Finished reading Edward E. Baptist’s The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism last night before the Good Friday Service. Did you know Abraham Lincoln was assassinated on a Good Friday. It was in April, but it was Good Friday.

This book has changed the way I look at the USA and the world. What more can you ask for from a book? I found a 2016 course description of a class Baptist teaches at Cornell in the history of American Capitalism. I’m not that interested in capitalism but the syllabus has some books that I want to check out (link to a pdf of it).

I ran across this group this morning. This piece is by Philip Glass and is from his opera, Hydrogen Jukebox, which is the result of a collaboration with Alan Ginsburg who wrote the words:

Hey Father Death, I’m flying home
Hey poor man, you’re all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I’m going

Father Death, Don’t cry any more
Mama’s there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store

Old Aunty Death Don’t hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans

O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts’ll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest

Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body’s gone
Father Death I’m coming home

Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues

Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we’ll work it through

Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn

Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.

The people singing are the San Francisco Girl Chorus. I think they are amazing. They just released another album this year with Kronos String Quartet and Father Death Blues is on it.

It’s on Spotify.

final answer by San Francisco Girls Chorus on Spotify

These YouTube recordings seem to be from a music festival in 2016.

This piece is on the album. As is this one:

Still no phone. Next week i will start working on getting one.

Store — Modern Works Music Publishing

Interested digital music publishing. I found it linked to Brad Mehldau‘s website.

It occurs to me that since I am incommunicado, having lost my phone,  these little posts can keep people (mostly fam) notified that I am still among the living.

This morning I was taking my BP (which was low by the way), when there came a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in,” I said. The door swung open and there was Eileen and the cat quickly came in the room. I keep the cat out of the room while I take my BP because he likes to nip me in the vulnerable part of my calf as a sort of love bite when I am sitting on the john. It annoys me and almost certainly does not lower my BP.

Anyway, the cat had been bothering Eileen as she lay in bed. She was worried about me since this is unusual behavior in the cat. He usually attends to me quite closely in the morning. I wonder if Eileen expected to come downstairs and find me dead in the bathroom.

Anyway, I’m not dead.

I just ordered a copy of the collection of essays by Peter Sloterdijk, Not Saved: Essays after Heidegger. I have had an interlibrary loaned copy of this book in my hands for a while, long enough to renew it. I read the essay, “The Time of The Crime of The Monstrous: On the Philosophical Justification of the Artificial,” a while back. The first paragraph of this essay has been rattling around in my head. This morning instead of starting with Greek first, I copied the paragraph into my journal by hand to continue pondering. Then I did my Greek.

I looked up “monstrous” and according to the OED it can be used as this kind of noun. It fits the time we live in, does it not? Especially in the USA. I wonder if due to being more connected via tech we are simply more aware of terrible deeds in our current time like violence against young black men and others, not to mention ongoing wars and the brutal treatment of peoples cast out from their homelands.

Sloterdijk points out we don’t have the alibi of not knowing anymore, if we ever did.

“The mental trauma of the Modern Age is not the loss of the middle, but rather the loss of distance from the many others” he writes a little later in this essay.

Just before this he counts off six world “languages” that have been established in our time:

1. English
2. the dollar
3. multinational brands
4. popular music
5. the news
6. abstract art

I have read a little Heidegger but not enough to understand Sloterdijk’s commentary on him. However, his ideas, like Dan Sigel’s ideas on the mind, give me something to chew over. Both help me understand this bewildering time a tad more.

It also helps to find wonderful music. My brother brought my attention to the work of Brad Mehldau.

On this album Mehldau plays a piece by Bach then he plays something he himself made up (improvised?) using the material of that piece. His musical language is classical/pop/jazz in these pieces and is quite nice (thank you Mark).

This poem is by Rumi. I read it this morning before dawn. I’m feeling a bit melancholy this morning. I’m listening to Julian Bream play Bach on the guitar.

I often feel a bit dislocated this time of year, jerked into an odd sense of my self in the face of the Christian myths. It’s the music that keeps me going.

Today I will continue practicing my Easter postlude and also the accompaniment of the Mathias anthem we are singing at the Vigil. We have done this one before, but it’s like a different anthem on the new organ since the anthem is a dialog between solo organ and choir. It is a nice anthem but it’s taking a lot of work to prepare, especially with playing it and conducting it.

I can see that I am being drawn  into guitar again. I hope this happens. I remember my teacher, Ray Ferguson, telling me that he had recently tried to take up guitar but his “old hands” couldn’t shape themselves into the needed way. This is ironic to me since I knew his hands as expert and skilled musical hands.

But since leaving guitar and now returning to it I have developed more restrictions in the physical ability of my hands. Yesterday I was slowly playing a Ligeti piano etude and realized that there were stretches in it that I will never be able to do at this stage of my capacity (mostly due to Dupuytren’s contracture, a shrinking of the aging hand). I have developed a strategy in the face of this diminishing of my abilities: I fake it and somehow try to preserve my understanding of the music.

So far, my hands have remembered banjo and guitar and the only thing I am feeling is an occasional arthritic pang of pain in my hands, usually the left one. This pang of pain has been with me for a long time so it’s not that big a deal.

