Change of Seasons

This week marks the transition from winter, broadly speaking, to summer, broadly speaking. I'll be going to Boston on three successive evenings for the last of types of events until next fall (autumn) and one next to last. It will be a play on Wednesday, the penultimate Boston Symphony concert on Thursday, and the final Harvard Musical Association evening on Friday. Then on Saturday, the yacht club officially opens for the summer at noon.

I'll be helping to run sailboat races on various weekends and a few evenings from May 30 through September 26. Symphony will resume in October, as will HMA. The club will officially close at the end of October. Baseball season overlaps both ends, beginning in early April and running through October. I'll watch most Red Sox games on TV.

So as April ends my focus shifts from attending events in Boston to sailboat races and televised baseball games, and that's how it is through September. Of course, church is big all year.

An Evening in the Theater

On Friday evening, I went to Boston to see "Breath and Imagination," about Roland Hayes (1887-1977), a son of former slaves who had a groundbreaking career as a classical tenor. I had expected it to focus more on his concert career, but it turned out to be mostly about his youth and education — how he matured into the successful singer he was — apparently having been inspired by hearing phonograph records of Enrico Caruso. Well-sung opera can be mesmerizing for people whose first encounter with it is devoid of prejudice against it.

At any rate, it's quite a story of his rise from rural poverty to international renown. The play focuses on his first twenty-five years, and on an incident in Georgia in 1942. He had bought the plantation where his parents had been slaves and was opening an integrated music school, when his wife and daughter were refused service in a shoe store in Rome, GA, because they inadvertently sat in the "Whites Only" section, and he was beaten by the police for protesting their treatment. There is a bit about his self-produced sell out concert in Symphony Hall in Boston, where he lived most of his adult life, and a bit about his concert experiences in Europe in the 1920's, and nothing about his life after 1942.

While the play turned out to have a different focus from what I had expected, the story it told may have been more important and inspiring than the story I expected. All in all, it's quite a story of triumph over adversity through hard work and determination to succeed.

Here are some recordings of  various sorts of music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSiI9cx0G4U

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlF8XDXqQjo&list=PL4229DCCC99FA1C9B&index=1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Wl9GHf2Uoo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Sibe38cQPQ  In 1923, he sang in Berlin. When he appeared on stage there was hissing and catcalls for a long period, maybe ten minutes. He stood there until the audience quieted and then sang "Du bist die Ruh" and won them over.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8NGQGIogys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2Is7R4XVbo

Two Plays in Two Days

Last week, I went to performances of "Awake and Sing," by Clifford Odets, on Wednesday, and "The Trip to Bountiful," by Horton Foote, on Thursday. Both were plays that I had wanted to see as soon as the productions were announced, and both were worth seeing, in my opinion, although the second has partially eclipsed the former in my mind.


"Awake and Sing" is about a family in Brooklyn in the 1930's, i.e., during the Great Depression. There are the parents of an adult daughter and an adult son, the mother's father, and a couple of love interests for the young people. The mother dominates the family while the children try to establish their independence. The grandfather, a marxist, encourages the young man. Ultimately the young woman leaves her husband and infant daughter for the man she loves, while the young man will be liberated by receiving the proceeds of his grandfather's life insurance policy.

I guess the play is intended to show the struggle of a family in the Depression, and I think it succeeds. The characters don't seem to be stereotypical, but they do seem to be plausible — each a possible person in the circumstances. The actors all portrayed their characters well, except that the young man overacted a bit, in my opinion.


"The Trip to Bountiful"  takes us forward about 18 years to see another impoverished family. This time it is a husband and wife and his mother, living in a two room house in Houston, Texas. After 20 years in Houston, the mother, Carrie, is nostalgic for her hometown of Bountiful, on the Gulf Coast. Her daughter-in-law, Jessie Mae, who is the homeowner, resents her hymn singing but wants the contribution to household expenses provided by the government check (Social Security) that Carrie gets monthly. Carrie has tried to go back to Bountiful at least twice. Once more Carrie sets out for Bountiful, which has become almost completely depopulated since she left. She imagines living the rest of her life there. Spoiler alert: the remainder of the paragraph gives the outcome. This time she succeeds, with some help from people she meets along the way. But when she gets to Bountiful, she learns that the friend she had hoped to visit and stay with, has just died. When she gets to her old home, now in disrepair, her son and daughter-in-law arrive to bring her back to Houston. She is now content to return, having had this final visit to the town, and there is at least a tentative reconciliation between Carrie and Jessie Mae and the prospect of a satisfactory life.

What I consider remarkable about the play is that it was written in 1962 for white actors and was played that way, including in a 1985 movie which starred Geraldine Page. Cicely Tyson saw it and told her agent she wanted him to get her a comparable role, and then she could retire. In 2011, he got her, not merely a comparable role, but the actual role of Carrie. And the play works so well with black characters that I never thought it was unrealistic, except maybe for a white sheriff being helpful in a way a sheriff might not have been to a black woman in 1953. The themes of poverty, family friction, and nostalgia for the scenes of one's youth are not limited by race or ethnicity.

The theater was nearly sold out, and it seemed to me that there was a higher percentage of black audience members than usual, which is hardly surprising, but in conversation with the two young black ladies seated to my left, I learned that they are members of Arts Emerson, as I am, and had attended several other shows that I had.

2014 October in Review

Theater.  I start with this because the month started with it — and ended with it.

    On October 1, I went to the Huntington Theatre [sic] production of  "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner." My brother joined me because I made the mistake of mentioning that I wanted to go, and he invited himself to come along. I don't know if he thinks every time I say I'm planning to buy a ticket it's an invitation to him, or if he's just pushy. Oh well, it didn't ruin the evening for me.

     The lead actor was Malcolm-Jamal Warner, who played Theo on "The Cosby Show." It was nicely performed; and since I never saw the movie, it also gave some questions to ponder. Do we rationalize our prejudices? Do we cooperate in, or at least accept as inevitable, out oppression. How easy is it for us to misjudge the motives of others? How far have we moved beyond the racism of 50 years ago?

     October 17 saw me attending Arts Emerson's presentation of a performance of Shakespeare's "King Lear" by a touring cast from Shakespeare's Globe in London (England). The accents sometimes got in the way of catching every word, especially when they shouted (but it was fun to notice that Gloucester used a different accent from the others). Since most of the actors played several roles, it was sometimes difficult to tell who was which character. But the general action was clear enough. I was surprised to realize that the wickedness of Regan and Goneril seems unmotivated, but on further thought, I guess Shakespeare didn't share the Enlightenment notion that people are naturally good, and so need a motive to do evil.

     A week later, it was back to Arts Emerson for a South African take on Mozart's "The Magic Flute," with the orchestra replaced by marimbas. The Tamino was good-looking, the Queen of the Night dispatched the "Revenge" aria with ease (maybe transposed down a notch or two), and a good time was had by all, myself included; but it wasn't as good as a normal performance in an opera house.

     On Hallowe'en I escaped trick-or-treaters and bookended the month with another Huntington Theatre [sic] show, "Ether Dome," about the discovery of general anæsthesia. It was a fascinating story of how a Hartford dentist realized that nitrous oxide (laughing gas blocked pain during surgery), but his demonstration at Mass General Hospital failed. Then his former assistant learned that sulphuric ether also worked and gave a successful demonstration. Reviewers suggested that the play was too complex to follow, but I didn't find it so. It was a fine introduction to some history about which all I had known was that the first demonstration of ether as a general anæsthetic had occurred at MGH in the mid 19th Century.


