How It's Done

Doris Day is one of the most genuinely nice people on the planet. This note in response to a tabloid smear from a little over a year ago shows how it's done. The lady is the epitome of style and class.

In the note she mentions always calling John Denver by his real name, Deutschendorf. That reminds me of a darling clip of Doris and John from her 1975 special, Doris Day Today.

Enjoy!

The Dark Is Rising Sequence

I’ve been reading Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising sequence. Finished the fifth and final book, Silver On The Tree last night. They are delightful books, vaguely Arthurian (and I’m a pushover for anything Arthurian, however vaguely), wholly delightful Fantasy Adventure novels.

Two of the books are set in Cornwall, two in Wales and one in the author’s native Buckinghamshire, which is where I lived during my three years in England. Five children are brought together over the course of the sequence, under the direction of Prof. Merriman Lion, to help him in his long fight against the Dark. It very soon becomes clear that Great Uncle Merry is rather more than he seems, and by the end, all the children know him for who he really is, and they understand exactly what he is fighting.

The charm of these books lies not only in the “magic,” and the ancient lore, most of it Celtic, Cooper weaves into the narrative, but also in her descriptions of landscapes and of ordinary life, especially family life. The people and places are vividly drawn. Though I’ve never been to Wales, I could see the mountainsides with their granite outcrops and hear the baahing of the sheep and the high call of the curlews. Though I’ve never been to Cornwall, I could see the grassy headlands and the golden sanded beaches. The characters, too, are well drawn. They are individuals, each doing what is appropriate for him or her. The reader understands them and cares about what happens to them.

And, quite a lot happens to them during the course of the sequence, both in the here and now and in other times and other places, some of which are historical, some out of the mists of legend.

The NLS notice on each book says, “For grades four through seven and older readers. I don’t hesitate to recommend them to readers of all ages.

The Dark Is Rising Sequence
Over Sea, Under Stone
The Dark Is Rising
Greenwitch
The Grey King
Silver On The Tree

Word Verification

Because of the high number of spam comments on this blog, I have reluctantly instituted word verification for comments.

I apologize for this unpleasant necessity and for the inconvenience it will cause. Please be assured that I've done it as a last resort.

Engelbert

The past few days, I've been on a kick of listening to a lot of Engelbert Humperdink. YouTube has a number of clips from his 1969-70 television show and a program he did in 1972 which, if I understand correctly, was shown in Germany, as well as various other TV and concert appearances through the years. There are also the ubiquitous homemade videos and slide shows to songs.

I've always loved Engelbert. I grew up listening to him and Andy Williams and Julie Andrews. In my teens I discovered Vic Damone *swoon* and Johnny Mathis *dreamy* and of course I liked the pop music of the day: I loved the Carpenters, really, *really* liked Barry Manilow and, well, I shudder to think of it, but I was well and truly mad for Donny Osmond. Oh my goodness but I was obnoxious about him. I don't know how my parents managed not to murder me. *wry grin*

But, you know, the first record album I ever saved up for and bought with my own money was Engelbert's After the Lovin' album. I like to think this means that, underneath the silly, obnoxious teenybopper, I had good taste all along.

Here's Engelbert from his 1972 show singing "Another Time, Another Place." If he's not the definition of a heartthrob, I don't know who is.

Happy Birthday Aung San Suu Kyi

The Nobel Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi's birthday is today.

All of us who accept our freedom without a thought, who live in peace and prosperity and democracy owe an incalculable debt to heroes like Aung San Suu Kyi.

Link
Aung San Suu Kyi, Birthday and Freedom

Flag Day

As listener reminds us with this photo, today is Flag Day.

A Family Outing

This cute photo is by listener.

Exoplanet Caught Mid Orbit

Astronomers using the Very Large Telescope (VLT) have caught an unprecedented glimpse of an exoplanet moving in its orbit around a distant star. Called Beta Pictoris b, the exoplanet has been directly imaged in two separate points covering nearly half of its orbit. The achievement could prove a significant stepping stone in our understanding of how planetary systems, including our own solar system, formed.

 Exoplanet caught on the move

Jacques Cousteau's Centenary

Gulf Project

Obviously, BP can’t cap its runaway oil well in the Gulf of Mexico.

What I want to know is, why hasn’t the call gone out to every university, college and institute, to every federal, state and local government agency (especially in Gulf states) and to every NGO in the United States that has expertise with oil, marine environments and/or engineering for the best and brightest to assemble in a Manhattan Project style endeavor to solve the problem. Surely, preserving the ecology and economy of our Gulf coast states and the Mississippi River is more important than working out how to build a goddamn atomic bomb!

I don’t know who would be the most appropriate person to send out such a call, whether it would be the President, the Vice President or the Secretary of the Interior. All I know is, the call has to be put out now. Hell, it ought to have been put out as soon as the search and rescue operation concluded. What are they waiting for? This accident is a matter of acute national interest and economic and environmental security

Environmental Impact of the Gulf Oil Spill

Renowned environmentalist Jean Michel Cousteau on The News Hour discussing the disaster in the Gulf of Mexico.

Thinking about Time

In the course of reading The Fabric of the Cosmos by Brian Greene, I came across an intriguing concept, that travel to the past may perhaps be possible, but that changing the past is not. The reason for this is, more or less, that each moment is its own immutable now. Sound familiar, fans of Walt Whitman and St. Augustine? I wrote a paper in grad school dealing with the eternal nature of now in relation to the Tree of Charity in The Vision of Piers Ploughman. It's a subject that interests me.

In particular just now, however, I found Greene's idea provocative because one of my current active projects deals specifically with time travel to the past that goes awry. The traveler ends up in a couple of different parallel realities rather than going straight back in her own. One of them is pretty far removed from her own timeline, and I've been wondering how such a major mistake could have happened. Her friend, the “time machine’s” inventor is a talented and highly skilled quantum mechanician. How did he land her so far from her home reality?

Since reading Greene's remarks, though, it occurred to me to wonder if it really was a mistake as such at all. Maybe the operator of the "time machine" meant to send the traveler to a parallel reality all along. The story is told in first person narrative by the traveler, a person who knows next to nothing about Quantum Physics. The operator could have told her a fib, an oversimplification...His goal might have been to send her to a parallel reality all along, since he knew that changing the past, as such, is impossible.

I'll need to chew on the idea some more, but it presents possibilities. It may mean that the story is more complicated, and thus more interesting, than I initially anticipated. That's good, since simple stories don't sell.

