adventures


15
Sep 25

‘Four years (prostrate) to the higher mind’ is doubly ironic

This is quick, because I am doing class prep. We’re reading two stories in Criticism tomorrow. In Org Comm we’ll be talking about the very important and incredibly interesting definitions of communication. It’ll probably be the slowest week in that class for the semester. You need baselines for everyone, though, because there are students from multiple majors and it’s important to make this approachable. Next week will be more fun, this week is definitions.

That’s what I’ll tell them tomorrow.

And there’s also my online class, which is new. Three new classes to wrangle, every week, between now and December. It seems like a lot to me, but I’m gamely going to try.

And that’s why this is quick.

For some reason, even on a mild day, the irrigation systems out in the fields look refreshing. This was part of an easy 20 mile ride on Saturday afternoon. It was one of those days where I set out to go this way, got halfway there, and then went that way instead. It was a good day for that.

Sure, it was right out of the neighborhood and then a mile and a quarter down to the stop sign. There, instead of going straight, I turned left. We go this way sometimes, but I don’t do it often when I’m on my own. It’s an up and down thing, and then you cross a busy intersection — if you can catch the light — and go by the warehouses that they’ll never finish building or fill with inventory. Down to the river, and back up through some farm land and you can keep going down that road, where you’ll eventually run into a town, and the big river, and have to change directions, or you can turn early. This is what I did today. There are two or three roads that you can turn onto that will lead you back to another road that can point you home. But we rarely cut those short, and so it’s a guess: Is this a road that crosses over to the highway, or is this a road that dead ends in a corn field?

And so I’m going down this side road, hoping it is an in-between road, trying to remember if I remember it or not. The features don’t really help. It feels right, but not distinctively so.

Then, the road bends to the left, and forks to the right. This is where a white Cadillac decided to pass me in a slow and unsafe way. (Thanks for that, young person driving your grandparent’s Caddy … ) She went left. I went right, and I was rewarded with distinctive features. I was on the road I wanted, a double tree-lined affair that was quite and pleasant and demanded you sit up and go slow — which wasn’t a problem for me.

Eventually, I ran into this sign.

If you turn right, you’d go this way, and wind up down at the river, or someplace.

If you turn left, you wind your way to another tributary, but the highway which will take me back toward home.

I stood there and felt the sun and listened to the wind for a few pleasant, long minutes. It was the perfect time of day in a lovely little place and I had it all to myself, all of it. And maybe that’s the reason we should ride bikes.

OK, here’s the last clip from last week’s show. Four, from me, is a pretty decent amount of restraint. Anyway, because they’ve been at it for four decades now, the Indigo Girls obviously have to play the hits. And they’ve long established their most mainstream number as a regular big finish. It got a lot of people in the door, and those people won’t let you leave without it.

(I wonder how long a show would be if they played all of everyone’s favorites. We already wound up taking a late train out of town, and they didn’t play all of my favorites this time. They can’t play them all. They should play them all.)

Anyway, the regulars are counting songs and they know it’s about to come and OK, everybody sing along. And also here’s three-time Grammy Award winner, and holder of Four CMA awards, Jennifer Nettles, to help us out too.

  

I hope we get to see them again next year.


12
Sep 25

Fire from the years

I wrote this out in outline form, went away and did some other stuff, and then came back to it. The first two notes were

Meetings.

Chairs.

I had meetings all morning. One of the meetings, no kidding, was about another meeting in a few weeks. At the end of meeting we discussed future dates for other meetings. It was run efficiently, and with good cheer. I took the notes. We ended right on time, having completed the full agenda which was, again, mostly about another meeting.

That other meeting will be a brief appearance. A few people from this meeting will attend that meeting and discuss what we do at these meetings.

There will be slides.

The next point on my list was “Chairs.” I have no idea what I meant to say there.

On today’s bike ride I tried out some new sunglasses. I needed to update my drip.

The frame better matches my helmet and the lenses are blue, though it doesn’t seem obvious there. The lenses are also bigger than any glasses I’ve worn before, but that’s the style, and aren’t we slaves to style?

The problem is right at the top, just above the bridge of the nose. It rubs right into the interior part of the helmet. It seems like there should be some space or flexible bend there or something, but alas.

The little Giro logo rubbed off the front of my helmet, I think from one day when I was working on a flat tire and leaning on the saddle. I’ll scrape it off eventually, but for now, it amuses me. It looks like bad video game faux text.

This was the sunset at the end of the ride.

We timed that up pretty well, but only because we were going fast. I had a few massive splits — well within the “fast” category. I can only do that for four or five miles at a time, though, and humility comes to me quickly, usually in the form of a headwind. Sometimes a small hill.

Here’s another shot from Radio City Music Hall’s iconic neon. We had a nice visit there on Wednesday to see Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls. It was my third time seeing Etheridge and … I dunno … the 10th or 12th time I’ve seen Amy and Emily, but it was my first concert at Radio City.

