Mentors

Within the space of of a month, we have lost two great mentors of jazz. Hal Malcolm and John "Coach" Moawad were pioneers of vocal jazz education. Beyond that influence, they touched thousands of lives with their passion, humor and loving care. They were more than great musicians and teachers. They were great motivators of people.

For me personally they were mentors and friends. They reached out to me and gave me many opportunities and challenges to foster my growth as a musician and as a human being. I am a better person for them having been a part of my life and this is a better world for the great legacy they have left behind.

Rest in Peace.

Christmas in the Tropics

This is not my first Christmas in a place where a "White Christmas" would be impossible (rather than just unlikely), and the whole experience altered by climate and culture. I remember some creative attempts at Christmas trees as a kid, including one year using the branch of a mango tree. The one family tradition that I remember with fondness, but never have seen elsewhere or attempted to replicate as an adult, was the home-made banner decorations using white tissue paper as the banner and cut stars in red and green foil.

This Christmas will be one of the most unusual. Although all my friends have left town and my family is celebrating on the opposite side of the world, I am sharing it with one of my favorite dogs and she always has her own way of adding color to events. For Christmas Eve, I'll be eating an Italian Christmas meal and joining in with hundreds of others in the Christmas Eve Midnight Carol Service at St. George's Cathedral. Then I'll have a Christmas breakfast and probably a seafood brunch on the beach.

I'm looking forward to experiencing a different kind of magical event which Christmas always seems to bring. Merry Christmas to all, and as Tiny Tim would say. "God bless us, everyone!"

Chennai update

Five months in Chennai and I’m finally catching up. I think I would have been better about updating if I was here for a short visit, but I live here and it doesn’t feel extraordinary most of the time. Of course, there are times when I step back and realize that I’m in an exotic country and I can marvel.

It’s an amazing feeling living in a place and actually doing the “tourist thing.” I’ve found that in most places I’ve lived, I’ve only visited the high spots to show visitors from out of town how cool it is. This time around I am striving to be an unabashed tourist.

For instance, I visited this beautiful church on a Saturday morning and realized that they were setting up for a wedding. I just went on snapping pictures left and right, “oblivious” to the fact—American tourist at his best. In fairness, they were at a very early stage of preparations and I wasn’t in the way.

St. Andrews Kirk is a “youngish” church, (about 1821). It’s loosely based on St. Martin-in-the-Fields (Trafalgar Square, London).

I also have the luxury to go back if I miss something. I’ve been to Mammalapuram three times so far, and I have plans to go back. The second time I went, I barely had time to see the sights. We settled into a beachside restaurant for a brunch that lasted for several hours—seafood, great conversation and a great view. I ended up skipping most of the photographs I wanted to take that day and went back another time. There are some other destinations that I will re-visit with friends, as that tends to color your experience.

The 7th Century Shore Temple at Mammalapuram, as viewed from Bob Marley's beachside restaurant.

Perhaps the best plan will be to abandon chronology and share experiences of different places and events in my time here so far.

Happy updating!

Currently reading …

Well, it's not exactly current, since I finished the book a while ago but I haven't shared it with y'all yet so here goes:

So the Dean tried first this and then that and nothing would seem to suit. First of all he wrote:

“It is now forty years since I came among you, a youth full of life and hope and ardent in the work before men–” Then he paused, doubtful of the accuracy and clearness of the expression, read it over again and again in deep thought and then began again:

“It is now forty years since I came among you, a broken and melancholy boy, without life or hope, desiring only to devote to the service of this parish such few years as might remain of an existence blighted before it had truly begun–” And then again the Dean stopped, He read what he had written; he frowned; he crossed it through with his pen. This was no way to write, this thin egotistical strain of complaint. Once more he started:

“It is now forty years since I came among you, a man already tempered and trained, except possibly in mathematics–” And then again the rector paused … And the rector mused so long that when he began again it seemed to him that it was simpler and better to discard the personal note altogether, and he wrote:

“There are times, gentlemen, in the life of a parish, when it comes to an epoch which brings it to a moment when it reaches a point–”

The Dean stuck fast again, but refusing this time to be beaten went resolutely on:

“–reaches a point where the circumstances of the moment make the epoch such as to focus the life of the parish in that time.”

Then the Dean saw that he was beaten, and he knew that he not only couldn’t manage the parish but couldn’t say so in proper English, and of the two the last was the bitterer discovery.

Stephen Leacock
Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town

I’m not quite sure how I reached this stage of my life without hearing of the “Mark Twain of Canada,” but I have, (until now). I found three books of Leacock to bring with me on this trip, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the wit and humor of the man. He is a must read!

