May 2009

I. Time and the Clock

The other day I was listening to time
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

A heavy object of hollow bronze
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!

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.

-Wallace Stevens

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.

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

Special J and a Nikon say it all

Music by JCM - Images by BWM