Sunday stealing: liturgy of the Word

LOUD

Here’s this week’s Sunday Stealing. I looked at the questions, and many of them seemed very familiar. In fact, look at these answers from two months ago.

But there is something in a lot of church worship called the liturgy, which is “a customary repertoire of ideas, phrases, or observances. The liturgy of the Word consists of Scripture readings, repeated in a three-year cycle. The theory is that as one revisits them, one has new insight.

So I will answer all the questions, even the repeats, but answer them differently.

1.    Write about the best decision you ever made. How did you make it? Was it reasoning or gut instinct?

It was moving to the Capital District of New York State in late 1977.  As you can tell, it was definitely not reasoning. And it wasn’t gut instinct. It was desperation.

2.    What ONE thing would you change about your life? How would your life be different?

I honestly cannot answer this. If I did this, then I wouldn’t have done that. I can think of a good half dozen choices that would have changed my life if I had said, or didn’t say, X. Think the multiverse.

Mom

3.    What is the hardest thing you have ever done? Why was it hard for you? What did you learn?

It wasn’t watching my mom die. It was a few minutes before that when I thought she was suffocating to death. I freaked out and rang the nurses, even though she had a DNR. This is a natural devolution of end of life, I learned. Do I need to explain why it was difficult?  It’s added to my pool of information for Death Cafe courses I have helped to facilitate. I’ve since embraced the topic of death, learning about death doulas, for instance.

4.    What is your greatest hope for your future? What steps can you take to make it happen?

Someday, my wife will retire. I can make oatmeal for us almost every morning.

5.    If you can time travel, what will you tell your teenage self?

Not a damn thing because I wouldn’t believe it anyway. If I did believe my Future Self, it would alter what I might have experienced.

6.    Write about the most glorious moment in your life so far.

One would be when my church choir performed the Mozart Requiem in March 1985, then a handful of us crashed Albany Pro Musica and performed it on September 11, 2002; afterward, it was the only time I wore a tuxedo to work.

7.    What did you struggle most with today?

Time management. the more I NEED to do, the less likely I have the focus to do so,

8.    What made you happy today?

Takeout Indian food.

Grandma

9.    What did you dislike most about growing up?

The deaths of my paternal grandmother, Agatha Walker in 1964, when I was 11, and my great aunt Adenia Yates in 1966, when I was almost 13. They were great.

10.    Write about 3 activities you love the most and why you love them.

Music (singing), music (listening to recordings), and music (hearing live music). Because joy.

11.    What has been your best trip so far?

There have been a few. The first best trip as a family was probably a 2008  trip to colonial Williamsburg, pictured above.

12.    Write a list of 3 things (physical or personality-wise) you love about yourself, and why they make you unique.

We’re all unique, with specific recollections and skills. Mine tend to be with numbers. I had to exchange some tickets for a musical, and they would cost more. In my head, I figured it out before the person with the calculator could. Math is everywhere. Why? Because it’s useful and fun.

Unfairness ticks me off. Cars that park in crosswalks, making it difficult for pedestrians, who might be blind or have a walker or a shopping cart are selfish jerks.  Unfortunately, I’m too civilized to key their cars, But I think about it way too often.

And music. I hear it, even when it’s not playing. I listen for the tones of fire trucks, vacuum cleaners, or chainsaws. Why? Because music. Renée Fleming has edited a new book called Music and Mind, which someone ought to get for me.

Openish book

13.    Discuss 3 things you wish others knew about you.

I’ve been writing a blog for 19 years. Whatever I haven’t told you I either don’t think I can share, at least not yet, or I don’t remember anymore.

14.    Write about your top 3 personal strengths.

I can be VERY LOUD when I have to be, a useful skill when someone tries to announce amid a noisy room.  My go-to: “OYEZ!! OYEZ!”

I observe a great deal, looking for people in certain settings who seem new or shy.

I have that curiosity gene that a good librarian needs. It’s been used in the blog dozens of times per year.

15.    Is social media a blessing or a curse?

My general observation is that there’s a LOT of information, too much to keep track of. I saw this post about a woman leaving the reality show Real Housewives of the Potomac. There’s a show called Real Housewives of the Potomac. And it’s been on since 2016?!  I spend more time skipping things than reading them.