Symphony.  I attended four Boston Symphony concerts — on the 2nd, 21st, 23rd, and 30th of the month. You can read about them on my music blog. I was originally scheduled for the 16th, but exchanged for the 21st (same program) so I could join a dinner group at the yacht club. As for the music, I'll add to what's on the music blog that I found "The Miraculous Mandarin" on the 2nd an appropriately moody piece — one I wasn't very familiar with — the "German Requiem" on the 23rd very stirring, and the Schubert symphony on the 30th very satisfactorily performedÚ it's a piece I like but quite long, but it never got boring in this performance.


Etc.  At church we had a seminary professor deliver a series of four talks about St. Paul, his life, work, and letters. They took place on the Wednesday evenings from the 8th through the 29th. This professor has given series on other biblical topics twice a year for several years. He knows his material very well and can express it clearly and answer questions completely, so the talks are always worthwhile.

     The pastor of my parish has a number of people who bring Holy Communion on a regular basis to homebound members of the parish (as well as doing a lot himself). He asked me to take over for him with one man who lives near me. The man and his wife are originally from Ontario, but they've lived here for maybe 30 years. He's Catholic and she isn't. This is the first time he's asked me to do this, so I'm pleased to be included in that aspect of ministry. OTOH, I'm not very good at small talk, but I want to make the visits more than just walking in, giving Communion, and walking back out. Hopefully I'll get more comfortable with them as I get to know them better.

     I attended a "Convocation" on social justice on Saturday the 25th.  The keynote speaker gave a good talk about the place of teachings about social justice within the life of the Church. That was followed by a couple of panel discussions, also good. A highlight was when someone commented from the floor that some of her son's friends were kicked out of their homes when their parents learned that they were involved with a gang. his woman took them in and gave them guidance, and all but one or two managed to avoid trouble with the law and become law-abiding adults.

     On Sunday the 12th my brother and I went to the opening concert of the Handel and Haydn Society's 150th season. They called it "Baroque Fireworks," and, as the title suggests, it was all pretty lively — nothing very serious, but it was all fun listening. Here's another example of my brother inviting himself. I had been going to H&H concerts for a couple of years and at some point (maybe in one of the weekly calls from our kid brother in Tokyo) I mentioned that I was attending them. He said he'd like to join me, and I didn't have the heartlessness to tell him I'd rather go by myself. Again, as with the play, it's not awful having him join me, but I do like being free: either going by myself or choosing my companion. No doubt I'd feel differently if we were better friends. When I was a pre-teen I was always happy to be with him.

     It was my team's turn to cook for the soup kitchen on the 27th. Each member prepares three three-pound meatloaves, bakes eighteen potatoes, and supplies three bags of frozen corn. We drop them off at the home of the woman who coordinates our team, and she brings them to the soup kitchen. We do this on the fourth Monday of the even-numbered months.

     My table reading* since the end of August was Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, by Eric Metaxas. I finished it on October 30 (or more likely in the early hours of the 31st). It's a well written and quite complete account of the life of the pastor who wrote The Cost of Discipleship, coined or popularized the term "cheap grace," opposed Nazism, was peripherally involved in the plot(s) to kill Hitler, and was executed a few weeks before the defeat of Germany in WWII. It seems I'm doing a trilogy on the Nazi era. My next book was The Shadow of His Wings, by Gereon Goldmann, and now I've begun Jan Karski's Story of a Secret State. I'll have something to say about those two books when I report on November.

     The depressed guy I mentioned in the post about September didn't choose to join me at any of the theatrical or symphony events. But on Nov. 11, he called because I had added another event happening this Friday. We talked for a while, and there are some groups he's involved in, so it seems he's managing to keep active despite the depression. He did say that he'd continue to consider the events I mentioned to him.

     I guess that about covers the stuff that's worth mentioning. There were a few days when it was warm and humid enough to go naked for extended periods. As the drier air of winter comes along, it becomes less comfortable to be clothes-free, and I'm generally clothed from the time I get dressed to go to Mass until I got to bed.

* "Table reading" is reading a book when I am having dinner alone at home. The books for table reading are generally a bit more serious than my restaurant books. In the restaurant, you read before the first item arrives at your table and between courses, so you have to be able to break off whenever the waiter delivers something. At home, there is no time between courses: you take some food, read for a while, repeat. So you can keep going as long as you want in order to let the author make a point.

My Trip to PEI, August 2014 — Part 2: Two Days on the Island

Marian likes to plan activities, and she had several items planned for my visit. She knew that I'd like to go to Mass, so she informed me that there would be Mass in the church just up the street on Tuesday and Thursday at 9:00 am. Shee didn't go to it, but I did. After her yoga class we headed off to her mother's apartment (assisted living?). The mother is 90ish, sometimes uses a walker, and is still in excellent shape mentally. Marian prepared a nice lunch for us. As we were finishing, a brother of hers showed up for a visit and ate the leftovers that could have been the mother's lunch the next day.

Next we visited the graveyard where her father and other ancestors are buried, picked raspberries (2 pints at $3.00 each, which I paid for since she was short of cash), and got a half gallon of ice cream for the berries (again I paid). I also bought 500g of Island honey to bring home. Back at her house, I heard an interview on the radio with two of the actors in the Watermark Theatre Company of North Rustico's production of "The Lion in Winter," and decided to go. Marian had wanted to have me go with her to Dalvay-by-the-Sea to enjoy some of their sticky date pudding. By rushing through supper, we were able to leave in time to get to Dalvay and have the pudding — very tasty — pick up a friend of hers in Rustico, and get to the theatre in good time for the show. The friend's birthday was the next day, so Marian paid for his ticket as a present, while I picked up our two. I thought the show was well acted, but the play never explained why the 12th century Plantagenets were constantly intriguing against one another as the author imagines them. Maybe it's just the desire of each to be in control. One interesting bit was the indication of a homosexual liaison between Richard Lionheart and the King Philip of France, when Philip was 15 (a few years before the action of the play).

On Wednesday she planned for me to visit her Aunt Mary's widower at a seniors' home in the morning and to meet her in mid-afternoon for a visit to one of Mary's lifelong friends. (It had been Mary who had kept in contact with my mother for many years and had supplied our address to Marian just before Mom died.) The visits both went well. Mary's husband was drowsy and kept nodding off, but seemed happy to have my visit. The friend was even sharper than Marian's mother, and had a lot of reminiscences of history of our family and friends.

Between those visits, I went to Mass at St. Dunstan's Basilica, bought a ticket for "1864: The Tall Hat Chronicles," had a lunch of fish and chips, and bought a couple of souvenir magnets at Province House, where the Charlottetown Conference of 1864 took place. After the visit with the family friend, I was invited to dinner at Cousin Ed's. He's the one whom I just missed seeing the evening I arrived. So I had a nice visit with him and his wife and their 6-year-old son.