The Beach Boys - California Girls ( with Bob Hope and Jack Benny )

This can make you smile, even on a really down day.

Key Stakeholders Agree on Measures to Protect Blind Pedestrians

I saw this on one of my NFB listservs today.

Urge Passage as Part of Motor Vehicle Safety Act

Baltimore, Maryland (May 19, 2010): The National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the American Council of the Blind (ACB), the Alliance of Automobile Manufacturers (AAM), and the Association of International Automobile Manufacturers (AIAM) announced today that they have agreed on proposed legislative language that will protect blind pedestrians and others from the danger posed by silent vehicle technology.

The four organizations are urging Congress to adopt and pass the language as part of the Motor Vehicle Safety Act of 2010?which is currently pending in both houses of Congress?as quickly as possible. The proposed language would require the Department of Transportation to promulgate a motor vehicle safety standard requiring automobiles to emit a minimum level of sound to alert the blind and other pedestrians.

Dr. Marc Maurer, President of the National Federation of the Blind, said: “The National Federation of the Blind commends the automobile industry for its leadership on this issue and for its genuine concern for the safety of blind Americans, cyclists, runners, small children, and other pedestrians. We look forward to working with the parties to this agreement, the United States Congress, and the Department of Transportation to ensure that America’s streets remain safe, both for those who drive and for those who do not.”

"Good policy is a collaborative effort, and this is a good approach for pedestrians and automakers," said Dave McCurdy, President and CEO of the Alliance of Automobile Manufacturers.

Because blind pedestrians cannot locate and evaluate traffic using their vision, they must listen to traffic to discern its speed, direction, and other attributes in order to travel safely and independently. Other people, including pedestrians who are not blind, cyclists, runners, seniors, and small children, also benefit from hearing the sound of vehicle engines. New vehicles that employ hybrid or electric engine technology can be silent, rendering them extremely dangerous in situations where vehicles and pedestrians come into proximity with each other.

A recent report released by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) stated that hybrid and electric vehicles are nearly twice as likely to be involved in accidents with pedestrians as vehicles with internal combustion engines.

CONTACT:
Chris Danielsen
Director of Public Relations
National Federation of the Blind
(410) 659-9314, extension 2330
(410) 262-1281 (Cell)
cdanielsen@nfb.org

RIP Lena Horn

I was sorry to hear this evening that Lena Horn has died. She was ninety-two.

RIP

The News Hour's obituary

Moving Right Along

Marooner’s Haven has comfortably past the 50,000 word mark; so, I’m justified in referring to it as a novel rather than a writing project. It’s going well too. There’s still a great deal of work to be done on it, but at last I’m cautiously optimistic that I might actually finish it one of these days.

Maybe it’s my Celtic melancholy or maybe it’s something else, but my pleasure in how well MH is going devolved today into uncertainty and even mild gloom. It’s all very well to write a novel, but when it’s written, will anyone buy it? It’s a simple, quiet book with no violence, no sex, little strong language. There are no chases or explosions or murders, no espionage or space exploration or rampaging aliens. I’m fond of the characters; I find the story absorbing, but will publishers and readers?

I don’t hold with writing what the market dictates. I believe in writing what’s inside you, the stories that demand that you write them. It seems to me that only in that way can a piece of writing be true and genuine. I also understand the concept of toiling for twenty-five years in order to become an overnight success. But I’ve been working that long and longer and have yet to make my first “professional” sale. Is the problem that I’m a bad writer or that I don’t write material that has commercial potential? The question that has begun to trouble me is, are they the same thing? If I can’t produce work that a commercial editor will buy, can I consider myself a good writer?

So, despite how well Marooner’s Haven is going, I find myself downhearted and doubtful.

Part of the problem might, of course, be organic. I haven’t been sleeping well, which lowers the defenses.

Because of the insomnia, though, I’ve been doing a good deal of reading. This Spring I’ve read The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. Finished Changes, book 12, last week. I wish there could be further books in the series, but don’t really see how that would be possible. It’s an excellent series. Someone has called it Harry Potter meets The Rockford Files, which seems to me an apt description.

The series really hits its stride with book 3, Grave Peril, but from the beginning with Storm Front it is at one and the same time a well realized world of its own and a riff on, sometimes a spoof of, Fantasy and Hard Boiled Detective conventions. There are vampires and werewolves, madams and gangsters; and there’s a hard nosed but cute and golden-hearted police detective, Karen Murphy, with whom Dresden never quite manages to get off. There’s also magic, magic which is viewed in a very down to earth, practical way.

The interpersonal relationships that develop over the course of the series are complex and realistic, many of the recurring characters finely drawn and nuanced, people the reader cares about. I would recommend the series to both fans of detective fiction and those who enjoy stories about magic.

I’ve also been reading, and in a few cases rereading, Agatha Christie and Mary Roberts Rinehart. One Rinehart book that I particularly enjoyed is The Amazing Interlude. This is not a mystery. Instead, it is set in 1915 Belgium, I presume based on the author’s experiences as a war correspondent. It deals not with the conduct of the war but with a young girl from Pittsburgh, Sarah Lee Kennedy, who opens a soup kitchen and rest stop just behind the lines. Though others may read it differently, The Amazing Interlude seems to me very much an antiwar book. In any case, it is an absolutely lovely story.

Besides reading old standbys, I’m also au current. As well as Changes which, if I’m not mistaken, came out this year, I’ve read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and started The Girl Who Played with Fire by Steig Larsson, both of which were all the rage on Library Thing last year. They are excellent books, though extremely violent. I’ve preordered The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, which isn’t out from Audible yet.

I’ve also been reading Robert J. Sawyer. In the Winter I readCalculating God, went on to Starplex, my favorite of his books I’ve read so far, and devoured The Neanderthal Parallax. The first volume, Hominids, was serialized in Analog some years back; but, I read it again before proceeding to Humans and Hybrids. Now I need to reread Wake before tackling Watch. I also read Rollback when it was serialized in Analog.

I like Sawyer’s books. They’re more laidback and thoughtful than some. I tend to attribute this difference to his being Canadian, but it may simply be due to his personality. He is one of my FaceBook friends, or I am one of his. From what I’ve seen of him there, he seems like a really nice guy.

Of course, his success is depressing... No. I’m not going to go back there!

I Am A Nerd

Workers Memorial Day

I received the following this afternoon from the United Steel Workers.

