Friday, October 29, 2021

Liturgy Adapted from Mary Oliver's "Thirst" (mostly)

Every week, our Education for Ministry seminar (EfM) begins class with a worship service. We are encouraged to be creative, so long as our liturgy hits the same marks as ones authorized in our prayer book.

I'd been reading about Mary Oliver's collection Devotions and made the jump to creating a liturgy that would be a sort of collage of pieces from her work. I read her collection Thirst when it was new during the weekend of my first vestry retreat, and blogged about it. That post A Doorway into Thanks is a perrennial hit, read now by thousands.

A Short Worship Service Adapted from Poet Mary Oliver's Thirst (2006)

The ellipsis [...] marks my omissions from Oliver's text; two asterisks ** mark space breaks inserted for the purpose of group reading. Other spaces are Mary Oliver's own.

Opening from "Six Recognitions of the Lord" p. 26
I know a lot of fancy words.
I tear them from my heart and my tongue.
Then I pray.

Confession ibid
Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour
me a little. And tenderness too. My
need is great. Beauty walks so freely
and with such gentleness. Impatience puts
a halter on my face and I run away over
the green fields wanting your voice, your
tenderness, but having to do with only
the sweet grasses of the fields against
my body. When I first found you I was
filled with light, now the darkness grows
and it is filled with crooked things, bitter
and weak, each one bearing my name.

A Song of Praise from "Messenger" p.1 (adapted for responsive reading - response after each asterisk)
My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird -- equal seekers of sweetness,*
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. Here the clam deep in the speckled mud.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?*
Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished,[...]*
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,*
telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever.

Homily "The Summer Day" from The House of Light (1992)
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.**

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.**

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Prayers from "Praying" p. 37
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

Silence may follow. Worshipers are encouraged to speak their own petitions.

We sum up all our petitions in the words that our Lord Jesus Christ taught us, saying...
The Lord's Prayer

Collect to be selected from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer

Closing "Thirst" p. 69
Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the
hour and the bell; grant me, in your
mercy, a little more time. Love for the
earth and love for you are having such a
long conversation in my heart. Who
knows what will finally happen or
where I will be sent, yet already I have
given a great many things away, expect-
ing to be told to pack nothing, except the
prayers whic, with this thirst, I am
slowly learning.

Wednesday, October 27, 2021

Theology for Breakfast: Fr. Adam Trambley in Forward Day by Day

After feeding the dog, birds and squirrels each morning, I sit with my coffee to do morning prayer ("Open my lips, O Lord" --sip--"and my mouth shall proclaim thy praise") and to read the meditation on the day's scripture from the quarterly publication Forward Day by Day. In August 2021, I especially looked forward to the insights of Adam Trambley, a priest in Pennsylvania.

Maybe because this was my first August in 40 years that I had no classes to plan for, I responded to his message that cultivating your inner life is a good and necessary thing but not the only thing. You have to get out of yourself, and our church has to get out of itself, too.

Calm
One message Trambley takes from scripture is calm down. The 5000, having just been fed, clamor for assurance that they'll always have bread (John 6); Trambley says they want a "silver bullet" to make everything fine forever, and that's not what Jesus offers. So calm down, and get on with life in Jesus.

Jesus takes the blind man away from the crowd in Bethsaida to restore his sight, then sends him away from town (Mark 8), because, as Trambley writes, "Our most profound experiences of God can initially feel quite fragile," so we need time alone to "process and appreciate what has happened."

For the Feast of Transfiguration, Trambley tells how disappointed he was to discover on a pilgrimage to Mt. Tabor that a modern church there has set aside three grottoes for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, just as Jesus forbade the disciples to do. But Trambley relents: how else can we "hold on to encounters with God that transcend what we can process?" (I call this blog my "word sanctuary" as I use it for that purpose.)

When Paul admonishes us to be "careful...how you live...making the most of the time" (Ephesians 5.15-16), Trambley says it's not about being more efficient in tackling our to-do lists:

A wise relationship to time means appreciating every moment and relishing it. Drunkenness and debauchery are shunned because they numb us to the beauty and wonder pregnant in every instant.

When we open our calendars, God would have us grateful instead of stressed.

Have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another (Mark 9.50) In these words from Jesus, Trambley sees instruction that we are responsible for nurturing our own souls, and we'll be "disappointed if we depend on others to make our lives complete." But when we do find "wholeness in ourselves," then "we can accept and love people for who they are" and be "at peace with one another."

"Silence" was Trambley's last word on this theme. Among myriad instructions for the building of Solomon's temple in 1 Kings 6, Trambley draws our attention to a detail in verse 7, that noisy cutting and hammering of materials for Solomon's temple were to happen off-site to hallow the site of the temple with silence. The reading was assigned for August 27, a day set aside to honor Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle, pioneering ministers to the deaf. Trambley challenged us to sit ten minutes in silence, eyes closed. (I tried all week and couldn't do it.)

Fun with Scripture
Then Trambling picks up on some fun things in scripture that I had not noticed or at least had not savored before.
  • Psalm 136 is a litany of thanksgiving that gets weird in the middle where a slew of obscure kings get slain, each killing followed by the refrain "and [God's] mercy endures forever." Trambley takes comfort from the knowledge that "the geopolitical events of ancient Israel were as problematic as our own," and, God's mercy endures forever.
  • Trambley compares Shimei, son of Gura, to a scrappy baseball manager leaving the dugout to scream at the umpire. I'm glad he picked up on this obscure episode in the 2 Samuel 16, where Shimei runs out of his home to curse David and his soldiers. With so much screaming, name-calling, and mockery in our media today, David's response is cool: either he really deserves it and God will let the curses rip, or David will earn credit for his restraint.
  • "Wily" isn't a word we associate with Jesus and St. Paul, but Trambley does. He sees wiliness in the readings that go with Psalm 18.27, With the pure you show yourself pure, but with the crooked you are wily. For example, when Jesus tells the disciples to follow a man with a water jar to the unnamed place where he'll meet them for their Passover seder, "he ensures that his disciples receive the gift of the first eucharist since Judas cannot tell the authorities where to find him until after the meal." Then, Paul tells a centurion to "jettison the ship's lifeboats rather then let sailors sneak away and leave his party to their deaths." Then Solomon uses "a wily trick" to identify the infant's true mother. Trambley asks us to think when we were ever "wily for Jesus."

Prayer Walks
I was so taken by his insights and easy writing style that I bought a book that he co-edited and contributed to. His collaborators take turns drawing lessons for the Episcopal church in this time of declining membership from the building up of the church in Acts 8. So, for example, in Philip's ministry to the city of Samaria, Trambley sees an apostle responsive to the needs he finds. "Loving, thriving churches see themselves as being called to give away their resources to meet the needs of the community," he writes in Acts to Action, compared to dying churches that keep trying to draw support from the community for what they've been doing for decades.

Trambley tells how his spiritual director pushed him to get involved with the city council soon after moving to his new church. Soon, he was offering the church to the council for some community needs, and then there was reciprocation and mutual gratitude.

Trambley also describes taking "prayer walks" sometimes alone, but more often with officials and parishioners. All that's required is

...to take a thirty- to sixty-minute walk in the community or neighborhood and to be in coversation with God about what you see. As you encounter places where things are going well, give thanks. Where you see problems, ask God to intervene. When you find the beginnings of new life, ask God's blessing. The more you walk and pray, the more you will see in the community and what you see will draw you deeper into prayer.
And prayer changes the person who does the praying, especially in growing their awareness.

He seems to be a wise and humble priest working with the Acts 8 Movement to find a way forward for our national church. I'll look for more. See acts8movement.org.

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

"Fire Shut Up in My Bones": Opera Makes a Man

The opera Fire Shut Up in My Bones puts everything out there in the first three minutes. Before the curtain rises, we see a projection of a verse by the prophet Jeremiah from which the title comes, a signal that a truth "shut up like fire" will be spoken. The curtain rises on a young man with a gun singing to us "they're here," the tears and anger walled in since childhood. A woman enters his space but stays behind him as she urges him to use the gun to fulfill his destiny. We understand that she personifies Destiny, and that she is tempting him the way the Devil tempts Everyman in the medieval drama.

But where's the angel who should be standing on this Everyman's other side? When the scene is repeated in the dramatic context of Act Three, the identity of the character who fills that angel space has meaning and great emotional impact.

