Dear Reader,
The following is something I wrote back in the middle of August, before I actually opened this blog. It was also before several events happened: the man I was trying to date dumped me (twice), my beautiful cat became ill and died, I started to feel lonely, inadequate and rejected, all manner of negative stuff. I am amazed at how positively I was looking at life only about 3 ½ months ago! I hope I am able to get back to this, which is a correspondence with a friend of mine (he’s married), who was having some of his own issues at that time ("I'm" in rose; "he's" in gray):
I've been working on this for some time, so I apologize for my delayed response to yours of a couple of weeks ago. This is apropos of our discussion re: the house out there and the difficulties dealing with it sometimes. I hope you realize that I do mean to help, or at least give another viewpoint, and I'm glad that you and I have worked together long enough so that I can do that. That said, here is what I have to say in furtherance of this discussion:
Like most good things of value, this one takes a lot of time and aggravation, and as time goes by I seem to have less patience. So, I get down.
Then, I still seem to rally—especially on a beautiful day.
As far as I can tell, from myself and those around me, you're not alone in your lack of patience. For me, the core thought is that there are things over which I simply have no control, and so are not worth expending the energy of aggravation or frustration. I don't mean this as surrender by any means, but more a source of trying to turn negatives into positives.
I've found over the years that frustration, anger and other negative emotions really devour much more energy than other ones. As a conservationist, I try to save energy, including my own. This doesn't mean I'm disinterested or uninvolved; it means that I say a couple of GD's, then go to the next thing. How to correct the problem, how to avoid it in the future, etc. Also, being frustrated shouldn't bring you down; it should simply challenge you, like exercising or, in my case, going to sleep. These are not irreparable things; just a few bumps in the road. And, on a nice day, you've got that renewal.
Sometimes, when I go out into my gardens after a busy Friday or Saturday night, I get truly angry and depressed at what I find. How can civilized human beings do this? Don't they have any consideration for other folks in the park? Believe me, I find awful stuff, that is truly upsetting. I sometimes (less frequently these days) find plants damaged or destroyed, trees harmed, trash, dog excrement, etc. So, I mutter under my breath while I undo the damage, and hope, by doing so, that the people who do the damage will learn something, and the folks who use the park will do more to stand up for the place when I'm not there. Believe it or not, this has had some success. I have far less trash and damage now than I did even a year ago. Even my resident psycho generally cleans up after himself. Why? Because I took the problems and just worked over them. It's very hard, believe me, but conserving and renewing your emotional energy this way really helps.
I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I just walk around and closely examine the plants and trees, to check out how they are doing, and to re-energize myself. I really feel that I can get some positive energy from this. I know you have spent a lot of time and money making the grounds of the house beautiful and resemble some of your early life's surroundings. I think you had shad and a few other plants put in that are not typical in New York gardens. It might help, on one of those beautiful days, or better yet, a crappy one, to go out and see how those guys are doing. I think your wife is totally on the right track with a cutting garden and other garden accoutrements!
Tell me, wise “Catbird,” how does a person break the habits of a lifetime, and accept things that are not perfect?! Really! I would like to know. That is my struggle. How can I be content to accept that I can’t control things important-- at least to me?
So, my thought is, you don't have to accept things that are less than perfect, but don't expend so much energy being irritated about their lack of perfection. Try to see the steps necessary to make things the way you want them to be, but remember that attaining perfection is a long and arduous process, which may involve several stops along the way. Also, keep in mind that your version of perfect may not be another person's, or anyone else's for that matter.
In general, you can control the really important things. Maybe not when a sprinkler goes on or off, or certainly when it rains, but other things you can control. Worried about a storm? Okay, insurance is in place, but maybe you want to get a generator, just in case the power goes out for any length of time. Keep some gasoline available, just in case; flashlights, batteries; you know the drill. Make sure any meds you and yours need are available. As you and she get older this will become a more important issue.
You can control your health to a large extent. These days, we're in a much better position to do that than ever before. We know more about what our bodies are doing (or not) than any generation before us, and know more about what to do (or not) to keep our bodies (the machines our minds and spirits live in) going.
It's not as black and white as accepting things the way they are. Everything is really gray; you can do something to make things more the way you want, but on the other hand, you may never be able to get things exactly the way you want. This would apply to the current house, and certainly to a new one, because you would have to start the honing process all over again. By keeping the house you currently have, you're many more steps down the road than you would be if you started over again.
I read this back and I see a lucky, spoiled person talking!!
No, you're neither spoiled nor lucky. You have high expectations because those are the standards you were imbued with. And thank heaven for that. I hate the "least common denominator" mentality that seems to govern most of society nowadays, and I fear that it's only going to get worse. I fear that folks my age may be the last bunch to realize there is something better than people who can't (or won't) speak English, who think that rap is actually music, and that what's on TV is a parameter to live UP to. I think all I can do is work hard, take care of my gardens, sing well, and hope that in some way I leave something behind to make subsequent people appreciate the better things in life. I think you can do that, too.
Sorry to get so philosophical, but it helps me focus my thoughts, as well. Again, try to make things a positive. It really helps.
Yes, it does,
Catbird
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thanksgiving and, maybe, Thanks for Giving?
Dear Reader,
Thanksgiving.........Usually.........Sucks.
There, I said, it. That’s all it takes, really, isn’t it?
Everyone has Thanksgiving issues and “traditions,” including a story or two that probably define Thanksgiving for that family. I know that my family certainly does, some of which stories involve me.
Now, here’s a thought: why does “Thanksgiving” have to be on one, singular day, imbued with so much angst, weight, guilt, hope, love, real or hoped-for affection, largess? Why can’t a day of “thanksgiving” be recognized by individuals or families when those occasions present themselves for those folks? Why are we supposed to gather up all of the things we have to be thankful for, and only celebrate them on this day? Why can’t we celebrate whenever there is a time to be thankful?