Noticing favorite words...

Aashish: “Fantastic!”
Shannon: “Absurd!”

I'm not sure what my characteristic word or phrase would be. I used to say “and stuff” a lot, but I don't think I do that anymore. It's probably easier for someone else to detect.

In the ground in Chennai

After not sleeping for about 40 hours, I made the adjustment to local time. After a couple of days of feeling tired at odd times, I have felt remarkably normal, (in terms of jet lag). For the past 10 days or so, I've felt like I live here. The "in the ground" reference was a misprint from my facebook status. I was never quite that low. I'm glad Mom doesn't read facebook, or she might have drawn the wrong conclusion.

Chennai, my home for the next 7 months, is a city of contrasts. There are trees everywhere, and there are times when I don't feel that I'm in a city of 7 million people. From my balcony, I look out over rooftops with washing hung out to dry, palm trees and a flame of the forest tree in full bloom. I share my balcony with the crows--Indian crows have a grey head--and some pigeons. There are birds that I haven't seen but can hear, including one that sounds like a car alarm.



The neighborhood is very quiet. One of my neighbors, a half block down, is an important government minister named Stalin (no relation to the Russian dictator). There are barricades to close the road, and armed police in front of the building and the ends of the block, but so far I haven't seen much activity. Some friends live in another neighborhood nearby where Stalin's father lives, (the most important government minister in Tamil Nadu--there are giant posters of father and son smiling benevolently at everyone). I went over to my friend's house the other night (to barbecue pizza on the rooftop patio--barbecued pizza with dough and other fixin's from scratch--awesome), and they had barricades everywhere.

One advantage of sharing the neighborhood with the second most important man in Tamil Nadu is that power cuts on my block will be rare. We actually had one the other night for a short time, and although the fans and lights continued on the battery backup, the air conditioners shut down. In arriving at this time of year, I missed the worse of the hot weather so lack of air conditioning is not fatal. With the balcony doors and windows open, we get a nice breeze, although I have been using the air conditioner in my room at night. When the rains come and mosquitoes arise in their trillions, I'll have to keep the balcony doors closed and use the main air conditioning more. The cook-stove is gas, so we can always cook in case of a power cut. I am going to look into getting some kind of screen doors for the balconies--all the windows are already screened.

The apartment is within easy walking distance of a grocery store, an amazing bakery, and several good restaurants. The Thai place is pretty good and the Korean place is heaven descended to earth--I'll be a regular there for sure.

Traffic here is reminiscent of Bangkok. Lanes are optional--horns are obligatory. I have my own car and driver which simplifies things greatly. Rama is a very good driver, and I feel safe. He also knows the city and knows how to get things done.

"Rama. The lock to the small balcony is broken." "Yes sir. I will fix." The same afternoon and 100 rupees poorer (about US$ 2), the lock has been taken care of.

Raju comes in 6 days a week to clean and iron. 3 days he also stays to cook. He cooks enough for 3 to 4 people, and most of the time I've had people here to help eat it, but if not I'll have great leftovers. The drawback is that Raju doesn't speak English and he also doesn't speak Tamil, so I can't even have Rama translate. We've done OK with gestures, and he does have a few English words like "shopping", "iron" and "tomorrow". He actually splits his time between here and Will's apartment in another neighborhood. Will's company has a couple of people who speak Hindi and can communicate with Raju, so if I have something complicated to share with Raju, I e-mail them and they let him know.

Anthony, who I am replacing, has been here for a year and has done all the ground work for me to have an amazing life here. He is introducing me to the area, the best restaurants and to the large network of expats from all over the world living here. I am not the social butterfly that Anthony is, but it's nice to be part of a community and I'll be fairly involved.

The first weekend I was here we went to Ideal Beach south of Chennai near Mammalapuram. It's interesting to get out of the city into the countryside. The beach is your basic tropical paradise. Relaxing on the beach in a hammock--not bad.

I have been really active in my first two weeks here, so much so that I have been dilatory in getting this new phase of the blog underway. I've been to two movies, (I can't remember the last movie I went to in the States), several dinner parties and many great restaurants. I have toured the ruins at Mammalapuram, travelled to Vellore and many other things.

More later. Cheerio, Alan

Thai Coconut Milk Curry (stew style)

Several have asked for the basic recipe, so here it is. I don't follow this precisely any more, but if you do you should have good results. The key is the slow adding of coconut milk, and the gradual richening (if that is a word) of the flavors.

