I recently discovered that I always put my left leg into my pants first, and find it nearly impossible to put my right leg in first. I nearly fell over trying this morning. This is the kind of thing that one only has the time to discover in retirement.
The Republicans are taking their donors to lesbian bondage/strip clubs, the president of Afghanistan is threatening to join the Taliban, Tiger Woods is allowing Nike to use his dead father’s voice in an ad in a counter-productive attempt to rehabilitate his public image, John McCain has declared he is not, in fact, a maverick after all, people are threatening to kill their Congressmen, Butler’s last second shot did not go in…and yet, I have nothing to say right now. I think I’m paralyzed with sensory overload.
Here’s another example. I just read a terrific new book, “The Age of the Unthinkable” by Josh Ramo, only to discover that Glenn Beck thinks it’s the most important book of the year. Now what am I supposed to think?
Mostly I’m now in training for a return to Clarksdale, Mississippi and the Juke Joint Blues Festival, which starts April 16th. It’s like training for anything else; it this case that means I need to be drinking more liquor in the coming days, because if I go straight from my rather ascetic Florida lifestyle to drinking corn likker, in quantity, from old Pepsi bottles, it could get ugly early. McRik and Buzzard will be there too.
I left last year’s festival hat (purchased from the Super Soul Shop in Clarksdale) in New York, but have purchased something new for this year’s event from Gus’ Clothing & Collectables here in DeLand. I hope to have pictures soon.
Of course I’ve been listening to a lot of blues. “Champaign and Reefer,“ by the Mannish Boys, is my new party anthem. “Treat Me Right” by Peter Karp and Sue Foley is another good one. Ruth Greenwood singing “Happy on Top” will make your blood boil. I’m lovin’ Nick Moss, Watermelon Slim, and the new Joe Lois Walker CD, “Between a Rock and the Blues.”
Can somebody tell me why the blues make me feel so good?
Thanks to the Schu for introducing me to P.D. James, a middle aged Englishwoman you might call the thinking man’s mystery writer. I recommend “Devices and Desires.” Here’s a quote I can’t get out of my head: “We need, all of us, to be in control of our lives, and we shrink them until they are small and mean enough so that we can feel in control.” Not something you’d expect from this genre.
Thanks also to Birdman who lent me “My Losing Season” by Pat Conroy. I’ve loved his books and really enjoyed this one as well; it’s an account of his senior year basketball season at the Citadel, but that’s just the framework for a deeper exploration of his coming of age.
It’s funny how generations flow one to another. Conroy is only four years older than me, and while I recognize the world he describes it made me realize (not for the first time) that someone my age probably has much more in common with someone tem years younger more than he does with someone three or four years older. (Except in the case of certain socially precocious older readers of this blog – of course.)
I would really like to offer you something more relevant today, but not nearly as much as I would like to finish this quickly and go to the beach.
Adios.
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14 comments:
Pat Conroy is interesting to read but I come to him with a bias. We played on the same CYO basketball team growing up. He was a year ahead of me in middle school in Alexandria.
He writes in "My Losing Season" about playing basketball with older black guys when were kids. We all did back then.
I remember his Mom (she had a strong southern accent) and sibs. Really don't remember his Dad, the Great Santini.
He achieved a bit more than the rest of us. People have asked if I thought he'd be a great writer. All I can say is that in 7th and 8th grade, he hoped to be Bob Cousey not Ernest Hemingway.
LOVE P.D. James. Read all of Conroy including his basketball book. Have just bought Sue Miller's latest (might just be for chicks) and am expecting a call that Anna Quindlen's newest has arrived.
KG is correct in saying southern boys played basketball (and football) with older black kids back then. My brothers did. In fact on the first high school road trip (bus) (after integration) each of my brothers were assigned to sit with one of the new black kids because my parents were "Democrats".
Just heard the tea baggers want Michele Bachman to run for VP on the Sarah Palin ticket. What has happened to us??????
Sarah Palin AND Michelle Bachman?! The dream team(for the Democrats)!
Looks to me like you are going to have one great R & R from the stress of retirement! Blues and a beer sound good to me but at this rate, I'd probably pass out.