Occasionally, I will indulge myself by watching three or four reels on Facebook of billiard shots. I love billiards, but I suck at it, so the game interests me.

Al Dexter and the country hits of 1944

Pistol Packin’ Mama

Until I noticed that the country music charts started in 1944, per Joel Whitburn’s Record Research book, Al Dexter was unknown to me. This even though he was a massive star.

Per the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame page, he was born Clarence Albert Poindexter on May 4, 1905.  “Al Dexter is considered to be one of the forefathers of the honky-tonk music style. But rather than specializing in forlorn heartache laments, he emphasized the rollicking, good-time, barrelhouse side of this country barroom genre… He was proficient on guitar, banjo, harmonica, organ, and mandolin.” He died in January 1984.

So Long Pal – Al Dexter, #1 for 13 weeks

Smoke On The Water – Red Foley, #1 for 13 weeks. A WWII song, Some of these performers I do know, probably from the 50 Stars, 50 Hits album that my grandfather McKinley Green brought me when I was a kid.

I’m Wasting My Tears On You – Tex Ritter and his Texans, #1 for six weeks. I know that name too, but not just because he was the father of John Ritter of Three’s Company fame. Ritter co-wrote it.

Straighten Up And Fly Right – the King Cole Trio, #1 for six weeks. I own this on a Nat Cole CD. Cole co-wrote this.

Pistol Packin’ Mama – Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters with Vic Schoen and his Orchestra, #1 for five weeks. Dexter wrote it. I have this on a Crosby/Andrews Sisters CD compilation.

Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t (Ma Baby) – Louis Jordan, from the Universal picture Follow the Boys, #1 for five weeks. This song, written by Jordan and Billy Austin, appears on my only Jordan CD compilation. I first heard this song by Joe Jackson in the early 1980s.

Also

Soldier’s Last Letter – Ernest Tubb, #1 for four weeks. After my father-in-law died in 2020, I sorted his CDs and picked out my first two Tubb albums, though I’d known the name for decades.

Pistol Packin’ Mama – Al Dexter, #1 for three weeks.

Ration Blues – Louis Jordan, #1 for three weeks, co-written by Jordan.

Too Late To Worry – Al Dexter, #1 for two weeks

For one week each:

Rosalita – Al Dexter

They Took The Stars Out of Heaven  -Floyd Tillman and His Favorite Playboys, written by Tillman

Some notes:

Al Dexter and his Troopers hit the pop charts with Pistol Packin’ Mama in 1943. The song was used in a 1943 film of the same name.

Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters, together and separately, hit the top of the pop charts in 1944 but with different songs. The same is true of Louis Jordan.

The whimsy of the found item

hours and hours and hours of pondering

I’ve been fascinated by the whimsy of the found item. One case in point: this drawing. I wasn’t looking for it; nor do I have any idea how it suddenly reappeared. Maybe it was magic.

It was created by someone I know and care about a few years ago, though I don’t recall the circumstances of when/where/why anymore. (No, it was not by my wife or daughter.) Still, interestingly, finding it again brought me more joy than receiving it originally. I decided to take a picture of it. It was overcast and so my office was a bit dark.  Sure I could have gone downstairs, but nah.

I turned on the over-the-desk built-in lamp my daughter made for me last year. Then I set the drawing on my laptop and saw the potential photo. Only my name and the very top of my head were illuminated. I decided that was PRECISELY the picture I wanted.

Because whimsy. I need to lean more into whimsy.

Ho-ho-ho!

To that end, my wife bought a new case for her cellphone. It’s red, which matches her birthstone. More to the point, I could tell the difference between her phone and mine at a glance.

But sometimes seeing a black item on a cluttered table isn’t easy.  Hey, I should get a new cellphone case too! But what should color should I select? I spent hours and hours pondering this monumental decision.

Okay, that was a lie. But is it really a lie when I’ve let you in on the truth beforehand? Anyway, of COURSE, it’s green, like me.  Specifically, Sprout Green.

Wait, isn’t the Little Green Sprout the protégé of the Jolly Green Giant? Why, yes, he is. So have I inadvertently conned myself into eating more vegetables? That doesn’t align with whimsy at all! Good heavens!