After dinner, I went to the theater for "1864: The Tall Hat Chronicles," (links to video and audio) which was, surprisingly, the only thing I could find which directly dealt with the 1864 conference — and it did so in a zany and often risqué manner. It was really funny. The show began at 9:00 p.m., and when it was over shortly after 11:00 it was raining. I checked the map to be sure how to get to the route back to Marian's. As I drove through the rain in the dark, I was amazed at how blurry everything was. After I missed a turn about ½ mile from Marian's, I checked the map again, and as I did so I realized that I had been wearing my reading glasses. Things became much clearer once I changed to my driving glasses.


Still to come: Thursday on the Island, and then going home.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream" and Other Doings

I started writing this on March 17, but got tied up with other things. Oh wee, maybe now there will be more to talk abot. We'll see as I go along.)

It's Last week was a big week for concert-going, which I'mve reportinged on my music blog. But in addition, I went last Friday on March 14 to a performance of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by the Bristol Old Vic from England. I've seen bits and pieces of the play before, and maybe the whole thing once about 30 years ago, but this was unusual in several ways. One was the lack of more than the most minimal scenery. Another was the element of puppetry. Hermia and Theseus became Titania and Oberon by holding masks at arm's length, and Oberon also used a large mechanical hand at the end of a pole (quite skillfully). And Bottom's transformation into an ass was accomplished, not by having him wear the animal's head but by putting oversized donkey ears on his feet, exposing his bottom (for the cheeks to be caressed) and having him wheel himself around the stage on some big contraption. I guess you had to be there. Anyway, it all made about as much sense as is possible for that play, and it got funnier as it went along, culminating with a hilarious "Pyramus and Thisbe."

We're having a mini holiday season, with St. Patrick's  and St. Joseph's days last week, and Annunciation this evening. I celebrated each properly by having dinner in a nice restaurant (and got a fair amount of reading done in my restaurant book, What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell).

Tomorrow's Boston Symphony is not part of my subscriptions, but the Harvard Musical Associayion is having a "social evening" for the members, which, as always, includes a concert. I'll have my usual pre-concert dinner at Scollay Square Restaurant. On Friday, I have to go to Boston again for a performance of  Checkhov's "The Seagull" — not entirely sure whether I'l, have dinner at home afterwards, or somewhere in Boston before.

Lent is supposed to be a time of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; and here I am spending money on nice dinners. Someone suggested that what people should do in Lent is match their restaurant tabs with charitable contributions. I just may do it.

Catching Up

Actually, there haven't been a lot of events to write about since I did my post on February 8.

I went to the theater in Boston on February 13 to see "Red Eye to Havre de Grace," a play with music about the last days of Edgar Allan Poe (who, I was surprised to learn, was born and raised in Boston, the son of actors who had immigrated from England). It showed his impecuniousness, and his attempts to present his latest ideas about the origin and destiny of the universe, which he had spelled out in a book titled "Eureka." While there is, as the playwrights note, some slight foreshadowing of the Big Bang theory, mostly it came across as incomprehensible. On the lecture circuit, where he tried to present his theory, audiences were more interested in hearing him recite "The Raven," which he found very frustrating. All the while, he was haunted by the death of his wife. After a lecture in Philadelphia, he was supposed to go to New York, but he was seen headed south on the train going to Havre de Grace. Several days later he died in a hospital in Baltimore. It was fascinating to see the depiction of this unfold.

Amazingly, perhaps, I've only been to one concert during this time: the Boston Symphony on February 20. But the BSO has only given one other on a Thursday in that time, namely, "Salome" on March 6. I had a ticket for it but exchanged it for the concert on March 18, when they'll play Beethoven piano concertos and one of the Leonore overtures — part of a series which will include all 5 piano concertos, all 3 Leonore overtures, and the triple concerto. I'll get to all of them. As for the Harvard Musical Association, they had a concert on March 7, but I forgot about it until it would have been difficult to get there.

But I have been making plans. My 50th college reunion will be May 29-June 1 in D.C. I've registered for it and made my flight and hotel reservations. I've also made arrangements to spend June 23-27 at the monastery I thought of joining shortly after college. It will partly be a spiritual retreat, and partly a visit with my old friends. At some point in the summer, I'll go to PEI to visit my cousins and see some of the festivities marking the 150th anniversary of the Charlottetown Conference. And I'm very much looking forward to meeting (former?) fellow blogger Peter when he visits Boston for a Pops concert conducted by John Williams.

I went to the movies a couple of days ago and saw "12 Years a Slave." It's a powerful depiction of the evils of slavery in the pre Civil War South.

As I watched videos of Pete Seeger after his death, I came across a couple with Johnny Cash in them. Following links from those, I was reminded of the Carter Family. (Johnny Cash had married Maybelle Carter's daughter June.)I had first encountered the Carters' music through recordings of some of their songs by Joan Baez early in her career, and I had bought a couple of LP compilations of some of their songs. I started listening to videos of that music (audio, mostly, accompanied by pictures) and became really fascinated by them — so much so that I went to Amazon and bought three books about them, a set of 5 CD's of their earliest recordings, and a CD and vinyl LP of Sara and Maybelle. I even toyed with the idea of going to Virginia early in August to attend a couple of performances at the Carter Family Fold, but I don't think I can afford it this year, with all the other trips I have planned.

If you're interested in hearing what the Carter Family actually sounded like, here are some links.

Bury Me under the Weeping Willow, the first song they recorded. This may be a later recording of the song, but it gives the full flavor of what they could do. (Some of the accompanying photos, with children, are for a spread that was made for Life magazine in the fall of 1941. It was preempted by the attack on Pearl Harbor and never got published.) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCniFuHlPG0

Wildwood Flower, which became one of the signature tunes for Maybelle and her daughters. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4xjqpARrHM

The Storms Are on the Ocean, the fourth song recorded the first day in Bristol, Tenn. (That's Jimmie Rodgers at the left in the photo, which dates from several years later.) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-iXemfEkFw

The Poor Orphan Child, third song they recorded. I hadn't heard it until this year, and it became an earworm for me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-EkYhJR3gs

When the World's on Fire, with a tune that Woddy Guthrie later used for This Land Is Your Land. The Carters also used it for Little Darling Pal of Mine. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxo-zayI6tE

Farther On, sung by Sara in about 1966-7 on a reunion album with Maybelle (but this is a solo by Sara, at age 69), nearly 40 years after the original recordings. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OSxpkNHshw

You'll see links to lots of other videos. God Gave Noah (pron. Noay) the Rainbow Sign contains the line, "the fire next time." The later ones with Sara and Maybelle have their own interest. I find the 8 minute one especially interesting — it contains some reminiscences by Sara along with footage of the two performing.

A Play and Two Encounters with Homeless Men

A Play.  This evening I went into Boston to see a play titled "We Are Proud to Present a Presentation about the Herero of Namibia Formerly Known as South-West Africa, From the German Sudwestafrika Between the Years 1884-1915," or, for short, "We Are Proud to Present a Presentation …"  It depicts a troupe of actors trying to prepare a dramatization about the genocide which reduced the Herero tribe from 80,000 to 15,000 during the period of German colonial rule.Their main problems are that they have little primary material other than letters sent home by German soldiers and that there are differing opinions about how to go about constructing the play. There is a lot of comedy along the way, especially in the earlier parts of the play, but it does give an outline of the events of German rule as a lecture at the beginning (which works surprisingly well as a bit of theater). There were lots of laughs and some serious issues raised.

