Truths and Half Truths

Star of Wonder ... Shining Bright

After yesterday's post, I got an e-mail from Jude Roche, thanking me for my kind words about her daughters and happily granting me permission to put up a piece of music from "We Three Kings".  I'd asked for permission to use "Star of Wonder", an original composition by Terre Roche which - from the first time I heard it - has become my favourite Christmas song.

I'd often marvelled at the pain and confusion that echo faintly in the song - it has a wistfulness to it that I find utterly compelling.  And the story - a shepherd agonizing about choosing between responsibility and faith and wondering why this mantle has been placed on her shoulders - feels so ... I don't know, so human.  When I hear a piece of music like this, I always find myself wondering about how it was written - what inspired the artist.

So I was delighted to get a second e-mail this morning - this one from Terre Roche.  In part, it says:

Hi, Nils,
Thanks for bringing The Roches' Christmas CD to the attention of your friends.  It's one of my favourite records, too.  And especially thanks for singling out "Star of Wonder".  That's my song of appreciation to my very close friend Joanna Walton, who was killed in a terrorist attack on an airplane over Lockerbie Scotland in 1988.  I wrote the song in the middle of the night and have always felt that it came from someplace beyond.  Each year people have asked permission to do this song in their choir.  Therefore I have posted the sheet music on the Roches website for anybody who would like to sing it.

So now that you know more about it, have a listen to "Star of Wonder" Download14_angels_we_have_heard_on_high.wma  .  (Don't be thrown by the fact it seems to be "Angels We Have Heard on High" - that's something funky my computer did when naming the cuts.  Although that cut is also wonderful, you'll have to buy the CD to hear it.)   (And I cannot stress enough how much you should buy this CD)

You're welcome.

'Tis The Season

Let me start by saying - and I am unshakeable in my conviction here - that this is the single best Christmas album ever recorded.

For those too preoccupied to follow the link, it's "We Three Kings" by The Roches.  In days to come, I'm hoping to have a sample here.  I've written to their management to ask permission, because I feel really strongly about unauthorized duplication and distribution of artists' work.  For the time being, you'll have to find samples where you can, or - better yet - simply take my word for it.  The.  Best. Christmas. Album.  Ever.

The songs (Two dozen of them!) are mostly very familiar, but the arrangements and stunningly original harmonies make them fresh and interesting and fun and -  incredibly enough - as new as if you're hearing them for the first time.  The original material is brilliant.  "Star of Wonder", written by Terre Roche, is one of the most achingly beautiful songs you will ever hear - you can feel the shepherd's uncertainty as she gazes in wonder at the sky above and grapples with whether to follow that bright star or remain with her sheep.  It never fails to make me mist up, and I'm not generally a misty kinda guy.

For about ten years now, this has been the music we put on when we decorate our tree.  To all our family, it signals the start of the Christmas season.  And while we're still a day or two away from December, I'm giving you this info now so you can look for this album online or in a well-stocked record store and give yourself an early gift that will serve you well for years to come.

Now, what are some of the contenders for the second best Christmas album ever ...?

The Heat Is On

It's been a miserable autumn for weather - more wet and windy and cold days than I can remember in other autumns, but I'm getting old and my blood (and body) is thinning, so maybe it's just me.

As I write this, the wind is howling outside and rain is pelting relentlessly against my office windows.  My office is set apart from the main part of the old farmhouse - it was converted from its early life as a mud-room/storage area by the previous owners of the house, who were welcoming her mother from Scotland and built her a "granny suite".  So it's relatively new - well insulated, no drafts, a lovely big bank of windows looking out over the fields. 

It's a big room; my desk is under the windows (a huge old teacher's desk converted for use as a computer desk - looks great, but required some cabinetry to make it practical and I still think I'd be better off with a desk designed for a damn computer instead of for lesson planners and apples).  That part of the room that isn't dominated by the desk and assorted credenzas and filing cabinets is devoted to my pool table.

And in the corner, a honkin' great propane fireplace.

The fireplace has been a source of concern.  It gives off a nice, gentle warmth, but it's a propane pig, and propane ain't getting any cheaper.  Last winter it cost more than $1100 to heat this single frigging room.  I'm not a penny-pincher, but I hate literally burning up money.

