Now that February is nearly over, I would just like to say to it, "good riddance."
The second month of the year and I have a history of not getting along. I don't think I'm really unusual in this respect. Most of the people I meet here in Illinois complain about the weather these days. The rest are currently in Florida, or Hawaii.
It's cold; it's dark; it's dreary. Christmas was over a long time ago. We societally binged on that chance to ameliorate the gloom with lights and cheer before we even felt the need (we're a little challenged in the impulse-control department) and now the snow is no longer a novelty, and the cold has nothing to do but to better its records (minus 4 so far tonight as I write this; that's in Fahrenheit), and the darkness, while technically diminishing each day, is not making the days noticeably longer just yet. I don't imagine I qualify as having Seasonal Affective Disorder, or Depression, but these days are just harder to live through. My overloaded schedule is making me tired, and I'm not feeling very ambitious.
And yet I've managed to record both Schumann's Scenes from Childhood and Satie's Sports and Divertissments this month, along with a delightful set of Rameau pieces, and a handful of pieces for the organ, including a few improvisations and have been practicing a few other things on the piano. Despite this, I feel like my productivity is down. It may be, or it might be an impression.
That's the first thing I do to combat these feelings: recognize that reality and my perceptions about reality might not be the same thing, particularly when it is cold and dark all the time. Other than having a few valid reasons for somewhat elevated stress, life isn't really any worse. I know what's causing this: it's the weather. I can't do anything about it, but it will change eventually. And when it does I'll have survived another February. Some years are harder than others.
There have been a few days when I haven't been particularly productive at all, but these tend to be on Mondays after weekends packed with extras--4 church services and a choir rehearsal always, but sometimes a late-night gig or a marathon rehearsal into the bargain. In that case, I forgive myself for not pursuing projects I would like to; get some rest, write some blogs, and get on with it the next day.
But it's February's final week, now. I'm taking a little hiatus from practicing this week, which is the only thing I really can take a haitus from (I can get away without voluntarily touching the piano and organ for a few days and still manage to sound fine at rehearsals and services). I'll be back by next week, I'm sure. Right now, I'm simply acknowledging that I need a break, and since I'm not going anywhere once again, February and I will have to do battle alone. But I've been watching the calendar and it hasn't got much time left. Soon it will just be another discarded page on the calendar. Take that, February! I always knew you were two days short of a real month.
And don't think you can get out of your impending doom by sending us more snow. It's pretty, but unless there's an avalanche I think we'll survive it just fine. But thanks for trying. It's given me a chance to make another hot cherry pie, and stock up on the cocoa and chai tea.
I'll watch you rage all you want outside, and be warm.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
And a number of partridges in a grove of trees, too
I pose a question of no consequence to anyone as I lie here resting and recalibrating...how many pieces of music did I play during the month of December?
It is bound to be a very inexact count since I don't have all the artifacts necessary for the reconstruction. But let's try, shall we?
Now in a regular weekend at church I play four services. The Saturday evening service only has a prelude, postlude, four hymns (all chosen by the congregation at the time) and a doxology. Seven pieces. Sunday morning at 8am features a prelude, opening hymn, meditation improvisation, solo anthem, prayer response, offertory, closing hymn, and postlude. That's eight more. None of these pieces is likely to be the same as any for Saturday night. Then there is the 9 o'clock service. Usually this consists of about six praise songs (with the band). At 10:30 we have the same line up as 8, except with a full choir and an additional middle hymn (nine more). So, 7+8+6+9=30 pieces, more or less. Not including any rehearsals (which probably means I played at least 8 of those pieces at least twice.)
Ok, 30 a morning times four. 120 pieces of music at church. Don't forget Christmas Eve, now!
I need the bulletins for that one. Well, I can take a wild guess. I'll spare you the calculations.
5pm service:10
7pm service: 11
11pm service:8
I'm not going to break it down into soloists, band, choir, congregational hymns, organ solo pieces, and so on.
However, I just realized that two of those Sundays were special music Sundays. On one of them, at the 10:30 service, the choir sang seven anthems. (Let's add five pieces to our total; take away a couple for no organ offertory and maybe one fewer hymns--I don't think so now, but I'll be conservative anyway.) And the 9am service the following week was a musical with 17 musical cues (I had to know that as I played for all of them), at least 10 of which count as full pieces, and the others represent smaller bits of pieces. Let's say 12, so we'll add six more to that week's count. So, 120+5+6+----Christmas eve=29 total from church services=160
Now we move into the concerts. Children's Chorus Winter Concert: ----15
They sang with the symphony, too, but I was replaced by an orchestra (imagine!). They sang at the country club; I played (a mere five pieces, there.) Also played a short gig for the Rotary Club; the Chorale sang (three pieces) and, to make up the balance of the time, I played a couple of carols for singing and improvised a piece at the instigation of the impresario. Six more. total, 26.
Mind you, we aren't including rehearsals here. This is just stage time in front of an audience or before a congregation. If we add the rehearsals, we can easily double, if not triple, the total. I'm not adding any parties, either. There weren't so many this year, but it still adds up.
I must be leaving out a gig or two....
Finally, the New Year's Eve concert at the Virginia, which involved The Chorale singing 14 pieces of music. I also played (memory don't fail me now) 6 pieces on the Mighty Wurlitzer before the show and during intermission, also three more for the sing-along, plus Auld Lang Syne at the end. That's 10 on the organ, so a total of 24 pieces for the concert. I think that's a record low, actually. I didn't play for the other act of the evening, an unaccompanied barbershop quartet (they were quite good).
