The death of a public figure

Ask Arthur Anything response

Harvey Milk.George Moscone
Harvey Milk and George Moscone

For Arthur’s Ask Arthur Anything feature – I wonder where he got THAT idea? – I asked him one or two questions. One was “Other than Nigel [his late husband], whose death did you most mourn? Also what death of a public figure most affected you?” I’m going to focus on the latter.

Arthur wrote: “Two deaths affected me well afterward: Harvey Milk’s assassination in 1978 and Matthew Shepard’s murder twenty years later.” And it is true for me as well.

At the time, I thought Harvey Milk was the “other guy”, a city councilman killed along with San Francisco Mayor George Moscone by colleague Dan White. This happened only a short time after the Jonestown massacre, in which a large number of Bay Area residents died, traumatizing the community. Congressman Leo Ryan was also murdered in Guyana, tearfully announced by Moscone.

But by the time I saw the 2008 film Milk, I knew how important Harvey’s leadership was in LGBTQ+ rights. And that he went to school at the University at Albany.

I discussed Matthew Shepard in a comparison with Emmett Till, about whom I’ve written often. “Neither victim was a publicly known person; they weren’t activists in their respective civil rights struggles. Yet because Emmett’s mother had his battered body photographed in an open casket, because we saw the fence upon which Matthew was symbolically crucified, they were remembered nationally far beyond how the average murder victim is recalled.”

And yes, I protested in Albany against a certain ‘religious” Hate group, which came to town some years ago to complain about Laramie Project performances.

Dead musicians

Unlike John Lennon’s assassination, which hit me immediately, George Harrison’s death didn’t have the same instant impact. I knew he was dying. It was after 9/11; in fact, he was on the cover of TIME magazine in late November 2001, the first cover that wasn’t about 9/11 or Afghanistan in a couple of months. As I played George’s music, and later, when I heard the  Concert For George, his passing developed a greater resonance.

Sometimes, I’ll point out to Brian Ibbott, host of the podcast Coverville, which music stars had birthdays the following month that were divisible by five. I noted that David Bowie would have been 75 on January 8, 2022. Someone commented, “There hasn’t been a David Bowie cover story since the tribute in 2016. January 10 will also be the sixth anniversary of this sad day. So, please!”

Weird thing. I was recently watching that bit with Bowie and Bing Crosby on the latter’s holiday special. You know, the one with the fascinating dialogue. I was thinking, “Crosby died [on October 14, 1977] before that thing aired.” And suddenly, I realized, “Bowie’s dead too!” This is obviously something I knew intellectually since I had written about it more than once. Yet it took me by surprise and made me quite sad.

I’d count Prince, especially since my niece Rebecca Jade started singing with Sheila E. in 2017, and they cover so many of his songs. They both appeared in the televised Let’s Go Crazy — An All-Star Grammy Salute 2020, with Sheila as a musical director.

Martin

The person, though, whose death has hit me more at a later date is Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember when he died in 1968. However, I’ve learned SO much more about him subsequently. I’ve tried to make a point in the past decade to write about him every year around the dates of his birth (January 15) and death (April 4).

This is particularly true since certain people have hijacked his message into simplistic tropes. I wrote in 2013, What Would Martin Do, which is pretty representational of what I’ve been going for.

There are many others. For instance, several late entertainers and athletes I’ve admired, from Ella Fitzgerald to Hank Aaron, who had to endure Jim Crow.

Coincidentally, the very same day Arthur debuted the aforementioned post, Kelly shared For Carrie,  noting Carrie Fisher, gone five years. It’s worth checking out.

COVID isn’t breaking me, presently

Standing in line

throat_and_nasal_passages_2x
From https://xkcd.com/2563/

I noticed an odd thing amidst the Omicron surge. COVID isn’t breaking me. At least not presently, even though some say it’s the 681st day of March 2020.

I attribute it to being so damn vigilant over the past two years that the normal things felt, well, special. Our church was meeting in person from Father’s Day until Epiphany. And I attended, in person, all of those times when I was in town. The fact that we’re now experiencing a “pause” in in-person worship, while mildly disappointing, is totally understandable.

