The sky today on the East Coast is overcast, producing a darkness in the house that a lamp brightens. Rain is falling lightly outside, knocking down some leaves whose time has come to fall. The clock ticks loudly on the wall as my wife rehearses on the piano.
Dear reader, I give you today some thoughts about rain and Autumn:
A wind has blown the rain
away and blown the sky
away and all the leaves
away, and the trees stand.
I think,
I
too, have known autumn too
long.
~E. E. Cummins
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
~ Emily Dickinson
Nature XXVII, Autumn.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
~Robert Frost
Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
~Robert Browning
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.
~Johnny Mercer.
Originally a French song "Les Feuilles Mortes"
with lyrics by poet Jacques Prevért.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Chinese Restaurant
I have a favorite Chinese Restaurant that I visit for lunch about once a week. Yesterday, while sitting in their nicely decorated space, I was struck by the contradictions of the lunch.
Although it was a Chinese Restaurant, I was there to have Japanese Sashimi; my waitress, a pleasant college-aged young woman, was neither Chinese or Japanese -- she was from the Philippines. And, the music playing in the background, was a "smooth jazz" saxophone slurring "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." By the time I had finished my last morsel of pickled ginger, Frank Sinatra was kickin "New York, New York."
Aaaah, my Fortune Cookie -- half vanilla and half chocolate. It read, "The world will always welcome talent with open arms." Perfect...but vague.
You can only go halfway into the darkest forest; then you are coming out the other side
~ Chinese Proverb
Although it was a Chinese Restaurant, I was there to have Japanese Sashimi; my waitress, a pleasant college-aged young woman, was neither Chinese or Japanese -- she was from the Philippines. And, the music playing in the background, was a "smooth jazz" saxophone slurring "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." By the time I had finished my last morsel of pickled ginger, Frank Sinatra was kickin "New York, New York."
Aaaah, my Fortune Cookie -- half vanilla and half chocolate. It read, "The world will always welcome talent with open arms." Perfect...but vague.
You can only go halfway into the darkest forest; then you are coming out the other side
~ Chinese Proverb
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Fearing the "Plot Dump"
Even though my days seem full and the yard work that needs to be done is embarrassingly large, I still have found time to write a page of my third novel, pretty much every day. Much of what I am doing is "exposition" -- setting up characters or situations in the plot for later resolution and/or action.
Because this first chapter seems so long, I fear that I am guilty of a "plot dump," although I am hoping that it is really an "info dump," which is a less sneering appraisal. Here is an example of character dialogue one should avoid:
Joe: Who's at the door?
Mary: Oh, it's my uncle, who was released from prison yesterday after serving ten years for stealing the family jewels from this very house, although the jewels themselves have never been found and are rumored to be buried in a secret chamber guarded by the ghost of my late grandmother.*
* quoted from "the Free Dictionary by Farlex"
I have not re-read my writing so far, but ... could be. Let's hope for info dumping, instead of the above.
Because this first chapter seems so long, I fear that I am guilty of a "plot dump," although I am hoping that it is really an "info dump," which is a less sneering appraisal. Here is an example of character dialogue one should avoid:
Joe: Who's at the door?
Mary: Oh, it's my uncle, who was released from prison yesterday after serving ten years for stealing the family jewels from this very house, although the jewels themselves have never been found and are rumored to be buried in a secret chamber guarded by the ghost of my late grandmother.*
* quoted from "the Free Dictionary by Farlex"
I have not re-read my writing so far, but ... could be. Let's hope for info dumping, instead of the above.
Over 10,000 words and counting.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sippenhaft
Last evening, I watched "Valkyrie," starring Tom Cruise. Although I was aware of this unsuccessful 1944 attempt to assassinate Hitler -- headed by a Nazi military officer, Count Claus von Stauffenburg -- I wanted to see the dramatization of it to understand more about it, and also because I generally like Tom Cruise movies.
Count von Stauffenburg's plot was foiled and he was executed along with others involved in the event. I then wanted to know about the Count's wife, Nina Schenk Grafin von Stauffenburg, and what happened to her, after her husband's anti-Nazi treachery. They had four children when he was executed and his wife, Nina was pregnant with their fifth child, born after his death.
As the result of Count von Stauffenburg's failed attempt, his wife and family were subjected to "Sippenhaft." I didn't know this word, but it didn't sound good.
Sippenhaft means "bad blood" and/or "kin liability." It is an ancient concept that many other countries developed and used before the Nazis incorporated the practice into their laws. It is among the ways that the Nazis kept discipline in their country during the war, because if you were convicted of some heinous act -- treason, cowardice, espionage -- you could cause your family to be severely punished also, as a way of eliminating the "bad blood" in the perpetrator's lineage -- and the "bad blood" in future generations.
The rule of Sippenhaft exposed your family and extended family to horrible punishment -- perhaps even death -- as the result of your act. Count von Stauffenburg's wife, Nina, was arrested and imprisoned; her children were taken from her as the result of the Count's attempt on Hitler's life. Later, after the war, Nina was reunited with her children.
Nina von Stauffenburg never remarried and lived to the age of 92, passing away in 2006.
Nina Schenk and Claus von Stauffenburg in 1933. They were married two months after this picture was taken.
Count von Stauffenburg's plot was foiled and he was executed along with others involved in the event. I then wanted to know about the Count's wife, Nina Schenk Grafin von Stauffenburg, and what happened to her, after her husband's anti-Nazi treachery. They had four children when he was executed and his wife, Nina was pregnant with their fifth child, born after his death.
As the result of Count von Stauffenburg's failed attempt, his wife and family were subjected to "Sippenhaft." I didn't know this word, but it didn't sound good.
Sippenhaft means "bad blood" and/or "kin liability." It is an ancient concept that many other countries developed and used before the Nazis incorporated the practice into their laws. It is among the ways that the Nazis kept discipline in their country during the war, because if you were convicted of some heinous act -- treason, cowardice, espionage -- you could cause your family to be severely punished also, as a way of eliminating the "bad blood" in the perpetrator's lineage -- and the "bad blood" in future generations.
The rule of Sippenhaft exposed your family and extended family to horrible punishment -- perhaps even death -- as the result of your act. Count von Stauffenburg's wife, Nina, was arrested and imprisoned; her children were taken from her as the result of the Count's attempt on Hitler's life. Later, after the war, Nina was reunited with her children.
Nina von Stauffenburg never remarried and lived to the age of 92, passing away in 2006.