Add in a couple of funerals and a wedding that week also, and you have the month of December.
(let's say about 18 more for those, ball park)
So I'm coming up with....228 different pieces of music (including different arrangements of the same tune) and some repetition in the church services (in which I think I left out all those doxologies...oh well)
It's a low number, and in no way represents the frenzy of activity that was actually experienced at the time (remember those rehearsals? Heck, let's just double the number) and does not include any practice time on my part, or the pieces I recorded for pianonoise.com. Most of the improvised piano pieces, by the way, were recorded in October. Sorry. It's why they exist, though.
I could also break them down by category, as in number of accompaniments, solo pieces, number of singers, instrumentalists, and instruments I played, but I'm not an accountant and this post has already reached sufficient ridicularity. If we totaled up every time I played any piece of music during the month for any purpose whatever, including repetitions, I'm sure we'd be up over 600. But that's just a wild guess.
Let's just say I played a lot of music last month and my fingers are tired.
-----
By the way, this year's recipient of the Most Annoying Carol Award goes to "Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas" which I heard 6 times before Thanksgiving, mostly at the grocery store.
Also, the record for most verses of Silent Night played during a 24 hour period still stands at 25, from the year before the coming of the Worship and Life Center in 2006, when we had four Christmas Eve Services, and Christmas Day was a Sunday. (This doesn't count any rehearsal verses either.)*
*We actually sang Silent Night on Christmas Day, too. I have no idea what our pastor was thinking.
It is bound to be a very inexact count since I don't have all the artifacts necessary for the reconstruction. But let's try, shall we?
Now in a regular weekend at church I play four services. The Saturday evening service only has a prelude, postlude, four hymns (all chosen by the congregation at the time) and a doxology. Seven pieces. Sunday morning at 8am features a prelude, opening hymn, meditation improvisation, solo anthem, prayer response, offertory, closing hymn, and postlude. That's eight more. None of these pieces is likely to be the same as any for Saturday night. Then there is the 9 o'clock service. Usually this consists of about six praise songs (with the band). At 10:30 we have the same line up as 8, except with a full choir and an additional middle hymn (nine more). So, 7+8+6+9=30 pieces, more or less. Not including any rehearsals (which probably means I played at least 8 of those pieces at least twice.)
Ok, 30 a morning times four. 120 pieces of music at church. Don't forget Christmas Eve, now!
I need the bulletins for that one. Well, I can take a wild guess. I'll spare you the calculations.
5pm service:10
7pm service: 11
11pm service:8
I'm not going to break it down into soloists, band, choir, congregational hymns, organ solo pieces, and so on.
However, I just realized that two of those Sundays were special music Sundays. On one of them, at the 10:30 service, the choir sang seven anthems. (Let's add five pieces to our total; take away a couple for no organ offertory and maybe one fewer hymns--I don't think so now, but I'll be conservative anyway.) And the 9am service the following week was a musical with 17 musical cues (I had to know that as I played for all of them), at least 10 of which count as full pieces, and the others represent smaller bits of pieces. Let's say 12, so we'll add six more to that week's count. So, 120+5+6+----Christmas eve=29 total from church services=160
Now we move into the concerts. Children's Chorus Winter Concert: ----15
They sang with the symphony, too, but I was replaced by an orchestra (imagine!). They sang at the country club; I played (a mere five pieces, there.) Also played a short gig for the Rotary Club; the Chorale sang (three pieces) and, to make up the balance of the time, I played a couple of carols for singing and improvised a piece at the instigation of the impresario. Six more. total, 26.
Mind you, we aren't including rehearsals here. This is just stage time in front of an audience or before a congregation. If we add the rehearsals, we can easily double, if not triple, the total. I'm not adding any parties, either. There weren't so many this year, but it still adds up.
I must be leaving out a gig or two....
Finally, the New Year's Eve concert at the Virginia, which involved The Chorale singing 14 pieces of music. I also played (memory don't fail me now) 6 pieces on the Mighty Wurlitzer before the show and during intermission, also three more for the sing-along, plus Auld Lang Syne at the end. That's 10 on the organ, so a total of 24 pieces for the concert. I think that's a record low, actually. I didn't play for the other act of the evening, an unaccompanied barbershop quartet (they were quite good).
Add in a couple of funerals and a wedding that week also, and you have the month of December.
(let's say about 18 more for those, ball park)
So I'm coming up with....228 different pieces of music (including different arrangements of the same tune) and some repetition in the church services (in which I think I left out all those doxologies...oh well)
It's a low number, and in no way represents the frenzy of activity that was actually experienced at the time (remember those rehearsals? Heck, let's just double the number) and does not include any practice time on my part, or the pieces I recorded for pianonoise.com. Most of the improvised piano pieces, by the way, were recorded in October. Sorry. It's why they exist, though.
I could also break them down by category, as in number of accompaniments, solo pieces, number of singers, instrumentalists, and instruments I played, but I'm not an accountant and this post has already reached sufficient ridicularity. If we totaled up every time I played any piece of music during the month for any purpose whatever, including repetitions, I'm sure we'd be up over 600. But that's just a wild guess.
Let's just say I played a lot of music last month and my fingers are tired.
-----
By the way, this year's recipient of the Most Annoying Carol Award goes to "Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas" which I heard 6 times before Thanksgiving, mostly at the grocery store.
Also, the record for most verses of Silent Night played during a 24 hour period still stands at 25, from the year before the coming of the Worship and Life Center in 2006, when we had four Christmas Eve Services, and Christmas Day was a Sunday. (This doesn't count any rehearsal verses either.)*
*We actually sang Silent Night on Christmas Day, too. I have no idea what our pastor was thinking.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Much
Please understand, I'm not complaining.