[I'd forgotten many specifics of the opera when I revisited this article months after the broadcast, but just re-reading the previous sentence brought back the impact full force, with tears.]

Based on the 2014 memoir by New York Times columnist Charles M. Blow, the opera's three acts tell of his childhood in rural Louisiana before an incident of "betrayal" by an older cousin, his adolescence after that incident, and his freshman year at Louisiana's Grambling State. In an inspired choice, the librettist Kasi Lemmons has grown-up "Charles" (baritone Will Liverman) on stage shadowing his childhood self "Char'es-Baby" (13-year-old Walter Russell III), to amplify emotions and interpret the significance of certain memories.

Lemmons writes mostly in couplets, the rhymes assisting us to follow the development of each thought. She re-introduces certain phrases throughout the story so that different scenes "rhyme" in a way, too. I recall Kiss me, hug me... You've got to break up the dirt to make things grow... sometimes you have to leave it in the road... love with a laugh [isn't worth much -- pardon my incomplete memory of this and the other phrases].

Composer Terence Blanchard propels the action with a variety of colors and tempos in the orchestra with incidental references to gospel, blues, and even disco. From repeated phrases in the libretto, he creates musical "hooks" that, like the opening scene, gain new meaning as they repeat in new contexts. Like rhymes, these repetitions serve as benchmarks for the development of the protagonist. For the specially-paired "Charles" and "Char'es-Baby," Blanchard has written vocal lines that the boy handles with power and self-assurance and the baritone enriches with his trained sound.

During the Live in HD broadcast Saturday October 23, different singers and members of the creative team spoke of what the piece says about perseverance and survival of trauma.

For me, the theme that emerged even more than perseverance is an exploration of what it means to "be a man." From the first time we see "Char'es-Baby," he's being told not to skip, not to be such "a mama's boy"; older Charles describes him as "a child of peculiar grace." For his father, being a man is about playing around. His sons echo him, showing their youngest brother that love is something men laugh and brag about.

His brawny uncle Paul models physical strength, but more than that, a man's responsibility to provide for his sister's family when the boys' father cuts out.

The mission to "make a man" out of Charles opens an opportunity for the traumatic betrayal. His older cousin Chester rooms with Charles and teaches him to steal candy, because, he says, a man makes up his own rules. Then Chester introduces a new "game" behind the closed door to Char'es-Baby's bedroom. The creative team makes the tension of the scene unbearable. There is no enactment: the actors stand apart from each other, facing the audience. But the effect is powerful and painful to watch (or recall). The music draws out the tension while lyrics repeat what the cousin said about a game, stealing candy, implying what's happening from an oblique angle.

[By coincidence, I saw the opera on the same day that I heard an interview on NPR's Fresh Air with actor/singer Billy Porter, whose stepfather abused him under the same pretext of "making a man out of him."]

Keeping the event as a secret shame, Charles continues to doubt his own manhood. When his brothers learn that he "got laid," they say, "You're a man, now." But he's disturbed by erotic dreams suggested on stage by an ensemble of male dancers, and thinks something's wrong with him. The Kappa Alpha Psi fraternity, step-dancing with their "Kappa canes," presents another model for masculinity that involves service, military discipline, and self-sacrifice for sake of brotherhood.

In the very satisfying resolution, being a man isn't about sex or sexuality, physical strength or dominance. Charles has the courage to be honest and the strength to leave those other games behind.

Terence Blanchard, composer / libretto by Kasi Lemmons
adapted from Charles M. Blow’s moving memoir
co-directed by James Robinson and Camille A. Brown. Brown also choreographed the production.
Baritone Will Liverman as Charles, soprano Angel Blue as Destiny/Loneliness/Greta, soprano Latonia Moore as the mother Billie, and 13-year-old Walter Russell III as Char’es-Baby.

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

On a Bike to Updike's Childhood Home

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147 miles from Washington DC to Shillington PA
October 14-19

Heading towards Boston on my virtual world tour, I've taken a side trip to revisit a town where I've never set foot, Shillington PA. John Updike's childhood home opens there as a museum this very week. Updike fans know the place well enough from his fiction, poetry, and essays for it to feel like a home they remember.

[PHOTO: With most, but not all, of the Updike books I've read, I'm pictured in front of the old Updike home in Shillington, PA, now a museum.]

When I covered the last 24 miles on a bike trail near Atlanta yesterday, the sunlight was so clear and the October air so clean and dry that I could count the needles on a pine 100 feet ahead. That's how John Updike's writing is, precise to the tiniest detail, spacious to encompass an entire time and place. It's been refreshing to read his work again to prepare for this visit.

In his poetry collection Endpoint, completed during his final illness, Updike tells why he returned so often to his Shillington years in his work. "I've written these before, these modest facts, / but their meaning has no bottom in my mind" (27). Updike expresses gratitude that his words have "formed, of those I loved, more solid ghosts" (19).

That same desire to praise and preserve what I've loved is what drives me to write this blog. Updike wrote elsewhere that it's an act of worship to describe as accurately and honestly as possible what the Creator has made.

In his last years, Updike returned to the old place in valedictory stories and poems that are deeply moving. See my blogposts Endpoint: Light at Sunset (04/2009), My Father's Tears: The Updike Variations (07/2009). In Jung Over: Geography of the Self (04/2013), having re-read the Shillington part of Updike's memoir Self-Consciousness, I reflect on a dream of my own personal "Shillington." See my Updike page for a curated list of blogposts about his work and about him.

←← | ← || → Use the arrows to follow my bike tour from the start.

Missing Janet Jackson

Sam Sanders, the ebullient host of NPR's broadcast-podcast It's Been a Minute always ends his show asking us to send him a message about the best thing that happened all week. The best thing that happened to me was that he programmed a whole hour on Janet Jackson (October 9) introducing me 35 years late to her album Control. Since then, her music has added a swagger to my step wherever I've gone. I feel 27 again.

Sam interviewed Jackson's producers James Harris III ("Jimmy Jam") and Terry Lewis. They chose the assignment to record an album with Janet Jackson because they saw in her TV sitcom performances an "attitude" that didn't show in her two lackluster pop albums. They thought that she would be interesting to write songs for.

Their collaboration started with "therapy," just hanging out with her at restaurants and movies, asking her questions. After a week of that, she asked when they were going to start work. They presented her these lyrics from "Control":

When I was seventeen,
I did what people told me.
Did what my father said
and let my mother mold me.
But that was long ago.
I'm in control...
Other verses were about regaining control after losing it over first love -- "I didn't know what hit me" -- and her determination to take control of her career. Incredulous, she asked, "Do you mean that you're going to make songs from everything we talk about?" Yes. She said, "Then I want to talk to you about this and this...!"

The songs that resulted are all different in character, "but they hang together," Sanders says. From taking control, kicking back against "nasty boys" and the lout who hasn't done anything for her lately, she looks for someone better. She surrenders some control when she finds someone who gives her joy. She warns, "Let's wait awhile / before we go too far," but undercuts that message when she ends the album with a make-out song "Funny How Time Flies (When You're Having Fun)."

Listening to the album for the first time, I hear what makes Harris and Lewis call her "fearless, relentless, beautiful." Hers is a supple voice capable of both piercing high notes and of a low whisper so sensuous in the last song that my mouth goes dry. The one song that I recognized as hers before this week is "Nasty Boys," more growled than sung, but I marvel now at how she draws the word "boys" out to four expressive syllables.

Janet's work with Harris and Lewis shares some qualities that I'd loved in Michael Jackson's work with Quincy Jones. In their songs, you get some bright colors, a layered texture with some fast-moving parts, some over-arching slow melodies, and unexpected bits of punctuation from brass or percussion. Other 80s acts used this layered approach -- and so does Mozart! -- but I hear more care for variety and surprise in these early works by Michael and Janet. Also, these dancers' voices dance: breaths, cries, and segmentation of some phrases amount to a solo rhythm track like a tapper's tattoos.

Sam's radio show moved on to the incident that halted Janet Jackson's career in 2004. Sam plays a clip of Justin Timberlake's admission that their "stunt that went too far" was a 50-50 mistake, but, he said, "I'm only getting 10 percent of the blame."

I hear that Janet's doing well in Europe and winning awards for previous work. I'm planning to catch up with her. Only 34 years of music to go.