The Mind-Expanding Ideas of Andy Clark | The New Yorker

Wednesday afternoons I try to spend some time resting up for the evening rehearsal. One of my habits is to look over the most recent issue of the New Yorker. I save it for that. Yesterday I was reading the cartoons and poetry in it when this article caught my eye. Sure enough, Clark is playing around with ideas that Dan Siegel, the author of the book on mind I am reading, also has. I checked and Clark is quoted in Siegel and several of his books are bibliographed. Who knew?

“Who Knows One” | The New Yorker

This is a poem by Jane Shore in the same issue. However, I read it this morning, aloud. I usually read poetry aloud when I am alone, but in the afternoon prep for Wed rehearsal I don’t do this. This morning I thought I should give the poems in the mag the same chance that reading aloud provides for a good poem. This is a fun one. Both this poem and the previous linked article have embedded audio. I will listen to Shore read her article after I finish.

Josh Katz’s recipe for shakshuka | Life and style | The Guardian

This looks good.

Not much to report today. Eileen did our taxes yesterday. Since she has retired she has taken on the management of money. This is a great relief to me. She always helped, but now I don’t have to do anything  in this area. Cool.

I did not skip my martini last night, despite the fact that my BP was high the day before. I ascribe this spike to loss of my phone. Sure enough, it was back within acceptable range this morning. Between the death of my Mom and the onset of Holy Week, it might not be that great a time to be skipping martinis but its something I need to do more of to pull my BP down into better territory via weight loss.

I ordered some music yesterday.

Eileen suggested that I order the music to Bransle Gay arr. by John Renbourn since I never learned it well. I have been practicing guitar as well as banjo recently. Not sure why, but I have always enjoyed the sound.

I have been meaning to order Ligeti’s Musica Ricercata for piano since recently learning about it.

I also ordered a couple of books by Hakim. He’s not that fabulous a composer but he’s fun to play and comes up with some attractive ideas.

The benefit of having an annual non-renewable music fund for my own use at church.

NYTimes: How to Be a Jew in the Age of Trump?

I admire Simon Schama the author of this article.

NYTimes: Linda Brown, Symbol of Landmark Desegregation Case, Dies

NYTimes: John Paul Stevens: Repeal the Second Amendment

Former Supreme Court Justice Stevens that is.

NYTimes: In Energized Detroit, Savoring an Architectural Legacy

Cool.

I couldn’t find my credit card yesterday. I went through all of my dirty shirts, thinking I may have slipped it into a shirt pocket. Nope. I tried to think when the last time I had used it. Friday evening for Pizza? Eileen wasn’t around so I was on my own looking for it. I finally gave up.

Eileen arrived home at about the time I decided to go practice. She helped me look for my credit card. I realized that the last time I had used it was to purchase my prescription through the drive through window at Meijer. Maybe it was in the car. It was. Whew. I walked back into the house to tell Eileen.

After practicing we went out to eat. I noticed that my phone wasn’t in my purse. I figured I had just forgotten to bring it. However, when we came home, it was not on the charge stand where I try to keep it.

Eileen and I drove to church to see if I left it there when practicing. No sign of it. We stopped off at Evergreen Commons to see if anyone had turned it in. I seem to remember having it with me when I exercised. This is probably last time I remembered having it.

We came home and searched the house.  I returned to church and looked more thoroughly not neglecting to check in the office to see if someone had found it at the organ and turned it in. Nothing.

Finally we gave up. I am losing my mind.

If I don’t find it today I guess I will report it to the phone people and see what happens. Ay yi yi.

I lay in the darkness this morning (without my phone) and read in Dyson’s Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America.

Dyson is a Baptist minister I confused Dyson with Rev William Barber with whom I have been impressed.

However, this book has something to say.

I was impressed how Dyson has written a text for anyone, not just believers. In this, he reminds me of Thomas Merton. Dyson narrates a church service about racism for whites. The first chapter is called “Hymns of Praise.”

Laying in the darkness this morning I made a Spotify playlist of the songs he talks about.

I have been listening to them this morning, hoping that the loud hip hop will not disturb Eileen.

Hymns of Praise

Take the word “overseer, ” like a sample
Repeat it very quickly in a crew for example
Overseer
Overseer
Overseer
Overseer
Officer, Officer, Officer, Officer!
Yeah, officer from overseer
You need a little clarity?
Check the similarity!
The overseer rode around the plantation
The officer is off patrolling all the nation

Watch this one.

I pulled out my banjo this weekend and played it to help with the Hosanna sung at the beginning of the Palm Sunday service. I enjoyed this. I was surprised that my lack of calluses didn’t seem to be much of an issue.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I have been listening to the Pentangle and thinking about how I developed my taste for medieval music and other musics. This morning I listened to solo albums I know well by John Renbourn and Bert Jansch.

When I heard Renbourn playing Bransle Gay, it reminded me that I never did learn this piece well despite loving it.

All of this is to say that I pulled out my nylon string guitar today, brought it to room temp, and then tuned it and played a bit. I never stopped loving the guitar, only playing it. When I opened the case, I was amused to find a palm from Palm Sunday (probably last year). I think I might be inspired to pick up my guitar and banjo again for the lovely hell of it.

During my organ practice yesterday afternoon, I thought about what to play for Easter II. Naji Hakim has written a piece based on “O Sons and Daughters.” This is the hymn about Thomas the doubter that we sing every Easter II since that’s the gospel.

I pulled out Hakim piece and also one of Dandrieu’s two sets of variations on it.

The Hakim captured my imagination. It’s a bit of a handful, but I probably could learn it in time. However, he barely quotes the melody. Dandrieu is much more accessible that way.