PLEASE NOTE: according to our records, this is the first Presidential Proclamation marking Workers Memorial Day

THE WHITE HOUSE
Office of the Press Secretary

For Immediate Release April 28, 2010

WORKERS MEMORIAL DAY, 2010

- - - - - - -

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A PROCLAMATION

This year marks the 40th anniversary of both the Occupational Safety and Health Act and the Federal Coal Mine Health and Safety Act, which promise American workers the right to a safe workplace and require employers to provide safe conditions. Yet, today, we remain too far from fulfilling that promise. On Workers Memorial Day, we remember all those who have died, been injured, or become sick on the job, and we renew our commitment to ensure the safety of American workers.

The families of the 29 coal miners who lost their lives on April 5 in an explosion at the Upper Big Branch Mine in West Virginia are in our thoughts and prayers. We also mourn the loss of 7 workers who died in a refinery explosion in Washington State just days earlier, the 4 workers who died at a power plant in Connecticut earlier this year, and the 11 workers lost in the oil platform explosion off the coast of Louisiana just last week.

Although these large-scale tragedies are appalling, most workplace deaths result from tragedies that claim one life at a time through preventable incidents or disabling disease. Every day, 14 workers are killed in on-the-job incidents, while thousands die each year of work-related disease, and millions are injured or contract an illness. Most die far from the spotlight, unrecognized and unnoticed by all but their families, friends, and co-workers -- but they are not forgotten.

The legal right to a safe workplace was won only after countless lives had been lost over decades in workplaces across America, and after a long and bitter fight waged by workers, unions, and public health advocates. Much remains to be done, and my Administration is dedicated to renewing our Nation's commitment to achieve safe working conditions for all American workers.

Providing safer work environments will take the concerted action of government, businesses, employer associations, unions, community organizations, the scientific and public health communities, and individuals. Today, as we mourn those lost mere weeks ago in the Upper Big Branch Mine and other recent disasters, so do we honor all the men and women who have died on the job. In their memory, we rededicate ourselves to preventing such tragedies, and to securing a safer workplace for every American.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim April 28, 2010, as Workers Memorial Day. I call upon all Americans to participate in ceremonies and activities in memory of those who have been killed due to unsafe working conditions.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-eighth day of April, in the year of our Lord two thousand ten, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-fourth.

BARACK OBAMA

The Rainbow Connection

Kermit reminds us to be dreamers. After all, dreaming is what life's all about.

Stolen wallet? Tips to Prevent Credit Card Fraud and identity Theft

This item from the April issue of Husky News is important enough to share:

When Your Wallet Goes A.W.O.L.
When your wallet is lost or stolen, it's tough not to fear the worst-credit card fraud and identity theft. But you can hold the panic at bay by acting quickly and taking a few preventative measures that help protect your credit and reduce your liability.

Before Your Wallet Goes A.W.O.L.
Because identity theft is on the rise and a real threat you should not ignore, take these steps NOW as preventative measures:

1. Photocopy your credit cards, ID cards, and licenses (front and back) to help you report their loss accurately and efficiently.
2. Keep the copies in a safe place.
3. Make new copies of cards that are updated or replaced.
4. NEVER carry your Social Security card with you. Keep it safe in a secure location.

After Your Wallet Goes A.W.O.L.
Upon discovering that your wallet is irretrievable, take these steps ASAP:
1. Cancel your credit cards and request replacements with new numbers.
2. Call agencies such as the Department of Motor Vehicles and your healthcare provider for replacement licenses and ID cards.
3. Report the theft of your wallet to the police.
4. Contact each national credit reporting agency (Equifax, Experian, Trans Union) to request that a fraud alert be attached to your accounts.
5. Request a free credit report at AnnualCreditReport.com to check for and report any unusual activity.

Although these measures cannot guarantee the security of your identity and credit, they go a long way to deter thieves and protect your financial liability.

Time Heals Everything

Time heals everything
Tuesday, Thursday
Time heals everything
April, August
If I'm patient the break will mend
And one fine morning the hurt will end

So make the moments fly
Autumn, Winter
I'll forget you by
Next year, Some year
Though it's hell that I'm going through
Some
Tuesday, Thursday,
April, August,
Autumn, Winter
Next Year, Some Year
Time heals everything
Time heals everything,
But loving you

- Jerry Herman

Come Into The Parlor

Today I celebrate my Irish heritage, with its faith, its all too sometimes tragic patriotism and its, sometimes rather dark, humor.

from St. Patrick's Breastplate

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

Read the entire, beautiful and moving prayer.

Kevin Barry

In Mountjoy Jail one Monday morning,
High upon the gallows tree,
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.
Just a lad of eighteen summers,
Yet no one can deny,
As he walked to death that morning
He proudly held his head on high.

Just before he faced the hangman,
In his dreary prison cell,
British soldiers tortured Barry
Just because he would not tell
The names of his brave comrades,
And other things they wished to know,
'Turn informer or we'll kill you!'
Kevin Barry answered 'No!'

Calmly standing to attention,
As he bade his last farewell
To his broken-hearted mother,
Whose sad grief no one can tell,
For the cause he proudly cherished
This sad parting had to be;
Then to death walked, softly smiling,
That old Ireland might be free.

Another martyr for old Ireland,
Another murder for the crown,
Whose brutal laws may kill the Irish,
But can't keep their spirit down.
Lads like Barry are no cowards,
From the foe they will not fly;
Lads like Barry will free Ireland,
For her sake they'll live and die.

Read a brief biography of this young Irish patriot.

There is sorrow and pathos in death. Sometimes, though, the Irish can also find

humor in the situation.

