Tag: Culture

FAREWELL AND BEST WISHES TO GEORGE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

For the past four years I’ve been a member of the bass section of a remarkable community chorus in Greater Boston. We rehearse weekly through much of the year and find ourselves performing in public when occasions present. Most recently, it was as part of a summer solstice event hosted by the Harvard University museums of science and culture.

Known as the Revels Singers, we’re under the umbrella of the Boston Revels organization, which is best known for its annual Christmas productions at Harvard’s Sanders Theater.

George Emlen, the Revels music director for the past 32 years, founded the community chorus four years ago as a way to keep much of the Revels’ repertoire and spirit more active and visible throughout the year, augmenting the pub sings, concerts (spring and fall equinox and summer solstice are duly observed), educational outreach programs, harbor cruises, and the like.

And now he’s retired. How do you replace a skilled and enthusiastic conductor, one who reaches out to know his performers and their families as well? How do you replace an insightful composer and arranger or a collaborator on creating a new show every year for Christmas? (The last one was set in Wales. The next has a Cajun-Acadian base.)

It’s been an emotional year for us. At the final show of the Wales production, George was given a curtain-call, something the directors never do, preferring the applause be for the cast of singers, actors, and dancers ranging from very young to, well, admittedly old. The well-earned roar that greeted George matched what James Levine might hear at the Metropolitan Opera at the conclusion of a Ring Cycle. It was amazing. He’s touched a lot of people over the years.

For me, every rehearsal has brought new perspectives on music and music-making, from his improvised warm-ups (they’re never the same, and I wouldn’t want to sing without them beforehand) to the discoveries and interplay we share in pieces that range from the 12th century to the present, spanning more than two dozen languages and both classical and folk disciplines. How does a conductor remain patient while incrementally yet continually raising the level, anyway? We were good to begin with, but now? It’s a much higher standard than we would have had any right to imagine.

One eye-opener for us was the opportunity to audition the four finalists from the applicants to succeed him. Each was assigned three pieces to introduce to us in an hour-long rehearsal – one from the Renaissance or earlier, one from the American shape-note tradition, and one from world folk. As we found, each conductor was quite different, having something unique to bring to us. We could also sense how the fit might or might not work, which in itself was a revelation.

What I can say is that we’re excited to know that what George has established will continue and grow. We’ve had an opportunity to rehearse a full session with our new music director, Megan Henderson, and it feels like a match made in heaven. But then, as she says, we all share one thing in common: we all love George. She understands what she’s inheriting.

He plans to focus on composing, but I can’t imagine he won’t be in demand for guest conducting or teaching or travel in the arts. We all wish him and Jan all the best.

~*~

To view a video tribute to George by Michael Kolowich, including an interview and footage of productions George conducted, go to Revels.org.

AS FOR THAT SECOND AMENDMENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

For those who claim to be defenders of the Second Amendment, let’s insist they embrace the entire provision, the part that mentions a well-regulated militia.

There’s nothing well-regulated in what we’re seeing in the cancer of mass murders resulting from assault rifles. A particular model, at that.

Note, please, that regulated means regulations, first, and their efficient enforcement, second. The Congress that adopted this amendment knew what it was doing, unlike more recent politicians beholden to the gun lobby. As the amendment insists, it’s the militia that shall not be infringed. The well-regulated militia.

By the way, having lived in rural areas, I’ve come to appreciate the place of hunting and knowledgeable hunters in the wild. Some are deeply devoted naturalists, aware and alert in the nuances of their surroundings. Natives have much to teach about the rhythms of their game. I’ve seen how a local hunting and fishing club regulated much of a rural county, keeping irresponsible “sportsmen” away. In Washington state, the return and proliferation of elk can be credited to concerned hunters in conservationist organizations. There’s a role for that culture – one, we should note, that accepts legal limits on its activity.

~*~

These days, I’m thinking more and more about the militia part of the Second Amendment. What if we required all gun owners to be a member of one? Perhaps it would be like the Army Reserve, where each member would have to take so much training each year and put in community service time. Training? First-aid and CPR are always good for the public. We’re far more likely to need those than a gun, anyway. I see this as a kind of auxiliary for public service. Why not?

No exceptions for people who claim to be too busy, either. Someone like Donald Trump would have to put in hands-on time. Public service, indeed.

