The Lydster: very grave situation

hickey-gravestoneThe family went to this fair at a church in Claverack, NY, SSE of Albany. The Wife sees a friend who connects with that one time a year. The Daughter played on the swing, but I headed for the adjacent cemetery.

My maternal grandmother Gert and her sister Adenia have no gravestones. Gram died on Super Bowl Sunday 1982, and my aunt Deana a decade and a half earlier. So I decided to check out the condition of the memorials.

I noticed right off that many of them have a covering of green substance I believe to be lichen. Some are more prone than others.

The Daughter, finished on the swing, joined me in the cemetery. I started cleaning off the lichen with the back of a plastic fork I happened to have, and she used an old pen to clean out the letters. I wish I had taken a “before” picture, but one could barely see HICKEY, and the names below were not visible. As you can probably tell, there is still plenty of lichen there, but at least it’s readable.

Ah, Mildred Rowe was a couple of years OLDER than her husband, but outlived him by a couple of decades.

duntz-gravestone-before duntz-gravestone-after
Pleased with our work, we went onto another grave. Headstones tell interesting stories. The Duntz couple had two kids. Emily died before she was 40, and Azano didn’t make it to his 18th birthday. The parents buried both of their children.

Interestingly, there are separate little headstones at ground level for AZANO, EMILY, and MOTHER (Edna Alger), but not for the father, Ellis, because others evidently made that determination.

Later, with friends, I’ve had several conversations about making plans for that time after death so that family members don’t have fights about it. I speak from experience in this matter.

shook-headstone-before shook-headstone-after
We had almost run out of time – the Wife was calling us to have lunch at the event – but we thought this one headstone needed our help, not so much from the lichen, but from some other growth. Even together, we could not pull out the weed obscuring the view, and I didn’t have a knife on me to cut it away. Instead of removing the obstruction, the Daughter took a weed and tied them down, then found a rock, an adventure in itself, to keep the mess down.

We did relatively little lichen removal on this one, but it needed less work. This headstone was next to another stone I suspect marked the sister of the woman noted here.

The Daughter thought that she might like doing this kind of work for a living, or maybe do it as a hobby to get away from her busy lawyer career. We found it very relaxing on a perfect, sunny November day (67 F, 19.4C), a day before it snowed!

Christmas was on a Sunday

I had no sense that 1978 would be MUCH better.

rogergreen-lesliegreenIt’s rather peculiar, I suppose, that I almost never go to church on Christmas Day, whereas I almost ALWAYS sing at church on Christmas Eve.

I did go at least once in the past ten years – I know the time frame because our current pastors were there. It is the one service you can go to in your pajamas, if one were to have a mind to.

Christmas is on a Sunday this year.

1960: Christmas was on a Sunday. I don’t recall what time my sister Leslie, who was 6, and I, who was 7, were allowed to wake up our parents. Baby sister Marcia was only two and we wouldn’t wake her up until she got up on her own.

I DO know that as we got older, the time got later and later before we could open the presents. (That’s Leslie and me in the pic, probably a couple of years earlier.)

1966: Christmas was on a Sunday. I delivered the paper six evenings a week, back in the olden days when there WERE afternoon papers, and then on Sunday morning, back in Binghamton, NY.

My father, who NEVER helped me with my route, because it was MY job, not his – not that I ever asked him – got up (or maybe stayed up) to help me deliver that thick newspaper to my customers on Clinton Street, Front Street and McDonald Avenue. That meant a lot to me, but I doubt that I ever said so.

1977: Christmas was a Sunday. I was probably crashing on the sofa of friends of mine in Schenectady, near Albany. That whole year was difficult, and I lived in New Paltz, NY; Charlotte, NC; Binghamton; Jamaica, Queens, NYC; back to New Paltz; and finally in the Electric City (GE was huge there at the time). It was undoubtedly the worst year of my life, even though I made some friends that year I still have. I had no sense that 1978 would be MUCH better.

1988: Christmas was a Sunday. I had left FantaCo, the comic book store less than two months earlier, burned out. Probably in a relationship crisis.

1994: Christmas was a Sunday. I had started my current job on October 19 of that year. But I was very DEFINITELY in a relationship crisis.

2005: Christmas was a Sunday. The Daughter was born the year before, the Wife and I were in our current house, in our current church. Life is pretty good.
***
Berlioz: the shepherds farewell from the oratorio L` enfance du Christ”

Coverville 1152: A Very Coverville Christmas 2016

A Comic Book Christmas Carol

Music Throwback Saturday: Bethlehemian Rhapsody

Because the wise men come, wise men go, angels high, shepherds low.
This is how God’s love shows.
It’s a wondrous story to me, to me.

bethlehemianSurely, you are familiar with the Queen song Bohemian Rhapsody. Well, apparently unrelated to what would have been Freddie Mercury’s 70th birthday year, my church’s youth leader directed a version of something called Bethlehemian Rhapsody, about the birth of Jesus earlier this month.