Steve O'Donnell's Wake

Steve O'Donnell was a gentleman
So everybody said
He was loved by all his friends
Both rich and poor
And everyone felt sorry
When they heard that Steve was dead
And they saw the piece
Of Crepe upon the door

The barber came to shave
The Galway slagga from his throat
And cut his hair
In a la pompadore
A red necktie and buttonhole boquet
Was in his coat
And a bunch of shamrocks
In his hand he wore

Undertaker Feeney had the job
To lay O'Donnell out
In a casket
Of the very finest make
He dressed the corpse in broadcloth
And said: "Boys, there'll be no doubt"
That they'll all get drunk
At Steve O'Donnell's wake

There were fighters
Biters and Irish dynamiters
There was beer, gin
Whiskey, wine and cake
There were men in high positions
There were Irish politicians
And they all got drunk
At Steve O'Donnell's wake

There were fifty candles at his head
And twenty at his feet
Plenty flowers sent
For friendship's sake
"Oh, Steve, me by'e, why did you die?"
The grieving widow said
And we all felt sad
At Steve O'Donnell's wake

Mike McGovern said that
Steve O'Donnell was an awful bum
Of course he only meant it
For a joke
But Paddy Mack got up his back
And he made McGovern run
Cause he hit him in the eye
An awful poke

They all joined in the fightin'
Then cause everyone was mad
And blood enough was spilled
To form a lake
They knocked the corpse down on the floor
And blew off all the lights
There was murder down
At Steve O'Donnell's wake

Then the cops came in to stop the brawl
To make them understand
And the corpse was picked up
By his brother Dan
But someone stole the necktie
From around O'Donnell's throat
Mike McGovern said O'Reilly
Was the man

O'Reilly's friends got crazy mad
And swore they'd have his life
McGovern saw he made
A great mistake
They fought and fought
And danced around until the cops came in
And arrested all
At Steve O'Donnell's wake

Until today, I only knew the first and third stanzas of this rollicking, darkly comic song. The whole left me laughing helplessly for a moment. After all,melancholy and mirth are inextricably bound in the Celtic psyche, especially the Irish. It isn't stated, but I suspect the truth is that Steve had the best time
of anyone at his wake.

Happy Valentine's Day

Abraham

Irving Berlin is the American Shakespeare. Just as the Bard has a quotation for every occasion, so Irving has a song.

But, both parts of that description are equally important. Irving is "our" Shakespeare. At the same time, he was fiercely proud of being an American; a pride he expressed in the anthem "God Bless America." He also expressed his pride in and love for the United States in two historical pieces that he wrote for the 1942 film Holiday Inn, both of which we shall be featuring this month.

So, with compliments to Messieurs Berlin, Crosby and Co...

Happy Birthday President Lincoln!



Upon a February morn
A tiny baby boy was born
Abraham, Abraham
When he grew up this tiny babe
Folks all called him Honest Abe
Abraham, Abraham
In eighteen sixty, he became
The sixteenth president
And now he's in the hall of fame
A most respected gent
That's why we celebrate
This blessed February date
Abraham, Abraham

When black folks lived in slavery
Who was it set the darkie free?
Abraham, Abraham
When trouble came down from the shelf
Who's heart was bigger than himself?
Abraham, Abraham
The country's going to the dogs
They shouted loud and long
Then from a cabin made out of logs
The right man come along
And that is why we celebrate
This blessed February date
Abraham, Abraham

The U.S.A.'s united thanks
To one whose name was Nancy Hanks
Abraham, Abraham
She gave this land the finest son
Who ever went to Washington
Abraham, Abraham
Someone told him General Grant
Was drinking every night
He answered, "Go see if you can't
Get all my generals tight"
That's why we celebrate
This blessed February date
Abraham, Abraham

Thank the Lord for
Abraham
Abraham

Juices Flowing Again

My friends and colleagues in the writers group were very sympathetic and generous with suggestions about how to beat the block I complained about in the last post.

I want to thank them all, again, very much!

We need Edmund to experience some Man versus Nature. This shouldn't be too hard, since he has never before traveled more than fifty miles away from home. I only have vague ideas about this as yet, but just knowing the material should be there is a help.

Next, he has an encounter with an old woman, who treats him kindly. But, since Edmund is not terribly observant, and generally is not the shiniest battle axe on the wall, or maybe I should say the sharpest, he doesn't perceive her true nature and, since he's pretty pigheaded, she is only able to give him relatively small, unimportant gifts; useful as far as they go, but limited.

However, the very existence of this episode created the need for a later, parallel or at least similar episode. The second person who encounters the kindly old woman is more perceptive, and thus understands that she is a witch wife, albeit not a powerful one. This second person is also rather more amenable to suggestion, so the kindly crone can give the second person some useful help.

These episodes also involve details that tie this story forward to another, set centuries in the future of this world. Indeed, I'll now have to start looking for ways to incorporate similar details into other stories set in this world.

In other words, while the problem of Edmund's quest and specifically his travels hasn't been solved, it no longer seems insoluble and overwhelming. I'm working again, and that's a marvelous feeling!

Ups and Downs

Maybe the editing gig will be more fun than I expected. Still, never again! I don’t deal well with the guilt of judging a submission to be sub par and rejecting it. I do quite like reading the good entries though; so, I guess it all evens out. Got three months of it ahead of me, the deadline being April 30. Oh well, I suppose it’s good experience.

An experience that I’m finding a bit frustrating is the article for The Braille Monitor. The contact from whom I need a few more details in order to finish the article still hasn’t e-mailed me back. I suppose it’s time to light just a small fire under her. After all, she’s the one who wanted publicity in the first place. I want to get the article finished and sent to the editor before he completely forgets having talked to me about it. Hence the necessity of nudging the contact. Blah! I hate being pushy. But, if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. Sigh

By far the biggest problem of the past few days has to do with my high fantasy story, “The Lady of the Stars.” One member of my writers group made the just and reasonable observation that, if the Steorraburg (the palace that is home to the title character) is a place of legend and quest, it needs to be more than three days’ ride away from home. There is, it has always seemed to me, a compelling reason for the journey, especially the journey home, to be as short as possible, a reason that the reader, not having gotten that far yet, couldn’t be aware of. Still, his point is a good one. If I’m going to do this, I ought to do it right. After a few days’ thought, I have come up with a somewhat weak but workable way around the problem of the journey’s length.

But that minor success exposed a major, potentially project-stopping problem. I have nothing, nada, absolutely zipparoony in the way of minor, wayside adventures for my young, would be hero. No fragment, or scrap or shadow of an idea either in the computer or in the dim recesses of my mind. I always thought the violent imagery of racking or cudgeling one’s brains was extreme, hyperbole. I’ve learned better. Never before have both my personal slush pile and my imagination failed me...utterly and completely. I have no notion what to do except maybe to proceed with working on the parts I do have some vague notion about as well as with the swordsmanship research in the hope that inspiration might strike. But, it’s discouraging. I was enthusiastic about this project, and actually dared to voice the hope of finishing it in the foreseeable future. That audacity, that arrogance must have been what caused the problem that has drawn me up short. It’s very upsetting!

Oh well. Better go look at today’s batch of submissions. I meant to do it earlier in the day, but somehow the day got away from me.

