To Clap, or Not to Clap?

Wednesday night we attended one of a series of Classical concerts at the Sheldon.  This concert, entitled Moonlight, was part of a Beethoven series and featured two of the “Three Bs,” Beethoven and Brahms (Bach didn’t make an appearance).  The “Moonlight” in the concert title comes from the unofficial name of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-Sharp Minor Op. 27, No 2.  No wonder they call it the Moonlight Sonata.  You’ve heard this sonata, at least the first movement, whether you recognize the name or not.

We were there as the guests of Peggy and Steve Fuller, two of our neighbors.  Their children originally planned to attend but could no longer use the tickets, so Peggy and Steve very kindly invited us along.

I usually tell people most of my knowledge of classical music comes from Bugs Bunny cartoons (“Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit!”), but that’s not entirely true.  Bugs may have been my intro, but my elementary music teacher introduced me to Pier Gynt and made me appreciate that music could tell a story more complex than The Purple People Eater.  Then there was Quaker Oats using the 1812 Overture to sell oatmeal.  I wore out the 1812 and its “B” side, Beethoven’s Wellington’s Victory, before I got out of high school.  But my real exposure to classical music was from the movies: Fantasia, Kubrick’s 2001 and A Clockwork Orange, Apocalypse Now.  Woody Allen’s Love and Death introduced me to Prokofiev, though I loved Peter and the Wolf as a kid without knowing who wrote the music.  Poor Leah spent her first two years eating mashed asparagus and homemade yogurt to the strains of Prokofiev’s Russia Under the Mongolian Yoke and listening to me pick out the first few measures of Beethoven’s Für Elise over and over and over on our old out-of-tune upright piano.  She’s probably programmed by that music to do something like… eat mashed asparagus and yogurt whenever she watches Alexander Nevsky or Rosemary’s Baby.

I felt that my appreciation of classical music was wide but shallow, though.  I never got much beyond the 120 Classical Music Masterpieces pitched by John Williams (no, not that John Williams, the other John Williams) in TV’s longest running commercial.  Seeing a performance of something obscure (to me) like Beethoven’s Serenade in D Major for Flute, Violin and Viola, Op. 25 was on another level of musical sophistication altogether.  It was swimming in the deep end of classical music instead of splashing around in the “light music” kiddie pool.

There were four performers.  The two headliners were David Halen, Concertmaster (first violin) of the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Peter Henderson, a talented pianist who performs frequently with the Symphony.  Halen and Henderson played two sets together, Beethoven’s Spring Sonata and Brahms’ Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano in G Major, Op. 78.  Halen was joined by Mark Sparks on flute and Kathleen Mattis on viola for the Serenade in D Major for Flute, Violin and Viola, Op. 25, and Henderson played the Moonlight Sonata by himself.

There are no bad seats in the Sheldon, but our seats were superb.  We were only about 15 feet from the performers and were able to see every motion, especially the hands and face of the pianist.  Each piece consisted of three or more movements and we experienced for the second time the awkward phenomenon of the applause-between-movements conundrum.  The first time was when we went to see the Ahn Trio in February, which somehow I missed blogging about.  I had no idea this was even a controversy.  Here’s the short version:

No one is exactly sure how it got started, but since the early 20th century, classical music aficionados have been conditioned to remain silent between movements and to wait until the end of a piece to applaud.  Presumably everybody is impressed that they know the piece isn’t over until the end of the last movement.

Classical concert newbies invariably clap at the end of the first movement and feel like doofuses (doofi?) when no one else claps.  Depending on their level of embarrassment (some conductors have been known to turn around and wag their fingers at newbie clappers) they may never come back to a classical concert.  Way to go.  Humiliate the guy who just paid money to see you.

And the musicians are left to wonder if the audience is still there when they get to the end of a movement and can hear a pin drop.

It’s too bad something so simple is tangled up in such pretentiousness.  Yet, being no stranger to pretentiousness myself, there are times when applause seems more appropriate than others.  When a movement ends on a soft, lingering note, the rapt silence of the audience seems to enhance the transition to the next movement.  But when a movement ends on a thunderous, rousing note, it just seems silly to sit there in silence.

The three configurations of performers (violin/pianist, flautist/violin/viola, and solo pianist) all had their different charms.  When the violinist and pianist were playing together, the piano seemed to recede into the background and my attention was focused on the violin.  When the flute, violin, and viola were together as a trio, the flute seemed to be more prominent, with the violin a close second and the viola serving as a bridge and counterpoint between the two.  The trio seemed to be dancing from the ankles up; they would sway toward and away from each other in time to the music, but their feet were rooted to the floor. 