I decided to learn both pieces, but use the Dandrieu for Easter II. It’s an Offertoire which is essentially theme and 11 variations. These are very short. At this point, I’m planning on Theme plus 5 variations for the prelude and the remaining 6 variations for the postlude. This French Classical music sits wonderfully on the Pasi and both it and Hakim will be fun to learn and perform.

Eileen has jumped into her Mini and driven up to Whitehall for a visit with her Mom. it’s a beautiful day for a drive. I didn’t skip my martini last night, but was glad to see that my BP and weight are continuing to fall. This evening I probably will skip it.

Poem: “You’re Dead, America” By Danez Smith

I finished reading Danez Smith’s book of poetry, Don’t Call Us Dead, this morning. I think he is a good poet. The linked poem was one that I liked. These lines hit me:

the man from TV

is gonna be president
he has no words

& hair beyond simile
you’re dead, America

& where you died
grew something worse –

 

I still read poetry every morning. This morning I stumbled across an interesting poet, Carolina Ebeid. I was reading her poems in the new American Poetry Review (an ebook version), when I realized she was playing around with words in way that caught my attention.

Reading Celan in a Subway Station by Carolina Ebeid | Poetry Magazine

This is a poem by her online, the poem that drew me in (Four poems) doesn’t seem to be online.

http://newbooksnetwork.com/

It’s encouraging to find an entire network of podcasts about new books. Cool stuff.

NYTimes: The White Southern Anti-Trump

White dude gets it.

NYTimes: What It’s Like to Hear the Desert in Music

John Luther Adams talking. I haven’t read it yet, but here’s a cool video of some of his music.

(continued from yesterday) I also think that when I try to cut down on drinking and snacking, my BP also goes down (as well as the weight). This is what happened this week when I skipped my evening martini on Wednesday and Thursday.

I had an excellent talk with Dr. Birky yesterday. I even had a little  list like I sometimes prepare for my conferences with Rev Jen. I came back up to Holland  and practiced organ for a bit.

Barb Phillips came by the house earlier. Her work as a nurse/care taker brought her to the Holland area for a couple of nights. She lives in Kalamazoo and is a life long friend of ours. She was scheduled to work from 7 PM to 3 AM last night so she stopped by our house in the morning for a little rest before her evening gig here in town. She was up by the time I got back from practicing. The three of us went out for lunch and Barb treated.

After lunch I began messing with my books. I have been culling them with some success. But I also had the idea of organizing books on the first floor a bit better. I began by culling my huge collection of cookbooks. I did this to make room for all the poetry anthologies I own (about two shelves worth). Having moved them out of the poetry shelves next to my chair this made room for a shelf of books that I would like to have on this floor altogether, namely some lovely books that I consult from time to time like Aristotle and Plato mixed in with books I plan to read soon.

The only reason I’m mentioning this is that when I was working on moving the books around, two shelves collapsed and books and stuff went everywhere. Barb and Eileen came from their kitchen card game and asked if I was okay and could they help. I said i was okay and didn’t need any help. I WAS frustrated however. This frustration level rose as the shelves kept falling when I attempted to fill them with books.

Finally I went in the kitchen and asked for help to clear everything back from the shelves so I could hammer them together. Barb and Eileen graciously did this. I began nailing the silly things together. I had difficulty nailing on the left side, being right handed. I remembered that Barb was left handed. “Ever nailed anything before?” I asked her. “Sure!” she said, “I helped put in a roof.” I asked her to come in and nail a nail on the left side of the bookshelf.

“Asking for help” can be a bit boy counter stereotype. When my BP starting elevating intermittently Eileen asked if there was anything she could do to help with my stress. This is tricky. However, it is something I aspire to: Asking for help when I need it.

So my weight and BP went down after skipping martinis two evenings in a row. However, in the midst of my frustration with the bookshelves I decided last night would be a martini night (no whiskey). This morning both BP and weight continue to fall slightly.

This morning I put the Sweet Child album of Pentangle on while I showered. As I listened to the familiar lineup of cuts on the first side of the record, it occurred to me how influential it has been on me.

The first, although credited to group composition by all of the performers, uses market cries that make one think of an English market. It reeks of traditional English folk music. The second song is the African American sorrow song, No More. The third, “Turn your money green,” is by Furry Lewis. I have performed this blues song many times. The fourth, “Haitian Fight Song,” is by the jazz musician, Charles Mingus.

Later on this side they perform a dance by the 16th century French composer, Claude Gervaise; “La Rotta” a medieval dance; and “The Earle of Salisbury” by William Byrd.

There it is. Jupe’s preoccupation with electicism in music plus musics that he loves. I think I picked up this album at K Mart in Flint when I was in my mid teens. I used to buy albums by their covers. That was how I discovered The Doors and Leonard Cohen.

You may remember the dude who fixed my harpsichord. He was kind of an Ann Arbor Early Music snob. So it brought a smile to my face when he tried out my harpsichord playing “The Earle of Salisbury” by William Byrd.  I wish I had said something about Pentangle to him.  It’s hard not to suspect that this guy about my age first heard that piece on that album.

This morning I started out listening to the BBC Arts and Ideas podcast, Rethinking Civilisations. But after doing dishes and making coffee, I felt compelled to pull up Danez Smith’s playlist and start at “It’s a Family Affair.”

