Rain is coming down hard outside as I lounge in bed feeling weary from a respiratory illness. Cody and Maureen have been staying with us for a week that included Christmas and the division I college football semifinal games. LSU demolished Oklahoma in the first one yesterday much to the delight o fTiger fans everywhere. They will face Clemson, who eked out a win over Ohio State last night, on January 13 in New Orleans. I'm committee to play music at two New Year's Eve gatherings and Georgia will play Baylor in the Sugar Bowl on January 1.
I feel largely indifferent to all of the above happenings. Being ill always feeds into my dysthymic tendencies. I'm tired of having only blurry vision in my left eye almost a year after detached retina was diagnosed.Still, I look at things objectively and recognize I've pretty much got it made as far as the rest of my life goes. I can go through the motions of eating, sleeping, paying bills, being kind to my family and friends, posting clever posts on Facebook and Instagram, and doing as I please with no worries about running out of money or being homeless. I can write and record songs, perform at local open mic venues, take trips to anywhere on earth if I want to, get first class medical care, read or watch any book or movie or TV show or whatever I wish to as my physical self deteriorates slowly or until my life is ended by an unexpected stroke of Fate. I will be surprised if my consciousness and identity endure pst the end of my body's life but we'll see. Deeper down, I do care and I want to use my time and talents and resources to help my species as individuals and a whole.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Thursday, December 26, 2019
Christmas Message to my Facebook Friends
Greetings of the Season, good people!
The traditions of Christmas in the USA I grew up with and have taken part in over the years are a significant part of who I am. Today, at the age of 67, I found myself reflecting on what Christmas means to me now and I decided to write down some of my thoughts and share them here. No doubt Christmas means many different things to different ones among you, my diverse network of Facebook friends.
What the following paragraphs contain are just my reflections, ideas drawn from my experiences and readings that perhaps could be food for thought to those so inclined. I read your posts and realize you don't all think the same way and believe the same things. Some of you claim the Christian faith while some are proud to be atheists. Some of you profess another of the world's religious faiths such as Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism or Islam and some have your own personal spiritual beliefs and practices outside of any established faith community. Some of you think that religion is a major cause of our social and geo-political ills and that we'd all be better off without it. Some of you love everything about the Christmas season from the traditions of your family to the shopping and gift-giving, the manger scenes and lighting of candles in your churches, and the endless rounds of Christmas songs, spiritual and secular, old and new. Others of you detest the commercialization of Christmas and lament that people seem to have lost the original meaning of the celebration. Then again, you may not care about any of this or you may think everyone who doesn't believe as you do is going to Hell, Christmas or no Christmas.
Whatever you may believe, I accept all of you as you are and do not presume to tell you what you should believe or feel about Christmas or religion or God. For that matter, I'm not interested in being told what I should feel or believe, either, so please don't go there (and, If you do go there, I will delete your comment!). However, please feel free to fact check me on what I say below if you wish and correct anything you believe I got wrong.
When it comes to Christmas, if you put all of the differences of belief to the side, don't trouble your mind with sophisticated theological arguments, and simply read what is written in any reputable translation of the New Testament books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (or in the original languages if you happen to be a scholar), I think you will see that the man English-speakers like me call Jesus taught love for all of humanity, that we are all brothers and sisters. He told his followers to renounce their attachment to the transient wealth, privileges, social status, and pleasures of the world, to renounce violence and revenge, to be humble like a small child, to pray for and forgive their enemies. He said his followers shouldn't concern themselves with who got to sit in the most prestigious spots in Heaven, that "the first shall be last and the last shall be first." He told his disciples that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to those who are "poor in spirit" and that "the meek shall inherit the earth." He taught that whatever you fail to do for anyone in need, especially "the least of your brothers," you fail to do to for him; and, likewise, whatever you do for anyone in need, you do for him. He said we should not judge others but should be ever mindful of our own thoughts and actions. Jesus taught that if you follow his teachings and put your trust in the creator, who he said loves you more than even the best mother or father, you would not need to worry about what happens to you in this life or what comes afterwards because you will be taken care of. He taught that the birth of a child is the hope of humanity. He exhorted his disciples to "follow me" and demonstrated what that meant by willingly sacrificing his life for them and for all.
To my mind in light of my life experience, these teachings hang together and make sense. They make more sense to me than trying to figure out exactly what we need to believe in order to get rewarded and to avoid being punished after we die, which we all will soon enough. If we think endorsing the correct belief on the basis of someone's authoritative interpretation is the truly important thing, we may well think that following the teachings about the way we should live is not so important. We might then slip into rationalizing that it's safe to blow off the practical teachings because our adherence to the correct formula of belief is the ticket to eternal bliss that will nullify our less than conscientious efforts to follow the words and example of the teacher. We might continue to prioritize acquiring wealth, status, and power and to continue thinking I and people like me are better and more deserving of wealth, status, and power than people who look, talk, live and believe differently than us and that those others don't really count so it's OK not to care about their lives and well-being. We might even rationalize that it's OK to be dishonest and hypocritical in our public lives as long as we endorse the beliefs that will get us past St. Peter when we arrive at the gate.
Assuming I'm not too far off in my understanding of what Jesus said we ought to do in this life, I wonder what our world could be like if we all reflected on the Christmas story of his humble origins, considered the wisdom of his teachings as they have come down to us, took to heart his guidance on how to be, and did our best to live accordingly? As a man who was brought up in the Methodist Church with the humble example of faith set by my mother and my older sister, Anne, that's what Christmas means to me, that there's hope for all of us, even the smallest and the least of our brothers and sisters, that how we view and treat one another, even ourselves, and how we live is what counts, in short, that we should love one another "the way I loved you" and have faith that everything will be ok. I wonder...
Wishing to each of you and to everyone everywhere a spirit of love and goodwill, I am:
Yours truly,
Owen
The traditions of Christmas in the USA I grew up with and have taken part in over the years are a significant part of who I am. Today, at the age of 67, I found myself reflecting on what Christmas means to me now and I decided to write down some of my thoughts and share them here. No doubt Christmas means many different things to different ones among you, my diverse network of Facebook friends.
What the following paragraphs contain are just my reflections, ideas drawn from my experiences and readings that perhaps could be food for thought to those so inclined. I read your posts and realize you don't all think the same way and believe the same things. Some of you claim the Christian faith while some are proud to be atheists. Some of you profess another of the world's religious faiths such as Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism or Islam and some have your own personal spiritual beliefs and practices outside of any established faith community. Some of you think that religion is a major cause of our social and geo-political ills and that we'd all be better off without it. Some of you love everything about the Christmas season from the traditions of your family to the shopping and gift-giving, the manger scenes and lighting of candles in your churches, and the endless rounds of Christmas songs, spiritual and secular, old and new. Others of you detest the commercialization of Christmas and lament that people seem to have lost the original meaning of the celebration. Then again, you may not care about any of this or you may think everyone who doesn't believe as you do is going to Hell, Christmas or no Christmas.
Whatever you may believe, I accept all of you as you are and do not presume to tell you what you should believe or feel about Christmas or religion or God. For that matter, I'm not interested in being told what I should feel or believe, either, so please don't go there (and, If you do go there, I will delete your comment!). However, please feel free to fact check me on what I say below if you wish and correct anything you believe I got wrong.
When it comes to Christmas, if you put all of the differences of belief to the side, don't trouble your mind with sophisticated theological arguments, and simply read what is written in any reputable translation of the New Testament books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (or in the original languages if you happen to be a scholar), I think you will see that the man English-speakers like me call Jesus taught love for all of humanity, that we are all brothers and sisters. He told his followers to renounce their attachment to the transient wealth, privileges, social status, and pleasures of the world, to renounce violence and revenge, to be humble like a small child, to pray for and forgive their enemies. He said his followers shouldn't concern themselves with who got to sit in the most prestigious spots in Heaven, that "the first shall be last and the last shall be first." He told his disciples that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to those who are "poor in spirit" and that "the meek shall inherit the earth." He taught that whatever you fail to do for anyone in need, especially "the least of your brothers," you fail to do to for him; and, likewise, whatever you do for anyone in need, you do for him. He said we should not judge others but should be ever mindful of our own thoughts and actions. Jesus taught that if you follow his teachings and put your trust in the creator, who he said loves you more than even the best mother or father, you would not need to worry about what happens to you in this life or what comes afterwards because you will be taken care of. He taught that the birth of a child is the hope of humanity. He exhorted his disciples to "follow me" and demonstrated what that meant by willingly sacrificing his life for them and for all.
To my mind in light of my life experience, these teachings hang together and make sense. They make more sense to me than trying to figure out exactly what we need to believe in order to get rewarded and to avoid being punished after we die, which we all will soon enough. If we think endorsing the correct belief on the basis of someone's authoritative interpretation is the truly important thing, we may well think that following the teachings about the way we should live is not so important. We might then slip into rationalizing that it's safe to blow off the practical teachings because our adherence to the correct formula of belief is the ticket to eternal bliss that will nullify our less than conscientious efforts to follow the words and example of the teacher. We might continue to prioritize acquiring wealth, status, and power and to continue thinking I and people like me are better and more deserving of wealth, status, and power than people who look, talk, live and believe differently than us and that those others don't really count so it's OK not to care about their lives and well-being. We might even rationalize that it's OK to be dishonest and hypocritical in our public lives as long as we endorse the beliefs that will get us past St. Peter when we arrive at the gate.
Assuming I'm not too far off in my understanding of what Jesus said we ought to do in this life, I wonder what our world could be like if we all reflected on the Christmas story of his humble origins, considered the wisdom of his teachings as they have come down to us, took to heart his guidance on how to be, and did our best to live accordingly? As a man who was brought up in the Methodist Church with the humble example of faith set by my mother and my older sister, Anne, that's what Christmas means to me, that there's hope for all of us, even the smallest and the least of our brothers and sisters, that how we view and treat one another, even ourselves, and how we live is what counts, in short, that we should love one another "the way I loved you" and have faith that everything will be ok. I wonder...
Wishing to each of you and to everyone everywhere a spirit of love and goodwill, I am:
Yours truly,
Owen
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Silliness and seriousness
"Is this who we are, just the stories we've known?" (From my original song Midnight on Neptune.)
The Universe is what it is. We human beings look for and believe we find meaning that seems to be a product of our own cognitive processes. Of course, those processes are a product of the Universe, so perhaps there is some transcendent truth, some overarching meaning of all this. I sometimes have thought the meaning of the Universe is "I love you."
Dante, following Catholic theology, viewed human life as a Divine Comedy where all of our thrashing around and human foibles come to a happy ending- at least, for those of us who die holding the right beliefs and attitudes. I recall terrifying experiences under the influence of what I was told was LSD where I heard loud thoughts echoing in my mind, "Is it serious or is it funny?" During those awful acid trips I believed I was already in Hell with no chance of escape. It was always a great relief when the drug wore off and my usual construction of reality returned. That frightening idea is a paranoid delusion I have for the most part reasoned myself out of buying into. My life is only serious or funny to the extent I see it that way. In short, it's subjective; and, to me, it's both.
Dante's Christian theology holds that Hell is simply separation from God, temporary in this world, permanent in the world one finds oneself in after death if Jesus passes judgement on us and finds us lacking. After much reading, reflection, and soul-searching I arrived at the belief a creator of some sort must be responsible for the vast and seemingly eternal Universe we perceive and exist within; but, as for the nature of the creator, who knows? I can no longer entertain the simple fairytale stories I was taught in Sunday school at St. James Methodist Church in Athens. I've written about the issue earlier in this blog. Every religion boils down to the beliefs, practices, and opinions of human beings like me. They all revolve around archetypal myths from which verbal formulations are extracted. Dedicated scholarly experts who espouse the same religion disagree completely on how to interpret and apply basic tenets. Wise thinkers concluded long ago that no verbal formulation could ever contain a transcendent creator.