The pro-Palestinian demonstrations

Well, duh

For weeks, I’ve been trying to write a piece about the pro-Palestine demonstrations on college campuses, stymied by the ever-changing circumstances. 

Last month, I was conversing with two of my friends, both 70 or older, veterans of many demonstrations for civil rights, and against wars and apartheid, among other issues. Our reflexive responses tended to be generally favorable to young adults expressing themselves.

So, as a matter of principle, I support the pro-Palestine demonstrations. I support the pro-Israel demonstrations, too, though the former are more numerous and the ones most subject to debate. Since I grew up in the civil rights era, I presuppose a level of civility and peacefulness.

, a columnist at Foreign Policy, notes: “Some politicians have called student protesters a threat. Instead, they are providing us all with an education in democracy.” What he said.

Is there an element of radical chic in the demonstrations, a romanticized flashback to the demonstrations of the past, as Frank S. Robinson opines? Probably, but it does not negate the broader issues.

I’ve noticed, and the Weekly Sift guy concurs: “Press coverage has been all over the map. Some sources essentially repeat the Netanyahu claim that ‘antisemitic mobs have taken over the leading universities’, while others interview demonstrators with more sympathy.”

A running narrative, in some circles, is that some sinister backers must be coordinating the pro-Palestinian demonstrations. Based on my experience, a Boston Globe article describes a more likely scenario.

“In addition to forming a larger community of protesters who help each other, students in the encampments are also getting aid, both legal and material, from outside ideological groups attracted by the focus on this new protesting front, the organizations say. And that, in turn, has helped draw external pro-Israel organizations to campuses to counterprotest.”

And then 

Colleges and universities are grappling with their responses. Should they call the police, and if so, at what point? There were 133 people arrested at my alma mater, SUNY New Paltz on May 3, including a reporter from Spectrum News and a student I know personally. The campus has a tradition of activism.

Jay Bernhardt, the newly installed president at Emerson College, got an earful about the arrest of more than 100 protesters at the Massachusetts campus. He commented to the Boston Globe, “I realize now that I must take more time to actively listen and learn, find more ways to connect personally with students, faculty, and staff, and help create space for multiple voices.”

Conversely, The Daily Signal asks Can the Current Universities Be Saved? Should They Be? 

Caveat

Most people who have attended more than a few events recognize that not everyone attending a rally or demonstration will agree on rhetoric or strategy. I need to create a big caveat.

On Medium, Mo Husseni wrote something he had previously posted on Threads, which I’m not on. It’s called 50 Completely True Things.

They are things that some people might say, “Well, duh!” Including himself. He is “a Palestinian American who is tired of stupid people. I wanted to share a (not exhaustive) list of 50 useful and indisputable facts on the Palestinian / Israeli conflict.”.He is particularly fond of the S-word and the F-word.  

“Not all Arabs are Muslim.” “Not all Palestinians are Hamas.” “Not all Israelis like the Israeli government;” I’d add, especially Bibi.

He suggests the history lessons of who controlled the land before, the Ottomans, the British, etc.  are “F***ING IMMATERIAL.” This was particularly interesting to me. Are we going to adhere to 1491 Western Hemisphere maps?

“If you want to be an ally to Palestinians, please feel free to continue to advocate for peace, security, and self-determination, but do it without dehumanizing or stereotyping Israelis and Jews.” It is similarly true for allies of the Israelis regarding Palestinians, Muslims, and Arabs.

Did this even need to be said? Unfortunately, yes. 

So, in review: October 7- BAD. Holding hostages – BAD. Tens of thousands of Palestinians, many of them children, killed in Gaza – BAD. A land on the brink of famine – BAD.

US foreign policy toward Israel – a continual array of mixed messaging. The Daily Show created a video of DOD’s John Kirby – you will recognize the face if you watch the Sunday morning news shows – saying repeatedly since November 2023 that Israel has a right to exist but that Israel should “do more” to minimize civilian casualties. 

SNL

Here’s a news flash. Red State and the New York Post liked the Saturday Night cold open. RS called it “Truly Funny As Skit Mocks Columbia University Parents Whose Kids Are Busy Protesting.” And they almost always hate SNL. Of course, they characterize the demonstrators as “pro-Hamas” because that’s what they do. 

