Speak your mind ... but ...

Resident Kid has a mug that I've borrowed on occasion, most times resulting in great complaints and chastisement, but the thing that I love about this mug is that it is GIANT and it has a picture of a bucking horse (and yes, with a view of the back side) that says, "Speak your mind ... but ride a fast horse."

I realize now what my problem has been in my life.  Being a marginally fast runner, I tend to speak my mind and endure the wrath or enjoy the giggles of the audience.  A few encounters with audiences of the former ilk have impressed upon me there are times when it can pay to not speak my mind, mostly on the topics of politics or religion.  While this tactic leaves a broad range of other worldly topics that are ripe for the picking, it is sometimes an indictment of public discourse practices in our society.

Vitriol that mutes writers is disturbing and violates my sense of what should make up our right to freedom of speech but this and other events made me curious enough about the varying dynamics behind public discourse to try an experiment during and just after the recent election period.

I decided upon certain situations where I would remain deliberately silent about my opinions on who the best candidates for the jobs at stake were and came up with some surprising, at least to me, outcomes.  What I thought was most interesting were the assumptions that people would make that, if I didn't disagree, I must agree.  My assumption going into this process was that others would assume that I was silent because I was following the maxim of, "If you can't find something nice to say, don't say anything at all," that corollary of, "Silence is golden."

I suppose I should be heartened by this in that others were fully expecting that they would be engaged in a lively debate of diverging opinions if the opportunity arose.  And in fact, I found it difficult, if not impossible, to remain silent if the lively debate was couched in questions that sought to identify the realms of possibility amongst the options.

My silence was not at all difficult to maintain when I was confronted by loud statements of opinion that were presented as fact that could not possibly be impugned.  What surprised me about my own reaction in these cases was that it was not the tendency towards being loud and overbearing that turned me away.  In essence, my response of silence meant that I, the listener, gave up on the speaker as a lost cause.

Missing the Frontier

I just had an opportunity to squeeze in some hang time with a friend during a busy life and I'm pondering the loss of the time to write.  Not really pondering, severely missing it.  I liked having the time to be captivated by a thought and follow its meanderings through my brain.  So perhaps, as the new year approaches, it is time to seek a way to formalize my meanderings and make that time for myself again.  I've been out of touch, out of sight and out of shouting range.  Use your best Arnie voice, "I'll be back."

Sound Fourth, Bend Style 2011

After a one year hiatus while the Bend (Oregon) High School auditorium was being renovated, the Sound Fourth concert is back.  For you Bendites, the time is 3:00 on July 4th (gives you plenty of time to enjoy the festivities downtown) at Bend High School auditorium.  The pre-concert show is provided by the Bend High School band.  The concert features the festival chorus directed by Dr. Clyde Thompson and the Cascade Horizon Band. 

Shoppin' with the Easter Bunny

Resident Kid is becoming a little old for the traditional Easter basket and paraphernalia, but I indulged myself in a little frivolous shopping to celebrate the day this year.  Apparently, in my off-hand way, I hit on a fun thing for Kid.  The prize had been shown off for a few days and jealously guarded from the Mimsical creature, when one day, while lolling on the bed, Resident Kid asked where I had done my Easter shopping. 

Outraged, I sputtered that I did not do Easter shopping, that was the Easter Bunny's job.  Slight pause, then Resident Kid asked, "OK, so, where does the Easter Bunny shop?"

World Water Day 2011

I post this with a bit of wistfulness, being a water professional in a former life.   I hope that I haven't left that part of me behind, and certainly the brain is still engaged, it's just my livelihood doesn't hinge on my participation in these issues anymore.  It's a sad commentary on the priorities in this world today.

Celebrate World Water Day, March 22, 2011

Water is a crucial resource for humans and life on Earth. To celebrate its life-sustaining qualities, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly designated March 22 as World Water Day to focus attention on the importance of freshwater and advocate for the sustainable management of freshwater resources. 

 

Each year, World Water Day highlights a specific aspect of freshwater. This year’s theme, Water for Cities: Responding to the Urban Challenge, spotlights and encourages governments, organizations, communities, and individuals to actively engage in addressing urban water management.