Candlemas

listener makes her own candles. Above is a photo of newly made candles that she finished yesterday.

Candlemas is also known as The Feast of Our Lady of the Candles.

The feast's roots are traceable to the Celtic festival of Imbol. Also read this fascinating page from The Wheel of the Celtic Year to learn about the connections between St. Brigid and Candlemas. Thanks to Alan for these two links.

However you look at it, we're coming out of the darkness of Winter into the light of Spring.

What I'm Up To

The article I'm writing for The Braille Monitor is almost finished. In fact, I'd hoped to have it done by the end of the week. But one of my contacts, from whom I still need some info, hasn't supplied that info yet; so, I'm stuck waiting. I hate that.

It's particularly irksome because I'm rather busy just now. Starting Monday, I'll be reading through and selecting pieces for a book to be published this summer by the NFB Writers Division. While I understand the justice of the person who originated the idea doing the editing and selecting, still I wish to heaven the idea had never entered my mind. I've never done any editing before, and the prospect alarms me.My only hope is that there won't be many entries.

I'm also currently working on a Fantasy story for which I need to do research into swordsmanship. While this promises to be fascinating, it will also be long drawn and tiring. But then, what isn't tiring? *sigh*

I probably won't have much time for reading over the coming few months. Recently, i've been reading Edgar Rice Burroughs's Barsoom (Mars) series.Great fun. The first four books are unashamedly pulp fiction but the fifth, The Chessmen of Mars that I just finished, is rather more polished and literary. It's still a tale of high adventure, involving a beautiful princess, a loyal and faithful warrior aspiring to her hand, fabulous and grotesque monsters, an evil monarch and chivalrous friends found along the way who are willing to die for honor. But the style is less overwrought and consciously mannered than that of the earlier books. I enjoy the series, endlessly inventive as Burroughs' mind is. I'd like to read others of his series at some point, but when that may be, I don't know.

RIP Robert B. Parker

I was sorry to hear of the death Monday, January Eighteenth, of mystery writer Robert B. Parker. Still, he died at his desk, working. Surely, that's the way any writer would choose to go.

RIP

Help Out In Haiti

Many organizations are taking part in the international disaster relief efforts in Haiti. The two that yours truly has donated to are UNICEF and Habitat For Humanity. Won't you join me in lending a helping hand to our Haitian brothers and sisters who have lost their archbishop, their cathedral and much of their capital city as well as unknown numbers of their fellow citizens?

Benediction

- photo by listener

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep.

Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.

- St John Chrysostom

Another Vermont Road

- photo by listener

West Virginia may be almost Heaven, but this sure looks like a piece of Paradise to me. (Be sure to click on the photo foor the large version.)

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed:
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon and to the Sun.
Apple, thorn and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them Go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! and then to bed!

- J.R.R. Tolkien
from The Fellowship of the Ring

The More Things Change...

In Eighteenth Century England, the target was Roman Catholics. In the Twenty-first Century United States, it's Muslims. As a species, we don't seem to be making much progress.

It is unnecessary to say, that those shameful tumults, while they reflect indelible disgrace upon the time in which they occurred, and all who had act or part in them, teach a good lesson. That what we falsely call a religious cry is easily raised by men who have no religion, and who in their daily practice set at nought the commonest principles of right and wrong; that it is begotten of intolerance and persecution; that it is senseless, besotted, inveterate and unmerciful; all History teaches us. But perhaps we do not know it in our hearts too well, to profit by even so humble an example as the 'No Popery' riots of Seventeen Hundred and Eighty.

- Charles Dickens
in the preface to Barnaby Rudge, 1868

Snowy Day

When I took this photo at 8:30 this morning, I heard Chickadees singing their Spring song!
"MY tree! MY tree!" This is the earliest I have ever heard it sung; usually it's just one early bird.
This was a whole chorus of Chickadees!

- listener

Maybe the chickadees know something we don't? *grin*

Vermont Roads

Vermont's interstate has two lanes on each side and no billboards.

- listener

Though none are in evidence, this picture puts me in mind of the line from "Moonlight in Vermont:"

Telegraph cables, how they sing along the highway, and travel each bend of the road

A Musical New Year

Just as it is traditional to sing "Auld Lang Sine" at Midnight in English speaking countries, in European countries it is traditional to play The Radetzky March at New Year's Day concerts, usually at the end.

Blue Moon

Besides New Year's Eve, tonight is also a blue moon. Thanks to listener for the reminder and the photo.

Ring Out, Wild Bells!

photo by listener

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

- Alfred, Lord, Tennyson: In Memoriam A.H.H., CVI

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

- Robert Burns

A Little Toddy for the Body

Hot Apple Cider Toddy

Ingredients
3 cups apple cider
1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter, softened
1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cloves
8 graham crackers
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
2 teaspoons rum extract
2 cups non-dairy whipped topping
4 whole cinnamon sticks
4 shots bourbon whiskey
Directions
Heat the apple cider in a non-reactive saucepan.

In a bowl, combine the softened butter, brown sugar, ground nutmeg, cinnamon, and ground cloves. Whip until the butter becomes creamy and the ingredients are incorporated. Place the graham crackers and pumpkin pie spice in a plastic baggie and crush with a rolling pin. Combine the rum extract with the non-dairy whipped topping. In a footed coffee glass, place a single cinnamon stick and a slice of spiced butter. Pour 1 shot whiskey into the glass. Ladle the hot cider to fill the glass. Garnish with a dollop of rum-flavored topping and a sprinkle of graham cracker crumb mixture. Serve warm.

The Green Hills of Earth

I'm currently reading The Green Hills of Earth, a story collection by Robert A. Heinlein. I'd read a few of the stories before, and the title story is one of my all time favorites. It makes me cry every time I read it.Containing some top notch poetry, "The Green Hills of Earth" tells the tale of Rhysling, sometimes baudy troubadour of the spaceways, and how in the end he became both a poet and a hero. The other stories of this volume don't rise to the lovely heights of "Green Hills," though "The Long Watch" comes close, but they are well worth reading, clunky old fashioned tech and sometimes equally old fashioned ideas of social relations not withstanding.

Uncertainty

I just finished Uncertainty: Einstein, Heisenberg, Bohr, and the Struggle for the Soul of Science by David Lindley, a concise and accessible, indeed enjoyable, account of Quantum Theory's antecedents and of the ferment surrounding its development and early years. Lindley brings the personalities involved to life, not only those of the subtitle but also Max Born, Erwin Schrodinger and others. To my mind, he doesn't give Paul Dirac nearly enough credit or space. On the other hand, apart from Bohr he concentrates primarily on German speaking scientists.