Nina Schenk and Claus von Stauffenburg in 1933. They were married two months after this picture was taken.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Today's Page of the Third Book
As the sun is shining but it is raining, I managed to write a page+ today. I am still on the first chapter -- 9,000 words, probably 30 book pages. I have used 6 Fleurons so far to indicate a passage of time. I'll reconsider this as a chapter when I re-read it, but for now, I am going on.
For your amusement, here is a part of what I wrote today -- totally out of context. It is a partial recounting of a Native American Flood Story:
Since we no longer have flooded earth, Eagle and Crow must have succeeded -- but not without conflict. I hope you have enjoyed this unedited snippet.
For your amusement, here is a part of what I wrote today -- totally out of context. It is a partial recounting of a Native American Flood Story:
One morning as Eagle and Crow awakened with the rising sun, they were surprised to find a Turtle swimming around their stump. With interest, Eagle and Crow watched as the Turtle disappeared under the water, out of sight, and then popped back up on the surface with a fish in his beak. Chewing and waving his head back and forth, the Turtle enjoyed his catch. The Turtle went down again. This time, when he returned, the Turtle had a fish AND mud in his mouth. Crow and Eagle looked at each other excitedly.
“Can we get Turtle to bring us dirt so that we can build land? How can we get Turtle to understand what we need him to do?”
Eagle had an idea which he explained to Crow. “Let us catch fish and give it to Turtle and when he understands maybe he will bring us mud for our land in exchange."
Over and over the two birds caught fish and laid it on the stump for Turtle. After time, Turtle began taking the fish, but still fished for himself. Sometimes when Turtle came to the surface, he had mud on him. Eagle with his long wings would scrape the mud off Turtle and place it on the stump. Through many attempts, Turtle finally understood that he could bring them mud and they would give him fish in return.
It was a long process, but they had nothing else to do, no place to go. Gradually, Crow had a pile of mud on his side of the stump and Eagle had a similar sized pile of mud on his side of the stump.
Turtle was a hard worker, keeping Crow and Eagle busy bringing fish to their side of the stump for Turtle, who seemed to be always hungry for more fish. Crow and Eagle shared the burden of feeding Turtle equally and each took their fair share of mud from Turtle, building more and more land beside their stump.To stretch their wings and to satisfy their curiosity, Eagle and Crow would sometimes fly out over the water to search for any signs of land. Nothing had changed, but they knew their mud piles were growing and that over time they would each have built a new world. “We will share our world, equally,” they agreed.
At their stump, their mud piles were growing everyday. Turtle was tireless in his muddy work and also tireless in his hunger for fish. One morning Eagle and Crow noticed a slight change in the waterline on their stump; the water was going down.
“The flood must be ending,” Eagle said excitedly and off he flew to survey the effects of the lowering waters.
Since we no longer have flooded earth, Eagle and Crow must have succeeded -- but not without conflict. I hope you have enjoyed this unedited snippet.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Where are the Jobs?
In 1983, I was functioning as Vice President of Broadcasting Operations at Warner-Amex Cable in Pittsburgh. It was the first interactive cable system built in a major city. Our cable engineers laid the most sophisticated two-way and fibre optic cable at the time; I could see instant ratings on channels because our system touched the set-top boxes every ten seconds. It was the cat's meow of cable then.
When we started building the plant in 1980, Warner and American Express in a joint venture borrowed $100 million dollars at the prevailing rate of interest at the time -- 18%. When Joan and I bought a house in Peters Township outside Pittsburgh, our interest rate was 16.5% Of my monthly check as VP, 42% went to the mortgage. Not a good arrangement.
In 1983, Warner-Amex sold the Pittsburgh Cable System to TCI and John Malone. While we were meeting our subscriber goals, we could not make enough money to survive and the 18% interest rate was at the heart of the problem.
As part of the sale agreement, TCI renegotiated the cable contract with the city and got rid of many onerous, but unprofitable provisions of the contract; much of the work and the work of my department was taken to a centralized office in Denver, and all of were terminated. For the first time in my life, I had no job!
I found myself standing in a line in Washington PA, seeking unemployment benefits. The line was long and very slow as each man or woman who sat down with a counselor had their life story to tell, or had to explain how their job search was going or what their options were when the unemployment compensation ran out.
It was depressing and scary to stand in that line. How many weeks would I have to come back here? How much time would I have to commit? (I had already been standing there for over an hour.) My successful self-image was shot down by standing in that line. So, I got out of line; I could not take the cross-currents of guilt and fear and failure that were washing over me.
I did find work, thanks to my friend, John Mullin, who hired me -- but I have never forgotten the feeling and the fear I felt while standing in that line.
Today, millions of our citizens are standing in that same unemployment line, each day, each week. Earlier this year, our Congress and our President, acting in our behalf, passed a "Stimulus Package" to fund shovel-ready projects and get people back to work.
In this era of having to do things so quickly that legislators haven't time to read what it is they are voting on, I ask -- where are the jobs? Why hasn't it been a priority to get the money flowing into the economy to fund small business opportunities and large projects?
Where are the jobs? Not ones that have been saved. New Jobs. Where are they? 9.8% of our citizens are unemployed. That is roughly 16,000,000 adults. What is the hold-up with getting the money to the projects? Where are the Jobs?
When we started building the plant in 1980, Warner and American Express in a joint venture borrowed $100 million dollars at the prevailing rate of interest at the time -- 18%. When Joan and I bought a house in Peters Township outside Pittsburgh, our interest rate was 16.5% Of my monthly check as VP, 42% went to the mortgage. Not a good arrangement.
In 1983, Warner-Amex sold the Pittsburgh Cable System to TCI and John Malone. While we were meeting our subscriber goals, we could not make enough money to survive and the 18% interest rate was at the heart of the problem.
As part of the sale agreement, TCI renegotiated the cable contract with the city and got rid of many onerous, but unprofitable provisions of the contract; much of the work and the work of my department was taken to a centralized office in Denver, and all of were terminated. For the first time in my life, I had no job!
I found myself standing in a line in Washington PA, seeking unemployment benefits. The line was long and very slow as each man or woman who sat down with a counselor had their life story to tell, or had to explain how their job search was going or what their options were when the unemployment compensation ran out.
It was depressing and scary to stand in that line. How many weeks would I have to come back here? How much time would I have to commit? (I had already been standing there for over an hour.) My successful self-image was shot down by standing in that line. So, I got out of line; I could not take the cross-currents of guilt and fear and failure that were washing over me.