The reason I think, is because these days, we are almost embarrassed to be happy or thankful. Many of us live great lives, but we look at what we think we lack, not at what we have. And I don’t mean what we have, compared to people in Africa or India, who truly have nothing. I mean, we compare ourselves reflexively to people on TV or in the news, to those morons who have everything and do nothing with it except buy more things for themselves. Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Brittany Spears, Sean Combs, Jay Leno (with a garage full of ultra-luxury cars and motorcycles): these famous people who have multiple, palatial homes, multiple cars, and huge screen HDTV’s in every room that they don’t even watch, live in or drive, are the people used as examples of what the rest of us should aspire to, at least with regard to what they have or do. Then, if they make a guest appearance at a high-end charity fundraiser, or donate a few thousand dollars, they proclaim their great generosity and take on the mantle of sainthood.
Look at the percentages of their incomes that the rest of the fabulously wealthy contribute to charity. Look at what the Waltons and the rest of the top BILLIONAIRES in this country (forget about those in the rest of the world) make in direct charitable donations. Never mind those poor, poverty-stricken MILLIONAIRES! If all of these folks gave even half a tithe, a twentieth of their annual income (NOT a twentieth of their assets) to charity, so many people would be helped we might be looking at a different world. And, if they gave a portion of their assets, the world would be even THAT much better!
Now, I am aware that some of the richer class give tremendous amounts to charity; they give amounts of money that can actually make a difference. But so many of them don’t. The only “charities” they donate to are their progeny, or spouses, keeping the wealth in the family. I also realize these people cannot be forced to share their wealth; they are given tax and other incentives to do so, it’s good marketing and P/R for themselves or their businesses, but to some, these things aren’t important. To them, a new pair of Manolo Blahniks or a new Jag is the priority. Too bad.
Maybe I’m a giddy optimist, and am good at spending other folk’s money. But when we live in an age where some peoples’ private fortunes are in the same league as some nations’ GNP’s, I think we have a problem with too much wealth concentrated in too few hands, even in our capitalist, laissez-faire economy and society.
On this Thanksgiving I was grateful to be with friends, with whom I had some interesting political argument. I realized I’m not alone in hoping the country will get better after this most recent election, but the jury is still out on the “new” Democratic power base.
The larger issues remain, however. There is such a great disparity between the wealthy and the poor in this country; what used to be the “middle-class” has virtually disappeared, and those of us still in the middle are being squeezed terribly. There is so much to be done, and we simply can’t afford to do it; the wealthy upper-class has to take on its “tithe,” and help the rest of our society pull itself up by its bootstraps. Truly, if this were all the wealthy did, they would be doing much more than they are now and the word “Thanksgiving” would have some real meaning to so many others.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Catbird
Thanksgiving.........Usually.........Sucks.
There, I said, it. That’s all it takes, really, isn’t it?
Everyone has Thanksgiving issues and “traditions,” including a story or two that probably define Thanksgiving for that family. I know that my family certainly does, some of which stories involve me.
Now, here’s a thought: why does “Thanksgiving” have to be on one, singular day, imbued with so much angst, weight, guilt, hope, love, real or hoped-for affection, largess? Why can’t a day of “thanksgiving” be recognized by individuals or families when those occasions present themselves for those folks? Why are we supposed to gather up all of the things we have to be thankful for, and only celebrate them on this day? Why can’t we celebrate whenever there is a time to be thankful?
The reason I think, is because these days, we are almost embarrassed to be happy or thankful. Many of us live great lives, but we look at what we think we lack, not at what we have. And I don’t mean what we have, compared to people in Africa or India, who truly have nothing. I mean, we compare ourselves reflexively to people on TV or in the news, to those morons who have everything and do nothing with it except buy more things for themselves. Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Brittany Spears, Sean Combs, Jay Leno (with a garage full of ultra-luxury cars and motorcycles): these famous people who have multiple, palatial homes, multiple cars, and huge screen HDTV’s in every room that they don’t even watch, live in or drive, are the people used as examples of what the rest of us should aspire to, at least with regard to what they have or do. Then, if they make a guest appearance at a high-end charity fundraiser, or donate a few thousand dollars, they proclaim their great generosity and take on the mantle of sainthood.
Look at the percentages of their incomes that the rest of the fabulously wealthy contribute to charity. Look at what the Waltons and the rest of the top BILLIONAIRES in this country (forget about those in the rest of the world) make in direct charitable donations. Never mind those poor, poverty-stricken MILLIONAIRES! If all of these folks gave even half a tithe, a twentieth of their annual income (NOT a twentieth of their assets) to charity, so many people would be helped we might be looking at a different world. And, if they gave a portion of their assets, the world would be even THAT much better!
Now, I am aware that some of the richer class give tremendous amounts to charity; they give amounts of money that can actually make a difference. But so many of them don’t. The only “charities” they donate to are their progeny, or spouses, keeping the wealth in the family. I also realize these people cannot be forced to share their wealth; they are given tax and other incentives to do so, it’s good marketing and P/R for themselves or their businesses, but to some, these things aren’t important. To them, a new pair of Manolo Blahniks or a new Jag is the priority. Too bad.
Maybe I’m a giddy optimist, and am good at spending other folk’s money. But when we live in an age where some peoples’ private fortunes are in the same league as some nations’ GNP’s, I think we have a problem with too much wealth concentrated in too few hands, even in our capitalist, laissez-faire economy and society.
On this Thanksgiving I was grateful to be with friends, with whom I had some interesting political argument. I realized I’m not alone in hoping the country will get better after this most recent election, but the jury is still out on the “new” Democratic power base.
The larger issues remain, however. There is such a great disparity between the wealthy and the poor in this country; what used to be the “middle-class” has virtually disappeared, and those of us still in the middle are being squeezed terribly. There is so much to be done, and we simply can’t afford to do it; the wealthy upper-class has to take on its “tithe,” and help the rest of our society pull itself up by its bootstraps. Truly, if this were all the wealthy did, they would be doing much more than they are now and the word “Thanksgiving” would have some real meaning to so many others.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Catbird
Sunday, November 19, 2006
That’s Entertainment!
