1. Aimless
2. Sad Irish Eyes
3. Man of Many Questions
4. Where You Are
5. Amy
6. Even This
7. Down (You Were)
8. Two by Two
9. (If Your Heart Is) Ready
10. Still Life
11. Come Home
12. Smell the Smoke
14. Walking Allentown
© 2009 Brett Mitchell
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
This victory alone is not the change we seek.
Some months ago, I wrote on this blog of the importance of "...[finding] a leader in whom we believe; a leader to whose cause we would gladly devote ourselves, for his cause is our own; and then to turn that devotion to action." I expressed the hope that, through this year's election, we might propel ourselves into "one of those periods of hope and endeavor which now and again light up the dark passages of history."
Much has already been written about the immediate and historical impact of this election, some authors claiming that a new era of "hope and endeavor" may indeed be upon us. But I have found no words that better articulate this sea change than those of the president-elect himself. What follows is the majoriy of President-elect Barack Obama's address to supporters at a rally in Grant Park in Chicago, after winning the race for the White House this past Tuesday night. Video of the complete speech appears below.
If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.
It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.
It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled -- Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.
It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America...
...above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to -- it belongs to you.
I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington -- it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.
It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.
I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime -- two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.
The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America -- I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you -- we as a people will get there.
There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years -- block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.
What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek -- it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.
So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers -- in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.
Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House -- a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn -- I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.
And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world -- our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down -- we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security -- we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright --tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.
For that is the true genius of America -- that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing -- Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.
She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons -- because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.
And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America -- the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves -- if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?
This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time -- to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth -- that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.
Much has already been written about the immediate and historical impact of this election, some authors claiming that a new era of "hope and endeavor" may indeed be upon us. But I have found no words that better articulate this sea change than those of the president-elect himself. What follows is the majoriy of President-elect Barack Obama's address to supporters at a rally in Grant Park in Chicago, after winning the race for the White House this past Tuesday night. Video of the complete speech appears below.
* * * * * * * * * *
If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.
It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.
It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled -- Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.
It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America...
...above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to -- it belongs to you.
I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington -- it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.
It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.
I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime -- two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.
The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America -- I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you -- we as a people will get there.
There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years -- block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.
What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek -- it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.
So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers -- in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.
Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House -- a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn -- I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.
And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world -- our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down -- we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security -- we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright --tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.
For that is the true genius of America -- that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing -- Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.
She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons -- because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.
And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America -- the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves -- if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?
This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time -- to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth -- that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Tomorrow
As an American citizen, I take little more seriously than my right/privilege/obligation to vote. No matter whom you decide to vote for, I want your voice to be heard, too. Whether you intend to vote for Sen. McCain, Sen. Obama, or one of the third party candidates, please do your homework tonight, then get out there tomorrow and VOTE--you'll feel proud all day. ☺
Friday, October 31, 2008
When October Goes
And when October goes,
The snow begins to fly.
Above the smokey roofs,
I watch the planes go by.
The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky.
Oh, for the fun of them,
When I was one of them.
And when October goes,
The same old dream appears,
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years.
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears.
Oh, how I hate to see October go.
I should be over it now, I know.
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow.
I hate to see October go.
The snow begins to fly.
Above the smokey roofs,
I watch the planes go by.
The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky.
Oh, for the fun of them,
When I was one of them.
And when October goes,
The same old dream appears,
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years.
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears.
Oh, how I hate to see October go.
I should be over it now, I know.
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow.
I hate to see October go.
-Johnny Mercer
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wise words from wise men
"Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. And it will leave you unfulfilled. So don't let people talk you into doing the safe thing. Listen to what's inside of you, and decide what it is that you care about so much that you're willing to risk it all."
"Making your mark on the world is hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. But it's not. It takes patience, it takes commitment, and it comes with plenty of failure along the way. The real test is not whether you avoid this failure, because you won't. It's whether you let it harden or shame you into inaction, or whether you learn from it; whether you choose to persevere."
"The world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease."
"Making your mark on the world is hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. But it's not. It takes patience, it takes commitment, and it comes with plenty of failure along the way. The real test is not whether you avoid this failure, because you won't. It's whether you let it harden or shame you into inaction, or whether you learn from it; whether you choose to persevere."
-Barack Obama
"The world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease."
-Robert F. Kennedy
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Best. Haiku. Ever.
...and if you can get your hands on the Mel Torme recording from December 1954 at the Crescendo Club in Hollywood - boy, you're really in business.
-----------
Falling leaves of sycamore,
Moonlight in Vermont.
Icy finger waves,
Ski trails on a mountainside,
Snowlight in Vermont.
Telegraph cables, they sing down the highway,
And travel each bend in the road.
People who meet in this romantic setting
Are so hypnotized by the lovely
Evening summer breeze,
Warbling of a meadowlark,
Moonlight in Vermont.