RANTERS, THEN AND NOW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

One of the most remarkable periods in world history came in mid-1600s Britain, an outbreak that included the execution of the monarch by commoners (rather than a rival for the throne) amid a host of social, economic, and political upheaval. For an overview of the ferment, you can read Christopher Hill’s The World Turned Upside Down or Antonia Fraser’s Cromwell, Our Chief Among Men.

My primary interest, of course, focuses on the rise of the Quaker movement out of the waves of conflict – with the rise of a two-party political system and a loyal opposition as a byproduct of a pacifist faith. I also see parallels with much of the counterculture experience I’ve known from the hippie era on, where some have remained faithful but many others have flaked away.

The waves of English radicals can be fascinating, from the New Model Army and Levelers, Diggers, and True Levelers on through the Muggletonians, Fifth Monarchists, and others, but for Quakers, the Ranters presented a special cross to bear.

Like Quakers, the Ranters espoused personal experience of ecstatic faith, and the two movements were often confused with each other by the wider public. Unlike the discipline and discipleship among Quakers, though, Ranters had no qualms about sexual promiscuity or any other limitations (it was all God’s will, in their eyes, no matter any hurt to others), at least until persecution hit and they readily recanted. Not so the Quakers, who insisted on eternal Truth. God doesn’t change.

So here we are. What are our deepest values? Where do we stand firm, and where do we yield and bend? What is principle and what is opportunistic? How far out is our vision, and how much a matter of short-term maneuvers?

Where are we – each of us – truly accountable?

Anyone else feeling uncomfortable?

WHY WOODPECKER CAN’T KEEP UP

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Many days in the newsroom I had the feeling of same-old, same-old. I’d seen it all before. Another election, just different names and tallies. Another car crash or house fire. A store opening or a restaurant closing. Graduations or obituaries. It’s a long list. And then something refreshing would come along, something that prompted the exclamation, “I’ve never seen that before!” Contrary to the doom-and-gloom image of the business, many of us at the newspaper loved having something uplifting to present.

These days, though, it’s more likely to be along the lines of this couldn’t be happening, could it?

The American presidential campaign is just the most obvious. The Woodpecker Reports appearing at the Red Barn are supposed to be a reminder of the underlying currents we thought would be shaping this election season – the history and power-brokers moving behind the scenes, especially. Things we’d seen before, round after round, including the same players or their disciples. Woodpecker can hammer away in the infected trees, as he’s been, but when the forest catches fire, he’ll take flight. I know this: things are spinning too fast to keep up. And that’s before we get to the climate instability that’s more glibly called global warming.

~*~

I’m still aghast at the reports of Sen. David Perdue’s “joking” when he encouraged participants at a religious conference to pray that President Obama’s “days be few,” a reference to Psalm 109. The audience apparently picked up on the calamities to be inflicted not just on the transgressor but on his spouse and children, too – evil thoughts, without question. In the text, however, King David is pouring out his soul in response to political persecution, a situation the Georgia Republican blithely ignores. King David’s lines certainly fit as a cry for help from Obama: “Wicked and deceiving words are being said about me, false accusations are being cast in my teeth,” as verse 2 reads in the New Jerusalem translation. “In return for my friendship they denounce me. … They repay my kindness with evil, and friendship with evil” (verses 4-5) match the good intentions Obama had for reasoning with a Republican Congress. As for the evil man oppressing the king, “He had no thought of being loyal, but hounded the poor and needy and the broken hearted to their death. He had a taste for cursing; let it recoil on him!” (verses 16-17).

Taken in its fullness, the Psalm – perhaps even the Holy One – could point to Perdue and laugh, “The joke’s on you.”

Except that this is serious, deadly serious. Prayer is never a joke, not for the faithful. And the Fourth Commandment (Exodus 20:7) warns: “You shall not misuse the name of Yahweh your God, for Yahweh will not leave unpunished anyone who misuses his name.” (The New Jerusalem here gives quite a different insight than the more traditional take of “taking the Lord’s name in vain,” usually seen as colloquial cursing or words not uttered in polite company.)

In a broader context, we can remember that King David could be both passionate and brash, qualities that got him in deep doo-doo more than once, and thanks to Abigail, he even had to recant one of the curses he was about to impose on her husband and all the males in her extended household (I Samuel 25).

While we’re at it, we can also leap ahead to Jesus commanding his followers, “Love your enemies,” and to look for the plank in their own eyes when faulting the splinter in another’s.