Dear Reader,
The title above is meant to be somewhat ironic. At the moment I am watching “Apocalypse Now-Redux.” I have seen the original movie in whole or in part a couple of times, but not this new cut, until now. I’m watching it on Bravo, so much of the hard-core cussing has been cut out, as I am sure many really juicy, bloody scenes have been, as well.
I’m watching it to be edified. I don’t normally do this. When I watch a movie, I want to be entertained. If I pay to go to a film, I want to come out feeling better than when I went in, not worse. I don’t want to come out of a movie questioning my existence, my intelligence, or wondering what the meaning of life is. I don’t want to regret having lost those two hours sitting through something that makes me dissatisfied or unhappy, then use my time talking or writing about it (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/11/faking-pledge.html). This doesn’t mean I am shallow; I just like to be amused. I am watching “Apoc.Now-Redux” so that I can say, at some point, that I did indeed see it, and had an opinion on it. So far, I’ve found the additional segments to be tedious and too long, and the new background music is so different as to make it obvious that these were later additions. Not being a cinema expert, my opinions are probably amateurish; so be it. I’m willing to watch this at home, late at night because, frankly, there is nothing else on and I’m not paying for it.
As I said above, if I am paying for entertainment, I want to be entertained. I want to come out of a movie or a show with a skip in my step, or at least a partial smile on my face. I get enough edification and updating from the newspapers, the radio, the internet and MSNBC or CNN Headline News. There’s enough bad news and crap to deal with in the world, the nation and this City, to warrant a little fun when one goes out. This is decidedly not an “intellectual” approach to the arts, I suppose.
I sometimes refer to people I find to be intellectually snobbish as “pseudo-intellectuals.” I recently realized that the comparison I was drawing between real intellectuals, i.e., people who are smart in a well-rounded way, and “pseudo-intellectuals,” i.e., people who like to demonstrate how “smart” they are, is essentially the same as the comparison between the established wealthy, and the nouveau-riche. The established wealthy generally have class, true style, and manners. The nouveau-riche just want to show how much stuff they have. I think the same principal applies to intellect, and the demonstrations and uses thereof.
Now, in the midst of this writing, I am watching Dennis Hopper in this film (Apocalypse Now-Redux), and he is "Fucking Brilliant." I have to say it that way. He is still Fucking Brilliant, even in the “retirement” ads he’s currently doing. And, Marlon Brando is brilliant, as are Martin Sheen and Robert Duvall. How did these four actors put in such unbelievable performances? Raw talent, I suppose, and maybe some directing by Coppola. But I digress, as I frequently do.
The point of this entry is not to defend my not having seen every film that has ever been released, or read every book published. In addition to the entertainment aspect, I also like to save my brain to try to remember who I meet, what I talk about with them, their names, etc. Sometimes I’m successful, sometimes not. Frequently, I remember discussions I’ve had with people before I remember their names. I also have to save some space in my mind for my work. Accounting/bookkeeping involves remembering minute details about a particular client’s business, details which the client is frequently conversant with, although sometimes not. And if they are not, I have to remember for them. In addition, because I work on-site many times, I have to remember where everything in each office is located: my work space, office supplies, how the copier works, that location's computer system, etc. Lots of memory required!
Damn, Brando was Amazing! Too bad he became such a parody of himself later.
I wish sometimes I could say I’d seen every movie, or read every book. I haven’t. But don’t insult me by asking me if I’ve ever seen anything (yes I have, just not all of the sad, serious stuff; ask me anything about Star Wars, Star Trek, Marx Brothers, Terminator, Lion King, sci-fi, Lord of the Rings, etc., and I can tell you all); don’t demean me by asking me if I like to read (yes, I do; the newspaper, gardening books, music and the occasional interesting novel or history book). I am not a pseudo-intellectual; I don’t need to demonstrate how smart I am by always citing stuff exterior to my own thoughts. My own mind is a good enough demonstration of my smarts.
Oh, and the Doors are totally unbelievable (another Apoc.Now.Redux reference). What would rock music be if Jim Morrison hadn’t died??
More to Come,
Catbird
The title above is meant to be somewhat ironic. At the moment I am watching “Apocalypse Now-Redux.” I have seen the original movie in whole or in part a couple of times, but not this new cut, until now. I’m watching it on Bravo, so much of the hard-core cussing has been cut out, as I am sure many really juicy, bloody scenes have been, as well.
I’m watching it to be edified. I don’t normally do this. When I watch a movie, I want to be entertained. If I pay to go to a film, I want to come out feeling better than when I went in, not worse. I don’t want to come out of a movie questioning my existence, my intelligence, or wondering what the meaning of life is. I don’t want to regret having lost those two hours sitting through something that makes me dissatisfied or unhappy, then use my time talking or writing about it (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/11/faking-pledge.html). This doesn’t mean I am shallow; I just like to be amused. I am watching “Apoc.Now-Redux” so that I can say, at some point, that I did indeed see it, and had an opinion on it. So far, I’ve found the additional segments to be tedious and too long, and the new background music is so different as to make it obvious that these were later additions. Not being a cinema expert, my opinions are probably amateurish; so be it. I’m willing to watch this at home, late at night because, frankly, there is nothing else on and I’m not paying for it.
As I said above, if I am paying for entertainment, I want to be entertained. I want to come out of a movie or a show with a skip in my step, or at least a partial smile on my face. I get enough edification and updating from the newspapers, the radio, the internet and MSNBC or CNN Headline News. There’s enough bad news and crap to deal with in the world, the nation and this City, to warrant a little fun when one goes out. This is decidedly not an “intellectual” approach to the arts, I suppose.