Well, alright, maybe a little. But it's subtle, and in context. Hear me out.
(Strange and interesting things happen the more you use your brain; when you think about things that you aren't encouraged to think about you can come to some unusual conclusions about them.)
Take, for instance, the so-called parable of the talents. A man goes on a journey and leaves three servants in charge of his finances. To the first he gives 10 talents, which is something in the millions of dollars in today's money, to the second, five, and to the last, a mere million or so--two talents.
If you are familiar with the story, you know how it ends. The first two servants invest the money and manage to double it (must have put it in some pretty risky stocks and gotten lucky). The third hides his and does nothing with it. Not even a passbook savings account.
The first two servants are rewarded upon the master's return, and the third is sent packing. And here's the line I thought about. Speaking to the first two servants in turn, the master declares: because you have been faithful in a few things (there's an understatement; remember it's in the millions)--because you have been faithful in a few things I will put you in charge of more things. Enter the joy of the kingdom!
Happy ending, right? Well, is it?
The reward for faithful service is to have to do it again, only now the stakes are higher? No rest for the faithful, is there?
I'm reminded of another quote, this time from the Hebrew Bible: "To those from whom much is given, much will be required." (which in turn reminds me of my 8th grade English teacher's favorite moment from "A Christmas Carol" (one of them, anyhow)--in which Scrooge asks Marley's ghost what he wants of him, and the answer is simply "much!")
Maybe I'm bringing this up because it is nearing the end of the Christmas rush and I'm pretty tired. It's been going on for a month, now. I remember reading a blog from an organist about fun things you could do for your listeners during the Christmas season with the admonition to start preparing now, and being amused because I had just gotten home from one of our big church services--choir Sunday, which came the day after the Children's Chorus had their big concert. In other words, prepare was hardly the word for it--I was already in the middle of it. And that was early December, which was already two weeks into my annual Christmas rush. Now it's nearly a month later and I'm still not finished.
Well, ok, technically the last holiday related event was our New Year's Eve concert at the Virginia Theater with The Chorale. It's a fun and unique event each year. But I'm worn out, and I'm still not able to rest. That's mostly because we have a wedding tomorrow with special organ music and a funeral about 90 minutes after that, then our Saturday evening church service. And I'm having to pull those pieces completely out of my posterior because at this point there just hasn't been any time to practice until today and now I'm also having to really watch my energy level. There will be naps between everything, I think. I'm spending today on the couch because if I stand up too long I get dizzy. And yet I still haven't gotten sick at all this semester. Is it safe to say I've made it for another year?
The number of concerts or church services or gigs I've taken part in, or more specifically, the number of different talents required to make them all work (from improvisation to sight-reading to skipping beats for singers to schlepping equipment to keeping your head amidst distractions such as when the music falls off the rack) seems overwhelming taken as a whole. They must be experienced in sequence to make them possible--that is, one event at a time, with all that is needed to make it work. I suppose the only reason they happen at all is that because I CAN do all of that I am ASKED to do it. And I like to think that the singers and conductors and actors and pastors who work with me feel secure in having me there to support their efforts as well. It is tiring. But it is a very great privilege. And I am blessed to be able to do it each year. Now as I near the finish line I hope to feel a pleasant sense of exhaustion. And I have received much thanks for it as well.
In fact, the outpouring of thanks and camaraderie I've experienced this holiday season is truly a blessing. And knowing I've been able to use practically every ability I have to make the season brighter for others is the best feeling on earth. And maybe next week, when I've had a chance to process it all, when the rush has finally stopped rushing, I'll get to really enjoy my remembrances of all those things that flew by at the time.
But I seriously need a nap right now!
Well, alright, maybe a little. But it's subtle, and in context. Hear me out.
(Strange and interesting things happen the more you use your brain; when you think about things that you aren't encouraged to think about you can come to some unusual conclusions about them.)
Take, for instance, the so-called parable of the talents. A man goes on a journey and leaves three servants in charge of his finances. To the first he gives 10 talents, which is something in the millions of dollars in today's money, to the second, five, and to the last, a mere million or so--two talents.
If you are familiar with the story, you know how it ends. The first two servants invest the money and manage to double it (must have put it in some pretty risky stocks and gotten lucky). The third hides his and does nothing with it. Not even a passbook savings account.
The first two servants are rewarded upon the master's return, and the third is sent packing. And here's the line I thought about. Speaking to the first two servants in turn, the master declares: because you have been faithful in a few things (there's an understatement; remember it's in the millions)--because you have been faithful in a few things I will put you in charge of more things. Enter the joy of the kingdom!
Happy ending, right? Well, is it?
The reward for faithful service is to have to do it again, only now the stakes are higher? No rest for the faithful, is there?
I'm reminded of another quote, this time from the Hebrew Bible: "To those from whom much is given, much will be required." (which in turn reminds me of my 8th grade English teacher's favorite moment from "A Christmas Carol" (one of them, anyhow)--in which Scrooge asks Marley's ghost what he wants of him, and the answer is simply "much!")
Maybe I'm bringing this up because it is nearing the end of the Christmas rush and I'm pretty tired. It's been going on for a month, now. I remember reading a blog from an organist about fun things you could do for your listeners during the Christmas season with the admonition to start preparing now, and being amused because I had just gotten home from one of our big church services--choir Sunday, which came the day after the Children's Chorus had their big concert. In other words, prepare was hardly the word for it--I was already in the middle of it. And that was early December, which was already two weeks into my annual Christmas rush. Now it's nearly a month later and I'm still not finished.