Thursday, October 14, 2021

Kennedy Center's Summer of Sondheim 20 Years Later

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258 miles from Durham NC to Washington DC
September 9 - October 13

Kennedy Center is where I found my tribe. It was 2002, summer of the center's "Sondheim Celebration." Cycling around Atlanta this month, I've covered enough miles to take me to Washington, where I can virtually revisit this place and that time.

On the shuttle from the Metro to Kennedy Center, I overheard conversations among Sondheim fans from as far away as Australia who, like me, had donated $2000 to the Center in 2001 for the privilege of buying $500 seats to six Sondheim shows being staged at the center during the summer of 2002. I subscribed to The Sondheim Review and I checked out a couple of Sondheim web sites, but I still felt pretty isolated in my fandom. Sondheim himself called his work "caviar to the general," an acquired taste. So what a joy it was to be in a space where so many of us shared the same appreciation for his work.

We rose to our feet as one to roar our approval for Jonathan Tunick when he took the podium to conduct Company. The hall was filled with people who, like me, knew Tunick's orchestrations for 30 years of Sondheim shows, had probably read all the same interviews with him that I had read, appreciated the nuances of his work, and wanted him to know how much the music meant to us.

At Sweeney Todd, the plucky understudy who took Christine Baranski's role of "Mrs. Lovett" went up on a line during the song "A Little Priest." All of us shouted the cue; she said, "Thanks," and finished the song with applomb.

Seeing so much Sondheim back-to-back at one venue brought out some commonalities in his work.

  • What was the same is how it was all so different in subject, look, sound, and tone.
  • At least one number in every show challenged actors to perform some combination of multi-tasked staging, multi-layered character, rapid patter, and vocal athleticism that earned them huge heartfelt hands. I thought again and again how much Sondheim gives to the actor.
  • Different as the shows are, one common theme emerged: we don't have a lot of time on earth to connect to others, so get to it. (Autumnal leaves in the otherwise summery setting for A Little Night Music tipped me off to this one. I'd thought of it as a romantic comedy. At Kennedy Center, I realized, it's about death!)

My Sondheim summer wouldn't have happened without Gloria Friedgen, a dynamic and innovative science teacher who had been my colleague at The Walker School in Marietta, GA. I'd taught her daughters Kristina and Katie in class, and had spent hundreds of hours with them in the after-school drama club doing Midsummer Night's Dream, Little Shop of Horrors, cabarets, and Into the Woods, Jr. which featured Gloria as the cow. For two weekends at different ends of the summer of 2002, Gloria hosted me at her home in Maryland, where I met her charming Italian mother and Coach Ralph Friedgen. While he worked with his team, Gloria and the girls took me to DC to see Sondheim shows.

The shows that we saw, though not the specific productions, are covered in other posts on this blog. Here are some samples: Company, A Little Night Music, Sweeney Todd, Merrily We Roll Along, Sunday in the Park with George, and Passion. See my Sondheim page for a curated list of many, many articles about Sondheim, his shows, and his collaborators.

Since then, I've returned to the Washington area two more times for Sondheim shows. Read about those in my blog reflections Follies Haunting and Haunted, and Road Trip for Road Show.

More Kennedy Center connections: The center opened in 1970 with Leonard Bernstein's Mass, (11/2013) about which I have many very strong very mixed feelings. Then, for many years, my colleague Julia Chadwick and I took 8th graders to see the play Shear Madness on the rooftop theatre of the KC, a model for audience participation that I used in my own series of mystery dinner theatre plays (05/2014). Finally, Julia let me skip a night to go with student Buck C. to a concert hall nearby to see singer Cleo Laine (05/2009) whom I'd been trying to see for 20 years.

←← | ← || → Use the arrows to follow the entire bike tour from the start.

Tuesday, October 12, 2021

How John Adams Composed for 9/11

Before John Adams composed a single note for his commissioned commemoration of 9/11, he took a month to map a strategy and gather words and images of people close to the events of that day. His thinking for this one-of-a-kind assignment could be a good model for any artist with a public responsibility.

His plans worked.  When Robert Spano conducted On the Transmigration of Souls for the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus in 2007, I was there with a group of teens and teachers in the balcony startled when sounds of New York streets surrounded us. A distant siren cued a boy's recorded utterance, "missing," looped to make a pulse over which the orchestra played extended chords. Soon other recorded voices spoke some of the names of the victims, then sentences about lost loved ones, such as

He was extremely good-looking...
She had a voice like an angel...
His mother says "He used to call me every day."

On his website Earbox.com, Adams says that, for occasions like these, "words fail." He chose, instead of poetry or rhetoric, these "humblest expressions" of feeling without adornment or drama. Adams writes that we

know how to keep our emotions in check, and we know how to mask them with humor or irony. Music [can] unlock those controls and bring us face to face with our raw, uncensored and unattenuated feeling.

Even now the memory of hearing a hundred voices in harmony singing those phrases in a conversational rhythm breaks my heart.

When the text came down to irreducible words "I loved him," "light,""day," and "sky," the music brought catharsis with turbulent strings and keening voices before subsiding into sounds that convey what Adams intended, "gravitas and serenity," through chimes, whispered voices, and eerie celesta. When sounds of New York returned, we, too, had "transmigrated," not from state of body to state of soul, but from sorrow of remembrance to ordinary time and life going on.

On the twentieth anniversary of 9/11 last month, a critic placed Adams's work above the "musical ambulance chasing" of other composers' 9/11 pieces.

Adams tells how he prepared for the composition in his memoir (Hallelujah Junction: Composing an American Life. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008). He foresaw that any composer who might seek to amplify the "tortured emotions" and "iconography" of that days' events would produce something in poor taste, an embarrassment. (I heard an egregious example in the same concert hall, the only time I was ever embarrassed for Robert Spano.) Adams was also uneasy about how our grief on that day was mixed with indignation at "the temerity, the outright flamboyance of the attacks" (263). He resolved to "make a public statement that went beyond the usual self-centered auteur concerns" without getting into the political debate over the meaning of the event.

Instead, he wanted to create "a memory space." He writes "I decided that the only way to approach this theme was to make it about the most intimate experiences of the people involved" (265). He took his text from notices for missing people papered around the city soon after 9/11 and from short memorials printed in the New York Times over the months that followed. He recorded the sounds of the city himself. He took inspiration from silent amateur video footage of "millions of pieces of what looked almost like confetti [that] drifted gently amid the clouds of dust and smoke," paper from all those offices (266).

Form followed content as Adams conceived his piece with Charles Ives in mind. Adams had recently conducted the maverick composer's work, appreciating how his compositions are like landscape paintings with foreground, middle ground, and background all visible at the same time (227).

In my mind, Ives was the first composer to approach the orchestral setting as if it were a giant mixing board. Objects, be they fragments or tunes, atmospheric effects, or enormous blocks of sound, appear on the listener's radar as if the composer were moving faders in a grand mix. This is a radically different way of treating musical materials from the traditional rhetorical procedures of European art music, where the discourse is far more linear and logically spun out.
Also, he adds, Ives "kept the vernacular roots of the art alive within the context of formal experimentation," unlike other twentieth-century composers who were "super-refining" their ideas and "following self-imposed protocols that robbed the experience of its cultural connectivity" (228). Hence Transmigration's layers of action: taped sounds, orchestral music, text spoken and sung. Adams also quotes from Ives's piece The Unanswered Question, its elongated chords in the strings and its probing trumpet call (266).

Early performances in New York and London had Adams thinking his piece was "a dud," but the performance that I heard in Atlanta and another in Cincinnati encouraged him. There were better balances of the digital sounds to the live ones. "The pure American quality of [the choruses'] enunciation and their perfectly balanced sonorities lifted the matter-of-fact plainness of the words to a transcendental level" (267).

I remember hearing the piece's premiere in a radio broadcast from New York. Already very familiar with Adams's work, I was disappointed because I thought that Adams had only put together the most obvious things using some tools of his post-minimalist style, taking us on a predictable, inevitable emotional journey; he hadn't really composed anything. Now I see, that's the beauty of his achievement. 

[See a curated list of many more articles about Adams on my page The Minimalist Zone. One of the best is Slow Motion Emotion about the piece "Christian Zeal and Activity."]