All of the above notwithstanding, the imprint of my religious and cultural experiences remains a strong force in my cognitive processes and perceptions of self and world. The values inculcated into my psyche- humility, compassion, sacrifice, service, forgiveness- are Christian. My highly critical view of the Christian world, the network of people who claim the faith, follows from my perception that Yeshua has been abandoned by most of his nominal followers and the organized denominations and churches they operate. The support of Donald Trump by 75% of US white evangelical Protestants in a recent study is a stark illustration of how far many flocks have strayed from the Shepherd.
My one-liner on this subject: "Poor Jesus. First he gets crucified, then he gets thrown under the bus."
Now, finally getting around to point of this entry, I am very prone to satirical silliness, most of which remains hidden in the private events of my mental life. Bob Dylan, who profoundly influence my view of life, wrote, "it's easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred."
My one-liner on Bob: "He confirmed that things were as fucked up as I thought they were."
I haven't changed my mind on the screwed-upness of things in the ensuing years. My view of humanity is twofold- we as a species have done amazing things in our science, technology, engineering, literature, art, music, medicine; and, yet, we have failed overall to achieve an enlightened social culture. Sure, there are many pockets of enlightenment scattered around the Earth; but, the results of the unfolding progression of government at all levels are deeply discouraging. The prosperity of the few is built on the backs of countless "disrobed faceless forms of no position." We face numerous existential threats of our own creation, notably nuclear war and climate change. Abuse of the vulnerable by the powerful rages on in events ranging from the personal to the international.
Perhaps my dim view of human society as a whole accounts for the satirical silliness pervading my inner life. What am I referring to here? One major manifestation takes the form of repetitive chant-like songs I find myself producing as I go about the business of my daily activities.
Hey hey, sweetie/
Hey hey, honey/
Stop acting stupid/
and give me all the money
is a relatively innocuous example. It may begin with or continue to numerous variations-
Hey, hey, Negroes/Hey, hey bozos/
Hey, hey, whingbats/Hey, hey Ayatollahs/
I'm the one that they call the Ayatollah/
You're the one known as Dr, Squatcha-Bozo/
I am it/You ain't shit/
Bite Mr. Prick/
'Cause I'm the Ayatollah...
In line with Dylan's observation, I make light of virtually everything, not least of all myself. Of course, I wouldn't want most people to know about these little songs.
But, the other side of the coin is this- when it comes down to nuts and bolts, I take life seriously. I devoted most of my adult life to academic training, professional practice, and family, striving diligently and successfully to create a haven of relative safety and security for myself, Mary Lou, and our children. Besides music, the most meaningful aspect of my retired life is affirming others and helping them materially when opportunities present themselves. Conclusion- my silliness is a way to cope with my pain and disappointment from years of bravely looking at so much of what my fellow humans do, to laugh at it rather than to weep.
The Universe is what it is. We human beings look for and believe we find meaning that seems to be a product of our own cognitive processes. Of course, those processes are a product of the Universe, so perhaps there is some transcendent truth, some overarching meaning of all this. I sometimes have thought the meaning of the Universe is "I love you."
Dante, following Catholic theology, viewed human life as a Divine Comedy where all of our thrashing around and human foibles come to a happy ending- at least, for those of us who die holding the right beliefs and attitudes. I recall terrifying experiences under the influence of what I was told was LSD where I heard loud thoughts echoing in my mind, "Is it serious or is it funny?" During those awful acid trips I believed I was already in Hell with no chance of escape. It was always a great relief when the drug wore off and my usual construction of reality returned. That frightening idea is a paranoid delusion I have for the most part reasoned myself out of buying into. My life is only serious or funny to the extent I see it that way. In short, it's subjective; and, to me, it's both.
Dante's Christian theology holds that Hell is simply separation from God, temporary in this world, permanent in the world one finds oneself in after death if Jesus passes judgement on us and finds us lacking. After much reading, reflection, and soul-searching I arrived at the belief a creator of some sort must be responsible for the vast and seemingly eternal Universe we perceive and exist within; but, as for the nature of the creator, who knows? I can no longer entertain the simple fairytale stories I was taught in Sunday school at St. James Methodist Church in Athens. I've written about the issue earlier in this blog. Every religion boils down to the beliefs, practices, and opinions of human beings like me. They all revolve around archetypal myths from which verbal formulations are extracted. Dedicated scholarly experts who espouse the same religion disagree completely on how to interpret and apply basic tenets. Wise thinkers concluded long ago that no verbal formulation could ever contain a transcendent creator.
All of the above notwithstanding, the imprint of my religious and cultural experiences remains a strong force in my cognitive processes and perceptions of self and world. The values inculcated into my psyche- humility, compassion, sacrifice, service, forgiveness- are Christian. My highly critical view of the Christian world, the network of people who claim the faith, follows from my perception that Yeshua has been abandoned by most of his nominal followers and the organized denominations and churches they operate. The support of Donald Trump by 75% of US white evangelical Protestants in a recent study is a stark illustration of how far many flocks have strayed from the Shepherd.
My one-liner on this subject: "Poor Jesus. First he gets crucified, then he gets thrown under the bus."
Now, finally getting around to point of this entry, I am very prone to satirical silliness, most of which remains hidden in the private events of my mental life. Bob Dylan, who profoundly influence my view of life, wrote, "it's easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred."
My one-liner on Bob: "He confirmed that things were as fucked up as I thought they were."
I haven't changed my mind on the screwed-upness of things in the ensuing years. My view of humanity is twofold- we as a species have done amazing things in our science, technology, engineering, literature, art, music, medicine; and, yet, we have failed overall to achieve an enlightened social culture. Sure, there are many pockets of enlightenment scattered around the Earth; but, the results of the unfolding progression of government at all levels are deeply discouraging. The prosperity of the few is built on the backs of countless "disrobed faceless forms of no position." We face numerous existential threats of our own creation, notably nuclear war and climate change. Abuse of the vulnerable by the powerful rages on in events ranging from the personal to the international.
Perhaps my dim view of human society as a whole accounts for the satirical silliness pervading my inner life. What am I referring to here? One major manifestation takes the form of repetitive chant-like songs I find myself producing as I go about the business of my daily activities.
Hey hey, sweetie/
Hey hey, honey/
Stop acting stupid/
and give me all the money
is a relatively innocuous example. It may begin with or continue to numerous variations-
Hey, hey, Negroes/Hey, hey bozos/
Hey, hey, whingbats/Hey, hey Ayatollahs/
I'm the one that they call the Ayatollah/
You're the one known as Dr, Squatcha-Bozo/
I am it/You ain't shit/
Bite Mr. Prick/
'Cause I'm the Ayatollah...
In line with Dylan's observation, I make light of virtually everything, not least of all myself. Of course, I wouldn't want most people to know about these little songs.
But, the other side of the coin is this- when it comes down to nuts and bolts, I take life seriously. I devoted most of my adult life to academic training, professional practice, and family, striving diligently and successfully to create a haven of relative safety and security for myself, Mary Lou, and our children. Besides music, the most meaningful aspect of my retired life is affirming others and helping them materially when opportunities present themselves. Conclusion- my silliness is a way to cope with my pain and disappointment from years of bravely looking at so much of what my fellow humans do, to laugh at it rather than to weep.
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Friday, December 13, 2019
The note before the note (Reginald, Brenda, Bobby, Mimi via Messenger)
Dec 9, 2019 2:37 PM
Athens, Georgia
2020 Class of 70 Pre-Party Planning Notes
Before beginning rehearsals, we will need to accomplish the following:
1) Recruit the necessary instrumentalists and vocalists for the party band.
2) Decide on the length, format, and financing of the event (e.g., number of sets of music, how refreshments will be provided, how much to charge people who attend, whether and how performers will be compensated, etc).
3) Identify and secure a venue for the Pre-Party
4) Develop songs and sets for the musical program
5) Develop practice schedule and location(s).
So far, we have two guitarist (Rick and myself), six vocalists (Mimi, Brenda, Reginald, Bobby, Rick and me) and an accomplished keyboard player (Bill Pappas) Brenda knows who agreed to play with us. Reginald and Bobby could also serve as a trumpet section should they wish to. Mimi suggested recruiting Deanie May Fincher to sing and Brenda agreed to ask her. We will need a bass player and drummer to complete a basic line-up.
My good friend, bassist Dave Stammer, who played at the 2015 Pre-Party and lives in Dallas, TX agreed to be in the band several months ago but has not responded to my recent efforts to contact him. I suggested asking Athens veteran bass player Gregg Veale and will contact him. John Harriman could be asked in case Gregg can't do it. Bobby has a call in to Cal Hale to ask him if he would be our drummer. I've played will both Gregg and Cal (and John, too, a long time ago). They are all fine musicians who are enjoyable to work with. Most or all of the above except me live in the Athens or Atlanta areas (where do you live, Mimi?) making it easier to arrange rehearsals.
I would like everyone to come up with songs you'd like to perform and send me your suggestions. Mimi, Brenda and (hopefully) Deanie will form a "girl group" to perform suitable songs, perhaps in one entire 45-50 minute set. They could also perform in several shorter segments such as once during each of 3 or 4 sets. I'm open to all ideas about that. Last time I planned for 3 sets and the band ran out of time to perform all the songs we had rehearsed. I would suggest we plan on about 2.5-3 hours of music in 3 sets with breaks in between for a total of 3.5 hours (maybe 730pm until 11pm or 8pm until 1130pm).
Hendershot's was a great venue for the 2015 Pre=Party. Should we see about lining it up for this one?
That's all I've got so far. Input from everyone would be great and much appreciated. Let me know your thoughts, ideas and song suggestions!
Owen
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Note to Pre-Party Principals
Reginald and Brenda,
I'm not including Bobby on this message because he's dealing with follow up on cancer treatment right now and he doesn't need to worry about anything else. I will be driving back to Baton Rouge all day tomorrow. Thinking about the planning to date for the proposed Pre-Party, I'm concerned that my initial vision for the event isn't coming together as far as who is willing and able to plan, rehearse together, and perform. Even coordinating discussions seems to present difficulties. For the 5 past events I produced in Athens, I did most of this single-handedly including agreeing at the beginning to pay the musicians (which gave them an incentive to commit and rehearse). I wonder if that's the only way to make it work this time? We still don't have a drummer or bass player lined up and having a place to rehearse is a question mark.
For the 2015 Pre-Party I recruited (and paid) David Herndon and we rehearsed at his house in Athens. I paid everyone else who played as well plus paying for the catered food and recouped some of it from the cover charge.
Rehearsals for the 2017 event I produced took place at Rick's house in Atlanta and involved people from Baton Rouge, New Orleans and Dallas. This wasn't ideal but we pulled it off fairly well. I paid 4 people $1000 each for that one.
I didn't charge a cover for that one. I did all that voluntarily and have no regrets about it. This is just to point out what it takes to have a successful party. I have a few ideas for how we could solve the various problems but will wait until I get home to formulate them in writing. I wanted to make you two aware of my concerns so you may consider them and see what you think. I will get back with you within a day or two after I get home.