Two Encounters.  As I was walking down Washington Street from the subway station toward the theater, I noticed a young man sitting on the concrete pedestal of a light pole. As I approached he asked me if I could spare a dollar or some change for a homeless man, and he thanked me for looking at him. As I reached into my pocket, I asked how he came to be homeless, and he said he had lost his job because his employer had lost business in the poor economy. I had pulled some bills from my pocket intending to give him a dollar. As I looked at the money, I thought that it would be easier to take two of the dollar bills and hand them to him than to separate one of them. But I made the effort, and pulled a single bill from the bunch. Why am I so stingy? Nevertheless, not knowing that I had thought of giving him more, he thanked me and said, "God bless you." I hope he will.

When I got to the theater, I discovered that I was mistaken in thinking that the performance started at 7:30. It wasn't until 8:00, and the lobby wasn't even open yet. So I walked around, looking for a Dunkin' Donuts, where I bought a jelly donut and a small black coffee. (For years coffee and a jelly donut was my workday breakfast.) I ate the donut there and then headed out to have my coffee. When I got back to the theater, I hadn't finished it, so I continued down the street, and encountered a maybe 40ish man who asked for money. I stopped, and he remarked that most people pay no attention: on a recent evening nobody in the crowd leaving the theater paid him any attention. I gave him a dollar. He asked my name. I told him, "Joe," and asked his. "Chuck," he said, and extended his hand up toward me; and we shook hands.

By then I had had all I wanted of the coffee. I found a trash receptacle, poured the remaining coffee down a nearby storm drain (for which a passerby complimented me), and put the cup in the trash. As I headed back to the theater, I passed Chuck, and we exchanged brief greetings, which I hoped would encourage anybody who heard it to think of giving him something.

Two Blogs and a Play

My 501st post was about Thanksgiving, not, as I had promised, about a couple of blogs I like. So here's what I wanted to say, plus a bit about my doings.

One of the blogs I'd recommend taking a look at is Spiritual Friendship. It is a group effort, with two editors and twelve additional contributors. Some of their names are familiar to me and others are not. But I think well of those I know, and I suppose the others are comparably good. They say that they "believe that marriage is not the only way of life God calls us to, and so we seek to explore different ways of serving God in celibacy. And Christ-centered friendship is, we believe, essential to that task." The idea that friendship is important is not new, and I expect that the thoughtful essays they present can be helpful.

They sometimes expand their scope beyond matters of friendship strictly speaking to include other topics related to gay people. For example, there was an article about Tom Daley's "coming out."

Their description of the blog includes this as well. "In trying to create a new approach to homosexuality, we have drawn on the wisdom found in the broader Christian tradition. We explore God's calling, the nature of the Church,celibacy, our nature as embodied souls, and related topics. Thus, what began as questions addressed to our situation as celibate gay Christians has led to answers which may be of interest to a much larger Christian audience."

So I see this blog as something which can encourage those among us who want to be celibate, can demonstrate the reasonableness as well as the possibility of celibacy for those who are wondering if it what they are called to — those who are asking themselves what kind of life they ought to lead, what kind of life they can lead — and can provide any who may consider "Side B" somehow homophobic a clear example of non-homophobic upholders of the "Side B" view.

As I've been writing this, I was drawn into reading a few of the articles and, in addition to the recent one on Tom Daley and this more recent one about romantic love, I highly recommend looking at this one from last August about C.S. Lewis's very balanced take on homosexuality. Those should give you some idea of what the blog is about, and I hope you'll find it worth reading.

The other blog is Mudblood Catholic. The blogger is a young man named Gabriel Blanchard, "a gay Catholic bookworm (incorporated into the Anglican Use in 2013). Huge fan of indie and electronica, as well as Mediaeval, Renaissance, and Baroque music. I have a degree in Classics, and get paid to snark across an espresso bar. I can be reached by Nigerian princes who need my assistance at gabrielblanchard25@gmail.com.." In his first post, he explains the word "Mudblood," for the benefit of those of us who haven't read the Harry Potter books. In his case, he means that he is a convert to Catholicism. But his choice of such a striking word gives you an idea of how visceral his approach is.

That first post gives a glimpse of his thinking and his original intent for the blog. I haven't read through the whole thing, even though it is still less than a year old, but based on what I have read, I think I'd do well to take the time for it. I'd suggest looking at a couple of posts — almost any will do — to get an idea of what he's about. His ideas are in some ways very unusual and striking,  and his writing is visceral, as I said, and personally revealing. Don't let the intensity scare you off.

Each blog in its own way does some of what I wanted this blog to do, and I'll probably find myself occasionally recommending posts from them here and/or on Twitter. But don't wait for me. Look for yourselves.


Wednesday evening, I trekked in to Boston to see a play presented by the Huntington Theatre Company, "The Cocktail Hour," by A. R. Gurney. Just in case the page I've linked goes unavailable after the run is over, here's how they describe it: "The pre-dinner cocktail is a revered ritual in John's parents' elegant home, but when he returns to announce that he has written a play about them, their calm demeanor dissolves. As the martinis flow, so do the revelations and recriminations, both funny and poignant, in this heartfelt comedy about the ties that bind."

While we may not have had the official designation in my home as I was growing up — and we didn't have hired help in the kitchen to allow everybody to relax in the living room — a pre-dinner drink was part of the daily routine.* Some of our friends and neighbors may even have had the more formalized version represented in the play. In other words, the play brought me to a setting reminiscent of my earlier years, and it was interesting to see what the author did with his characters in that setting. But the author regards that setting as one that is fading away. While the parents cling to the lifestyle that included it and made it possible, the next generation are moving away from it — it is a way of life that is fading away.

Into that milieu, the author places his characters with a drama exploring the author/son's relationships with his parents and siblings. He feels somehow excluded from the rest of the family, rejected from infancy by his parents (going so far as to suspect he was not his father's son). He comes to understand himself and his family more clearly by the end of the play. In a way, it's almost a play within a play. The play itself is semi-autobiographical, and the play which the protagonist has written is also semi-autobiographical and titled "The Cocktail Hour."

I enjoyed it a lot — so much so that I'm actually thinking of trying to get in to see it again.

* At one point I came up with a parody of the opening lines of Longfellow's "The Children's Hour."
Between the dark and the daylight
When the night is beginning to lower
There comes a pause in the day's occupation
That is known as the cocktail hour.

Catching up

On October 17 I went to a symphony concert, and the following evening I trekked in to Boston again, for a show called "Baritones Unbound." It's a brief look at the history of the baritone voice, especially after it was identified as such in the early 19th Century, and it was having its first run anywhere. It was basically a fun evening — pure entertainment. Apparently it hadn't been booked anywhere else as of when I saw it, but the Three Baritones are hoping to be signed elsewhere. So keep your eyes on the entertainment listings; if you notice it, I think you'll like it.