Stew Style Thai Curry

(Serves 6)

Ingredients:

• (Optional) Fresh or dried Kaffir lime leaves: 2 or 3 [Finely minced]
  
• Yellow, Matsaman, or Panang curry paste (Mah Ploy brand preferred): 1 TBS.
  
• Nam Blah (Thai fish sauce): 2 to 4 TBS.
  
• Sugar: 1 TBS.
  
• Water: ¼ to ½ cup
  
• Peanut butter: ⅛ to ¼ cup
  
• Coconut cream: 2 cans (Approx. 3 cups)
  
• Chicken or beef: 1 lb. [Cubed]
  
• Potatoes: 2 or 3 medium size [Cubed]
  
• Unsalted roasted peanuts: Garnish to taste

Preparation:

1. (With dried Kaffir lime leaves, reconstitute in warm water until soft, approx. 1 hour).
   Remove stems from Kaffir lime leaves and finely mince.
   
2. Dissolve curry paste in Nam Blah. Add minced lime leaves, sugar, water and peanut butter, and mix until smooth. Add additional water as needed to thin the mixture. Set aside.
   
3. Pre-heat ½ cup of coconut cream in saucepan. Add meat and boil until the meat is cooked through. If the mixture becomes too dry, add water. Set aside.
   
4. In large saucepan of water, boil cubed potatoes until fully cooked, drain water and set aside.
   
5. Heat 2½ cups of coconut cream in a saucepan until it reaches boiling point and set aside.
   
6. Heat a large wok or stockpot, add ½ cup pre-heatened coconut cream. Stir constantly over moderate high heat until it thickens, forms large bubbles, and begins to spatter.
   
7. Add liquid curry paste mixture and heat until mixture is fragrant and thick. Add pre-heatened coconut cream ¼ cup at a time, waiting each time until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble. Take your time on this step.
   
8. When all the coconut cream has been added, add meat and potatoes, combine thoroughly and simmer for 5 minutes.
9. Serve with Thai Jasmine rice, and garnish with peanuts to taste.
   

Updated: 9-23-00

Fortinbras

‘Fortinbras, where are my golf clubs?’

‘Respectfully, Sir, you don't play golf.’

‘That is irreverent…er…irrelevant to the case. The question remains as to the whereabouts of my golf clubs.’

‘The precise location may be somewhat difficult to define, but I would conjecture that they are somewhere in the vicinity of the fourth fairway, approximately between the sand-trap and the water hazard.’

‘Confound it! What are you saying?’

‘The vicar stopped by to see you this morning while you were slee…er…studying in the library. I took the liberty of acceding to his request for donations to the annual parish jumble sale.’

‘You gave away my golf clubs!’

‘As you have so cunningly deduced, I have donated your golf clubs to charity, to benefit the poor in our community.’

‘I don't see what good my set of clubs will do for some starving family. For one thing, the committee would never allow them membership in the golf club.’

‘Yes, Sir, that is true, but sometimes Good follows a more circuitous route.’

**********

‘Goodness me! What on earth was that?’

‘The Hand of Divine Providence, Sir.’

‘The hand of divine providence, my foot! Some blathering idiot has foozled their drive off the fifth tee.’

‘Yes, Sir. That would appear to be the case. Would you like me to ring up MacDonald to repair the damage?’

‘MacDonald?…MacDonald?…Hmm…I don't remember a MacDonald.’

‘No, Sir. He is new in the village. He has been unable to find work, and his wife is expecting their third child. I thought that he might be available.’

‘Yes, yes…I suppose that would be all right. Well, I am going upstairs to write some letters. On no account am I to be disturbed.’

‘Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir.’

**********

‘MacDonald? This is Fortinbras, up at the manor. I have a job for you…Yes, right away. Good day!’

**********

‘Good afternoon Vicar. What can I do for you?’

‘I'm terribly sorry. An unexpected gust of wind appears to have caught my ball and precipitated it through the roof of your greenhouse. I hope that no-one was hurt.’

‘Happily, Sir, we are uninjured. I see that you are golfing again. If I may be so bold as to ask…Where did you eventually locate your golf clubs?’

‘I haven't found them yet. I have searched everywhere, but my wife is a cleverer woman than I. She seems to have this fixation in her head that the inexplicable accidents, which occur from time to time on the golf course, are a result of incompetence on my part. Extraordinary idea, but there you have it.’

‘Yes, Sir. Terribly vexing for you, I'm sure.’