Owen
Finally back in Athens
After Thanksgiving, Mary Lou and I drove back to Baton Rouge from Patty's home in Dallas with Cody and Maureen, listening to "S*Town," a podcast series centering on a brilliant, tormented, eccentric man living in the small town of Woodstock, Alabama. I attended the LSU-Texas A&M football game with Cody, as Maureen wasn't feeling well. Cody and Maureen left on Sunday. As they were getting in Maureen's Accura, they mentioned possibly having two extra tickets to the SEC Championship game the following Saturday (Dec 7) in Atlanta between LSU and Georgia. I made a quick calculation and offered to buy the tickets if the couple they invited declined them. The tickets were available and I quickly developed a plan to visit to Athens after the game.
I offered a ticket to Roy Bell, whom I haven't been keeping up with adequately, but he couldn't go. Bobby Daniel was next up and he accepted. I drove to Roswell on Friday where I stayed with my old friend, Blair, met Bobby at his high rise condo building in Atlanta (he owns two units) on Saturday morning, went with him to the game (wherein LSU administered a crushing defeat to the Dawgs), stayed that night with Bobby's old friend and former IBM colleague, Steve, who has a beautiful house, and followed Bobby back to Athens where I've stayed Sunday and Monday nights at his house.
Sunday, Bobby and Fran had Brenda Poss and Rick Burgess over for dinner and socializing centered on discussing plans for the AHS Class of '70 50th Reunion Pre-Party I had agreed some time ago to organize and host on May 1, 2020. Reginald Whitehead was invited but cancelled due to being to tired to drive over from his home in Atlanta. I had texted Mimi DuBose and her Winettes (Anne, Peggy, and Penny) to offer them an enhanced role in the 2020 event. Mimi replied during the course of the evening and suggested we recruit Brenda and Deanie May Fincher, not knowing Brenda was sitting across the room from me. Mimi and Brenda agreed to be on board and Brenda said she would approach Deanie about signing on.
Yesterday (Monday, Dec 9), I was invited to lunch with Lynn Hutcheson and her old high school friend, Mary Stephens. Lynn gave me a very cool poster she'd been saving for me from the Filmore Athens event I hadn't been able to attend. Last evening, I went to dinner at Hilltop Grille with Bobby, Fran, Roy and Debbie Bell, Kathy Betts, and Dayle Freeman. The pecan crusted trout I had was mediocre at best but the company was lovely. It would take pages to fill in the details of the experiences covered in this paragraph and they would probably bore the reader, if any, further if I recorded them. So I move on and stick to the major points.
Bobby was diagnosed with liver cancer about two years ago. His treatment went well and he has had no recurrence thus far. Bobby and Fran left at 5am this morning for follow-up testing at a cancer clinic in Atlanta. I only learned yesterday I would need to leave with them and find another place to sleep tonight. Roy and Debbie kindly accommodated. I got up at 4am this morning and went out the door on schedule. Later, I met another old and dear friend, Laura Margeson, for coffee around 7am. I got a text from Debbie at 8 saying come on over which I did. Roy came back from checking his job site about 9am and we drove out to look at the tract of land with a partially finished house they recently bought out in the country near Sandy Cross, Georgia. They will
Spending time with my closest Athens friends has been lovely. It's been over a year since I visited Athens due to a variety of factors, being diagnosed with and treated for detached left retina beginning early this year being the biggest. I've had four surgical procedures so far with at least one more to remove silicone oil required; and, a successful outcome isn't guaranteed. However, I've learned to get by with one working eye as evidenced by driving from Baton Rouge to Georgia without difficulty.
My focal concern today is the direction of my musical pursuits. The session with Marc Cooper in Redding, CA produced four partially completed song tracks. Initial discussions and correspondence with Brenda, Rick, Bobby, Reginald and Mimi DuBose about the Pre-Party have not been encouraging as all of them except Rick have expressed ambivalence about their commitment to the event. My own enthusiasm for all of my creative ideas and projects has been weak for the most part recently. Today I'm considering whether to press on or to abort the mission. I'm free to do what I want and I have the money to underwrite any realistic project I might pursue. I need to arrive at clarity and proceed deliberately once I get there.
I offered a ticket to Roy Bell, whom I haven't been keeping up with adequately, but he couldn't go. Bobby Daniel was next up and he accepted. I drove to Roswell on Friday where I stayed with my old friend, Blair, met Bobby at his high rise condo building in Atlanta (he owns two units) on Saturday morning, went with him to the game (wherein LSU administered a crushing defeat to the Dawgs), stayed that night with Bobby's old friend and former IBM colleague, Steve, who has a beautiful house, and followed Bobby back to Athens where I've stayed Sunday and Monday nights at his house.
Sunday, Bobby and Fran had Brenda Poss and Rick Burgess over for dinner and socializing centered on discussing plans for the AHS Class of '70 50th Reunion Pre-Party I had agreed some time ago to organize and host on May 1, 2020. Reginald Whitehead was invited but cancelled due to being to tired to drive over from his home in Atlanta. I had texted Mimi DuBose and her Winettes (Anne, Peggy, and Penny) to offer them an enhanced role in the 2020 event. Mimi replied during the course of the evening and suggested we recruit Brenda and Deanie May Fincher, not knowing Brenda was sitting across the room from me. Mimi and Brenda agreed to be on board and Brenda said she would approach Deanie about signing on.
Yesterday (Monday, Dec 9), I was invited to lunch with Lynn Hutcheson and her old high school friend, Mary Stephens. Lynn gave me a very cool poster she'd been saving for me from the Filmore Athens event I hadn't been able to attend. Last evening, I went to dinner at Hilltop Grille with Bobby, Fran, Roy and Debbie Bell, Kathy Betts, and Dayle Freeman. The pecan crusted trout I had was mediocre at best but the company was lovely. It would take pages to fill in the details of the experiences covered in this paragraph and they would probably bore the reader, if any, further if I recorded them. So I move on and stick to the major points.
Bobby was diagnosed with liver cancer about two years ago. His treatment went well and he has had no recurrence thus far. Bobby and Fran left at 5am this morning for follow-up testing at a cancer clinic in Atlanta. I only learned yesterday I would need to leave with them and find another place to sleep tonight. Roy and Debbie kindly accommodated. I got up at 4am this morning and went out the door on schedule. Later, I met another old and dear friend, Laura Margeson, for coffee around 7am. I got a text from Debbie at 8 saying come on over which I did. Roy came back from checking his job site about 9am and we drove out to look at the tract of land with a partially finished house they recently bought out in the country near Sandy Cross, Georgia. They will
Spending time with my closest Athens friends has been lovely. It's been over a year since I visited Athens due to a variety of factors, being diagnosed with and treated for detached left retina beginning early this year being the biggest. I've had four surgical procedures so far with at least one more to remove silicone oil required; and, a successful outcome isn't guaranteed. However, I've learned to get by with one working eye as evidenced by driving from Baton Rouge to Georgia without difficulty.
My focal concern today is the direction of my musical pursuits. The session with Marc Cooper in Redding, CA produced four partially completed song tracks. Initial discussions and correspondence with Brenda, Rick, Bobby, Reginald and Mimi DuBose about the Pre-Party have not been encouraging as all of them except Rick have expressed ambivalence about their commitment to the event. My own enthusiasm for all of my creative ideas and projects has been weak for the most part recently. Today I'm considering whether to press on or to abort the mission. I'm free to do what I want and I have the money to underwrite any realistic project I might pursue. I need to arrive at clarity and proceed deliberately once I get there.
Monday, November 25, 2019
Advice to a former patient seeking reconciliation with her lover
Your message to ___ was lovely. What I think is this- often we feel the need to do something to make something good happen. However, often the best course of action is to be patient and do nothing. I call that "waiting for the wave," a metaphor drawn from surfing. I may have given you this concept at some time in the past but it bears revisiting. When you've prepared yourself to seize upon the moment of opportunity (the wave) you simply paddle out into the surf and wait. It appears you're doing nothing but in actuality everything that came before has prepared you for the challenge ahead. That's the situation I see with you and Vic. Another way I put it is in the form of a maxim: Instead of trying to control things, become harmonious with them. Your message to Vic is harmonious with his grief process. It expresses understanding and willingness to be there as a supportive friend. I don't think he has anyone else who is willing and able that he can turn to. So, my advice is don't try to make anything happen. Be patient and have faith. I believe it's well founded. It's also a lot less stressful than trying to figure out what it is you need to do to make him want to be with you. No need for that because you've already achieved the goal. If he feels pressure, he will withdraw. If he senses you just want to be there for him, he will move closer. Be receptive, not active.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
Dream
I'm in Ireland just after an event I'd attended. I'm standing at the intersection of a highway and a side road deciding which route I will take to return to my starting point. I know either route will get me there. I'm talking to a slender young woman I just met. We're having a pleasant conversation. I ask her hopefully if she'd like to come with me. She declines. I decide to take the side road and begin walking confidently with no concern about safety or getting to my destination. I wonder of perhaps ask aloud if hitchhiking is against the law in Ireland. We wave goodbye to one another as she steps back and turns away.
Next I'm traveling on the route in my Porsche with my father driving. We come to a town where Dad turns into the parking area in front of a comfortable house instead of staying on the road. A lady walk out of the house to get her mail and I recall and comment that the same lady had done the same thing when I passed by previously. I was struck by the coincidence. I thought Dad was getting tired and I offered to drive but he said he was OK. Just past the house there was a fence blocking the road. I knew I'd gotten through this road previously ade I pointed out how you could see the road to the left climbing a hill into the town. Then, we saw an unpaved street leading straight ahead into a residential section. We drove into it. A utility truck was parked on the right making it iffy to pass without hitting the truck. However, Dad drove past it without sideswiping the truck.
Thoughts and associations-
The side road brings to mine "the road less traveled." I have followed my own eccentric path through life rather than following conventional models, at least internally.
The slender girl reminds me of all the women I've admired and been attracted to who haven't gone down the path of life with me.
Traveling alone on foot is a youthful adventure, not something I would do at my current age of 67.
My father driving my Porsche makes me think that his example and values are still guiding my life, despite the outward differences in our lifestyles..
Next I'm traveling on the route in my Porsche with my father driving. We come to a town where Dad turns into the parking area in front of a comfortable house instead of staying on the road. A lady walk out of the house to get her mail and I recall and comment that the same lady had done the same thing when I passed by previously. I was struck by the coincidence. I thought Dad was getting tired and I offered to drive but he said he was OK. Just past the house there was a fence blocking the road. I knew I'd gotten through this road previously ade I pointed out how you could see the road to the left climbing a hill into the town. Then, we saw an unpaved street leading straight ahead into a residential section. We drove into it. A utility truck was parked on the right making it iffy to pass without hitting the truck. However, Dad drove past it without sideswiping the truck.
Thoughts and associations-
The side road brings to mine "the road less traveled." I have followed my own eccentric path through life rather than following conventional models, at least internally.
The slender girl reminds me of all the women I've admired and been attracted to who haven't gone down the path of life with me.
Traveling alone on foot is a youthful adventure, not something I would do at my current age of 67.
My father driving my Porsche makes me think that his example and values are still guiding my life, despite the outward differences in our lifestyles..
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
The Wizard of Redding
I'm in a commuter jet from Redding to San Francisco (and now, a few hours later, aboard a big Airbus 320 from there to Houston) after spending five days devoted to recording a set of my original songs with Marc "Coop" Cooper. I say five days although a considerable amount of time was spent by Marc on other things, notably his appointment yesterday with a leading oncologist named Dr. Toscano in Sacramento to discuss results of testing and options for further treatment.
Marc and his wife, Rene, got back from the trip in the middle of the afternoon and it took a little while for him to transition back to my songs. Other days were not particularly efficient, either, such that instead of eight fairly complete recordings as planned (and paid for), we ended up with four unfinished ones (Cold dead hands, Hurricane, Dynaflow Club, and Making a stand) with no vocals attempted. Finishing them will require me to make another trip to Redding and, I assume, will incur additional charges.
