The Daughter was startled by a noise she feared was a bat.
A friend of mine recently saw a bat on his screened-in back porch. He ducked out onto the “porch where said bat was pinwheeling in the air madly,” opened the door, and the creature departed.
From having bats in our house EVERY YEAR from 2002-2007, I find that my racquetball racket was good at stunning bats without hurting them, putting a cardboard box over the creature, some sort of plastic or metal tray underneath, take ’em outside, then kick the box away.
My friend expressed concern that with brown bats near extinction in the Northeast due to ‘white nose’ fungus, it was against his nature to use such a tool to down a bat. But another guy agreed that “swat, stun, put outside, leave ’em alone, they fly away.” The Wikihow says: “A tennis racket is an appropriate tool to catch one in flight, but use gently.” You needn’t swing the racket. For whatever reason, a racket screws up their echolocation and they practically run into it.
While it is true that if you do get bitten & you don’t catch the culprit the health authority will insist on you getting rabies shots – I can say with painful recall – it seems that fewer bats are rabid than was generally thought.
Three days after that discussion, at about 3:30 a.m., the Daughter got up to go to the bathroom but was startled by a noise she feared was a bat. It is true that one can hear the bats outside, and they sound like they’re inside the room. So we prepare, with head covered, hands covered (I had oven mitts, she rubber gloves), arms and legs covered. We closed all the other doors in the house.
We meticulously went through the towels hanging up, the bathroom shade, and the shower curtain; no bat. At least when she IS confronted by the creature, she’ll be prepared.
This past year, for spelling, there was this predictable pattern for the homework of approximately 20 words.
Monday: put the words in alphabetical order. Sometimes tricky when you have six words starting with st Tuesday and Wednesday: write ten sentences each night, using the spelling word. The sentences, more often than not, involved the cats; “Perhaps Stormy and Midnight will be friends. Thursday: take one word and make an acrostic out of it. This is something I never had to do, but she got into it.
With her permission, nay, insistence, some of The Daughter’s acrostics, in no particular order. All (c) 2014 Lydia Green.
Curved, Is Round, Cylinder,no Lines, Ends where it begins Dating With A dwarf can be Rough but Fun
Always Under The Umbrella at Midnight in New York *** (Stormy my cat)
Hears everything Ears perk up Rapidly runs from room to room Sometimes very quiet and cuddly Eyes glow in the dark Loves to be crazy Fears Midnight Horses jump Over the fence Running free Satisfying the crowd Eating hay Saves the day
Obsessive Behavioral Expectations for You Delicious Entree with a side of Lettuce It’s Great. Happy Thanksgiving
Crayola presents all new colors: Red Aqua blue Yellow Orange and Neon green
There are others, but those were the ones I could find easily.
Paul McCartney acknowledged the signs in the audience which led to a wedding proposal on stage involving a Rochester couple, with Jon singing When I’m 64 to Claudia.
c. 2014 K Durkot
I don’t know how to review seeing Paul McCartney in concert on July 5, what turned out to be the first stop on the US leg of his current tour. Want a review? Here’s one by Greg Haymes, and here’s another one by Greg, who I happened to see before the show, and I’d say they are pretty darn accurate.
Also saw Karen, one of my oldest friends, a Beatlemaniac before I was by a few weeks, and that was fab. (Sorry.) The Daughter and I took the CDTA down and back, and THAT was actually worked out almost perfectly.
So let me do a song-by-song musing:
Eight Days a Week – Karen saw his performance at Frank Sinatra School of the Arts last October, a highlight of her life, and he opened with that here as well. The Daughter (L) was so excited; this is the moment it became real, that she has actually seen a Beatle in person.
Save Us – a new song, the one with the line about “heat of the battle”. Enjoyable. I need to listen to that NEW album again.
All My Loving – The Daughter was in heaven.
Listen to What the Man Said -while I turned L on to a lot of Beatles’ music, I haven’t done nearly as good a job with Paul’s Wings and solo career. It was after this when Paul McCartney took off his electric-blue blazer and noted, “That will be the only wardrobe change of the evening.”
Let Me Roll It – it was at the end of this song (I believe) when the band segues into some Hendrix, after which Paul tells this story about Jimi hearing Sgt. Pepper, the title song, and playing it two days later, but asking Eric Clapton, who was in the audience, to tune his guitar; Clapton demurred.
Paperback Writer – some artwork by Richard Prince, an artist who lives in this area on the background screen. Among them were the nurses’ paintings.
My Valentine – his one new song on his 2012 album of standards, dedicated to his third wife Nancy. Later, L and I had this conversation about how often celebrities get married. But, I explained, “his first wife, Linda, died!” She knew of Heather, wife #2, from Dancing with the Stars.
Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five – even though L didn’t know it at all – I REALLY need to start with the Band on the Run album – she got into the uptempo sections of this.
The Long and Winding Road – the last song on Beatles #1s, which I gave her when she was five, to start the Beatles brainwashing.
Maybe I’m Amazed – the guy who was sitting on the other side of me was having a religious experience. It’s my favorite too, dedicated to Linda. No songs dedicated to Heather.
I’ve Just Seen a Face – after L and I saw the movie Help in 2009, I gave her a copy of the Help! album. (Yet because I grew up on the US LP, I STILL associate it with Rubber Soul.)
On My Way To Work – an impromptu addition to the setlist, unknown to the techies
We Can Work It Out – L’s second- or third-favorite Beatles song
Another Day – always thought this was a dopey song, but it’s better live
And I Love Her – I’ve long thought that, while Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road were major accomplishments, putting out the songs for A Hard Day’s Night in the midst of Beatlemania was amazing. Probably the second album the Daughter received.
Blackbird – by this point, he’s solo on the stage, in this forestage that rises as he sings. He tells the familiar tale of writing this during the Civil Rights struggle, particularly in the American South.
