The friendly day shines forth

Here’s what’s been running through my head ever since the election was called for Biden/Harris: “Exsultate, jubilate”, the motet by Mozart. If you don’t know why, here’s a translation of the lyrics:

Rejoice, resound with joy,
o you blessed souls,
singing sweet songs,
In response to your singing
let the heavens sing forth with me.

The friendly day shines forth,
both clouds and storms have fled now;
for the righteous there has arisen
an unexpected calm.
Dark night reigned everywhere [before];
arise, happy at last,
you who feared till now,
and joyful for this lucky dawn,
give garlands and lilies with full right hand.

You, o crown of virgins,
grant us peace,
Console our feelings,
from which our hearts sigh

Alleluja, alleluja

Mozart wrote the piece for a castrato, but these days it’s mostly sung by women. One of my favorites is Cecilia Bartoli, so here she is.

Colors wet and dry

Today I’m honoring the current season with photos of leaves and berries. That’s it; leaves and berries. 

 

 

Homecomings

As I always do around now, I'm thinking of the men and women who serve/have served in our armed forces. And more than in other years, the words "brothers and sisters" come to my mind.  

In this tumultuous time, I’m steering clear of any political slant for my Veterans/Remembrance Day post. I’m instead giving you a video of a colleague of mine as he arrived home from a tour of Afghanistan, and a poem.

First, the colleague; you’ve probably seen this before, but I am so proud to be working with him and all the other vets in my company:

I dare you to watch this without a huge grin on your lips and tears in your eyes.

I normally save poems for National Poetry Month, but Walt Whitman’s “Dirge for Two Veterans” seems right. My other poem today is Walt Whitman’s “Dirge for Two Veterans”. Whitman had an up-close-and-personal view of the War Between the States; he volunteered as a nurse and witnessed some of the worst that could be seen, considering the carnage of that war and the state of medicine at that time.

The grave he describes is a double one: father and son, not an unheard-of event in that particular war.

“Dirge for Two Veterans”

THE last sunbeam
Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath,
On the pavement here--and there beyond, it is looking,
Down a new-made double grave.

Lo! the moon ascending!
Up from the east, the silvery round moon;
Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;
Immense and silent moon.

I see a sad procession,
And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles;
All the channels of the city streets they're flooding,
As with voices and with tears.

I hear the great drums pounding,
And the small drums steady whirring;
And every blow of the great convulsive drums,
Strikes me through and through.

For the son is brought with the father;
In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell;
Two veterans, son and father, dropt together,
And the double grave awaits them.

Now nearer blow the bugles,
And the drums strike more convulsive;
And the day-light o'er the pavement quite has faded,
And the strong dead-march enwraps me.

In the eastern sky up-buoying,
The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd;
('Tis some mother's large, transparent face,
In heaven brighter growing.)

O strong dead-march, you please me!
O moon immense, with your silvery face you soothe me!
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light,
And the bugles and the drums give you music;
And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,
My heart gives you love.

Global commerce

Twenty years ago when I lived in the UK, there was a whole thing called “Rip-off Britain”. It was all about how Brits are charged over the odds for, well, everything, both goods and services. One of my colleagues told me that the rationale for the stupid prices was that the island is so small and real estate is consequently expensive, so that has to be factored into everything.

Well, maybe, but I was reminded of that this weekend, in a big way.

My friend MLD is a bell ringer in England; she also rings peals on handbells. Both these activities have been curtailed by COVID—there was first the absolute lockdown, and then gatherings were restricted to six people or fewer, with appropriate social distancing. So, for example, her church tower could only ring six of the ten bells, and any handbell socials had to be held outdoors. (In England’s climate, this pretty well restricts things to about seven weeks total.)

Well, now that even those opportunities have been squelched (thanks, never-maskers!), the church towers are silent again and the handbell ringers are attempting remote practices.

Well, MLD does not have a headset, and she’s a little unsure about how to get one, especially since shopping is a mare’s nest these days, so—since I totally screwed the pooch on her birthday in June—I thought this would be something I could easily take care of as I was waiting for my pizza stone to heat on Friday evening.