Marc has many connections in the music industry and seems to stay busy with various gigs and projects but I'm sure his very serious health problems (non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and mysterious lesions in his lungs that may or may not be NHL) have drained the family's resources. I'm in a position to travel and pay a fair price for his work and I want my recordings to be the best possible. I'm incredibly blessed to be alive, in good health, in possession of a certain amount of knowledge and wisdom, financially secure far beyond my needs, motivated to use my time meaningfully, and free to do pretty much as I please. Very few people in this world enjoy so many advantages.
Of course, I would like to have flown away with eight rough tracks including vocals but I decided early in the first day to subordinate my agenda to Marc's creative process. He is an amazing musician and producer, able to use his guitar and software modeling courtesy of a programmable Roland multi-effect device similar to my old Blue Box to create a fantastic array of convincing imitations of every species of guitar, amplifier, keyboard instrument, bass guitar, and effect from which he builds arrangements and instrumentation, working feverishly over the computer and commenting to himself continuously, all of this the result of an adult life relentlessly devoted to developing all of those skills and learning to integrate them in the art of song production. Marc's ability to create cool organ chops from the fretboard was particularly impressive.
And, yet, the higher levels of success his accomplishment might have allowed him to achieve have eluded him. I can see how certain facets of his personality have put limits on his success. One is a kind of paranoia or distrust that has kept him from getting too close and prevented him from forming alliances, friendships that would open doors to big time gigs. Another is ambivalence about his goals. And a third is the inability to write great original songs. Marc's talent is more being able to produce someone else's songs. I see how that's where I come in. I'm nowhere close to the guitarist he is. I have very limited technical skills or recording and production. But I have the ability to write compelling music and match it with the poetry of rock & roll. This insight wasn't stated aloud by either of us but we both were thinking it.
In the sessions, I supplied the inspiration through demos of my songs and he took it from there, constructing and tweaking for hours while I sat and watched or wandered around the outer practice room of the studio. Very occasionally I would be called upon to play guitar chords and arpeggios or solos. I allowed Marc to select the models for the guitar and amp sounds and to direct me on how he felt my parts should be played. Though I was left necessarily to inhibit my own urges and inclinations, my role wasn't totally passive, as I discussed and approved of each chunk of music I played and everything he played as well. Marc proposed a number of minor modifications to the concepts embodied in my demos including a few I was skeptical about; but, I went along to give his auditory vision a chance. Why? For one thing, the power and sophistication he brought to my songs was evident on each one as the mosaic of instrumental parts grew and developed. Moreover, the joy and excitement Marc expressed in his words, facial expressions and body language was incredibly affirming- here is a brilliant musical artist having a love affair with my creations. "There are many possible ways and no one right way," I said, "to arrange and record a song." I only had to let go of attachment to my own simple demos that in many cases illustrate the exact point.
The strategy affirmed and empowered Marc to work his magic without the intrusive disruption of my little ego. Years of practicing psychotherapy with adults gave me the discipline and honed the clinical intuition guiding my interactions with Marc "Coop" Cooper, the Wizard of Redding.
The second night as we were working on Hurricane, I went to bed and left him to tweak an emergent hard rocking Zeppelin-esque rendition of the song. When we resumed working the next day, he had transformed the sound completely, making it cleaner and tougher in a way that I found much more original and distinct from the Old School hard rock sound I'd left him with. In the interim after I signed off for the night, the Muse inspired Marc with a superior concept he then went with. We kept up a lively, running conversation throughout the process, identifying influences of his and mine represented in the music.
Marc and his wife, Rene, got back from the trip in the middle of the afternoon and it took a little while for him to transition back to my songs. Other days were not particularly efficient, either, such that instead of eight fairly complete recordings as planned (and paid for), we ended up with four unfinished ones (Cold dead hands, Hurricane, Dynaflow Club, and Making a stand) with no vocals attempted. Finishing them will require me to make another trip to Redding and, I assume, will incur additional charges.
Marc has many connections in the music industry and seems to stay busy with various gigs and projects but I'm sure his very serious health problems (non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and mysterious lesions in his lungs that may or may not be NHL) have drained the family's resources. I'm in a position to travel and pay a fair price for his work and I want my recordings to be the best possible. I'm incredibly blessed to be alive, in good health, in possession of a certain amount of knowledge and wisdom, financially secure far beyond my needs, motivated to use my time meaningfully, and free to do pretty much as I please. Very few people in this world enjoy so many advantages.
Of course, I would like to have flown away with eight rough tracks including vocals but I decided early in the first day to subordinate my agenda to Marc's creative process. He is an amazing musician and producer, able to use his guitar and software modeling courtesy of a programmable Roland multi-effect device similar to my old Blue Box to create a fantastic array of convincing imitations of every species of guitar, amplifier, keyboard instrument, bass guitar, and effect from which he builds arrangements and instrumentation, working feverishly over the computer and commenting to himself continuously, all of this the result of an adult life relentlessly devoted to developing all of those skills and learning to integrate them in the art of song production. Marc's ability to create cool organ chops from the fretboard was particularly impressive.
And, yet, the higher levels of success his accomplishment might have allowed him to achieve have eluded him. I can see how certain facets of his personality have put limits on his success. One is a kind of paranoia or distrust that has kept him from getting too close and prevented him from forming alliances, friendships that would open doors to big time gigs. Another is ambivalence about his goals. And a third is the inability to write great original songs. Marc's talent is more being able to produce someone else's songs. I see how that's where I come in. I'm nowhere close to the guitarist he is. I have very limited technical skills or recording and production. But I have the ability to write compelling music and match it with the poetry of rock & roll. This insight wasn't stated aloud by either of us but we both were thinking it.
In the sessions, I supplied the inspiration through demos of my songs and he took it from there, constructing and tweaking for hours while I sat and watched or wandered around the outer practice room of the studio. Very occasionally I would be called upon to play guitar chords and arpeggios or solos. I allowed Marc to select the models for the guitar and amp sounds and to direct me on how he felt my parts should be played. Though I was left necessarily to inhibit my own urges and inclinations, my role wasn't totally passive, as I discussed and approved of each chunk of music I played and everything he played as well. Marc proposed a number of minor modifications to the concepts embodied in my demos including a few I was skeptical about; but, I went along to give his auditory vision a chance. Why? For one thing, the power and sophistication he brought to my songs was evident on each one as the mosaic of instrumental parts grew and developed. Moreover, the joy and excitement Marc expressed in his words, facial expressions and body language was incredibly affirming- here is a brilliant musical artist having a love affair with my creations. "There are many possible ways and no one right way," I said, "to arrange and record a song." I only had to let go of attachment to my own simple demos that in many cases illustrate the exact point.
The strategy affirmed and empowered Marc to work his magic without the intrusive disruption of my little ego. Years of practicing psychotherapy with adults gave me the discipline and honed the clinical intuition guiding my interactions with Marc "Coop" Cooper, the Wizard of Redding.
The second night as we were working on Hurricane, I went to bed and left him to tweak an emergent hard rocking Zeppelin-esque rendition of the song. When we resumed working the next day, he had transformed the sound completely, making it cleaner and tougher in a way that I found much more original and distinct from the Old School hard rock sound I'd left him with. In the interim after I signed off for the night, the Muse inspired Marc with a superior concept he then went with. We kept up a lively, running conversation throughout the process, identifying influences of his and mine represented in the music.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Hanging out in Redding
On my third day in Redding, we are working on only the second song (Hurricane) of the 8 plus 1 (We are the ones) we had planned to record during this 5 day session. The first song Marc started on was Cold dead hands and it isn't finished. So far, I haven't attempted any vocals at all. I've ceded control of the process to Marc as he's incredibly skilled and his treatment of my songs sounds fabulous. He appears to obsess about details as he goes along and the progress seems much slower than necessary. I would prioritize getting a basic structure in place, then putting a preliminary vocal track on and then add my lead guitar contributions, with polished vocals being the final step. However, I think it best not to interfere with his creative recording process but to let him do his thing and hope my work on some of the songs is finished before I have to fly out on Wednesday morning around 10am.
Being here is pleasant and relaxing and Marc and his wife, Rene, are very easy to be with. They have three little dachshunds of various ages, an old guy named Bud, a very young girl named Lady who has very soft red hair and loves to roll on her back for tummy rubs, and an intermediate aged girl, Poppy, who is quite nervous and fearful of strangers (case in point, me). She barks loudly when she sees of hears me do anything yet she exhibits approach/avoidance behavior that says she wants to engage with me but is afraid I'm going to hurt her. Marc and Rene acquired Poppy as the result of some couple divorcing (I don't know the story beyond that) and they think she experienced some sort of emotional trauma. I would agree it seems likely given what I've observed.
I found myself getting bored today watching Marc and waiting for him to need me to play something. I think that contributed to my feeling tired now despite taking 4 15mg amphetamine tablets through the course of the day. I did give Marc input on the Hurricane and played some good spontaneous solo lines at the beginning of the song. I don't mind at all letting Marc run the show and give me guidance on how he'd like me to play. His suggestions are harmonious with my aesthetic thinking and, again, what we've got so far sounds terrific. I just wish things moved along more efficiently. I know I've slowed Marc down by engaging him in interesting conversations which he clearly enjoys. He's a very kind, intelligent, and sensitive guy who has led a most varied and interesting life. It would have been worthwhile to record our conversations for oral history.
I offered to let him register these songs with his publishing company so he can get compensation for any commercial action the songs might generate. I'm not doing this for monetary gain and I'm sure with his big medical expenses, he can use the income. I'm really concerned that with his recurring pulmonary lesions he may not live too much longer. Of course, I could be completely wrong about that and I hope I am. But it's also possible I'm right.
Being here is pleasant and relaxing and Marc and his wife, Rene, are very easy to be with. They have three little dachshunds of various ages, an old guy named Bud, a very young girl named Lady who has very soft red hair and loves to roll on her back for tummy rubs, and an intermediate aged girl, Poppy, who is quite nervous and fearful of strangers (case in point, me). She barks loudly when she sees of hears me do anything yet she exhibits approach/avoidance behavior that says she wants to engage with me but is afraid I'm going to hurt her. Marc and Rene acquired Poppy as the result of some couple divorcing (I don't know the story beyond that) and they think she experienced some sort of emotional trauma. I would agree it seems likely given what I've observed.
I found myself getting bored today watching Marc and waiting for him to need me to play something. I think that contributed to my feeling tired now despite taking 4 15mg amphetamine tablets through the course of the day. I did give Marc input on the Hurricane and played some good spontaneous solo lines at the beginning of the song. I don't mind at all letting Marc run the show and give me guidance on how he'd like me to play. His suggestions are harmonious with my aesthetic thinking and, again, what we've got so far sounds terrific. I just wish things moved along more efficiently. I know I've slowed Marc down by engaging him in interesting conversations which he clearly enjoys. He's a very kind, intelligent, and sensitive guy who has led a most varied and interesting life. It would have been worthwhile to record our conversations for oral history.
I offered to let him register these songs with his publishing company so he can get compensation for any commercial action the songs might generate. I'm not doing this for monetary gain and I'm sure with his big medical expenses, he can use the income. I'm really concerned that with his recurring pulmonary lesions he may not live too much longer. Of course, I could be completely wrong about that and I hope I am. But it's also possible I'm right.
