Cloister Commentary, Day 137: Tenterhooks

We voted. Actually, we already had, via absentee ballot. The occasion was mostly a primary, but voters approved a Medicare extension, so that was cool. However, early indications are that barely 30% of eligible Boone County voters exercised their right. I hope to be corrected on that percentage.

We’re also both on tenterhooks waiting for our schools to decide on an opening. With the kind of planning that goes into days, weeks, months and semesters of hour-by-hour teaching, August 4th (make that 5th) shuts the window to a bit of a crack. I know these decisions are difficult, but quality education should be a high priority, y’know?

The two big reminders of my own mortality this summer has presented me pushed me to get in for a check-up. Also, I’m changing physicians, as my last one seemed to be just checking me off the clipboard and couldn’t even keep my medical history straight. I attempted to return to my previous physician, whom I’d left after he scheduled me for a colonoscopy, where I heard the surgeon tell me right after I came out of anesthesia, “Hey, I know you love this procedure, but you didn’t have to come in for another two years!” Smart ass! BUT I was chapped off that I spent some money I didn’t need to and wasn’t even given a choice. According to the receptionist, who asked me to explain why I left the clinic in the first place, my previous physician is “conservative”–I don’t find that word perfectly comforting, but if it means he’s not into taking chances with my health, OK, I get it. Anyway, the receptionist had to check on a couple of matters and call me back, which she didn’t. Gripping reading, eh?

I started what promises to be a great book, Lawrence Wright’s The End of October. Wright’s one of my favorite nonfiction authors–his The Looming Tower, about the historical run-up to 9/11, is a classic–but this is a novel–about a pandemic breaking in Jakarta with a 70% lethality rate. I needed some light reading after the events of the last two months.

Streaming for Strivers:

“Trad jazz” sounds boring, but not when Sidney Bechet’s in the house.

Cloister Commentary, Day 136: Paid Off

Thanks to Nicole’s grandfather’s generosity upon his passing, we were able to make a humble down payment on this, our first and only house in 1996. It’s served us well, and, despite the numerous upgrades it needs, we are still fond of it. Yesterday, we were able to pay it off. We probably should have kicked out the jams to celebrate, but this IS a pandemic.

We failed to get Scrappers, the latest stray to wander up to our deck, into the clinic for a feline leukemia shot and an exam (our local spay and neuter project neutered him and gave him a rabies shot a few weeks back). A very runty Yoda-like tabby who has been through the mill–he’s missing half an ear, sports numerous battle scars, and has a hitch in his get-a-long–Scrappers has been a regular visitor for breakfast and, of course, The Beebs and Goldie have peacefully accepted him as a guest. He must have seen a crate in his future–but just before I started to tap this out, he yearningly reappeared at the back door. No, we’re not keeping him….

I eavesdropped as Nicole mirrored our school district superintendent’s Zoom with teachers to our TV. The questions from educators were very apt, challenging, and engaging (too many, perhaps, produced no answer), and I had to keep reminding myself I was retired. This is not going to be an easy, or safe, semester, and I hope the leadership consistently makes the best hard decisions as the school year begins.

Ever noticed Monday isn’t the best night to dine out? We had little in the cupboard since we’d been out of town for a few days, so we just struck out to “find something,” and struck out is what we did on our first five (?) swings, until after what seemed an hour we happened upon Chim’s Thai Kitchen On Broadway. We ordered curbside and brought home some masaman curry, pad bok choy, and crab rangoon–we shall return!

Our good friend and fellow educator Greg Soden, host of the always-edifying Classical Ideas Podcast, presented his audience with a new episode celebrating the late great sage George Frissell. It includes an interview with George and reminiscences from those who were lucky to know him.

Streaming for Strivers:

Today ought to be a national holiday so we can all celebrate the life and work of this birthday kid.

Cloister Commentary, Day 135: In Person

About this school reopening?

As far as Columbia, Missouri, is concerned, if we were all-virtual in April, we should be going all-virtual this month, as COVID is relatively rampant here now, FAR beyond April 1st, and shows no signs of being curbed soon. It pains me to say this, as kids in environs that are the most challenged under normal circumstances will get screwed–but they will get screwed PLUS their and their families’ health will be more vulnerable if we re-open in-person. And I definitely get the devastating economic impact of virtual-only education, but why is it that it’s up to schools to support the economy? I think that’s another body’s job, a body that’s lately exclusively taken care of its own and its deep-pocketed buddies and hollowed out OUR resources. Not to mention child-care: back in the early ’70s, there was a movement to provide for that for all of us, but ultimately that was seen as a pinko plot. We’re great at shooting off our own toes.