Naturally, I read some reviews, went on Amazon and found something suitable. Wired, since she doesn’t have Bluetooth.

(Here follows really tacky monetary revelations on my part, so MLD, feel free not to read further.)

AmazonUS told me that the headset costs $30.99 and I could get free delivery to my home by Saturday via Amazon Prime.

Uh—but when I shifted to Amazon.uk, it all changed. The price of the very same headset went from $30.99 to £33.32 ($43.82), it came from some third party and would cost me £3.74, plus VAT on both the merchandise and the shipping. Total: £44.48 ($58.50). Also—it won’t be delivered until Thursday, 12 November.

Look, I am happy to be able to help MLD out with this tech, and in the global scheme of things, the cost is a bagatelle. But to pay just about double for something just because of the UK surcharge is really annoying. If I lived there again, I’d be pissed off about it all the time.

But I’m looking forward to hearing about the handbells-via-Zoom sessions. That’s a good thing.

 

 

 

 

Gratitude Monday: all the things

On this Gratitude Monday…do you even have to ask? 

But if you do, here we go:

I’m grateful that the people’s voices have been recorded and reported, and that Cadet Bonespurs and his kleptocratic, nihilistic administration are getting booted. In their place we have Joe Biden—not my first choice, but really looking like he’s the right person for the times—and Kamala Harris—who was my first choice, and now she’s got four years to learn this side of the government.

I’m grateful that Biden and Harris are already working on plans for dealing with the pandemic, both from a health and an economic perspective. We were never going to get anything out of Bonespurs.

I’m grateful for every person who voted—standing in lines for hours, masked and loaded with water and snacks. And for those who marked their ballots and sent them in via drop boxes and mail boxes in accordance with the law. You people are heroes, one and all.

I’m grateful for the judges who laughed in R lawyers’ faces when they tried to block the lawful operations of the elections.

I’m grateful for one of my colleagues in Vancouver, B.C., who offered to be our Emotional Support Canadian over the past week. I confess I was rather hoping for Paul Gross, but it’s so good to know that our neighbors to the North do not hold the past four years of monumentally bad behavior against us.

I’m grateful to my friend CN and thousands more like her, who phonebanked her heart out right up until Tuesday. This is not something I can do, but I’m deeply thankful for those who performed that critical outreach in a respectful way all through this cycle.

I’m grateful for folks on Twitter who have inspired and consoled their followers for months. I confess that I’m getting a kick out of all the gnashing of Repug teeth over the outcome, being unsurprised at their lawandorder resorting to mob action in ludicrous (though dangerous and scary) attempts to subvert the counting of ballots. It’s really sad how ignorant and selfish millions of my countryfolk are. But right now, I’m just laughing and laughing at the pundits telling 75+ million people that we should give 45 and his followers a few days to “absorb the reality”, and then he/they will concede.

As bloody if.

I’m grateful to world leaders whose congratulations to Biden and Harris started pouring in about 37 seconds after Pennsylvania was called. They clearly had these messages prepped for days, if not weeks, and there’s genuine pleasure behind them. Even Bibi—that’s gotta bite, no? What relief they must be feeling, even though they’ll never be able to fully trust us in the future, not after the past few years. They know how tenuous our grip on democracy and responsibility and accountability is.

I’m grateful for Pennsylvania and especially to Philadelphia, which has been a flippin’ (ha!) dance party since about Wednesday. God bless each and every one of you, your DJs, your masks, your signs and your moves. I had a few dances around my house with you.

I’m grateful for Philadelphia’s mayor, who said on camera that Bonespurs needs to pull up his big-boy pants and move on. He won’t, of course, but hearing about it will send him into a carpet-eating rage.