Saturday, November 16, 2019
Note to Cody and Maureen about Marc "Coop" Cooper
Redding, California, Saturday, November 16, 2019
I flew out here on Thursday and will fly back next Wednesday. The first song we've been working on, Cold Dead Hands, sounds amazing. The goal is to get 8 songs completed. I let Marc listen to my demos and pick the ones he wanted to do. Most of them are in the blues-rock ballpark. I'm doing lead guitar and vocals and he's doing everything else which is a lot. He's got amazing playing and production skills, for example, being able to create the sound of bass guitar, organs and synthesizers (and Heaven knows what else) using electronic transformations of parts played on the guitar. I mostly sit there and watch him do magic while occasionally playing guitar or singing. He's also very intelligent and knowledgable with a wide range of life experiences and is very kind, sensitive, and personable. It's like recording in a major studio with world class sidemen. This is very exciting.
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
Listening to an older vet in the Retina Center waiting room
Killing people isn't my bag but I did my share and I did it well. Americans are freedom loving people. You can tell that because in all the places we fought we never kept any of them. I've been around quite a bit and we're special. I'll tell you this: If they called me tomorrow and said someone is messing around with us, I'd ask one thing- where do you want me to meet you?
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Note to Lauren who fell and broke a leg
Dear Lauren,
I hope you're comfortable and getting good care from the doctors and nurses. Mom tells me you want her to wait until you see how things develop before coming up to visit. That makes sense in that your good friends are there to help. I appreciate them being there for you very much as, of course, we're highly concerned that your needs are being met while your broken bones are healing and you're having to depend on others in many ways.
It was good speaking to you yesterday. You sounded remarkably upbeat. Being hospitalized under the best of circumstances can be quite trying with all the constraints that you're suddenly having to cope with. Mom and I both had the same reaction- it reminded us of how joyfully playful (and lovable) you were as a child and brought up memories of you twirling around like a little dervish. Mom probably mentioned we have photographic evidence to back up our recollection. In any case, if it's cool for Sufis to whirl, why shouldn't you or I? I could easily imagine myself having a similar accident which is why I sometimes consider going around in a bike helmet and padded clothing. I'm actually half serious- Grandfather had a fall resulting in a subdural hematoma which left him permanently impaired and fearful of falling; and, the same thing just sent Jimmy Carter to the hospital. I remember reading long ago in Jung's fascinating autobiography these words:
"The life of man is a dubious experiment. It is a tremendous phenomenon only in numerical terms. Individually, it is so fleeting, so insufficient, that it is literally a miracle that anything can exist and develop at all. I was impressed by that fact long ago, as a young medical student, and it seemed to me miraculous that I should not have been prematurely annihilated." Prologue of Memories, Dreams, Reflections
When I read Jung 45 years ago or so, I had the experience of hearing his voice speaking the words, something that never happened before or since. I read pretty extensively in his Collected Works while I was playing in bands before I decided I'd better go back and finish college. Jung wrote in a complex Germanic style (as translated into English by Richard Wilhelm) that came across to me as wise and comforting.
I would imagine the whole episode you're undergoing seems surreal but there's no point in getting down on yourself because you had an accident. It could certainly be a lot worse. We're all incredibly fortunate to have access to the best medical care and to have people in our lives who care and are willing to show up when we need them. I'm not leaving on my trip to California until Thursday. I will call you later today to check in, hoping I catch you at a convenient time.
Love,
Dad
I hope you're comfortable and getting good care from the doctors and nurses. Mom tells me you want her to wait until you see how things develop before coming up to visit. That makes sense in that your good friends are there to help. I appreciate them being there for you very much as, of course, we're highly concerned that your needs are being met while your broken bones are healing and you're having to depend on others in many ways.
It was good speaking to you yesterday. You sounded remarkably upbeat. Being hospitalized under the best of circumstances can be quite trying with all the constraints that you're suddenly having to cope with. Mom and I both had the same reaction- it reminded us of how joyfully playful (and lovable) you were as a child and brought up memories of you twirling around like a little dervish. Mom probably mentioned we have photographic evidence to back up our recollection. In any case, if it's cool for Sufis to whirl, why shouldn't you or I? I could easily imagine myself having a similar accident which is why I sometimes consider going around in a bike helmet and padded clothing. I'm actually half serious- Grandfather had a fall resulting in a subdural hematoma which left him permanently impaired and fearful of falling; and, the same thing just sent Jimmy Carter to the hospital. I remember reading long ago in Jung's fascinating autobiography these words:
"The life of man is a dubious experiment. It is a tremendous phenomenon only in numerical terms. Individually, it is so fleeting, so insufficient, that it is literally a miracle that anything can exist and develop at all. I was impressed by that fact long ago, as a young medical student, and it seemed to me miraculous that I should not have been prematurely annihilated." Prologue of Memories, Dreams, Reflections
When I read Jung 45 years ago or so, I had the experience of hearing his voice speaking the words, something that never happened before or since. I read pretty extensively in his Collected Works while I was playing in bands before I decided I'd better go back and finish college. Jung wrote in a complex Germanic style (as translated into English by Richard Wilhelm) that came across to me as wise and comforting.
I would imagine the whole episode you're undergoing seems surreal but there's no point in getting down on yourself because you had an accident. It could certainly be a lot worse. We're all incredibly fortunate to have access to the best medical care and to have people in our lives who care and are willing to show up when we need them. I'm not leaving on my trip to California until Thursday. I will call you later today to check in, hoping I catch you at a convenient time.
Love,
Dad
Monday, November 4, 2019
Things that run through my mind in the night
I'm sure that most people have experiences similar to mine- you find yourself awake well before it's time to get up and your mind gets going, your thoughts running through a wide range of subjects and emotions as you want to go back to sleep but your brain won't cooperate. When you finally get up to begin the next day, all of this slips from awareness and is definitively forgotten. That is, unless you make a point to remember and write down what you can recall. The difference between me and most people is I've spent my life cultivating the skill of introspection so I'm capable if noticing, remembering, and recording those ephemeral words and images.
So, what did I think about in the early hour of the morning as I lay awake? I thought about things I read during the day and evening, about Jim Mattis and the risk of scientific experimentation destroying our planet by accidentally generating a voracious black hole. I wrote a review of Call Sign Chaos on Goodreads while I was midway through listening to the oral version on Audible; and, after finishing it I want to revise and add updated thoughts and opinions about Mattis and his career. I thought about many of my pet topics- the surreal crisis of Trump being the President, of the
Sunday, November 3, 2019
I wonder why I keep having those recurring dreams about my parents?
In the dream, I was talking to my mother at our old house which she still lived in. At the beginning I had no awareness of my father being there. It seemed that Mom was attending a day program for elderly people and had been driving herself there. I was taken aback that she was able to do this but she looked mentally sharp. "But you have memory problems," I said to her. Mom couldn't explain how she was doing so well. I kissed her and said, "You know I love you, Mom, and I know you love me. Do you want me to drive you today?" Mom said she would drive herself and she left.
Next I was upstairs in my parents' bedroom. It was in the same condition as when I stayed there prior to selling the house to Roy and Debbie Bell. I now was aware my Dad was still living there, too, although I don't have a clear memory of where or what he was doing. I noted numerous recent newspapers lying on the floor of the bedroom. I started picking them up to take them out for recycling. It seems there was an article in one newspaper I wanted to keep, perhaps about a play or cultural event of some kind. I had an armful so I left one issue on the floor and took the rest down to the backyard. I found two recycling bins but they were like the ones we have in Baton Rouge while the Athens bins were bigger and were a light blue color. I started to roll a bin toward the front. The neighbors on the Henderson side seemed to be the Clinton children. They had to correct recycling bins. I was a bit confused and not sure what to do about having the wrong bin.
Next I was upstairs in my parents' bedroom. It was in the same condition as when I stayed there prior to selling the house to Roy and Debbie Bell. I now was aware my Dad was still living there, too, although I don't have a clear memory of where or what he was doing. I noted numerous recent newspapers lying on the floor of the bedroom. I started picking them up to take them out for recycling. It seems there was an article in one newspaper I wanted to keep, perhaps about a play or cultural event of some kind. I had an armful so I left one issue on the floor and took the rest down to the backyard. I found two recycling bins but they were like the ones we have in Baton Rouge while the Athens bins were bigger and were a light blue color. I started to roll a bin toward the front. The neighbors on the Henderson side seemed to be the Clinton children. They had to correct recycling bins. I was a bit confused and not sure what to do about having the wrong bin.
Friday, November 1, 2019
Allowing blatant lies in paid political ads (in response to a comment)
Question from libertarian friend: What media doesn't?
Me: Twitter for one. I wonder how much it would cost Facebook to simply implement a policy of no blatant factual lies in political ads, as opposed to what Twitter did (eliminating political ads entirely)? As you know, there are legal restrictions on advertising lies in some domains. e.g., making false or unsubstantiated claims about the effectiveness of drugs, based on public welfare concerns. The public isn't up in arms about this issue (I'm sure polling on it is out there or will be shortly) and I'm not expecting anything to change in the near-term. However, Facebook may be in for trouble from Congress when the political winds shift and pick up which sooner or later they will. The argument will center on public welfare- is it better for the country to allow blatant lies in paid political ads or to ban them. One can imagine a political spot saying, "My opponent voted in favor of publishing lies for profit. Should you trust his ads?" The counter ad will say, "He voted to take away your freedom. Next they'll be coming for your Bible and your guns. Besides that, he's a closet Muslim and he's not an American citizen."
Me: Twitter for one. I wonder how much it would cost Facebook to simply implement a policy of no blatant factual lies in political ads, as opposed to what Twitter did (eliminating political ads entirely)? As you know, there are legal restrictions on advertising lies in some domains. e.g., making false or unsubstantiated claims about the effectiveness of drugs, based on public welfare concerns. The public isn't up in arms about this issue (I'm sure polling on it is out there or will be shortly) and I'm not expecting anything to change in the near-term. However, Facebook may be in for trouble from Congress when the political winds shift and pick up which sooner or later they will. The argument will center on public welfare- is it better for the country to allow blatant lies in paid political ads or to ban them. One can imagine a political spot saying, "My opponent voted in favor of publishing lies for profit. Should you trust his ads?" The counter ad will say, "He voted to take away your freedom. Next they'll be coming for your Bible and your guns. Besides that, he's a closet Muslim and he's not an American citizen."
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Taking Mattis with a dose of salt
James Mattis's "Call Sign Chaos: Learning to Lead" is an interesting and entertaining book of high relevance to the thorny geo-political issues of our times. His book provides the reader with much detailed advice and sound wisdom about leadership in preparing for and conducting warfare. "Call Sign Chaos" provides a fascinating first-hand account through a soldier's eyes of the costly invasions and occupations of Iraq and Afghanistan that continue to this moment.
As a psychologist who among other career foci devoted thousands of hours to providing psychological services to Vietnam combat veterans and whose core mission is the pursuit and application of wisdom, I find General Mattis' accounts of his lifelong journey of personal development as a leader compelling. Along the way, the reader learns many pertinent facts about the generals of the past from Xenophon to Viscount Slim as Mattis shares the lessons he gleaned from their writings. Perhaps the most powerful and thought-provoking section of the book is General Mattis' account of his adjudication of a notorious incident of misconduct and error by Marines under his command in the Iraqi town of Haditha on November 19, 2005 that resulted in the deaths of 24 mostly unarmed civilians including women and children. Whatever the truth of that horrendous episode, Mattis provides a clear-eyed analysis of the tragic circumstances of war for combatants and civilians alike as only a thoughtful and seasoned warrior could. I'm reminded when we send young men and women into war, many will be faced with impossible moral dilemmas that unfold in a few short seconds and haunt the survivors for the rest of their lives. It's the duty of our country to do all we can to take care of those who return alive.