‘Actually, these are the Colonel's clubs, which he so generously donated to the parish jumble sale. I just thought that I would take them through their paces, before offering them for sale on the auction block. I should deeply regret if anyone purchased them, in good faith, and found them lacking somehow in quality.’

‘An admirable idea, and one which reinforces the high regard that the English people have for their clergy.’

‘Yes…well, I thought that I would look in. I hope that it will be all right…about the roof, I mean.’

‘Don't let it cause you any concern. The situation is well in hand. Have a good day Sir, and God bless you.’

Perspective

In the recent snows, which were unusually persistent for our normally moderate climate, I had an interesting reaction, especially compared to those around me. I found myself walking home in the winter wonderland and breaking out into uncontrollable laughter at intervals all the way home. Most of the comments I have heard from others have been more Grinch-like.

Now I am not typically the one expressing delight in the face of gloom. On the continuum from Eeyore to Pollyanna, I lean moderately towards the Eeyore side. I am not a pessimist, but I'm usually aware of the footsteps of impending doom. In any case, as someone eloquently expressed it, a pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist. This made my reaction puzzling until I factored in perspective.

I used to live out in the county with the coyotes and other furry woodland creatures. I lived in a house—I want to make that clear. I didn't want to imply that I was Grizzly Adams, eating squirrels and such-like, although I did have to contend with a woodpecker who kept on trying to eat the house, (immediately outside my bedroom window in the wee hours). With a 45 minute commute (in good weather) and some formidable hills, snow was considered with much trepidation. There were times that I couldn’t make it down off the hill and there was one time that I had to crash at a friend’s house in town when freezing rain made the roads impossibly impassable. I crashed to avoid a crash—cue ironic music.

Not having to drive made all the difference. I currently live within easy walking distance of work, and even though exercise is bad for you I can walk in a pinch. While driving, I can actually negotiate snowy roads with some confidence, as long as I didn’t have to share the road with people who don’t believe in the laws of physics. I remember a particularly harrowing journey from Portland to Seattle when severe winter weather converted the journey into an epic 12 hour trek. There was a stretch of road near Olympia where freezing rain had turned the roadway into a skating rink. As I crept cautiously along at 10 miles an hour, I was constantly passed by brain dead S.U.V. drivers doing 50, apparently blissfully unaware of the vehicles (one every few hundred yards) who had ended in the ditch. At a rough guess, some 90 to 95% of the wrecks were S.U.V.s.

I’m not even that stressed when someone else is doing the driving. When I was young, living in a country where traffic is always an adventure, I always wanted to sit in the front seat of the bus. I never understood why my Mom wanted to sit further back. I think her philosophy was that if we were going to die, she would just as soon not have that much warning. When our driver was racing alongside another bus, on a narrow two-lane road (over hills and around blind corners), sending motorcycles and bicycles into the ditch in desperate fits of self-preservation, all I felt was mild interest and surprise. I’m not saying I would have the same indifference today, older and hopefully wiser, but I would still be less concerned then if I was doing the driving myself. Perspective is everything.

Random thought

I was watching the DVD of Prince Caspian and wondering how my friend (who doesn't deal well with mice) handled Reepicheep, or for that matter Stuart Little, or even Ratty in The Wind in the Willows. Kinda makes you go "hmmm."

… thinking of Nat King Cole

I realized that some of my favorite musicians are singer/piano players; players like Jamie Cullum, Louis Rose and Diana Krall (to name just a few). There are even singers who typically didn't perform in that format, but they were competent players. Carmen McRae was no slouch as a piano player and I love the part of the set when she would sit down at the keyboard and accompany herself.

I suppose part of my interest is that I aspire (in my own way) to be one of those rare entities. The other cool thing is that you can have a musical conversation with yourself. The only closer musical collaboration would be with a sibling. The brother/sister groups out there succeed partly on that level.

It's technically a tricky thing. When I play piano or drums and sing, (or sing and play piano or drums), the multi-tasking gets pretty intense and part of what I do must be semi-automatic. The mechanics have to be really solid or something goes out the door. When I'm doing that in a group, there is another level of awareness that needs to be there so I communicate with the other players as well. At the highest level though, when things are really locking together, I forget about the mechanics of playing and singing and reach deep into the emotion and heart of what I'm doing.

Nat King Cole is really the model. His popularity as a singer has overshadowed the fact that he was a fantastic piano player! I have a very limited sampling of his recordings. I need to make some investments in that area—just doing my part to enhance the economic stimulus.

Currently listening to ...