It seemed like the right soundtrack for the morning. The play list is still playing, right now Miles Davis’s mellow tune, “It Never Entered My Mind,” has just ended. Now the Temptations are singing “I can’t get next to you,” in a wonderful live recording.

I have an agreement with my doctor. If my BP is over 140 for more than seven days in a row, I will call her and we’ll presumably about it. A couple years ago, it did that and she called in an extra pill to supplement what I had been taking. At that point, my brother and my wife suggested I might need to see out a talk therapist since I seemed stressed to them. This was a happy occurrence, especially in retrospect, since my eventual search for a therapist led me to the office of Curtis Birky who has been a delight and an incredible intelligent resource for me.

The day after my Mom died, when I learned of her actual demise, I was just about to take my BP. Unsurprisingly, it was elevated. Since then, up until this morning, I have been watching it peak occasionally up into the region where I’m supposed to contact Dr. Fuentes.

A couple days ago I decided I should start skipping my evening martini and drinks. My drinking had been increasing a bit even before Mom died. What this is means is that I have a daily evening martini (rarely two), followed by 2 or 3 glasses of wine. The increase is that I would follow that with some whiskey.

Besides the alcohol, I would snack all evening. I think it’s a combination of this habit that has kept my weight higher than I (and the doctor) would like. I also think that when I try to cut down on drinking and snacking, my …

Oops, time to go see Dr. Birky.

To be continued

I have been reading Danez Smith’s book of poetry, Don’t Call Us Dead. He has poems in the March issue of Poetry magazine. I recognized his name on the cover of the book sitting on the new shelf at the library and checked it out.

Smith is a funny guy. He has apparently asked to be referred to as “they” not “he” or “she.” Accordingly, that’s how they are identified in their bio in the mag.

Their poetry springs from an intense engagement with life with lots of erotic and homo-erotic orientation.  It rocks. They are a craftsman and their poems continuing to delight, surprise, and trouble me as I read them.

Since Smith is African American, it strikes me that in deciding to be referred to as “they”  Smith probably has thought about the “us versus them” aspect of being Black in America.

There is some lovely beauty about the whole deal that intrigues and ultimately charms me.

This charm was  made complete this morning when I was laying in bed looking at the Poetry mag app. In the app there are added features that are not in the mag such as discussion guides about some of the poems crafted by the poets themselves (The discussion guide is included in the online version).There is also a long piece where Martín Espada writes about his poem, “Letter to my father.” I shared this poem earlier this month because it impressed me. So reading the extra info provided by the poet about the background of the poem and his relationship to his dead father was very cool.

But what really got me going this morning was discovering in the app that Danez Smith had made a playlist on Spotify to go with the entire issue.  I popped it up on Spotify and listened to it this morning as I did dishes. I have sprinkled some of the songs here as embeds in case you’re curious and don’t want to mess with the Spotify playlist.

It made me think of David Byrne’s recent appearance on the BBC show Desert Island Discs which I wrote about in a previous post.  Smith’s choices were so much more interesting to me than Byrne’s. David Byrne is one year younger than me (He’s 65 and I’m 66). Smith is the generation of our adult children or even younger. I couldn’t find a birth year for him online.

Byrne’s aesthetic is self consciously hip and pretentious. I have had trouble with his narrow approach to music and mentioned it here before. What struck me most about Smith’s choices (of the ones I have listened to so far) is that they drew me in with their sound. This is so important to me and what I am always curious about. How does the music sound?

I had to wonder how he ran across some of his choices. Did his parents listen to Marvin Gaye? His grandparents? The styles he chooses (like Byrne’s) grow out of popular music tastes, a taste I share. But Byrne puts me in mind a bit of Paul Simon’s career choice to take music by other musicians and build new music out of it. It feels a step or two away from the authenticity I treasure in music. At the same time, I enjoy music by these men of my generation, but I also need to listen, play, and think about music in a broader and different way.

I suspect Smith’s choices are made with a different kind of passion. Here’s what he has to say about his list:

Confession: I love making a playlist. I love pretending I’m a DJ. I fancy myself pretty decent at working up a groove via a Spotify playlist. I wish I could burn you all a CD, but I tried to pick these songs with similar care so you can jam a little as you settle in with the March issue of Poetry. This playlist has a song for every poem.

Danez Smith

I was chatting on the phone with my brother last night. He pointed out that I seemed to be understanding Siegel’s ideas on mind or at least finding them accessible. This isn’t quite the deal. I’m excited by them, but still haven’t grasped them in a clear way.

The Siegel book almost feels like homework for my therapy since the author was suggested to me by Dr. Birky (my therapist) as one he reads and admires (and by the way finds difficult).

Siegel says that systems in chaos and/or rigidity resist the flow of integration. He uses his own experience of grief over learning of the impending death of a friend and colleague who was a father figure for him. He went back and forth between the rigidity of sadness and the chaos of memories. He was on a plane to see his friend. He began writing about his ideas of mind and was seized by a feeling of ideas flowing out of him into the writing. He described this feeling in another place as instead of “writing the book” in the midst of inspiration (integration, he would say), the “book wrote me.”

This puts me in mind of the times I experience a heady sensation of composing music. The music does compose me at that point, as well.

So systems that are integrated, flowing, move away from chaos and rigidity. I was amused that Siegel used the term, “stuck,” for the latter. This was the way Ed Friedman talked about our selves and our society at large in the USA. This would have been in the 80s.