I sometimes refer to people I find to be intellectually snobbish as “pseudo-intellectuals.” I recently realized that the comparison I was drawing between real intellectuals, i.e., people who are smart in a well-rounded way, and “pseudo-intellectuals,” i.e., people who like to demonstrate how “smart” they are, is essentially the same as the comparison between the established wealthy, and the nouveau-riche. The established wealthy generally have class, true style, and manners. The nouveau-riche just want to show how much stuff they have. I think the same principal applies to intellect, and the demonstrations and uses thereof.
Now, in the midst of this writing, I am watching Dennis Hopper in this film (Apocalypse Now-Redux), and he is "Fucking Brilliant." I have to say it that way. He is still Fucking Brilliant, even in the “retirement” ads he’s currently doing. And, Marlon Brando is brilliant, as are Martin Sheen and Robert Duvall. How did these four actors put in such unbelievable performances? Raw talent, I suppose, and maybe some directing by Coppola. But I digress, as I frequently do.
The point of this entry is not to defend my not having seen every film that has ever been released, or read every book published. In addition to the entertainment aspect, I also like to save my brain to try to remember who I meet, what I talk about with them, their names, etc. Sometimes I’m successful, sometimes not. Frequently, I remember discussions I’ve had with people before I remember their names. I also have to save some space in my mind for my work. Accounting/bookkeeping involves remembering minute details about a particular client’s business, details which the client is frequently conversant with, although sometimes not. And if they are not, I have to remember for them. In addition, because I work on-site many times, I have to remember where everything in each office is located: my work space, office supplies, how the copier works, that location's computer system, etc. Lots of memory required!
Damn, Brando was Amazing! Too bad he became such a parody of himself later.
I wish sometimes I could say I’d seen every movie, or read every book. I haven’t. But don’t insult me by asking me if I’ve ever seen anything (yes I have, just not all of the sad, serious stuff; ask me anything about Star Wars, Star Trek, Marx Brothers, Terminator, Lion King, sci-fi, Lord of the Rings, etc., and I can tell you all); don’t demean me by asking me if I like to read (yes, I do; the newspaper, gardening books, music and the occasional interesting novel or history book). I am not a pseudo-intellectual; I don’t need to demonstrate how smart I am by always citing stuff exterior to my own thoughts. My own mind is a good enough demonstration of my smarts.
Oh, and the Doors are totally unbelievable (another Apoc.Now.Redux reference). What would rock music be if Jim Morrison hadn’t died??
More to Come,
Catbird
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Third Try! Klaatu Barada Nikto!
Dear Readers,
Okay, no takers as of 11/15/06, so the offer has been extended again:
Klaatu Barada Nikto. You name the reference, I'll buy you a drink: for the first 5 correct answers in NYC only, to 12/15/06.
Come on, people!
Have fun,
Catbird
PS: HInt: http://www.answers.com/topic/klaatu-barada-nikto
Okay, no takers as of 11/15/06, so the offer has been extended again:
Klaatu Barada Nikto. You name the reference, I'll buy you a drink: for the first 5 correct answers in NYC only, to 12/15/06.
Come on, people!
Have fun,
Catbird
PS: HInt: http://www.answers.com/topic/klaatu-barada-nikto
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Crud.
Dear Reader,
Crud, again.
Saturday in the Park, as previously reported, was a lovely, nice day. But then we had a Sunday that rained all day, and then back to the real world on Monday.
I suppose Monday could have been worse. I made a breakthrough (I think) with a client, and had a decent time at a Riverside Park Fund meeting. But my internal milieu is so difficult, I’m left with a big sad place, which I just hate to feel.
I’ve had so much loss and death in the last two months. Loss of what I thought was affection, which apparently was never there in the first place; death of my eleven-year-old companion cat; death of a therapy partner dog; loss of my own ability to reach out; loss of most feelings of self-worth. How can I reconstruct this? How do I pull myself together again?
Where do I go from here? I feel that I’ve got no one. I don’t even know how to go out to a movie. I don’t want to be this isolated or curmudgeonly; apparently, I just am. Honestly, I don’t know where or how to begin. I’m swinging in the wind here, and have no clue as to what to do next. Any sensible advice would be appreciated.
Thanks and best,
Catbird
Crud, again.
Saturday in the Park, as previously reported, was a lovely, nice day. But then we had a Sunday that rained all day, and then back to the real world on Monday.
I suppose Monday could have been worse. I made a breakthrough (I think) with a client, and had a decent time at a Riverside Park Fund meeting. But my internal milieu is so difficult, I’m left with a big sad place, which I just hate to feel.
I’ve had so much loss and death in the last two months. Loss of what I thought was affection, which apparently was never there in the first place; death of my eleven-year-old companion cat; death of a therapy partner dog; loss of my own ability to reach out; loss of most feelings of self-worth. How can I reconstruct this? How do I pull myself together again?
Where do I go from here? I feel that I’ve got no one. I don’t even know how to go out to a movie. I don’t want to be this isolated or curmudgeonly; apparently, I just am. Honestly, I don’t know where or how to begin. I’m swinging in the wind here, and have no clue as to what to do next. Any sensible advice would be appreciated.
Thanks and best,
Catbird
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Indian Summer: A Peaceful Place in the City
Dear Reader,
Yesterday, Saturday November 11, Veteran’s Day, may also have been the first and last day of “Indian Summer.” According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, Indian Summer traditionally begins on St. Martins Day, November 11, and continues for a few days or so; a last respite of warm weather before late fall and winter really settle in.
Yesterday in the park seemed more like an early spring day than a late fall one; lots of folks out, not just dog walkers, in light jackets or shirtsleeves, playing ball or soccer, or frisbee with the dog, or sitting on the benches and reading and talking.
I was out in the late afternoon, rolling up hoses for the season and planting spring bulbs. These were both activities which felt incongruous with the weather, but which had to be done because I know that, inevitably, the cold weather will arrive, the ground will freeze, and I won’t be able to do anything outdoors but rake leaves and pick up garbage.