Ray Sings, Basie Swings
Ray Charles with the Count Basie Orchestra

Oh what a Beautiful morning indeed. Since we moved into the current office (with carpeting underfoot) I have rarely annoyed my neighbors by grooving too hard to the music. A couple of office moves ago with wood floors, I'd frequently get instant messages from Eric, "You're doing it again!" With headphones on, I hadn't been aware of how much I was getting into the music. A great album when everything else is falling about your ears, (and every other time). If you object to joyful, swinging music then by all means avoid this album!

Sheba

I wanted to introduce you to my buddy, Sheba. She is a gentle soul and is a recent addition to the household of some dear friends, who because they live in a city at some distance are not graced with my presence as often as either of us would like. I want to visit them as well! Honest. She's still a puppy—well more like a teenager, full of energy and mis-placed enthusiasm. This is one her quieter moments.

Currently reading…

' "Kindness," said Erica, to her father's head groom, "have you anything laid by?"

Kindness paused in his checking the corn account, shot her a pale glance from a wrinkled old eye, and went on with his adding. "Tuppence!" he said at length, in the tone one uses instead of a spit. This referred to the account, and Erica waited. Kindness hated accounts. "Enough to bury me decent," he said, having reached the top of the column again.

"You don't want to be buried yet a while. Could you lend me ten pounds, do you think?"

The old man paused in licking the stub of his pencil, so that the lead made a purple stain on the exposed tip of his tongue. "So that's the way it is!" he said. "What have you been doing now?"

"I haven't been doing anything. But there are some things I might want to do. And petrol is a dreadful price." The mention of petrol was a bad break.

"Oh, the car is it?" he said jealously. Kindness hated Tinny. "If it's the car you want it for, why don't you ask Hart?"

"Oh, I couldn't." Erica was almost shocked. "Hart is quite new." Hart being a newcomer with only eleven year's service. Kindness looked mollified. "It isn't anything shady," she assured him. "I would have got it from Father at dinner tonight; the money, I mean; but he has gone to Uncle William's for the night. And women are so inquisitive," she added after a pause. This, which could only refer to Nannie, made up the ground she had lost over the petrol. Kindness hated Nannie.

"Ten pounds is a big bit out of my coffin," he said with a sideways jerk of his head.

"You won't need it before Saturday.…"

"And what made you come to Kindness?"

There was complacence in the tone, and anyone but Erica would have said: Because you are my oldest friend, because you have always helped me out of difficulties since I was three years old and first put my legs astride a pony, because you can keep my counsel, and because in spite of your cantankerousness you are an old darling. But Erica said, "I just thought how much handier tea-caddies were than banks."

"What's that!"

"Oh, perhaps I shouldn't have said that. Your wife told me about that, one day when I was having tea with her. It wasn't her fault really. I saw the notes peering through the tea. A bit germy, I thought. For the tea, I mean. But an awfully good idea." As Kindness was still speechless. "Boiling water kills most things, anyhow. Besides," she said, bringing up for support what she should have used for attack, "who else could I go to?" '

Josephine Tey
A Shilling for Candles

The book is another of Tey's non-typical mysteries and Erica is one of my favorite characters in all of literature. She's so richly drawn that I almost feel that I know her from somewhere. Great stuff.

Currently listening to…

Live: An Evening with the Mel Brown Quartet
Tony Pacini —Piano
Dan Balmer—Guitar
Ed Bennett—Bass
Mel Brown—Drums

This is a quartet that communicates well. I really enjoy the combination of standards and originals that work like standards. Tony has really matured as a player. He always had chops, but is beginning to understand the art of under-statement. Dan Balmer has always been one of my favorite players from his time with Tom Grant and stints as leader and side-man. Ed and Mel are solid as always.

On a side-note: One of the great thrills of my musical career was trading fours with the great Mel Brown. That was something I'll never forget.

Connectivity

I joined Facebook on Wednesday morning so I could view a friend's photo album. Since then I've been connecting with old friends at a break-neck pace. I feel I haven't even scratched the surface. Every time I scan through a friend's list of friends I see faces that I remember, and the flood-gates of memory open up.

I remember the conclusion of a night of high stakes pinochle when we discovered that Nathan had parked his car in the middle of a frozen puddle. After 20 minutes of pushing, Brian and I were about ready to give up on him and make him walk home (even if he froze to death on the way—what on earth was he thinking when he parked there?) when Nathan said cheerfully, "Hey dudes, maybe I should take the parking brake off."

