Soon I embark on my annual escape from Joklahoma’s miserable July weather. This trip will be similar to the one I took last year, with me heading out west to visit Santa Fe, New Mexico as well as Pagosa Springs and Durango, Colorado. However, this time I am sticking to I-40 for the trip out and back, avoiding the slower (and, thanks to feedlots, smellier) northern route through Dodge City.
July Jinks 2011
Unfortunately, much of the hiking I had planned has been cancelled because the area forests have Stage III fire closures. I had originally planned to hike in the forest east of Santa Fe and then spend several days in Los Alamos to hike in Bandelier National Monument. But on June 26 a tree fell on a power line and ignited the massive Las Conchas fire. It has spread to 150,000 acres and is still not contained. Los Alamos was saved, but Bandelier is closed indefinitely as is the Santa Fe forest both east and west of town and the Carson Forest to the north. Sandia Peak an hour southwest at Albuquerque is also now closed to hiking.
So I’ll have to content myself with Santa Fe museums and the Plaza one day, and will hike the loop trail at the Audobon Center and Nambé Falls, which are still open. Then I’ll head north toward Pagosa Springs, stopping to hike at Ghost Ranch if any of its trails remain outside Carson Forest and thus still open.
I then head north to Pagosa Springs. Thankfully the San Juan Forest is still open with only Stage I fire restrictions, versus the Stage III closures in New Mexico. So I can hopefully get in a couple of days of hiking in that area. Last year I stayed on the east side of town. This year I’ve booked a room west of town at a hotel which should have better WiFi for uploading my pictures and blog posts.
Although the New Mexico forests are closed, they are still allowing the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad to operate between Chama, New Mexico and Antonito, Colorado. So I’ll ride the train from Chama to Antonito and then ride a bus for the return trip. The rails are another section of the same narrow-gauge line serving the famous Durango & Silverton train which I rode in 1991 and 2010.
Then I head west to Durango, where I’ll see a road production of Greater Tuna and probably spend a day taking the San Juan Skyway Scenic Drive. I may hike at Purgatory as well. The trip will then end when I drop down to Albuquerque to tour a bit before the long drive east back to Oklahoma.
Despite the forest closures, it should be a good trip; projected highs will be in the mid-80s compared to the continuing string of 100s in Oklahoma. And I’ll be getting away from town where I’ve spent many days on school activities, including some committee meetings, filling an open science position at our school, organizing the work of seven district teachers who are writing science curricula, and bargaining a new contract for Bartlesville’s teachers.
Before The Star Spangled Banner was declared the national anthem by Congress and Hoover in 1931, the country used Hail Columbia, which was composed in 1789 for George Washington’s inauguration. It is now used to announce the Vice-President. And it’s pretty terrible.
When I was a kid in grade school we always sang the alternate version of the British national anthem, God Save the Queen, which we learned as My Country, ‘Tis of Thee. That’s a much better song, but we can’t use the same song as the British, now, can we?
I do love that back in 1939 Marian Anderson, who had been denied permission to perform at Constitution Hall by the Daughters of the American Revolution because of her color, was invited by Harold Ickes, at the urging of Eleanor Roosevelt, to perform it at the Lincoln Memorial.
Yankee Doodle Dandy also comes to mind, but let’s get serious. Recognizing its emblematic status, in 1931 Congress and President Hoover declared The Star Spangled Banner as our national anthem. And regretfully it is a terribly difficult song to sing well. It is based on an old British drinking song and most of us probably have to be inebriated to think we can carry it off.
Joseph Byrd argues, “It actually makes a very good drinking song, with its dramatic caesura followed by the tipsy high tenor note on the last phrase. The middle part, which strains the vocal range of ordinary mortals, was intended to be amusing. Where we sing ‘And the rockets’ red glare,’ the original song had the Athenian poet Anacreon calling down from heaven in an effete falsetto, ‘Voice, fiddle, and flute, no longer be mute, I’ll lend ye my name, and inspire ye, t’boot!'”
We’re so put off by the difficulty in singing our anthem that too often we stand silently and allow those with greater vocal talents to attempt it on our behalf. I’d frankly prefer that we just butcher it in unison and not treat its performance like a talent show!
Many have suggested alternate songs for our anthem, such as Irving Berlin’s God Bless America.
Others suggest America The Beautifulwhich, like The Star Spangled Banner, started out as a poem. Katharine Lee Bates had been inspired by Pikes Peak and Samuel A. Ward’s hymn, Materna, was fitted to the words later on. Many like Ray Charles’ take on it.
And then there’s the Black National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing, which also started out as a poem back in 1900 and, like We Shall Overcome, was literally an instrumental part of the civil rights movement.
I’d suggest This Land Is Your Landfor our anthem, but I realize it isn’t regal enough, and some folks would no doubt object to Woody Guthrie’s politics.