But the best part of the concert for me was Peter Henderson’s solo piano performance of the Moonlight Sonata.  The first movement was magical, and watching his facial expressions through all three movements was a joy.

It was an enjoyable night, indeed.  It made me realize I don’t want to live someplace where you can’t see a live performance of the Moonlight Sonata.

- Poppa

Free Verse and Free Books

I don’t get most poetry.  I get some, mostly the classics, the short ones anyway.  But long rambling dry-as-dust elegiac reflections in churchyards and modern free verse usually have me mentally wandering off before I get past the first few stanzas.

Lately, I’ve been reading poetry to Nan’s mother, Barbara, when we go to visit her at Parc Provence.  The shorter poems keep her attention; she laughs at some of the amusing ones and seems moved by some of the profound ones.  I’ve been reading from old English Lit textbooks dating mostly from my father’s high school days, so I haven’t read anything to her written since WWII.

Saturday night we went to the Official Grand Opening of our neighborhood Left Bank bookstore.  The featured evening event was a poetry reading.  It was interesting to try modern poetry again, much as I used to try liver every few years.  I eventually gave up on liver.

 My Persona de Event, Santa Garcia, ur-freak and retro-bohemian.

We heard a half-dozen Left Bank staffers read their poetry to warm the crowd up for the main event, a reading by D. A. Powell.  Powell is a famous published and award-winning poet I’d never heard of.  To be fair, most of the poets I’ve ever heard of are dead.

The staffers were a varied lot and I appreciate their willingness to share their innermost thoughts and feelings and admire the courage it took to bare their souls.  Only one staff reader ellicited an emotional response from me, a young woman reading erotic poetry.  It wasn’t the eroticism I responded to. Really!  (I think.)  It was the joy and passion she projected as she read her poems.  She could have been speaking in an unfamiliar language and she still would have succeeded in making her listeners react.

Powell’s reading was dramatic and memorable, though it represented the exact opposite approach.  He read in a very deliberate, quiet, and syncopated cadenced voice.  I can still hear it in my head days later.  The young woman’s style, and, particularly, Powell’s style, went a long way to confirm my belief that, in modern free verse, delivery is as important, sometimes more important, than content.

“I fear my mucus:  its endless volume and amorphous shape
a demon expelling from my lips.”

from [my riches I have squandered. spread with honey] by D. A. Powell

When you’re reading phrases like, “I fear my mucus,” your delivery had better evoke something in the audience other than snorts of derision.  Earlier in this poem, Powell uses exsiccated when he could have used desiccated.  Nine hundred and ninety-nine people out of a thousand are, like me, going to come to a screeching mental halt when they hear “exsiccated.”  He’s trying to be deliberately inaccessible.  And succeeding.  But you could hear a pin drop while he was reading.  When I re-read his poetry now, I hear his voice.

A lot (not all) of the free verse I heard Saturday night reminded me of wordwooze, colorful words and snippets of phrase strung together to produce what sounded like meaningless white noise.  The poems surely meant something profound to their authors, but if I, the listener/reader, don’t hear a message, or perceive an image, or experience an emotion without needing to have it explained, it comes across to me as wordwooze.

Powell demonstrated that you can make even wordwooze move an audience if your delivery is memorable.

If any of the Left Bank Poets read these words because they’ve followed Google here, pay no attention to the ramblings of a sometimes reactionary old man who’s trying to understand himself and his responses to art.  Follow your muse!

But work on your delivery!

Advance Uncorrected Proofs

And then we got to pillage a table of books.  These were advance reader copies Left Bank was giving away to its Friends (and Nan and I are Friends).  You got to fill up a canvas tote (also a gift) with anything you wanted from the table.  Most of the books were identified as “advance uncorrected proofs.”  Some didn’t have cover art yet, just statistics about the book on a Kinko’s-type binding.  One was bound from right-to-left, with page one being the last page of the book and page 253 being the first page.

We showed restraint and only half-filled the bag.

I read some discussion on the Internet concerning the value of these odd books with their errors and strange bindings.  People in the know take the position that, unless they are signed by the author, or stained by the author’s tears, they’re worth less than a regular copy because (duh) they contain errors.  People probably thought the same thing about the Inverted Jenny.  Now they’re worth $300,000 a pop.  Heh!

 Big fun.