Over the weekend, I came down with a cold. On Monday morning, I had almost no voice. But there was gradual improvement. I was able to take a visiting cousin to dinner at Scollay Square before I went to symphony on the 24th. She didn't join me for the concert, but the "absolutely gorgeous young man" I wrote about in my previous post was at Symphony Hall that evening — with another guy who wasn't nearly so gorgeous. We happened to meet in the corridor after the concert was ended. It was his companion's first time in Symphony Hall and his first time hearing Mahler's "Lied von der Erde" live. They were both enthusiastic. I wasn't, but I refrained from negative comments. Having heard his name for the third time, I actually remembered it long enough to look him up on social media. It turns out his paternal grandmother was Japanese. (I hadn't noticed anything semi-oriental-looking about his father in pictures — dad's also on social media.) He was actually in Japan a few years ago on some study-abroad program when grandma died, and he described going to the funeral. In case he shows up again, I think I'll call him G.

The following evening, I went to Scollay Square again, before another HMA concert. I had the same waitress as the previous evening, and she recognized me. She was good, but I was sorry not to see Wendy or Blake, the waitress and waiter I had liked last spring, on either visit. With my cold still lingering, I decided to leave before the second half of the concert.

This week, the cold has continued to fade away. Wednesday was another evening at the theater, for "The Power of Duff," about a TV newscaster in Rochester who begins to pray at the end of the news programs after his father dies. Some interesting things happen, but mostly the play is about his attempts to connect with people — especially his estranged wife and alienated 15 year old son — after a lifetime of being self-absorbed. There is some value to the story, and the play has its good moments, but the characters and the action often seem contrived. It was nice to hear some of the Red Sox final game of the World Series in my car on my way home and to see the last inning on my TV after I got home.

Last night was another symphony evening. I decided to escape Hallowe'en trick-or-treaters by having dinner in Boston before the concert. There is a local chain called Petit Robert. They describe themselves as French-style bistros. The menu varies slightly from location to location, but both the ones I've visited offer some things that are commonplace in American restaurants and some things you don't see regularly on this side of the Atlantic. Before "Baritones Unbound" I went to the Petit Robert Central and had oysters and coquilles St. Jacques. The latter is not available everywhere in America, and it was quite enjoyable. The waiter was easy to look at and properly attentive. This week I went to the Petit Robert Columbus Ave. and enjoyed a tasty foie gras appetizer and a very good tripe entree (neither of which was on the PRCentral menu, although Central had a different style of foie gras). I really like being able to get these things that aren't on most American menus, especially the organ meats, and I'm looking forward to going to one or the other before future plays or concerts.

Looking forward, I'll be seeing "Waiting for Godot" for the first time next week, in a performance by an Irish company called the Gare St. Lazare Players. Symphony Thursday and the following two Thursdays. Harvard Musical Association on Friday the 8th. My parish has their Mass of Remembrance, especially for those who have died in the past year, on Saturday at 4:00, followed by Italian Night at 5:00. Then there is an end-of-season Race Committee party at 6:00.

My Concert and Theater Plans for the 2013-2014 Season

I've been meaning to give a picture post showing some of the things I brought back from Japan last June. Sometime I should also get back to giving excerpts from the "Theology of the Body." But with the sailboat racing season over and the concert and theater season beginning, in my vanity I like to think you might find my plans for trekking in to Boston to attend a performance mildly interesting. So here it is, arranged by presenting organization.

Boston Symphony Orchestra   http://www.bso.org/

October 3,10,17,24, 31

November 7,14,21

January 9, 16*,23, 30

February 6, 20

March 6, 13, 18*, 20

April 3, 10, 24

* — Concerts which are not part of my subscription, but which I want to hear and will probably buy a ticket for.

 Arts Emerson   https://artsemerson.org/Online/default.asp

September 28   "Columbinus"

October 18   "Baritones Unbound"

November 6   "Waiting for Godot"

January 17   "We Are Proud to Present a Presentation about the Herero of Namibia, Formerly Known as South-West Africa, from the German Sudwestafrika, between the Years 1884-1915"

February 13   "Red-Eye to Havre de Grace"

March 14   "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

April 11   "Lebensraum (Habitat)"

Harvard Musical Association   (private)

October 11,25

November 8

December 6

January 10, 24

February 7, 21

March 7, 27

April 4, 18*, 25

* — Evening on which there will be a concert, but it's Good Friday, and I'll be in church, not there.

Huntington Theatre (sic) Company   http://www.huntingtontheatre.org/

October 23   "The Power of Duff"

December 5   "The Cocktail Hour"

March 26   "The Seagull"

April 23   "Becoming Cuba"(?)

May 29   "Smart People"*

* — I haven't purchased tickets for any of these yet, but they look worthwhile. I have "Flexpass" tickets available for plays and dates of my choosing. The dates selected are tentative.

I've included the url's for the public organizations so you can get more info about these performances, not just to satisfy your curiosity, but also so you can invite yourself to join me at one or another that might interest you. So if you live nearby or might be visiting Boston during the next seven months or so, let me know if something strikes your fancy.

Of course, my plans are subject to change, and I could well add a few things with other organizations (such as some operas), but that's how it looks at the moment.

Recent Doings

New Doctor: Getting Acquainted & Physical Exam.
My "primary care physician" of the past 20 or so years retired last fall. He had been in partnership with another doctor, whom I decided to try before searching for anyone else. My first appointment with the new doc was on April 15. The nurse took my blood pressure etc. and then told me take of all my clothes and put on a johnny and left the examining room. Eventually the doctor came in, asked some questions and began the physical exam. He had me lower the johnny to my waist while he listened with the stethoscope, then to my groin to check for hernias, then to my thighs while he checked for testicular cancer. I was surprised at how light his touch was; I'd have thought that more pressure would have been needed to detect anything. He brought the johnny back to cover my genitals. Then there was some discussion during which I put my arms back into the sleeves and brought it back to my shoulders. Finally, there was the check of my prostate, which he did by having me lie on my side on the examining table. I somehow didn't feel it as much as when it's done with feet on the floor and bending over the table.

We talked about colonoscopies, Vitamin D supplements, and pneumonia vaccine. He was pretty clear that I needed the Vitamin D, and gave good reasons for the others. What I really liked was that he didn't  order me to do things. The way he put things recognized that I'm the one in charge of my health care decisions. So I'm quite satisfied with him.

I had been procrastinating on the pneumonia vaccine and decided to have the shot while I was there. The nurse administered it after he was through and I had put my clothes back on. My upper arm was sore until Friday.

I noticed that he had a faint Irish accent. Turns out he's from Dublin, but has been here so long that it's very faint except when he's with other Irish people or has had a few beers.


Play at Arts Emerson: Trojan Women.
On Wednesday, April 17, I went to Boston to see an adaptation of the play by Euripides. There's a pretty good summary in the Globe's review. I liked it better than "Neva," which I had seen a couple of weeks earlier. This play not only evoked some of the horror of war, but also showed the complexity of the chain of causation: was the fall of Troy the fault of Priam and Hecuba for allowing Helen to remain, rather than giving her back to Menelaus; Helen, for leaving Menelaus and going to Troy with Paris; Paris for seducing Helen; Aphrodite, for promising Helen to Paris if he declared her the most beautiful; Zeus for selecting Paris to judge among the goddesses; Priam and Hecuba for letting Paris live after it had been prophesied that he would bring about the destruction of Troy.

On the way back to the subway, I encountered a couple who wanted directions back to their hotel. With the help of a nearby map I was able to furnish the directions they needed.

Although it was the day after the Marathon bombing, things seemed normal on the subway and in the Theater District.