Personally, when I’ve been presented with crises, I’ve tended to put my head down and stoically prepare on an emotional level, then step quietly into the fray. But this situation is SO painful for us to contemplate. Nicole, if we open in-person, will be daily entering a mass of humans that will put her at risk of illness and possibly death (this IS virus roulette), and in which she can possibly put others at the same risk, including me and our families and friends. I’m on another campus of older students which is also considering opening in person. We talked yesterday about how we are gonna deal with in-person days: specific house spots to discard clothing, staying clean, possibly masking and socially distancing INSIDE the house, living on different floors and sleeping in different beds–those are just some of the possibilities.

I don’t want to die–three or four in every 100 infected, but do YOU like those odds? I would be TOTALLY bereft if I lost my soul mate because of this, or if I passed the virus to my mourning mom. Or if I died or got and stayed sick because of what I was born to do. I am frustrated that, to the powers that be, this is even a tricky decision, one most are putting off and we are in AUGUST. I’ve thought about the soldier analogy, but it’s not perfectly apt.

This election, laser-focus on who’s interested in creating a firmer infrastructure, an inexpensive and reliable health care system, a more deeply and richly supported public education system, and a taxation system that holds EVERYONE accountable for the common good. And try not to forget what this crisis and our leadership and OUR PAST VOTING CHOICES have cost us.

Streaming for Soulmates:

What a team-

Cloister Commentary, Day 130: I Got the Will…To TRY

I didn’t need as much effort as I’d thought, but I did will myself to have a better day. Better sleep and a less painful throat helped, but some yard work and basement maintenance were probably the kickers.

I am always perfectly content to ride as opposed to drive, so Nicole was surprised when she asked if she could drive Dad’s truck when we needed to run some errands and I said no. The power that surges through my being as I fire up the Silverado is addictive, and I feel more manly every time I’m behind its steering wheel. Seriously, though, I’ll “let” her drive next time.

I will have at least one of my usual four part-time jobs next semester. Stephens confirmed that I’ll be operating as a virtual-only writing tutor out of their library, and that I may be taking on some additional duties checking up on incoming freshmen as they deal with what can only be a weird educational campaign.

Our friend Susie gifted us with some blackberry moonshine from the lakes to help us through our recent tragedy, and Nicole had an inkling it would mix well with Maine Root Ginger Beer (the best!)–it’s a bit too sweet to drink neat. We each had a glass with some fresh sweet corn on the cob and a tomato and mayo sandwich, then we had another.

All evening, we listened to Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions’ classic ’60s and early ’70s recordings–not a bad way at all to lessen pandemic anxiety before hitting the sack.

Streaming for Strivers:

If you’re in the mode for Joe…

Cloister Commentary, Day 129: Snores

I snore. Sometimes so badly–especially if I sleep deeply–that my throat’s raw in the morning. Yesterday morning, morning was 3:30 a.m.; I’d already driven Nicole out, my uvula felt swollen to twice its normal size, and I was buzzing with anxiousness about ten imperatives. Got up, drank some ice-cold water, took an ibuprofen, drank a cup of coffee, tried to read, and performed a rarity, for me: I went back to sleep after I’d gotten up. Took a nap in the afternoon, too. Still didn’t feel all the way charged–maybe 73%–and even a Shakespeare’s veggie “Overeem Special” (double mushrooms, onions, pepper cheese, and green olives) didn’t help. Really, the only thing powering me through the day at all was a steady diet of stride and boogie woogie piano records, several of which I repeat-played.

All of my Stephens summer school students gained their freshman comp credit. A very bad research paper brought one kid in at 69.8%, a very narrow escape (a C- is required to pass). I do not know if I will have a class next semester, and, if I do, how I will have it.

We are without a show. Normally, I do not need escapes. Sometimes, I think I’m quite the opposite: I want to confront reality more fully, more specifically. But damn this summer, you know? So we sampled a couple we thought might delight, distract, and amuse us, Toast of London and Space Force. There’s nothing like watching a fruitlessly striving comedy produce barely a smile, and no outward laughter, especially twice in a row. On the plus side, the two episodes drove us out to the front room to read.

