Playing Favorites 8/26/2022

I’ve missed posting Playing Favorites for a few Fridays in a row now. Given how rarely I post these days, it is hard to believe that I posted every day for two years, 2011 and 2012.  Oh, to be sort-of-young again.  But here I am, ready to post another Favorite. I decided I’d post something a little more eclectic than the rock and pop I usually post. According to Wikipedia, Amici Forever is a quintet of classically trained musicians, comprised of sopranos Jo Appleby and Tsakane Valentine, tenors David Habbin and Geoff Swell, and basso Nick Garrett.  Nick Patrick, who had produced albums by the Gipsy Kings, Tina Turner and Marvin Gaye produced the band’s first album The Opera Band. The album mixes opera classics such as “Nessun Dorma” with pop standards such as “Unchained Melody” and “Requiem for a Soldier”. It charted at number one in New Zealand and number two in Australia in 2004 but hardly made a ripple in the US. It did, however, it did make its way to Borders (a place I still miss) where I listened to it on one of their listening stations. I bought it immediately. 

Oh My, Omicron

Is anyone else tired of reading about Covid-19 and its variants?   How about reading different and conflicting accounts of how dangerous the new and improved (from the virus’ point of view) omicron variant will turn out to be?  After all, in South Africa, the onslaught seems to have petered out but reliable sources tell me that won’t necessarily be the case here.  So, here I am again, trying to decide whether I should attend activities in our over 55 community or be one of the small percentage of (mostly) seniors wearing masks in the market.  With two vaccinations and a booster for both my wife and I, life seemed to be returning to a semblance of normalcy and, sure, I’m glad to hear that this provides some protection against omicron … but how much some is enough?  Sometimes, I wish I was brain-dead enough to follow the Q-Anons down the conspiracy theory rat hole and dismiss the entire thing as a hoax.  But seventy-seven years have left my brain still functioning, at least enough to dismiss idiotic theories.

Tapestry

As I get older (and older!), I find myself more philosophical, thinking about the nature of things and what, if anything, it all means.  Friends who seem to have found faith, or at least a view of life that works for them, say I am an over-thinker.  I plead guilty.  I am a very lucky man, happily married for over 50 years, living in a beautiful community in Utah, financially secure and ten minutes from my grandkids.  But at seventy-seven, it is impossible to ignore the fact that there are substantially fewer years ahead than behind.  Friends suffer senior maladies and sometimes leave this life.   My maladies are relatively minor but bothersome and its easy to imagine that my latest ache or pain will usher in my turn for something serious.   Friends tell me God’s in Charge.  I believe that … but why does God make life so difficult sometimes and require that we say good bye to those that we love?    Other friends say Nothing is Good or Bad.  It is what we think about it that makes it seem good or bad, a notion borrowed from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Sorry.  I can’t buy that losing a friend … or contracting a nasty illness … is neutral, nor is it Good Appearing Bad.

Sick and Tired

I’ve had it. I’m sick and Tired. Of reading about COVID-19. Of reading about the election. Of seeing statements in the news that anyone with an ounce (a gram!) of critical thinking would know is a falsehood. I am tired of getting twice-daily solicitations from politicians even though I’ve already given more than I ever have before. By the way, I am tired of getting thank you notes for charitable contributions that include a request (and envelope) for another. I am tired of the news and knowing exactly what position each source will take on any given issue. I am tired of opinion masquerading as news and of people dismissing what they don’t want to hear as Fake News.   I am tired of listening to people’s opinions on subjects that require expertise they don’t have. I am tired of polarized opinions, even mine. I am tired of politicians. CEOs. So-called reporters. I am tired of Facebook and disgusted that the ultimate dumb idea, Twitter, is so influential in our society.

Memorial Day 2020

This is has become my traditional Memorial Day Post.  I think it captures the spirit intended for the holiday.