The cautionary note here is this is Mattis presenting the sterling image of himself to the world he wishes to sell to the reading public and to military history. While the General is undoubtedly a very sharp, erudite, determined, and capable man with a nearly boundless supply of restless energy and unquestioned devotion to his Corps, country, and mission, still one must be wary and skeptical of anyone's telling his own story with no critic, pro or con, to confirm or dispute it. According to Mattis, who to be fair endorses relentless personal accountability and who does admit throughout to mistakes and shortcomings (e.g., not finding time to step back and reflect during his tenure as Commander of CENTCOM), it seems that pretty much everything that works is due to the ideas, initiative, and effort of Mattis and his elite network of military associates, while everything that fails is the fault of the ignorant people, both politicians and commanders, over his head. He goes the extra mile to praise his closest military friends, General John Kelly in particular. While the timeworn, black-and-white story line of a rugged American hero who can't spell the word "fail" battling the forces of evil and incompetence within and without will appeal to the many souls weary of our morally and intellectually compromised world, the truth is probably a little more complicated.
Mattis benefits from the hope so many of us placed in him to keep the unprepared, unfit, and inept Donald Trump from steering the ship of state onto a reef and from the inevitable comparison with Trump the General necessarily wins hands down. Besides demolishing the pompous persona of President 45 without ever alluding to him, Mattis comes across as egotistical, self-satisfied, and, well, bloodthirsty in a friendly sort of way. If we have to have wars (of which the dead are still the only ones who've "seen" the end), the Mattis of his memoir is the type of leader required to do the job effectively and ethically. But, is he truly "the perfect image of a modern (four-star) general?" He may well be but I'm withholding judgment until his account has been subjected to serious, informed criticism and debate.
As a psychologist who among other career foci devoted thousands of hours to providing psychological services to Vietnam combat veterans and whose core mission is the pursuit and application of wisdom, I find General Mattis' accounts of his lifelong journey of personal development as a leader compelling. Along the way, the reader learns many pertinent facts about the generals of the past from Xenophon to Viscount Slim as Mattis shares the lessons he gleaned from their writings. Perhaps the most powerful and thought-provoking section of the book is General Mattis' account of his adjudication of a notorious incident of misconduct and error by Marines under his command in the Iraqi town of Haditha on November 19, 2005 that resulted in the deaths of 24 mostly unarmed civilians including women and children. Whatever the truth of that horrendous episode, Mattis provides a clear-eyed analysis of the tragic circumstances of war for combatants and civilians alike as only a thoughtful and seasoned warrior could. I'm reminded when we send young men and women into war, many will be faced with impossible moral dilemmas that unfold in a few short seconds and haunt the survivors for the rest of their lives. It's the duty of our country to do all we can to take care of those who return alive.
The cautionary note here is this is Mattis presenting the sterling image of himself to the world he wishes to sell to the reading public and to military history. While the General is undoubtedly a very sharp, erudite, determined, and capable man with a nearly boundless supply of restless energy and unquestioned devotion to his Corps, country, and mission, still one must be wary and skeptical of anyone's telling his own story with no critic, pro or con, to confirm or dispute it. According to Mattis, who to be fair endorses relentless personal accountability and who does admit throughout to mistakes and shortcomings (e.g., not finding time to step back and reflect during his tenure as Commander of CENTCOM), it seems that pretty much everything that works is due to the ideas, initiative, and effort of Mattis and his elite network of military associates, while everything that fails is the fault of the ignorant people, both politicians and commanders, over his head. He goes the extra mile to praise his closest military friends, General John Kelly in particular. While the timeworn, black-and-white story line of a rugged American hero who can't spell the word "fail" battling the forces of evil and incompetence within and without will appeal to the many souls weary of our morally and intellectually compromised world, the truth is probably a little more complicated.
Mattis benefits from the hope so many of us placed in him to keep the unprepared, unfit, and inept Donald Trump from steering the ship of state onto a reef and from the inevitable comparison with Trump the General necessarily wins hands down. Besides demolishing the pompous persona of President 45 without ever alluding to him, Mattis comes across as egotistical, self-satisfied, and, well, bloodthirsty in a friendly sort of way. If we have to have wars (of which the dead are still the only ones who've "seen" the end), the Mattis of his memoir is the type of leader required to do the job effectively and ethically. But, is he truly "the perfect image of a modern (four-star) general?" He may well be but I'm withholding judgment until his account has been subjected to serious, informed criticism and debate.
Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi post-mortem
I'm glad the US was able to conduct a successful raid to eliminate Abu Bakr a-Baghdadi last night. I wonder if anyone conducted a survey to find out what percentage of US voters were familiar with al-Baghdadi prior to the raid that resulted in his death? I wonder how many could name one specific thing he did during his lifetime? I wonder what percentage believe the threat of ISIS is now eliminated?
Thursday, October 24, 2019
Adventures in Retina Detachment
Dr. Fivgas said my retina is attached again. My instructions are to keep my face pointed down until next Wednesday with the first 3 days being critical. I'm doing my best to comply and Mary Lou thinks I'm doing it well.
How Mattis demolishes Trump without mentioning him.
While constrained to keep my face pointed down, I'm listening to James Mattis' memoir on his career prior to becoming Secretary of Defense under Trump. Mattis' extensive, clear explanations of how he learned to be an effective leader of large and complex organizations over decades of varied experiences shows in a multitude of ways how unprepared, unfit, and incompetent Trump was to be President (not even considering his apparent mental deterioration) without ever alluding to Trump at all.
Monday, October 21, 2019
Slogging through life's mud
Tomorrow I am scheduled to arrive at 6am for a fourth surgical procedure aimed at saving sight in my left eye. I'm beginning to doubt the project will achieve the goal but I'm pressing on. In the first operation, silicone oil was injected into my left eye to help hold the retina in place. I was required to keep my face pointed down for 3 days afterwards so the oil would float upward onto the detached area. Procedure 2 was a lens replacement performed by Dr. Ehrlich. The retina detached partially in the 3rd operation where the silicone oil from the first one was removed, resulting in Dr. Fivgas injecting a gas bubble into my eye to help hold the pesky retina in place. As the gas bubble finally dissolved itself away, the retina detached once more. A film on the artificial lens implanted by Dr. Ehrlich (procedure 2) has prevented me from seeing much since that was done on July 12 but the strange dark spot in the lower left quadrant with occasional bursts of light surrounding it like a halo or corona let me know the retina was detaching. Dr. Fivgas plans to inject silicone oil in my left eye again and I'm expecting post-op instructions requiring me to keep my face pointed down for 3 days as I had to do the first time way back at the beginning of 2019. Frankly I'm tired of the process and am feeling like I'd like it to be resolved one way or the other. Losing sight in my left eye would not be the end of the world. I've gotten by on one eye all year.
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Retinal setback
After 10 months and three surgeries, my retina has started detaching again. I'm going to have another procedure next Tuesday in a continuing effort to save vision in my left eye but I've accepted from the outset all of this ultimately might fail. To quote myself, "We're going to lose everything; it's just a matter of when."
On the passing of Elijah Cummings
His death is the occasion to reflect on his life and accomplishments, one of the greatest being the universal respect and affection he earned from his colleagues on both sides of the aisle. He demonstrated that there's such a thing as a politician who operates with a moral compass and a person with power who uses it to the best of his ability and understanding for the good of all. He embodied what Lincoln meant by "our better angels."
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Response to a Facebook question about why the USA should support Rojava against Turkey.
That's a good question.
The situation in Syria is extremely complicated. The USA supported the Kurds in doing the fighting to retake Syrian territory occupied by ISIS who had set up a functional Islamic State caliphate stretching across Syria and Iraq. The Kurds also set up an autonomous region they call Rojava in northern Syria. The Kurdish region is widely considered to exemplify democratic ideals similar to the ones the United States until recently officially endorsed. It kept the Syrian government under the brutal, Iran and Russia-aligned Assad regime (they've used poison gas on their own citizens, bombed hospitals repeatedly in rebellious areas etc) from having control of oil fields that is could use to finance itself. However, Turkey, which has changed from a nonsecular state to an Islamist authoritarian state under Erdogan, fears that the existence of Rojava will lead to the large Kurdish minority in Turkey rebelling against government control.
With the US withdrawing as a buffer between Turkey and Rojava, the Kurds had little choice but to make a deal with the Syrian government to provide military support against the Turks who are invading across the Syrian border. Now, both Syrian government and Russian forces have moved in where the US formerly had those buffer posts. The ultimate result will be for the Syrian government and Russia to have access to the oilfields if they repel the Turkish invasion. How Turkey responds to this will be interesting- we could see clashes on Syrian territory between Russian and Turkish forces in the near future. Iranian influence will be facilitated, as well, since they are major backers of Assad (who represents a religious minority distinct from Shia and Sunni Islam).
The issue for me was the abandonment of a group that was working against both the Assad regime and ISIS and has been repeatedly repressed (by Syria, Iraq, Turkey and Iran which all have large Kurdish minorities) and thrown under the bus by the UK and France after WW1 and now by the USA. The benefits of our withdrawal to Assad, Putin, Erdogan and ISIS are also of concern as things unfold.
The situation in Syria is extremely complicated. The USA supported the Kurds in doing the fighting to retake Syrian territory occupied by ISIS who had set up a functional Islamic State caliphate stretching across Syria and Iraq. The Kurds also set up an autonomous region they call Rojava in northern Syria. The Kurdish region is widely considered to exemplify democratic ideals similar to the ones the United States until recently officially endorsed. It kept the Syrian government under the brutal, Iran and Russia-aligned Assad regime (they've used poison gas on their own citizens, bombed hospitals repeatedly in rebellious areas etc) from having control of oil fields that is could use to finance itself. However, Turkey, which has changed from a nonsecular state to an Islamist authoritarian state under Erdogan, fears that the existence of Rojava will lead to the large Kurdish minority in Turkey rebelling against government control.
With the US withdrawing as a buffer between Turkey and Rojava, the Kurds had little choice but to make a deal with the Syrian government to provide military support against the Turks who are invading across the Syrian border. Now, both Syrian government and Russian forces have moved in where the US formerly had those buffer posts. The ultimate result will be for the Syrian government and Russia to have access to the oilfields if they repel the Turkish invasion. How Turkey responds to this will be interesting- we could see clashes on Syrian territory between Russian and Turkish forces in the near future. Iranian influence will be facilitated, as well, since they are major backers of Assad (who represents a religious minority distinct from Shia and Sunni Islam).
The issue for me was the abandonment of a group that was working against both the Assad regime and ISIS and has been repeatedly repressed (by Syria, Iraq, Turkey and Iran which all have large Kurdish minorities) and thrown under the bus by the UK and France after WW1 and now by the USA. The benefits of our withdrawal to Assad, Putin, Erdogan and ISIS are also of concern as things unfold.
Friday, October 11, 2019
Jackie Howard letter
Owen Scott, III, Ph.D.
237 Stanford Avenue
Baton Rouge, LA 70808
RE: Jackie Howard
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to recommend Jackie Howard for a position as office manager. I am a retired Clinical Psychologist who was in private practice in Baton Rouge from 1982 through July 2019. Jackie was employed for several years approximately 10 years ago as an office assistant and later office manager for our practice. (I am unable to give exact dates as our employment records are in a storage site.) The position was highly responsible and demanding. Duties included reception, appointment scheduling, starting and maintaining patient charts, recording client visits in our clinical software system, generating standard insurance statements (superbills) and billing statements for patients, recording and relaying messages, bookkeeping, supervising administration of paper-and-pencil tests, computer scoring of tests, billing and collection of accounts, handling incoming and outgoing mail, ordering supplies, and paying vendors and other business expenses.