I did find work, thanks to my friend, John Mullin, who hired me -- but I have never forgotten the feeling and the fear I felt while standing in that line.
Today, millions of our citizens are standing in that same unemployment line, each day, each week. Earlier this year, our Congress and our President, acting in our behalf, passed a "Stimulus Package" to fund shovel-ready projects and get people back to work.
In this era of having to do things so quickly that legislators haven't time to read what it is they are voting on, I ask -- where are the jobs? Why hasn't it been a priority to get the money flowing into the economy to fund small business opportunities and large projects?
Where are the jobs? Not ones that have been saved. New Jobs. Where are they? 9.8% of our citizens are unemployed. That is roughly 16,000,000 adults. What is the hold-up with getting the money to the projects? Where are the Jobs?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
One Page a Day
So far, I have been faithful to my goal of one page a day on my new novel. Today may be the first break, however, as my son and Grand Son are coming over for Dinner.
My son loves a good steak so I will be preparing pan seared, oven-finished Filet Mignon. My Grand Son, at age five, is a picky and difficult eater, but I know he likes French Fries and Applesauce -- favorites for Jason. A Garden Salad will also be offered. Oh, and for the toast -- Sparkling Apple Cider.
I believe in ceremony and tradition; they bind people together and create memories which can be carried around for a long time -- even for generations. I am hoping that Grand Son Jason remembers dinners at Grammy Joan and Grampy Ron's house.
I know that he looks forward to coming over here, but I am pretty sure his motive is ... Ice Cream (no sugar added) with sprinkles, which will be dessert. Now, that's his idea of a tradition!
“Science and technology revolutionize our lives,
but memory and tradition frame our response"
~ Arthur Schlesinger, Jr
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Hymns and their Stories
For the past 12 years, Joan and I have been presenting programs for churches and like organizations based on hymns and the stories behind them. This has been an interesting avocation -- and a joyful one -- since I am a singer and Joan is a talented pianist; additionally, hymns is an extension of my interest in history, which was my undergraduate degree.
Together, we have presented at over 110 churches and locations, ranging from the beaches of New Jerseys Shore to my birthplace, Scioto County Ohio. We have worked in auditoria, Sanctuaries, basements, and one of our favorite locations, a 1723 Barn turned Church.
Some churches want us to replace the sermon on Sunday, so we will present five hymns and stories; others want us to fill the whole morning service with music of the season, so we will present eight hymns. Organizations ask us to be their Holiday entertainment with a spiritual flavor and ask for a 45 minute program -- leaving time for Saint Nicholas' appearance.
Our busiest times of the year are Lent and Advent/Christmas. For the month of December this year, we have four bookings, calling for three different formats; one program will be repeated. I have begun working on these programs because of the lead time for us to rehearse and for me to organize and write the program into some sort of flow or theme, which is delightfully complicated by being invited back to a place and therefore not repeating what we did the last time we were there.
Among my favorite hymns of the season is "I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day." The text was written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1863 during the darkest part of the Civil War. Longfellow was the premier American poet of the 19th Century. The words that he strung together had a rhythm and a beat and a resonance that made them memorable:
"Listen My Children and You Shall Hear
of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.”
or
"By the Shores of Gitche Gumee,
by the shining Big-Sea Waters"
or
“ Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree
the Village Smithy Stands”
The year of 1863 had been a terrible year for Longfellow. His son, who had been in he war, was living now at home, recovering (but he never did) from a paralyzing wound. And in the summer of the year, Longfellow lost his beloved wife in a freak accident at home, a fire. Longfellow, himself, was badly burned trying to save her. Afterwards, he grew a beard to cover his burns.
And yet, the poetry flowed from him:
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to all.
Together, we have presented at over 110 churches and locations, ranging from the beaches of New Jerseys Shore to my birthplace, Scioto County Ohio. We have worked in auditoria, Sanctuaries, basements, and one of our favorite locations, a 1723 Barn turned Church.
Some churches want us to replace the sermon on Sunday, so we will present five hymns and stories; others want us to fill the whole morning service with music of the season, so we will present eight hymns. Organizations ask us to be their Holiday entertainment with a spiritual flavor and ask for a 45 minute program -- leaving time for Saint Nicholas' appearance.
Our busiest times of the year are Lent and Advent/Christmas. For the month of December this year, we have four bookings, calling for three different formats; one program will be repeated. I have begun working on these programs because of the lead time for us to rehearse and for me to organize and write the program into some sort of flow or theme, which is delightfully complicated by being invited back to a place and therefore not repeating what we did the last time we were there.
Among my favorite hymns of the season is "I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day." The text was written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1863 during the darkest part of the Civil War. Longfellow was the premier American poet of the 19th Century. The words that he strung together had a rhythm and a beat and a resonance that made them memorable:
"Listen My Children and You Shall Hear
of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.”
or
"By the Shores of Gitche Gumee,
by the shining Big-Sea Waters"
or
“ Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree
the Village Smithy Stands”
The year of 1863 had been a terrible year for Longfellow. His son, who had been in he war, was living now at home, recovering (but he never did) from a paralyzing wound. And in the summer of the year, Longfellow lost his beloved wife in a freak accident at home, a fire. Longfellow, himself, was badly burned trying to save her. Afterwards, he grew a beard to cover his burns.
And yet, the poetry flowed from him:
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to all.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
President Obama's Priorities. What are they?
After writing yesterday's blog article on Management by Objectives, I wondered what President Obama's Objectives are? What is the shorthand list in his billfold? What priority is given those objectives? Is it ...
- Health Care Reform
- The Afghanistan War
- The Economy
- Energy -- Current and Future
- Homeland Security
- Immigration Reform
If your order or your objectives are different, Mr. President, go ahead shuffle my list around.
Whatever the President's Priorities are regarding the major issues that he is spending his time on, shouldn't we -- the American People, the populace, the voting public, the tax-paying public, Democrats, Republicans, Independents, the multi-cultural employers of all politicians in Washington DC -- shouldn't we know what the President's Priorities are and in what order? Which one is most important? What is the next priority. The next one?
I don't want a speech. Please show me that President Obama is more than a gifted speech maker; besides, I've seen that.
I don't want generic statements that don't answer anything; I've heard enough of them from the Administration.
I don't want yet another appearance by the President on shows featuring NBC, CBS, and ABC anchors or late night hosts. I've seen that.