I have traveled the political spectrum from fairly far left to fairly far right and back toward the middle in my seventy-six years.   But as I traveled that broad spectrum, I think I’ve always been a patriot in the sense that I love my country dearly and believe for any faults it may have, it is unique in the world.   When I was protesting the war and voting for George McGovern, I believed My Country Right or Wrong, but not America – Love It or Leave It or America, Fix It or &%$* It.  Every Memorial Day, I get to think back on my decision to seek a deferment from the draft based upon my employment in the defense industry, a decision that might lead some to question my claim of patriotism.   I won’t deny that my motivation wasn’t entirely selfless but I’d offer that some of the systems I helped develop for keeping track of Soviet submarines during the dark days of the Cold War contributed substantially to our National Defense.  Just watch The Hunt for Red October.  Still, sometimes I feel a little guilt that others served in my place.   At seventy-six, I simultaneously abhor the realities of war (brought to us in gruesome detail by modern media) and resign myself to its necessity in what is, more than ever, a dangerous world.   Some of our military excursions have been essential, others have turned out to be unwise.  Both fall at the feet of our leaders, those of us that elect them and, sadly, those that don’t bother to vote.

Seventy-6

Today, I turn 76 years old, passing the quarter century mark. When people find out my age they are usually say, I’d never have guessed you’re that old. Talk about a double-edged compliment. The surprise likely owes to the fact that I was blessed with wrinkle resistant skin, at least in the places that show, and I regularly shave of any trace of white hair off my head and face. I remain passionate about life, which always makes a person seem younger and I move around pretty well in spite of a mix of aches kept in check by exercise, stretches and a few over-the counter medications. Perhaps the biggest difference between 66 and 76 is that staying active and passionate takes more effort than it used to.

Bittersweet

A few evenings ago, I was getting my steps in at the park, listening to The Best of James Taylor on my bluetooth ear buds. Twilight is my favorite time of day and I found myself in the best mood I’d been in for weeks … until I sat down to rest and found myself crying. For some months now, that’s how it’s been. Life has been Bittersweet, that odd mix of joy and sorrow that manages to feel good and bad at the same time. Now I have some friends that tell me nothing is innately good or bad, that it’s my thinking that makes them positive or negative. Sorry friends … I don’t buy it. If something feels bad, it’s bad.

Starting the Day (Slowly)

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I was a morning person. I suppose that was because I (thought) I knew who I was, where I was going and what I wanted from life. And I will admit that is partially because I have been a fortunate man. Although my life hadn’t been trouble free, the good had outweighed the bad by a considerable margin. Being young, I thought my good fortune was entirely self-made. Morning consisted of waking up, getting ready for work (or play on weekends) then diving right in. Yes, there were good days and bad days but it was a formula that seemed to work for Younger Eyes.

Fire

Monday morning at 10:00, my wife, Muri, and I set out to deliver Meals on Wheels, our monthly service date. As we left our neighborhood, strong Santa Ana winds were blowing in from the East, filling that air with ash from the recent Canyon Fire.  The fire watch truck was parked at the top of Weir Canyon Road, as it usually is when fire danger is high but we saw no sign of smoke. By 10:30, we had loaded our cooler of meals into the car and were on our way to our first client.  Now, a large smoke plume was rising above Anaheim Hills, so we turned on the radio.  A fast moving fire has broken out near the site of last month’s Canyon Fire.  Evacuation of Anaheim Hills is imminent.   We

Last Flight Home

Today I am flying home from a business trip to Huntsville, Alabama. Only Monday, I posted Nothing To Do But Write from the DFW airport, complaining about business travel, particularly by air.    The business went well, in spite of missed or late flights, missing visit requests, and endless meetings. We were up early to catch a flight to Dallas today on a regional jet, meaning a plane with even smaller seats than usual. I’m tired, my back is sore, and now I’m crammed into the exit row with two other broad shouldered guys.  There’s not room for the three of us to sit back, a situation in which the passenger on the aisle usually loses. That would be Older Eyes, leaning into the aisle.