I hadn’t sung in the church between March 8, 2020, and December 12, 2021. Then I got to sing on Christmas Eve! So I know I won’t go another 21 months again. Right? I’ve been to films in movie theaters, and I saw a musical. Not going again right now. But eventually, yes?

My daughter’s district has gone remote for a week and a half. Yes, being in school is better; we know that. But when 25% of local school infections targeting are teachers and staff, it becomes logistically difficult to sustain. In any case, my daughter can con her loving father into making her lunch.

Testing, dammit

But I remain mystified by how inadequate the testing continues to be. With at-home kits largely unavailable, I decided to go to the NY State rapid test site at Crossgates. I entered my ZIP Code and the first result was for White Plains, NY, only two hours away. The next suggestion was for somewhere in Texas. Finally, I secured Wednesday, January 5.

The website said that walk-ins would also be accepted, so I got in line when my bus got me to the mall at 9:17 for a 10:10 appointment. The instructions that I should get there 15 minutes early. I’m 30th in line. EVERYONE is wearing a mask outdoors which is both unusual and comforting. For about 10 minutes, the line wasn’t moving. And it’s literally freezing out there – 32F according to my phone.

A few folks actually went to the front of the line, who I assumed had earlier appointments. But I wasn’t really in a hurry until 9:45 when I was still 10th in line. A guy wearing shirt-sleeved scrubs – did I mention it was 0 degrees C? – came out and said there should be TWO lines. That’s one for those who are registered, and another for those who aren’t, but that they need to register too. Note about giving instructions: YOUR left when you are facing us is OUR right. I’m certain that many of the folks in line had TRIED to get into the system earlier, but they wouldn’t have had the location code.

Who’s in charge of logistics?

By now, I’m third in the registered line. The guy in the scrubs, who had a face shield, asked if everyone could hear him. I’m 10 feet away and I can barely make out what he was saying. So I turned and barked the info to the two dozen people behind me.

Finally, I get inside at 10 a.m. The venue was a defunct Ruby Tuesday’s. We’re directed to some restaurant booths, where they take our registration info and give us each a slip of paper with a code. Then we move to the bar and subsequently another set of booths. Lots of jokes by us about the setting; someone asked when the buffet would be ready, e.g. I get my swab and leave at 10:25, instructed not to go into the mall proper until I received a negative test.

And within 30 minutes, I received the negative results, which is positive. My experience was much better than a friend of mine who spent 2.5 hours the day before and never did get tested.

I suppose I didn’t really NEED to get the swab. But the day before the test, I discovered that someone with whom I had contact tested positive, though asymptomatic, only a few days earlier. Then I learned two more people likewise were infected.

What is the definition of close contact? “Close contact through proximity and duration of exposure: Someone who was less than 6 feet away from an infected person [check] for a cumulative total of 15 minutes or more over a 24-hour period.” [Well, no, fortunately].

Random posts, or the illusion of same

MLK, blogging, music, movies, race, anger…

randomHere is my annual compilation of random posts from the previous year by month. Or maybe it’s an illusion. “Humans tend to see patterns when, in fact, the results are completely random.”

Speaking of which, Kelly “randomly” selected the Concerto No. 1 in F minor for piano and orchestra, by Alexander Glazunov. You should listen. 

January. MLK: When Peace Becomes Obnoxious. “I come to declare war over injustice.” This is from a 1956 sermon. This was a catch-his-breath bit because the sentences before and after are much longer and detailed. Still relevant, and possibly more so.

February: Death of the Times Union community blogs “’Nothing urgent, but please give me a ring if you have a few minutes — cell is…'” Casey Seiler, the editor of the Times Union newspaper, was the caller. I was surprised to discover that, although I was not dependent on the TU blog – I have this one, after all – I was still sad to see it go.

Looking into the future

March: Paul Whiteman and the hits of 1921
“’After all is said and done, there is really only one.'” The lyrics are to a tune called Margie by Eddie Cantor. I have a version of the song by Ray Charles. The nice thing about the series is that, if I’m still blogging, I know that in October 2029, I will be writing about the #1 songs from 1999. Hint: one of them is Smooth by Santana featuring Rob Thomas. I have the album from which that song was pulled.

April. Review: Judas and the Black Messiah. “FBI director J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen) considered Hampton a threat to decency in America and wanted him surveilled from the inside.” It was one of my favorite films of the year.