When my chimney guy was here to service the two woodstoves we have in the main house, I asked him about replacing the propane with a woodstove.  Turns out it wouldn't be very expensive - evidently, there's a fair market for used propane fireplaces, because they're decorative and efficient - they're just not the best thing to use as a sole source of heat for a big room.  A lovely thing for ambience, sure.  But as a primary heat source - not so much.

Problem is, I've already laid in five cords of firewood for the winter, and the last thing I want to do is throw in another fireplace, then find myself in March looking around for someone to unload a truckload of sodden, unseasoned firewood on me.

So this weekend I went out and bought a space heater - an oil-filled electric radiator that seems to do the job nicely - a pleasant, gentle warmth that suffuses the room.  A ceiling fan helps to keep the heat from just flowing up to the ceiling and out.

It's a 1500 watt heater ... if anybody has experience with these big boys, I'd love to hear about it.  I have no idea whether I'm just picking the pocket of Superior Propane in order to make Maritime Electric richer.  Not that I care who gets rich off me - I'd just like everybody to get a little less rich.

You know, except me.

They Don't Make Kid's Programs Like They Used To ...

This real clip from a British kid's program made me chuckle ... how I'd have loved to have something clever like this to watch when my kids were growing up ...

And Now For Something Completely Different ...

As an antidote to all the serious stuff, let's have some fun:

The following in an excerpt from a children's book, "Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants" by Dave Pilkey. The evil Professor forces everyone to assume
new names......

Use the third letter of your first name to determine your new
first name:
a = poopsie b = lumpy c = buttercup
d = gadget e = crusty f = greasy
g = fluffy h = cheeseball i = chim-chim
j = stinky k = flunky l = boobie
m = pinky n = zippy o = goober
p = doofus q = slimy r = loopy
s = snotty t = tootie u = dorkey
v = squeezit w = oprah x = skipper
y = dinky z = zsa-zsa

Use the second letter of your last name to determine the
first half of your new last name:
a = apple b = toilet c = giggle
d = burger e = girdle f = barf
g = lizard h = waffle i = cootie
j = monkey k = potty l = liver
m = banana n = rhino o = bubble
p = hamster q = toad r = gizzard
s = pizza t = gerbil u = chicken
v = pickle w = chuckle x = tofu
y = gorilla z = stinker

Use the fourth letter of your last name to determine the second
half of your new last name:
a = head b = mouth c = face
d = nose e = tush f = breath
g = pants h = shorts i = lips
j = honker k = butt l = brain
m = tushie n = chunks o = hiney
p = biscuits q = toes r = buns
s = fanny t = sniffer u = sprinkles
v = kisser w = squirt x = humperdinck
y = brains z = juice

Thus, for example, George W. Bush's new name is Goober Chickenshorts. John Kerry is Cheeseball Girdlebuns. And Paul Martin is Dorkey Applesniffer.

I, of course, am Boobie Cootiepants. Nice to meet you. You are ...?

Dignity and Grace ...

How 'bout that?

Woke up this morning and the sun had risen (okay, figuratively - it was pissing rain, but behind those clouds, somewhere, there was sun), and yet ... George W. Bush had been elected President of the United States.

Gotta say, had I the right to vote in the United States, W. wouldn't have been my choice. Not that I'm a big John Kerry fan - I find little to choose between two rich, privileged, overly-entitled, middle-aged white guys from the same Ivy League school, lecturing the rest of us poor schlubs on what would be best for us. I'd love to know the last time either of them wrote a cheque or glanced at a bank statement or paid part of the balance on an overdue Visa bill or winced at a jump in tuition fees or broke away from a meeting to pick up one of the kids or even snapped off a light as he went past to save a few pennies on the Hydro bill. Tell ya what, sport - I'll listen to you talk about what's best for middle-income families when you can guess within a margin of error of ten bucks what it costs to fill up a Honda Civic. Thought so.

But the electoral process - in the U.S. as it is in Canada - is about taking water with the wine, and all things considered I'd have voted for John Kerry, principally on the basis of "how much worse can he be?" Not inspiring, to be sure. But ... life as we know it.

Today, as I meander through some of my favourite blogs and sort through my e-mails and watch the news, I'm being scorched by a lot of seething anger and vitriol, pelted by sour grapes, assailed by bleatings of despair and hopelessness, and ... well, pissed off by the neener neener neener crowing of those who thought things turned out just fine, thank you.

