Spent a couple of days in a million dollar house last week. Oh, the house itself was not so hot. In fact, it was pretty run down. Among other things, it could have used a good cleaning, you couldn't use the fireplace, the TV was flaky, the WiFi was even more so, the heat in the bathroom wouldn't come on, the ice maker didn't, and it sure could have benefited from more wattage, light-wise.
But you know what they say about real estate. Location. Location. Location! This house is nestled in the dunes overlooking the Pacific Ocean near Monterey Bay, California, so that's why Steve, the owner, got to pay a cool million for one-third of a smallish run down triplex. Maybe it wasn't run down when Steve bought it, but we do know he paid a mill for his share; Jason looked it up on the tax records. We, of course, paid somewhat less than a million dollars for our brief usage of the house. Somewhat.
This year we had a hybrid Christmas, with some of the kids and grands coming to see us, and then we ended up going to be with the other set of kids and grands. Some years are like that. And Barb said, "If we are going to California, I want to go to the beach!" The No-Port-A dilemma has been hard on her. I keep reminding her that it's a lot worse for the people who live (or used to live) there, but this does not seem to appease her.
So I said "You and Julie work out the details and we'll go to the coast while we're there." and that's how we ended up staying in a million dollar house on a prime California beach.
See if I ever say that again!
To be honest, the house rental was not that bad, but then there's the Cleaning fee, and the Usage fee and the Non-usage fee, and a bunch of other fees, not to mention the taxes and such.
But it was worth it when she got to say, "Now this is a beach."
Monday, January 8, 2018
Monday, January 1, 2018
Monday Meanderings - 1.1.2018
Let me be among the very first to wish each of you a Happy New Year. That assumes that you were not - like I was not - among the revelers who stayed up to welcome in 2018 a few hours ago. My wish for you is that the new year far surpasses the old year in grace, peace and prosperity.
A bit of nostalgia and looking back - way back - as we get ready to face the new year, if I may.
I am a member of a Facebook group labeled "Remember In Breckenridge" and the posts are most often pictures of long-gone business establishments and now much-older people in my hometown in North central Texas. These postings invoke comments like "I remember that (cafe/service station/grocery store), but wasn't it across from (some other location)?"
A recent post was a link to a very well-done YouTube video made up of photos and recordings from a visit by the Breckenridge Boys' Choir to the White House in 1962.
I was a member of the Breckenridge Boys' Choir at its formation some 10 years earlier (long before they gained the reputation that would get them invited to the White House). Gwen Dean, an accomplished organist and choir director in Breckenridge, was familiar with the popular European concept of a chorus featuring the pure soprano of young boys whose voices had not yet changed with puberty.
Her model was the Vienna Boys' Choir that dated to the middle ages. I'm guessing that that Gwen was a woman of great vision if she held to that model while working with the likes of me and my choir mates in less-than culturally developed Breckenridge, Texas.
The "Remember In Breckenridge" YouTube clip features a montage of photos of the choir during the visit to Washington and of the performance for President and Mrs. Kennedy, as well as the welcome by the President and the entirety of the program they presented. It's a nice video, but I mostly skimmed it - this took place some 8 years after I was a member and apart from Mrs. Dean, I didn't know... Wait! Was that Richard Wood in that photo? Yes, and there's Marjorie!
I quickly checked the roster of performers, and there was Steve Wood, listed as a Tenor (by that time, the group had expanded to a more traditional choir; there was not an endless supply of pre-pubescent boys in Breckenridge, Texas).
Richard and Marjorie, and their children, Steve and Connie, were close family friends; the initial relationship was through the little church we attended and later included vacationing together in camping trips across the western portion of the United States. Connie and Steve were just a few years younger and we had a ball on those trips.
At one camp in Yellowstone, after we had wandered down to the village one evening, Steve ran ahead of us, playfully shouting, "There's a bear in our camp!" Moments later he came zooming back, screaming, "There IS A BEAR in our camp!" Mr. Bear made off with only some lunch meat when Pops and Richard shooed him away. I think Steve and I were up a tree at that point.
Great memories of good friends.
A bit of nostalgia and looking back - way back - as we get ready to face the new year, if I may.
I am a member of a Facebook group labeled "Remember In Breckenridge" and the posts are most often pictures of long-gone business establishments and now much-older people in my hometown in North central Texas. These postings invoke comments like "I remember that (cafe/service station/grocery store), but wasn't it across from (some other location)?"