In the end, we all recognize our nation’s anthem as The Star Spangled Banner. At least the Mormon Tabernacle Choir can do it justice.
That’s only the first and fourth verses. In fairness I should offer up a defense of our anthem, so here’s famed writer Isaac Asimov, and a review of ALL of its verses:
In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.
At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack. The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England. The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west. The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.
The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, D. C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.
On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release. The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.
As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell. Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.
As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, “Can you see the flag?”
After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called “The Defence of Fort M’Henry,” it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven” –a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key’s work became known as “The Star Spangled Banner,” and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.
Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key:
Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.
Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
“Ramparts,” in case you don’t know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer:
On the shore, dimly seen thro’ the mist of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep.
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream
‘Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
“The towering steep” is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure.
In the third stanza, I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise.
During World War II, when the British were our staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is:
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling:
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation,
Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the Heav’n – rescued land
Praise the Pow’r that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto–“In God is our trust.”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears.
Yesterday I finally discovered the songs of Michael Bublé. Of course once you finally notice some outstanding performer you’ve previously been ignorant of, you immediately start to notice him or her everywhere. Yesterday and today I listened to a bunch of his song samples on iTunes, cherrypicked my favorites for purchase, and set up a playlist for a drive to Tulsa. After lunch there I was browsing at a bookstore and promptly ran across an unkind photo of him in a gossip rag – they’re just jealous of his marvelous voice, I suppose.
You can hear my Bublé playlist via YouTube; below are details and links for each of my 11 selections, including other famous versions of the songs.
Save the Last Dance for Me
1. Save the Last Dance for Me
This is the song which introduced me to Michael’s music, overheard as I strolled down the toothpaste aisle. It was composed by Doc Pumus and Mort Shuman and was a #1 hit in 1960 for The Drifters. I own the version by The Drifters but am most fond of the sadder version by Emmylou Harris, a top ten Country hit for her in 1979.
Michael is joined by Sharon Jones and Dap-Kings on this 1960 song composed by Clyde Otis, Murray Stein, and Brook Benton. Dinah Washington and Brook Benton had a top-five hit with it.
This 1963 number has great credentials with music by Henry Mancini, Italian lyrics by Franco Migliacci, and English lyrics by Johnny Mercer. It appeared in the original Pink Panther film, performed by Fran Jeffries. Michael performs an adaptation of an arrangement of it for Lena Horne. “Meglio stasera” translates as “Better tonight” and “Fa’ subito” as “Do it right away” – the urgent message is basically, “Let’s make love tonight, because who knows what will happen tomorrow.”
I’ve loved this song since I first hear Anita Kelsey overdub Jennifer Connelly’s performance of it in the theatrical release of Dark City. It was composed in 1953 as ¿Quién será? by Mexican composer and bandleader Pablo Beltrán Ruiz and the best known version was in 1954 by Dean Martin.
This was a number composed by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse for the 1965 musical The Roar of the Greasepaint – The Smell of the Crowd with Cy Grant singing. My favorite version is by Nina Simone, but Michael does a fine job.
I’m no dancer, my attempts consisting primarily of shifting my weight from foot to foot as I wriggle my hips and shoulders, accompanied by flailing forearms. The first time I recall dancing in public, if we discount my escapades as a toddler, was to gyrate to Devo’s Whip It at the Mayfield Junior High 9th Grade Banquet. That prompted legislation restricting me to the occasional bout of spelling out YMCA, in the style invented on American Bandstand, when chaperoning the prom.
But faithful readers know that despite my personal awkwardness I do admire splendid dance numbers, from Stormy Weather to Mary Poppins. Today I was shopping at Walgreens and found myself having to resist tapping my toes, snapping my fingers, and twirling to, of all things, Save the Last Dance for Me.
Counterintuitively, while I love the lyrics, I’ve never thought of that song as much of a dance number. Although I purchased the classic 1960 version by The Drifters as part of my audio collection years ago, it doesn’t get my body moving beyond a side shuffle and head bob. And my favorite version of the song is the somber 1979 one by Emmylou Harris, which seems only suitable for a slow dance.
But today along the toothpaste aisle in Walgreens I heard a take on the song I’d never heard before, which my iPhone’s SoundHound app told me was released by Michael Bublé in 2005. I promptly bought the song, added it to my playlist, and in composing this post foundthe wonderfully cute video.
Raymondo Chan
Isn’t the dance instructor Raymondo Chan wonderful in that video? As an Asian Canadian who teaches salsa dancing, he’s just as much of a remix as Bublé’s cover of the song!
I recently decided to burden my Kindle with some “fine literature.” A perusal of the Modern Library’s list of 100 best novels showed I had only read a paltry 10% of the board’s list, which I find sadly biased against genre fiction, and only 17% of the reader’s list. So I looked over the top entries on the board’s list and decided to take on #4: Lolita and #11: Under the Volcano.