Then there was the time that Krista and I hijacked Jane's stuffed animal and left a ransom note with the following message: "We have your whale and you’re not getting it back! Leave $1,000,000,000 dollars in unmarked bills in a suitcase in the bandstand in Central Park, (take a left by the ducks), and don’t look back. Don’t contact the police. We are too clever to be caught...so don’t even try...Yours sincerely, Alan and Krista"

In this process of discovery, I have made two major realizations:

1. I am so blessed to have had wonderful friends in every chapter of my life.
2. My mistake has been to close the previous chapters of my life too readily.

I have always enjoyed new challenges and new horizons. I just need to savour more richly the friendships that I have in each chapter and keep them alive until the last chapter (and have them correctly indexed in the appendix).

3:42

Trying to find that stillness
In the watches of the night,
The light evades; there is no peace.
Some things can't be found by searching,
They can only be found by waiting.
Be still and know.
Be still.

Advent is past (or is it?). Lent is almost upon us, but I'm still waiting for Advent. And as Inigo Montoya says, "I hate waiting."

Public health announcement

" 'Hullo, Clarence,' said Gally. 'How are you feeling now? I've been thinking about that cold of yours, and I'll tell you the stuff to give it. You want to take a deep breath and hold it as long as you possibly can. This traps the germs in your interior, and not being able to get fresh air, they suffocate. When you finally exhale, the little sons of guns come out as dead as doornails and all you have to do is buy a black tie and attend the funeral. But what profits it to get rid of germs,' he went on, a grave note creeping into his voice, 'when at any moment you are going to have a super-bacillus like Connie at your throat?'

'Eh?'

'That's what I came to tell you. I think you will be receiving a visit from Connie shortly.'

'Oh, dash it!'

' I know just how you feel.'

'She's back then?'

'With her hair in a braid. And they tell me she is considerably hotted up. I haven't seen her myself, but Beach, who had an extended interview with her, describes her as resembling a gorilla roaring and beating its chest and preparing to rip the stuffing out of the citizenry.' "

Pigs Have Wings
P.G. Wodehouse

So I had one of those short-lived bugs that comes on quick and departs just as fast. I felt miserable for 24 hours or so, but after a couple of days of gradual improvement I'm doing fine, (at least as fine as is possible under the circumstances). I still have the occasional sneeze of monumental proportions, but that is nothing to go by. That's really an inherited trait. My father could stop milk production in neighboring counties when he sneezed. Cows would just stop in their tracks at the sound of distant thunder and refuse to move until the storm had passed.

Currently reading…

"'Income tax!' cried Lord Emsworth, staring like a war horse at the sound of the bugle. Pigs and income tax were the only two subjects that really stirred him. 'Let me tell you—'

'I haven't time to listen,' said Lady Constance, and swept from the room. These chats with the head of the family nearly always ended in her sweeping from the room. Unless, of course, they took place out of doors, when she merely swept away.

Left alone, Lord Emsworth sat for a while savouring that delicious sense of peace which comes to men of quiet tastes when their womenfolk have had their say and departed."

Pigs Have Wings
P.G. Wodehouse

I can always rely on Plum to bring a smile to my face. I just got a collection of the complete Mulliner stories at Powell's Books, (the best bookstore in the world), and I'm looking forward to have that as a backup to my main book for the evening reading.

Currently reading …

' "Old habits die hard. I will not promise to reform altogether. I shall, with your permission, continue to propose to you, at decently regulated intervals—as a birthday treat, and on Guy Fawkes Day and on the Anniversary of the King's Accession. But consider it, if you will, as a pure formality. You need not pay the smallest attention to it."

"Peter, it's foolish to go on like this."

"And, of course, on the Feast of All Fools." '

Dorothy Sayers
Gaudy Night

Dorothy Sayers is in my personal top 10, (along with P.G. Wodehouse, Gerald Durrell, Beverley Nichols and the aforementioned Josephine Tey). I actually would be hard put to it to provide anyone with a finite top 10, but these 5 writers would definitely make the cut.

It's been a surprisingly long time since I've read this book. Somehow I had subconsciously convinced myself that it was more recent. Perhaps that has to do with the superficial plot resemblance to Josephine Tey's Miss Pym Disposes, which I have read relatively recently. Actually the plots are dissimilar, but the settings are reminiscent.

The quoted section above is wonderful piffle, but it's more than that. It purports to say nothing, while saying a great deal beneath the surface. That's characteristic of Sayer's work. It is richly layered. It is wonderful to discover new angles every time you come back to a story.

McManus in Love

One of my nieces (when she was much younger) was helping her mom and Grandma in the kitchen. She had been chattering cheerfully away and then for a time subsided into thoughtful reflection watching them work. Eventually she completed her deliberation and whispered to her mom, "Grandma is being so nice. Do you think we can give her a little treat?"