Many of the “regulars” were out: the senior couple who, in the summer, bring their folding chairs and sit and read; the lady I spoke with last week about her recently deceased cat; a few other of the folks who normally walk their dogs in my area, including one lady who occasionally resents anyone else invading "her and her dogs’ park".
There was also a large group of folks, with several kids, babies and carriages. The aforementioned woman seemed to be getting agitated at their presence. I carried on a discussion with her, basically telling her that I was happy that she walked her dogs in my area, but that those people had the same right to be in the park. I steered her away from going over and confronting them, which she said she wanted to do. She has the typical old-timer Upper West Side "chip" on her shoulder, which I get occasionally: the idea that many of the new residents in our neighborhood look down their noses at us old-timers, as being less well-to-do (we may be), less cultured (not likely) or just less “qualified” to live in this neighborhood anymore.
My philosophy in the Park includes none of this. I am just as happy to welcome folks who have lived in the area for the last six decades as I am to welcome those who have just moved here from where ever. They are all Park Users to me; folks who come out to the Park for a breath of fresh air, to walk their dogs (and hopefully pick up after them), to smoke a cigar or a pipe or some ganja, to enjoy the plants and trees, to just hang in a peaceful place for a while.
I have tried to make my area of the Park a really peaceful, calming place, not just for me, but for everyone who comes by. In speaking with people who come by and spend time, I think in many ways I’ve succeeded, although there is still a lot of work to do. But at the moment, it seems to be a “peaceable kingdom,” where old neighbors and new, dogs and people and babies all seem to be able to get along. Even the squirrels are interactive, although not when a dog comes by.
I hope you can come out sometime, and visit. If you’re in NYC it’s an easy place to find.
Thanks for reading,
Catbird
Yesterday, Saturday November 11, Veteran’s Day, may also have been the first and last day of “Indian Summer.” According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, Indian Summer traditionally begins on St. Martins Day, November 11, and continues for a few days or so; a last respite of warm weather before late fall and winter really settle in.
Yesterday in the park seemed more like an early spring day than a late fall one; lots of folks out, not just dog walkers, in light jackets or shirtsleeves, playing ball or soccer, or frisbee with the dog, or sitting on the benches and reading and talking.
I was out in the late afternoon, rolling up hoses for the season and planting spring bulbs. These were both activities which felt incongruous with the weather, but which had to be done because I know that, inevitably, the cold weather will arrive, the ground will freeze, and I won’t be able to do anything outdoors but rake leaves and pick up garbage.
Many of the “regulars” were out: the senior couple who, in the summer, bring their folding chairs and sit and read; the lady I spoke with last week about her recently deceased cat; a few other of the folks who normally walk their dogs in my area, including one lady who occasionally resents anyone else invading "her and her dogs’ park".
There was also a large group of folks, with several kids, babies and carriages. The aforementioned woman seemed to be getting agitated at their presence. I carried on a discussion with her, basically telling her that I was happy that she walked her dogs in my area, but that those people had the same right to be in the park. I steered her away from going over and confronting them, which she said she wanted to do. She has the typical old-timer Upper West Side "chip" on her shoulder, which I get occasionally: the idea that many of the new residents in our neighborhood look down their noses at us old-timers, as being less well-to-do (we may be), less cultured (not likely) or just less “qualified” to live in this neighborhood anymore.
My philosophy in the Park includes none of this. I am just as happy to welcome folks who have lived in the area for the last six decades as I am to welcome those who have just moved here from where ever. They are all Park Users to me; folks who come out to the Park for a breath of fresh air, to walk their dogs (and hopefully pick up after them), to smoke a cigar or a pipe or some ganja, to enjoy the plants and trees, to just hang in a peaceful place for a while.
I have tried to make my area of the Park a really peaceful, calming place, not just for me, but for everyone who comes by. In speaking with people who come by and spend time, I think in many ways I’ve succeeded, although there is still a lot of work to do. But at the moment, it seems to be a “peaceable kingdom,” where old neighbors and new, dogs and people and babies all seem to be able to get along. Even the squirrels are interactive, although not when a dog comes by.
I hope you can come out sometime, and visit. If you’re in NYC it’s an easy place to find.
Thanks for reading,
Catbird
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
It's Not Over Yet!
Dear Reader,
A short note on the elections yesterday.
Despite the Democratic victories (hence, my BLUE typeface), it's not over yet. At this point in the AM, 3:55 EST, the House has been decided, but the Senate is still a toss-up and might remain Republican. Even if it doesn't, it could end up as a tied body, in which case Cheney will revel in the role of tie-breaker.
And don't discount Bush's bully pulpit. Even as a lame duck, low-approval-rating president, he is still president (unless the congress can impeach him and get him out of office), and still has the power of the Executive branch of government behind him. This allows him a lot of leeway, and a lot of power which he can continue to misuse.
So, don't go all out in your celebrations. There is still a long way to go, and much work to do, to get back our Constitutional government and many of the civil rights that have been encroached upon by this administration. And we have to keep up the work to maintain the rights we have. A House of Representatives majority doesn't mean a complete victory; just a partial one, which could simply end up as a morass if the Senate remains Republican.
There are still two years until the next presidential election, and who knows what will happen in the interim. The US engages in a "police action" in Iran; North Korean nuclear attack on the South or Japan; wholesale collapse in Iraq; Bush senior dies and it leads to a huge wave of Republican sympathy, allowing Jeb to be elected President? Oh, now I won't be able to go to sleep!
Dream on,
Catbird
A short note on the elections yesterday.
Despite the Democratic victories (hence, my BLUE typeface), it's not over yet. At this point in the AM, 3:55 EST, the House has been decided, but the Senate is still a toss-up and might remain Republican. Even if it doesn't, it could end up as a tied body, in which case Cheney will revel in the role of tie-breaker.
And don't discount Bush's bully pulpit. Even as a lame duck, low-approval-rating president, he is still president (unless the congress can impeach him and get him out of office), and still has the power of the Executive branch of government behind him. This allows him a lot of leeway, and a lot of power which he can continue to misuse.