I don't want another Prime Time Press Conference/Joint Session of Congress appearance by the President. I've seen that.
I don't want to watch Robert Gibbs mesmerizing the White House Press Corps by massaging the answer from President Obama. I've seen that.
I don't want another Town Hall meeting arranged with school children/Firemen/Veterans/auto workers/immigrants/unemployed. I've seen that.
What do I want?
Give me the list of your priorities, Mr. President, printed in the newspapers -- not on the Internet -- officially from the President of the United States. Issue a Press Release that newspapers can print as is, with the same message and the same words on it, paper-to-paper, city-to-city, the same Press Release -- no chance for misstatements, no misunderstandings, no misinterpretation, no context, just a list. A one Page Press release -- ONE PAGE -- "The Priorities of the President of the United States." #1 is the most important; #2 next important, etc. It can be done in one page -- ONE PAGE. Sign it!
I pay my taxes. I always have. I deserve an answer; I want my answer. Show me and all Americans the list of your priorities, Mr. President.
Ronald D. Giles
One-a-Day
I have admired people who are so well-organized that the old saw "when you want something done, give it to a busy person" applies to them. I experienced this somewhat when I was working with Warner Cable and they instituted a Management by Objectives (MBO) program for its divisions. The division's objectives for the year/month dictated my objectives and those who reported to me, tied their objectives to mine. I won't bore you with the difference between Common Objectives and Special Cause Objectives, nor will I debate the merits of MBO versus modern quality management techniques, but I will say that I was organized--by day, by month and by the year.
After considering for a while, how I can manage promoting my current book, "Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense... ," work on creating four musical Advent Hymns and Carols programs, visit with Children and Grand Children, occasionally go shooting, write articles for this blog, perform routine maintenance on home and cars, pay attention to my wife, and write pages for my next book, finishing it by March of next year -- I have come to a conclusion.
I have decided to commit to the "one page a day" discipline of other writers. Name the time and get to it every day. Obviously, if you fulfilled this commitment, then one would complete a 365 page novel in 365 days. Of course, I might write eight or ten pages every so often, so maybe that works.
Truthfully, I don't set out to write a book of a certain length but rather let the story dictate the length. So writing for 365 days is arbitrary and it sounds long. If I think about it as writing a single page a day--400 words or so -- it sounds do-able. Yes I can, Yes I can, Yes I CAAAAN.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
~ Ernest Hemingway
After considering for a while, how I can manage promoting my current book, "Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense... ," work on creating four musical Advent Hymns and Carols programs, visit with Children and Grand Children, occasionally go shooting, write articles for this blog, perform routine maintenance on home and cars, pay attention to my wife, and write pages for my next book, finishing it by March of next year -- I have come to a conclusion.
I have decided to commit to the "one page a day" discipline of other writers. Name the time and get to it every day. Obviously, if you fulfilled this commitment, then one would complete a 365 page novel in 365 days. Of course, I might write eight or ten pages every so often, so maybe that works.
Truthfully, I don't set out to write a book of a certain length but rather let the story dictate the length. So writing for 365 days is arbitrary and it sounds long. If I think about it as writing a single page a day--400 words or so -- it sounds do-able. Yes I can, Yes I can, Yes I CAAAAN.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
~ Ernest Hemingway
Friday, October 2, 2009
Cheerleaders
Recently, Joan and I went to a High School Football Game and were struck by the contrast between today's game experience and those of our high school days. Yes, the players were big and strong; yes, the coach was fired up; yes, the stands were packed. That part was the same.
What was different were the cheerleaders. Joan pointed out to me that the Cheerleaders did not "lead" the crowd in cheers, but were rather putting on a show or a display with not many people, other than the parents of those involved, paying any attention to them. In a time out, the Cheerleaders would create a lift and then toss a young teenage girl around, but at the same time the announcer was loudly promoting the concession stand over the PA, the band was playing in the end zone and the people in the stands were talking and joking -- all while the Cheerleaders were tossing and catching.
What happened to the megaphones and the cheers that everyone in the stands joined in on and the Cheerleaders led?
Push'em back, Push'em back, waaaAAAAAYYYY BAAACK!
or 2-4-6-8. Who do we appreciate? The Tigers.The Tigers. The Tigers! YAAAAAAY
Or, when the game was firmly in your team's hands, the Cheerleaders would lead the crowd in
Warm up the buses, warm up the buses, cause weee win. Weee win. Weeeee WIN!
From Pittsburgh, my son-in-law reports this cheer from 20 years ago when the Cheerleaders would sassily put their hands on their hips and point their fingers at the opposing side and the partisan fans in the stands would follow them, standing up with their hands on their hips and pointing, cheering ...
U-G-L-Y.
You ain't got no alibi, cause you Ugly.
Whaaaat?
You Ugly.
Whaaat?
You Ugly. You Ugly. You UGLYYYYYYY!
Everybody on your side knew the cheers and all joined in; everybody on their side all knew their cheers and all joined in. It was fun and not mean-spirited. At some point, the opposing sides' Cheerleaders would come over to our side and lead a cheer.
Thank you for having us, thank you for having us. Yaaay. Yaaay. YAAAYYY!
And we would applaud and they would strike a pose, shake their pom poms and then run back to their side, while all the people on our side would talk about them ("our girls are better looking," or "their outfits stink"or "I think there was something living in that blonde's hair.")
I appreciate the athleticism of today's Cheerleaders and their skill at lifting and holding and climbing and falling, but they are really not leading the crowd in "Cheers." Rather, they are ... well, performers. Nothing wrong with that, really. I... just prefer Cheerleaders.
"I guess he's simply becoming an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls."
Kurt Vonnegut, "The Slaughterhouse-Five," 1966
What was different were the cheerleaders. Joan pointed out to me that the Cheerleaders did not "lead" the crowd in cheers, but were rather putting on a show or a display with not many people, other than the parents of those involved, paying any attention to them. In a time out, the Cheerleaders would create a lift and then toss a young teenage girl around, but at the same time the announcer was loudly promoting the concession stand over the PA, the band was playing in the end zone and the people in the stands were talking and joking -- all while the Cheerleaders were tossing and catching.
What happened to the megaphones and the cheers that everyone in the stands joined in on and the Cheerleaders led?
Push'em back, Push'em back, waaaAAAAAYYYY BAAACK!
or 2-4-6-8. Who do we appreciate? The Tigers.The Tigers. The Tigers! YAAAAAAY
Or, when the game was firmly in your team's hands, the Cheerleaders would lead the crowd in
Warm up the buses, warm up the buses, cause weee win. Weee win. Weeeee WIN!