This past week, I'd had one of those weeks and was ready for a treat? You know the kind of week I mean. A couple of days I got up late and then spent most of the day wondering why I'd bothered to get out of bed at all. So Friday night I had a special dinner and went and saw McManus in Love.

The show is based on the humorous short stories of Patrick McManus. I often have one of his books beside the bed and I'll dip into a story or two to supplement whatever else I'm reading. I am not particularly interested in fishing and hunting, but his descriptions and characterizations are so hilarious that I'm captivated.

McManus in Love is one of four shows that McManus has written for the actor Tim Behrens. Tim plays all the parts, from McManus himself to Crazy Eddie Muldoon, to Rancid Crabtree and many others. One of my favorite moments was actually after the show at the curtain call when he returned to the stage and talked off the cuff for about 10 minutes. As Tim explained, he lives in Spokane and about halfway across the state on the way to the show, remembered that he had forgotten the programs. He called his wife to tell her and she responded by asking what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

"Do you want me to drive all the way over there and deliver the programs or should I do an emergency shipment and try to get the programs to you that way?"

"No honey. Of course not!"

This, as he explained to the guys, was the correct answer in the circumstances. Marriage depends on such answers. He went on to catch us up with the current projects that Patrick McManus is working on. He also described how they met. Patrick was his advisor in a graduate level writing course, and as Tim was preparing to walk the aisle for graduation, Patrick told him he should really stick to acting. Despite this, they became great friends. At the conclusion of the talk, he explained that all of this would have been in the program, but of course we didn't have programs. What fun!

Heffalumps

Currently reading:
Trunk Road for Hannibal: With an Elephant over the Alps
John Hoyte

It's an interesting read about an interesting experiment—taking an elephant over the author's hypothesised route for Hannibal and his army. I would have been interested anyway, but the following items added to my interest.

• Side note #1: John Hoyte is the husband of Luci Shaw, the poet (and another Bellinghamster).


• Side note #2a: John Hoyte was interned during WWII by the Japanese in the same camp in China as Eric Liddell (of Chariots of Fire fame).


• Side note #2b: This is the same internment camp that is profiled in the book Shantung Compound—an exceptional book about human nature and the trappings of civilization.
• Side note #2c: This is the same internment camp where the kids from Chefoo School (later my alma mater) were interned.
  
• Side note #3: I love elephants.
  

Unfortunately, it seems unlikely that I will ever have an elephant of my own, but they are wonderful creatures and I want to visit them as often as I can. The attached photograph provides evidence that (even at a young age) I was interested in elephants. (I'm on the left.)

Three hanky event

I really have no words to describe my feelings on watching the inauguration of Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States. May God richly bless him and his family. Protect them and guide them in the days to come. God bless America and as Tiny Tim would say, "God bless us, everyone."

Traditions (Part 2)

The tradition at our house also includes the arrival ceremony. I open the door and the cats are there to greet me. Nala greets me by the door first, and then she'll run ahead and throw herself at my feet and do the "cute and fuzzy routine" as illustrated below. When I'm done petting her and continue into the house, she tries to grab my feet so I can't leave.

When I am able to finally break free, Cleo awaits me in the kitchen for her turn. She sometimes won't even stop in one place so I can pet her, so part of my routine is catching her as she races around the house purring loudly.

Even though they're sisters, I have to make sure I distribute my affections equally to avoid jealousy and ill feelings. As kittens they engaged in kitty wars, and sometimes still do. I just have to make sure that it stays as play and intervene when feelings run high.

Cleo is a calico tiger tabby with gold eyes and Nala is creme colored hint-of-Siamese with intensely blue eyes.

Location, location, location

So I'm on my (almost*) weekly drive with Mom. It's grey and foggy and you can barely see 50 yards into the surrounding fields. As you reach the top of a hill it's possible to discern a ghostly image of the sun peering through, and straight above a hint of lightness and the blue of a clear sky. Then as the altitude drops, the greyness increases. Finally, we come up a rise and the mist disappears completely. The sun is shining. The view is unobstructed all the way to distant peaks. It's hard to imagine that seconds before we were in a world of gray and now we're in a world of brightness and clarity.

We picnicked** just beyond the summit of Steven's Pass with frost coating the trees above us and a friendly crow on the adjacent snow bank watching our every move. Eventually, he realized he wasn't getting any crumbs, so he swore at us and flew away. We continued on to Leavenworth, and then turned back for home.