So, don't go all out in your celebrations. There is still a long way to go, and much work to do, to get back our Constitutional government and many of the civil rights that have been encroached upon by this administration. And we have to keep up the work to maintain the rights we have. A House of Representatives majority doesn't mean a complete victory; just a partial one, which could simply end up as a morass if the Senate remains Republican.
There are still two years until the next presidential election, and who knows what will happen in the interim. The US engages in a "police action" in Iran; North Korean nuclear attack on the South or Japan; wholesale collapse in Iraq; Bush senior dies and it leads to a huge wave of Republican sympathy, allowing Jeb to be elected President? Oh, now I won't be able to go to sleep!
Dream on,
Catbird
Space Invaders!
Dear Reader,
When one has lived in one’s abode for as long as I have in mine, it’s sometimes extremely difficult to have people in to work on the place. This has led to my learning many repair skills, including electrical wiring, some plumbing, etc. But some things are just beyond me, for whatever reason.
In the immediate case, the ceiling in the main room of my studio desperately needed painting. I knew I simply would not be able to accomplish this job, (I’d done it before, but these days I’m just stretched too thin) so I scheduled with my building management to have the painters come in on October 30. Unfortunately, that day came in the midst of an incredible confluence of events that didn’t stop until the end of the day on the 31st. Actually, the after-effects haven’t stopped yet.
Ten days earlier, the man I had been trying to see dumped me for the second time; this really set me back. Then, on the 26th, my terminally ill cat, Winky, died, which, though not a surprise, broke my heart further. On Sunday, the 29th, the day before the painters were to arrive, the men of my chorus, plus a cast of additional hundreds, had a major performance. In addition to being there to support “our boys,” I also had to prepare and distribute the payroll for the many professional singers we hired for this gig. So, I had to go to the concert hall at the same time as the guys did for their dress rehearsal (early, for me on a Sunday!), plus show up trying to look great in the process. I got home in the early evening Sunday, too tired to do much to prepare for the advent of the painters the next day. Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t go to sleep; too stressed from all of the previously mentioned events.
I didn’t get to sleep until around 4 AM; I had moved a couple of things, but not much. Just to make it clear; my apartment is a studio; one room, separate kitchen, bathroom (thank heaven!), and a decent-sized hallway all of which are pretty much filled to capacity. In my defense, my “piles” were organized, so I actually knew where everything was. “Knew,” being the operative word.
The painters arrived promptly at 8:30 AM, and the front desk person held off buzzing me until 8:40. I asked her to hold them down there for a few minutes, and tried to get dressed and begin clearing out a few piles. But to where? Well, onto the couch, onto the bed, into the bathtub; anywhere there was some space. The painters came up, and helped me in my efforts to clear space. I didn’t pay any attention to where particular blocs of materials were being placed or thrown; I just wanted to get the stuff out of the way so they could get started. What a revelation! So much stuff; so little space! We managed to clear away enough so that the two-man crew could get to work; first it was hanging drop cloths over the entire room, then taping and scraping. Then it was plastering, and the end of Day 1. After they left, I tried to assess the situation, but it was, frankly, simply too overwhelming.
I was really happy with the two men who did the work, though. Pablo was from Chile; he spoke Spanish with that Castilian “lithp,” and hummed and whistled music that I was very familiar with: Bach, Brahms, even Beethoven. I asked him about it, and it turned out he is a tenor in his church’s choir, in which he sings with his wife! He was impressed that I was able to identify the selections he hummed; I was happy to have a musician in my apartment. The other man, Jose, didn’t speak much English, but was very kind and helpful, and both guys seemed to be understanding of the situation in my place. I apologized repeatedly for the difficult working conditions, and their responses were gracious and helped me to not feel so bad.
The second day, Hallowe’en, was the actual painting day. On that same day, I had to get to a client downtown (I had taken the day before off), and then run up to the church where my chorus rehearses and get the place set up for a party, and get into my Hallowe’en costume. I managed to pull it off, somehow, without being too late or looking too disheveled. But, with all of the running, I had no time to try and get my apartment back to “normal,” whatever that means. I still haven’t been able to accomplish that; just too much stuff to try and realign. So, I’m just trying to clear out, but that’s almost more difficult, though refreshing.
In the meantime, my two remaining cats dealt with the situation in each one’s unique way. Big Guy was a perfect gentleman; he stayed out and watched as the work progressed, and even interacted with the painters some. Kootie not only hid under the bed the entire time, but found a small box into which she crammed her large self head first. It took her three days to finally come out, although she did come out to use the box while I was sleeping. The poor thing was completely traumatized, however. She still runs and hides when she hears someone out in the hallway. I’m proud of both of them, though. Given that this upheaval happened so soon after their compatriot, Winky, died, they both have come through it very well, and are adapting to the reconfiguration of the stacks, piles and groupings in my apartment. Being cats, they have the physical flexibility to do so, and they’ve demonstrated their emotional flexibility as well. I wish I could adapt to change as well as they have!
More to come,
Catbird
When one has lived in one’s abode for as long as I have in mine, it’s sometimes extremely difficult to have people in to work on the place. This has led to my learning many repair skills, including electrical wiring, some plumbing, etc. But some things are just beyond me, for whatever reason.
In the immediate case, the ceiling in the main room of my studio desperately needed painting. I knew I simply would not be able to accomplish this job, (I’d done it before, but these days I’m just stretched too thin) so I scheduled with my building management to have the painters come in on October 30. Unfortunately, that day came in the midst of an incredible confluence of events that didn’t stop until the end of the day on the 31st. Actually, the after-effects haven’t stopped yet.