I know Jackie and her family well and am confident in my opinions of Jackie as an individual and employee. Jackie is an extremely conscientious person with a great work ethic. She is completely honest and trustworthy. She is easy to supervise and work with. Jackie is very open to guidance and willing to accept constructive criticism. She is eager to learn. She worked closely with our accountant who always spoke well of her. I can assure any prospective employer that you will find Jackie to be a dependable, honest, hard-working office manager who will always give you her best effort.
Sincerely,
Owen Scott, III
237 Stanford Avenue
Baton Rouge, LA 70808
RE: Jackie Howard
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to recommend Jackie Howard for a position as office manager. I am a retired Clinical Psychologist who was in private practice in Baton Rouge from 1982 through July 2019. Jackie was employed for several years approximately 10 years ago as an office assistant and later office manager for our practice. (I am unable to give exact dates as our employment records are in a storage site.) The position was highly responsible and demanding. Duties included reception, appointment scheduling, starting and maintaining patient charts, recording client visits in our clinical software system, generating standard insurance statements (superbills) and billing statements for patients, recording and relaying messages, bookkeeping, supervising administration of paper-and-pencil tests, computer scoring of tests, billing and collection of accounts, handling incoming and outgoing mail, ordering supplies, and paying vendors and other business expenses.
I know Jackie and her family well and am confident in my opinions of Jackie as an individual and employee. Jackie is an extremely conscientious person with a great work ethic. She is completely honest and trustworthy. She is easy to supervise and work with. Jackie is very open to guidance and willing to accept constructive criticism. She is eager to learn. She worked closely with our accountant who always spoke well of her. I can assure any prospective employer that you will find Jackie to be a dependable, honest, hard-working office manager who will always give you her best effort.
Sincerely,
Owen Scott, III
Thursday, October 10, 2019
The family archives
I'm in the process of consolidating the family archives in the closet of Jenny's old bedroom with rhe goal of undertaking an inventory and database. There's a wealth of material to go through and catalogue.
Note to self: I went through the bins in my clothes closet and determined that the contents are personal to me- letters, magazines, baseball cards, photos, journals and miscellaneous items.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Infrastructure update
This week so far I've gotten new prescription eyeglasses for my good eye, bought a fancy new Macbook, ordered a manual leaf sweeper, gotten samples of Lotemax to tide me over, come up with a plan for the family archives, and hosted R&B Classics Day on my Morphies page.
Comment on Milton Leathers' post about Trump voters sticking with him
It's not that all of them are stupid or racists, either, Milton. They don't trust the government or politicians in general and they feel like no one has looked after their interests. Many aren't fond of either major party. They're angry and they like the way he tells everyone off. They were and still are willing to give him every chance to do for them and they consume media that says he's the guy who can and will do it. Unfortunately, he doesn't care about those people, either- he thinks everyone except him is a sucker. I hope enough of them wake up to his cynical emptiness in time to limit him to one term or less.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
Bonehead move #4398
It was my turn to host OMG last night. I practiced my songs in the afternoon and felt adequately prepared. Somehow I ended up arriving later than I wanted to but with just enough time to set up by 6pm. Things started ok although I didn't feel as relaxed and comfortable as I'd prefer. I really don't like having to manage the backup tracks on my Macbook while performing my songs for an audience. I made the mistake of putting a big plastic cup of ice water on the small table with the PA board and my Macbook. Sometime midway through my set to open the session I managed to knock the cup over spilling the water directly onto the keyboard! The machine continued to function through the end of my set but I was mentally disrupted. Today, I was relieved when the Macbook restarted after I'd already made an appointment with the Genius Bar on Monday. However the sound function on the Macbook is gone and I was already thinking about retiring it.
Wednesday, October 2, 2019
Country Music
Mary Lou and I watched all 8 episodes of Ken Burns' sweeping documentary on the music of white American working class Southerners. The film was quite well done, full of illuminating facts and tear-jerking moments, many of them conveyed through interviews with the stars and insiders of the vast genre. For those of us having only a superficial knowledge of the C/W world it was like taking Country Music 101. AP Carter scouring the hills with a black assistant to find obscure tunes he could record with his family. Hank Williams dying in the back seat of the car at age 29 taking him to a concert in Canton, Ohio. George Jones obviously suffering from PTSD while being nicknamed "Possum" because of his "beady eyes." Willie Nelson writing a song called "Stupid" and then changing the title to "Crazy" leading to a huge hit for Patsy Cline.
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
My left eye
I spent the heart of the afternoon (2-4pm) at the office of Dr. George Fivgas, the specialist who performed surgery to reattach my retina and is monitoring my recovery. He informed me after all the usual examinations that the gas bubble injected in Procedure 3 has now shrunk down to about 10% of it's original size. However, it left a film on the lens implanted by Dr. Ehrlich that will have to be removed in a fourth surgical procedure. Vision in my left eye should then be restored an an improved level due to the artificial lens which will correct my nearsightedness. Yay. I'm so tired of slogging through this recovery. This evening I'm mentally tired. I've struggled with mental fatigue ever since I was in high school, a condition I chalk up to one of the ill effects of my experiments with hallucinogens. Is that the true cause? I'll never know. The important thing is to maximize the use of my talents and resources while I can. To that end I'll keep seeking answers.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Annoying experience of the day
I got up before 8am this morning and got going ahead of the habitual routine I posted about last night. But, before I could start on my priorities, the Voice Assistant function on my Galaxy smartphone was somehow activated. The phone switched to a completely unfamiliar mode in which anything I touched triggered an aural description of the button or icon. Making matters much worse, it wasn't evident to me what function was in play AND my attempts to open Settings were thwarted by the new mode in which nothing worked as usual. The phone was talking but it wasn't listening! It probably took less than 10 minutes for me to figure it out by trial and error and deactivate Voice Assistant but it felt much longer. At least I'll understand the problem if it happens again... which it probably will!
Friday, September 27, 2019
Time management
I'm usually in no hurry to get out of bed and face human society. Typically, I get up to start my day no earlier than 8am, usually later, 9, 930. I should check my Samsung Wearable sleep records. Anyway, I go downstairs, get a cup of coffee and something to eat, sit in my armchair, and spend the morning reading the news and engaging with social media. Sometime before noon, I water the outdoor flower pots. Then, I have lunch either with Mary Lou at one of our go-to venues or have something easy at home. After all of that I still need to shave and shower. Only then might I initiate musical activity. That is my established habit. I ask myself now, is this how I want to structure my days? I'm capable of changing the pattern if I decide to and make the effort. Why not do it starting tomorrow ?
Monday, September 16, 2019
Ric Ocasek has died
I'm in the waiting room at the Retina Center once more for follow up. Is my recovery progressing on schedule? The gas bubble seems to be dissolving more slowly than expected. I'll find out shortly. Then, it's back to the chaos in my studio. I need to power ahead and get it done. I'm in a great position in life and the clock is ticking! Yesterday, it ran out on one of the greatest rock and roll singer songwriters ever. One day it runs out on each of us, even me.
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Dream on
I remember a number of interesting fragments of dreams from last night and this morning.
-I was visiting friends in Boston. Someone suggested playing some of my original songs. I said I only wanted to if the other musicians liked my songs- I never want to push people to play my songs if they don't really want to. A short while later, I suggested to someone who asked that we were going to play some music but the other musician with me said he had other plans at present.
-Possibly another part of the same dream. I was talking to a young single mother who knew I had been a psychologist. I sensed she wanted to discuss her problems. told her I wasn't looking for a new patient but I'd be glad to speak to her as a friend. I wasn't viewing her as anything other than that.
-I was driving a medium sized truck with passengers that had rather loose power steering making it challenging to maneuver accurately. We were approaching a sort of dirt drive that led to our destination, a house where the people I was visiting lived. Aiming the truck at the drive seemed a little shaky but I managed it.
-There was another fragment where I had to turn a vehicle, perhaps the same one, around to get out of a cul-de-sac.
-Again, possibly all the same dream sequence, I was in a city with friends trying to buy cigarettes. We went into a little cafe or store with a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern proprietor. The man didn't sell them but he either had a hidden supply or knew where we could get some close by. I was walking away thinking or saying to someone that when a recovering alcoholic sang an Irish tune, after each line he was thinking about having a drink.
-I encountered Jane Kelley. She was angry about being kicked out of her apartment without warning. "I really don't know what I'm going to do," she said. I was thinking about offering her to stay with us but also thinking I didn't know if anything she was telling me was true.
-I was visiting friends in Boston. Someone suggested playing some of my original songs. I said I only wanted to if the other musicians liked my songs- I never want to push people to play my songs if they don't really want to. A short while later, I suggested to someone who asked that we were going to play some music but the other musician with me said he had other plans at present.
-Possibly another part of the same dream. I was talking to a young single mother who knew I had been a psychologist. I sensed she wanted to discuss her problems. told her I wasn't looking for a new patient but I'd be glad to speak to her as a friend. I wasn't viewing her as anything other than that.
-I was driving a medium sized truck with passengers that had rather loose power steering making it challenging to maneuver accurately. We were approaching a sort of dirt drive that led to our destination, a house where the people I was visiting lived. Aiming the truck at the drive seemed a little shaky but I managed it.
-There was another fragment where I had to turn a vehicle, perhaps the same one, around to get out of a cul-de-sac.
-Again, possibly all the same dream sequence, I was in a city with friends trying to buy cigarettes. We went into a little cafe or store with a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern proprietor. The man didn't sell them but he either had a hidden supply or knew where we could get some close by. I was walking away thinking or saying to someone that when a recovering alcoholic sang an Irish tune, after each line he was thinking about having a drink.
-I encountered Jane Kelley. She was angry about being kicked out of her apartment without warning. "I really don't know what I'm going to do," she said. I was thinking about offering her to stay with us but also thinking I didn't know if anything she was telling me was true.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
My new job, my eye, and my dream life
I got called in two weeks ago for civic duty selection and ended up being assigned the leading job. It's unlikely anyone will read this post any time soon but I'm playing it safe by only alluding vaguely to what transpired. I'm committed for the next year to doing my part to maintain justice in my community. The job is important and meaningful and I think it's good for me that I was given it.
Overall, I'm grateful for the circumstances my life has brought me to but I'm not satisfied or at peace with self and world. Specifics: My left eye seems to be on the path to full recovery from a detached retina. I say seems because my vision is minimal almost 8 weeks after the third surgical procedure in which a gas bubble was injected into the eye. The gas bubble is supposed to be dissolving gradually and gradually seems like an understatement. I was under the impression it would be gone by now and I would be seeing better than every; but, even the newest estimate of another 3-4 weeks seems optimistic given the imperceptible rate of change. Meanwhile, I'm putting 3 different medicinal drops in my eye for a total of 10 drops daily. I'm grateful for getting first class medical care but this has been going on since February and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired of it. Speaking of tired, I feel tired a large percentage of each day despite spending another large chunk of it sleeping or at least in bed. The two 30mg timed released amphetamine capsules I take daily help somewhat but don't seem as effective as they once were. Then, too, the summer heat in Baton Rouge has been brutal, a harbinger of the climate change disaster that is bearing down on the planet and may well be unstoppable at this point. And there's the dreadful fact of having Donald J. Trump as President of the United States of America. And the boxes and bins of stuff from my office, my parents' home, and my vinyl record project cluttering up the studio I operate in our garage outbuilding. All of this weighs on me. When will it end?