Wow, this feels a bit like 1968. We have a Democratic President with less than robust support. Instead of Americans fighting a war in Vietnam, we’re supporting proxy wars in Gaza and Ukraine. The Republican Presidential candidate had been in high office before, ran for President before and lost, and is running for President again. The DNC meets in the Windy City. A headline in The Daily Signal just this morning: “Weakness in the Face of Chicago’s Protests Spells Trouble for the Democratic National Convention.”

1977 versus 1978

Proctors

When I noted that I could remember specific years in my past, someone wanted to know how. As it pertains to 1977 versus 1978, it was easy. The first year was terrible, and the second year was pretty great. Not that 1977 was ALL bad.

I should start with the autumn of 1976. Ostensibly, I had graduated from SUNY New Paltz. By that, I mean I had enough credits to graduate, but I still had a course I was supposed to finish.

The Financial Council, the student government entity, hired me to sell concert tickets. While it was fun, and I got to attend some concerts for free, it didn’t pay enough to live on.

So, I must have called my parents in Charlotte, NC, and asked if I could live with them for a bit. I don’t remember the conversation, but I ended up there. My father had only moved down there in the spring of 1974, and my mom and baby sister in the autumn of that year. In January 1975, my other sister and I kidnapped our maternal grandmother and brought her to Queen City as well. So, my family didn’t have a lot of history there.

I’d help my parents sell costume jewelry. For many reasons, I hated it, except for the Kansas incident.

The big hassle about the city was that it was extremely difficult to get around. Most of the buses routed through the intersection of Trade and Tryon. If you wanted to go from Miami to NYC or LA to Seattle, imagine going via St.Louis. I did go to the library and saw the movie Gaslight, which was a small highlight. My family also watched the miniseries Roots, except we missed the first half hour of the penultimate night.

Skyscrapers and everything

By May 1977, I’d made my way to the apartment of my sister Leslie and her then-husband Eric in Jackson Heights, Queens. At least I had a semblance of a job: selling renewals of TV Guide magazines and the annuals of the Encyclopedia Americana or Brittanica.

I knew how to get around the Big Apple. Five days a week, I took the #7 train to the E train to Manhattan and back.

It wasn’t all bad. I met my friend Deborah, whose wedding I attended in May 2023 in France.

But the place was a bit unsettling. It was the NYC of the Bronx Zoo and the Son of Sam. Right before I left, I voted for Mario Cuomo for mayor over Ed Koch in the Democratic primary. Of course, the incumbent Koch won.

Back to the Paltz

I left there to go to my old college town. Crashing on my friend Lynn’s sofa, I tutored freshmen taking political science courses. They didn’t understand the three parts of the federal government; their real shortcomings were that they didn’t bother to read the books.

While I  got to hang out with some old friends and met a new friend, Judy, I wasn’t getting enough hours.

The Capital District

I migrated up the Thruway to Schenectady, staying with Uthaclena and his then-wife. After Christmas,  she suggested I  apply for a job as a teller at Albany Savings Bank in downtown Albany. It seemed to be in my skill set, so I did. At the beginning of February, I got the job. However, I knew I would not love this career, even during the training process conducted by an excellent teller but a subpar instructor.

It turned out that Pam, the Innovative Studies coordinator at New Paltz, had also migrated north. Her beau, Paul, was in charge of a program operated by the Schenectady Arts Council, funded by federal grant money.  I would be the bookkeeper. Moreover, I would make $8,200 per year, far more than the six grand I would be making at ASB; I had more money in my drawer at the beginning of the day than I was making annually. It became an easy decision when I spent an hour trying (and failing) to find a nickel shortfall in my drawer.

I started working at the Schenectady Arts Council. Immediately, my primary task was to contact businesses to see if they’d like to advertise for an event designed to help renovate Proctors Theatre. This old vaudeville venue had seen better days.

I also ran a biweekly Artisans Arcade; sang with Susan, the secretary, at nursing homes; was a partner with Darlene, the choreographer, when she taught dance to school kids; and served as the acting director when Paul went on vacation. I generally loved the job.

Although the funding suddenly disappeared on January 23, 1979, and it was greatly disappointing, it got me to where I needed to be.

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