And so here’s “Kid Fears,” with Etheridge singing Michael Stipe’s part. That song is now 36 years young, but all of the people that have come through to sing along keep it fresh. Listening to the crowd enjoy it is still a great deal of fun.

  

I think I’ll put one more clip up on Monday. They had another special guest at the end of the show, and it’s worth pointing out.

But that’s for Monday, and now it’s time for the weekend, which I will spend doing some work for next week’s classes. The life of glamor that I can tell you about …


11
Sep 25

Today was draft day

Well this was a beautiful, warm September day. I managed to do everything mostly on time and, in the day’s best victory, I did not stain a suit coat or pair of slacks, as I did on Tuesday. A bit on the left sleeve at the wrist. A bit on the lower side of the left lapel. A big nasty splotch on the leg of the trousers. It was the sort of food-based accident that kept revealing more and more staining, the more I looked.

So I stopped looking.

Note to self, find a miracle-working dry cleaner.

This was the view on the drive in to campus.

Just a lovely day.

In my criticism class I wrapped up the lecture on the purpose and a bit of the how about media criticism. Comparing notes later with my recollection I realized I left out a few things. Some of them I meant to include! But I can work them all back into the conversation later this semester. We’ll start doing some actual critiquing on Tuesday.

One of the elements of the class is that I’ll have the students find some of the material we’ll study. One group found a piece which looks like it should be a lot of fun to unpack next Tuesday. I added one to the list, as well. I figure that, in a week or two, we’ll start bringing a bit more structure into the efforts. If they’ll go along with me, this could be a lot of fun.

I hope they’ll go along with me.

In org comm, we had a fantasy football draft today. The down side to organizational communication is that it isn’t the most fun class for everyone, though it is helpful and useful and the subject matter will be important to people later on. This is a class my lovely bride has been developing for a while now, and so I’m following her lead and turning the lessons and lectures into something that they can fold into and around their fantasy team. So on Tuesday they had to develop their teams, the colors, the mascots, the location, their target demographics. And today they had to pick their teams.

I wanted to take a high angle shot of the room, just like you see on draft day. But I have to tell you, there’s a good solid handful of people in the class that know each other already, and they were having a great time talking smack to one another today. There are six groups, so six student teams in the league, and I think the NFL could do something very interesting by bringing a few franchises into the same space on draft day, just to let us see what the interactions would look like.

I also drafted a team, a team designed to be beat. So most of my players are named Smith, but eventually you run out of Smiths — the one place you can run out of Smiths is the NFL it seems — and so I had to start picking some other people. But then a weird thing happened. This was a 16-round draft, and each team had two minutes to pick, so there was some time to think and, around round nine or so, I thought: I want to actually draft a team that is good.

But, no, the purpose of my team is to give everyone an automatic W when they face me. The purpose of their teams is to let them put into a classroom exercise the things that we talk about. The purpose of the league is to give a group or two the chance to have some bragging rights at the end of the semester. I don’t think that part will be a problem.

Last night at Radio City Music Hall I saw this mural, which is installed near the men’s restroom. It is titled “Men Without Women,” and all of this was oddly placed considering that women were joining the queue for the men’s room.

Anyway, the art was done by Stuart Davis (1892-1964) and we’re just going to have to again wrap our heads around the idea that 19th century people were forming the works that drove much of the 20th century. (People will look at Gen X and Millennials that way one day, too.) This is an oil-on-canvas, painted in 1932, and it is on loan from the Museum of Modern Art.

The little plaque next to it says:

Davis, a prominent 20th Century American artist and a pioneer of the Modern Movement, was commissioned by the architects of Radio City This abstract montage was named by the Rockefeller Center Art Committee after the story by Ernest Hemingway. The mural was planned to be executed in linoleum; however, the NYC Fire Department prohibited the use of this medium. Among the masculine imagery in the piece are smoking paraphernalia, barber poles, playing cards, a sailboat and a roadster convertible. The mural was removed from the lounge in 1975 and given to the Museum of Modern Art. It was returned to the Music Hall as a part of the 1999 restoration.

So it was in this place for 43 years, and it has been back for 26 years.

Davis was one of the first artists to apply for the Federal Art Project during the Great Depression. He loved jazz, and it shows. The same year he painted this, he lost his wife. Wikipedia tells me he liked neither where this work was installed or the name the committee gave it.

It was a bad year. Maybe he had happier ones after that.

If you’re on stage at Radio City Music Hall, this is your view.

It looks empty there because that was about 15 minutes before the show started and people continued to file in for the next three hours, which was the total run of the show. Apparently the thing to do at this place is just wander back and forth.

Anyway, here’s the Indigo Girls playing “Faye Tucker.” Lyris Hung makes even straightforward little violin pieces turn into something that will soar over a room and linger in the air before settling in your lap. It’s not a delicate thing, but that song is an in-your-face confrontation.

  

I won’t put up every song. I may put up two more, for the special appearances, but that’s probably it.