Symphony Concert.
Thursday evening, I attended the Boston Symphony's concert. Apart from not stopping at the Copley station the subways ran normally. At Symphony Hall, all bags were examined, but then the eveninig went as normal. (The following night's performance was cancelled because of the manhunt and the 'shelter in place' advisory.)

I posted about the concert on my music blog.

It seems to me that the actions of all of us who went to the theater or the symphony or were otherwise out and about on Wednesday and Thursday illustrate what President Obama said on Thursday at the service at Holy Cross Cathedral: "We don't cower in fear. We carry on."


A Movie and Dinner.
On Friday evening I went with a priest who had formerly been in my parish to see the movie "Quartet." It was quite enjoyable. Afterwards we went to The Black Cow restaurant for dinner. I had been there a couple of times before, but it had been renovated in the meantime. The interior had been opened up, and it seemed significantly noisier, with more patrons, largely of a younger age. No doubt it's a business success, but it was a personal disappointment to have lost the ambience of former times. Well, I still have good memories of dining there before the renovations.

Seth the Waiter.
On Tuesday evening this week there was a concert and social evening at the Harvard Musical Association. As usual on such evenings, I went to the Scollay Square restaurant, and was pleasantly surprised to see Seth there. He was equally surprised to see me, since the HMA events are almost all on Fridays: this was the first Tuesday that I can recall. He had been working Mondays and Saturdays, but now, as he told me, he's working Tuesdays as well.  We greeted each other warmly. Then he had to go back to work. Unfortunately, I was seated at a table which wasn't in his section.

Looking Ahead.
This evening (Thursday the 25th) I'll go to another BSO concert, and Friday to another evening at the HMA. I don't expect to see Seth, since he didn't say he works regularly on Fridays. Next week, the HMA has its last social evening on Wednesday, and my final BSO concert of the season is on Thursday, May 2.

Meanwhile, the yacht club reopens for the summer this Saturday. The racing season begins in earnest about a month later. The Race Committee schedule hasn't been issued yet, but I expect to be assigned to help run the races on seven or eight Saturdays from June through September. Then the concert and theater seasons will resume.

Last Week Was Busy

It's been a long time since I posted to this blog. In my defense, I did post to my music blog and to In Memory of Razz on his anniversary. There are also extra services I go to on the days leading up to Easter. Then last week turned out to be fairly busy too.

Monday was routine, but on Tuesday I went to a Boston Symphony concert. I had a ticket for Holy Thursday, but I always go to the Mass that evening, so I exchanged the ticket for one for the Tuesday concert. The program actually included a couple of things I had heard back on February 28, with a different piece in the middle. Since neither of the repeats were things I was very familiar with (one was completely new to me), I was glad to be able to hear them again and get a bit more familiar with them. Hearing something for the first time can be an amazing experience, but hearing it again can deepen your understanding — you notice things you didn't notice the first time; you get more of a feel for how it works overall.

The next two evenings also involved trips into Boston — to see plays. On Wednesday it was "Neva" at Arts Emerson. It's a translation of a play by Chile's greatest living playwright (according to the playbill), Guillermo Calderón. He was also the director. A preview in the Boston Globe a couple of days before it opened in Boston describes it like this:

As the audience settles in, a woman dressed in mournful black paces slowly along the wall at the back of the stage. She is, we will discover, the great Russian actress Olga Knipper, widow of Anton Chekhov. It is six months after his death, and she is in a St. Petersburg rehearsal room, waiting for the rest of the company.

The play is Guillermo Calderón’s “Neva,” and it is set on Bloody Sunday, 1905, the day scores of peacefully protesting workers were massacred by government forces on their way to the city’s Winter Palace, where they’d sought to deliver a message to the czar. Only two of Olga’s colleagues arrive at rehearsal that afternoon: an actor, Aleko, and an actress, Masha. In the darkened room, the three of them attend to their craft, insulated from the violence unfolding in the streets.

I was looking forward to it, to the insights it would give. There were some startling moments, when the characters played out little dramas which seemed "real" only to disclose to one another that they had been acting, but overall I was disappointed. It seemed to be very self-absorbed on the author's part. He's reflecting, as a man of the theater, on the place of theater in the troubles of the real world; but ultimately the reflection seems pointless. The post-opening review, which is headlined "'Neva' an overwrought, overwritten drama," pretty well tells how I felt about it.

Thursday's play was the classic "A Raisin in the Sun," about a post-WWII black family in Southside Chicago hoping to improve their condition. I was much happier with that one. Once more, the Globe's review captures much of how I feel about it. The picture with the review shows the "silent figure" whom the reviewer mentions. He's the one in the background. Since there's no risk now of spoiling anything (the production has closed), I'll say it's Big Walter, the recently deceased husband and father of the main characters. He never speaks, and no one sees him, but putting him on stage makes his son's speech about the family's heritage and pride that much more meaningful.

Then on Friday, instead of going to the concert and social evening at the Harvard Musical Association, I began a spiritual retreat which ran through Sunday morning. It was for men, and it was conducted by a Xaverian brother. Unlike the previous retreats I went on — eight days, with an individual director for each retreatant and a focus on the individual — this one consisted of five hour-long talks to the group by the director. His topic was the Virgin Mary, and he began by describing what life would have been like for her as an ordinary woman from a very small town in 1st Century Israel. Then he went through various events in the scriptures — annunciation, birth of Jesus, Jesus lost in the Temple, miracle of wine at the wedding in Cana, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus — giving insight into how it would have been for her and suggesting how she dealt with things could serve as a model for people today. One particularly striking part was when he analyzed the "Magnificat"(Luke 1:46-55)  as a revolutionary song — particularly verses 51-53:

He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit.

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.

So, it wasn't nearly so introspective as my two earlier retreats, but it did give some food for thought.

Now I'm getting caught up. This week won't have so much evening activity, just the HMA on Friday (unless I do something spur-of-the-moment), so I should have time for another installment on the Theology of the Body.

Pot Roast; "Our Town"/Finding Someone

Pot Roast.  I cooked a pot roast on Tuesday. I had 3 1/4 pounds of chuck (shoulder meat) which I figured would give five servings. I sprinkled it with pepper, nutmeg, and garlic powder. Then I browned it in olive oil on the stove top. Toward the end, I added some coarsely chopped onions which I had sprinkled with dried oregano and parsley. Then I sprinkled it all with dried thyme and a little marjoram, savory, and dill, poured enough boiling water over it to come about halfway up the roast, covered it, and set it in a 325°F oven. After a couple of hours, I turned it over and added 14 oz. of sliced carrots — peeled, sliced crosswise and lengthwise, and sprinkled with thyme. At that point I also poured a bit of Japanese soy sauce (maybe 2 tsp.) and sprinkled a bit of sea salt (maybe 1/4 tsp.) into the liquid. After another hour or so, I added four potatoes, peeled and cut into fifths (maybe 1 1/2 lb. after peeling) and let it cook for another 45 minutes or so.

Here's a picture of the roast and two servings of the veggies.

The meat was cooked to the point that it tended to shred when I tried to cut it.

Here's a picture of the herbs and spices. (not shown: soy sauce and sea salt).