Friday, October 01, 2021

Cork O'Connor Mysteries: Suspense and Joy in Books 2 and 3

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Detectives' personal lives often become a drag as their series wear on. So it's a twist that, three novels into the Cork O'Connor mystery series by William Kent Krueger, the detective has grown more physically fit, more connected to his family, and more confident that crime-fighting is something he loves and does well. 

Perhaps other authors confuse complication and darkness with authenticity, but at least so far into the series, Krueger finds authentic joy in his created world:

Sunlight dripping down the houses on Gooseberry Lane like butter melting down pancakes. The streets empty and clean. The surface of Iron Lake on such a still morning looking solid as polished steel.
God, [Cork] loved this place. (PR ch.1).

Fresh air and clean living help. Cork (short for "Corcoran") lives in Aurora, Minnesota among mountains, lakes, forests, and members of the Ojibwe tribe. He has cut back on cigarettes and alcohol. He stays in touch with his spiritual roots in the tribe and, to a lesser extent, the Catholic church.

Krueger takes the crime genre out of dank bedrooms and arid offices into the beautiful but dangerous realm of wilderness adventure stories. In novels Boundary Waters (1999) and Purgatory Ridge (2001), Cork's work involves rowing, hiking, swimming in icy waters, and running a long distance.

Cork's quarries do strenuous outdoor activities, too. When Cork joins a search party for a celebrity singer gone missing in Boundary Waters, we follow her steps and know her thoughts. In Purgatory Ridge, it's a kidnapper with a score to settle for the death of his beloved kid brother. Because Krueger engenders sympathy for both hunter and hunted, our suspense builds as we wonder, "Will Cork figure out what's really going on and catch up before it's too late?"

Cork's wife Jo is a lawyer who often represents the Ojibwe tribe in court, so her work complements her husband's. She grows into the role of being a co-hero, a great development in these early books of the series.

Their children include two competent teenaged girls and a much younger boy Stevie who has some special needs, a family reminiscent of Krueger's stand-alone novel Ordinary Grace (see my post More than a Mystery (07/2019)). With an especially vulnerable child in jeopardy, emotional stakes are high for readers as well as for characters. When such a child steps up to do something remarkable for others, it's a joy, as happens in Purgatory Ridge and also in Boundary Waters when the young son of an ex-convict guides his dad and law enforcement on their grueling expedition. Krueger captures the complicated feeling when he writes that Cork feels "the sweet weight of his son's trust" (PR, ch. 12).

With many more books in the series ready for me to read, I'm hoping that Krueger's Cork stays buoyant.

[See my responses to other Krueger books]

←← | ← || → Use arrows to follow the entire series in sequence.

Thursday, September 30, 2021

Duke Revisited in Spirit

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389 miles from Marietta GA to Durham NC
September 9-30

Arrival at Duke on my virtual bike tour coincides with an assignment for a church class (EfM) to remember spiritual development during a certain period of years.

I lived in many worlds at Duke during the years 1977-1981; learning to integrate them was my education.

World of Religion: Impact
As Duke's West Campus centered on the Chapel (see photo), my world centered on faith, afloat on books by C. S. Lewis and friends in dorm Bible study. But there was an undercurrent of fear for failing to evangelize the sinners around us and we were (maybe) feeling some sinful temptations ourselves.

So I made easy prey when the roommate lottery matched me with someone more fundamentalist than I. He used scripture to show that my faith was incorrect, insufficient, and I was going to hell. Saving me from my roommate's efforts to save me, my friend Kendrick uttered the highest-impact single sentence of my life. See how in Theology Outside the Bible (07/2013), two-thirds through the article.

World of Theatre: Sustenance, Growth
During years when my faith shed its hard shell of judgmentalism, the world of theatre sustained me. Some drama people were religious, some were gay, and all were pot smokers. But my sinful theatre friends were warm, funny, insightful, and earnest about their art.

Dr. John Clum, founding head of the Drama Department, helped me to see that literature doesn't have to be about good people doing nice things in order to speak truth that a Christian would (or should) recognize. I learned how to act a character, not just perform lines, through empathy and imagination, salient traits of Jesus. The world of my religion was expanding. See Dr. John Clum, Writer, Dramatist, Scholar (11/2015) and Good Actors Make Good Company (06/2011).

World of Intellect: Challenge to Go Deep
Intellectual depth challenged my faith and presented a challenge, period. When Professor DiCorcia remarked in passing during History class that "your brain is dead if you still believe in five years what you believe today," I retreated to Duke's chapel after class to pray about that. In the dim stained-glass light, I re-built my faith up from the feel of the grain of the wood in the pew ahead of me to the Creator.

In my junior year, retired general Professor Irving B. Holley taught me to respect how much there is to know about anything, and to confess the corollary, how little I know about anything. See The Essence of Education (09/2013). He advocated an education both broad and deep. As I looked for depth in all my classes, my grades declined a bit but my enjoyment shot up. When I met the work of Henry James, whose prose was a struggle to read, I committed to the challenge of reading all his novels for a two-year independent study. See The American: Henry James Lite (12/2011).

God's Presence in the Medieval and Renaissance World
The first classes I took at Duke introduced me to literature of the Medieval world, where God was a palpable presence, not something you "believed in" or argued about.

My last class at Duke was a deeper dive into that world's successor, the Renaissance. With an overflow crowd of students lining the walls, Professor DeWitt taught class like a Sunday-night camp meeting, pacing, calling out, with lots of perspiration and inspiration. My experience of those faith-soaked worlds has remained an ideal for me. See Church was Made for Waiting (11/2011) and a more personal article A Jung Man's Dream (01/2019).

Grace on a Plate: My Eyes Open to the World
My last college roommate Andréas shook up my world. Like everyone else, I called him "Andy." He'd seemed like a naive kid from Philly who'd needed my guidance, but our roles reversed when I heard him speak French on the phone to his mom and Italian to his father: he was a cosmopolitan Italiano and I was the naive one. Preoccupied with lit, drama, and music, I'd never questioned my US-centric views; Andréas was amused by American food, resentful about America's meddling in the world. I resisted, and we argued.

But a couple of years after graduation, when I chaperoned kids to France, a taste of Andréas's world was like grace, and my eyes were opened. See My Spiritual Encounter with French Asparagus (09/2018)

[I recently ran across this quotation from Andréas in a journal, where I remembered him as a great influence on my life: I'm no longer your little pet freshman, and you can't stand it! He was a truth-teller.]

The Rings of a Tree
Looking back on those years, I see how my worlds had expanded like the rings of a tree, each one wider to encompass the others. I'd experienced what Professor Holley preached, both breadth and depth.

←← | ← || → Use the arrows to follow the entire bike tour from the start.

Tuesday, September 28, 2021

Lapine, Sondheim, and "Sunday": So Much Love in their Words

"So much love in his words...forever with his colors...how George looks...he can look forever..."
(lines written by James Lapine, spoken during the reprise of Stephen Sondheim's song "Sunday" at the end of their musical play Sunday in the Park with George)

The distinguished Broadway musical Sunday in the Park with George wraps a love story in a lively conversation about art -- how we make it, why it matters. 

So does James Lapine's memoir of that musical's creation, Putting it Together: How Stephen Sondheim and I Created Sunday in the Park with George (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021). The starting place for both love stories is George Seurat's pointillist painting A Sunday Afternoon on La Grande Jatte - 1884.

Clockwise from top: Act One finale, 1984; Sondheim and Lapine on set, 1984; Sondheim studies La Grande Jatte, photo by Lapine.

The Musical
The love story in the musical arcs through two acts and 100 years. In the opening seconds of the show, as artist George Seurat sketches "Dot," the woman in the forefront of the painting, she pleads with him to notice "there's someone in this dress." She is determined to "get through" to the artist. But during Act One, she comes to recognize that she cannot have his full attention. He sings why in a reflection about himself,

... however you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out a sky,
Finishing a hat...
-(Sondheim, "Finishing the Hat")
Dot, carrying George's child, finds another man "simple and kind" who "makes a connection." With him, she immigrates to America, leaving Seurat with these words:
You have a mission,
A mission to see.
Now I have one, too, George.
And we should have belonged together.

I have to move on.
("We Do Not Belong Together")

In Act Two, another artist named George, descendant of Seurat and Dot, revisits the island of La Grand Jatte. He had planned to bring along his grandmother Marie, the baby in the painting, to celebrate the painting's centennial with a new art installation. But Marie has died, the island is encrusted with buildings and pavement, and he's having doubts about his own work. 