A recent post was a link to a very well-done YouTube video made up of photos and recordings from a visit by the Breckenridge Boys' Choir to the White House in 1962.
I was a member of the Breckenridge Boys' Choir at its formation some 10 years earlier (long before they gained the reputation that would get them invited to the White House). Gwen Dean, an accomplished organist and choir director in Breckenridge, was familiar with the popular European concept of a chorus featuring the pure soprano of young boys whose voices had not yet changed with puberty.
Her model was the Vienna Boys' Choir that dated to the middle ages. I'm guessing that that Gwen was a woman of great vision if she held to that model while working with the likes of me and my choir mates in less-than culturally developed Breckenridge, Texas.
The "Remember In Breckenridge" YouTube clip features a montage of photos of the choir during the visit to Washington and of the performance for President and Mrs. Kennedy, as well as the welcome by the President and the entirety of the program they presented. It's a nice video, but I mostly skimmed it - this took place some 8 years after I was a member and apart from Mrs. Dean, I didn't know... Wait! Was that Richard Wood in that photo? Yes, and there's Marjorie!
I quickly checked the roster of performers, and there was Steve Wood, listed as a Tenor (by that time, the group had expanded to a more traditional choir; there was not an endless supply of pre-pubescent boys in Breckenridge, Texas).
Richard and Marjorie, and their children, Steve and Connie, were close family friends; the initial relationship was through the little church we attended and later included vacationing together in camping trips across the western portion of the United States. Connie and Steve were just a few years younger and we had a ball on those trips.
At one camp in Yellowstone, after we had wandered down to the village one evening, Steve ran ahead of us, playfully shouting, "There's a bear in our camp!" Moments later he came zooming back, screaming, "There IS A BEAR in our camp!" Mr. Bear made off with only some lunch meat when Pops and Richard shooed him away. I think Steve and I were up a tree at that point.
Great memories of good friends.
Monday, December 25, 2017
The Visit
The anxiety that had gripped him – all but consumed him – since he
had received his instructions held him motionless before the small
village. “This can’t be right,” he thought. “This backwater village in this backwater region can’t be the place.” He almost thought “There must be a mistake,”
before he caught himself. No, there was no mistake, but that didn’t
ease the sense of despair, the dread that had overwhelmed him since he
had been sent on this mission.
He thought back to his summons before the Throne. There, before the Most High and a small group of angels, the Word had told him that He was going to leave heaven and go to Earth as a human, to become the King of the wayward and rebellious people and turn them back to the Father. He thought at that moment the heavens would fracture and they would all fall into the abyss, but that was just the beginning. The Word went on to explain how He was going to become human, and who His earthly mother would be and that he, Gabriel, in his role as messenger was to go and prepare her. He had already carried out a similar mission six months ago by appearing to Zechariah, the priest and foretelling the birth of a son. He chuckled a bit at having left Zechariah speechless. But that was different; Elizabeth was just old and childless. This… this was something altogether different.
Now Gabriel stood in the dark on the road before the little village of Nazareth, a collection of mud houses nestled on a hillside in Galilee, one of many such villages, none notable. Some of the houses seemed piled on top of others against the hill, mud roof of one becoming the courtyard of another. Some were white-washed; most were not. At the end of the street a few awnings stretched across poles marked where the vendors made a market each day. The market was empty now, as were the streets. All of Nazareth was indoors.
Gabriel strode quickly to the house. Pausing before the door, he tried to muster as much angelic aura as he could, but aura – and almost everything else – had been sucked out of him. He pushed the heavy curtain aside and stepped into the room. She was alone, as he knew she would be. She was startled at his abrupt entrance, but not as much as Gabriel was. “A child!” he thought. “She’s just a child.” He knew the way of the humans – the betrothals at a very early age, the arranged weddings – but to actually see her just confirmed all the dread he felt. “What was He thinking? This skinny girl cannot be the mother of the King of Israel!”
Pushing aside his misgivings, Gabriel set to his task and exclaimed in his most angelic voice, “Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.” He was chagrined at the weak and trembling way the proclamation actually came out. He cleared his throat.
