I spent one summer in college working in a local restaurant as a dishwasher. My senior year in college I worked for the food service vendor in a failed attempt to get into food service management. (That is another whole story.) In both cases washing dishes and washing pots and pans were two separate functions.
The same is true here at home. We have the dishwasher for plates, flatware, glasses, and other dishes. Pots and pans we wash in the sink. At our house in Gilroy, both in the original and remodeled kitchen, Terry always seemed to do the pots and pans even when I was cooking. Here in Hemet, I do most of the cooking and I do the pots and pans.
This makes no real sense, but I think it somehow has to do with the choreography and flow from the dining area to the kitchen in our respective houses. And I’m happy to clean the pots and pans along with the associated utensils (the KitchenAid (cheese) shredder attachment, the mandolin, etc.). After all, I got them dirty. I ought to clean them.
I enjoy cooking and am happy taking responsibility for the follow-up.
Last year I was in the hospital on Ash Wednesday. In 2019 the day fell a week later than it does this year. I experienced a setback after my February surgery. I went into the clinic on Monday of that week simply to have my staples removed, but the nurse didn’t like what I was telling him about what was going on with me. I ended up spending the day in the urgent care waiting room, having blood work done, then a CT scan, and eventually being transported to Kaiser hospital where I remained until Saturday. Of course it took me a few weeks to recover to the point where I could be out and about, so I missed the better part of Lent last year.
This year I decided to be deliberate in marking the change of season and being aware of the space and time of Lent. I phrase it that way because I am not terribly good at implementing or following a Lenten discipline. Nonetheless I want to be aware of where we are on the liturgical calendar. And who knows, perhaps I can coax myself into some kind of Lenten practice.
Awareness of Lent makes for a more joyful Easter, I do believe.
On the evening that I was ready to start a new book my daily email from Early Bird Books included this title. The summary said that the writing was excellent, so that, of course, caught my attention. Given the price I decided to buy it.
In the time frame that this book covers the author lives on a ranch in Wyoming, and much of the commentary in the essays takes place in that milieu. However, Ehrlich treks distant trails in Japan, explores the Channel Islands of the California coast, looks for cacti on military land in Nevada, and visits the NASA telescope on Mauna Kea in Hawaii.
Ehrlich does know how to turn a phrase:
Sap rises in trees and in me, and the hard knot of perseverance I cultivated to meet winter dissipates; I walk away from the obsidian of bitter nights. Now snow comes wet and heavy, but the air it traverses feels light.
The essays in the first part of the book reminded me somewhat of Loren Eiseley, though not so much later in the book. Nonetheless, Ehrlich’s reflections are engaging throughout.
The Bookshop of Yesterdays
Park Row (June 12, 2018), 368 pages
Kindle edition $9.49, Amazon paperback $10.29
The Amazon page for this novel notes that it was included in the summer reading list of a couple of different publications, and that’s really what it is: something of a summer reading title, even though I read the book in late winter.
Miranda, the protagonist whose story is told in the first person, returns home to Los Angeles from her teaching job and boyfriend in Philadelphia when her uncle Billy dies and leaves her the bookstore he owned. Billy loved games and scavenger hunts even when Miranda was a child, and he had set up a scavenger hunt for her before his death to explain to her why he left her the bookshop, and to reveal to her something that she didn’t know about her own personal history. The clues he leaves are quotes from a wide range of literature.
There is a plot twist, which makes perfect sense once you get there, but the book rather falls apart after that revelation. It does recover enough, however, for a fairly satisfying ending.
Nothing heavy or profound here, but an enjoyable diversion.
I have always been serious about spices in my cooking, but when we did our kitchen remodel in Gilroy we added a built-in spice rack and I went ape-you know what. We bought empty spice bottles at Bed Bath and Beyond and filled them with spices from the good folks at Penzeys. At our house here in Hemet we have a spice drawer rather than a custom-built spice rack, but we still have just as many spices. We even have an overflow plastic spice organizer in the pantry.
The thyme is in our main spice drawer. The parsley and sage are in the overflow organizer. And rosemary? I haven’t given rosemary proper respect. In fact, when I went to do a recipe that called for rosemary a couple of weeks ago I realized that I didn’t have any. I bought some fresh rosemary from the produce department in the grocery store. A couple weeks later I had another recipe that included rosemary and I used what was left.
I realized I needed to to give rosemary a better spot in my spice pantheon. So I added it to my last Penzeys order, and it now has a spot in the main spice drawer, booting out a rarely used spice. Why it took so long, I don’t know, but the disrespect has been addressed.
P.S. Remember when we listened to music on vinyl in stereo? Remember that you could separately control the left and right speaker volume? You could listen to Simon and Garfunkel’s rendition of the English folk tune independently on one side and their anti-war chant separately on the other. That’s something that we can’t do any longer.
Music: A Subversive History
Narrated by Jamie Renell
Basic Books, October 15, 2019
$20.76 for Audible members, more for non-members
purchased with an Audible credit
This is a substantial work. The print version is 480 pages, and the audiobook is 17 hours and 55 minutes. But Gioia covers a lot of territory here. He starts with primitive humans in their hunter-gatherer societies and continues up to the present day with YouTube and streaming music.
Gioia explains how music had its origins in hunting and war, and how both musical instruments and musical conventions reflect that. He describes the way in which music was often initially subversive, a product of the poor, slaves, the underclass, and how it was ultimately appropriated by the ruling class for its own purposes. He talks about how women’s voices were suppressed and their creations co-opted. For example The Song of Songs in the Old Testament, clearly an erotic love song, became a poem describing God’s love for His people, or if you are Christian, perhaps Christ’s love for his church. He documents other similar occurrences in the ancient world.
He explains how the composers of the classical music era had their own agendas and how they benefited from their patrons but often when their own way. He is highly critical about the way in which the early documenters of folk music failed to accurately transcribe what they found. Gioia describes how publishers of sheet music catered to the kind of music folks with pianos in their homes wanted to play.
In the modern era Gioia moves from blues to jazz to rock to country in a single chapter and describes their impact on American society. He notes how MTV revolutionized the music industry and how Apple and Google (which purchased YouTube) revolutionized it once again. Throughout, over and over again, he documents how music that is initially intended to be revolutionary ends up becoming mainstream.
The book is ably ready by Jamie Renell, although his occasional mispronunciations of names, particularly in the ancient world, can be jarring. Still Renell reads with cadence and clarity that effectively communicates Gioia’s text.