From Pittsburgh, my son-in-law reports this cheer from 20 years ago when the Cheerleaders would sassily put their hands on their hips and point their fingers at the opposing side and the partisan fans in the stands would follow them, standing up with their hands on their hips and pointing, cheering ...
U-G-L-Y.
You ain't got no alibi, cause you Ugly.
Whaaaat?
You Ugly.
Whaaat?
You Ugly. You Ugly. You UGLYYYYYYY!
Everybody on your side knew the cheers and all joined in; everybody on their side all knew their cheers and all joined in. It was fun and not mean-spirited. At some point, the opposing sides' Cheerleaders would come over to our side and lead a cheer.
Thank you for having us, thank you for having us. Yaaay. Yaaay. YAAAYYY!
And we would applaud and they would strike a pose, shake their pom poms and then run back to their side, while all the people on our side would talk about them ("our girls are better looking," or "their outfits stink"or "I think there was something living in that blonde's hair.")
I appreciate the athleticism of today's Cheerleaders and their skill at lifting and holding and climbing and falling, but they are really not leading the crowd in "Cheers." Rather, they are ... well, performers. Nothing wrong with that, really. I... just prefer Cheerleaders.
"I guess he's simply becoming an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls."
Kurt Vonnegut, "The Slaughterhouse-Five," 1966
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Squirrel Stew
I have been reading other Author's blogs. I suspect that secretly, I am seeking sympathy while remaining anonymous. I have the urge to write, but I find other things that need to be done or things that I want to do and move them up on my list, pushing writing down; I have always been undisciplined.
Today, I am going shooting -- Sporting Clays. It may surprise some of you to find that I own and use guns. I grew up in a family where both my mother and father knew how to hunt; squirrel and rabbit stew were dishes my mother would prepare in the fall and winter of the year. Here is a short excerpt from my first book, "On Harrisonville Avenue."
My Dad loved to hunt and would take me with him. Mother would come too, sometimes, but stay in the car and listen to the radio and crochet.
Into the Bond Woods in September to hunt squirrels we would go,
tiptoeing quietly, avoiding sticks that would break or kicking dry leaves. Dad had a 12 gauge L.C. Smith double barrel shotgun; I was the spotter and retriever, since Dad’s eyes weren’t that good.
On one warm fall afternoon, Dad shot at three squirrels with 4 shells and didn’t hit one of them. As we were walking back, we were remarking nevertheless how good it was to be in the woods and breathing the fresh air. When we got back to the car, the trunk was open.
“Did you get anything?” Mother said cheerfully.
“No, but we scared three of them” said Dad as he looked in the trunk.
There was Mother’s Winchester 22 pump rifle and a dead squirrel.
“Dagnabbit, Gladys. Did you shoot this Squirrel ? “ Dad
sputtered.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, Paul,” said Mother.
“He sat there on the side of the tree and practically invited
himself to dinner.” And she chuckled and Dad laughed.
We had squirrel stew the next night.
Normally, it takes about one squirrel per person for a meal, but mother had ways of "extending" a dish when the situation called for it; mostly, her extensions meant adding more potatoes.
She would also add some canned corn. Of course, there were "scratchy" biscuits with her stews.
Ahhhh ... how easily I get distracted. I almost went for the recipe, but who among you needs a Squirrel Stew recipe?
So today, I will go shooting Sporting Clays with a friend from New Jersey. My guns are shotguns of all gauges; today calls for the Browning 12 gauge over and under. Or ... maybe I'll take the 16 gauge -- like the one Dad gave me.
Writing can wait until tomorrow, while I enjoy this day.
Today, I am going shooting -- Sporting Clays. It may surprise some of you to find that I own and use guns. I grew up in a family where both my mother and father knew how to hunt; squirrel and rabbit stew were dishes my mother would prepare in the fall and winter of the year. Here is a short excerpt from my first book, "On Harrisonville Avenue."
My Dad loved to hunt and would take me with him. Mother would come too, sometimes, but stay in the car and listen to the radio and crochet.
Into the Bond Woods in September to hunt squirrels we would go,
tiptoeing quietly, avoiding sticks that would break or kicking dry leaves. Dad had a 12 gauge L.C. Smith double barrel shotgun; I was the spotter and retriever, since Dad’s eyes weren’t that good.
On one warm fall afternoon, Dad shot at three squirrels with 4 shells and didn’t hit one of them. As we were walking back, we were remarking nevertheless how good it was to be in the woods and breathing the fresh air. When we got back to the car, the trunk was open.
“Did you get anything?” Mother said cheerfully.
“No, but we scared three of them” said Dad as he looked in the trunk.
There was Mother’s Winchester 22 pump rifle and a dead squirrel.
“Dagnabbit, Gladys. Did you shoot this Squirrel ? “ Dad
sputtered.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, Paul,” said Mother.
“He sat there on the side of the tree and practically invited
himself to dinner.” And she chuckled and Dad laughed.
We had squirrel stew the next night.
Normally, it takes about one squirrel per person for a meal, but mother had ways of "extending" a dish when the situation called for it; mostly, her extensions meant adding more potatoes.
She would also add some canned corn. Of course, there were "scratchy" biscuits with her stews.
Ahhhh ... how easily I get distracted. I almost went for the recipe, but who among you needs a Squirrel Stew recipe?
So today, I will go shooting Sporting Clays with a friend from New Jersey. My guns are shotguns of all gauges; today calls for the Browning 12 gauge over and under. Or ... maybe I'll take the 16 gauge -- like the one Dad gave me.
Writing can wait until tomorrow, while I enjoy this day.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
What Am I Missing?
Roman Polanski raped, sodomized and introduced a 13 year old girl to drugs and alcohol so that he -- at age 44 -- could be... well, Roman Polanski. He's a great film director and that's why we should say his unpunished behaviour is OK?
I don't think so.
For some who embrace the moral relativity of today, it's "aw, c'mon (pick one -- the guy's over 70, or he directed "The Pianist," or he's an artist,or it was a long time ago, get over it). Bull. He committed a crime against us all. When we allow that, it diminishes each of us.
And now, the self-absorbed Woody Allen comes to the defense of Polanski. Perfect. Lest we forget, Allen in essence began dating his own stepdaughter, Sun Yi-Previn, whom he had functioned as a Father to from the time she was seven. The fact that he is married to her now does not excuse Mr. Allen's behaviour, but it does help explain his support of Polanski.