Siegel loves acronyms. “I clearly have an acronym addiction,” he writes. Here are a couple. I find them food for thought.

Regarding the optimal integration in one’s life he gives this descriptive acronym

Flexibility
Adaptability
Coherence
Energy
Stability

He was looking for ways to think about healthy mind, this thing we can’t really define. He came up with this acronym:

integration feels

Connected
Open
Harmonious
Emergent
Receptive
Engaged
Noetic (a sense of knowing)
Compassionate
Empathic

This all has a new-age/self-help feel, I know. But Siegel has been the champion of the subjective in fields where academics (especially last century) strove for objectivity. This probably  necessitates a nod to the goofy.

But I found Carl Roger’s prose very goofy at times as well.

The Last Conversation You’ll Need to Have About Eating Right

I think about nutrition from time to time. My niece, Emily, put this on her Facebook feed. I haven’t read it all.

NYTimes: What Holds America Together

David Brooks uses some Whitman to talk about democracy and stuff. I like that one of his commenters takes him and the right to task for not standing up to George Bush. This commenter warmed my heart when he included Thomas Friedman on a list of those who cheer-led us into Iraq.

NYTimes: Fifteen Years Ago, America Destroyed My Country

This guy was on the ground during the beginning of the Iraq invasion. He got out in time.

It has been some nine months since the Pasi organ at church has been under my fingers.  During this time, I have gradually learned more about how to register it (that is, decide which pipes to use on a piece of music).

Some pieces I have put aside due to the fact that they need more pipes or more manuals (keyboards). One of these was “What A Friend We Have in Jesus” by William Bolcolm. I quite like his writing, but he is difficult. I had registered this piece on the old organ.

When deciding which colors to use on a piece, the first choice is to do what the composer recommends. This piece (along with others of his settings of American hymns) was written for Marilyn Mason, I believe. The sounds change constantly in it.

I have learned that my organ is essentially a chamber instrument. It has taught me to take a registration and scale it down to the reduced scale of my instrument. Yesterday, I was amazed at how easily I could adapt to “What A Friend We Have in Jesus.” This makes me happy, since I have been working on this piece on and off for a long time. I seem to know the notes pretty well. Now, I have to practice pulling stops.

I ordered my own copy of Siegel’s book on the mind this morning. I am finding his ideas interesting and even exciting. When he talked about defining one aspect of the mind as not only found in the energy and information flow in the body but between people, I wondered how this would fit in with my understanding self-differentiation. I think of self-differentiation as being able to tell where I stop and others begin, not as easy as it sounds.

Siegel proposes that mind possibly follows the mathematical idea of emergent self-organization. Roughly this means that a system will organize itself spontaneously with no external cause, often occurring at random (link to Wikipedia article). I found it helpful to think about how clouds form by a spontaneous complex self organization often involving chaos (Chaos theory).

So I was very excited this morning when I read that Siegel says optimal self-organization involves:

1. differentiation
2. linking and connecting

It’s easy to see how this works in relationships between people. The section I am reading in the book at this point deals with optimal organization of mind. We do not exactly know what mind is in the first place, so with the reasoning of discussing but one unusual possible aspect of the mind, Siegel goes on to ponder “what is a healthy mind?”

This is what the “optimal” above is about.

So, to pick up where I left off yesterday, I did go practice, but only for an hour. I was tired.

This morning I listened to David Byrne’s Desert Island Disc show on a BBC Podcast. While I admire Byrne’s curiosity and much of his music, it seems to me that his interests do not extend to the historical music. This puzzles me about musicians. Their ability to limit themselves to knowing a small span of music in an age where so much music is available.

I think Byrne spent his musical life looking for what was happening around him. It feels like he is satisfied to live on the cusp of what is happening now, instead of learning more about where it came from. Take the last record on the show. It’s a pseudo gospel piece. Nothing wrong with that. But there is so much good gospel music out there, it’s kind of odd that Byrne chose this nondescript little piece.

Listening to him talk helps me understand his book about music better. When I read it, I did glean some insights from it. But I was also dazzled by his ignorance and outright mis-understandings in some areas of music. I remember talking to my piano trio players about it. They said I should write the publisher. But I was disinclined to do so.

This morning I decided to use up a bunch of veggies in the fridge and improvise a vegetable stew. Eileen has been making beef stew for herself lately. It smells great. When she makes chili, she often makes a veggie version for me. I thought I could do something similar with her beef stew. Plus I had veggies to use up.

So I cooked up some mushrooms in butter. In another pot, I gentle simmered a bunch of garlic slivers in olive oil. I combined these. In the empty pot, I added a little more oil, then simmered diced onion and pepper. Combined this with the rest of previous ingredients and added some frozen corn and simmered for a while. While it was simmering I mixed some veggie bouillon with some home made stewed tomatoes and then added. I cut up chunks of carrot, potato, and celery and put them in the pot. Simmered for forty minutes, then added broccoli and squash for an additional 5 minutes.

Judging from how cooked the broccoli is, I could have simply added the broccoli and squash and turned off the heat. But no matter. It looks good.

Eileen got  up and said she was going to make chili today. Now, she doesn’t have to make a veggie version since I have all this veggie stew.

(N.B. I discovered this morning that I wrote this post but did not publish yesterday. This means “yesterday” in this post refers to Saturday and “today” to Sunday.)

