Ramblin' with Roger

I is for Ides

Only the ides of March, May, July, and October are on the 15th; the rest are on the 13th.

Vincenzo Camuccini-The Ides of March. 1800.

When one hears of ides, it is almost always the Ides of March, which is March 15. And when one thinks of the Ides of March, one inevitably contemplates the assassination of Julius Caesar by his foes and so-called friends in 44 B.C.

Of course, the telling of the tale by William Shakespeare is the most well-known portrayal of the leader’s murder. There are at least 27 different movies and TV shows named Julius Caesar in the IMDB.

An iteration of Caesar’s death I hadn’t been familiar with is The Ides of March: A Novel by Thornton Wilder. From the Amazon description: “The Ides of March, first published in 1948, is a brilliant epistolary novel set in Julius Caesar’s Rome. Thornton Wilder called it ‘a fantasia on certain events and persons of the last days of the Roman republic.’ Through vividly imagined letters and documents, Wilder brings to life a dramatic period of world history and one of history’s most magnetic, elusive personalities.” Moreover, Jerome Kilty turned the book into a 1971 play.

I never saw it, but Episode No. 89 of the TV show Xena was called IDES OF MARCH.

Here’s a look at March 15 in history. Incidentally, the ides of a month is not necessarily on the 15th. In fact, only the ides of March, May, July, and October are on the 15th; the rest are on the 13th.

George Clooney began filming the movie Ides of March, about a Democratic governor campaigning in presidential primaries, in Cincinnati, Ohio in February 2011, continuing into March. Perhaps even on the 15th? Or would that be tempting fate?

There are a few songs called Ides of March, including one by Iron Maiden, but I thought I’d end with a song by a group called Ides of March, doing a live version of their #2 1970 hit Vehicle.
ABC Wednesday – Round 8

The Seven Deadly Sins Meme

Massage is good, to give or receive.

I woke up Friday morning hearing about a tsunami heading towards the United States, without any context of what was actually happening in Japan itself. First thing I read, actually, was Reader Wil’s post. Then I watched a lot of the television coverage. And I STILL don’t know what to say, yet. Maybe OMG. I do like Jaquandor’s post, though.

From Sunday Stealing.

1 – Pride. Seven great things about yourself.

I’m rather smart.
I’ve been told I’m a good writer.
I have a great deal of curiosity.
I do a reasonably good job keeping in touch with my friends.
I have social awareness.
I’m a good listener.
I take my loyalties seriously.

2 – Envy. Seven things you lack and covet.
OK, I’ll stipulate that I lack them, but not so sure about the coveting part.

Spatial awareness.
Mechanical aptitude.
Great awareness of 21st-century music.
Time to keep up on magazines.
Patience for long-range goals.
Desire to talk about budgeting.
Ability to keep track of my keys.

3 – Wrath. Seven things that piss you off.

Bad drivers.
Lying politicians.
People who say, “Get over it, move on” a lot.
Obsession with celebrity.
Intentional polluters.
People who litter, especially when the garbage can is three feet away.
War.

4 – Sloth. Seven things you neglect to do.

Make the bed.
Straightening my desk.
Worry about trendy clothes.
oh, I can’t really think of anything else

5 – Greed. Seven worldly material desires.

A new computer, because ours is a dinosaur.
A new TV, because the current one requires the sound to be really high in order to operate.
A new bicycle, to replace the one stolen.
A new bathroom, because it’s needed replacement since we moved in.
A new kitchen – ditto.
A new roof – necessity.
A new Pop Hits book.

6 – Gluttony. Seven guilty pleasures.

Banana bread.
Zucchini bread.
Carrot cake.
Strawberry ice cream.
Fig Newtons.
Lasagna.
Just about any fruit pie (apple, cherry, blueberry, strawberry rhubarb)

7 – Lust. Seven love secrets.