Mary stared at Gabriel in shock. She was startled, but there was nothing to be afraid of in Nazareth. Certainly there was nothing threatening about this man, stranger though he was. What troubled her was his greeting. Mary was a non-person in Nazareth; hardly anyone ever spoke to her at all, least of all strangers, and this was certainly not what a stranger said to you – not even a stranger who burst into your house unannounced. This wasn’t even a greeting that the Rabbi would make – not that the Rabbi ever spoke to her – but this… this greeting made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Gabriel, aware that he had startled Mary, quickly said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God.”
Now Mary was afraid. First, this stranger knew her name. The neighbors didn’t even know her name. Then he said he knew something about her that she didn’t know – and what he knew came from God. Deep down, the first tiny spark of knowledge of who this stranger was and what was happening snapped into being. Yes, now Mary was very afraid.
“You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
Mary heard the words but they didn’t make sense. Then she began to process them, first the part about having a son, then the part about her son being given the throne of David. The little spark was burning white-hot now. Then she went back to the beginning – the part about being with child. Yes, she was engaged to Joseph, and they would marry soon, but something told her this was not what was meant. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised them to Gabriel and said, “How can this be? I... I’ve never been with a man.”
“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. That’s why the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”
Gabriel saw the flash of terror pass through Mary like a lightning bolt. She turned her head away, but Gabriel had seen her eyes wide with alarm. “It’s too much for this child,” he thought. “She can’t handle this.” He sought some way to comfort her. He said gently, “Your cousin Elizabeth is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. Nothing is impossible with God.”
Mary looked at the angel, for she knew full well now that this stranger was from God. Her heart pounded as if it would leave her body. Her mind raced from one thought to another. God has chosen me… What will Joseph say…? It’s not possible… Nothing is impossible with God… What will mother say…? The Messiah – at last…! This can’t be happening to me… Me! God has chosen me…! Why me…? What will father say…? There’s an angel standing in my house… What will the neighbors say…? What of the shame…! Mother of the Messiah…! What will Joseph’s family say…? What…?
Gabriel was stunned. He felt the emotional turmoil, sensed the burning questions as they caromed through her consciousness. He was certain she was going to bolt into the street and he positioned himself squarely before the door to stop her flight when it came. The whole future of creation hung on the answer from this child and he was powerless as to its outcome.
Slowly, the Spirit calmed her mind, softened the trip hammer of her heart, and brought stillness to her thoughts. She looked at Gabriel a long time, then bowed her head and said. “May it be to me as you have said.”
Gabriel blinked once or twice, trying to decide what to do next, but there was no next. His work was done. There was nothing more to say, so he just turned and stepped back into the street. He paused in the dark passage, thinking about what had just happened. He had delivered a preposterous message to a totally improbable girl and she had received it in stride – and was prepared to act on it. Smiling to himself, he set off to find Joseph.
He thought back to his summons before the Throne. There, before the Most High and a small group of angels, the Word had told him that He was going to leave heaven and go to Earth as a human, to become the King of the wayward and rebellious people and turn them back to the Father. He thought at that moment the heavens would fracture and they would all fall into the abyss, but that was just the beginning. The Word went on to explain how He was going to become human, and who His earthly mother would be and that he, Gabriel, in his role as messenger was to go and prepare her. He had already carried out a similar mission six months ago by appearing to Zechariah, the priest and foretelling the birth of a son. He chuckled a bit at having left Zechariah speechless. But that was different; Elizabeth was just old and childless. This… this was something altogether different.
Now Gabriel stood in the dark on the road before the little village of Nazareth, a collection of mud houses nestled on a hillside in Galilee, one of many such villages, none notable. Some of the houses seemed piled on top of others against the hill, mud roof of one becoming the courtyard of another. Some were white-washed; most were not. At the end of the street a few awnings stretched across poles marked where the vendors made a market each day. The market was empty now, as were the streets. All of Nazareth was indoors.
Gabriel strode quickly to the house. Pausing before the door, he tried to muster as much angelic aura as he could, but aura – and almost everything else – had been sucked out of him. He pushed the heavy curtain aside and stepped into the room. She was alone, as he knew she would be. She was startled at his abrupt entrance, but not as much as Gabriel was. “A child!” he thought. “She’s just a child.” He knew the way of the humans – the betrothals at a very early age, the arranged weddings – but to actually see her just confirmed all the dread he felt. “What was He thinking? This skinny girl cannot be the mother of the King of Israel!”
Pushing aside his misgivings, Gabriel set to his task and exclaimed in his most angelic voice, “Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.” He was chagrined at the weak and trembling way the proclamation actually came out. He cleared his throat.