Here Today – his song remembering John Lennon. When I first heard it, on the 1981 Tug of War album, I thought it was a bit cloying, but after seeing his 2009 concert in New York City on ABC-TV, which I subsequently got on DVD, I found it amazingly affecting, and I did so again.
Queenie Eye – L and I liked this new song, but it may have gotten the most tepid applause of all his songs.
Lady Madonna – love that psychedelic piano. There were pictures of women and girls throughout on screen, from Marilyn Monroe and Ella Fitzgerald to Anne Frank and the Mona Lisa.
All Together Now – this is a silly song, but the cartoon graphics onscreen were quite appropriate
Lovely Rita – at this point, L is hungry. Actually, she has been for the last several minutes. We squeeze past the other patrons and go down to the concession, where she opted for fried dough, with powder. I decide going back to our seats with this treat, while allowable, is not optimal. So we watch the next several songs from the large screen.
Everybody Out There – you know, he looks very good for 72. The left eye is slightly droopy, perhaps, at least on the big screen.
Eleanor Rigby – another of L’s favorites.
Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite – missed the laser light show, apparently. Love that he does a John song.
Something – Paul tells the story about being at George’s place and George playing the ukulele, so Paul starts the song playing a uke.
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da – L thinks it’s “weird” that I’m writing down all the songs we heard. That’s OK, I think it’s weird that she’s watched that Disney teen beach movie more than once.
Band on the Run – we return to our seats. This song has been mildly spoiled for me ever since I heard side two of THE SPASTIC PHONO BAND, “WINGS UNDER JAPAN”, a parody of Paul’s 1980 marijuana bust. I’m sure that the song came out before John died. (Go to www.blotto.net, click on MP3s, then AUDIO.)
Back in the U.S.S.R. – Paul talks about going to Russia and finding officials who bought Beatles records, learning to speak English in the process.
Let It Be – I notice throughout the audience little white lights swaying to and fro.
Live and Let Die – I tell L that this might be a little scary. The song starts off a bit meh, and suffers from the terrible line, “But in this ever-changing world in which we live in.” But then the pyrotechnics come! My stars! I’ve seen it on TV several times before, but there is nothing like this live. L held my arm tightly; after she got over the initial fear, she really liked it.
Hey Jude – the usual ending, with him asking the guys then the “girls” to sing by themselves the “na na” parts.
He returns for the ENCORE, carrying a large American flag on a pole, while others had a New York State flag, and a UK Union Jack.
Day Tripper – another of L’s favorites, and mine.
Hi, Hi, Hi – Paul reminds us he means a natural high.
Helter Skelter – Paul plays this a LOT in concert. I think he wants to be seen as a real rocker, not the guy with just the sweet songs.
Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End – another failing on my part; L does not recognize the closing suite from Abbey Road!
As I suggested, a great, magical night. Happy am I.
And interesting how much of this show is different from the setlist of that aforementioned 2009 show. That suggests that he’s not just mailing it in, which was pretty evident by his energy and demeanor.
Her favorite book is Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo.
One evening when she had no homework, the Daughter complained, “I understand why you’re limiting me watching television. That’s all right! But reading?”
I was so pleased. I was only “limiting” her reading because she had to go to bed, and get up in the morning. In fact, because of my lax parenting, I had to wake her, as she had fallen asleep, reading some Roald Dahl tome.
Often, her bedroom door is closed in the morning, and I used to assume she was still sleeping. More often than not, though, she is lying in bed but reading a book. She was reading Laura Ingalls Wilder for a time and was recently going through Beverly Cleary. She had entered a poster contest at school – came in third place – and she indicated that her favorite book was Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo. She seems to be over the fairy books that dominated her reading a year or two ago.
She took one of those standardized tests last year in third grade and she did better than 96% of people in her grade.
I’m not trying to raise a Mini-Me, but a thinking, separate person. And, increasingly, she is.
Lydia and Roger, 2010
One of the things I worried about when Lydia was born was whether I would be there when she grew up. After all, I was 51 when she was born, so I’ll be 70 when she’s 19.
What I had not seriously considered, beyond the normal concerns, is what if something happened to her. Her still mysterious illness in late February and much of March made me concerned because, as the doctors eliminated what it was NOT, I still did not know what it WAS.
It wasn’t until mid-May, though, that The Wife and I had a conversation with her about what she felt, I mean beyond the pain. She said that she figured that she’d eventually be OK because God had more plans for her.
This is interesting to me on a few levels. Certainly, we are raising her in the Christian tradition, but this specific narrative did not come from her mother or from me. I have been much more focused on the collective tradition of a Jesus for justice, and less on a God of healing, for while I have seen physical recoveries, I’ve also seen prayers answered in a way that was not what the people wanted.
Lydia and Roger, Niagara Falls, NY, 2011
This gets into the broader issues of parenting, teaching her stuff without saying, “Think as I think.” I work hard trying not to poison her with my… misgivings about United States’ oligarchies and residual racism and gun culture while letting her know, when appropriate, that it’s out there. I’m not trying to raise a Mini-Me, but a thinking, separate person. And, increasingly, she is.
She loves the overt signs of patriotism, flag-waving, and the like, while I’m less comfortable with it. But I can help her with the lyrics of The Star-Spangled Banner without sharing with her that fourth verse, which I know by heart and which REALLY makes me irritated.
I guess I’m doing OK as a dad.
Oh, and a variation on the usual: I wish my daughter had gotten a chance to know MY father. I have the sense that, had he been well enough, he would have visited often, as he had his other granddaughters.
A friend of mine recently saw a bat on his screened-in back porch. He ducked out onto the “porch where said bat was pinwheeling in the air madly,” opened the door, and the creature departed.