As we reached the lowlands the mist over-took us again. When we came out of the grocery store, it was almost dark and there seemed no possibility we would see any sunset colors. However, in the final stretch as we came up out of the river valley to the summit of a small hill, the world opened up into a brilliantly colored sunset with views all the way to the distant mountains.

So and but anyway...there you have it, and stuff.

* Almost weekly, not almost drive... :-)
** For those of you who are duly impressed at the hardiness of our family, I hasten to mention that we picnicked inside the car. We're from sturdy pioneer stock, but we have our limits.

Currently listening to ...

Funky Gene's
Gene Harris Quartet

Wow! The tune Nice 'n Easy swings so hard that it's almost unbelievable, (even when it's the greatest jazz piano player of all time). Argufy if you want. It's the truth.

I had forgotten about The Children of Sanchez. I did a version of the song when I was in college. Even though this version is instrumental it still packs an emotional punch, but of course the lyric tells the whole story.

Without dreams of hope and pride a man will die.
Though his flesh still moves, his heart sleeps in the grave.
Without land man never dreams 'cause he's not free.
All men need a place to live with dignity.

Take the crumbs from starving soldiers, they won't die.
Lord said not by bread alone does man survive.
Take the food from hungry children, they won't cry.
Food alone won't ease the hunger in their eyes.

Every child belongs to mankind's family.
Children are the fruit of all humanity.
Let them feel the love of all the human race.
Touch them with the warmth, the strength of that embrace.

Give me love and understanding, I will thrive.
As my children grow my dreams come alive.
Those who hear the cries of children, God will bless.
I will always hear the children of Sanchez.

Recipe books

So I went to get some recipe books tonight. I found a great one with 50 Indian curries, including beautiful illustrations. For future reference, don't shop for recipe books before you've had your dinner. It was an interesting experience that I don't think I'll repeat. I came home and had some amazing leftovers for dinner so the wait was almost worth while.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Dr. King. Some of us haven't forgotten. May freedom ring.

Music update

Currently listening to:
Cool Yule
Louise Rose

Louise is one my favorite piano players, one of my favorite singers, and one of my favorite people. I actually listen to this album all year, and especially in the last few days it has been part of my personal sound-track. Even when I am not actively listening, I find musical passages from the album wending their way through my brain. She book-ends the album (first and last track) with a wonderful solo piano rendering of In the Bleak Midwinter which is profoundly moving. She lives and plays in Victoria B.C. (one of the greatest cities in the world). It's a great tragedy that she is not better known. Y'all have been told! Her albums are available from her web-site at http://www.lrose.com/.

Note to self: Make plans to hear the Victoria Good News Choir again.

Traditions

During the holiday season, I've been thinking about traditions. Some of my traditions might be considered odd. For instance, our family has Thai food for Christmas dinner when we get together, (although we usually also do the more traditional options with inlaws or friends).

We are busy establishing traditions at my house. Every night as soon as I go to bed, Cleo comes in from wherever she is in the house and curls up by my feet. It doesn't matter what important sleeping she is doing. There are priorities, after all. She purrs intensely, and I am required to shift around and skritch her under the chin. I have suggested that she move closer to the head of the bed, and she steadfastly refuses to cooperate.

The other tradition we have established is in the morning. When she has determined that I am really getting up, she goes in the shower stall and waits for me to go in there. She expects some serious attention before I am permitted to continue my ablutions. There have been a couple of mornings she narrrowly escaped a drenching, but she always leaves before the water hits the tiles.

The attached picture is when she was still a kitten, but you get the idea. It doesn't get better than that.

Cheerio, Alan

False advertising

"I passed through a little town called Pine Mountain, which seemed to have everything you could want in an inland resort. It was attractive and had nice shops. The only thing it lacked was a mountain, which was a bit of disappointment considering its name. I had intentionally chosen this route because Pine Mountain conjured up to my simple mind a vision of clear air, craggy precipices, scented forests and tumbling streams—the sort of place where you might bump into John-Boy Walton. Still, who could blame the locals if they stretched the truth a little in the pursuit of a dollar? You could hardly expect people to drive miles out of their way to visit something called Pine Flat-Place."

(Currently reading)
Bill Bryson
The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America

I can't unconditionally recommend Bill Bryson's books, but if you can get past the crudity of some his prose, he really is insightful and funny. Check him out. Cheerio, Alan

Welcome

This blog is an experiment in communication. I'll give it a try and see how it goes. For distant friends this can be a way for us to stay in touch. For those of you I see more frequently, we can still share some experiences and thoughts. Cheerio, Alan