Nowhere do I accept an argument that it can be OK to pray for evil.

~*~

Only hours later came the massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, the worst mass slaying by a solitary gunman in the nation’s history.

As I read a few headlines quoting people who were suggesting the sinfulness of the lifestyle was the reason for the tragedy, I once again found myself aghast. (When I reread the reports more carefully, this was not their argument; rather it turned against Islam and its followers. Still, I have no doubt the original line of anti-LGBT argument is circulating through many circles.)

What angered me in my reaction was the notion we see all too often of blaming the victims. If their lifestyle were to blame, how then do we align that with shootings in churches, schools, even movie theaters, as we’re seeing? You’re going to blame Amish children or their parents? Come on, now! Or is something else the cause? At the moment, the United States has more guns per capita than at any previous time in its history; firearms were relatively scarce, even on the frontier, as you’ll discover reading wills from the period.

Let me suggest another calculus:

The more guns, the more murders. Period.

~*~

I just wish that mass shootings weren’t becoming same-old, same-old news in America, with only the numbers and frequency rising. Or that the anger weren’t fueling hatred.

Maybe I need to head out to the garden to see what’s new there. Even picking weeds might be uplifting.

WE’RE HAVING A SHARE IN THE CATCH

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

This summer we’re participating in a program that’s introducing us to varieties of fish caught off the New Hampshire coast. Once a week we trot down to the natural foods store in town to pick up our delivery – our location gives us a three-hour window – and we return with a pound of very fresh seafood. Every week it’s a different variety (11 are likely over the season), and we get an email earlier in the week notifying us what will be on the way, allowing the cook in the household to begin considering menu options. Or we can go to their website for links to suggested recipes.

It’s not cheap – you pay when you sign up, in our case for the 15-week program – about twice what we’d normally shell out for what’s featured at Market Basket, but there are other factors to weigh in. For one thing, living in the Seacoast Region of the state, we’re very aware of the plight of the once vital fishing industry across New England and the struggles to sustain both a way of life for families and communities and the fishing grounds themselves. While we’re not militant local-harvest activists (it just isn’t economically viable for our part of the world, not with its long winter), we are inclined toward small-scale economics wherever possible (just consider the banks, for starters). So we feel good about our token support for our neighbors. In a way, it’s like a farmers market, except that we’re committed to taking the week’s delivery, the way you are in a community-supported agriculture (CSA) setup.

That leads us to another consideration, the fact that the program itself arises in an attempt by the commercial fishermen sailing from Seabrook, Hampton, Rye Harbor, and Portsmouth Harbor to counter the negative impacts of a practice begun in 1976 that directly sold the local harvest in international auction. Rather than having their fishing practices driven by global market pressures, they wanted a more sustainable alternative,  a strategy to better manage marine resources and fish more selectively. In response, four years ago the harvest coop they organized was given an ownership right to collectively manage the federal groundfish fishery. In other words, there’s a strong environmental component here, including a more efficient use of high-cost fuel along the way. As they say, their fish catch hasn’t been sitting on the boat for a week – it comes to port the same day it was caught. Good for them!

Of course, all of that still needs to come together at the dinner table. This isn’t charity, after all, but a win-win deal we’re looking for. We can start with a sense of adventure as we explore previously unknown types of fish. (Acadian redfish, anyone? Or dabs? Or dayboat dogfish shark?) Let me rave about the monkfish on that front – as I ate, I kept thinking this could be lobster tail. So what else is swimming in the same water with me each summer? My curiosity is heightened. What they’re delivering isn’t everything in the local catch, but it is a way of supplementing their income and providing more balance in their cash flow.

We’ll admit this is our splurge, the way our weekly wine tastings were, back when I was duly employed, or the half-pig we ordered from a farm in Maine, two other examples that allowed us to learn more of the range in taste and satisfaction in our world. Admittedly, we couldn’t do the fishery program when the kids were still living in the house – they can be picky that way, with one easily upset by the mere whiff of fish cooking. Oh, my.

Initially, too, I thought a pound would be on the skimpy side when it comes to our dinner, but we’re finding the enhanced freshness in flavor satisfies in smaller portions – we can serve three and still have a bit left over. Actually, it’s about what we’d get in a restaurant while spending much more.

Reading the profiles of the participating fishermen on the website has me wondering how long I’ll go before making a list of their boats, just so I can identify them when they pass by in the water or tie up at dock. They seem like nice guys, too. Maybe we’ll wave. It does change my perspective, doesn’t it.