As he reads the notes that Dot wrote in her English primer, she appears to him in person. As if he were his ancestor Seurat, she thanks him for what he taught her about being "in the moment," not to worry over past or future -- a lesson that the modern George needs to hear. For his part, George sees in her "Things I hadn't looked at / Till now," her smile, "the way you catch the light," the "care / and the feeling." Now George and Dot sing in unison, "We have always belonged together." Dot inspires him to "stop worrying if your vision is new" and "move on."

The Collaboration
James Lapine reflects in his book that the two years spent creating Sunday in the Park with George "changed my life, and I would venture to say it changed Sondheim's as well." No doubt about that: Sondheim's memoir, part I, ends at a lowpoint in his career, but he adds, "Then I met James Lapine."

The two men were unsuited to each other like characters who "meet cute" in a rom-com.

Lapine, barely in his 30s, straight, with "commitment issues," was an out-of-work teacher of fashion design with a couple of writing-directing credits at an off-Broadway workshop for experimental drama. Sondheim, 52 and gay, was a multi-Tony-winner and "Broadway's Music Man" (Newsweek) but suffering the end of his fruitful collaboration with director Hal Prince after their show Merrily We Roll Along flopped in 1981.

When a common friend arranged for a meeting, Lapine didn't know any of Sondheim's work except for the 1979 masterpiece Sweeney Todd. Blocked by a nuclear protest, Lapine barged through the crowds to arrive at Sondheim's town home just on time. Sondheim put him at ease by offering a joint.

"I loved that you did that," Lapine says to Sondheim in the book. The transcripts of Lapine's reminiscences with Sondheim glow with many moments when the two collaborators express feelings they'd kept private at the time.

For example, Sondheim reveals that it was Lapine's play Twelve Dreams that kept him from quitting theatre altogether. Sickened by the glee that greeted the failure of Merrily in "so-called Broadway circles" (17), he wanted nothing more than to create video games. But Lapine's play inspired him.  "Really? I didn't know that," says Lapine in his interview.

Then Sondheim describes the moment that began their long working relationship. Over several meetings, they'd not found a subject of sufficient interest to both of them. Then Lapine laid down a postcard printed with Seurat's Sunday on La Grande Jatte, and the two found possibilities. It looked to them like a stage set; all the characters seem to avoid looking at each other. Then Lapine observed that "the main character is missing" -- the artist. Sondheim says, "Boing! All the lights went on" (23).

As in any good romantic comedy, there were doubts, more than either man knew at the time. Reading Lapine's first drafts, Sondheim felt superfluous. "This will make you blush," Sondheim tells Lapine, "but you are -- a poet" and Sondheim feared that any song by him would be "intrusive" (35). At the same time, Lapine felt that Sondheim always had "one foot out the door." Sondheim says,

I never detected any of that. ...Not only did I enjoy your company, but also I thought everything you were showing me was fun and good and stimulating. (35)
Sondheim's procrastination made it a pretty one-sided collaboration until the day when Sondheim seated Lapine beside him on the piano bench to turn pages while he sang the opening number. Lapine admits, "This is going to sound odd... Suddenly, we were shoulder to shoulder... It was a kind of an emotional moment for me." Sondheim was so nervous that he "attacked" the keys and oversang. He had to do it twice before Lapine "got it," and even then, Lapine apologizes now, "I'm not effusive" (44).

Their trust grew through re-writes, rehearsals, and preview performances when the audience sometimes responded badly. "Out of the blue," Lapine recalls, Sondheim said to him, "I want to write my next show with you." Lapine writes, "I had never felt that kind of trust coming at me." He reflects that his "commitment issues" vanished forever (121).

In an interview about this book, Terri Gross asked Lapine why he never wrote another show with Sondheim after Sunday, Into the Woods and Passion. "Are you still friends?" she asked. "Yes!" Lapine said, though they never found another topic that interested both of them. Lapine worked with Sondheim on a successful revision of Merrily, a stage revue Sondheim on Sondheim, and a movie mixing archival footage and new performances, Six by Sondheim. Now, he told Gross, writing this book has been another way to keep Sondheim in his life.

The Art of Making Art
The love stories in both musical and book are buttressed by dozens of thumbnail portraits of characters whose lives go into the making of the artworks.

In the musical, Seurat sketches the other figures of the painting between his encounters with Dot. Lapine's pithy bits of dialogue bring out their salient characteristics. In musical numbers called "Gossip" and "The Day Off," Sondheim distills Lapine's characters in brief songs. Though a couple of critics say there's "no life" in Seurat's art, Sondheim has Seurat sing along with portions of each portrait, showing how the artist enters into the characters' lives. Seurat even channels two dogs in a virtuoso duet for solo voice. In act two, Lapine and Sondheim interlace dialogue and lyrics to portray a slate of new characters from the contemporary art world who surround the 1984 George.

Likewise in Lapine's book, we get to know actors, producers, and designers. We learn how much the actors helped -- and prodded -- Lapine and Sondheim to flesh out their characters. In the roles of servants, Nancy Opel and Brent Spiner (subsequently "Data" on Star Trek) introduced German accents that gave Lapine and Sondheim ideas for character development (97). Lapine borrowed personality traits for his 1984 George from the technical designer Bran Ferren who created the laser-based sculpture called "Chromolume #7" (169).

Lapine also got a lot of pushback and resentment, especially during weeks of previews for audiences that grew restless and hostile. He learned about leadership from their pushback. Actor Melanie Vaughan remembers how she, Spiner, and Opel stonewalled Lapine, staring at him blankly while he gave them notes. They were thinking, just tell us what you want (98). Lapine reflects that, as both writer and director, he was still figuring out what he wanted (98). Actor Charles Kimbrough asks Lapine in the book if the memory of all that is painful. "I'm actually somewhat in awe of my younger self. At the time, I was just trying to keep my head above water. But when I look back now, I think: Boy, I had some chutzpah!" (242)

Sondheim felt mounting pressure to fill in gaps in the dialogue where he and Lapine intended the characters to sing. Bernadette Peters complained that "Dot" "kind of disappears" in the first act, pushing Sondheim to write "Everybody Loves Louis," about leaving Seurat for the baker, a peppy song with an undercurrent of sorrow: "We lose things / and then we choose things /...George has George, / and I need someone." Mandy Patinkin, already high-strung (the backstage crew wanted to kill him (218)) was on the verge of quitting. He pleaded for a song that would explain his character. Sondheim finally delivered "Finishing the Hat." Rehearsing it, Patinkin "lit up like a flare," remembers orchestrator Michael Starobin. The song explained "why [Seurat]'s so hard on his partner and also why he's so hard on himself. The piece didn't make sense until that song came in" (120).

Everyone felt even more urgency for Sondheim to produce songs for the second act. For the book, Lapine presses Sondheim for an answer to what took so long.  After all, he and Sondheim had discussed the characters, the moments, the themes; Sondheim had written page after page of notes; yet the audience and actors, too, were left to wonder why they should care about the second-act George or why "Dot" suddenly appears in 1984. What was the delay?

Sondheim finally admits that he has no answer, but it's clear that he benefitted from seeing the actors in their roles. Performing the role of "Marie," Peters spoke to Marie's grandson "George" with a South Carolina lilt that put Sondheim in mind of his favorite composer, southerner Harold Arlen, whose blues-inflected songs were "seductive...warm...yearning" (233). Sondheim wrote those qualities into a new song "Children and Art" in which Marie gently encourages her grandson to produce "the only two worthwhile things to leave behind when you depart this world: children and art" (368). 

