Thanksgiving ratings, children will listen!

 Dear you,

Inspired by (stealing) something John Green did in his Anthropocene:  Reviewed, my Thanksgiving thoughts feature the star rating schemata.  I am only sharing the best and the worst, the five stars and the one standout zero star.  Here we go:

Tiptoe the Reindeer – The sweet gal was featured in this year’s Macy’s Day Parade.  Absolutely precious; made me think about Bambi and other little critters trying to get their legs and bearings in our mean old world.  Even if Tiptoe is synthetic, she ruled the parade, vanquishing creepy high-flyers like Ronald McDonald and Pillsbury Doughboy.  They're troubling. She's adorable. I give Tiptoe a misty-eyed 5 stars.

The NFL on Thanksgiving Day – I don’t even remember who played, I just know it was great to have professional football on the screen, a far better option than Hallmark channel’s sanitary Christmas movies and other “family fare”.  I do recall the contests were fun to watch and no one got hurt.  The boys of autumn entertained and diverted with excellence as I sipped multiple cocktails. I give the T-day pro-football shows a tipsy 5 stars.

Chinese food for Thanksgiving dinner – Why turkey and dressing? Nothing wrong with the traditional meal, but what I really love is Asian food, any kind. My favorite restaurant gifted me with lo mein, eggrolls, and fried rice.  Microwavable for warm-ups and delicious, Asian cuisine should be the new feast for the 21^st Century special occasion table.  Reject the norm and eat what you crave!  I give Chinese Food on holidays an energized, fueled but not full 5 stars.

The Unknown Visiting Family Across the Landing – Even though high-season is technically over, holidays are still busy in the condo complex. I was prepared for the worse and awaited the invasion. The folks under my feet arrived, totally civilized.  Check.  Next, a small white car pulled up and mom, pop, and child exited, entering the unit across the landing without drama.  Too good to be true?  Perhaps.  Shortly after, a big minivan (oxymoron) pulled up and a huge clan (men, women, children, infants in arms) poured out in clown-car fashion.  Oh, good lord.  However, to my surprise, their move-in was drama-free too.  During their stay, they were out and about a lot and when here, they kept the kiddies under control.  No door slamming.  No tantrums.  No blasting music. No stinky cooking smells.  No garbage bags outside their door.  Wow.  I give this chill extended family an appreciative, well-rested 5 stars.

Music – Two geniuses were with me this week, Ludwig van Beethoven and Stephen Sondheim. Sondheim died a few days ago.  Ludwig has been gone a while.  Both dead.  But not. Their magic remains. During a particularly stress-ball day, I played (for the millionth time in my life) Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, his Symphony No. 9.   You hear it, don’t you?  A classic for a reason, the lilt, and yes, the joy! This was Beethoven’s last symphony and the only one with singing.  Lyrics and music sublime.  Then I got the news about Sondheim. The great composer-lyricist, gone.  His melodies and words go through my head all the time. Sometimes I get the notes and lyrics wrong, but they’re there in my jukebox of a brain.  I hear bits of “Children Will Listen”:  Guide them along the way/Children will glisten/Children will look to you for which way to turn/ To learn what to be/Careful before you say, listen to me/Children will listen. 

Yes, they will.  Masters Beethoven and Sondheim, I humbly offer you a grateful 5 stars.  (I can’t believe I made these gentlemen share list space with a plastic reindeer and spicy noodles, but my intentions were good.)

Now, on to that final item, the zero-star rating: 

Twisted Celebrations – See Kyle, the guest of honor at a Florida diner.  People gathered to celebrate his “innocence”.  What did they say to this kid during the meal?  What was said to him before he committed murder? Who was Kyle listening to?  Who is he listening to now?  Sondheim said it, children will listen.  Kyle was listening. Not glistening. This picture, this celebration, makes me incredibly sad.  I give it (greasy laminate menus and white nationalist chit-chat included) absolutely 0 stars.

End.

Thank you Tiptoe, thank you NFL, thank you New Jin Jin, thank you Beethoven and Sondheim. 

And thank you, John Green. 

XO

Joyce

But, And . . .

Dear you,

Another Sunday, but . . .