Mary stared at Gabriel in shock. She was startled, but there was nothing to be afraid of in Nazareth. Certainly there was nothing threatening about this man, stranger though he was. What troubled her was his greeting. Mary was a non-person in Nazareth; hardly anyone ever spoke to her at all, least of all strangers, and this was certainly not what a stranger said to you – not even a stranger who burst into your house unannounced. This wasn’t even a greeting that the Rabbi would make – not that the Rabbi ever spoke to her – but this… this greeting made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Gabriel, aware that he had startled Mary, quickly said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God.”
Now Mary was afraid. First, this stranger knew her name. The neighbors didn’t even know her name. Then he said he knew something about her that she didn’t know – and what he knew came from God. Deep down, the first tiny spark of knowledge of who this stranger was and what was happening snapped into being. Yes, now Mary was very afraid.
“You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
Mary heard the words but they didn’t make sense. Then she began to process them, first the part about having a son, then the part about her son being given the throne of David. The little spark was burning white-hot now. Then she went back to the beginning – the part about being with child. Yes, she was engaged to Joseph, and they would marry soon, but something told her this was not what was meant. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised them to Gabriel and said, “How can this be? I... I’ve never been with a man.”
“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. That’s why the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”
Gabriel saw the flash of terror pass through Mary like a lightning bolt. She turned her head away, but Gabriel had seen her eyes wide with alarm. “It’s too much for this child,” he thought. “She can’t handle this.” He sought some way to comfort her. He said gently, “Your cousin Elizabeth is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. Nothing is impossible with God.”
Mary looked at the angel, for she knew full well now that this stranger was from God. Her heart pounded as if it would leave her body. Her mind raced from one thought to another. God has chosen me… What will Joseph say…? It’s not possible… Nothing is impossible with God… What will mother say…? The Messiah – at last…! This can’t be happening to me… Me! God has chosen me…! Why me…? What will father say…? There’s an angel standing in my house… What will the neighbors say…? What of the shame…! Mother of the Messiah…! What will Joseph’s family say…? What…?
Gabriel was stunned. He felt the emotional turmoil, sensed the burning questions as they caromed through her consciousness. He was certain she was going to bolt into the street and he positioned himself squarely before the door to stop her flight when it came. The whole future of creation hung on the answer from this child and he was powerless as to its outcome.
Slowly, the Spirit calmed her mind, softened the trip hammer of her heart, and brought stillness to her thoughts. She looked at Gabriel a long time, then bowed her head and said. “May it be to me as you have said.”
Gabriel blinked once or twice, trying to decide what to do next, but there was no next. His work was done. There was nothing more to say, so he just turned and stepped back into the street. He paused in the dark passage, thinking about what had just happened. He had delivered a preposterous message to a totally improbable girl and she had received it in stride – and was prepared to act on it. Smiling to himself, he set off to find Joseph.
Monday, December 18, 2017
Monday Meanderings - 12.18.2017
The Blizzard of '17 had us all singing "snow" songs - you know, like, "Winter Wonderland" and "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow." And that old favorite, "Good King Sauerkraut."
Not familiar with that one? Must not be a Pogo fan. Every year, Walt Kelly fractured a few carols with versions of his own. For instance, the paean about the 10th-century Bohemian King Wenceslas, which normally goes:
"Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even.."
But Kelly's version usually, but not always, ran:
"Good King Sauerkraut looked out,
On his feets uneven,
While the snoo lay round about,
All kerchoo acheiven."
There was never any more after that, at which point the following exchange would occur with whatever two characters were present:
"'Kerchoo'?"
"Gesundheit. Uh, what's 'snoo'?"
"I dunno. What's new with you?"
But the classic Pogo Christmas carol is "Deck us all with Boston Charlie." I memorized this song as a college student, and can sing it even now, whether asked to, or not. The first verse goes:
"Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Don't we know archaic barrel
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!"
There are actually more verses, but as best as I can determine, they appeared only in the anthologies of Pogo cartoons published after Kelly's death and they don't have the verve and élan of the classic first verse.
And what holiday would be complete without a rousing chorus from the Chad Mitchell Trio's "Song of the Temperance Union?"