May. Critical Race Theory. “Much of the recent discussion seems to center around the response by Senator Tim Scott to President Biden’s ‘Can’t Be Called the State of the Union’ address.” I don’t know why I wrote about CRT. Almost no one was talking about it in 2021.

June. Musician Nils Lofgren is turning 70. “He was a two-time member of Ringo Starr’s All-Starr Band.” A friend of mine told me this fall they never read my music pieces because they don’t care about music. OK.

Side Two

July: Anger, a national disease “But living near a hotheaded neighbor who thinks we’re always calling the cops on her -I did once, because of the dog – unexplained noises at night are unsettling.” I BELIEVE that my neighbor moved in December, thank Allah.

August: Sunday Stealing, March 2020. “But only the ones I feel like answering.” When I get stuck or busy or tired, the quiz is the way to go.

September: The SCOTUS abortion ballet. “In a state that leads the country and much of the developed world in the rate of maternal mortality, women in Texas will now have to travel to another state to secure an abortion or resort to life-threatening back-alley coat-hanger abortions.” And SCOTUS has taken up the Mississippi law. I fear this will not end well.

October: Rhymin’ Paul Simon turns 80. “I got Stranger to Stranger in 2016, when it came out.” Paul Simon and Stevie Wonder were my favorite musical artists in the 1970s.

November: The way-too-detailed diaries. “I wrote or received letters from people A, B, and C.” My disappointment was that the diaries so far hadn’t gleaned much useful bloggable information.

December: Six Legends of Baseball. “Minoso lead the American League in being hit by a pitch for 10 seasons.” That would be Minnie Minoso, who played primarily for the Chicago White Sox.

1902 #1s: 1st college football bowl game

J.W. Myers

Williams and WalkerThe first college football bowl game, the Rose Bowl between Michigan and Stanford, is held in Pasadena, California on January 3, 1902. The Wolverines, a team that hadn’t yielded a point all season, shellacked the California team 49-0.

Meanwhile, in music that year, at least two very familiar songs.

Arkansaw Traveler – Len Spencer, 11 weeks at #1. This is a comedy record, with a background fiddle. At least one joke, the one about the roof, I’ve heard in some comedy routine a couple of decades ago.

Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home? –  Arthur Collins, 8 weeks at #1. This is also considered a comedy.  He was “one of the most prolific and beloved of pioneer recording artists, regarded in his day as ‘King of the Ragtime Singers’. Collins was in duos and quartets as well as a solo artist. He specialized in what were then called coon songs, popular African-American dialect numbers associated with vaudeville, and minstrel shows. Collins also utilized an array of vocal effects and caricature voices which gave the impression that there were multiple persons at the horn on his recordings, though it was just Collins.”

In The Good Old Summer Time In The Good Old Summer Time – J. W. Myers, 7 weeks at #1

On A Sunday Afternoon – J.W. Myers, 6 weeks at #1

Way Down In Old Indiana – J. W. Myers, 5 weeks at #1

Williams and Walker

Good Morning Carrie – Bert Williams and George Walker,  5 weeks at #1.
Williams “was a Bahamian-born American entertainer, one of the pre-eminent entertainers of the Vaudeville era and one of the most popular comedians for all audiences of his time. He is credited as being the first Black man to have the leading role in a film: Darktown Jubilee in 1914. He was by far the best-selling Black recording artist before 1920.

“Williams was a key figure in the development of African-American entertainment. In an age when racial inequality and stereotyping were commonplace, he became the first Black American to take a lead role on the Broadway stage, and did much to push back racial barriers during his three-decade-long career. Fellow vaudevillian W. C. Fields, who appeared in productions with Williams, described him as “the funniest man I ever saw—and the saddest man I ever knew.”

Walker was an American vaudevillian, actor, and producer. In 1893, in San Francisco, Walker at the age of 20 met Bert Williams, who was a year younger. The two young men became performing partners. Walker and Williams appeared in The Gold Bug (1895), Clorindy (1898), The Policy Player (1899), Sons of Ham (1900), In Dahomey (1903), Abyssinia (1906), and Bandanna Land (1907). Walker married dancer Ada Overton, who later also was a choreographer.