Many in Hollywood and New York may wag their heads in support of Polanski, but society needs to stand up and call things wrong when they are just plain wrong. "No harm, no foul" does not apply in cases like this.
I don't think so.
For some who embrace the moral relativity of today, it's "aw, c'mon (pick one -- the guy's over 70, or he directed "The Pianist," or he's an artist,or it was a long time ago, get over it). Bull. He committed a crime against us all. When we allow that, it diminishes each of us.
And now, the self-absorbed Woody Allen comes to the defense of Polanski. Perfect. Lest we forget, Allen in essence began dating his own stepdaughter, Sun Yi-Previn, whom he had functioned as a Father to from the time she was seven. The fact that he is married to her now does not excuse Mr. Allen's behaviour, but it does help explain his support of Polanski.
Many in Hollywood and New York may wag their heads in support of Polanski, but society needs to stand up and call things wrong when they are just plain wrong. "No harm, no foul" does not apply in cases like this.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Praying Mantis
The office in our home is where Joan and I spend most of our time during the day. My computer and I face the wall where there are two windows that look out upon our lawn and three of the six other houses in our neighborhood. The windows provide a lot of entertainment because of the animals that pass by them -- squirrels, rabbits, cats, deer, spiders, bees, hummingbirds, song birds, and recently -- a Praying Mantis.
The Mantis (a female, judging by the large size) has apparently found the hunting in our rose bushes to be profitable. She blends perfectly with the leaves and stems of the bush, even when she strikes the characteristic front legs up "praying" position.
As a species, the Praying Mantis is carnivorous and will eat anything, but mostly crickets, flies and grasshoppers. In turn, they are preyed upon by bats and birds.
They have some interesting behaviours and abilities. Their heads can rotate 180 degrees, and with three eyes, they can spot movement up to 60 feet away. Perhaps their most unusual behaviour -- and for which they are known -- is that the female will eat the male either during or immediately after mating!
Even knowing this, the male goes for it. I'll let the reader supply your own last line here.
The Mantis (a female, judging by the large size) has apparently found the hunting in our rose bushes to be profitable. She blends perfectly with the leaves and stems of the bush, even when she strikes the characteristic front legs up "praying" position.
As a species, the Praying Mantis is carnivorous and will eat anything, but mostly crickets, flies and grasshoppers. In turn, they are preyed upon by bats and birds.
They have some interesting behaviours and abilities. Their heads can rotate 180 degrees, and with three eyes, they can spot movement up to 60 feet away. Perhaps their most unusual behaviour -- and for which they are known -- is that the female will eat the male either during or immediately after mating!
Even knowing this, the male goes for it. I'll let the reader supply your own last line here.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Third Novel
I have not written for the past week or so as I have been concentrating on marketing the newest work, "Cottonwood Pass." Chapter one in the new book is becoming a hurdle and will be much longer than I had anticipated. It is now over 6500 words and has several scenes in it.
Part of the slowness of the process is that as I am writing, what I write causes me to stop and research the Hopewell Culture. The nature and habits of Freshwater Mussels halted me last. A statement in one of the archaeological references I have, noted that one mound, probably of the Fort Ancient peoples, contained a great number of freshwater pearls which seemed to me to be astounding. So, off I went trying to find freshwater biologists and malacologists who could answer questions about harvesting, eating mussels, shell uses, etc.; writing stopped.
The second novel has also consumed me -- with marketing it. I have been around marketing since the early 70's but I never quite "got it." Now, I am finding out the hard way. The latest revelation -- there is no way to track whether or not a post card was delivered and ended up in the hands of the right person!
Right now, I would rather retreat to the comfortable isolation of my thoughts and the keyboard and let the second book flounder on its own on Amazon. Oh, wait! Here is Powell's Book's requirements for self-published authors.
Part of the slowness of the process is that as I am writing, what I write causes me to stop and research the Hopewell Culture. The nature and habits of Freshwater Mussels halted me last. A statement in one of the archaeological references I have, noted that one mound, probably of the Fort Ancient peoples, contained a great number of freshwater pearls which seemed to me to be astounding. So, off I went trying to find freshwater biologists and malacologists who could answer questions about harvesting, eating mussels, shell uses, etc.; writing stopped.
The second novel has also consumed me -- with marketing it. I have been around marketing since the early 70's but I never quite "got it." Now, I am finding out the hard way. The latest revelation -- there is no way to track whether or not a post card was delivered and ended up in the hands of the right person!
Right now, I would rather retreat to the comfortable isolation of my thoughts and the keyboard and let the second book flounder on its own on Amazon. Oh, wait! Here is Powell's Book's requirements for self-published authors.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Coins
I was sorting through some old coins from a friend who asked me to look at them. The one I went to first was one I had not seen before -- a Quarter Eagle, worth $2.50 or one fourth of an Eagle, a $10 dollar coin. This series of gold coins has the image impressed into the gold rather than raised and this particular one is very small -- smaller than a dime.
She also showed me another coin I had never seen or held before. It was a half-dollar from the early 1800's, called a Capped Bust Liberty coin.
Finally, another coin I had not held -- an 1891 Seated Liberty Quarter.
I looked closely at them, using a magnifying glass to bring out detail that my progressive lenses didn't. There were symbols and words on them ...
... Stars, thirteen of them for the founding states.
... The Eagle's breastplate shield has thirteen stripes.
... In the 19th Century coins, the Eagle held both arrows and an olive branch in his talons, but his head was favoring the olive branch.
... In the 20th Century coin, the Eagle is only holding an olive branch.
... The slogan "E Pluribus Unum" -- out of many, one -- is on each coin
... The slogan "In God We Trust" went on coins first during the Civil War, and is on the latter two coins here.
... Lastly "Liberty" is on every coin.
I worry about our country and pray that we can still feel and appreciate those words and symbols in our divisive world today!
She also showed me another coin I had never seen or held before. It was a half-dollar from the early 1800's, called a Capped Bust Liberty coin.
Finally, another coin I had not held -- an 1891 Seated Liberty Quarter.
I looked closely at them, using a magnifying glass to bring out detail that my progressive lenses didn't. There were symbols and words on them ...
... Stars, thirteen of them for the founding states.
... The Eagle's breastplate shield has thirteen stripes.