Bright sun on the coast and crisp air, cool at last.  It’s an NFL fun day, but . . . my mind keeps going somewhere not so fun.  The Seahawks-Packers game is on, snow swirls on the screen, happy fans wear cheese hats cheering for Aaron Rodgers, their hero returned.  Oh, yeah, that guy.  The anti-vax-now-I-have-Covid man who no doubt spread the virus to unwitting contacts.  My preference for the Seahawks aside, his presence on my screen bummed me out.  It’s just a game; I never really had a beef with this athlete before, but . . .

I had to work hard to get back to that fun day feeling.  Forget Aaron.  Look at those cheeseheads!  Adorable.  Cheese themed cowboy hats, cheese themed hard hats, and plain old cheese wedges just being cheesy, bopping up and down on the heads of those loyal fans.  They love their Wisconsin team, but . . .

Wisconsin. The trial of Kyle Rittenhouse.  A deranged judge setting up the prosecution for failure on so many levels.  Doe-eyed Kyle is guilty of the worst, murder for fame; he wanted to be the “hero” his death cult followers admire.  He got what he wanted.  I can’t blame the entire snowy, whimsical, cheesy state of Wisconsin for whatever decision that jury will reach, but . . .

Let it go.  It’s fun day.  Check out the latest on Twitter.  Laugh with the supporters of Big Bird in the Cruz V. Sesame Street war.  Check out the latest antics of Marjorie Taylor Greene.  She tweets her devotion to the holy book, photographed with a giant prop version of that text, blabbing about how long it took her to read the thing cover to cover.  In the shot, we also see her unfortunate, predictable décor, a wall of crosses, crucifixion as a design choice. A cross adorned wall usually wouldn’t irk me, but . . .

Another Sunday.  I bring it to a close by re-reading bits of wisdom from one of my holy books.  I am reminded by Marcus Aurelius not to degrade my soul by caring about other people’s motives, their guilt, innocence, guile or purity.  I am told to be undisturbed and concentrate on myself, the perfection of what is mine to perfect; I haven’t graduated from the Aurelius school of stoic wisdom yet, but . . .

I love the way the Packers connect with their fans, the way Wisconsin snow swirls and cheese hats bop with joy, the way Kyle’s prosecutor won’t give up, the way religious iconography can be artful and even sexy like:

(Sorry, Marjorie.  80's Madonna would annihilate you in a CrossFit contest.) And I love the way we all want something we can’t quite name.

The point is I just keep trying to not have my head messed with on a daily basis by whatever, well, messes with my head, but . . .  since demented judges, the Arrons, the Kyles, and the Marjories aren’t going anywhere, I must see it as it is and stay steady.  I can do that by making a rhetorical adjustment that affects my frame of mind:

It’s not about “but”.  It’s all about “and”.

This and that.  Good and bad.  Both just are. 

Finally, slowly, stoically when possible, I’m catching on and catching up with everybody who knows this already.

Love AND kisses,

Joyce

 

We Want Wings

 

Dear you, a brief post for the week that was:

You heard the news about the Brazilian baby born with a tail.  That story got as much digital ink as this week’s political traumas. I confess, to take a break from thinking about anything relevant, I clicked a link to a New York Post piece summing up the tail-tale.  I learned this happens sometimes, rarely, but sometimes.  The tail the baby boy sported is normally absorbed as we develop in the womb, turning magically into our tailbone.  Still curious, I googled the tailbone topic and got sucked into other questions about our evolving bodies:

“Can humans grow wings?”

“Why do humans have no fur?”

“Could a person grow feathers?”

“Will we evolve into crabs?”

“Can humans evolve with gills?”

That last question begged for a click.  A bit from the www.dailymail.co.uk article:

“Webbed feet, cat’s eyes and gills:  [These] Features are just some that humans could evolve to have to deal with a ‘water world’ due to global warming.  Humans may evolve bizarre features such as webbed feet and eyes like cats in response to changing environments. . .”

Evolution = survival.  Adapt or die. Or we could just nip global warming in the bud.  

Now, we have a shot at that.  At last, we can say it: Happy Infrastructure Week!  Finally. The trillion-dollar infrastructure bill passed this week aims to halt the heat, the melt, and the methane with innovative transportation, technology, and energy plans.  And we (you know who we are) are happy. We don’t want webbed feet, fins, or tails.  So de-volutionary. 

We want wings.

HAPPY INFRASTRUCTURE WEEK!

That's all.

Joyce