Well, ok, technically the last holiday related event was our New Year's Eve concert at the Virginia Theater with The Chorale. It's a fun and unique event each year. But I'm worn out, and I'm still not able to rest. That's mostly because we have a wedding tomorrow with special organ music and a funeral about 90 minutes after that, then our Saturday evening church service. And I'm having to pull those pieces completely out of my posterior because at this point there just hasn't been any time to practice until today and now I'm also having to really watch my energy level. There will be naps between everything, I think. I'm spending today on the couch because if I stand up too long I get dizzy. And yet I still haven't gotten sick at all this semester. Is it safe to say I've made it for another year?
The number of concerts or church services or gigs I've taken part in, or more specifically, the number of different talents required to make them all work (from improvisation to sight-reading to skipping beats for singers to schlepping equipment to keeping your head amidst distractions such as when the music falls off the rack) seems overwhelming taken as a whole. They must be experienced in sequence to make them possible--that is, one event at a time, with all that is needed to make it work. I suppose the only reason they happen at all is that because I CAN do all of that I am ASKED to do it. And I like to think that the singers and conductors and actors and pastors who work with me feel secure in having me there to support their efforts as well. It is tiring. But it is a very great privilege. And I am blessed to be able to do it each year. Now as I near the finish line I hope to feel a pleasant sense of exhaustion. And I have received much thanks for it as well.
In fact, the outpouring of thanks and camaraderie I've experienced this holiday season is truly a blessing. And knowing I've been able to use practically every ability I have to make the season brighter for others is the best feeling on earth. And maybe next week, when I've had a chance to process it all, when the rush has finally stopped rushing, I'll get to really enjoy my remembrances of all those things that flew by at the time.
But I seriously need a nap right now!
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Rounding the last turn and heading for home
So how was your Christmas?
Mine was the usual blend of wonderful and stressful, with some bleh thrown in for good measure.
I use the past tense even though it really isn't over yet.
For me, the Christmas season is the most intense, exhausting, demanding time of year. Every organization I work for puts on a great big Christmas show (or two) and every night for at least three weeks I have either a dress rehearsal for something or a concert (or both). There are days when I am supposed to be in two places at once (sometimes three) and have to negotiate who needs me more and how I'm going to manage both (or all three) obligations.
Eventually, things slow down a bit, but even then the marathon aspect of the season can make things especially hard. From the last week of November through early January, life is not normal. It is overdrive all the way.
This year I discovered the importance of the afternoon nap, every day of the week. I'd be embarrassed to say so but if you were me and noticed how much energy I was able to put out every evening, and then again when I practiced in the morning, you'd have to conclude that there is much wisdom in splitting each day into two parts with a rest period between. I can do that because I am rarely required to work in the afternoon. Most of my jobs take place in the evenings and on weekends. So periods of intense concentration and physical energy alternated with absolute stillness and unconsciousness. A bit manic, but it all worked pretty well.
The flaw in the plan became apparent on Christmas Eve, though, when the first service and the preceding two hours of rehearsal were all scheduled at the time my body was used to sleeping every day for the past month--Also, toward the end of the Christmas season in general, when I started getting gigs in the afternoon as well, or various other obligations prevented me from avoiding long periods of unconsciousness.
The Christmas Season for a musician can be thought of like a game show where the stakes get higher and the competition gets harder as you graduate from level to level. It has a marathon aspect to it, which is perhaps the greatest demand. The first two weeks of December--when our church choir and the children's chorus have their big Christmas shows one weekend and the band and choir and drama team at our church have their big hooha the next, surrounded by the Children's concert with the symphony, a few assorted gigs and parties for good measure, and the Chorale has stepped up rehearsals (three hours, usually, plus extras) for their New Year's Eve concert--are followed by decreasing amounts of time before the next gig with a completely different program, a flagging energy level, fewer ways to get rest, and so on. The ability to fake all kinds of things you haven't practiced is one way to survive it all, but it takes every talent a musician can have to negotiate all the various demands of the season.
I still haven't counted up how many pieces of music we had on Christmas Eve. I haven't found time.
Some of these required sight-reading or near sight-reading skills, some playing from lead sheets, on the spot transposition, improvisation, stage managing skills, going from style to style and instrument to instrument---but you know what, this is all making me tired. I'll elaborate on this over the next year and those of you who are musicians yourselves may find it useful for surviving your own whirlwind.
It's the usual assortment, really, just more of it every year in December. I try to remember what a privilege it is to be able to bring a bit of Christmas to so many so often. And it really is a wonderful time of year. But as a child I was taught to consume it's magic just like the rest of you, so I supposed I get a bit jealous when it turns out to be so much work. And exhaustion affects anybody's mood.
The crazy thing is that, anymore, I can't have Christmas without the insanity it's become. The joy of the season won't happen except in the midst of all the rush. I don't get one without the other. That seems like it ought to be some kind of zen koan.
And each year, I try to be a bit more "zen" about Christmas. Figure that out.
Mine was the usual blend of wonderful and stressful, with some bleh thrown in for good measure.
I use the past tense even though it really isn't over yet.
For me, the Christmas season is the most intense, exhausting, demanding time of year. Every organization I work for puts on a great big Christmas show (or two) and every night for at least three weeks I have either a dress rehearsal for something or a concert (or both). There are days when I am supposed to be in two places at once (sometimes three) and have to negotiate who needs me more and how I'm going to manage both (or all three) obligations.
