Oops. At breakfast this morning at a local restaurant I accidentally cursed into a silence left by a group of men having a silent prayer. They were very loud previously. The waitress could barely hear our order. Nothing too obnoxious, but still, loud.
I was talking to Eileen about an organ teacher in an Eastern school who was a “motherfucker” to a poor student auditioning. He began hissing and whisper in a stage whisper that the student was taking his Franck too slowly.
I have dozens of anecdotes about musicians like this. I wasn’t talking particularly loudly, but the group next to us got silent into their prayer just as I said “motherfucker” so and so. Ahem.
Whippy skippy, I guess.
My patience with religious people and institutions is at a low right now.
I am however still interested in Calvin Hampton and the music that he composed and the music he was interested in like Franck. I’m on page 72 (out of 307) of his biography and am enjoying it.
I’m waiting for Eileen to leave for work, then I’m going to the book sale at Hope and then over to church to practice organ. Trying not to think about the many tasks I need to do this week for my church job (prep for the instr ensemble reh and All Saints celebration, pick out some anthems for the choir for Advent and Xmas).
The ballet department chair called this morning about fifteen minutes before I would normally leave to walk to class to cancel. Cool.
So Eileen and I had a chance to have our breakfast together (hence the incident at the beginning of this post).
I also had a chance to finish my research for tomorrow’s election. I found my record of how I voted in 2008 along with results. Interesting and helpful. Many websites these days to visit for candidates.
My daughter, Sarah, and my son, David, both let me know they had bad dreams about me this week.
I dreamed about my dead Dad last night. We were in an airport and I was wondering out loud if he could get a discount for being dead.
you know, I had something similar last night Very weird! Maybe its the weather or more likely the angst of the recent events or maybe it is the stress of the season. It was about being prepared for death and the associated organizational stuff with it. The impression was that my Mother was answering the questions and I was nodding in agreement.
Yeah. Weird. Hey. Was the club, “Ramblin’ Rose,” that you owned located on Grand Blanc Road? Last week, I drove past a golf club and barn on Grand Blanc road that really looked familiar….
Yes, that was the place.