Ice Folly Of 2010
Notice the grace, the artistry, the purity of form and line...
Last weekend I laced up a pair of rental skates and ventured tentatively onto the slick surface of an ice rink for only the third time in my life. It was an impulsive decision, brought about by our attendance at eldest daughter Amber's synchronized skating team banquet. There was a lull in the proceedings after dinner and awards, with an hour of open ice before the broom ball activity anticipated by youngest daughter Melinda. What to do until then? No one was interested in skating, until I jokingly suggested that I might give it a try. Then the whole family was interested.
"Oh! Dad! You should do it! You should! If you go skating, I will seriously get on the ice with you," vowed Melinda. I had painted myself into a corner with my careless talk, and now I saw only one honorable way out. The burden of rescuing my family from an hour of boredom was on my shoulders. If I refused to hit the ice, I would be a hopelessly dull, stick-in-the-mud dad who would have to endure our children's complaints of ennui and potential sibling bickering. But if only I gave it a try, we would all be entertained for awhile, and I'd be hailed as a heroically Fun Dad. If I didn't break anything, that is.
The Annotated Edward Cramer
An early influence?
When children express their boundless imagination in writing, the results can be bizarre. I am regularly reminded of this as a teacher of elementary-age students. It is my privilege to observe their literary development at a formative stage, when their novice attempts to emulate various styles sometimes merge with their limited background knowledge to surreal and unintentionally humorous effect.
What I try to remember when evaluating student narratives is how incredibly strange my own attempts at storytelling were at that age. As unusual as some of the student work I've encountered has been, none of it has surpassed some of my juvenile efforts in their breadth and depth of sheer weirdness. Take, for example, The Glass Eye, a macabre stab at humor that I wrote circa second or third grade. Its off-kilter flavor is apparent even in its byline, as I attributed the work to Edward Cramer.
Dumb And Dumber
"I think something is burning...I think something is burning..."
The following accounts are true. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. This week we present the culinary offenses of two brothers for your consideration. No partners in crime, they committed their transgressions independently and inadvertently decades ago. Despite having moved on to competency in the kitchen, the siblings have not forgotten what they once did, nor have they ever stopped arguing about it. At issue is the question of whose kitchen mishap is the stupidest. As both jury and judge, you will see for yourself that there exists no debate whatsoever as to whether each unfortunate cooking decision was stupid, for you will soon observe that this is a given. Rather, you must weigh their relative stupidity.
The defendants would prefer that you take into account their youth and inexperience in the kitchen before rendering a verdict. They were raised in a coddled and protective environment by a generous and solicitous mother who saw to it that they were provided with delicious and nutritious meals on a daily basis. Thus, when left to fend for themselves at ages somewhere between late adolescence and early adulthood, they encountered what the general public might think of as common kitchen situations for the very first time. In the spirit of fairness and impartiality, and to spare them further embarrassment, you shall learn of their crimes without direct reference to their age at the time of the incidents. Nevertheless, the defendents reiterate their pitiable excuse that their actions were understandable because they were young and inexperienced, and hereafter they submit themselves to the mercy of the court.
Great Albums: Jesus Christ Superstar
An iconic cover and a menacing overture filled my young mind with fear.
If I were to choose a favorite decade of recorded music, I would pick the incredibly fertile ten years from 1965 through 1974. It was the golden era of unrestrained, long-form, innovative rock music, when an unprecedented tolerance for experimentation allowed talented artists to create some remarkable records that took full advantage of the latest advances in electronic instruments and multitrack recording. The new technology enabled a production style that reproduced each instrument clearly and distinctly, offering discriminating listeners the opportunity to focus their attention on any one of many different elements every time a platter was spun. I love the sound of the albums that were made during those years.
One of the best of the bunch was Jesus Christ Superstar, which was released by Decca Records in October of 1970. For me, it represents the closest thing to perfection in each of the three areas that contribute to a great album: writing, production, and performance. Unsurpassed by its subsequent incarnations as well as the later work of its creators, it has transcended the label of "rock opera" to become one of the defining recordings of its time.