I’m grateful for the incredible ineptitude of Rudy Giuliani, all the way through the election, clean up to his news conference Saturday at the Four Seasons Total Landscaping Company in Philly—nestled among an adult book store and a crematorium. You just can’t make this shit up, folks; it takes Republicans to do that. (The presser was about the Klepto campaign’s intention to continue fighting vote counts; evidently Rudy Colludi found out that Pennsylvania had been called while he was spewing his rant. Again—can’t make it up.)

I’m grateful that we still have a shot at the Senate. God. Bless. Georgia. I’m disappointed that Collins, Ernst and Tillis have been re-elected, because they’re useless, disgusting excuses for humanoids; you don’t even have to imagine my feelings about Moscow Mitch and Lady G. But Georgia is a gift and I say we focus on that.

While I’m at it, God bless Stacey Abrams.

I’m grateful to the hundreds of people who punked the R’s “voter fraud reporting hotline”, calling up to laugh, mock and just take up their time. (Sorry for the interns and minimum-wage drones who had to take the calls or listen to the voicemails.)

I’m grateful for CNN contributor Van Jones, who summarized the meaning of this presidential election in less than two minutes. Character matters. Decency matters.

This election exposed a lot—we ripped up some floorboards and a bazillion nasty, scuttling and slithering things flowed up into the sunshine. The problems of systemic economic inequity, racism, hypocrisy, sexism and all the other things run so deep. And uprooting them will take so long. But at least we can see those creepy crawlies. They’ve come out and clicked their arthropod claws. We’ve got to fumigate before we can rebuild; disinfect the wound before we can heal; amend the soil before we can grow anything worthwhile in it.

I’m choosing to be grateful for this warning and for the opportunity to keep us moving forward.

That’s a lot of gratitude. And I didn’t think this would be a long post. Huh.

 

I remember every face

After this week, and this bloody election, I’m harking back to my roots. Those would be Dylan and Nina.

‘Nuff said.

 

 

Dining update

As we wait out the election—and our disappointment in the electorate’s choice of Senators—seems like a good time for me to give you pix of the takeout meals I ate last week.

Sushi, from Yoko Sushi:

Entrecôte au poivre, from Café Montmartre:

(No photo of the mousse au chocolat, but it was the best I’ve ever had.)

Scampi, from Gregorio’s Trattoria:

(This was the biggest disappointment of the week; not nearly enough garlic and the linguine was decidedly meh. How meh, you inquire? This meh: I put the leftover linguine out on the patio on Sunday, and neither the birds nor the squirrels would touch it. Some critter in the night took it, so possibly a hit with raccoons, possums or skunks.)

Persian lamb, from Rose Restaurant:

(That was two meals’ worth. Every bite lovely. Their baklava, however; meh.)

Roast chicken with thick-cut bacon and mushrooms, from Mon Ami Gabi:

(It was okay; the mushrooms were the best part. I added the broccolini. And their chocolate mousse might have been fine except I’d had Café M’s only a few days earlier.)

Friday I made my usual pizza bianca insalata; no pic. Saturday was left over chicken. And I am inexplicably unable to show you Sunday’s seared salmon from Cooper’s Hawk. It was absolutely delicious, so clearly I’ll have to get it another night and take a photo for you.

I also made a point of having breakfast at the dining table, as opposed to in front of a screen. The pain au chocolate is a bake-yourself from Trader Joe; I made café au lait to go with it. As is my custom when traveling, I used that time to add to my journal. My last entry prior to last week was 12 March, the day before I started WFH. I had a lot to catch up on.

Sorry all I can share with you is the photos. Many of these meals were absolutely top notch; they would have improved for me having someone to join me. Maybe on my next vacation?

 

 

 

 

 

Cauchemar

 

Folks, I got nothing today. This nightmare is not ending soon, and I just have nothing to say.

I hate you, 2020.

Why we fight

Well, today’s the day. It’s going to be hard for me to spend my day on the computer without trying to look at the news every three minutes, so every time I’m tempted, I’m going to have to instead do a yoga pose.

I really have no words for you today, so let me instead give you some pictures of America to remind you what’s at stake and what we can be when we really try.

