Author: Roger

I'm a librarian. I hear music, even when it's not being played. I used to work at a comic book store, and it still informs my life. I won once on JEOPARDY! - ditto.

Mary Durkot, R.I.P.

We have to to help each other remove the bindings of our collective grief.

I attended my third funeral of 2012 last week. But let me back up a bit.

Mary Durkot was the mother of one of my oldest friends, as in my friend and I went to kindergarten together. This means I knew Mrs. Durkot – I never referred to her by her first name – for over a half century. She lived in Binghamton, NY, my hometown, all of her 92 years.

One of the last times I saw her was when my daughter was a baby. She took such pleasure in seeing her, as though Lydia were one of her own grandchildren.

On June 30, the day before she passed, all four of her children, along with several of her grandchildren and great grandchildren, spent the day with her, as my friend put it, “laughing and cracking wise.” This was pretty remarkable in that only one of the children live in Binghamton, with the others in Boston, Brooklyn and near Baltimore.

Unsurprisingly, she had arranged and paid for her wake and funeral years earlier; she even picked out the dress she wanted to buried in.

The Wife and I arrived at the funeral home about 5:15 last Thursday evening. My friend did not know I was coming, since I was not 100% sure myself. She seemed shocked, but pleased with my presence. Some of our mutual friends came by, including the sister and the mother of our mutual friend Carol (not to be confused with my wife Carol). At 6:30, there was a prayer service. This was in the Russian Orthodox tradition, and while I had grown up in this Slavic neighborhood, this was likely the first funeral of this style I had attended. A lot of chant, a bit of repetition. I tried to pick up on the sonic rhythm, occasionally successfully.

Friday morning was the brief prayer event at the funeral home, followed by the 2/5s of a mile funeral procession to the church, which we found ourselves part of. More chanting and prayer, followed by a homily that I really liked. The narrative was based on the scripture where Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. The priest noted that Jesus did not remove Lazarus’ burial cloth, and that Lazarus was unable to remove it himself. It was up to the others to help Lazarus. In the same manner, we have to to help each other remove the bindings of our collective grief.

During the procession to the cemetery, the hearse broke down! (On Clinton Street, for you Binghamtonians). The procession was scheduled to go past the house on Mygatt Street where Mrs. D lived for many years. The house was sold only last December. The running joke was that, while the house was very nice, the new owners kept the hedges THREE INCHES higher than Mary would have liked. Most of the cars went onto the cemetery, but the pallbearers returned to where the hearse broke down to put the coffin in the back of someone’s pickup truck. It WAS a nice pickup. There are several cellphone pictures of the back of the truck, with the flap down, showing the coffin and a bag of potting soil, to be used for the burial.

Afterwards, The Wife and I were invited to eat a very nice meal at the church with the extended family and then we went our separate ways, though my friend and I tacitly vowed to be more in touch; I hadn’t seen her since July 2011.

I must say that, while I went primarily for my friend, and for her mother’s memory, I also went a bit for myself as well. Celebrating the passing of someone in her tenth decade is a bit more expected – though the passing of a parent is NEVER expected, I’ve found – than the death of a 57-year old. Or a 20-month old.

MOVIE REVIEW: Moonrise Kingdom

The movie Moonrise Kingdom is really difficult to describe – without revealing too much – except to say that, despite all logic, one starts rooting for the couple.

The Wife and I were in Binghamton, NY for the Olin family reunion, among other things, and we decided to stay at a downtown hotel called the Binghamton Riverfront; nice place. We discovered that there is a two-screen theater called Art Mission less than a half-mile away. It appears to be a refurbished fire or police station, but in fact, it used to be a city mission; thus, its name. There were fewer than 75 seats in the theater. I originally sat in the third row, but found it to be too close; row four was much more comfortable for me visually. The theater was showing the new film by Wes Anderson called Moonrise Kingdom, which was NOT playing at the local Regal or Loew’s.

My spouse wanted to see it because she liked the trailer, which she saw in Albany’s much larger art theater, the Spectrum. I was less interested, because I had only seen one Anderson film that I can recall, The Royal Tenenbaums, and I did not much relate to it. (No, I didn’t see Bottle Rocket or Rushmore or The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.) And in the end, I really enjoyed the film, the Wife, not so much.

The movie is about two not especially likable children (newcomers Kara Hayward and Jared Gilman) who meet strange, and the pursuit of them by the police captain (Bruce Willis), the scoutmaster (Edward Norton), and the girl’s parents (Bill Murray, Frances McDormand). This takes up the first act, but then things change up. Harvey Keitel and especially Tilda Swinton have roles in the latter part of the film. The movie is really difficult to describe – without revealing too much – except to say that, despite all logic, one starts rooting for the couple, maybe because the adults in their world are so dysfunctional.

Interesting that almost all the analyses, positive (94% at this point) and negative, note that Anderson is doing Anderson again, except that, the good reviews say, THIS time, he’s infused them with some level of whimsy and humanity.

The use of color and art, giving the film a real 1965 look, was quite effective, especially the occasional segments of narration by Bob Balaban, which felt really authentic.

But what I appreciate almost as much is the music. If you grew up with Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts, you might have a bit of a flashback. Oddly, all the patrons left after the credits started rolling, which I thought was too bad, for it was a reprise of the music educational record that starts the film.

Z is for Zzzzzzz

“A growing body of evidence from both science and history suggests that the eight-hour sleep may be unnatural.”

 

More than almost any topic in the popular media, sleep, or the lack thereof, has been the subject of seemingly countless articles. This article from PARADE magazine is a typical example, which notes: “If you feel tired all the time, talk to your doctor. Persistent ­fatigue could ­signal a medical condition such as sleep apnea, an underactive thyroid, or ­anemia.” Here is Mark Evanier’s sleep apnea history, for example.