Today will be better. I am going to will it so.

Streaming for Survivors:

Finger-buster on the 88s. For Nicole.

Cloister Commentary, Day 126: Earthseed Graphics

Took a long early-morning walk into the Monett countryside listening to Rolling Stone writer Joe Levy’s Spotify playlist, “Uprising 2020.” That was better than three shots of espresso, and lasted longer.

Nicole, Mom, and I Zoom every morning for 10 minutes or so before we get on with our days. Yesterday, though, we got pretty engaged in our subject matter and almost talked for an hour. And here I thought I was done with Zoom “classes” for a while. For myself, I think I just miss my wife a wee bit.

Graded the first wave of research papers that arrived from my summer school students: three As and two Bs, plus they had some zip to ’em. They aren’t due til Sunday night, but today’s authors are of the TCB variety.

Started two new books, a so-far nice bio of the contagiously joyful and mischievous jazz master Fats Waller (written by his son) and Duffy & Jennings’ second graphic novel adaptation of an Octavia Butler novel, Parable of the Sower. If any of my readers know that book, well–you’ve probably thought of it once or twice since March. The team has an adaptation of Parable of the Talents on the way.

My mind and body forced me to nap in the afternoon, but I was ready to go for a nice dinner with Mom and my chosen brother Greg Carlin. We spent a good three hours talking about Monett family trees, his health-wrestling, complicated dogs, and oblivious neighbors. As a lineman (not the football kind, the electrical kind), he interacts with a cross-section of the public in their home environments, but when he discusses certains folks’ unusual living habits, he is never mean nor does he consider himself superior to them. That’s the sign of a good man.

Streaming for Strivers:

For this instrumentalist, an album could not be better named. The band’s pretty talented as well.

Cloister Commentary, Day 125: Cat Herding Sheep

Only eight times this many days will be 1,000. February seems over a year in the past, but eight times this many seems like it could happen in a snap. Does that make any sense?

But for the grading of research papers, my Stephens summer school stint is over. I remember neurotically pacing back and forth, wondering if I should take the job on, then if I would like it, then if I would suck at Zoom–and it’s already over, and I’m in for next summer. If there is a next summer: what really sucks is that some valued colleagues at Stephens have lost their jobs so the institution can survive, and the mess we’re all in isn’t going to make continuance a snap.

I have a scarily-bearded cousin who’s more like an uncle named Jim Hague. He is a septuagenarian with the motor of a five-year-old (what age has the highest-running motor?), and yesterday he showed up to finish repairing Dad’s old riding lawnmower. This particular job has been an obsession with him, and he toiled in the ninety degree heat from 1 p.m. to about 7 p.m. He was so desperate to complete the task that he asked me to help him, which is akin to asking a cat to herd sheep. I didn’t break anything, got my hands dirty (it was FUN!), and test-drove the thing without impaling it on the sweetgum tree. Jim and I don’t agree on very much, but no one has been more helpful in the aftermath of my father’s passing. For awhile, I was worried I might have another relative’s demise on my hands, but after Mom hosed him down and he ate some cookies, he was good as new.

I despise few things more than wasting food–I am a plate-cleaner to the manor born–but I was soundly defeated at dinner. I decided to give Mom a break from having to feed me and grabbed some curbside grub at The Southern Standard in Monett, but the delicious four-piece fried catfish plate I ordered was not accurately described on the restaurant’s menu: I double-checked, but nowhere did it read “For two.” Nor did it read “jumbo-sized catfish slabs.” My jaws creaked to a screeching halt at 3.5 slabs, I left a swamp of slaw on the plate, then staggered out of the kitchen to collapse on the couch. Too full to drink a beer or read? I’d not thought it possible, but it is. I am still full right now thumbing this out 12 hours later.

Streaming for Survivors:

One of the greatest alto saxophonists alive was born in Joplin, Missouri, 81 years ago today. Here he is.

Cloister Commentary, Day 123: COVID Roulette

Once a week with my on-line class, we have an Open Zoom: I make myself available for twice the required time for consultation on classwork and anything else related to writing, lit, or college survival. I screen-share a YouTube playlist so music greets them when they enter, though sometimes they have to chat at me or unmute and yell to alert me to their presence.