Pat Conroy has written some good books. The only one I've read though is Beach Music. It was good.
About your pants, you are still adjusting to your new life! lol That is a good excuse anyways.
Your retirement discoveries are enough to make anyone take off. lol
Enjoy the Blues Festival.
Interesting blues factoid: There were two great blues harmonica players named Sonny Boy Williamson -- the elder and the younger. The younger liked the elder so much he changed his name from Alek Miller to SBW II.
I heard Pat Conroy interviewed at least 3 times on NPR when he came out with My Losing Season. His father, whom he described as uber-difficult, attended his book signings, as he was the basis for The Great Santini, a bitter-sweet moment in Pat's life. That said, being a jock is a rite of passage for your average American male. Some miss it. No one has the same experience.
To digress back to outstanding quotes. I listened to a program on the Buddha on my local PBS station last night. The quote was something to the effect that meditation was akin to an archer holding the bow and arrow steady before release. Another statement along the same lines: the mind is like a monkey, very hard to hold still. I was impressed at the core of Buddhism, a personal struggle for perfection as opposed to earning bliss through dogma.
The blues are a state of emotional and intellectual understanding with an irreconcilable contradiction in the nature of humanity. I wonder what the Buddha would have thought about it.
Just re-read Beach Music which truly is a great and beautiful story. Regarding the blues...recently saw the amazing John Mayall who at 73 is fronting an ass kicking band that covers loads of blues classics plus plays some terrific originals. Yes, he's white and British but still unique. Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Paige all played with Mayall back in the day. Check out his tour schedule http://www.johnmayall.com/tour.html BTW, the brilliant John Hammond Jr. opened for him and if you close your eyes and listen he is Sonny Boy Williamson! I grew up on lily white Long Island, but moved to NYC and played B-Ball in Central Park just about every day for 5 years. They called me "spot", as in white spot. Once after I played especially well in one game making the last shot to win the game and hold onto the court, one of my teammates was heard to exclaim, referring to me, "That N*****r can play." It was the best compliment I have ever received.
I think South of Broad is Conroy's best book so far (although Prince of Tides is a close 2nd. It suffers from the image of Barbra Streisand in the movie). In My Losing Season he devotes a chapter to Camp Wahoo (a basketball camp near Charlottesville, VA) where he was a "counsellor". I went to Camp Wahoo the first year it was in operation in 1962. The coaches were Bones McKinney from Wake Forest, Press Maravich from LSU and about 4 others. Billy Packer was one of the "counsellors". One of the campers, I recall, was Press Maravich's son Pete. After getting schooled for a solid week I decided that baseball might be a better match for my abilities.
I believe Crown Royal is the preferred beverage for the Blues. With a PBR chaser if needed. Good luck Dennis. I'm sure your game will return quickly.
BB: "played B-Ball in Central Park" Where in Central Park?
I got the blues today. I heard Dick Cheney's daughter arguing the gravitas of a 2 term Vice President over that of a one term President. I could feel the big pieces coming up.
The blues is one of the greatest black/white, mutually beneficial collaborations of all times. The blues might well have died altogether, or been relegated to a regional folk music had it not been for all those British rockers in the '60s who gave it prominence, and gave Muddy Water, Howlin' Wolf, John Lee Hooker and quite a few others the fame and fortune they had never had before. Even today, it's mostly middle age white guys who pump money into the genre; they buy the concert tickets and CDs.
And finally, BB, no one with hands the size of yours could really play.
Mannish Boys is obviously a take-off on Muddy Water's song "Mannish Boy", one of my favorites. Listen to Albert Cummings "Blues Makes Me Feel So Good" for the answer to your question.
will do Woodrow.
How about Phil's shot on 13 today. Un-be-freakin-leevable!
Hankster, the courts were (and are) just north of the Great Lawn at 85th Street. There was always a five on five full court game played with intensity (no fouls were called unless it resulted in a compound fracture), and two, three on three half court games. It took me several months to "get a run" in the full court game, cause skinny, short white guys were not necessarily top draft picks. Note to DB, the game is played as much with the head as with the hands. I compensated :)
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