That still left a big hole in Act Two where the modern George expresses himself.  Sondheim tells Lapine that he knew the contents of the missing number, but not the form, until he saw the little red book in George's hand, the primer that Dot used to learn English in the first act, a gift to modern George from his grandmother.  Alone in the park, George reads from the book: "Charles has a book... Charles shows them his crayons... Marie has the ball of Charles...." George keeps the primer's simple grammar going as he muses about the lost park and his uncertain future:

George is afraid
George sees the park
George sees it dying.
George too may fade,
Leaving no mark,
.Just passing through.
("Lesson #8")
Lapine tells Sondheim, "So when we finally got those last two songs in the show, Mandy said it best, it was like a magic trick" (240). Sondheim responds, "That's the miracle. ...When music is used correctly, then everything coalesces." Actor Charles Kimbrough gives the cast's perspective. They'd watched from the wings each night as the last scene fell flat.
But the addition of these songs laid that carpet of feeling under the moment. When Dot entered to the music of "Lesson #8," it was clear that this George had summoned her. It was pure gold. And then they sang "Move On" and that just killed. And then when the "Sunday" reprise came around, bam! (241)
Lapine and Sondheim stuck to their vision while producers and actors advised them to just extend act one with some audience-pleasing number and jettison the difficult second act. Lapine writes, "[We] had to stay true to our initial impulses and write the show we had intended, not the show these people [who walked out on the second act] had wanted to see" (127). Actors Mandy Patinkin and William Parry both remember Lapine, a very "controlled" and "internal" man, opening up and choking back tears after the last rehearsal, pleading with the cast to "trust" the show. "Believe in what we have made." And they produced something "remarkable."

Art, Love, and Death
Lapine and Sondheim both have discovered new things in what they themselves wrote. They have heard their own words come back to them in times of discouragement:

Anything you do
Let it come from you
Then it will be new.
Give us more to see.
("Move On")
Lapine says it's a letter to them from their younger selves (127).

Those words from "Move On" speak to me as an artist, too, but the moment that has always spoken to me as a man emerges from another arc in the story. There's a through-line of statements about art that tell us all why we should care about artists doing their work.

This other arc has to do with the death of what you love.

At the start of the show, Dot says, "If you want instead / When you're dead / Some more public / And more permanent / Expression / Of affection," then you want a painter or sculptor whose work will endure "forever." Near the end of the show, 1984 George fears that his life will have been "just passing through." In between, we've heard the admonition to "leave behind" either children or art, and we've heard the anthem "Sunday" that celebrates how Seurat's painting preserves a moment "forever."

But the song "Beautiful" reaches an emotional peak that affected me deeply, from the first time I heard it to the present moment nearly 40 years later.

This quiet song follows Dot's tumultuous aria "We Do Not Belong Together." While Seurat sketches his mother, the "Old Lady" played originally by Barbara Bryne, speaks of memories that are fading. Sondheim's music for her seems to be built on sighing, while an ostinato suggests the river nearby. She sings of regret that the Eiffel Tower is being constructed "where there were trees," and she mourns

Sundays
Disappearing
All the time,
When things were beautiful.
The accompaniment changes to cascades of notes when George tells her "All things are beautiful." In the earlier song "Finishing the Hat," he had expressed the joy of seeing this world through art "like a window...the only way to see." Now he demonstrates for his mother how the tower is "a perfect tree." He promises, "You watch / While I revise the world." Suddenly, she gets it, and her song becomes urgent, as everything is
Changing,
As we sit here--
Quick, draw it all,
Georgie!
("Beautiful")
"You make it beautiful," she says, eyes closed. As this quiet song subsides, the other characters enter, their confrontations with each other at the boiling point. Seurat freezes the chaotic action to compose all the players into the tableau we all know, Seurat's "perfect park" that continues "forever."

The song isn't mentioned in Lapine's book, but the 1986 edition of Craig Zadan's Sondheim and Company includes Mandy Patinkin's story of a two-hour conversation with Sondheim about "people that you love, things you'd like to say to them, ideal states of when you can communicate and when that communication can never take place again....And four days later, he came in with this conversation turned into a poem called 'Beautiful,' set to this simple, gorgeous music" (Zadan 305).

When the Old Lady says, "Quick, draw it all!" she speaks for all of us when we're suddenly reminded that people and places that we love will not last. Sunday gives us the reason to care about the making of art: it's an expression of love that distills, elevates, and preserves the object of appreciation.

As Lapine has done for that life-changing collaboration in this book.

Of Related Interest

Monday, September 20, 2021

North by Northwest to Galesburg


North by Northwest
, directed by Alfred Hitchcock and scored thrillingly by Bernard Herrmann, came to mind this past week when I drove with my sister from Atlanta to Galesburg IL to visit my mom's cousin Pat. It wasn't just that we drove north-by-northwest; the vast blue sky and level landscape reflected the movie's iconic cornfield scene. 

The selfie was shot in the parking lot of a hotel near a small airport outside of St. Louis. That's the same airplane that swooped down on Cary Grant, courtesy Paint 3D.

North by Northwest shows up in another blogpost about my virtual bike ride to Mt. Rushmore.

See video clips of the visit that I put together for Mom to see.

Monday, September 13, 2021

Jordan Scannella, Bassist for HAMILTON: Exclusive Interview on Two Wheels

Today I interviewed the bass player Jordan Scannella, now touring with Hamilton. We were both on bikes on the Silver Comet Trail north of Atlanta. He was ahead, then I passed him, and he stayed close. When we both passed a softball-sized turtle, he asked if turtles were a common sight around here, as he was passing me. I figured he was from out of town and started up a conversation -- once I'd caught up to him. Riding with him was very helpful for my average speed.

In truth, being a friendly guy, he was the one who asked most of the questions. From him, I learned something about the life of a musician traveling with a show. He's staying in a bed-and-breakfast close to the theatre and riding several times a week. When he goes to different places on the tour, he often hooks up with a cycling group to get to know the territory. Not all places are so hospitable as our Silver Comet; he told of unpenned, unleashed dogs. One time he outraced them, but another time they attacked on an uphill climb. In that situation, he got off the bike and put it between him and the dogs. His airhorn confused them. "They forgot what they were doing, and went away."

He was amazed by octagenarian jazz stars whom he saw at Piedmont Park last weekend during the Atlanta Jazz Festival. He theorized that musicians live longer than ordinary people because they keep playing -- "When you stop playing, your life is over," he said. I shared how playing piano in the pit orchestra for Sweeney Todd was the most intense living I've ever done -- and how I wished I'd discovered band when I was doing drama in high school.

About Hamilton, we said little. I told him how I'd known the music and went to find out what the visuals added. (See my article Hamilton on Mute.)

He does some teaching on Zoom these days, and misses in-person interaction, but he acknowledges some advantages in the remote learning.

While we did talk some about music and Broadway, I did not learn until I went online that he has recorded with groups including Jorscan and People's Champs. When conversation shifted to a new topic, I kept to myself a comment about a wonderful bike trail in Cincinnati, missing an opportunity for another connection, since that's his hometown and very dear to me (see Cincinnati on my virtual bike tour).

After I'd gone a bit over an hour, it was time for me to turn back while he explored land west. I told him I'd consider my Hamilton program to be virtually autographed, now.

In an Interview on Bassmusicmagazine.com from 2018, he discusses his background, how he hustles to make a living as a musician in New York, and how he got involved with Hamilton. He's very enthusiastic about the show. Near the end of the interview, he explains how he actually plays several different basses to get the sounds required.... and how he has literally two seconds to switch from one instrument to another. He's grateful for the consistency of his Hamilton schedule, giving him time to compose. And -- it goes without saying -- to ride his bike.

Thursday, September 09, 2021

Cycling America, Virtually: Home again, Marietta GA

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178 miles from Montgomery AL to Marietta GA
September 2-8
Riding my bike around Atlanta, I've been plotting miles on a map of the US, making virtual stops in places that I've lived and/or loved. I'm "back" home in Marietta, GA. Yesterday, I posed for a virtual picture at The Walker School, where I taught 23 years until retiring this summer. Today, I think back on happy memories there.

What warms a middle school teacher's heart is any time a student discovers the inner adult they didn't know was there. It's like discovering a super power. A middle schooler can take a giant step towards adulthood, then go back to being a kid again.

One of my happiest Walker memories is a recent one, a father’s conference on Zoom with Jamie Rubens and me. Jamie and I did nothing more than describe the son’s classroom demeanor. Courteous, curious, determined to make class go well, and funny, the boy was so adult, and such a kid. To our surprise, the dad wept, he was so happy.

In fall 2001, my 6th grade MSD class (Music, Speech, and Drama) composed our own opera The Frog Prince, but we ran out of time. The performance was coming up, but we still had no finale. Andreas Wilder volunteered to write something for all 24 characters to sing at the end. The next day, he apologized, "I just took some of the music from earlier scenes and changed the words. Is that okay?" I reassured him that Mozart did the same thing. Andreas had transformed what the princess sang about the frog who had risked his life to save hers.  Kneeling beside his unconscious body, the princess had sung,

He's short and green,
not tall and clean,
but I think I could love him.
In Andreas's finale, all the students faced the audience and sang
We know we're young
Sometimes we're lazy
Do you think you could love us?
We know we're small,
sometimes we're crazy.
Do you think you could love us?