One of my three students from California NEVER misses an Open Zoom, which is doubly impressive as it’s 6:30 am to 8:30 am her time. She always has terrific questions, she’s always enthusiastic about her work, she’s taking and aceing all four of our program’s courses for incoming freshmen, she loves writing–and she’s an equine major! Laughing, she told me yesterday that her parents recently asked her, considering all the work she’s been doing, if she was ok, and I’ve thought the same thing. After we dealt with integrating and citing quotes into research papers MLA style, we chatted about the class and the future for about 15 minutes, and I do hope that, sometime when life is less a game of COVID roulette, she comes to see me for writing tutoring. She’s hoping Stephens is opening as it is planning to next month, and, though I don’t perfectly share that hope, she’s already bought her plane tickets. This time reeks to highest heaven and lowest hell, but she’s been a beacon.

In the afternoon, Mom and I and her teacher pal Cathy visited the splendid country home of Madison and Logan Dickens. Madison’s like a granddaughter to Mom and a niece to me; she’s a smart, diligent school nurse and mother of two, and her husband can about build or fix anything. As she cradled her bowling-ball of a newborn Presley in her elbow-nook, she and her agile and avid older daughter Lilly gave us a fascinating tour of the spread.

Like a moth to flame: after months of being relatively painlessly being weaned off sports, can I resist MLB and NBA action?

Streaming for Survivors:

For you and your folks, me and my folks–and for the super stupid…

Cloister Commentary, Day 119.5: Splash, So Long

I have had a decent portion on my plate lately, so I was happy to hand a very healthy certified check over to good ol’ Sharon Dothage at Hickman for deposit into our account for remembering our departed friend George Frissell. My first experience managing a GoFundMe campaign was pretty positive, but also nerve-wracking. Would I do it again? Depends.

Thanks be to McKnight Tire for bringing my ’93 Ford Ranger (formerly known as a Splash until I had the evidence removed–didn’t quite go with my image) up to long-distance travel-speed. They have treated that vehicle lovingly for almost 30 years, and after the new owner has them put a set of tires on it, they shall see it no more, and will eventually meet my Chevy. I hope they get along.

How many hours in a day can you read? Providing my damn phone is buried somewhere, I can get seriously lost in a book, but I happened to have my nose in an in-demand book I’d checked out from the DBRL that was, um, five days overdue, so I had additional motivation. Finished it with time to spare, which I used to…read another book.

The dark side of the day was learning that 30 fellow Stephens employees lost their jobs. I’m pretty convinced the leadership did everything they could to prevent taking that measure, but COVID-19 gives no quarter. Had we done a much better job refusing any ourselves–say, starting in January–we’d be in a better place now. But more and more it is appearing we are in a hell we had a hand in making.

Random shout-out: I was delighted to see one of my favorite administrators and edumacational wizards, Dr. Andrew McCarthy, yesterday. Andy’s smart, dedicated, hard-working, funny, positive, patient, and nice. What else could one require in an educator?

Streaming for Strivers:

How ’bout some snap, crackle, and pop?

Cloister Commentary, Day 112: Good Fortune and Bright Light

Good fortune and bright light shone on me yesterday. As far as fortune went, Missourians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty found inmates for both Nicole and me to correspond with through their program. Neither of us believe in capital punishment, both of us recognize mass incarceration as one of our country’s biggest issues, and we applied to MADP to try to assist in a personal way. The response to the program had been so robust that they initially had no one to pair us with.

Bright light came in two forms. We successfully released “Scrappy,” a stray cat who found his way to Columbia’s Cat Capitol and got trapped and SNPed. To our surprise, he stayed put on the deck for a tuna treat. But…why were we even surprised? Also, our great friends Kenny and Gwen Wright chose us for their first Zoom double-date and we laughed into the night. Their youngun Ethan will soon be driving the most conspicuous and be-bumper-stickered teacher vehicle in town, only he’ll be doing so in Birmingham. We’ll meet in Memphis for the transaction, so that will be bright light for the future. I wish they were our next-door neighbors.

Oh yeah: I finished grading those papers. Beer. And dropped off a mega-load of recycling. Beer. And finished Jennings & Duffy’s mind-blowing graphic adaptation of Octavia Butler’s Kindred. Beer. Apologies, but I had been needing some release, and was stubborn in coming.

Streaming for Strivers:

Comin’ round the mountain…