Stop it. All of you. Please.

My Dad, who's a pretty smart guy, told me that the mark of a decent human being was to win with dignity and lose with grace. He had contempt for Vince Lombardi's old saw: "Show me a good loser and I'll show you a loser." He saw nothing to recommend bad losers, and felt the same way about bad winners.

Dad understood that, win or lose, there came a time when the whistle blew and you and your opponent would stand there, on the field, no officials, no rules, no time clock, no score - just two people on a field. And that, in the end, both you and your opponent would have to go back to just being human beings inhabiting the same planet, breathing the same air, and possessed of far more similarities than differences.

If you're thrilled that things turned out the way they did, good for you. Be thrilled. Share it with like-minded friends. They'll understand it better and they will join you in a communal celebration. High five one another. Buy each other drinks. Enjoy. Things aren't going to be as good as you think, but that's all down the road.

And if you think the results sucked ... well, things won't be as bad as you think, but that's down the road, too. Suck it up and resolve to do what you can to mitigate what you think the worst of the damage will be.

Don't accept defeat with resignation and a shrug. But neither should you refuse to accept that - on this day, in this arena - things didn't go your way. Acknowledge, mourn, then shake it off and - having learned - come back stronger.

With her kind permission, I've snipped an essay from a writer I've mentioned here a few times. Sarah D. Bunting - Sars - has a wonderful site called TomatoNation - one of those places I visit every single day. If there's nothing new that day, I delve at random into the archives to feast on some of the most delicious writing I've encountered. I suggest you do the same, and to offer you a taste, here's a response she had to a Kerry supporter in despair over the results of last night's election.

************************************

Man, where to begin. Okay: This is not over.

Yeah, I know. No...I know. Listen: This. Is. Not. Over.

The United States is about potential. No other country has a dream named after it, a dream about improvement and achievement. The results of this election fill me with dread, frankly, but also with determination, because the dream is not dead.

This country is, to my mind, in some serious fucking trouble right now. It's a big job to fix it, the guy in charge is wrong for the job, the legislature is wrong for the job -- it's depressing and shitty.

But millions of people thought Bush sucked and tried to vote him out -- millions! It didn't work, which is a grave disappointment, but -- millions! Think what millions could do if they applied themselves -- in any direction! Writing letters, protesting, raising money, organizing, educating themselves and others. Stubbornly staying put and refusing to back down. Improving the country. Achieving something.

Yes, Bush won. Yes, I want to barf until my stomach lands in the bowl and I die. Yes, I hate that I live in a country where more than half the citizens think that dumb-ass is a good leader.

But I also live in a country where I nicely asked people to give some money to public schools, and those people raised more than ten grand in a week. Yeah, it's a contest, but y'all didn't do that because you wanted a tote bag, for God's sake. You did it because you give a shit. And my readership is not composed of Fortune 500 types, either. (As far as I know. Fortune 500 types welcome, of course. Hi, Mr. Soros! Call me!) It's just folks. It's just you guys, people trying to get by, who did something nice and tried to help and became a part of something. I can't tell you what that's worth.

So, no, it's not a good day, but this country still has so many good people and good ideas in it, and I can't imagine that the good in this country won't prevail. And until that happens, I won't leave. There's work to do. There are faces to get up in, which I'm happy to take the lead on, because I already have an FBI file so what the hell, right?

Senator John Edwards just said that "this fight has just begun." That's goddamn right, cutie. So, readers, get drunk, kick something really hard, scream into a pillow, cut that photo of Karl Rove out of The New Yorker and stab it with a pen, but -- stick around, because I'm telling you, this show is about to get good.

This is not over.

*****************************

There it is. Defiance, sure. And dismay. But ... grace.

Sars Cares and Shares (and yes, they all rhyme)

I've prated on before about Sars from TWoP, and her writing. She's hilarious and wonderful and all that stuff and I can't recommend her site strongly enough. And not just for the writing ... there's this ... where she challenges her readership to help fund educational projects. And they respond. Big time. Read a list of the projects the visitors to her website have fully funded. It's a reaffirmation that this thing with the internets might not be all bad.