... In the 19th Century coins, the Eagle held both arrows and an olive branch in his talons, but his head was favoring the olive branch.
... In the 20th Century coin, the Eagle is only holding an olive branch.
... The slogan "E Pluribus Unum" -- out of many, one -- is on each coin
... The slogan "In God We Trust" went on coins first during the Civil War, and is on the latter two coins here.
... Lastly "Liberty" is on every coin.
I worry about our country and pray that we can still feel and appreciate those words and symbols in our divisive world today!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Farewell Toast to Amy and James
Some have asked about the toast I offered to Amy and James at their going away bash on Saturday, September 19, prior to their leaving for Thailand. It was a restatement of the old Gaelic Blessing:
"Amy and James --
The wine of today may dry
and the flowers of today may die,
but friends never say goodbye,
only 'Farewell.'
May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again,
And until we meet again,
Take a part of us with you on your journey,
And we will hold you in our hearts,
Until we can hold you in our arms,
Again.
Farewell...
Bon Voyage...
Cheers !
Cheers !!
CHEERS !!!"
"Amy and James --
The wine of today may dry
and the flowers of today may die,
but friends never say goodbye,
only 'Farewell.'
May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again,
And until we meet again,
Take a part of us with you on your journey,
And we will hold you in our hearts,
Until we can hold you in our arms,
Again.
Farewell...
Bon Voyage...
Cheers !
Cheers !!
CHEERS !!!"
Friday, September 18, 2009
A Weekend in PGH
We are visiting our daughter and her family and will attend the Bon Voyage Party for our Niece and her boyfriend who have accepted teaching positions at a University in Bangkok, Thailand. Amy has also been named second Oboe in the Thailand National Philharmonic Orchestra.
I will offer a Farewell Toast, using a variation of the Irish Blessing that I wrote.
It is also our Grand Daughter Morgan's 11th Birthday. Tempus Fugit. We take her to her favorite restaurant, The Hibachi Grille, and then on to the High School where she and her fellow elementary school cheerleaders will join the high school cheerleaders at the football game tonight. I'll be the proud Grandfather in the stands!
I will offer a Farewell Toast, using a variation of the Irish Blessing that I wrote.
It is also our Grand Daughter Morgan's 11th Birthday. Tempus Fugit. We take her to her favorite restaurant, The Hibachi Grille, and then on to the High School where she and her fellow elementary school cheerleaders will join the high school cheerleaders at the football game tonight. I'll be the proud Grandfather in the stands!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
"Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense ... " is available!!!
Last night, I checked and there it was on Amazon.com. For something that started last June with a spurious direction from "Jill" our Garmin GPS, this is fulfilling.
By clicking on the Book's Cover on the right of my Blog, you will be directed to the Amazon page.
In the meantime, here is the story behind the writing of "Cottonwood Pass."
***************************
The story behind the writing of "Cottonwood Pass"
Joan and I were touring the Rocky Mountains in Colorado (2008) and had earlier visited Aspen. We were headed north to Interstate 70 when our GPS commanded "in nine-tenths of a mile, turn RIGHT onto C-ought-unwod-Paas Rode." Joan and I both knew that this was not the major way to get to I-70, but we had trusted "Jill" (our name for the female voice coming with the Garmin) on many other occasions and she had always gotten us there through some shortcut, so OK. I took a right turn at the town of El Jebel onto Cottonwood Pass Road.
The road was a two lane affair that took us through a well-kept neighborhood; soon, the houses were far apart and the scenery was stunning. We were probably about 6500 feet when we left El Jebel, but now we were climbing higher past beautiful houses, built to capture the view.
The name "Cottonwood Pass" indicated that we were going to ascend a mountain and then "pass" over it easily which we were prepared to do, but when the road turned from asphalt to gravel, I became a little concerned. And then, when the road became narrow and rutted as we went up the side of the mountain, my radar was on full alert, even though we were in a Jeep Commander.
My full alert radar went to DEFCON 1 as Cottonwood Pass Road became one lane and steep, as I picked my way slowly around large rocks that had washed down the ruts in the snowmelt.
What happens if we meet another car coming the other way? What happens if I have a Heart Attack? Who would find us in this wilderness if we slid off the road?
I looked at my cell phone. NO SERVICE! That was it. I stopped and announced that we were going no further. Joan would not accept that we could not make it over the Pass and so she walked up to the next curve and disappeared around its bend. Returning, she reported that the road disappeared over the side of the mountain; we had to turn around.
Carefully executing a 23-point turn in a not-so-wide spot near us, I shifted gears to low as we crept back down Cottonwood Pass Road, not wanting to cause another landslide. As we crunched our way down the incline, my imagination began piecing together a fictional story about someone who did slide off the mountain. Was he injured? Did he have wilderness skills? Would he die? Was he murdered? Who found him? Why was he killed?
When we got home, I jotted down some notes. In the fall, some four months later, I began working on:
"Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense…"
RDG
To find out who Theodore Thompson is,
you will have to read the book.
It’s complicated.
By clicking on the Book's Cover on the right of my Blog, you will be directed to the Amazon page.
In the meantime, here is the story behind the writing of "Cottonwood Pass."
***************************
The story behind the writing of "Cottonwood Pass"
Joan and I were touring the Rocky Mountains in Colorado (2008) and had earlier visited Aspen. We were headed north to Interstate 70 when our GPS commanded "in nine-tenths of a mile, turn RIGHT onto C-ought-unwod-Paas Rode." Joan and I both knew that this was not the major way to get to I-70, but we had trusted "Jill" (our name for the female voice coming with the Garmin) on many other occasions and she had always gotten us there through some shortcut, so OK. I took a right turn at the town of El Jebel onto Cottonwood Pass Road.
The road was a two lane affair that took us through a well-kept neighborhood; soon, the houses were far apart and the scenery was stunning. We were probably about 6500 feet when we left El Jebel, but now we were climbing higher past beautiful houses, built to capture the view.
The name "Cottonwood Pass" indicated that we were going to ascend a mountain and then "pass" over it easily which we were prepared to do, but when the road turned from asphalt to gravel, I became a little concerned. And then, when the road became narrow and rutted as we went up the side of the mountain, my radar was on full alert, even though we were in a Jeep Commander.
My full alert radar went to DEFCON 1 as Cottonwood Pass Road became one lane and steep, as I picked my way slowly around large rocks that had washed down the ruts in the snowmelt.
What happens if we meet another car coming the other way? What happens if I have a Heart Attack? Who would find us in this wilderness if we slid off the road?