You and I and moonlight in Vermont.
-John Blackburn
Saturday, August 16, 2008
My time away
Stillness is our most intense mode of action. It is in our moments of deep quiet that is born every idea, emotion, and drive which we eventually honor with the name of action. Our most emotionally active life is lived in our dreams, and our cells renew themselves most industriously in sleep. We reach highest in meditation, and farthest in prayer. In stillness every human being is great; he is free from the experience of hostility; he is a poet, and most like an angel.
-Leonard Bernstein
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Quiet
I am heading for a time of quiet,
When my restlessness is past,
And I can lie down on my blanket
And release my fists at last.
I am heading for a time of solitude,
Of peace without illusions,
When the perfect circle marries all,
Beginnings and conclusions.
And when they say that you’re not good enough,
Well, the answer is, you’re not.
But who are they, or what is it
That eats at what you’ve got
With the hunger of ambition
For the change inside the purse?
They are handcuffs on the soul, my friends,
Handcuffs on the soul...and worse.
Now I'm heading for a place of quiet,
Where the sage and sweetgrass grow,
By a lake of sacred water
From the mountain’s melted snow.
When my restlessness is past,
And I can lie down on my blanket
And release my fists at last.
I am heading for a time of solitude,
Of peace without illusions,
When the perfect circle marries all,
Beginnings and conclusions.
And when they say that you’re not good enough,
Well, the answer is, you’re not.
But who are they, or what is it
That eats at what you’ve got
With the hunger of ambition
For the change inside the purse?
They are handcuffs on the soul, my friends,
Handcuffs on the soul...and worse.
Now I'm heading for a place of quiet,
Where the sage and sweetgrass grow,
By a lake of sacred water
From the mountain’s melted snow.
-Paul Simon
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
May 2009
I. Time and the Clock
As it passed through the clock.
Chains, clappers and cogs
It made more noise than one hundred
At the village bell
And this pleased my soul.
I prefer time when it shows itself
Rather than passing among us noiselessly
Like a thief in the night.
II. The Mask
In the shape of a mask with eyes closed
Rises slowly and alone
Very high in the sonorous desert.
Up to this green star, to this Visage
Which has remained silent for ten thousand years
I fly with no effort,
I approach with no fear.
I knock with my curled finger
On the hard forehead on the convex eyelids,
The sound terrifies and overwhelms me:
Far away in the limpid night
My eternal soul echoes.
Radiance, darkness, smile, solitude!
I will not go violate the secret
I remain next to the Face
Since I speak and resemble it.
Meanwhile all around the splendor is emptiness,
Brilliant nocturnal crystals of summer.
-Jean Tardieu
III. The Last Poem
I’ve dreamt so strongly of you,
I’ve walked so much, talked so much,
So loved your shadow,
That I’ve nothing left of you,
I’m left to be the shadow among shadows
To be one hundred times more shadow than the shadow
To be the shadow that will appear and reappear
In your sun-filled life.
-Robert Desnos
All that plus Berlioz's Romeo and Ravel's complete Mother Goose? Come on!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Tonight
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
-Wallace Stevens
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Counselor
While the vast majority of this blog has been devoted to sharing items I believe to be of some artistic import or interest, this entry will be different. I have just finished Ted Sorensen's new book, "Counselor: A Life at the Edge of History", and want to share some impressions and reflections.
Ted Sorensen was one of Representative, then Senator, then President John F. Kennedy's closest advisors. While in the Oval Office, Kennedy had no chief of staff as most modern presidents do; rather, he relied on a small circle of advisors, chief among them his brother, Attorney General Robert F. Kenendy, and Sorensen, who held the title of Special Counsel to the President. As such, Sorensen wore many hats in his service to JFK, though he is perhaps best remembered as the principal architect of JFK's message. He is the crafter of such immortal speeches as JFK's inaugural address in January 1961 and the grammatically dubious (though no less inspiring for it) "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech of June 1963. Before JFK's move from the Senate to the White House, Sorensen, at the age of 27, helped Kennedy research and write his Pulitzer Prize-winning book, "Profiles in Courage". Once in the White House, Sorensen's authoring responsibilities extended into the field of international diplomacy: he was the primary author of the letter to Soviet Premier Nikita Kruschev that helped to end the Cuban Missile Crisis during the fall of 1962.
Sorensen was thus involved in almost every critical, world-changing event that happened between January 20, 1961 and November 22, 1963 (though he did continue on in the service of President Johnson for three months after that dark day in Dallas). After that tragic event in Dealey Plaza ("the most deeply traumatic experience of my life"), he wrote one of the great biographies of our 35th president, entitled simply "Kennedy". He later served as a chief advisor to Bobby Kennedy during his own all-to-brief presidential campaign of 1968, before his light, too, was extinguished prematurely, not five years after his beloved brother Jack.