Yesterday, for the funeral  for the first time ever I used some of the slow movements of the Bach organ trios in the prelude. These pieces are meaning a lot to me lately so it was fun to share them  in that context.

I have just gotten home from Peter Kurdziel’s organ recital at my church. Not surprisingly he played very well. He also worked  the crowd and had some complimentary things to say about me. Touching, really.

The organ sounded great. I’m trying to build up the energy to go back and practice.

Mary Jenkins : March 12, 2018 | Holland, MI

Mom’s online obit.

NYTimes: How Trump Consultants Exploited the Facebook Data of Millions

This is a wild story.

NYTimes: Kris Kobach’s Voting Sham Gets Exposed in Court

What can I say? It bothers me that encouraging voting seems to only help non-Republicans.

Eileen and I have had a lot of support the past few days as we deal with my Mom’s death on last Monday. My brother and his wife sent flowers to us as did the choir. My doctor, Dr. Fuentes, even phoned to express her condolences (that was a surprise!).

I am finding myself mostly relieved by this stage of my relationship with my Mom. I haven’t done too much mourning, but it’s bound to come. I find that when I am alone I often am processing what has happened. But when I am with others my emotions are more likely to come to the surface.

I spent time this morning reading Siegel’s Mind: A Journey to the Heart of Being Human. He introduces the mathematical idea of an emerging self organizing system. This kind of a system is one that emerges but is not directly caused by a program or a initiator. The example that helped me was thinking of clouds. Clouds are not the result of a process so much as an emerging organization of air molecules, water molecules, temperature, wind and so on. They are necessarily chaotic.

Since Siegel is working on expanding the concept of mind beyond brain and body to interpersonal relationships and even society at large, the idea of how clouds self organize illustrates aspects that he is introducing into understanding mind as an open system, chaos capable and  non-linear. I probably not explaining this clearly. He does.

I also liked how he challenges the reader to think about his own mind.  When your mind seems to be acting on its own, what’s happening can be understood as emerging self organization. I immediately thought of how musicians/artists/writers sometimes have inspirations that seem to come to them from somewhere else.

Then these two sentences struck me: “Self-organization does not need a conductor. Sometimes things unfold best when we get out of the way.”

This is a basic concept I work with on a daily basis as a musician and a coach of singers and others. Just the last week I have more than once talked to musicians about “letting the music happen.”

These are ideas I am going to be thinking about for a long time.

NYTimes: Stephen Hawking Dies at 76; His Mind Roamed the Cosmos

Great obit of a great man.

Smart Ass Cripple

I read an article by this guy in The Progressive mag (not online but my daughter, Elizabeth, has her copy sent to us and uses a digital subscription in China). I found him so astute that I read his blog a bit. That’s the link.

NYTimes: Gina Haspel’s Rise Is No Victory for Feminism

Haspel is Trump’s nominee to lead the CIA.

NYTimes: Kurt Weill’s Music for a Magical Dance, Lost and Now Found

I am a fan of this composer.

The New Gatekeepers – Columbia Journalism Review

I heard a report this morning that is line with this critique of Facebook on On The Media regarding how Google changes maps to be viewed by different countries.

My Mom died on Monday evening around 11 PM. I was sound asleep by then. Eileen noticed that the nursing home had called my phone and hers. She woke me and gave me her phone to return the call, but no one picked up. Tuesday morning, I returned calls and found out that Mom was dead and on her way to the funeral home for eventual cremation.

All day yesterday, I grappled with a pretty complex reaction to her death. I felt relief and concern about next steps after her death concerning her affairs that I have been attending to for a while. Eileen was devastated. It was obvious to her what the nursing home had called to tell us on Monday evening and she slept badly.

I met the packer from Two Men and a Truck at Maplewood Resthaven where Mom lived for about nine years. Since the packer was a woman, I thought about the sexism of their name for the first time (i’m ashamed to admit). The packer said that she thought the name of her company was creepy as well. After setting her up to pack up Mom’s stuff to send to Bibles for Mexico, I met with the funeral director. I was further relieved to find out that Allegan county automatically notifies Social Security about a death. The funeral director recommended that I stop by the local Social Security office sometime and confirm that this was done.

When Dad died, the transition was easier since Mom was still alive. This time, I think I become executor of her will and have to see to dozens of details. I made an appointment with an estate type lawyer for next week to discuss these details to make sure I get them right and don’t leave anything out.

We are not planning a funeral per se for Mom. I can’t think of many people in her long life that would be able to make it anyway. Most of them are already dead. I called my brother not long after I learned about Mom’s death and then later called my daughters to tell them personally over the phone. Then I sent out an email to extended fam. There are members of my fam and my brother’s fam who would probably be interested in being present when her and Dad’s ashes are interred. So that’s the working plan. No date set yet. I need to talk with my brother more about this.

So after talking with the funeral director I went back to see how the packer was doing. She wasn’t quite finished. I came home for a bit then returned and met the movers. We had them move Mom’s fancy chair (in which I am now sitting) and a lamp and a table to our house. The rest went to Bibles for Mexico along with some junk on our porch including my old treadmill.

After all this and intermittently consoling my beautiful wife, I ended up on the organ bench at church. I have been taking a great deal of pleasure in practicing on this amazing instrument. Again I read through Bach organ trios which sound pretty splendid on this instrument. It was a good place to be on the day after your Mom’s death.