As well as a useful history on its own account, Uncertainty serves as a helpful backgrounder for the interested layman whose grasp on the actual Science and Math of Quantum Mechanics is a bit vague. Thanks to Lindley's book, I have returned to The Strangest Man with some hope of being able to follow Dirac's discoveries.

Happy Christmas

I hope everyone had a joyous and peaceful Christmas Day and is having a happy Christmas Week.

Merry Christmas

Double Star

Overnight I read Double Star by Robert A. Heinlein. Mind you, I would have preferred to sleep overnight. However, since that was not possible - Heaven only knows why! - reading this tale of a young actor who is, not entirely by his own consent, drawn into the performance of his life was a rewarding alternative activity.

Volunteer Photographers Help Military Families Share Holiday Love

Everyone, those who approve of the U.S. wars on Iraq and Afghanistan and those who don't, can appreciate this story of volunteerism and the spirit of Christmas.

Photographers Lend a Hand With Portraits of Military Families

The Riddle of the Sands

I'm just finishing up The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers. It's a wonderful book with engaging characters and an absorbing, exciting storyline.

Two young Englishman, Davies and Carruthers explore the islands, sands and sholes of Germany's North Sea coast in Davis' small yacht, the Dulcibella. The sailing and geographical details in and of themselves make the tale enthralling, but there is much more to The Riddle of the Sands than a tale of daring seamanship. This is also a story of mystery, intrigue and romance.

Last Christmas

Chorus:
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special (2X)

Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance but you still catch my eye
Tell me baby do you recognise me?
Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

(Happy Christmas!) I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying "I Love You" I meant it
Now I know what a fool I've been
But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again

Chorus:

(Oooh. Oooh Baby)

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes
I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice
My God I thought you were someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on
A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Oooh Oooh
Now I've found a real love you'll never fool me again

Chorus:

A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
(Gave you my heart)
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Next year
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
special, someone, someone
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
who'll give me something in return
I'll give it to someone
hold my heart and watch it burn
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
I've got you here to stay
I can love you for a day
I thought you were someone special
gave you my heart
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone
last christmas I gave you my heart
you gave it away
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone

We Are All One

DR. ERIC CHIVIAN, Center for Health and the Global Environment Director, Harvard Medical School: There are natural extinctions way before humans showed up. But it is clear that the extinction rate now is 100 to 1,000 and even more times what it was before.

Nobel Laureate Explores Links Between Climate Change, Biodiversity

In India, Battling Global Warming One Stove at a Time

This is a swell idear. I very much hope it catches on.

FRED DE SAM LAZARO: It is sunny most mornings in Khairatpur, but you can hardly tell, at least not until some time after everyone's had breakfast. That's because here and in millions of villages in the developing world, food is cooked with wood or cow dung. The soot or black carbon from incomplete combustion causes not only lung disease, but global warming, says climatologist V. Ramanathan, who is with the Scripps Institution at the University of California, San Diego.

In India, Battling Global Warming One Stove at a Time

Thoughts

"What is given to you you are always afraid will one day cease to be given,
but what you give you can give for ever."

"A work of art is like a human being,
the more it is loved the more beautiful it grows,
reflecting the gift of love like light back again to the giver."

~ Elizabeth Goudge, The Bird in the Tree
pages 47 and 69

Thanks to listener for both the photo and the quotations.

Glass Hammer Mini Reviews

Journey of the Dunadan
GH's first album, Journey of the Dunadan is based on The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. "Derived from" might be a more apt phrase, since the storyline of the album diverges markedly from that of the novel. With plenty of varied, memorable and, above all, whistlable melodies and interesting lyrics, this album introduced the tradition of excellence for which Glass Hammer has become justly renowned.



Perelandra
This dark fantasy is based in part on C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia and in part on the books of his Space Trilogy. But the underlying story, like those of most GH albums, was dreamed up by founding members Fred Schendle and Steve Babb. And, it is indeed dark and dreamlike. There's evil here, fighting to overcome goodness and love, just as it does in our lives. Here, however, it is embodied in a magician called Liusion, whose power surges through the music, hypnotic and seductive. In the end, though, Perelandra escapes or, does she?



On to Evermore
Liusion is once more at work in Longview, wrecking lives, breaking hearts, and trying to bring about the reign of the darkness of hatred and fear. Though there is darkness and sorrow in On to Evermore, there is light as well and the hope of redemption.

There is, of course, also much great music, both instrumental and vocal. The album is also noteworthy for the debut of Walter Moore, longtime GH
drummer, as a lead vocalist.

A Halfling's Holiday in Bree Review

Glass Hammer's Steve Babb has written a story to accompany and explain the band's latest album, The Middle Earth Album (June 15, 2001), in which he chronicles the unexpected adventures of Mr Hamson Brandybuck, grocer, of The Shire.

Like another hobbit of whom we have heard, young Mr Brandybuck has more about him than meets the eye. This is evident upon his introduction, which finds him peacefully fishing more than a mile outside the village of Bree. Though his cousins have told him it is unwise to wander in the wild lands, and though he has heard reports from both dwarves and rangers that unfriendly creatures are about, Hamson is unconcerned, even scornful. A fishing expedition beyond the village, in broad daylight, rates as the tamest of adventures. Or, does it?

Hamson's modest adventure suddenly turns into something rather larger than he can handle, and his prospects of getting out of Chapter One in one piece seem bleak, but for the timely appearance of a Mysterious, clairvoyant stranger. As Hamson is to discover,, this "man with the silver sword" has a knack for turning up in the right place at the right moment. For now, though, he sends the hobbit off home to supper and disappears.

And there Hamson's adventures would have ended, but for his decision to have a talk with Dwalin Ironfist, and the decision of a pretty young southerner to have a talk with the dwarf at the same time. It is during this conversation that we learn of Hamson's other, less worldly calling. He is a poet and song writer; apparently of some reputation, since the Glass Hammer guild, a popular band of minstrels with a more or less steady gig at the Prancing Pony, know many of his songs. More importantly, to the story anyway, this encounter draws both Hamson
and Dwalin into a dangerous adventure involving the pretty and reckless maiden, a troll, and that same hero with the silver sword.