Ten days earlier, the man I had been trying to see dumped me for the second time; this really set me back. Then, on the 26th, my terminally ill cat, Winky, died, which, though not a surprise, broke my heart further. On Sunday, the 29th, the day before the painters were to arrive, the men of my chorus, plus a cast of additional hundreds, had a major performance. In addition to being there to support “our boys,” I also had to prepare and distribute the payroll for the many professional singers we hired for this gig. So, I had to go to the concert hall at the same time as the guys did for their dress rehearsal (early, for me on a Sunday!), plus show up trying to look great in the process. I got home in the early evening Sunday, too tired to do much to prepare for the advent of the painters the next day. Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t go to sleep; too stressed from all of the previously mentioned events.
I didn’t get to sleep until around 4 AM; I had moved a couple of things, but not much. Just to make it clear; my apartment is a studio; one room, separate kitchen, bathroom (thank heaven!), and a decent-sized hallway all of which are pretty much filled to capacity. In my defense, my “piles” were organized, so I actually knew where everything was. “Knew,” being the operative word.
The painters arrived promptly at 8:30 AM, and the front desk person held off buzzing me until 8:40. I asked her to hold them down there for a few minutes, and tried to get dressed and begin clearing out a few piles. But to where? Well, onto the couch, onto the bed, into the bathtub; anywhere there was some space. The painters came up, and helped me in my efforts to clear space. I didn’t pay any attention to where particular blocs of materials were being placed or thrown; I just wanted to get the stuff out of the way so they could get started. What a revelation! So much stuff; so little space! We managed to clear away enough so that the two-man crew could get to work; first it was hanging drop cloths over the entire room, then taping and scraping. Then it was plastering, and the end of Day 1. After they left, I tried to assess the situation, but it was, frankly, simply too overwhelming.
I was really happy with the two men who did the work, though. Pablo was from Chile; he spoke Spanish with that Castilian “lithp,” and hummed and whistled music that I was very familiar with: Bach, Brahms, even Beethoven. I asked him about it, and it turned out he is a tenor in his church’s choir, in which he sings with his wife! He was impressed that I was able to identify the selections he hummed; I was happy to have a musician in my apartment. The other man, Jose, didn’t speak much English, but was very kind and helpful, and both guys seemed to be understanding of the situation in my place. I apologized repeatedly for the difficult working conditions, and their responses were gracious and helped me to not feel so bad.
The second day, Hallowe’en, was the actual painting day. On that same day, I had to get to a client downtown (I had taken the day before off), and then run up to the church where my chorus rehearses and get the place set up for a party, and get into my Hallowe’en costume. I managed to pull it off, somehow, without being too late or looking too disheveled. But, with all of the running, I had no time to try and get my apartment back to “normal,” whatever that means. I still haven’t been able to accomplish that; just too much stuff to try and realign. So, I’m just trying to clear out, but that’s almost more difficult, though refreshing.
In the meantime, my two remaining cats dealt with the situation in each one’s unique way. Big Guy was a perfect gentleman; he stayed out and watched as the work progressed, and even interacted with the painters some. Kootie not only hid under the bed the entire time, but found a small box into which she crammed her large self head first. It took her three days to finally come out, although she did come out to use the box while I was sleeping. The poor thing was completely traumatized, however. She still runs and hides when she hears someone out in the hallway. I’m proud of both of them, though. Given that this upheaval happened so soon after their compatriot, Winky, died, they both have come through it very well, and are adapting to the reconfiguration of the stacks, piles and groupings in my apartment. Being cats, they have the physical flexibility to do so, and they’ve demonstrated their emotional flexibility as well. I wish I could adapt to change as well as they have!
More to come,
Catbird
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Party On?
Hallowe’en, Tuesday, October 31, 2006 (I'm a little behind!)
Dear Reader,
Post Hallowe’en letdown, but not so bad at the moment. We had a good rehearsal and party, and I was so pleased that so many members of the chorus stayed and partook, and came in costume!
It’s sometimes hard being the one who is always saying “Let’s have a party;” “Maybe we can have small gatherings to work on music (musicales or salons);” “Where are we going after the concert?;” even, “Let’s go out for drinks after rehearsal.” It begins to appear that either I have no other social life, or that I’m a hopeless drunk. At the moment, the former is more accurate than the latter.
What I am trying to do is foster a sense of community in the group I sing with. I know that many people join choral groups solely for the music and performance, but many other folks join not only for the music but also as a social exercise. People don’t join choral groups necessarily to meet that “certain someone,” but they do join frequently to establish or expand their social circles. Many choral singers, on moving to a new place, will look up the choruses first as their intro into the social life of their new home. I’ve seen this repeatedly in groups I have sung with. I did it myself when I came to New York City for college; the first thing I looked for on my college campus was the chorus. I still have friends from that group, 30 years later. In NYC, we are fortunate to have a wonderful choral resource, www.van.org, which is a website dedicated to choral groups and music in New York City and its environs.
The folks who sing with a chorus only for the music are okay, but these groups need that social aspect. If they did not have that, that is, if every member were there solely for the musical involvement, these organizations would cease to exist.
Most choral music organizations in New York City are “amateur” groups. Many of us prefer the word “avocational” because we think it better reflects the fact that many of us have extensive music/vocal training, and have been singing and working with choruses for years, sometimes decades. The problem is, these groups rely on their members for leadership, service on the Board of Directors, writing, proof-reading, concert production, banking, budget preparation, marketing, bill paying, advertising, fund raising, scheduling, and all other aspects of the group’s operations. Most choruses have no professional staff aside from the Music Director or conductor; a few can afford to have paid management, but these are in the minority. Without some sort of esprit de corps, the groups won’t function, and choral music, at least in New York City, would be greatly reduced.
So, I keep beating the drum for some sort of social exercises in my chorus, and hope I don’t sound like a desperate, lonely woman. I love the group and the folks in it, and I am optimistic that we’ll continue to grow and get better. We have had a series of wonderful, professional-caliber concerts over the last year or so (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/03/waiting-for-gergiev.html), and despite some stresses, have become a more cohesive group. I am hoping this development will continue, and I think parties and other gatherings are a good way to foster that, even if people do think I’m just a “party girl.”