Is the above whining? Don't think so- it's all statements of fact. But I'm frustrated and mildly demoralized, despite knowing that I'm a big winner in the game of human life. I'm tired of my excessive sensitivity and over-considerateness of others. I'm tired of not getting my way in matters of love and music. I'd love to wake up energized and motivated. Why doesn't this happen?
Finally, I've had some disturbing dreams in the past few days. In one I was behaving inappropriately with Jenny Scott who was either oblivious or going along willingly, it seemed.The dream reflected criminal behavior described by prosecutors in my first civic duty experience last Thursday. The only time I ever did anything remotely similar was as a teenager with one of the Wright sisters, the cute one. And then there was the little boy I babysat when I was about 13 or 14. I didn't abuse him egregiously but I skirted the edges, one of the few homosexual impulses I ever recall having. (The other ones occurred when I was slightly older and involved Don M, my next door neighbor who initiated the sex play and much later died of AIDS.) Did I need a reminder that I'm fundamentally no different than egregious sexual offenders except I would never choose to act out like they do?
Even more disturbing, last night (or rather, this morning) I dreamt I had murdered my sister, Scottie, because she was "in the way" of something. I don't know what that was- she's not an obstacle to anything in my current life. But I and an accomplice had taken her by complete surprise and bashed her head in. She was sitting in a chair when we attacked her and somehow she fell to the ground in a way that caused more damage to her head, obscuring the crime we had committed when her body was collected by the authorities. But I was fearful we would be found out and I was anxious to have her body cremated to destroy the evidence. I remember at the end just before I awakened, I was thinking I needed to talk to Steve Jarrett to tell him something... what? that she was dead?
As often happens with a disturbing dream, I was greatly relieved to wake up and realize this was a dream and not waking reality. I know no one ever reads this blog but do I really need to be writing this here? Or anywhere? My commitment to acknowledging the truth, to being accountable, to being honest with myself, and, as much as I deem safe, being honest with the world is strong. I've never been afraid to face truth in my own thoughts, except during moments of paranoia where I've been afraid that I'm in Hell and had a sense that I wanted to avoid knowing that as much and as long as possible. But from Hell there's no escape and avoidance is only a temporary measure.
And there it is, I'm facing that, too. I faced it many years ago. It's the scariest thought I've ever had, the scariest thought I can imagine. Is there anything I haven't been willing or able to face? It seems to me I've surrendered to truth, surrendered to the transcendent creator of the universe, whoever or whatever it is. I'm humble, I recognize that I'm not certain of much, that I'm not better or worse than all the other members of my species. What else do I need to do with myself in this life?
Overall, I'm grateful for the circumstances my life has brought me to but I'm not satisfied or at peace with self and world. Specifics: My left eye seems to be on the path to full recovery from a detached retina. I say seems because my vision is minimal almost 8 weeks after the third surgical procedure in which a gas bubble was injected into the eye. The gas bubble is supposed to be dissolving gradually and gradually seems like an understatement. I was under the impression it would be gone by now and I would be seeing better than every; but, even the newest estimate of another 3-4 weeks seems optimistic given the imperceptible rate of change. Meanwhile, I'm putting 3 different medicinal drops in my eye for a total of 10 drops daily. I'm grateful for getting first class medical care but this has been going on since February and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired of it. Speaking of tired, I feel tired a large percentage of each day despite spending another large chunk of it sleeping or at least in bed. The two 30mg timed released amphetamine capsules I take daily help somewhat but don't seem as effective as they once were. Then, too, the summer heat in Baton Rouge has been brutal, a harbinger of the climate change disaster that is bearing down on the planet and may well be unstoppable at this point. And there's the dreadful fact of having Donald J. Trump as President of the United States of America. And the boxes and bins of stuff from my office, my parents' home, and my vinyl record project cluttering up the studio I operate in our garage outbuilding. All of this weighs on me. When will it end?
Is the above whining? Don't think so- it's all statements of fact. But I'm frustrated and mildly demoralized, despite knowing that I'm a big winner in the game of human life. I'm tired of my excessive sensitivity and over-considerateness of others. I'm tired of not getting my way in matters of love and music. I'd love to wake up energized and motivated. Why doesn't this happen?
Finally, I've had some disturbing dreams in the past few days. In one I was behaving inappropriately with Jenny Scott who was either oblivious or going along willingly, it seemed.The dream reflected criminal behavior described by prosecutors in my first civic duty experience last Thursday. The only time I ever did anything remotely similar was as a teenager with one of the Wright sisters, the cute one. And then there was the little boy I babysat when I was about 13 or 14. I didn't abuse him egregiously but I skirted the edges, one of the few homosexual impulses I ever recall having. (The other ones occurred when I was slightly older and involved Don M, my next door neighbor who initiated the sex play and much later died of AIDS.) Did I need a reminder that I'm fundamentally no different than egregious sexual offenders except I would never choose to act out like they do?
Even more disturbing, last night (or rather, this morning) I dreamt I had murdered my sister, Scottie, because she was "in the way" of something. I don't know what that was- she's not an obstacle to anything in my current life. But I and an accomplice had taken her by complete surprise and bashed her head in. She was sitting in a chair when we attacked her and somehow she fell to the ground in a way that caused more damage to her head, obscuring the crime we had committed when her body was collected by the authorities. But I was fearful we would be found out and I was anxious to have her body cremated to destroy the evidence. I remember at the end just before I awakened, I was thinking I needed to talk to Steve Jarrett to tell him something... what? that she was dead?
As often happens with a disturbing dream, I was greatly relieved to wake up and realize this was a dream and not waking reality. I know no one ever reads this blog but do I really need to be writing this here? Or anywhere? My commitment to acknowledging the truth, to being accountable, to being honest with myself, and, as much as I deem safe, being honest with the world is strong. I've never been afraid to face truth in my own thoughts, except during moments of paranoia where I've been afraid that I'm in Hell and had a sense that I wanted to avoid knowing that as much and as long as possible. But from Hell there's no escape and avoidance is only a temporary measure.
And there it is, I'm facing that, too. I faced it many years ago. It's the scariest thought I've ever had, the scariest thought I can imagine. Is there anything I haven't been willing or able to face? It seems to me I've surrendered to truth, surrendered to the transcendent creator of the universe, whoever or whatever it is. I'm humble, I recognize that I'm not certain of much, that I'm not better or worse than all the other members of my species. What else do I need to do with myself in this life?
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Something is wrong with my Bible!
My NIV has this in Matthew 25
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.
42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
This seems pretty straightforward to me but apparently the evangelicals and other nominal Christians who support Trump have a different New Testament.
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.
42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
This seems pretty straightforward to me but apparently the evangelicals and other nominal Christians who support Trump have a different New Testament.
The future of humanity
Posted as a comment on Facebook after reading this article. I've tended to be an optimist about human potential- look at the amazing, positive things we've accomplished in just a few thousand years. Like most everyone, I've always taken for granted humanity would survive, thrive, and progress. I figured we'd work things out over several more millennia and evolve into a peaceful and enlightened global society. I saw the cautionary sci-fi film "The Forbidden Planet" when I was a youth and thought this (the collapse and extinction of an advanced civilized species) wouldn't happen to us.
Recently, looking at how short-sighted, shallow, narrow-minded, materialistic, and foolishly narcissistic our powerful world leaders are (not to mention regional and local ones with occasional exceptions) as they lead us into cultural wars, environmental disaster, multiple epidemics of behavioral-driven health issues, massive weapons development, manufacture, and distribution (from handguns to nukes), and concentration of wealth and power in the hands of a tiny minority of people while keeping the vast majority in states of need (to name a few of the big problem areas), and the failure of our spiritual communities to put their highest values into daily practice (such as standing against racism, sexism, violence, and intolerance and caring for the disadvantaged and oppressed), I'm not so sure. At best, I'm expecting some very rough times ahead as I move into the late stages of life and after I'm gone. You're one of the lonely voices of wisdom and compassion crying in the wilderness and I'm fortunate to be close to others, too. So we'll slog on creating small islands of sanity and love around ourselves, reaching out to those with ears to hear, and hoping for the best. 💕
Recently, looking at how short-sighted, shallow, narrow-minded, materialistic, and foolishly narcissistic our powerful world leaders are (not to mention regional and local ones with occasional exceptions) as they lead us into cultural wars, environmental disaster, multiple epidemics of behavioral-driven health issues, massive weapons development, manufacture, and distribution (from handguns to nukes), and concentration of wealth and power in the hands of a tiny minority of people while keeping the vast majority in states of need (to name a few of the big problem areas), and the failure of our spiritual communities to put their highest values into daily practice (such as standing against racism, sexism, violence, and intolerance and caring for the disadvantaged and oppressed), I'm not so sure. At best, I'm expecting some very rough times ahead as I move into the late stages of life and after I'm gone. You're one of the lonely voices of wisdom and compassion crying in the wilderness and I'm fortunate to be close to others, too. So we'll slog on creating small islands of sanity and love around ourselves, reaching out to those with ears to hear, and hoping for the best. 💕
Thursday, August 8, 2019
A parable of Presidential consolation
Final thought: Suppose a famous politician came to Athens, Georgia and held a rally where he said, "Athens is a hotbed of socialists and Antifa, the kind of people who want to turn the USA into a communist state. We have to stop them at all costs." Subsequently, a radical individual who already hated liberals and progressives and believed they want to confiscate all guns, have completely open borders, provide free healthcare to illegal immigrants that many US citizens don't have, and put globalists in charge of the Deep State travels 600 miles to Athens and using a modified assault weapon (obtained legally) commits an act of mass murder of random Athens civilians including some of your friends before being stopped by policemen. In a manifesto published online just ahead of the massacre, the terrorist wrote, "Don't blame (the famous politician)- he didn't make me do it." The politician's spokespeople argue it's just a coincidence the terrorist shares core issues with the famous politician and happened to pick the town the famous politician had recently vilified. A few days later, the politician condemns radical terrorist acts in a short speech and comes to town to "console the survivors and bring people together" while continuing the same rhetoric in interviews and Tweets. Would you welcome the visit? Would it bother you if a private citizen from Athens running for office said the politician wasn't welcome? What if the politician was a demagogic socialist-leaning US President who visited a city in WV and railed about coal and climate change prior to a massacre being inflicted on the town by a radical environmentalist and a conservative townsperson running for the GOP nomination suggested the President stay away? Would that be inappropriate? Not in my book.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
Is anger a secondary emotion?
Whether we think of anger as primary or secondary, it's
important to realize anger serves the important purpose of energizing you to
stand up against threats to yourself and people you care about. Many of us,
especially those who've been treated abusively by angry parents and significant
others, come to think anger is bad and should be suppressed. Certainly, anger
is easily misused by aggressive individuals for whom it works like a drug to
create a sense of power. People who don't have those tendencies are unlikely to
become anger abusers. They're more likely to suppress or deny their anger while
allowing aggressors to continue misusing them. People who think anger is bad are susceptible
to being gaslit by people who have no sense of shame. IMO, channeling our anger
constructively is the healthy middle path. Case in point, I'm quite angry about
the current political situation in the USA that fuels incidents such as
yesterday's mass murder in El Paso. I'm channeling this anger into doing what I
can to get the current administration and it's Congressional supporters out of
office and elect people who share my values of compassion, respect for women,
respect for diversity of ethnicity, culture, and sexual orientation, moral
decency, concern for the environment, concern for justice, concern about income
and wealth divergence, belief in science etc. On a personal level, I believe in
expressing anger respectfully when I have an issue with someone I'm close to
and talking through the issue. I also believe in listening respectfully and not
being defensive when the other person is angry at me (this is very difficult
and I'm not always successful at it). Suppression of anger leads to being
passive-aggressive, another thing I and many other have to watch out for.
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