There are a few examples of these online, always involving puppets. But the version the church kids did was a live-action bit, with The Daughter playing Mary. The adult choir soloists also sang with the kids. They did a boffo job.

The lyrics start:

Is this the real birth?
Is it nativity?
Caught in a census
in the town of his ancestry.

Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see.
He’s just a poor boy foretold by prophecy.
Because the wise men come, wise men go, angels high, shepherds low.
This is how God’s love shows.
It’s a wondrous story to me, to me.

This is not to be confused by a different Bethlehemian Rhapsody, involving David and Goliath, sung by the group ApologetiX, with the lyrics here.

Listen to Bethlehemian Rhapsody (primarily the Jesus version):
here or here or here
here (video and lyrics)
here – lyrics of Jesus version, plus video of both the Jesus and David & Goliath versions
the ApologetiX David and Goliath version

Compare with Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen:
here and here, including those lyrics

The amazing power of Santa Claus

Chuck Miller, the guy in the plaid shirt, organized the event,


More than once, someone, almost always unknown to me, has referred to me as Santa Claus. Big man, white beard; I get it.

Interestingly, it’s usually done by women, especially young women, and it’s almost always said in December. I might have the same beard length in March, but it never engenders a St. Nick comment.

I was at my allergist back at Corporate (frickin’) Woods, where I used to work. Well, I know the bus schedule for the #737. I left the building in plenty of time to catch the 9:45 a.m. bus, but either it arrived early, or didn’t come at all. This means walking out of CW, because there’s not another bus downtown for four hours. I trudge up the hill- beware of the speeding cars going down since there’s no sidewalk and the grass is covered with snow and ice.

As I’m finally on the mostly straightaway of Albany Shaker Road, this woman, driving the opposite way from where I’m going, stops and wants to know if I’d like a ride. It was cold out, and I had maybe a mile to walk on roads with no sidewalks, so I said yes.

She was a photographer for children, sometimes with Santa Claus. She just couldn’t bear to see Santa walking, so she turned around, gave me a ride down Albany-Shaker, and just after she makes the right turn on Northern Boulevard, I see the #182 bus that would take me downtown, and she gets me to the stop, near the WTEN-TV station, just before the bus gets there.

The power of Santa Claus.

Oh, this is a picture, taken two days later, at the home of retired newsman Ken Screven, the guy front and center, with a couple of Ken’s friends, Denise and Arnelle, and a coterie of Times Union bloggers, including Chuck Miller, the guy in the plaid shirt who organized the event, Aaron Bush, Judi England, and Walter Ayres. Unfortunately, Michael Rivest had departed before the camera came out.

Movie review: Manchester by the Sea

Writer/director Kenneth Lonergan had the same roles in one of my favorite films of the past 20 years, You Can Count On Me.

Manchester by the Sea is a very good movie, but the story is sad, though not unrelentingly so. Occasionally, it’s even mildly funny.

Lee Chandler (the excellent Casey Affleck) is a maintenance man in the Boston area, working on four apartment buildings with difficult tenants. He gets word that his brother Joe (Kyle Chandler) is having trouble with his heart, again, and Lee rushes up to the hospital to see him. Too late.

Much to his surprise, Lee finds out that his older brother has made him the sole guardian of Joe’s son Patrick (Lucas Hedges). He’s required to return to the title locale to care for his 16-year-old nephew. In doing so, ghosts of his past while growing up in the community, especially his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), come to the fore. Lee and Patrick negotiate their relationship without Joe, the common thread.

The saddest part of the film takes place while one of the two most heart-wrenching pieces of music in the entire classical canon is playing.

Grief is a peculiar thing. Often, others want you to “get over it” sooner than you are able to do so, and that is, for me, the underlying theme of the film. When the movie ended, a pair of women who were sitting behind us at the Spectrum expressed disappointment that the end wasn’t more tidily happy. I thought it was much like life IS.

The most impressive element of the filmmaking is that the story goes back and forth in time, and I’m almost always aware of when we are in the narrative, no small feat. Kudos to writer/director Kenneth Lonergan, who had the same roles in one of my favorite films of the past 20 years, You Can Count On Me (2000). The acting was excellent throughout, although Matthew Broderick, in a small role as Patrick’s mom’s finance, always looks like Matthew Broderick to me.

I should note that, according to IMBD, Manchester by the Sea contains at least 125 profanities, with the f-bomb quite popular. The film is a bit more popular with the critics (97% positive on Rotten Tomatoes) than with fans (85% positive). At 135 minutes, it IS a long movie, but the guy in my row who checked his device at least thrice had me wanting to seize it from his hand and smash it to the floor, but I didn’t.

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