Party On,
Catbird
Dear Reader,
Post Hallowe’en letdown, but not so bad at the moment. We had a good rehearsal and party, and I was so pleased that so many members of the chorus stayed and partook, and came in costume!
It’s sometimes hard being the one who is always saying “Let’s have a party;” “Maybe we can have small gatherings to work on music (musicales or salons);” “Where are we going after the concert?;” even, “Let’s go out for drinks after rehearsal.” It begins to appear that either I have no other social life, or that I’m a hopeless drunk. At the moment, the former is more accurate than the latter.
What I am trying to do is foster a sense of community in the group I sing with. I know that many people join choral groups solely for the music and performance, but many other folks join not only for the music but also as a social exercise. People don’t join choral groups necessarily to meet that “certain someone,” but they do join frequently to establish or expand their social circles. Many choral singers, on moving to a new place, will look up the choruses first as their intro into the social life of their new home. I’ve seen this repeatedly in groups I have sung with. I did it myself when I came to New York City for college; the first thing I looked for on my college campus was the chorus. I still have friends from that group, 30 years later. In NYC, we are fortunate to have a wonderful choral resource, www.van.org, which is a website dedicated to choral groups and music in New York City and its environs.
The folks who sing with a chorus only for the music are okay, but these groups need that social aspect. If they did not have that, that is, if every member were there solely for the musical involvement, these organizations would cease to exist.
Most choral music organizations in New York City are “amateur” groups. Many of us prefer the word “avocational” because we think it better reflects the fact that many of us have extensive music/vocal training, and have been singing and working with choruses for years, sometimes decades. The problem is, these groups rely on their members for leadership, service on the Board of Directors, writing, proof-reading, concert production, banking, budget preparation, marketing, bill paying, advertising, fund raising, scheduling, and all other aspects of the group’s operations. Most choruses have no professional staff aside from the Music Director or conductor; a few can afford to have paid management, but these are in the minority. Without some sort of esprit de corps, the groups won’t function, and choral music, at least in New York City, would be greatly reduced.
So, I keep beating the drum for some sort of social exercises in my chorus, and hope I don’t sound like a desperate, lonely woman. I love the group and the folks in it, and I am optimistic that we’ll continue to grow and get better. We have had a series of wonderful, professional-caliber concerts over the last year or so (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/03/waiting-for-gergiev.html), and despite some stresses, have become a more cohesive group. I am hoping this development will continue, and I think parties and other gatherings are a good way to foster that, even if people do think I’m just a “party girl.”
Party On,
Catbird
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Repost: "Sadness"
Dear Reader,
I've reposted an entry, below, after pulling it down at the request of the person about whom it is primarily written.
I've made this repost for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it's how I still feel, and it helps me to get my feelings out here.
I was also told by a friend, who has watched me go through the throes of the interaction with the gentleman in question, that I was a wimp to pull the entry because he didn't like it. I was trying to be amenable to him, but she's right. I didn't want to do a tit-for-tat with him, but it's not as if he didn't hurt me terribly, not once but twice.
In addition, I am assuming that he won't bother to look at this blog again after his initial perusal. He told me right out that he didn't bother to remember anything we talked about while we were seeing one another, including telling me about his girlfriend, which he did, twice. He has ceased replying to my emails, so I think I am making a safe assumption. I am also assuming that nothing I can say or do will make any difference or have any impact on him; to him, I am beneath notice. And I'm not trying to have any impact on him; I just want to post my entries as I see fit. If by some fluke he does visit again, well, "so sei es." Maybe we'll have something to discuss, though I doubt it.
I'm working on a couple of more topical, less burdensome columns, and I hope to get those posted soon. I do appreciate having this venue to vent in, even if no one is really reading!
Yours,
Catbird
I've reposted an entry, below, after pulling it down at the request of the person about whom it is primarily written.
I've made this repost for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it's how I still feel, and it helps me to get my feelings out here.
I was also told by a friend, who has watched me go through the throes of the interaction with the gentleman in question, that I was a wimp to pull the entry because he didn't like it. I was trying to be amenable to him, but she's right. I didn't want to do a tit-for-tat with him, but it's not as if he didn't hurt me terribly, not once but twice.
In addition, I am assuming that he won't bother to look at this blog again after his initial perusal. He told me right out that he didn't bother to remember anything we talked about while we were seeing one another, including telling me about his girlfriend, which he did, twice. He has ceased replying to my emails, so I think I am making a safe assumption. I am also assuming that nothing I can say or do will make any difference or have any impact on him; to him, I am beneath notice. And I'm not trying to have any impact on him; I just want to post my entries as I see fit. If by some fluke he does visit again, well, "so sei es." Maybe we'll have something to discuss, though I doubt it.
I'm working on a couple of more topical, less burdensome columns, and I hope to get those posted soon. I do appreciate having this venue to vent in, even if no one is really reading!
Yours,
Catbird
Friday, November 03, 2006
NADIR
Dear Reader,
I'm at a low point. I wish I could just stop everything. I can't see the point of the exercise anymore.
I don't know what I should do. I'm pretty sure I'll just go to sleep, get up tomorrow, go to work and keep on. But I'm not doing it for me. I'm keeping on so that others won't be sad; my Dad, my sisters, nephew, a few (very few) friends, shrinks. But, frankly, there's nothing in it for me anymore, that I can discern. I don't see a future, or happiness or comfort; just more angst, anxiety, sadness and lonliness.
Solitary life in the Big Apple, I guess.
Catbird
I'm at a low point. I wish I could just stop everything. I can't see the point of the exercise anymore.
I don't know what I should do. I'm pretty sure I'll just go to sleep, get up tomorrow, go to work and keep on. But I'm not doing it for me. I'm keeping on so that others won't be sad; my Dad, my sisters, nephew, a few (very few) friends, shrinks. But, frankly, there's nothing in it for me anymore, that I can discern. I don't see a future, or happiness or comfort; just more angst, anxiety, sadness and lonliness.
Solitary life in the Big Apple, I guess.
Catbird
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