Eventually, things slow down a bit, but even then the marathon aspect of the season can make things especially hard. From the last week of November through early January, life is not normal. It is overdrive all the way.
This year I discovered the importance of the afternoon nap, every day of the week. I'd be embarrassed to say so but if you were me and noticed how much energy I was able to put out every evening, and then again when I practiced in the morning, you'd have to conclude that there is much wisdom in splitting each day into two parts with a rest period between. I can do that because I am rarely required to work in the afternoon. Most of my jobs take place in the evenings and on weekends. So periods of intense concentration and physical energy alternated with absolute stillness and unconsciousness. A bit manic, but it all worked pretty well.
The flaw in the plan became apparent on Christmas Eve, though, when the first service and the preceding two hours of rehearsal were all scheduled at the time my body was used to sleeping every day for the past month--Also, toward the end of the Christmas season in general, when I started getting gigs in the afternoon as well, or various other obligations prevented me from avoiding long periods of unconsciousness.
The Christmas Season for a musician can be thought of like a game show where the stakes get higher and the competition gets harder as you graduate from level to level. It has a marathon aspect to it, which is perhaps the greatest demand. The first two weeks of December--when our church choir and the children's chorus have their big Christmas shows one weekend and the band and choir and drama team at our church have their big hooha the next, surrounded by the Children's concert with the symphony, a few assorted gigs and parties for good measure, and the Chorale has stepped up rehearsals (three hours, usually, plus extras) for their New Year's Eve concert--are followed by decreasing amounts of time before the next gig with a completely different program, a flagging energy level, fewer ways to get rest, and so on. The ability to fake all kinds of things you haven't practiced is one way to survive it all, but it takes every talent a musician can have to negotiate all the various demands of the season.
I still haven't counted up how many pieces of music we had on Christmas Eve. I haven't found time.
Some of these required sight-reading or near sight-reading skills, some playing from lead sheets, on the spot transposition, improvisation, stage managing skills, going from style to style and instrument to instrument---but you know what, this is all making me tired. I'll elaborate on this over the next year and those of you who are musicians yourselves may find it useful for surviving your own whirlwind.
It's the usual assortment, really, just more of it every year in December. I try to remember what a privilege it is to be able to bring a bit of Christmas to so many so often. And it really is a wonderful time of year. But as a child I was taught to consume it's magic just like the rest of you, so I supposed I get a bit jealous when it turns out to be so much work. And exhaustion affects anybody's mood.
The crazy thing is that, anymore, I can't have Christmas without the insanity it's become. The joy of the season won't happen except in the midst of all the rush. I don't get one without the other. That seems like it ought to be some kind of zen koan.
And each year, I try to be a bit more "zen" about Christmas. Figure that out.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Seven things I learned from the Norad Santa Tracker
My wife thought I was a little bit cracked, but she humored me. This Christmas Eve I kept a close and fascinated eye on the Norad Santa tracker.
If you've not heard of it, let me catch you up. In 1955, one company decided to advertise in the newspaper that kids could call in and talk to Santa Claus 24/7. The number they published was off by one digit. It actually (and I am completely not making this up)--it was actually a very restricted number for a senior officer at the command center for the North American Aerospace Defense Command or NORAD (this is where they launch the nuclear missiles, kids!). The commander who answered the phone from the first kid asking to talk to Santa Claus wasn't very pleased. Apparently he made the kid cry.
Eventually he decided to play along, and a Christmas tradition was born. Every year, some people at Norad would do what Norad would do best in such a situation (beside shooting Santa out of the sky should he forget to receive permission to enter U.S. airspace before delivering the presents) which was to tell the kids where Santa had last been spotted and where he was off to next, making good use of their sophisticated tracking equipment. A few years ago, Santa got on the internet, and now you can watch him as he makes his trek across the world, zigzagging up and down, gradually making his way east to west. There is a map of the world below, with major cities and geographic points of interest marked, and you can see Santa's sleigh, naturally led by Rudolph and the elite eight, soaring high above an image of our planet brought to you by quite a number of mapping services, all working together in the spirit of the season (and good publicity). If you play with the buttons you can see him from different angles as well. It's quite a production.
I made a few comments on Facebook about the enterprise, one of which was that the Norad Santa Tracker was another way for Americans to learn geography. Some smart fellow once snarkily suggested that war was the method by which Americans learned about their world, but here, I thought, was another. Which is my first point.
1) If, like most of us, you don't spend much time thinking about the world at large, this is a chance to do it. While you are waiting for Santa to get to your little neck of the woods, you have time to notice just what all else is out there. There is a great deal of ocean, for one, and a whole lot of desert, and mountains, and places with no vegetation. There is a lot of inhospitable terrain, basically. A whole lot of it. And if you've forgotten where half the places on the news are, this is a way to remember. The Santa Tracker could be an excellent crash course in where all of those cities are that you only hear about when there is an epic disaster.
2) As I mentioned, it isn't just the places inhabited by humans that are noticeable. As Santa makes each delivery, two places are on the screen: where Santa was last seen and where he is going next (as well as his ETA to get there). As I wrote on Facebook, "I didn't realize he delivered presents to the Amazon Rain Forest. Some tree frog must have been really good this year." If you're like me, you have no idea about Santa's methodology, nor how he could possibly cover all that terrain on 24 hours. Now you have no excuse not to know.