10
Sep 25

Let the wind blow back your hair

Worked in the home office this morning and early afternoon. Then we drove to the train station, where I saw this sign.

The people putting that sign together, and installing that art on the train platform, must have done all of that during off hours. What doesn’t feel right to me is the woman who watched videos on her phone at full volume for the better part of an hour.

Fortunately her stop was before ours, and we had blissful silence for 17 seconds. At the same stop, a woman got on the train, mid-phone conversation, speakerphone, full blast. It’s a common complaint of modern life: the loss of social graces, and headphones. I’ve nothing new to offer the conversation, and this isn’t playing through a loud speaker, so no one could hear it anyway.

We had dinner at The Alderman, the pre-theater dinner special, a four-course meal and you pick the two in the middle. I had a brightly tart, almost citrus salad with a lot of arugula. And then this half chicken which was drenched in grilled lemon juice.

It was all quite tasty. And now I want it again.

Then we went to the nearby Radio City Music Hall.

This was my first trip there. And it occurs to me that they should probably offer tours. Probably a half-hour walkthrough would be a decent draw. I’d think you could see and learn a few interesting things.

It turns out that they offer daily 60-minute tours! I hope it includes the chance to sing a little song or dance a jig on the stage.

Here’s the iconic sign, as you walk across the intersection. Yes, I will stop traffic in New York City for a photograph of neon. Fortunately, the people there are all very nice and understanding and accommodating.

Playing there tonight, Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls. We saw them late last summer, and they were close enough, so we caught them again. Etheridge opened the show. She’s 64 and less dramatic (her word) but she still commands a stage, still has all of her power and can command absolute control of a venue. I had the first six or seven records on a variety of cassettes and CDs, but moved on somewhere along the way.

When we saw her last year, she did a dynamite cover of Joan Armatrading on the piano. And maybe, she had not been successful, Etheridge would have been the best cover singer you’ve never heard of. She does a killer Billy Joel cover and here, she’s mixing one of her own songs with a bit of her idol, Bruce Springsteen for a “The Letting Go – Thunder Road” medley.

And it hit.

  

Really fun show, wonderful venue. Took the subway to the train and the train to the car and then the drive home. Late night, long day tomorrow. And I’ll put up something from the Indigo Girls then.


1
Sep 25

Happy Labor Day

Welcome to September. And to fall. And the semester. Anything else? Everything else. And so long summer. Except for the second summer, which is here for a time. Second summer, a mild, brief, way to overwrite the memory of the heat wave and the sweats you didn’t ask for. Quite, slow and mild, give me three or five months of 70s and 80s and I’ll be ready for spring. In this way we can also overwrite the season that actually offends in favor of a sequence of days and weeks and months of weather just like this. Who needs a winter anyhow?

Sometimes it’s easy to miss a subtle joy of spring, overlook an earnest day of summer, or the calm and thoughtful afternoon of fall for dreading what comes next. It’s a shortcoming; being aware of it doesn’t solve the problem. I guess one day I should find ways to enjoy the winter.

Thinking of it somehow just highlights the problem.

I mean, here I am, going on and on about that on a perfect mid-year day, the beginning of a beautiful September, which was hearkened forth by the beautiful end of August. A day which, just a bit ago, I was outside watering plants, covering the grill, and counting my blessings: health, a peaceful day, a delicious dinner, and so on. Everyone should have those things.

This was the view from the backyard, while the grill was going.

And while we had perfectly made steaks, we also enjoyed our own fresh-grown okra. Took all season, and we got one large meal out of the yield. Worth it.

Today, being the first day of the month, means cleaning the computer, updating some files, building new subdirectories, and so on. One of those little tasks is tracking the site data. August, for some reason, had the most visits in the 21 years of the website. I don’t know why people keep coming back, but I’m glad they do.

And also the bots, I suppose, but I appreciate the people more. So thanks for being here.

We had a bike ride with Miles, the neighbor, on Saturday. They dropped me near the end, but I took this shot 30-some miles.

Ours was a morning ride, which is unusual. Especially after the fact. There was a full day still to go. There are so many things to discover about early mornings. Rediscover, actually. I did morning drive for about a decade and, years later, I am still revolting against the notion of early alarms.

I went for a solo ride this evening, a much more normal time for a bike ride, if you ask me. And no wonder, look at these views. This is some farm land not far from the house. I wonder if they put in any okra this year.

I missed the perfect shot here as I pedaled along, but there is also a little cut out in the treeline, and I knew it was coming. So I framed up the sun. Not a bad composition for off-the-hip soft pedaling. Just staying upright and getting close to the photo you want is sometimes a thing. Putting the sun between those trees in the foreground and the trees in the background, simultaneously? That’s real talent.

Along that same road, the tree, the moon, the chip and seal.

And just over that hill is a beautiful old swayback Appaloosa, enjoying dinner.

You wonder if horses ever look at sunsets. You wonder what they think about when they do.

Classes start tomorrow. Guess I better figure out what I’m going to talk about, huh?