The parents, our MS secretary Terri Woods, and even our unflappable principal Nancy Calhoun wept.

I remember fondly "Cocoa Cabaret," a middle-school version of a coffee house open mike night that we did each spring in the early 2000s. Kids went up to the mike scared and came back stars. Back then, the Middle School Band had only five players, but they wowed the audience. A shy girl with a beautiful voice had trouble with pitch, so I played a few chords from a 1920s ballad and paused when she sang a line, then I played a little more, and so on. Her voice never clashed with the piano, and no one knew that she made up her own tune in her own key. Big success!

The most memorable moment like that was a performance by Samantha Walker's middle school singers during our Black History program for Arts Month. When Rashan sang the first notes of his solo, I heard the audience of children and adults gasp at his pure, rich sound and the conviction of his delivery.

During an arts showcase, Mrs. Boyer's art classes risked monumental failure but triumphed when teams painted large landscapes live on stage. We watched the canvases go from blobby to beautiful.

At performances by the Upper School, I loved to see how students had grown. I think of Liane's singing with the jazz band, and Patrick's deep and intense performance in All My Sons. The most fun I ever had at Walker -- or ever! -- was playing piano with the orchestra for Katie Arjona's production of Sweeney Todd. Moved by the dedication and concentration of the upper school instrumentalists around me and by how each separate part fit together to support the passionate cast on stage, I had to find the notes for the finale through tears.

Grace under difficult circumstances isn't something you can always count on with middle schoolers, so it was memorable when rain and technical glitches wiped out our entire program for a retreat at a distant camp. We teachers faced the seventh grade in one room with nothing to do for the entire evening. Mike Mackey, Ayren Selzer, Susan Boyer, Lydia Drown, and Dennis McElhaney stepped up to get everyone involved. Dennis has had to fill this role many times, leading the game "Nibblety-Bibble." Some of our kids now play that game at Olympics level.

The teachers couldn't have done it, though, without the students' grace and goodwill. This wasn't what the kids wanted to do, but they understood the situation, and they played along with it.

That same grace and goodwill allowed me to fail numerous times during the months of online COVIDucation until we found ways to keep everyone engaged and producing great stuff. For that reason, I will remember the last two years of my teaching career as the best ones.

See cherished memories from the 17 years I taught at St. Andrew's School in Jackson, MS.

7202 miles on my second world tour begun June 2020;
3290 miles year-to-date in 2021, average speed 15

←← | ← || → Use the arrows to follow the entire bike tour from the start.

Walter Mosley's "Charcoal Joe": Comic Relief

Opening up Walter Mosley's Charcoal Joe (New York: Doubleday, 2016), you may feel a shock at the sheer number of colorful characters, their schemes and scams. Soon, though, you realize it's an L.A.-wide block party with crooks and cops, saps and sirens, black and white and brown. Our affable good-hearted host is detective Easy Rawlins.
[photo of Mosley by Ann Weathersby]

To be sure, Mosley doesn't stint on action. From a comfy cell in a resort-style prison, crime boss "Charcoal Joe" hires Easy to exonerate a young black professor charged with murder of two white men. Following leads, Easy gets in fist fights, battles armed home invaders, and hunts a killer in the killer's own house. In his time off, Easy helps his partners to trap a vile sexual predator.

But this novel brings out Mosley's playful side. When the novel starts, Easy's having a great day. Friends everywhere, each one a character. Lovers, too -- it's a running gag that every woman he encounters want to have his child. Then Mosley makes a kind of game - how many ways can Easy handle whites, cops and proprietors, who mean "You don't belong here" when they say, "Can I help you?"

Mosley plays meta-tricks, too. When Easy names his detective firm with his partners' initials, is it coincidence that WRENS-L rhymes with "Denzel," the actor who played Easy in The Devil in a Blue Dress? Easy makes an important choice on the basis of a slight detail he noticed several chapters before, a virtuoso bit of observation and deduction that might be a respectful nod to Sherlock Holmes.

I found a fun photo of Mosley by Ann Weathersby with an article "Free Radical" by Logan Hill in New York Magazine (Sept. 15, 2005). Hill makes an apt comparison to the plays of August Wilson. Like Mosley, Wilson explored black experience in America across decades through stories set in one city.

I had put Mosley's series aside for awhile, ground down a bit by the weight Easy had to carry. Then I picked up Charcoal Joe and it picked me up.

My Blog Posts of Related Interest
I read the first several books pre-blog.
  • Mosley's Cinnamon Kiss is part of my essay "Guilty Pleasure in Crime Fiction" (05/2006).
  • In "Black, White, and Noire" (04/2009) I consider Mosley's Blonde Faith alongside The Ivory Grin ,written by Ross MacDonald in 1952.  This essay begins, "In one of the throw-away lines that make Walter Mosley's novels so rich, detective Easy Rawlins reflects that he is no more a private eye than . . . any soul sitting in that [black dive, ca. 1966]. Each and every one of us was examining and evaluating clues all the time, day and night (98)."
  • "One Plot, Two Thrillers" (07/2013) finds one-to-one correspondence between two successful thrillers that are otherwise entirely different, Mosley's Little Green and Dean Koontz's Odd Hours.  This article quotes Mosley's striking insights on race in America and on 1967.
  • August Wilson's play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (12/2020) was filmed, with Denzel Washington the producer. Wilson was influenced by the art of Romare Beardon. See Something Over Something Else
  • (01/2020).
See a curated list of links to my reflections on many other crime fiction authors.

Wednesday, September 08, 2021

For History Teachers: Rap About Magna Carta

[After marveling at how Lin-Manuel Miranda squeezed so much history into his lyrics for Hamilton, I recalled that I once squeezed a couple centuries of English history into a rap, writing for a middle school pageant around 1988.  My colleague Martha Neilson wrote the hook.  Any teachers out there are welcome to use this.] 


It all started with a Viking finding England to his liking
and descending on our island with his crew.
All we had were sev'ral princes in their separate provinces;
it was Alfred who decided what to do.

So a kingdom was created; that is what Alfred the Great did
to unite and drive the Vikings from our land.
He was one king among others whom he treated as his brothers,
so the king and lords were working hand in hand.

But it wasn't too much longer 'til the kings were getting stronger.
It was John who fin'ly pushed beyond the line.
All the barons in their ardor made a thing called Magna Carta
and they said they'd kill him if he didn't sign.

(Refrain)
Keeping the kings in line,
keeping the kings in line:
Magna Carta, a petition,
was the start of a tradition
of keeping the king in line.

Now King John, he had a daughter, and the gentleman who got her
was DeMontfort, known as "Simon" to his friends.
Then the crown fell to another who by law was Simon's brother
who continued all of John's annoying trends.

Henry taxed beyond his rights and he imported foreign knights and
wasted fortunes buying finery and jewels.
Simon said, "You may be regal, but you're doing things illegal.
Here in England, rulers must obey the rules!"

So with hundreds of supporters from the high and lower orders
Simon led a great rebellion and he won.
With the king in his possession he proclaimed the debut session
of the Parliament: that's how it was begun.

(Repeat refrain)

But there soon were bad reactions from aristocratic factions
who resented being told to follow laws.
Knowing laws are part of freedom, Simon armed himself to meet 'em
and he died that day, a martyr for the cause.

(Repeat refrain.)

"Hamilton" on Mute

Since the story of Hamilton is densely packed in Lin-Manuel Miranda's songs on the recording [see my review (06/2016)], do you need to see it for $400 to appreciate the story? Turns out, even if you watched Hamilton on mute, you'd get your money's worth.

[See my exclusive interview with Hamilton bassist Jordan Scannella conducted while riding fast on two bicycles along Georgia's Silver Comet Trail.]

Before the show, there's the set to admire. It's a three-story collage of façades - brick, wood, plaster. There are gangplanks and stairs, ropes, warrens, and skywalks for variety of entrances and exits. There's little room for pieces to fly in or scenery to drop so we're going to be looking at the same sepia-toned set the whole time. No crashing chandeliers or helicopters lifting off: spectacle and color are going to be scaled to what humans do in the space.