BTW — I had bought the meat last week. It had a last sale date of January 17. I had thought I'd cook it on the 19th, but my brother wasn't here that evening. Then on Sunday he took me to dinner for a birthday (eve) celebration; and on the birthday itself some friends invited me to their place for dinner. So I didn't get around to cooking it until the 22nd. It was still perfectly good.

Bonus pic: snow on the spirea outside my kitchen window one morning in late December.

Click on photos to enlarge.

"Our Town"/Finding Someone.  Last week I went to a performance of the play "Our Town," by Thornton Wilder, about life in a small town in pre-WWI New Hampshire. The town has about 2,400 inhabitants, as I recall, and the central focus is on George Gibb and Emily Webb, who are high school classmates and next door neighbors in the first act and marry immediately after graduation in the second. In the third act Emily has died in childbirth and joins other decedents in the town cemetery.

It's a very good play, IMO, with much to think about. I saw it when I was in high school in a production by our drama department, and I had remembered some of it. So it seemed familiar, even when I didn't remember specific bits.

Anyway one point I've been thinking about is that the Stage Manager indicates that most people get married and go through life as a couple. Added to that is the fact that most people stay in Grover's Corners after they finish high school. George and Emily have known each other just about all their lives. Perhaps it's not inevitable that they get married, but it's not surprising by any means. More broadly, the play implies that almost all the young people in the town find someone to marry from within their circle of acquaintances. I'd guess that in a town that size, there would be no more than 100 people (of the opposite sex) within the normal age range for likely spouses. And that was enough for almost all of them to find someone to marry and go through life with.

Along the same line, I think of how things were when I was in high school. Most people were able to find someone to go steady with. It was a larger town than in the play, but I'm sure that if we all had stayed in town after high school, almost all of us could have found a spouse from among our contemporaries.

So that leads to my conclusion: "finding someone" does not depend on having a wide range of possibilities. If one is not excessively picky, "someone" can be found in a circle of acquaintances of any size. In fact, urbanization and social media may make it harder to find someone because it becomes easy to imagine that there is someone better out there, and to feel that it is not necessary to settle for someone who is basically compatible and good enough. Urbanization and social media also tend to impede finding someone by preventing us from focusing on a small number of people from whom we might choose; they draw us out of true community into a broad circle of acquaintances among whom we don't have a real opportunity to make connections.

Of course, I know that people continue to find each other, but I think it may not be as easy as it was in smaller communities (and perhaps the wider range of acquaintances also promotes divorce by presenting new possibilities after marriage has taken place).

A Playful Week, then Doing Myself a Mischief

A Playful Week

Three plays, to be more precise.

     "ART"  Last Sunday I went to a local theater company's production of "ART" The company's website says:

Winner of the 1998 Tony Award for best play, ARTrevolves around three friends who tangle over the merits of an all-white painting that one of them has purchased for a tidy sum. What begins as a polite discussion of personal taste rapidly devolves into all-out war as the guys relentlessly batter each other over their various foibles and failures.

I was a bit disappointed. I was expecting more about art and less about interpersonal relationships. Once it was established that one character dislikes modern art in general and the work in question, which the other has paid 200,000 francs for and thinks it's worth it because it's by a certain famous painter — the third character is a let's get along type who is there to let the others say what they think — what we mostly get is variations on "My best friend shouldn't buy something he knows I'll hate," and "My best friend shouldn't express a negative opinion about something I paid 200,000 francs for."

The more I think about it, the more I think they're both way too self centered and demanding. I think one problem may be that the playwright, Yasmina Reza, is a woman and she is projecting feminine emotions and expectations on male characters. I attended a play of hers titled "God of Carnage," in which two sets of parents meet to discuss a playground fight between their sons. It starts very politely but rapidly descends into verbal combat, with alliances being formed and broken as the argument continues. It was better, IMO.


     "Hamlet"  On Wednesday I attended the Globe Theatre touring company's "Hamlet." It was pretty good. They had eight actors for all the roles, and all but Hamlet took multiple roles (with some quick additions or subtractions to the costumes to distinguish the characters). Those who played Hamlet and his contemporaries were all young enough to be credible as twentyish. They didn't have a lot of invented stage business, such as one often sees in movies of Shakespeare plays. They mostly stood and spoke to each other, and in the soliloquies faced the audience as they spoke. The set was simple. Simulating the experience of open-air performances at the Globe in Shakespeare's day, they kept the house lights on during the performance, which began and ended with music played mostly by the actors.

Here's the review from the Boston Globe. I was very satisfied with it. A couple of things which I found noteworthy were that when Hamlet kills Polonius, he's genuinely horrified at what he has done — he thought he was killing Claudius — and when Ophelia goes mad, it is clear enough from the text, that it was her father's death, rather than Hamlet's treatment of her, that pushed her over the edge. As they presented it, Hamlet did not seems so indecisive as some analysts of the play consider him. But there was some real food for thought. How can we consider a killer like Hamlet to be the good man that Horatio and Fortinbras think he is?


     "Good People"  I went with a friend to the Thursday performance of "Good People" at the Huntington Theatre Company. The website says, In South Boston, this month’s paycheck covers last month’s bills, bingo is a night on the town, and sharp-tongued single-mom Margie Walsh has just been let go from yet another job.  Scrambling to make ends meet, she looks up an old flame, hoping he’ll help her make a fresh start in this humor-filled drama from Pulitzer Prize winner David Lindsay-Abaire about how twists of fate determine our path.
I found it entertaining — a lot of really funny lines and situations — and thought-provoking — how do we mess situations up by saying too much or too little or going in with an unhelpful attitude. To give more of an idea what it's about here is one review from the Globe. This article will explain it a bit more. Finally, a few words from the playwright.

For those of you who are familiar with Boston, you might find it interesting that for dinner before "Good People" we went to Jacob Wirth's, a Boston institution since 1868, one I had long thought I should get to "sometime," but never got around to. I really liked it. As the history on the website tells, it has retained its 19th century ambience, along with some of its menu. I think I'll probably go there fairly regularly for pre-theater dinners when I decide not to have my own cuisine at home afterwards.


Doing Myself a Mischief

     The relief valve on my furnace has been malfunctioning. Whenever the heater is sending hot water through the system, some comes out through the valve and empties into a bucket. This was not much of a problem over the summer, but with the colder weather, the bucket needs to be emptied several times a day, or it overflows onto the cellar floor.

And so it was that when I woke up at about 5:30 this morning (Saturday) I put on a bathrobe and went to the cellar, where I began to empty the bucket. While I was in the midst of that, I began to have a strong urge to urinate. As I tell this, it occurs to me that I could have urinated into the bucket, but unfortunately that did not even cross my mind at the time. Instead, I decided to hold the flood back by pinching my penis near the base until I could reach the set tub 20 feet or so away. As I did so, I felt a sort of stabbing sensation, and, sure enough, the urine was followed by blood.

The blood continued to ooze, although the flow seemed to be slowing. Eventually, I decided to put a band aid across the tip of the penis and go back to bed. An hour and a half later, when I got up for the day, it was no longer bleeding, but urination was again followed by blood, although less than the first time. Around noon there was a small amount of blood, but definitely less than before. So I expect that it will be completely healed before long (if it isn't already). But it was a real scare when I saw the blood flowing for the first time — I was thinking I might need to go to the hospital emergency room if the bleeding didn't stop — and it was a powerful lesson about the dangers of pinching too tightly.