According to the UN, one in two people on the planet now live in cities. As the world’s cities become more crowded, the need for water increases. Globally, however, government investment in water infrastructure has not kept up with urbanization. Piping water to growing populations can be complex and expensive. Governments often do not have the resources to meet the demand. And the populations that need the most help often are the poorest. Compound that with a lack of sanitation, and public health threats become worldwide headlines.

To meet this challenge, the UN is encouraging everyone to participate in World Water Day events. Campaign materials, brochures, and other information are available at www.unwater.org/worldwaterday/index.html.

On being busy

Some folks have told me that they don't understand how I can do all that I do.  I am busy, and I would be the first to admit that, especially at this particular point in time, I am too busy.  The busy-ness (perhaps this should be confused with business) seems to be cyclical in terms of coming to a head at about three or four times in the year.  Most of it coincides with the end of term at the local college, where I am NOT a teacher, and the other undertakings in my or my family members' lives. 

I think there are activities that will have to go come the end of this year.  I'll keep my favorites and jettison some dabblings and hope to simplify my life's schedule to a degree that approximates manageable.  But I think that having times like these, where I am overextended, makes me really examine what's important. Often, when I drift along comfortably, I don't question whether what I am doing is really important or worth doing.  There is also something to be said for that period of time where you are completely and utterly pressed for time that makes you value the moments of stillness.


Tonight I am going to a concert by Great Big Sea.  Yes, it's Sunday night and it has been a hell of a week replete with stressful work, choir concerts, dance performances, classes and lessons, but this concert tonight, while it will be loud and exhausting, is goof off time.  I don't have to perform, I don't have to produce, I get to go and enjoy.  So think about this the next time you are feeling stressed and overtaxed - perhaps it is time to rant and roar!

All that jazz

I have long been a fan of jazz, with my active participation in the genre waxing and waning over the years with a recent long dry spell ending with a gift of a ticket from a friend for a concert at the local college.  The music at the concert, particularly the small combo pieces, evoked memories of former lives where I spent evenings in smoky bars in Rochester, NY listening to great jazz from musicians inspired by Miles Davis or Chick Corea.  No vocalists stick in my mind from that time, all instrumentalists.   The Manhattan Transfer had made their mark earlier than this time and Harry Connick, Jr. had yet to hit it really big.  Or perhaps if I did hear any vocal music during this time I blocked it out because the way smooth jazz was becoming white bread left me totally cold. 

What resonated with me vocally left me feeling very displaced in terms of the times I was living in because I listened to the likes of Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald.  Nobody was singing like that, at least not when I had the opportunity to listen.

I don't know where this came from, this affinity with jazz.  I remember my siblings (all older) being into rock, folk and the inevitable classical in piano and violin lessons.  There was a hefty dose of Broadway and movie musicals, too, I have a vivid memory of belting out songs like, "There is nothing like a dame," as a six or seven year old.

It was a long time later, when I put on some music, it might even have been a Sarah Vaughan album, when my dad, a Julliard-trained organist, expressed surprise at my knowing "those old songs."

Anyway, I'm grateful for the opportunity to re-explore some old territory and get to know some of the newer artists at work today.  Ella Fitzgerald is still unbeatable, and what a kick to listen to, especially on those recordings where she forgot the words and started making stuff up.  She also, which is a game in our household, inserted words or motifs from other songs into whatever she was singing. 

That's not allowed for a "legit" singer and it certainly wouldn't make a "best of" album these days.  You've got to sing what's writ.  With classical music, the most improv you might get to do is in ornamentation or coloratura, but even then I've heard about and witnessed directors who transcribed a singer's noodling in the expectation of hearing it sung the same way at the next rehearsal or performance.  Even worse is asking a singer to sight read and then perform a scat as written (yes, that really happened).  That particular experience left me speechless and just a little bit irked.  It makes me wonder if the quest for the perfect presentation can obscure the adventure that is musical performance.

Right on, Ella.