Eileen and I went out to eat last night and raised a margarita in Mom’s honor. I think the last week of her life, she was mostly comfortable. She ate and spoke little but it was clear she was not miserable the way she had been before entering Jacob’s Cottage (where she died). Eileen and I went to see her every day.

Eileen pointed out that Mom would not have approved of us having a drink in her honor. My Mom and Dad spent a lot of their lives thinking it was a sin to take a drink. They both eased up a bit on that as they matured, but they always refused to pay for drinks when we went out to eat.

At the same time, Eileen said that she was grateful to my Mom and Dad for accepting her into the family so well. I said, why wouldn’t they?

I’ve been thinking about  the Bach organ trios. Yesterday for about an hour and half I rehearsed all movements of the first two. They sound wonderful on the new organ. It inspires me to use them as preludes and postludes. I have learned most of them in the past and even performed them in church recitals.

I am having the experience of the new organ breathing life into much of my previous repertoire. Thus, next Sunday’s postlude will be C H. Parry’s choral prelude on Rockingham (When I survey the wondrous cross). I have performed this piece several times in the past few years. It’s stuffy and Anglican and part of the tradition I am currently serving. But I have to say it is very beautiful on the new organ.

When I performed the Widor toccata a few weeks back, I had a parishioner say that he remembered what it sounded like on the old organ. Listening to what people say about music is one of my favorite activities.

pentecost suite for marimba and organ by jupe

We had supper with Rhonda and Mark Edgington on Friday. Rhonda brought me a recording of the piece I wrote for her (Breath Dance). I was ill and was unable to attend the performance. But it’s on a CD waiting for me to mess with in. I’ll probably put it up here once I get on my computer.

Later she emailed a link to a recording of my Marimba piece. That’s what’s above. I’m listening to it as I write. It surprises me to hear things I have written and enjoy them. Similar to the pleasant surprise I had playing through the Bach trios yesterday. I forget that I’m not a bad composer or player.

This morning Eileen and I will continue to knock of Mom transition tasks. We are going to go over to Maplewood and give one last look before we bring in Two Men and a Truck.

This evening I have Worship Commission.

Wilco’s Nels Cline Debuts Jazz Band on Upcoming Record – Rolling Stone

From indie to jazz… who knew?

NYTimes: 25 Songs That Tell Us Where Music Is Going

I love these articles…. haven’t checked out the music yet

Restorative justice – Wikipedia

We had lunch Friday with Judy and Thom Gouwens. Judy mentioned this concept and I didn’t know quite what it was. She was saying that she is teaching teachers about it now but that she actually was doing something very similar when she was Sarah’s first grade teacher. Nice lunch. Good people.

NYTimes: The Playlist: Sade’s Haunting Lullaby, and 11 More New Songs

I’m behind on check this music out. I do like Sade.

NYTimes: How to Cut Down on Unwanted Junk Mail

Inspires me to do something about junk mail… also Sports Illustrated thinks I subscribed to them and issues keep appearing in my mail

NYTimes: Turning the Rubble of China’s Mass Evictions into Protest Art

Lately I’ve noticed that all the terrible shit in the world is inspiring artists, poets, musicians, and such to make art. Cool.

NYTimes: How Do You Teach People to Love Difficult Music?

These people’s answer by emphasizing story over structural listening.

NYTimes: Frida Kahlo Is a Barbie Doll Now. (Signature Unibrow Not Included.)

Good grief!

I skipped blogging yesterday. Wednesday was the third frenetic day in a row for me so I took yesterday off as much as possible. I almost have all the information I need for Mom’s medicaid app. Her annuity provider (Mass Mutual) is mailing me the doc I need for it. When that arrives I will take what I have back to Laurie at Resthaven and work on the app. After that all we have to do is spend down Mom’s remaining assets to qualify for Medicaid.

Mom has seemed more comfortable the last few times Eileen and I visited her. She is due for a competence eval today. I’d be surprised if they deemed her mentally competent at this stage. I’m pretty sure she is still in there, but she communicates in very brief sentences and mostly wants to sleep.

Eileen was working at Mom’s room yesterday when she noticed that a truck from Bibles for Mexico was sitting outside the building. She ran out and talked to them. They came in and took away a lot of stuff. As Eileen says, “a good chunk of” of what we needed to get out. This was very helpful and satisfying.

I had a good trio rehearsal yesterday. Again with the Bach B minor violin sonata. These are essentially trios between the violin, the cello/harpsichord left hand (same line), and the harpsichord right hand. The introduction to this edition points out that Bach didn’t write that much in trio texture. I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess it’s true. The violin sonatas, three of the flute sonatas, the organ trios, three of the gamba sonatas. Interestingly, I have played most if not all of these. I am drawn to three part texture.

In the afternoon, I played and thought about Rameau. I read through music that I have known for decades and some of a suite I had not played before. The suite turned out to be pretty amazing. I found this recording of it. This player plays very well and captures the spirit of it.

I couldn’t remember if I studied any Rameau with Ray Ferguson who taught me harpsichord as well as organ.

Today Eileen and I are quite the social butterflies. We are meeting Thom and Judy Gowens for lunch. Judy was my daughter Sarah’s first grade teacher. Thom is an organist. We haven’t seen them for years. They are driving up from Chicago today on their way to Muskegon for a gig for Thom. It will be interesting to catch up with them.