- Poppa

Things to Do With Your Hat – Part 1, the Wearing of the Hat

Those who know me, know I’m a diehard galeaphile (hat lover). I’ve always mourned the death of hatwearing.  Up until the 1950s, for a man to go outside without a hat or head-cover of some sort was about as unlikely as him leaving home without pants.  A hat did more than keep the rain and bird crap off your head, it was a statement of style and character, even social class.

I was nine during the Civil War Centennial in 1961 and everyone was getting into the spirit.  The men grew beards and there were all sorts of commemorations and ceremonies.   I got my hands on a cheap replica of a Union kepi and wore it everywhere until I outgrew it.  Throughout much of the ’70s and ’80s I wore a black leather “Tevye” cap I found in Aspen in 1973.  And my old friends from The Atlanta Pipe Band are still carrying the emotional scars left by my unrelenting pith helmet campaign.

Shortly after we moved to St. Louis in 1999, and what with needing to deal with those Midwestern winters again, I purchased a winter hat at a local outdoor recreation store called The Alpine Shop.  The hat met all my criteria; unusual, stylish, black (but with colorful accents), covered the ears, soft, and non-scratchy.  I was happy with both its appearance and feel.  It never entered my mind that there was any question about how it should be worn.

I wear it with the flap toward the back and the brightly-colored vertical panel centered on the forehead (as in the left-hand picture below).  Since I purchased it, I’ve seen two others, and in both instances they were worn with the flap to the front (as in the picture below on the right).

At first glance, it doesn’t appear to matter any more than someone wearing their baseball cap backwards.

But when the wind begins to blow and the ears get cold, the method on the left (mine) has obvious advantages.

a). the ears are covered, and,
b). the likelihood of walking into trees is reduced.

I don’t know who those guys think they are, walking around with their hats on backwards.  I’m going to continue to wear mine as I have been until someone in authoritah informs me that form is required to triumph over function.

- Poppa

Election Day 2008 – One for the History Books

Heard while waiting at the polls:

“They’re going to be beating up the homeless people today!”  (woman on cell phone)

WTF?  Was she expecting Rove and Cheney to beat up homeless people?

“It’s all a game, they already know who won, the one with the most money wins, but somebody’s going to throw some salt in the game.” (the guy behind us in line)

Repeated about 20 times and directed at no one in particular.  Grrrr…

“Everybody whose name starts with S or Z, come with me.”  (poll worker without a clue about Queue Management)

He would come out of the polling place, walk down the line saying “Everybody whose name starts with S or Z, come with me” and escort six or seven people inside.  When I asked him if he meant “S through Z” he just repeated, “Everybody whose name starts with S or Z, come with me.”  We were almost to the door before those inside finally told him it was “S through Z.”  Consequently, for the first hour and a half, everybody with a last name starting with S or Z got to vote before anybody whose last name started with T through Y.

Bonehead.

Still, shaping up to be a glorious day!

Poppa

The State of the Blogosphere

Who we are and why we do this.

My favorite reason (and a new Category), is “to bake half-baked ideas.”

Poppa

Changing My Mind Part 2 -The Death Penalty: A Good Idea in Theory, but Difficult to Execute

Back when I was young and knew everything, I didn’t need to think about the death penalty much.  It was in place, no one I knew thought it was controversial, or if they did, they didn’t say so out loud, and the US Justice System was fair and impartial (as evidenced by hundreds of movies and TV shows I watched as a kid).

I became aware of the controversies swirling around the death penalty as I grew older, but I had no philosophical objection to it.  Given the number and nature of the offenses calling for the death penalty in the first five books of the Old Testament, the Three Commandments * didn’t seem to prohibit it, either.  Of course we should only apply the death penalty where it was really, really justified.  Sure, there had been abuses and failures to apply it fairly, but those were exceptions, not the rule.

And then I was called for jury duty.

I’ve been called for jury duty three times and impaneled twice, both times for trials concerning minor altercations.  Seeing the process first-hand, even as applied to these minor matters, has made me blanch at the thought of making someone’s life depend on the less than perfect workings of the system.

I still have no philosophical objection to the death penalty.  Opponents of the death penalty claim it’s not an effective deterrent, and that too many people are sentenced to death unfairly.  They’re wrong about the deterrent factor.  Even a criminal sentenced to life in prison without parole can kill again; a prison employee, another prisoner, or a visitor.  A criminal put to death will never hurt anyone ever again.