Now I’m wondering about similar alternatives being developed around the world. Pipe up, if you wish, along with your own growing awareness.

~*~

New Hampshire Community Seafood is a cooperative of fishermen and consumers that has 18 pickup locations with deliveries spaced from Tuesday through Saturday.

LONG AND WILD AGAIN

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments

Not all that many years ago some people close to me reacted strongly to a jest that I was thinking of growing a ponytail. Well, they didn’t threaten to murder me if I did. It was more like a promise.

They wouldn’t believe I’d actually had one, back in the day.

No, it wasn’t until my old housemate from after college visited and confirmed my description that their resistance evaporated.

I still can’t get used to the reality that in place of his own huge blond Afro he’s now completely bald, by the way, although I suspect that reality played into what happened after he and his wife left for home.

I let my hair grow, at least what’s left of it.

As one of those close to me said in relenting, Well, if you’re writing hippie novels, you may as well look the part.

Ahem.

Or reliving a part of the experience. Or calculating the odds that I’m in a range where one diagnosis could lead to chemo and then … or even that I might shave my head in sympathy with someone else who’s undergoing chemo. Or even that this might look better than a comb-over, and that was even before the Donald started crowding our news pictures with his own atrocious mop.

In other words, I had a premonition of now or never.

Well, that was over a year ago.

While my hair’s growing much more slowly than it did when I was in my early 20s, the mane’s down to past my shoulders again, reminding me of what happens when it’s unfettered in the breeze or I’d be running. More often, it’s back in a ponytail, especially when I’m swimming.

But it’s nothing like I remember. It’s coarser now and tangles easily, for one thing. Then there’s all the thinness on top. At times, it’s even annoying. And there’s all the gray.

So even if it’s low maintenance and avoids trips to the barber, I’m wondering what’s next.

I guess I’m open to suggestion.

GARDENING, WEIRD WEATHER, AND INDOOR APHIDS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

So here we are already in the month of May after what’s been an outright strange winter here in New England – and that’s even before we consider some broader and admittedly frightening American political developments. Whew! (I suppose.)

First off, those who scoff at the predictions of climatic instability should note that our region of the world just had its warmest winter on record, and while I’ve welcomed the break from shoveling tons of snow from our driveway, it comes at a price in terms of pests that would have normally been killed off and of perennial plants that took early hits as a result of false starts. I could point to my beloved fern beds or asparagus as cases in point, or the daffodils, which were poised to blossom when they were nipped by a night that dropped to 17 degrees Fahrenheit. It pains me to think of the way they buckled mid-stem and drooped. The only truly positive outcome I’d accept to date is the fact that our compost bin is not still frozen too tight to turn, sift, and spread on our beds. On the other hand, our state’s ski industry took a hard financial hit, affecting regions that already could use substantial relief.

As for maple syrup? I hate to think of the price tag  when my current supply is emptied and it’s time for the next. It was a short run of sap from everything I’ve heard.

When I call this an nontraditional winter, I should add that I’ve been in the midst of some major home maintenance and interior remodeling, which I’ll detail in future posts, along with some other dramas of a more private nature. Family’s what it is, after all, along with some public affairs of a more local nature. Oh, yes, we had to go without supplementary wood heat, at least until that chimney’s fixed. Have I said anything about household expenses and supporting finances?

None of that’s kept us from looking ahead to summer, even if we wound up getting many of the seedlings started later than we would have liked – we did, after all, get the portable shelves and grow lights up in what’s otherwise our front parlor (aka the “library”) and then delighted in watching the green sprouts appear. At least until the next shock.

What we hadn’t previously encountered was aphids, first in the peppers and then the basil before they spread as far as my African violets. We’ve been using a soapy spray as an organic counteraction, but it’s still unsettling.

At least our early peas are in the ground and looking happy as they pop their heads up underneath their elegantly stringed frames in the side of our yard we call The Swamp.

As I draft this, James Levine is making his final appearance as music director of the Metropolitan company in Manhattan and from the overture of Mozart’s “Abduction from the Seraglio” as I listen to the broadcast, let me add my vote to his laurel as the greatest opera conductor ever. The details, to my ears, are amazing. All of this takes me back, too, to our shared roots in southwest Ohio and rumors of his budding talent. So much as transpired since then.

Random impressions, then. Now, back to whatever is in front of us!