Smart women are inherently sexier than not-so-smart women.
Massage is good, to give or receive.
In terms of talking, less is usually more.
A good, moral center is definitely helpful.
A good sense of humor is overrated unless it’s the same KIND of sense of humor.
Confidence goes a long way.
Being socially aware of others generally means you have less time to be stuck on yourself.

Rock Hall QUESTION

I saw the film Afterglow on Presidents Day weekend of 1998, and Somewhere by Tom Waits was particularly affecting.

“Neil Diamond and Alice Cooper are among the musicians who will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2011. Tom Waits, Darlene Love, and Dr. John will also join the class of 2011… Other honorees will include Jac Holzman, Leon Russell, and Art Rupe.”

Those nominees who were not chosen for induction this year were Bon Jovi, the Beastie Boys, LL Cool J. Laura Nyro, Joe Tex, Chic, Donovan, J. Geils Band, Donna Summer, and Chuck Willis.

And I remember in the early days of the Rock Hall, which I visited in May of 1998 – they had tributes to recently deceased Carls, Wilson, and Perkins – that I was actually excited who got in. And now it’s, “Meh.”

Whereas I still care about the Baseball Hall of Fame, and to a lesser degree, the Football Hall of Fame. (I need to get to Canton someday.)

Maybe it’s because the notion of “merit” in the rock hall seems even fuzzier; it’s not strictly commercial appeal, for certain. One can argue the inclusion or exclusion of sports figures in their respective halls. But the music selections seem more arbitrary.

What do you think? And what is your favorite song by the inductees, if any? Here are mine:
Alice Cooper-School’s Out
Neil Diamond- Thank the Lord for the Night Time
Dr. John- Right Place, Wrong Time
Darlene Love- Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)
Leon Russell- Roll Over, Beethoven
Tom Waits- Somewhere [From West Side Story], used as the outro to the 1997 movie Afterglow; I saw that film on Presidents Day weekend of 1998, and the song was particularly affecting.

Anniversary

“I may be a headache, but never a bore.”

My parents were married on March 12, 1950, in Binghamton, NY. I always found that very convenient to remember; I would often say that I was their early third-anniversary present.

When their 50th anniversary was coming up – in 2000 (easy math!) – my sisters and I were trying to plan a surprise party at my parents’ church in Charlotte, NC. The only trouble was that there was an occasional conflict with the date, which was a Sunday. It turns out that my father was ALSO planning a surprise anniversary party at the church, for my mother. Once we were apprised of that fact, we gave up trying to surprise them both and concentrated on her.

So my sister flew in from San Diego, and my parents-in-law, my wife and I drove down from upstate New York, staying at a local hotel. My father did most of the decorations of the room at the church. my father needed to rest more often than he did just months before when he was primarily in charge of decorating the church for Carol’s and my wedding in May of 1999.

The family did meet before that Sunday morning; I suspect my mother figured something was up even before that. But we managed to keep her away from the decorated room.

During the service itself, much to my surprise, and definitely to my mother’s, there was a renewal of my parents’ wedding vows. (Whether my father knew, I was never able to ascertain.) I’m positive that when the pastor brought her up and ask her whether she’d marry him all over again, she did think about it for a few seconds before saying, “Yes.” Undoubtedly, what ran through her mind is a quote she attributed to my father, which I heard him say once or twice, but which she repeated regularly: “I may be a headache, but never a bore.”

After the church service, we had a lovely party, and we kids DID manage to surprise both of them with a video of some still photos, put together with music. Interestingly, we never got a family photo taken, as we had in 1995 and in 1990, maybe because the process was too fraught with drama – a tale for another time. In any case, that was my parents’ last anniversary together – until now, if you believe in an afterlife – because my father died on August 10 of that year from prostate cancer.

This is what their joint headstone reads:
Leslie Harold Green
9-26-1926 8-10-2000
(Military Info…)
Les
Renaissance Man

Gertrude Elizabeth Green
11-17-1927 2-2-2011
Trudy
Wind Beneath Our Wings

Black History Month

As an introit, they did a staggeringly magnificent staggering arrangement of Don McLean’s Babylon.