I selected Lolitaby Vladimir Nabokov, despite my doubts about its prurience, for several reasons. First, my admiration of Stanley Kubrick’s other films led me many years ago to rent his 1962 cinematic version and I found it, like most of Kubrick’s films, a memorable if unsettling experience. Also, I had noted the furor when Nabokov’s unfinished The Original of Laura was finally released in 2008, reflecting his unorthodox manner of writing novels via index cards. Finally, I had recently read about synesthesia and the article had noted how Nabokov made use of that unusual neurological condition, perceiving certain letters and numbers as colors, in his work.
Reviews had noted that Lolita is full of wordplay, and I was again reminded of the inadequacy of the Kindle’s built-in dictionary, which often as not had no entry for obscure English terms the protagonist, Humbert Humbert, uses in his first-person narrative. I could readily infer most unfamiliar terms from context, but the frequent use of French had me typing define: recueillement into Google and “Prenez donc une de ces poires. La bonne dame d’en face m’en offre plus que je n’en peux savourer.” and the like into Google Translate.
I can see why many critics would love the book, for it is full of symbolism, literary jokes and allusions, and has an entertaining devilish streak. And despite its negative portrayal of pedophilia, there is little surprise that it has been challenged by censors over the years. Thankfully Lolita isn’t terribly long and has a strong narrative drive, unlike some other lauded works such as Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow and Wallace’s Infinite Jest, both of which I started and gave up on after several turgid chapters: too obscure, too many footnotes, too many more pages to go without much hope for lyrical relief. And while I have a deep regard and affection for Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age: A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primerand have enjoyed most of his output, including his most recent Anathem, I waded only partway into the first of eight books in the three volumes of his Baroque Cycle of books before giving up in exasperation at how slowly the plot developed.
My reading of Lolita was enhanced by, of all things, SparkNotes. At the end of each chapter I would stop to read the SparkNotes summary and discussion and, although it and the movie spoiled the mystery of Humbert’s rival, it pointed out some symbols and wordplay which had eluded my initial perusal. I never used Cliff Notes or SparkNotes to cheat in school, but I did find them helpful when I took on The Sound and the Fury one summer and they again served me well.
Under the Volcano
After the rich read of Lolita I was suffering from eyeburn. So I followed it up with a non-fiction polemic written by a journalist in straightforward prose. That left me refreshed and ready to go Under the Volcano with Malcolm Lowry. Again I was a bit dubious about the subject matter. The story centers on an alcoholic Englishman living in Mexico on the Day of the Dead in the late 1930s, and I am effectively a teetotaler. But I love the work of F. Scott Fitzgerald, who produced much more than Lowry but also drank himself to death, so I forged ahead.
Oh my. These pages were rough. There is much to love about this book, but it is slam-bam full of obscure literary and cultural references. I knew I was missing some of the jokes and allusions in Lolita, but I could sail merrily along without worrying about it too much. Under the Volcano begged explanation, and not merely for the many Spanish phrases. Sadly, there was no brief SparkNotes entry I could consult. I did find an immense site on the book, but its deluge of detail threatened to swamp me. I finally found a rhythm where I would read the book and only stop to consult the hypertext site for lengthy Spanish quotations or when context and guesswork still left a paragraph indecipherable.
The ending is horrific, but powerful. I shall always remember it, just as I can always visualize Scottie standing at the edge of the bell tower at the end of Hitchcock’s Vertigo, leaving me to wonder whether or not he will do what the movie’s logic makes all too plausible and even forgivable: take one more step into the void.
The ending of Vertigo, giving a different meaning to "one small step"
But Under the Volcano is more than a tragedy, being quite lyrical and beautiful at times describing how “the sun poured molten glass on the fields” or a “savage scribble of lightning” – such lines might adorn one of Ray Bradbury’s lovely short stories. Yet consider this heartbreaking letter, written by an adulterous woman still drawn to her alcoholic ex-husband:
Surely you must have thought a great deal of us, of what we built together, of how mindlessly we destroyed the structure and the beauty but yet could not destroy the memory of that beauty. It has been this which has haunted me day and night. Turning I see us in a hundred places with a hundred smiles. I come into a street, and you are there. I creep at night to bed and you are waiting for me. What is there in life besides the person whom one adores and the life one can build with that person? For the first time I understand the meaning of suicide … God, how pointless and empty the world is! Days filled with cheap and tarnished moments succeed each other, restless and haunted nights follow in bitter routine: the sun shines without brightness, and the moon rises without light. My heart has the taste of ashes, and my throat is tight and weary with weeping. What is a lost soul? It is one that has turned from its true path and is groping in the darkness of remembered ways—
How alarming, given how much of the book is autobiographical, and how unsurprising that Lowry would kill himself with an overdose of sleeping pills in a “death by misadventure” a decade after Under the Volcano was published. The line Lowry lifted for the book is a haunting admonition: No se puede vivir sin amar. One cannot live without loving.
Meador Manor 