3) In many ways, Santa is just as ignorant as the rest of us. Most of us come out of the womb assuming that all life and all experience matches our own, and don't have much tolerance for people with other traditions and ideas. Apparently Santa is also blissfully unaware of the diversity of the earth's peoples. As he traversed the globe on the evening of the 24th of December, I watched him deliver presents to a number of places where I was sure the populace wouldn't want them: even though there is a Christian minority in many of these places I doubt they would appreciate the attention, nor would they even welcome such an display of gifts. And the Christian world itself is divided on the matter of timing. For the Eastern Orthodox world, Santa is a few weeks early, since Christmas comes to them on January 7th. In parts of Europe, Santa is three weeks late, St. Nicholas Day having passed on December 6th, when presents are given. I could see Santa wanting to get it all over with on one day, but given that it is such a gargantuan task, I wondered if he would really mind parceling it out (sorry). And it would be better customer relations than forcing one practice on everyone.
4) Santa is one lucky b----d. I noticed that Santa flew over a number of war zones; how can one with his mission avoid it? I grew white knuckled for him each time. I spent quite a lot of Christmas Eve working, and missed seeing Santa fly over the Ukraine, or Afghanistan. I did catch him delivering presents to the South Sudan. I remember him flying over Saudi Arabia, as well. I am a little surprised he was not taken out by a surface to air missile in any of the earth's "conflict" regions. If he has a way to defend against these, it is unknown to me. Not to mention he had to land in each one of these places a number of times, though the Santa tracker did not show us these (probably for security reasons).
5) Santa skipped Baltimore. I lived there for a decade and grew to appreciate our civic inferiority complex. I also noted how often we were ignored by people from the rest of the nation. My own friends and family kept asking how Boston was. Even the media at large routinely forgot about us. I remember a major snow storm with reports coming in from every major city on the east coast except Baltimore. So I'm not really surprised that Santa flew from D.C. through parts of Pennsylvania (State College, for Pete's sake!) and on to Delaware and New Jersey.
6) Apparently if you aren't in bed by 10:30 Santa will pass you by. I was surprised to see how early Santa got to parts of America. Given that most of Florida probably goes to bed by 5, I didn't think that would be much of a problem. But I had always assumed he waited until around midnight just to make sure he didn't run into any night owls. I suppose he came through Champaign while we were at the 11 o'clock service at our church. When I went to bed he was delivering to western Canada. I suppose if you want to make the whole thing work you can't be too picky about when. The Cable guy has the same window and far fewer stops to make, so I'll cut him some slack. Plus the milk is less likely to curdle that way.
7) Santa helps me think of my friends. I know people from several parts of the world, it turns out, and though I missed at least half of Santa's delivery, I noted on several occasions that Santa was delivering presents to my friends in far off places. That gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. I hope they liked what Santa got them.
I went to bed before Santa made it out to the Pacific, and missed what time he finished up. I can tell you, because I couldn't sleep the night before, that takeoff is 6am Eastern Time (noon UTC?). I hope that information doesn't compromise his flight path for next year. You can never be too sure.
If you've not heard of it, let me catch you up. In 1955, one company decided to advertise in the newspaper that kids could call in and talk to Santa Claus 24/7. The number they published was off by one digit. It actually (and I am completely not making this up)--it was actually a very restricted number for a senior officer at the command center for the North American Aerospace Defense Command or NORAD (this is where they launch the nuclear missiles, kids!). The commander who answered the phone from the first kid asking to talk to Santa Claus wasn't very pleased. Apparently he made the kid cry.
Eventually he decided to play along, and a Christmas tradition was born. Every year, some people at Norad would do what Norad would do best in such a situation (beside shooting Santa out of the sky should he forget to receive permission to enter U.S. airspace before delivering the presents) which was to tell the kids where Santa had last been spotted and where he was off to next, making good use of their sophisticated tracking equipment. A few years ago, Santa got on the internet, and now you can watch him as he makes his trek across the world, zigzagging up and down, gradually making his way east to west. There is a map of the world below, with major cities and geographic points of interest marked, and you can see Santa's sleigh, naturally led by Rudolph and the elite eight, soaring high above an image of our planet brought to you by quite a number of mapping services, all working together in the spirit of the season (and good publicity). If you play with the buttons you can see him from different angles as well. It's quite a production.
I made a few comments on Facebook about the enterprise, one of which was that the Norad Santa Tracker was another way for Americans to learn geography. Some smart fellow once snarkily suggested that war was the method by which Americans learned about their world, but here, I thought, was another. Which is my first point.
1) If, like most of us, you don't spend much time thinking about the world at large, this is a chance to do it. While you are waiting for Santa to get to your little neck of the woods, you have time to notice just what all else is out there. There is a great deal of ocean, for one, and a whole lot of desert, and mountains, and places with no vegetation. There is a lot of inhospitable terrain, basically. A whole lot of it. And if you've forgotten where half the places on the news are, this is a way to remember. The Santa Tracker could be an excellent crash course in where all of those cities are that you only hear about when there is an epic disaster.
2) As I mentioned, it isn't just the places inhabited by humans that are noticeable. As Santa makes each delivery, two places are on the screen: where Santa was last seen and where he is going next (as well as his ETA to get there). As I wrote on Facebook, "I didn't realize he delivered presents to the Amazon Rain Forest. Some tree frog must have been really good this year." If you're like me, you have no idea about Santa's methodology, nor how he could possibly cover all that terrain on 24 hours. Now you have no excuse not to know.