However, they’re right about the fairness factor.  The US Justice System is fine as an ideal, but is administered by fallible humans.  The system needs to be able to correct its inevitable mistakes.  There’s no correcting a mistaken execution

If I were King of the World and did a little brainstorming with folks who knew the law, I might be able to come up with a system I could trust to put someone to death.  Until then, the only death penalty I can support is the one applied during the commission of a crime, the penalty known as justifiable homicide.

- Poppa

* The other Seven Commandments have been decriminalized and downgraded to Optional, Good Advice, and Opinion.

Getting Out of Mom’s Basement for the Weekend: $60

Starfleet Uniform: $150
Vulcan Ears: $35
Learning How to Survive the Zombocalypse: Priceless

 - From a Zombie Squad Recruiting Poster (“We make dead things deader.”) at Archon 32.

Someday I may pontificate on the subject of going to Science Fiction conventions; people passed out in the lobby chairs in the morning, Alvin and the Chipmunks singing the Time Warp, people puking in the shrubbery, panel discussions where almost everyone gets the in-jokes, Fans vs. “Mundanes” and how social awkwardness is transformed into exuberance.

I can’t think of anyplace else where people’s affection for each other is demonstrated so joyously and with such abandon.  But for now, I’ll just link to the photos I took there and leave you with a few pithy T-shirt slogans seen at the con.

“If you’re a Goth, where were you when we sacked Rome?”

and

“Chainsaw beats rock-paper-scissors.”

- Poppa

Changing My Mind, Part 1 – Religion: Mitigated or Unmitigated Evil?

It’s no great challenge to enumerate the evils committed in the name of religion.  Anyone with the slightest knowledge of history or current events can think of plenty of examples by themselves.  So lets move on.  Is there anything to mitigate the evil of religion?

Back when I was young and knew everything, I knew religion served no useful purpose. Potlucks and acts of charity were nice, but Rotary and Kiwanis could provide those and were, so far, crusade and jihad free.  I also knew only ignorant and thoughtless people clung to religion.  These were people who spent no time thinking about important stuff and big issues, who were religious only because their parents were.  I had to reconsider my position when I started to realize many religious people were far smarter, better educated, and more insightful than I’d ever be.

Still, it took me years to appreciate the beyond-potluck-and-charity positive side of religion.

Humans want structure.  We see patterns everywhere, in clouds and ink stains, in random occurrences.  Religion supplies the structure and meaning we want so badly and allows us to put our experiences and ourselves in a frame of reference.  Religion makes us feel like we matter and have a place in a world growing larger and more complex every year.  Religion gives us the means to control the uncontrollable and endure the unendurable.  Religion allows us to cope with and accept things that don’t seem to have a reason; the death of a loved one, an incurable disease, a train wreck, a killer storm, the slaughter of an innocent, a war.  It’s all free, free in the sense you don’t have to pay money for it unless you want to.  It’s portable and secure.  You can take it anywhere but no one can take it from you.

Powerful stuff.  No wonder religion is still going strong.

But there’s still that pesky evil…

- Poppa

What have you changed your mind about? Why?

The Edge Annual Question — 2008

From About Edge at edge.org

“The mandate of Edge Foundation is to promote inquiry into and discussion of intellectual, philosophical, artistic, and literary issues, as well as to work for the intellectual and social achievement of society.”

Every year, the Edge Foundation asks its members a question.  This year, the question was, “What have you changed your mind about? Why?”  The responses are an interesting read.  (They start about halfway down the index page.)  There are 166 contributors, so reading them all is not a task you should undertake lightly, but you can skim the subject headings and pass on those that look obscure, such as

“I have changed my mind about cortical neurons and now think that they are far more capable than we ever imagined.” by Terrence Sejnowski, Computational Neuroscientist, Salk Institute, Coauthor, The Computational Brain

and just read those that pique your interest, such as

“Much of what I believed about human nature, and the nature of knowledge, has been upended by the Wikipedia.” by Kevin Kelly, Editor-At-Large, Wired; Author, New Rules for the New Economy

or

“Good Old Stuff Sucks” by Stewart Brand, Founder, Whole Earth Catalog, cofounder; The Well; cofounder, Global Business Network; Author, How Buildings Learn

So I’ve been thinking about this and have come up with two examples of my own.

Religion: Mitigated or Unmitigated Evil?

… and …

The Death Penalty: A Good Idea in Theory, but Difficult to Execute

More later.  Unless I change my mind again.

Oh, and I didn’t used to like oysters, until I discovered Oysters Bienville.