Then for dinner, we are meeting my friend Rhonda and her husband for a pre concert meal together. The concert we are attending is a a Great Performance Series concert by Dr. Lonnie Johnson. I hope he does some tunes like this one:

Well, I didn’t accomplish everything I had on my agenda yesterday. However it was a good, if difficult, day.  Eileen and I met with the Hospice team. It consisted of Melissa the nurse, a social worker and a medical assistant of some sort. Melissa did most of the talking and that was good because she was definitely intelligent, articulate and highly socialized. But I keep having weird experiences with social workers.

I am finding some people who are social workers are not terribly good listeners. Also, that their frame of reference is limited and tends towards stereotyping stuff. I had to keep correcting the social worker yesterday as she quickly categorized and analyzed my history with my parents. But I doubt she noticed it.

But no harm done. And the important thing is that these people are going to care well for my Mother. I had an application for Mom to sign yesterday that would authorize me as Service Rep for her with Social Security. She was sitting up in the cafeteria when we arrived a bit before our appointment with the Hospice team. She took the pen in her hand and Eileen attempted to guide her, but it was to no avail. She couldn’t pull off a signature.

I quickly told Eileen we could wait. The fact is Mom may not sign another form since she is failing. No harm there.  This week two psychologists will examine Mom to determine if she has the capacity to act on her own or is she is mentally competent.

It’s very probably that she will be declared mentally incompetent. I think that at this point my durable powers of attorney kick in and I assume responsibility for decisions for Mom.

I’m guessing this will mean that I won’t need that paper signed about being her Service Rep with Social Security, that I will be authorized to contact them on her behalf. But we’ll see. This is less pressing since Social Security resolved my recent fuck up.

At our evening meal Eileen mentioned that it was difficult to watch Mom fail. This is true. But my main concern is not her recovery which is unlikely but her comfort which is possible. The latter is enhanced by the addition of the Hospice Team.

After the meeting with them, I dropped Eileen off at home and went to church. Charles Huttar had arranged for me to meet his grandson, Omid Huttar, while Omid was visiting. This was fun. Omid is a young musician who not long ago graduated from what he described as a popular music college. We chatted. He recommended some music for me to listen to as a result of our conversation. I always like that.

He was interested in learning more about our Pasi organ. He is a guitarist but he also does keyboards. He say down and played a bit. I showed him the inside of the organ (the trackers) and how the swell box works. I think it was new info for him.

Charles had sent him my so-called Jazz mass. I’m not sure exactly why but Omid was interested in it and asked me to play it for him, which I did.

We exchanged emails and promised to connect again sometime. I sent him a link to this blog this morning (Hi Omid!)

(All the art in my blog today is by the late Jean-Michel Basquiat)

Eileen and I had a very productive day yesterday. We met with representatives from Hospice of Holland in Mom’s room at the nursing home where she is now. That process is now set in motion. Mom seems more comfortable than she did anyway, but this team will now be on hand to assure she receives comfort care. We meet today with the actual care team. I’m assuming that will be the nurse I spoke to on the phone, plus a doctor and a social worker or some combination like that. The hospice doctor is coincidentally the same doctor that Resthaven has assigned to Mom.

We came home and plunged into the paperwork tasks ahead of us. Eileen found the title to Mom’s car in our files. We need this for the Medicaid app. I gathered information about Mom’s pension for that app as well. I found a form online to apply to become Mom’s Social Security Representative. Technically Mom is applying for me to do so. Eileen helped me fill this out. We’ll ask Mom to sign it today and drop it off at the Social Security office here in Holland.

We need this in order for me to straighten out the mess I made with Social Security last year by failing to submit the annual changes in the amount of Mom’s pension so that Social Security can adjust her monthly allotment accordingly. When I discovered the error, I immediately took steps to provide the info needed. That was in December or even earlier.  Up until yesterday morning we had not heard from them.  We need to provide the amount that Social Security pays Medicare for Mom’s insurance on the Medicaid app.

Confusing, n’est pas?

By lunchtime I felt like we had accomplished a good amount. I decided I would go exercise. But before I did that, just for giggles I checked Mom’s bank account online. Social Security had made a deposit into Mom’s account resuming her monthly payment and also reimbursing for the month’s that went unpaid during this period. This is an immense relief.

Yay! as Rev Jen said in a subsequent email exchange with me about this.

Today is also a day to get shit done. We will continue with the app for Social Security Representative. I also have to run down info on the annuity that Dad had and Mom inherited for the Medicaid app.

Plus I have assigned myself the task of canceling all Mom’s services that she is no longer using like her phone, paper, and other stuff.

Soon we will contact Two Men and Truck for an estimate for clearing Mom’s room at Maplewood.

I think we are on schedule. We can’t really submit the Medicaid app until Mom has drained her bank account paying for her current care. She just received a substantial amount form Social Security which will extend this time from a couple of weeks to more like a month.

NYTimes: Most House Salads Are Terrible. Make Yours Shockingly Superb.

I like reading about food and food prep. Plus I’m a salad man, so I found this engaging.

NYTimes: Lucali Salad Recipe – NYT Cooking

linked recipe to above article I bookmarked for future reference

NYTimes: Honduras Police Arrest Executive in Killing of Berta Cáceres, Indigenous Activist

Activism can get you killed.

NYTimes: Suspect Detained in Killing of the Indian Journalist Gauri Lankesh

so can journalism

NYTimes: Philando Castile Charity Pays Off Lunch Debt for Hundreds of Students

using a senseless death for a constructive outcome that honors the way Castile lived