I shot this photo while visiting my BFF in Oregon one autumn. It reminds me of the natural beauty of this land, and of the years of friendship we shared:

This one’s from the Great River Road on the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota—which is hardly great, rather far from the (Mississippi) River and not much of a road. But still. For many, many people, this is the heartland—it was and maybe it still is, I dunno:

To me, this commercial mashup epitomizes the strength and richness of the American experience; I shot it in Glendale, Calif., in the last century, but these days it could be in a lot of cities:

Technically speaking, this isn’t America. Well, actually speaking, it’s not America. I took it on my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. But it’s always reminded me that poco a poco, se va lejos, and in times like these, even incremental shifts toward the good are to be valued:

This one’s from the Renaissance Pleasure Faire and Maymarket, back in the Old Days in Agoura (now nothing but housing tracts and strip malls; progress, man). But it’s always made me smile. I took the French language assistant (a Parisian) to the Faire one year, and she marveled at seeing Americans dress up in costumes (many rather lame, tbh, but efforts all the same)—the French would never do that, she said. Yeah, prolly not:

Two photos from Arlington National Cemetery, to remind us of the cost of bringing us to where we stand. The second one is from Memorial Day 2016, in Section 60, where the most recent dead are joining comrades from the past. These are not losers or suckers; they are men and women who paid for our way of life with their lives. Imagine that:

This is from two weeks ago: Fairfax County Public Library adjusting to the reality of being eight months into a pandemic without national leadership:

And finally—tonight I light candles for hope. And courage. And  faith in America.

 

Gratitude Monday: holding the line

Tomorrow, as all the world knows, is a Big Day, and there’s so much riding on the outcome. We’ve already seen what happens when the highest authority in the land not only condones but encourages lawlessness, and it makes my heart sick that this is happening in my country. 

There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that Cadet Bonespurs and his ilk will try to steal the election if it doesn’t go their way. They’ve spent months eliminating voters from the rolls, restricting voting options in the middle of a pandemic, lying about the validity of mail-in ballots and intimidating voters at the polls. If all that doesn’t work, well, as an acquaintance of mine proclaimed on Facebook, they’ve “loaded their magazines”. Because "antifa".

These are mostly white people who’ve swallowed a load of crap about how their “freedoms” are endangered by non-white people; that’s easier for them to believe than that they’re the buggy makers in the age of automobiles and they should adapt to the new. No, they want the planet to stop whirling, and return to the days when they were told they had it made, and the world was only right when they were running things without any objections or criticisms from their inferiors.

They view “equality” as a threat, because—like Bonespurs—they see everything (including freedom) as zero sum. Whatever anyone else has means less for them, and they’re not having it. They believe this is their last chance to right the course of the country, and it’s making them desperate. And we know what desperate people do. Especially if they’re packing military-grade firearms and are egged on by the mouth-foaming bluster of a man whose ill behavior they’d not tolerate in their living room for longer than eight minutes without bitchslapping him.

As long as he’s in the White House, not their house, however, he’s telling it like it is, and owning the libs. He’s their last, best hope, and that makes them all pathetic. Even with their armory.

Well, so what to be grateful for today? What?

People have been standing in lines for hours during the past few weeks to cast their votes. I’m deeply grateful for them.

People have been helping and encouraging new citizens and young people to register and vote. You guys totally rock!

Lawyers have been filing suit in every possible jurisdiction to block Republican efforts to make non-Republican voting impossible. I love you guys, and I’m proud to support the ACLU.

Companies and organizations are working tirelessly to hunt down and prevent foreign interference in the election. One of them is my employer and I cannot tell you how grateful and proud I am to be a part of that fight against cybercrime and cyberespionage.

This is going to be a rough week; we cannot expect Bonespurs or the Repugs to take the civil or decent route whatever happens. I admit—I am scared in a way that I’ve never been before. But I’m thankful that there are those who are standing up for the values this country has aspired to for nearly 250 years. I hope to God we can hold the line.