3) In many ways, Santa is just as ignorant as the rest of us. Most of us come out of the womb assuming that all life and all experience matches our own, and don't have much tolerance for people with other traditions and ideas. Apparently Santa is also blissfully unaware of the diversity of the earth's peoples. As he traversed the globe on the evening of the 24th of December, I watched him deliver presents to a number of places where I was sure the populace wouldn't want them: even though there is a Christian minority in many of these places I doubt they would appreciate the attention, nor would they even welcome such an display of gifts. And the Christian world itself is divided on the matter of timing. For the Eastern Orthodox world, Santa is a few weeks early, since Christmas comes to them on January 7th. In parts of Europe, Santa is three weeks late, St. Nicholas Day having passed on December 6th, when presents are given. I could see Santa wanting to get it all over with on one day, but given that it is such a gargantuan task, I wondered if he would really mind parceling it out (sorry). And it would be better customer relations than forcing one practice on everyone.
4) Santa is one lucky b----d. I noticed that Santa flew over a number of war zones; how can one with his mission avoid it? I grew white knuckled for him each time. I spent quite a lot of Christmas Eve working, and missed seeing Santa fly over the Ukraine, or Afghanistan. I did catch him delivering presents to the South Sudan. I remember him flying over Saudi Arabia, as well. I am a little surprised he was not taken out by a surface to air missile in any of the earth's "conflict" regions. If he has a way to defend against these, it is unknown to me. Not to mention he had to land in each one of these places a number of times, though the Santa tracker did not show us these (probably for security reasons).
5) Santa skipped Baltimore. I lived there for a decade and grew to appreciate our civic inferiority complex. I also noted how often we were ignored by people from the rest of the nation. My own friends and family kept asking how Boston was. Even the media at large routinely forgot about us. I remember a major snow storm with reports coming in from every major city on the east coast except Baltimore. So I'm not really surprised that Santa flew from D.C. through parts of Pennsylvania (State College, for Pete's sake!) and on to Delaware and New Jersey.
6) Apparently if you aren't in bed by 10:30 Santa will pass you by. I was surprised to see how early Santa got to parts of America. Given that most of Florida probably goes to bed by 5, I didn't think that would be much of a problem. But I had always assumed he waited until around midnight just to make sure he didn't run into any night owls. I suppose he came through Champaign while we were at the 11 o'clock service at our church. When I went to bed he was delivering to western Canada. I suppose if you want to make the whole thing work you can't be too picky about when. The Cable guy has the same window and far fewer stops to make, so I'll cut him some slack. Plus the milk is less likely to curdle that way.
7) Santa helps me think of my friends. I know people from several parts of the world, it turns out, and though I missed at least half of Santa's delivery, I noted on several occasions that Santa was delivering presents to my friends in far off places. That gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. I hope they liked what Santa got them.
I went to bed before Santa made it out to the Pacific, and missed what time he finished up. I can tell you, because I couldn't sleep the night before, that takeoff is 6am Eastern Time (noon UTC?). I hope that information doesn't compromise his flight path for next year. You can never be too sure.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Who's telling the story?
Each Christmas a little drama unfolds atop our entertainment center. To you it may be just the same old Christmas story, with some people in a barn having a baby and a cast of handfuls looking on adoringly. Well, it may be the same old boring story to you, but it depends on how you tell it. We start with an empty stable.
There's nothing particularly unusual about having some (or all) of your characters arrive throughout the season of Advent, leading up to Christmas, although I suspect most of us just put everybody in there and get it over with. Letting everyone arrive on their own timetable puts the story in motion, and gives it a beginning, middle, and end.
True, it's a pretty conventional structure, and, if you've been through the season enough times it can get a little stale. Starting with the holy family, adding a couple of sheep (last year I think they were the first to arrive, actually) and a shepherd, a random villager or two, and finally a trio of wisepersons just in time for Christmas Eve; it's a nice discipline in gradual evolution and waiting, but you can also use a calendar to the same purpose. Even the two-inch characters seem to get bored. Then things start to happen.
For instance, no sooner did the wiseguys arrive but they suddenly remembered they forgot to do something at home. Or Mary sent them off to boil water.
Don't worry--they got back in time. Plenty of time. This was Mary's first baby so it took a while. So what do you do while you wait? Remember, the wisemen like to look at stars. Since Bethlehem apparently did not have an observatory, they did the next best thing, which was to go up on the roof. By the way, kids, it is not recommended to climb to the roof of your house and look directly at a supernova.
At one point, there was a game of sheep hoisting. I am afraid to ask, but I think the shepherd may be attempting to knock the other sheep off the roof for points by launching the other sheep into him. I think the wisemen put him up to it. Entertainment is difficult in 1st century Palestine where there is no football.
It is not all fun and games, of course. Everybody has to get in a line so they can take turns holding the baby. When it is time to go, everybody is sad. Wave to the wiseguys, kids!
We wouldn't want to argue with received wisdom--surely getting there IS half the fun. But it clearly isn't all the fun. Still, it can be a challenge.
Last year there was a new wrinkle in the story. My wife put up the stable, and the various characters in our drama were again positioned offstage, so that they could gradually arrive a few days at a time during Advent. But there was a new problem.
Our storage unit has four stories. And some of the personnel were placed on lower levels. Anybody looking at this could see the logic problem in asking those folks to simply walk over to the stable and take part in the pageant. Obviously two inch high figurines make of paper and cloth have to obey the same laws of physics as the rest of us. Duh.
There were only a few days left until the big event. The three kings from the east sweated. They paced. They conferenced. And they came up with a plan.
One morning my wife woke up to find the kings climbing their way to glory and a part in the play:
Once all three of them were safely to the top, they kindly lowered the rope so Random Peasant Woman with Son #1 could also join the festivities. Wasn't that swell of them?