– Poppa

Erin’s Quiz (with Cat)

Saw this quiz on benjerin’s blog, thought it looked like fun, you know the rest …
 

1)  How do you like your grilled cheese?
Cover outside of two slices of bread with real butter, load up with good cheese (cheddar, Muenster, jack, Port Salut), add an ounce or two of thin-sliced turkey, then grill until golden brown. Top with dill pickle.

Or any grilled cheese made by someone else.

2)  Where did you go on your last vacation?
Our last long weekend was spent in DC with Leah and Ben’s Chili Bowl.  Our last big vacation was to Scandinavia.

3)  Who are your godparents?
I used to know, but I think I’m old enough that the question is moot.

4)  Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Sitting in a comfy chair and surfing/reading/watching TV.

5)  Where are you at noon everyday?
Sitting in a comfy chair and surfing/reading/watching TV/working.

6)  How many speeding tickets have you gotten?
Two, both were fair cops.

7)  What is your favorite movie?
Can’t choose one:  Zulu, Zulu Dawn, Alien, Aliens, Day of the Jackal, A Christmas Story

8)  What do you think of the I-phone?
Love it.  When Boeing stops paying for my BlackBerry, I’ll get one (unless something better comes along AND we can afford it).

9)  What do you think of winter?
Love it.

10)  Do you use a plan book?
Used to.  I never found a device that could equal my old Palm Pilot.  Before that, my Franklin Planner went everywhere with me.

11)  At what age do you plan on having kids?
I’d have to step into a time machine to answer this.

12)  When was the last time you swam?
Actually swam as opposed to get wet?  Um, the Eighties?

13)  What do you order at Subway?
A 12 inch Turkey on White with Bacon, Mayonnaise, Deli Brown Mustard, Olive Oil, Vinegar, Provolone Cheese, Lettuce, Black Olives, Onions, Pickles, Tomato, and the secret herbs & salt they sprinkle on at the end.

14)  Do you keep your closets organized?
Closets are where I hide my piles of stuff.

15)  How do you make headaches go away?
Excedrin.

16)  Have you owned a beta fish before? What was his name?
Yes, don’t remember if he had one.

17)  If you moved out of state where would you go?
Mexico, New Mexico, or Sweden.

18)  Did you attend pre-school?
No, I barely attended school at all.

19)  What do your shower curtains look like?
We don’t have any.

20)  Did you have an imaginary friend as a child?
No.

21)  How do you make eggs?
Omelets.  Or fried, over medium with potatoes and sausage.  Or lightly mixed and fried for an egg and cheese sandwich.

22)  Where do you wash your clothes?
At home.

23)  Which parent do you look most like?
I’ve been told I look like my dad.

24)  Who are the neighbors who live to the right of you?
If I’m facing north, it’s Al Faber.

25)  What are your thoughts on Tom Cruise?
Word association?  Scientology.

26)  What is the next vehicle you wish to buy?
Some days a Hummer, some days a Mini Cooper.  (You did say wish, right?)

27)  Do you pay bills online or by mail?
Nan pays the bills any way she wants to.

28)  What would be the best gift someone could get you right now?
Fresh sweet corn and vine ripened tomatoes.

29)  What is something stressful you will deal with next week?
Dealing with converting one of my applications to WSSO (Web Single Sign On).

30)  What is something in your home that you collect?
Books, DVDs, military hats.

31)  What did you do last night?
We met Joe (Nan’s brother) for steak at Tuckers and then closed down Left Bank book store.

32)  Who did you last see?
Besides Nan?  Joe.

33)  How do you take your coffee?
Some sort of cow juice and Splenda.

34)  What is the oldest thing in your fridge?
Black bean sauce.  Or pickle relish.

35)  On your keyboard, what key is wearing out from pressing it so much?
No keys are wearing out.  Some are less dusty than others.

36)  Where do you put your keys when you come home?
My keys reside in my fanny pack.  My fanny pack hangs from my dumbbell rack.  My dumbbell rack sits in the library.

37)  Where do you go for Thanksgiving?
Anywhere there’s family.

38)  How old will you be in 2010?
58.

39)  What actor/actress would play you in a movie?
Brian Blessed (he’d need to tone it down a bit, though).

40)  How much cash is in your wallet?
This morning $1.  Right now $200.

41)  What color is your house?
Brick red (literally).

42)  If you were starving to death would you eat a pet?
Probably, especially if it was somebody else’s pet.

43)  Ever been to Alabama?
Too many times to count.

44)  What kind of accent do you have?
None.  I was born in Iowa, where the world’s only pure form of English is spoken.

45)  What kind of alcoholic drinks are in your fridge right now?
Beer and wine.

– Poppa