“The two men set up an agency, The Williams and Walker Company, to support African-American actors and other performers, create networking, and produce new works.”

More hits

The Mansion Of Aching Hearts – Harry Macdonough, 4 weeks at #1

The Mansion Of Aching Hearts  – Byron Harlan, 3 weeks

Under the Bamboo Tree – Arthur Collins., 3 weeks at #1. Listed as a comedy, presumably because of the dialect. Some of the Lyrics by black composer Bob Cole, who you should read about.

Down in the jungles lived a maid
Of royal blood though dusky shade…

If you lak a me, lak I lak a you,
And we lak a both the same,
I lak a say, this very day,
I lak a change your name;
‘Cause I love a you and love a you true

Health report, from head to toe

Golden Oreos

headtotoeI haven’t done a full-scale health report in a while. Actually, I’ve been impressed how Arthur, for instance, here and here and here, has been quite open about his health challenges. So from head to toe, me.

Head (inside): I briefly saw a shrink online in 2021. Part of it was technological, specifically that I was supposed to use my old phone, and it didn’t work to their office’s technological needs. In any case, I was put off by the process. Then the personal connection with the therapist just didn’t happen. Maybe I’ll try with someone else this year.

Skin: As noted, I have vitiligo. I had been getting an annual full-body skin exam for three years running. The next appointment was scheduled for June 2020, but of course, did not happen. I had one scheduled for January 2022, but then got an appointment at the very end of 2021. Except for my feet (see below), A-OK.

Eyes: my vision is such that I need a good amount of light to see some objects. For instance, if the remote control, which is black, were sitting on the dark brown cabinet in the underlit living room, I’d have a difficult time seeing it. If I were driving, I’d probably not do so at night. I’ll likely have cataract surgery in 2023.

Nose: occasionally runny, but the allergies are mostly under control.

Teeth: Cavity in the lower left part of my mouth. It probably would have been caught earlier if not for COVID.

The heart of the matter

Heart: As I’ve noted, I may have a congenital bicuspid aortic valve. At some point in the next year or two or five, I’ll need surgery. Meanwhile, I’ve taken my blood pressure almost every day for nearly two years. It’s amazingly consistent, for the most part.

Body: Too much of it. I’ve been flirting with diabetes and hit the magic threshold. Now I’m seeing a nutritionist. My levels have clicked back down to pre-diabetes levels, but naturally, I still have to be vigilant.

One very bizarre thing I’ve discovered recently is that, when I’m grocery shopping, my desire for certain snack foods is driven by price. I can walk by those Golden Oreos, which I love, when the package is $5 or more. But when they were on sale for $3 in December, I was sorely tempted, especially since my wife and daughter like them as well. But no. And I actually had my hand on a packet of bakery-quality apple turnovers. A four-pack, two for only $5. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Knee: Specifically, the left knee I tore the meniscus in 1994, and it’s hurt pretty much since. I wore the knee brace back when I played racquetball, and I put it on now when I know I’m going to be walking a distance. If I’m walking on an uneven surface – lawns are particularly treacherous – I use the walking stick someone made for me.

Foundational

Feet: I was going to say that my feet are my Achilles’ heel but decided against it. Back in Binghamton, when I was 12, a bunch of us walked to see our 6th-grade teacher, Mr. Peca, who lived near the airport, about 10 miles each way. By the return trip, I had ruined the shoes with my pigeon-toedness. I got frostbite in both feet when I was 16.

Wearing hard-soled shoes has been an agony for decades. That’s why I almost always wore sneakers. I made the tactical error of wearing a  pair of shoes, new ones at that, when I was on JEOPARDY in 1998! By the end of the second game, I was pretty miserable. This is why I believe in function over form.

For the last year or more, I have had neuropathy in my feet, especially the left one. For a time, I was so miserable – they felt as though they were burning from the inside – I was literally in tears. Since I’ve been taking Gabapentin, the misery has stopped, but they still as though someone has bound them. I COULD take more medicine, but I am loath to do so.

Only this fall, I got orthotic inserts for my shoes. This required getting better shoes, which I got at an SAS shoe store in the area. GOOD service, BTW. (And not a paid endorsement.)

I tend not to write this stuff often, less out of a sense of privacy and more about not wanting to bore myself, let alone y’all.

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