There was a joyous reunion.
The last to arrive was the reindeer. Everybody knows clothespin reindeer with red felt noses can fly, so this one was easy.
From:josephmary438@hotmail.com
To:michael@pianonoise.com
Cc:sheperds@hillsnearbethlehem.com,wiseguys@the_east.net
Sent: Saturday, December 20, 2014 4:06 AM
Subject: Re: stable for rent
Dear Dr. Hammer,
My name is Mary. My husband and I are looking for a nice barn for a few days and noticed that you seem to have one available. We are only a couple of inches tall, and we don't play loud music or anything. We have with us three kings and a shepherd. They also keep to themselves and don't listen to loud music. Do you allow animals? We also have a couple of sheep. We will clean up after them; their poop is probably so small to you that you wouldn't notice it anyhow. We really like the pictures you have on your entertainment center and hope we will have some like that when we can afford it. Unfortunately, the inns around here are really expensive. We tried the one next door but they said they are full. Could you please let us have a place to stay until Dec. 26th?
Mary and Joseph
p.s. Do you have a cat? We will stay with you regardless, but we are hoping not. Our sheep had accidents last year by falling off the cliff and we are sure they are not suicidal.
I dutifully forwarded this to my wife, and she agreed they could stay with us. The response was effusive:
----- Forwarded Message -----
From:josephmary438@hotmail.comTo:michael@pianonoise.com
Cc:sheperds@hillsnearbethlehem.com,wiseguys@the_east.net
Sent: Saturday, December 21, 2014 3:09 PM
Subject: Re: stable for rent
Dear Dr. Hammer,
That sounds wonderful! Thank you so much for your generosity this holiday season. My husband and I will move in right away. We will probably see you tomorrow. Again, thanks so much!
Mary
On December 20, Michael wrote:
From:michael@pianonoise.com
To:josephmary438@hotmail.com
Cc:sheperds@hillsnearbethlehem.com,wiseguys@the_east.net
Sent: Saturday, December 20, 2014 7:45 PM
Subject: Re: stable for rent
Dear Mary and Joseph,
We would love to have you come and stay with us. You can come as soon as you want and stay through Epiphany. We do have a cat, but he is not as much of a climber as he was in his younger days, so your sheep will probably be safe, although if they fall to their deaths, we can reincarnate them and put them back in the stable for you: no worries. Also, the sheep poop is no problem. A little Pledge at the end of the holiday season will take care of it, I'm sure. See you soon!
Michael
Well, sort of.
Take a bow, cast people!
Friday, December 13, 2013
Roar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This has nothing whatsoever with organ playing, being a church organist, being a musician, anything having to do with the piano or any other vaguely musical device. Well, there is a first time for everything.
I'm not the sort of person who looks forward to very many holiday traditions. A lot of traditions happen because people are just too busy to do anything new and fall back on what they did last year because it is easier. A good deal of what we do at our church falls into this category. We even sing the same three Christmas carols on Christmas Eve every year. I try to play something different on the organ or the piano every year; change things up a bit. Not to mention that there are tons to the 85th power of music--even good music--for Christmas.
But here's one thing that I do enjoy every year. Not the Christmas carol parodies, or the Night Before Christmas parodies, or all the radio stations playing Sleigh Ride 45 times a day for a month and a half. It's something our Bible study group does the last week of the semester. We go to the local Toys (reverse R) Us and boy toys for kids who might not get any this year because their families are on hard times.
It's kind of fun. We mill around the star, a half dozen youngish adults, having fun playing with the toys, making sarcastic comments about some of the latest and greatest, glad to see the classics are still around, trying to choose the right toy for purchase this year. It's funny how you end up trying to get the perfect toy for someone you will never meet.
One year it was a soccer ball. I think I got a stuffed bear another year. I took a pass on the remote control shark that floats through the air and scare people who come around the corner. That was way out of my budget. But it was so cool!
This year I went with a dinosaur. Not just any dinosaur, mind you. This one was over two feet tall! With a very pink tongue! And scary all the same, even if he had just swallowed a vat of Pepto Bismol.
I vowed I would get a smart gift, like a puzzle or a chess set, the next time. For an older, perhaps brainy, child. But in the meantime I got to sneak up on people and roar at them. Yeah, I know. Very dignified. Funny, I don't actually remember being that enchanted with dinosaurs when I was four. Maybe I'm making up for it.
There were seven of us on this little adventure and we got quite a diversity of toys, as you can see below. I, as the photographer, am not pictured. But I let my dinosaur stand in for me. He's third from the right. I know he doesn't look very scary in the picture, but just you be traveling down some dark alley late at night and find him out looking for a midnight snack!
Of course, we had to part with our gifts as soon as we paid for them. They go in a large bin at the front of the store. My dinosaur hadn't even gotten a name yet. I guess I'll leave that to the recipient. Then I got a sad lesson about dignity. It doesn't last long. There was my mighty, scary dinosaur, robbed of his, the mighty T-Rex, king of exactly nothing, stuffed into a plastic bag, laying on his side, only the feet sticking out!
Sooner or later it happens to all of us. I hope my dinosaur had a sense of humor about it.
Then we went next store to the Barnes and Noble, looked around a bit, ordered drinks at the in-store Starbucks, where I had my annual Peppermint Mocha, the only thing I order at Starbucks all year, usually. And we hung around, in conversation until closing time, when they basically kicked us out! That's also part of the tradition.
We've been at this for eight or nine years now. In a couple of years we'll move away. But it's a nice holiday tradition while it lasts.
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