I looked at my cell phone. NO SERVICE! That was it. I stopped and announced that we were going no further. Joan would not accept that we could not make it over the Pass and so she walked up to the next curve and disappeared around its bend. Returning, she reported that the road disappeared over the side of the mountain; we had to turn around.
Carefully executing a 23-point turn in a not-so-wide spot near us, I shifted gears to low as we crept back down Cottonwood Pass Road, not wanting to cause another landslide. As we crunched our way down the incline, my imagination began piecing together a fictional story about someone who did slide off the mountain. Was he injured? Did he have wilderness skills? Would he die? Was he murdered? Who found him? Why was he killed?
When we got home, I jotted down some notes. In the fall, some four months later, I began working on:
"Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense…"
RDG
To find out who Theodore Thompson is,
you will have to read the book.
It’s complicated.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
About Playing the Violin
On the blog today, I thought I would share some one-liners (mainly about violinists) sent to me by my friend, Cliff Benham
***********************************
"When it starts getting tough, make faces." Itzhak Perlman
Anne-Sophie Mutter's disparaging remark...During a rehearsal of the Brahms violin concerto with the Boston Symphony, directed towards the violin section: "You sound like dogs."
"Pay no attention to what the critics say; no statue has ever been putup to a critic." Jean Sibelius
There are more bad musicians than there is bad music." Isaac Stern
Bach: "It's easy to play any musical instrument -- All you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will playitself"
Jack Benny: "I don't deserve this award, but I have arthritis and I don't deserve that either."
After he played a benefit concert at Carnegie Hall the NY Times music critic wrote, "Last night in Carnegie Hall, Jack Benny played Beethoven. Beethoven lost.
"Ruggiero Ricci: "An expert is someone who does everything else worse."
Dr. Albert Schweitzer (musician/explorer / physician/ missionary, etc.):"There are two refuges from the miseries of life--music and cats."
And how can we leave this list without that great violinist, HennyYoungman: "I've got all the money I'll ever need, if I die by four o'clock."
From a photo of a t-shirt worn by Zukerman: "I play with vibrato and do slides in Baroque Music. Deal with it."
Ricci, on the subject of playing the way he likes, rather than by some arbritary rules: "Now, I will play the way I like. Better to be a prostitute than a nun."
Heifetz: " If I don't practice for one day, I'll know it. If I don'tpractice for two days, the critics will know it. If I don't practice for three days, the whole public will know it."
Heifetz when asked about how he never messes up with intonation "I do not always play in tune, I just fix it quicker than anyone else."
"I occasionally play works by contemporary composers for two reasons.First to discourage the composer from writing any more and secondly to remind myself how much I appreciate Beethoven." -Heifetz
"Wagner was a musician who wrote music that is much better than it sounds." - Mark Twain
"That reminds me, I'm playing a concert tonight." -Fritz Kreisler, afterseeing a row of fish at a market...
Fritz Reiner: "It's not true that I hate musicians. I just hate BAAAAAAD musicians."
"You may be ready for Beethoven, but Beethoven is not ready for you!" ~Heifetz as guest soloist with a less-than-steller orchestra.
Brahms (to Eugene Ysaye after hearing Ysaye play the Brahms Concerto):"So, it can be played that way, too."
Henry Meyer (LaSalle String Quartet):"You paid for the whole bow, you will use the whole bow."
I think I prefer the Heifetz method of producing a twelve inch bow and offering it to the student because the current one is far too long...
"I'm one of the boys, no better than the last second violinist. I'm just the lucky one to be standing in the center, telling them how to play."- Eugene Ormandy
Albert Einstein, after playing the first movement of Schubert's String Quintet, in America: "Kid, ist das nicht wunderbar?"
***********************************
"When it starts getting tough, make faces." Itzhak Perlman
Anne-Sophie Mutter's disparaging remark...During a rehearsal of the Brahms violin concerto with the Boston Symphony, directed towards the violin section: "You sound like dogs."
"Pay no attention to what the critics say; no statue has ever been putup to a critic." Jean Sibelius
There are more bad musicians than there is bad music." Isaac Stern
Bach: "It's easy to play any musical instrument -- All you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will playitself"
Jack Benny: "I don't deserve this award, but I have arthritis and I don't deserve that either."
After he played a benefit concert at Carnegie Hall the NY Times music critic wrote, "Last night in Carnegie Hall, Jack Benny played Beethoven. Beethoven lost.
"Ruggiero Ricci: "An expert is someone who does everything else worse."
Dr. Albert Schweitzer (musician/explorer / physician/ missionary, etc.):"There are two refuges from the miseries of life--music and cats."
And how can we leave this list without that great violinist, HennyYoungman: "I've got all the money I'll ever need, if I die by four o'clock."
From a photo of a t-shirt worn by Zukerman: "I play with vibrato and do slides in Baroque Music. Deal with it."
Ricci, on the subject of playing the way he likes, rather than by some arbritary rules: "Now, I will play the way I like. Better to be a prostitute than a nun."
Heifetz: " If I don't practice for one day, I'll know it. If I don'tpractice for two days, the critics will know it. If I don't practice for three days, the whole public will know it."
Heifetz when asked about how he never messes up with intonation "I do not always play in tune, I just fix it quicker than anyone else."
"I occasionally play works by contemporary composers for two reasons.First to discourage the composer from writing any more and secondly to remind myself how much I appreciate Beethoven." -Heifetz
"Wagner was a musician who wrote music that is much better than it sounds." - Mark Twain
"That reminds me, I'm playing a concert tonight." -Fritz Kreisler, afterseeing a row of fish at a market...
Fritz Reiner: "It's not true that I hate musicians. I just hate BAAAAAAD musicians."
"You may be ready for Beethoven, but Beethoven is not ready for you!" ~Heifetz as guest soloist with a less-than-steller orchestra.
Brahms (to Eugene Ysaye after hearing Ysaye play the Brahms Concerto):"So, it can be played that way, too."
Henry Meyer (LaSalle String Quartet):"You paid for the whole bow, you will use the whole bow."
I think I prefer the Heifetz method of producing a twelve inch bow and offering it to the student because the current one is far too long...
"I'm one of the boys, no better than the last second violinist. I'm just the lucky one to be standing in the center, telling them how to play."- Eugene Ormandy
Albert Einstein, after playing the first movement of Schubert's String Quintet, in America: "Kid, ist das nicht wunderbar?"
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