Mr Babb writes with verve and panache, and not a little originality, weaving together elements familiar both to Fantasy readers, and especially J.R.R. Tolkien fans, and to Glass Hammer fans. In particular, long time GH listeners will recognize Balin Longbeard as the hero of a song from Journey of the Dunadan, GH's first album. Here, as the saying is, the legend comes to life. Mr. Babb presents a fine piece of fan writing here, melding the original material all but seamlessly with the given setting and context, while providing helpful if not entirely essential background for the album. That is, one may enjoy The Middle Earth Album without reading the tale; but, reading the tale gives added depth and coherence to the album.

The tale is not wholly without problems. The heroine's mode of dress would certainly have shocked Professor Tolkien, for instance. but, both it and its consequences are amusing, and the author is careful not to cross the line between amusing and raunchy. There is nothing implied about her here beyond that the young lady is, in fact, very young and rather foolish. Her daring and thirst for adventure, while unusual, are not without precedent in Tolkien's writings. At the same time, the happy ending both for Hamson and for his friends is most satisfying. We look forward to more tales from Mr Babb, both with and without GH albums to go with them.

The Middle Earth Album Review

According to Glass Hammer's Steve Babb and Fred Schendle, The Middle Earth Album (June 15, 2001) was recorded, at least in part, live at a concert given by the band in the village of Bree, the Breeland, Middle-earth. And, who am I, a humble fan, to argue with Steve and Fred? They also say in a RealAudio interview on their official web site that many of those in the audience already knew their songs and were able to sing along. Again, incredible as this claim sounds, who am I to argue; especially when the evidence is there on the album. We do not hear Barlyman Butterbur introducing the musicians as he introduced Strider's The Way to her Heart on Journey of the Dunadan. Nonetheless, apart from this regretable omission, the inn atmosphere is unmistakable and embracing.

The album has the feel of a cross between a Medieval fair and a folk concert. This is not surprising given the nature of Middle-earth, which is a pre industrial, bucolic sort of place inhabited by Elves, dwarves, hobbits and, of course, men. The inhabitants take music quite seriously, and made the band welcome, or so the listener gathers. The rowdy but good natured audience comments and joins in the chorus of several songs with gusto.

Indeed, this is very much an audience participation affair. I was sorry to find that the entire album was not recorded live at the Prancing Pony. However,
the several studio tracks maintain the live Folk feel. I don't understand the wizardry of recording, but I know that the studio tracks blend seamlessly with the live tracks, being all but indistinguishable except for the absence of background pub noise and applause.

Along with the usual suspects, Steve, Fred, Walter Moore, and Brad Marler, several of the studio tracks feature the Glass Hammer girls, Suzy Warren, Felicia Sorenson, and Sarah Snyder. Their voices form interesting textures and contrasts of timber with the usually all male GH vocal ensemble. It's a pity that we don't
here the audience's response to the girls. We do, however, hear their response to Fred and Steve, which is positive if somewhat disorderly.

In contrast to his vocal absence from Chronometree, Fred is very much in evidence on this album with several lead vocals, some nice ensemble work, and a couple backing vocals. As comfortable with a lyrical love song as with a hard driving number, here he proves himself equally at home with Folk style ballads as with Prog.

Dwarf and Orc, a comic account of Balin Longbeard's assault on the king of the goblins' cache of beer, and The King's Beer, an encomium to peace and Barleiman Butterbur's famous brew, seem particularly popular with the audience at the inn, as does The Ballad of Balin Longbeard. This last will be familiar to longtime GH fans from its appearance on Journey of the Dunadan.

Also familiar is This Fading Age, a lament for Gandalf the Grey which, to my continuing mystification, first appeared on On to Evermore. I'm glad to see it here. Like a plant set amid its native habitat, on this album its loveliness is no less though differently set off than where it is an exotic. And, This Fading Age is lovely. Lyrics combining hope and melancholy set to a melody that is, in Tolkien's phrase, sad but not unhappy capture well the conflict felt by the Galadrim, the tree folk of Loth Lorien, between the slow moving time of their enchanted land and the tumult of the outside world. Here Susie joins Fred, Steve, and Walter, her sweet, light, and slightly husky mezzo making the song seem even more ethereal and Elven than in the original version.

The band departs from the Medieval/Folk style only once for what is, for my money, the best song of the album. Sweet Goldberry, a musical interpretation of Tolkien's poem The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, features the signature GH sound and lead vocals by Walter Moore. Lighthearted yet deeply felt, this song expresses the sustaining love between Tom and Goldberry. Walter's clear, intense solo, with backing vocals by Fred and Steve, brings the familiar story vividly
to life.

Indeed, each of the songs on the album tells a story though, unusually for GH, the album as a whole does not. This is because it is part of a larger story, one written by Steve. Rangers, Dwarves, Trolls and Maidens or A Halfling's Holiday in Bree tells how many of these songs came to be written and of a hitherto unknown facet of GH's activities. Though one may enjoy The Middle Earth Album on its own, the story lends context and added interest to this album that looks both back to the band's roots and forward to further growth lyrically, musically, and in the realm of storytelling.

Chronometree Review

According to Glass Hammer's official web site their new album, Chronometree (May 1, 2000), is an affectionate spoof of 70s Progressive Rock. This should be immediately evident to anyone who grew up in and absorbed the atmosphere of the 70's (to say nothing of older and wiser souls) even if, like mine, their understanding of Progressive Rock trends of the day was all but nil. There's a feeling in this album that even I recognize as not just familiar, but comfortable, as if a part of myself were externalized and crystallized in the music. The first listen felt like coming home; though, with a half rueful, half selfdepricating smile.

This is not surprising, since Fred Schendel, whose project the album principally is, is some two months younger than myself, having been born in March 1964. As isolated as my disabilities made me during my growing up years, clearly I absorbed the essentials of the same world Fred grew up in.

The melodies, the arrangements, and the production/presentation of this album are all superb, the lyrical sections blending seamlessly with the louder, more turbulent sections, the whole presentation creating and sustaining a dreamlike atmosphere. Only the self-consciously mannered musical and vocal presentations and the slightly silly lyrics give away that Chronometree is a takeoff.

An Eldrich Wind, my favorite track, illustrates the point very well. The song has a beautiful, haunting melody supported by a sensitive, almost minimalist arrangement which relies heavily on the guitar. Meditative, sweetly melancholy, the song leads you into that state where memory and dream, past, present and future become one and your heart is open, yearning for what is beyond.