Update: At 11:30 last evening, just before I went to bed, there was no trace of blood.

A Night at the Theater & Miscellany

A Night at the Theater.
A week ago I went into Boston to attend the world premiere performance of Paris Commune by The Civilians at Arts Emerson.

Guy on the Subway.  On my way into the city, I noticed a guy on the platform with a shirt that was open down the side from the armpit to the bottom seam. When we got on  the train, he was seated opposite some friends at the far end of the car. After a few minutes, I noticed that the way the shirt was hanging, his small left nipple was exposed, along with an expanse of hairless chest above and below. I tried to avoid staring, but it was definitely an attractive sight.

The Play.  Arts Emerson had e-mailed some information about the Commune and about the play, so I arrived with some basic knowledge of what it was all about. But the show certainly added a lot. It was framed with references to a free concert that took place in the Tuileries Palace in May, 1871, on what happened to be the last night before the government troops began to retake the city. The fighting lasted a week, during which thousands of people were killed (including the Archbishop of Paris and several dozen priests killed by the Communards), and the Palace was one of many buildings that were burned down.

A couple of members of the governing council of the Commune were popular songwriters, and some of their songs were included. One of them wrote the words to "The Internationale," and it was included when the sow returned to the concert at the end — although an actor pointed out that it was not actually sung on that occasion. It was written some weeks later, and the tune was written later still.

All in all, it was an interesting evening — informative and thought-provoking. I wonder if the writers and actors were aware of the ironies at some points in the script as they pointed to the Russian, Chinese, and Cuban revolutions as successors to the Commune and also to the Tiananmen Square uprising as another successor, or when they spoke of East Germany's issuing a commemorative postage stamp on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the Commune.


Miscellany.

Europe Does not Believe in Washcloths.  While I was traveling in Germany and France a couple of months ago, all three of the hotels I stayed in provided two bath towels, two hand towels, and a bath mat, but no washcloth. Apparently the Europeans just use their hands to wash themselves in the shower. It's tolerable, but a washcloth makes it easier to reach all areas of ones back, does a better job of scrubbing, and produces better suds. Here's an item where the Europeans are definitely lagging behind us Americans (or at least the hoteliers are).

More Cooking.  Last night I added a small roma tomato to my baked stuffed haddock (using my normal summer squash and mushrooms as well). Of course, I sprinkled dried basil on the tomato. The result was good, but not so much better than usual that I'd always want tomato as part of it.

BTW, one reason I like using bread crumbs is that the fish exudes some liquid as it cooks, and the crumbs absorb at least some of it. I've even begun to sprinkle some on salmon when I steam it, for the same reason — why let the salmon liquid drain into the water?

Change of Seasons.  Although last night was warm enough for me to enjoy some nude time on the back porch at about 2:00 a.m., I'm afraid summer is gone, and warm days and evenings are a bonus, rather than an expectation, until next year. Some trees are showing patches of red, orange, and yellow. Temperatures are generally 10°F cooler than at the beginning of the month. And the sailboat racing season is over, and the theater/concert season has begun (see above; also tonight I'll got to my first symphony concert of this season).

Although autumn has its own beauty, I prefer summer. I find the greens of summer even more beautiful than the colors of fall. I find the warmer weather more pleasant that the cool (and better for being naked). I like the color of light light as modified by the green trees, especially as the sun shines through them and then we have the late twilight and nightfall after the long days. And the cool days and bright colors of fall are the prelude to the bare trees, short days, and freezing temperatures of winter.

Possible Trip.  I've never been to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and I understand it's worth seeing. My calendar is still pretty open from October 23 through 26, and, surprisingly (to me) my cousin is still there. So if I decide I can afford it after my earlier trip and surgery, I might pop up for a look-see. It will probably be chilly, and some seasonal attractions may be closed, but at least I'll get to see the city. OTOH, if I find that all the historic sites are closed, I'll probably hold off until next summer.

Health.  Since I linked my earlier post titled "Health," maybe I should update. The aftermath of the operation has gone very well. My new crown seems to be fine. And my weight seems to have stabilized, so there's apparently nothing to worry about.

The Good, the Bad, and the Puzzling

The Good.


I attended two shows last week.

On Wednesday it was "Private Lives" by Noël Coward. It's a 1930's comedy of manners in which a divorced couple, who have each remarried, meet on their second honeymoons. It was well performed, I thought, and quite entertaining. It's probably best not to think too seriously about how this would all be in real life and what it would mean for the characters — just relax and enjoy the ride. James Waterston (Sam W.'s son) had the male lead and played the piano very well in the second act.

Then on Thursday I attended one of what is billed as the final performances anywhere of Hershey Felder's one man show "George Gershwin Alone." It was a fascinating look at the musical life of the composer. To me, the most poignant bit was when he told of an incident a couple of weeks before Gershwin's death. He was working in Hollywood had gone late at night to a dark soundstage and was playing a piano when heard a noise. It was a fifteen year old janitor, to whom the name Gershwin meant nothing — didn't even know what a composer is — but got permission to take a picture of him. After the show finished, Felder came back out for a brief singalong of things requested by the audience. After it was all over it occurred to me that it would have been fun to call out a request for "God Bless America" since both Gershwin's mother and Sam Goldwyn had suggested that he should write music that was more like Irving Berlin's. But Felder and the audience might have thought it was a mistake, rather than a joke.



The Bad.

For St. Boniface's Day I decided to celebrate with a veal chop for dinner. I would brown the chop and some slices of leek in a little oil, then add water and simmer it for about twenty minutes. Meanwhile I'd make a nice white sauce (butter, flour, milk) with shiitake mushrooms. I added chervil and mild paprika, then wavered for a minute between "Beau Monde Seasoning" (an onion and celery flavored salt) and plain salt, finally deciding on the latter, and as I went to sprinkle some in, the top fell off the shaker and a tablespoon or more of salt fell into the sauce. I removed what I could, but it was still terribly salty and ruined the meal. It later occurred to me that I should have rinsed the mushrooms and started over.

Then on Friday I decided to try something I'd been thinking about from time to time: tuna salad with tomato paste. I put a bit of mayonnaise on slices of bread and on a leaf of swiss chard. I took half a can of tuna, a tablespoon of tomato paste, and a tablespoon of mayo and mixed them well with a fork and assembled the sandwich. The tomato paste was too much. The sandwich wasn't as bad as the sauce on the veal. In fact I may try it again, but with considerably less tomato past. In the right proportion, I think it could add an interesting bit of flavor.


The Puzzling.


As some of you may have noticed, Martin has been unable to reach me by e-mail recently. (See comments on that post.) I've sent e-mails to him with three possible addresses to use for me. I sent one to the address in his blogger profile (which is the one that shows when I get e-mail notification of his comments), and I sent one to the address he put in his recent comment on the previous post. He doesn't seem to have gotten either. If you're still reading I'd like request a favor from you:
please send an e-mail titled "Test" to me at the address given in my profile, another to me at naturgesetz@gmail.com, one to Martin at the address from his profile, and finally one to martin-klaus.wisser@web.de, and when you've done so, please let us know by posting a comment here. That way, maybe we can begin to figure out where the problem is. Thanks.