We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of temperance we do take our stand
We don't use tobacco because we do think
That the people who use it are likely to drink
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
We never eat cookies because they have yeast
And one little bite turns a man to a beast
Can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Then of a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
We never eat fruitcake because it has rum
And one little bite turns a man to a bum
Can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating fruitcake until he gets tight
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
And I conclude by singing to one and all, "We wish you a merry fruitcake, we wish you a merry fruitcake, we wish you a merry fruitcake, and to all a good night!"
Not familiar with that one? Must not be a Pogo fan. Every year, Walt Kelly fractured a few carols with versions of his own. For instance, the paean about the 10th-century Bohemian King Wenceslas, which normally goes:
"Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even.."
But Kelly's version usually, but not always, ran:
"Good King Sauerkraut looked out,
On his feets uneven,
While the snoo lay round about,
All kerchoo acheiven."
There was never any more after that, at which point the following exchange would occur with whatever two characters were present:
"'Kerchoo'?"
"Gesundheit. Uh, what's 'snoo'?"
"I dunno. What's new with you?"
But the classic Pogo Christmas carol is "Deck us all with Boston Charlie." I memorized this song as a college student, and can sing it even now, whether asked to, or not. The first verse goes:
"Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Don't we know archaic barrel
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!"
There are actually more verses, but as best as I can determine, they appeared only in the anthologies of Pogo cartoons published after Kelly's death and they don't have the verve and élan of the classic first verse.
And what holiday would be complete without a rousing chorus from the Chad Mitchell Trio's "Song of the Temperance Union?"
We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of temperance we do take our stand
We don't use tobacco because we do think
That the people who use it are likely to drink
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
We never eat cookies because they have yeast
And one little bite turns a man to a beast
Can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Then of a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
We never eat fruitcake because it has rum
And one little bite turns a man to a bum
Can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating fruitcake until he gets tight
Away, away with rum, by gum, rum, by gum, rum, by gum
Away, away with rum, by gum, the song of the Temperance Union
And I conclude by singing to one and all, "We wish you a merry fruitcake, we wish you a merry fruitcake, we wish you a merry fruitcake, and to all a good night!"
Monday, December 11, 2017
Monday Meanderings - 12.11.2017
Well, the big news around these parts is the Blizzard of '17! Yes, it actually snowed here in Austin (and southward as far as the coast)! What made this snowfall so remarkable is that the weatherman was completely wrong - "No snow in this front! Maybe a flurry, but no accumulation! Nope! Not going to happen!" Then it started snowing,and remarkably, the farther south you went the greater the accumulation. Naturally, all the school, city and government agencies did the predictable thing - panicked and shut everything down. That's the ATX way.
But the really big news is that my audio book passed QC and is "live" - listed on Amazon and Audible.com. There was a little hiccup during the checking process; ACX, the Amazon company that handles all the audio book preparation kicked out the opening credits file because I also had a forward and dedication recorded there. It seems they only want prescribed, scripted opening credits - if there is a dedication or some front matter it goes in another file. Whatever.
I corrected that and re-submitted the file and then I heard nothing from ACX for a long, long time. I was getting a little antsy but all is good and the book is now out there, poised to earn me fame and fortune. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Because, frankly it's not a very good book (even if the narration is stunning). Okay, in fairness, it is not the sort of book I would buy. Or any one I know would buy, though as of this post some soul did actually buy a copy, and since the author and I each get free promotional copies the purchaser is probably not even family. Who knew?
I learned a great deal about producing audio books during all this. Primarily, I learned that it is a lot of tedious work and that every 3rd breathing person is now in the business of producing audio books. Including, it would seem, me.
But the really big news is that my audio book passed QC and is "live" - listed on Amazon and Audible.com. There was a little hiccup during the checking process; ACX, the Amazon company that handles all the audio book preparation kicked out the opening credits file because I also had a forward and dedication recorded there. It seems they only want prescribed, scripted opening credits - if there is a dedication or some front matter it goes in another file. Whatever.
I corrected that and re-submitted the file and then I heard nothing from ACX for a long, long time. I was getting a little antsy but all is good and the book is now out there, poised to earn me fame and fortune. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Because, frankly it's not a very good book (even if the narration is stunning). Okay, in fairness, it is not the sort of book I would buy. Or any one I know would buy, though as of this post some soul did actually buy a copy, and since the author and I each get free promotional copies the purchaser is probably not even family. Who knew?
I learned a great deal about producing audio books during all this. Primarily, I learned that it is a lot of tedious work and that every 3rd breathing person is now in the business of producing audio books. Including, it would seem, me.
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