Or, it would, if you didn't pay too much attention to the lyrics and the way they're presented. apparently mesmerized by watching his record (or more probably the label on the record) spin, Tom, the hapless hero of the album's storyline, falls into a trance like state in which he believes that voices from beyond this world are speaking to him through the music, calling him to a higher reality in other worlds. That is, he has a mystical experience. But, though it seems very rich and wonderful to him, it seems just a touch inauthentic and laughable to the outside observer, the listener, though I can't help also feeling just a bit sorry for Tom.

His mystical experience would seem, if his slurred speech and insistently earnest manner are anything to go by, to be made up of a Pot high, loneliness, and a desperate longing to belong somewhere and to have something of his own to cherish. Probably all of us, including those who have never tried Pot, can relate to this state of mind. And we smile in our greater experience and wisdom, knowing that he has been called to nothing beyond a nap.

Perhaps younger listeners miss this obvious though gentle point. And, though this knowledge adds a dimension of fun to the album, I suppose it is not strictly necessary for enjoyment. However, to state the obvious, Chronometree is a progressive rock album about listening to progressive rock.

It's also about the dangers of taking any art form too seriously, and of taking oneself too seriously. To Tom, Chronometree reveals itself as the revolutionary new science of time. But, in the end, it reveals itself as nothing more nor less than the science of wasting time. Tom is a sort of cross between Don Quixote and Linus Van pelt waiting for a Great Pumpkin who never arrives.

Whether regarded as spoof or straight Prog this, Glass Hammer's latest effort, displays their talent to great advantage. I'm a great fan of Fred's and so, wile enjoying his keyboard wizardry, I was disappointed that he seems to have no vocal presence at all on the album. However, Brad Marler's vocal work, if not a sufficient substitute in the view of the Fred-smitten, is certainly up to GH's usual standard of excellence.

The increased prominence of guitars, besides fitting well with the album's theme, builds on work familiar to GH fans from Journey of the Dunadan, Perelandra, and On to Evermore. The orchestral passages, too, indeed the album as a whole, seem familiar and yet delightfully new as GH continues to grow and develop, as any dynamic organism will. Chronometreeis a worthy successor to the band's previous discs, crowning earlier accomplishments, while foreshadowing future triumphs.

'I Am Not in the Entertainment Business' and Other Rules of MacNeil/Lehrer Journalism

This is how it's done, boys and girls. It's called being a class act. It's also called integrity.

Signing off of Friday's broadcast, Jim Lehrer outlined the journalistic mindset that has driven the program for 34 years and will continue to guide it when its fifth iteration relaunches Monday as the PBS NewsHour:

JIM LEHRER: People often ask me if there are guidelines in our practice of what I like to call MacNeil/Lehrer journalism. Well, yes, there are. And here they are:

* Do nothing I cannot defend.

* Cover, write and present every story with the care I would want if the story were about me.

* Assume there is at least one other side or version to every story.

* Assume the viewer is as smart and as caring and as good a person as I am.

* Assume the same about all people on whom I report.

* Assume personal lives are a private matter, until a legitimate turn in the story absolutely mandates otherwise.

* Carefully separate opinion and analysis from straight news stories, and clearly label everything.

* Do not use anonymous sources or blind quotes, except on rare and monumental occasions.

* No one should ever be allowed to attack another anonymously.

* And, finally, I am not in the entertainment business.

Here is how I closed a speech about our changes to our PBS stations family last spring:

"We really are the fortunate ones in the current tumultuous world of journalism right now. When we wake up in the morning, we only have to decide what the news is and how we are going to cover it. We never have to decide who we are and why we are there."

That is the way it has been for these nearly 35 years. And that's the way it will be forever. And for the NewsHour, there will always be a forever.

A Little Sunshine

This lovely picture was taken by our very own listener.

One Hundred years of Johnny Nercer

Johnny Mercer (1909-1976) songwriter, singer, entrepreneur and, for my money, genius.

Here he is in his role as singer in a duet with Margaret Whiting.



And here's Andy Williams singing Mercer and Mancini's "The Days of Wine and Roses."

Happy Birthday, Gov. Dean!

It's our favorite person's birthday.

Many happy returns of the day, Howard!

That Time of Year

That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self that seals up all in rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73

The Mule and the Writer

Sometimes the world takes its pruning sheers and cuts you right back down to the roots. According to Roger, the gardening expert on Ask This Old House, such drastic action may be necessary to help, or force, a plant to grow properly. I never much liked the idea. Poor plant, ouch! Well, this week the plant is me, and the pruning process feels like being kicked in the gut by a mule.

I've spent the better, or worse, part of ten years as well as many hundreds of dollars on books and classes and domain name registration, beating my brains raw learning HTML, and later XHTML, and CSS and practically memorizing the W3C's web accessibility guidelines. All this fuss and bother had only one purpose; namely, to create the best possible web site to serve as a showcase for my writing. Even once I finally gave up on the web site as too difficult to maintain, I applied my CSS skills to customizing the Blogger blog spots where I proudly posted my fiction and poetry.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

Someone who has perhaps not been writing as long as I have but who is more savvy told me yesterday evening a fact which I had somehow failed to divine for all these years. If a story or poem is freely accessible on the Web, a professional editor won't buy it.

That was the mule kick.

Stunned and reeling, I checked with a very successful writer I know via his blog. He confirmed and gave a reasonable explanation for the policy.

I see the sense of it now. But, that doesn't ease the pain in my gut. I've always been so careful. I've always made it a point to behave in a professional manner to the best of my ability. And yet I missed something so obvious. Not only that, but I wasted valuable time and money on web development skills I don't need. Chagrinned doesn't begin to cover my current mood. Murderous is more like it, or rather suicidal.

All is not lost. Blogger has provisions to make a blog private. I have implemented these provisions on my writing spots. This should keep them ungooglible and yet allow friends and fellow writing group members to view the work, which was really the only purpose of the blogs to begin with. But there's more to it than this debacle.

My lapse in judgment, or whatever you want to call it, regarding "publication" on the Web has shaken me to the core. If I could make such a fundamental mistake about writing, how do I know that any of my decisions or choices is sound? How can I trust my own judgment about anything? The fellow who unleashed the mule kick is very offhand about it. "Mistakes happen." But he hasn't had to watch ten years of his life come tumbling down around him, revealed as totally meaningless and worthless. Perhaps it's a lesson I needed, but it's certainly a shock I'll take a while to recover from.