The Centers for Disease Control has a whole section devoted to sleep and sleep disorders, which cites diabetes, cardiovascular disease, obesity, and depression as being associated with insufficient sleep. According to a recent study by the National Sleep Foundation, 60 percent of men and women experience sleep problems almost every night. Harvard University research suggests that 7 out of every 10 adults do not get the quality sleep they need.

One of the great interrupters of sleep is Daylight Saving Time, which Jaquandor kvetched about. There is an increased number of accidents each time the clock goes forward.

Still, I was fascinated by a BBC article: “A growing body of evidence from both science and history suggests that the eight-hour sleep may be unnatural.

“In the early 1990s, psychiatrist Thomas Wehr conducted an experiment in which a group of people were plunged into darkness for 14 hours every day for a month. It took some time for their sleep to regulate but by the fourth week, the subjects had settled into a very distinct sleeping pattern. They slept first for four hours, then woke for one or two hours before falling into a second four-hour sleep. Though sleep scientists were impressed by the study, among the general public the idea that we must sleep for eight consecutive hours persists.”

The Beatles recorded at least two songs about sleep, I’m Only Sleeping and I’m So Tired.

ABC Wednesday – Round 10

Shafted into Soaps: Richard Roundtree is 70

Richard Roundtree turns 70 today.

In 1990, I was a Census enumerator, which meant I wold go door to door to count people. I used to watch the noon news, then started viewing whatever was after it. There was a soap opera featuring Richard Roundtree. Yes, Shaft himself! It was called Generations, and I ended up watching it at 12:30 pm until it died in 1991. (It had started in 1989). It was the first soap, reportedly, where about half the cast was black. Roundtree played Dr. Daniel Reubens, implicated for a crime he did not commit.

I never actually saw any of the Shaft movies, though I did see an episode or two of the short-lived (1973-1974) TV series based on them, but I was intrigued that this semi-famous movie actor was in this daytime TV show I had never heard of. The bad thing about watching it is that, eventually, I started watching Days of Our Lives at 1, and got sucked into that until some over-the-top plot line drove me away. Subsequently, I started watching Another World at 2, and I viewed it until two weeks before the end in 1999, when I got married and went on my honeymoon. But I’ve read the synopses.

My grandmother and great-aunt used to watch the CBS soaps (Guiding Light, Edge of Night, Secret Storm, and others) when I was a kid, and I’d see them quite a bit, especially the latter two (on at 3:30-4:30). As you probably know, lots of actors moved from the soap to prime time TV. I saw Henry Simmons on AW and then he spent the last 6 years on N.Y.P.D. Blue. AW’s Amy Carlson was on Third Watch, then the 4th Law & Order show.

Anyway, Richard Roundtree, who developed breast cancer in 1993 and had a double mastectomy and chemotherapy, is still a working actor. I remember him well in his guest appearance on the television series The Closer as the retired Marine colonel who was the father of a sniper.

He turns 70 today, and I wish him well, and forgive him for being my gateway drug to soap operas, an addiction I’ve now overcome.

A book I ought to read: Jesus for President

“We in the church are schizophrenic: we want to be good Christians, but deep down we trust that only the power of the state and its militaries and markets can really make a difference in the world.”

 

There was a study of a book in Albany called Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw. Claiborne was even in town, leading some workshops. But I was busy. Then I read this excerpt of the book in my church newsletter:
“Christianity is at its best when it is peculiar, marginalized, suffering, and it is at its worst when it is popular, credible, triumphal, and powerful.”

Sounds like my kind of book.

From the preface:

This book is a project in renewing the imagination of the church in the United States and of those who would seek to know Jesus. We are seeing more and more that the church has fallen in love with the state and that this love affair is killing the church’s imagination. The powerful benefits and temptations of running the world’s largest superpower have bent the church’s identity. Having power at its fingertips, the church often finds “guiding the course of history” a more alluring goal than following the crucified Christ. Too often the patriotic values of pride and strength triumph over the spiritual virtues of humility, gentleness, and sacrificial love.

We in the church are schizophrenic: we want to be good Christians, but deep down we trust that only the power of the state and its militaries and markets can really make a difference in the world. And so we’re hardly able to distinguish between what’s American and what’s Christian. As a result, power corrupts the church and its goals and practices. When Jesus said, “You cannot serve two masters,” he meant that in serving one, you destroy your relationship to the other. Or as our brother and fellow activist Tony Campolo puts it, “Mixing the church and state is like mixing ice cream with cow manure. It may not do much to the manure, but it sure messes up the ice cream.” As Jesus warned, what good is it to gain the whole world if we lose our soul?

So what we need is an exploration of the Bible’s political imagination, a renovated Christian politics, a new set of hopes, goals, and practices. We believe the growing number of Christians who are transcending the rhetoric of lifeless presidential debates is a sign of this renovation. Amid all the buzz, we are ready to turn off our TVs, pick up our Bibles, and reimagine the world.

Over the last several years, the Christian relation to the state has become more dubious… Professing Christians have been at the helm of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, implicitly or explicitly referencing faith in God as part of their leadership. Patriotic pastors insist that America is a Christian nation without questioning the places in distant and recent history where America has
not looked like Christ. Rather than placing our hope in a transnational church that embodies God’s kingdom, we assume America is God’s hope for the world, even when it doesn’t look like Christ. Dozens of soldiers who have contacted us confess a paralyzing identity crisis as they feel the collision of their allegiances…

I’ll have to get a copy and add this book to my ever-expanding summer reading list.

Ramblin' with Roger
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