At the age of 80, Sorensen is the last survivor among that close-knit inner circle (other than Senator Edward M. Kennedy, whom Sorensen lovingly calls "Senator Ted"), and this book brims with insights and information that quite literally would have been lost to history had Sorensen not written it now.
Make no mistake: this is no sycophantic rambling in blind devotion to JFK. Acknowledgements of failures are frank and thorough when failures occurred, especially regarding the fiasco of 1961's failed Bay of Pigs invasion. The book's praises of Kennedy are therefore all the more credible considering the forthrightness with which Sorensen deals with his failures, both political and personal.
This 531-page volume seems perhaps an unlikely choice for summer reading for a professional conductor, but there is no other way I'd rather have spent my leisure time over the past week. Those who know me know my love for history, knowledge in general, and politics (not the "game" as such, but the possibilities and potential our elected leaders hold). More broadly, I view what I do as (hopefully) some small contribution to society, and this--on a much larger, more significant scale (though not necessarily more "meaningful")--is precisely what both JFK and Sorensen did. I find it both educational and exhilarating, informative and inspiring to read firsthand accounts of not only these people and these events in American history, but of the time in general, its zeitgeist, and Sorensen's impact upon and reactions to it.
During this, a presidential election year, we owe it to ourselves, our fellow countrymen, and--on this ever-shrinking planet--our neighbors throughout the world to thoroughly, seriously reflect on what kind of man (as we now know it will be) we would have succeed our current president little more than six months from now. Looking to history, we ask: Which presidents have succeeded? Which have failed? Which have inspired us to greatness? Which have not? Why?
I have no desire to preach politics, nor any wish to draw partisan lines, as Mr. Sorensen understandably does in his book--whether I or any other reader agree with his politics is immaterial to its potential impact upon us. The impact of Mr. Sorensen's book, I believe, lies in inspiring each of us to find a leader in whom we believe; a leader to whose cause we would gladly devote ourselves, for his cause is our own; and then to turn that devotion to action--perhaps by simply contributing time or money; perhaps by realizing that we owe it to each other to become better informed, more educated citizens of our country and our planet; perhaps by simply posting a blog or talking to friends and family about issues we feel important; perhaps by realizing that it is both our solemn duty and extreme privilege to cast a sincere, well-informed vote.
Our vote is one of the greatest contributions we can make to our country. Sorensen devoted his entire life to America, initially in the service of a great man, then continuing in the service of that man's great vision, ideals, and legacy. There is simply no higher calling than to contribute to one's society, and Sorensen contributed like few of us will ever have the opportunity. But each of us has the opportunity to lend our vote and therefore our voice to this country and its direction.
On that cold morning in January 1961, on the East Portico of the U.S. Capitol, newly sworn-in President Kennedy, in a speech crafted as always with the aid of Ted Sorensen, exhorted all Americans to "Ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country." Had Mr. Sorensen not written this book, our country would be worse off for his silence; had Mr. Sorensen not served Mr. Kennedy, our country would be worse off for his absence. This book is his magnum opus and likely the final work of his incredible life. Through it, Mr. Sorensen has both completed his service to President Kennedy and done for his country what no other could: shone a light on the inner workings of "one of those periods of hope and endeavor which now and again light up the dark passages of history." I can only hope that our generation's own New Frontier is close at hand.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
What today meant to me
This is the story of how we begin to remember.
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein.
After the dream of falling and calling your name out,
These are the roots of rhythm, and the roots of rhythm remain.
-Paul Simon
Monday, July 7, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Chemistry
Love and commitment--to anything or anybody, craft or person--are simply not enough. It takes something more, something elusive, something intangible to create chemistry. This is what it looks like to me:
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I'll never, ever be able to say it better than this
Here is my song for the asking.
Ask me, and I will play so sweetly, I'll make you smile.
This is my tune for the taking.
Take it, don't turn away - I've been waiting all my life.
Thinking it over, I've been sad,
Thinking it over, I'd be more than glad
To change my ways for the asking.
Ask me, and I will play all the love that I hold inside.
Ask me, and I will play so sweetly, I'll make you smile.
This is my tune for the taking.
Take it, don't turn away - I've been waiting all my life.
Thinking it over, I've been sad,
Thinking it over, I'd be more than glad
To change my ways for the asking.
Ask me, and I will play all the love that I hold inside.
-Paul Simon
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Craft meets heart
When one gains complete control over one's craft, it's the heart that comes through. While I keep working on it, witness the great Ellen Burstyn.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
How one Sunday became heaven and D Major all at once
My hands are two travelers, they've crossed oceans and lands,
Yet they are too small on the continent of your skin.
Wandering, wandering, I could spend my life
Traveling the length of your body each night.