Once the show starts, the ensemble, barely present on the recording, is fairly ubiquitous on stage. Dancers outnumber the principals nearly three-to-one. They stretch, climb, jump, twist, flex -- anything a fit human body can do to draw our attention to shifts in the mercurial lyrics. They mime battles, a hurricane, even a split-second hanging. Their basic costumes are beige undergarments, but they occasionally don colorful clothes for a change of scenery. Often dancers flow in with chairs and tables for principals who sit just long enough to sign their initials before the next incident.

Then you see over time an "ensemble" in the larger sense of co-ordination and camaraderie. I'd heard Act One as mostly exposition of Hamilton's early years and of Revolution. Seeing the show, I understood that the main action of Act One is about bonding: "scrappy and hungry" Hamilton gains buddies in a tavern, a friend in Burr, the adoration of two Schuyler sisters, the patronage of George Washington, and a company of soldiers. The friends' reactions to each other, often reinforced by the ensemble's close interactions, make you feel a part of a team. Hamilton is a warm show, like Miranda's earlier In the Heights.

Thomas Jefferson reboots the show when he enters stage center in a purple suit at the top of the stairway at the top of the second act. Now it's all about Hamilton's confrontations with Jefferson, highlighted by two cabinet meetings played as rap battles emceed by George Washington. At the Fox, Warren Egypt Franklin's Jefferson appeared as a Goliath to his little David, diminutive Pierre Jean Gonzalez as Hamilton.

Contrast intensifies our focus on individual players when the ensemble clears out. For comic relief, King George gets to interact directly with "his" people in the audience. We don't need words to understand the emotion when Mrs. Eliza Hamilton, betrayed, burns her husband's letters. Dressed in black, Aaron Burr makes a brooding visual presence even when he isn't singing. We see how his resentment builds while he's shut out of the deal-making in "The Room Where it Happens."

Onstage, two meta-theatrical events make more sense seen than heard. In Act One, Angelica rewinds the scene in which Hamilton courts and marries her sister, replaying it with herself as the bride. The fatal gunshot is suspended in time for characters to re-enact bits of Hamilton's story, heightening the impact for us when the bullet hits him.

That's human-scale spectacle, worth the price of a seat in a live theatre.

from the Fox Atlanta Company's website:
HAMILTON is the story of America then, told by America now. With book, music, and lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda, direction by Thomas Kail, choreography by Andy Blankenbuehler, and musical supervision and orchestrations by Alex Lacamoire, HAMILTON is based on Ron Chernow’s acclaimed biography.

Atlanta presents the "Philip" cast, one of three official touring companies, with Pierre Jean Gonzalez (Hamilton), Stephanie Jae Park (Eliza), Jared Dixon (Burr), Ta'Rea Campbell (Angelica), Marcus Choi (George Washington), and Warren Egypt Franklin (Lafayette/TJ).

[While Lin-Manuel Miranda was still in grade school, I packed a rap song with history. See Rap About Magna Carta (09/2021).]

Friday, September 03, 2021

Cycling America, Virtually: Shakespeare Festival in Alabama

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265 miles from Jackson, MS to Montgomery, AL
August 19 to September 2
The Alabama Shakespeare Festival (ASF) proved that plays can be spiritual and uplifting without being religious. From high school and college through several years of teaching, I made a yearly pilgrimage to Alabama for inspiration and reflection. That makes Montgomery, Alabama a must for my virtual bike tour of the US.

The play was not the thing at ASF, but the company. ASF had a repertory system, meaning that a company of actors learned five or six different plays by Shakespeare, Shaw, and other more contemporary writers. Working together all year, sometimes for years in a row, they developed a rapport that brought warmth to the performances that I missed when I saw the same plays in other venues. The audience also developed a rapport with the company. We loved to recognize the same actors in wholly different roles during a single weekend. We spoke with actors in post-curtain talkbacks and sometimes saw them in casual dress around the campus.

That campus is a vast green park that extends far beyond the theatre complex in the photograph above. There are gardens, sculptures, winding paths used by the community for running and riding, and a lake with the same breed of swans you can see at Shakespeare's birthplace. (When ASF asked the Queen for some of her royal swans, they found out that she had imported hers from Alabama.)

Alone or with company, you experience the Festival Effect. So much time away from mundane things, focused on meaningful matters of family, love, and justice through brilliant images and words, you feel a boost in your IQ.  You start to talk like an Oscar Wilde character. You find your world on stage. I remember the end of act one in The Glass Menagerie when everyone in my group, students and chaperones alike, turned to each other to say, "That's just like my family!" During intermission of a play by Shaw, Josh Cox bounded upstairs to the gift shop for the script because, he said, "I want to highlight every line!"

When I saw the plays in 1978 with my high school friend Matt Hutchison, we looked back over the weekend and realized how the plays had stimulated intense conversations about acting, writing, and beliefs. He announced that he had just made up his mind to be an actor; I had just decided to work the other side of drama, writing and directing. He did; I did (with students).

The man who in 1972 started the Festival was Martin Platt, then a college grad working in his old high school in Anniston AL. I met him on his last day with ASF in 1989. A photographer was posing him in front of the theatre complex for a farewell profile. I tried to convey what I've elaborated in this blogpost, my thanks.

I was a faithful pilgrim until ASF gave up the repertory system.  Writing this article, I've discovered that ASF in 2018 put the "Festival" back in ASF with a return to rep.  I'll have to check it out for next summer.  

My memories of specific ASF productions show up in these blogposts:

I've checked back through my old pen-and-paper journals for what I saw at ASF and with whom -- name and initial only. Sorry to the people whose names and years I left out -- my 20-something self did not anticipate blogs.

  • 1977 Othello with Ben E. and other high school friends.
  • 1978 Oh, William (a musical revue), Clarence Darrow, and others with Matt H.
  • 1982 12th Night, Uncle Vanya, Hamlet (I fell in love with this play and directed it three times over the next 40 years)
  • 1983 All's Well..., Arms and the Man, Mass Appeal with Linda P., Emily P., and teacher Steve A. Emily went on to direct a production of Mass Appeal at school.
  • 1984 Macbeth, She Stoops to Conquer, Love's Labours Lost, Oh Mr. Faulkner Do You Write? Linda P., Emily P., Leigh Ann E., Veronica A., Richard A., Bill H., Peter L., Kevin S.
  • 1986 Betrayal, School for Scandal Linda P., Emily P., Jennifer, Ellen L., Kevin S., Kyle O.
  • 1987 Othello, Hedda Gabler, Misalliance, Tempest (I borrowed the puppet idea from Tempest in a middle school production of Wrinkle in Time 30 years later
  • 1989 Cyrano de Bergerac, Candida, Much Ado..., On the Verge, Road to Mecca Josh C. and Jeff A.
  • 1992 Lear, Lend Me a Tenor, Richard II, Comedy of Errors Josh C., Jeff A., Melvin P., Alexis L., Lucy P., Tresa B., Jennifer A., Buck C. (ASF performed all the history plays in regilogical order through several consecutive seasons)
  • 1993 Henry IV pt. 2, Heartbreak House Josh C., Alexis L., Jennifer A., Elise K., David M., Adam F., Dr. Charles W.
  • 1994 Tempest, Dancing at Lughnasa, LIght Up the Sky, Othello, How the Other Half Loves
  • 1995 The Circle, St. Joan, Sisters Rozenzweig, Much Ado... (St. Joan was so wonderful that I went back myself to see it a second time.)
  • One of the 1990s Shiloh Rules (a very memorable play that made me laugh, cringe, and think!)
  • 1997 Merchant of Venice, Ghosts, a play by Horton Foote (no title recorded), Lady Frederick
  • 1998 The Importance of Being Earnest, Coming of Rain, Measure for Measure, Antony and Cleopatra
  • 200-? Terra Nova, Rough Crossing (I stole the photograph idea from the end of TN act one for an original murder mystery that my 8th graders and I wrote 10 years later)
  • 200-? Sockdology (a mostly funny backstage story of the fatal production of Our American Cousin that somehow managed to make everyone gasp and even cry when THE event happens at the end of Act One)
  • 2004 Arcadia (A production so wonderful, I drove back the next week to see the final performance)

←← | ← || →Use the arrows to follow the entire bike tour from the start.