Back in December (or maybe mid-November), I had called a meeting for people at my church interested in working on Black History Month to come to a meeting; no one came. So decided just to do it (largely) myself.

One of the pastors had recommended this series A History of Racism in the United States from an entity called the Thoughtful Christian way back in May of last year, and it looked OK to jumpstart a discussion.

The Adult Education Committee, which I’m on, decided to try an experiment with two different offerings in January. On January 30, it would be my BHM part 1 v. the last piece of a study of the gospel of Mark. People wanted to do both, but ultimately, Mark won out and I had three or four people. My ego wasn’t affected, of course. Of course, it wasn’t. My ego wasn’t affected. Yeah, right. Still, it was an interesting discussion.

It was fortunate that February 6 would be a joint FOCUS service, albeit at our church, so there would be no adult ed programming. So, since I knew I’d be going down to Charlotte, I asked someone, Annette from the choir by name, to get some folks to bring in some artifacts for a display, and she/they did.

February 13, I was scheduled to lead class #2 about racism. I had come back from Charlotte only a couple of days before and the wife, the daughter, and I were still all EXHAUSTED. Somehow, did adult ed while Lydia did Sunday school, then we all went out to eat.

I had secured the speaker for February 20, who sent me an URGENT message that I needed to meet with him the Thursday before that Sunday at 6 pm. So I did, and he decided he wanted me to “interview” him for the Adult Ed class he was leading.

The drag was that, since I was with him on Thursday evening, I couldn’t be at choir that night. Thursday evening has a particular ritual that I’ve been enjoying of late. I take the bus from work to downtown, buy and eat a gyro, go to the library and look at the books for sale, then go on one of the computers and work on my blog for an hour, the only practically guaranteed blogging window I have each week. Then I go to choir. Interrupting the ritual, while ultimately useful, and arguably necessary – face-to-face DOES work better than e-mail – it really, as they used to say “harshed my mellow.”

The morning of the 20th, the speaker, Donald Hyman, was great in the sermon at the 8:30 service, the 9:30 bit on Fredrick Douglass, and again at the 10:45 service’s sermon, which was somewhat different.

There is this presentation of something called the kente cloth each year, and there had been folks lobbying me that a certain older member of the congregation gets one as well. I don’t generally pick the person, but I might have forwarded these e-mails to the folks who do, had I not been…distracted by the month’s events. The cloths were presented to Donald and to the choir director, Michael Lister.

Now, because I missed both Thursday night rehearsal AND Sunday morning rehearsal, I couldn’t sing in the choir; just didn’t know the music. It’s always strange for me to be in the congregation when the choir is singing. As an introit, they did a staggeringly magnificent arrangement of Don McLean’s Babylon, which I had talked about with Michael before I went to Charlotte. It’s based on Psalm 137, one of Donald’s suggested texts; the music was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard in my life. Later, the choir did a version of Wade in the Water, with a guest soloist from the College of Saint Rose; Donald said the group compared favorably with the Fisk Jubilee Singers; I had the strong sense that most of the congregation didn’t know who the Fisk Jubilee Singers are. The offertory was some song I did not know. But it had lyrics about “my mother going home to glory” and I sobbed.

February 25, I had ordered a cake, and folks, including my wife, cooked. Again I led Adult Education. I also sang, and I was fine until the recessional, which was Lift Every Voice and Sing. It must be that I associate it with my home church, or maybe it’s the part about ancestors, and I have no direct living forebearers. In any case, my voice cracked. Afterward, I just wept uncontrollably.

Since Lent is so late this year, on March 6, I led the fourth segment of the workshop.

This particular BHM was PARTICULARLY draining. And I’m not going even get into the conversations about race and racism, except to say this: I’m now convinced more than ever that the discussion about race in America is NOT finished.