Oh, oh, Jupiter.
Oh, oh, be still, my little heart.
Oh, oh, love is a flame, neither timid nor tame.
Take these stars from my crown.
Let the years fall down.
Lay me out in firelight.
Let my skin feel the night.
Fasten me to your side,
And say it will be soon.
You make me so crazy, baby,
Could swallow the moon.
Yet they are too small on the continent of your skin.
Wandering, wandering, I could spend my life
Traveling the length of your body each night.
Oh, oh, Jupiter.
Oh, oh, be still, my little heart.
Oh, oh, love is a flame, neither timid nor tame.
Take these stars from my crown.
Let the years fall down.
Lay me out in firelight.
Let my skin feel the night.
Fasten me to your side,
And say it will be soon.
You make me so crazy, baby,
Could swallow the moon.
-Jewel Kilcher
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Where I go post-concert
may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young
and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young
and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile
-E. E. Cummings
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Coast
We are standing in the early morning sunlight
In the harbor church of Saint Cecilia
To praise a soul's returning to the earth,
To the Rose of Jericho and the Bougainvillea.
This is a lonely life.
Sorrows everywhere you turn.
And that's worth something when you think about it.
That's worth some money.
To prove that I love you,
Because I believe in you,
Summer skies, stars are falling all along the injured coast.
If I have weaknesses,
Don't let them blind me now,
Summer skies, stars are falling all along the injured coast.
Leaving the shadow
Of the valley behind me now
All along the injured coast.
This is the only life.
In the harbor church of Saint Cecilia
To praise a soul's returning to the earth,
To the Rose of Jericho and the Bougainvillea.
This is a lonely life.
Sorrows everywhere you turn.
And that's worth something when you think about it.
That's worth some money.
To prove that I love you,
Because I believe in you,
Summer skies, stars are falling all along the injured coast.
If I have weaknesses,
Don't let them blind me now,
Summer skies, stars are falling all along the injured coast.
Leaving the shadow
Of the valley behind me now
All along the injured coast.
This is the only life.
-Paul Simon
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Let It Be or: How I Learned to Stop Watching, Start Feeling, and Love This Film
The brilliance of Julie Taymor...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
A Quiet Place
What do we need to make us friends again?
We're not so very far apart.
What makes this emptiness?
Tell me when these silences began.
Long ago, you were all strength and life and joy to me.
All magic. All music. All of life to me.
You were my charm and all delight to me;
My heart and mind; you were my love, the sun at night to me.
And what has happened to dull the mystery?
And where is our garden with a quiet place?
Why can't we try to find the way again to peace and life?
Can't we find the way back to the garden where we began?
-Leonard Bernstein, "Trouble in Tahiti"
What C major sounds like today
Good days, bad days, I've had a few of those.
Same old story - I know how this song goes.
At least I did, but now I'm not so sure.
Nothing's in its place; nothing's certain anymore.
Birds fly, trees sway - why can't I be like that?
Happy knowing what I am, in fact, and leaving be?
But truth has been obscured.
I am only human, and I'm always wanting more.
And the world is a place, and I pray it's on my side,
But I'd find greater comfort if I just lay down and died.
I don't know what's become of the boy who once knew sunshine.
What's become of the boy who knew sorrow but was strong?
Same old story - I know how this song goes.
At least I did, but now I'm not so sure.
Nothing's in its place; nothing's certain anymore.
Birds fly, trees sway - why can't I be like that?
Happy knowing what I am, in fact, and leaving be?
But truth has been obscured.
I am only human, and I'm always wanting more.
And the world is a place, and I pray it's on my side,
But I'd find greater comfort if I just lay down and died.
I don't know what's become of the boy who once knew sunshine.
What's become of the boy who knew sorrow but was strong?
-Nerina Pallot, "Mr King"
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Why I do what I do
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Not for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Not for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
-Dylan Thomas
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Books I love and why I love them
What does it say that I am a full-time, professional musician, and my first blog entry regards (what I consider) great works of fiction I've read over the past nine months? Literary fiend that I am, here are some of those books - in no particular order - about which I feel strongly enough to recommend. I'll get to music eventually, I promise...
"What is the What" by Dave Eggers - life-changing; you must read this book
"The Road" by Cormac McCarthy - the most beautiful poetry-cum-prose to heartbreaking end I've ever read
"What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" by Raymond Carver - darker, more abstract, and better than I thought
"The Crying of Lot 49" by Thomas Pynchon - prosaic virtuosity
"A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole - bombastysterical!
"The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss - inventive, intricate, intimate
"A Death in the Family" by James Agee - hauntingly nostalgic
"Seven Types of Ambiguity" by Elliot Perlman - enormous, but worth sticking with
"Deception" by Philip Roth - is this fiction the characters have created for themselves based on fact?
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