Anniversary # four squared

The Wife is NOT the easiest person to shop for.

Carol_Lydia.2010.IMG026Some totally random stuff re: My Spouse and Myself:

The first movie we ever saw together was Speed, probably the least representative of the films we generally see together.

Our anniversary is roughly halfway between my birthday and hers.

There are relatively few pictures of us alone together. Quite a few with her and the Daughter, usually taken by me.

Every year around St. Patrick’s Day, she reminds me how she had me cook corned beef for hours, at her house, and then we didn’t even eat it.

I was overwhelmed by her extended family, especially meeting them at the Olin family reunion in 1995. Her mother had seven siblings, so my wife had about 35 first cousins. MY parents had zero siblings, and I have zero first cousins.

She does the REAL cooking, and all of the baking. I do the stuff that you can make with a mix, or things that can be cooked on a stove (eggs, e.g.) or microwave, so I usually do more of the kitchen cleanup. Though, occasionally I’ll make a ton of lasagna.

I suppose the first TV show we watched together was Gilmore Girls. The only thing we watch together now, and only occasionally, is Who Do You Think You Are. Everything else either has been canceled (Boston Public) or we gave up on it (American Idol) or both (Glee).

It’s probably my influence whereby she realizes the value of seeing the movie in the cinema, rather than on DVD.

My favorite place we visited together is probably Niagara Falls. The first time was right after her last class one semester in grad school. I went to a conference, and she went along. The only expenses were her meals and incidentals.

I used to give her a lot of grief about being unaware of current/recent events. That happens far less often, which is one part her being more aware, and one part me being less of a pain about it. She is a WHOLE lot more politically aware than when I met her, and surely is less likely to believe that right usually wins out. Oh, dear, she’s more cynical, and it’s probably my influence.

She is NOT the easiest person to shop for. She doesn’t hint, only makes lists when I beg her to do so.

It still makes me crazy when she moves something from point A to point B, making a need to “put away” stuff at the latter location. It was FINE behind the sofa…

Our single most source of disagreement has to do with lights at night. I like to keep the hall light on downstairs, in case I get up in the middle of the night, because I’m really night blind. She finds even that amount of light problematic. We had the same problem on vacation this spring, with the light in the bathroom on, but with the door closed, was too bright for her and too dark for me. (One of our church choir members recently broke a toe ramming into a dresser in the middle of the night; that could be me!) The solution was a little flashlight that the Daughter has borrowed, and I can’t find anymore.

She continues to be late more often than she’d acknowledge, usually because she squeezes in some last-minute task; I’ve learned to have reading material for such inevitability.

This is strange, even arcane. There’s a couple who got married six months before we did, and another couple who got married six months after us; we went to both weddings. All of the couples are members of our church, but NONE of the couples were members when they got betrothed.
***
Love to you, dear.

The 10th anniversary of this here blog

If someone were to ask me what advice I’d give a prospective blogger, it would to write two, maybe three posts before launching the first.

10th AnniversaryToday being the tenth anniversary of the start of the Ramblin’ with Roger blog, with content every single day, I thought I would describe how I started blogging in the first place. I’m sure I’ve told bits and pieces of it before, but like some oft-told tales, the details either become clearer in focus or muddier over time.

I had heard about this thing called the weblog – it was in all the standard press – in the early part of this century. However, I had not actually READ any blogs. Therefore, I concluded, without a single strain of evidence, the same thing that most “everyone” else was saying, that blogs were self-indulgent bits of drivel designed for people far more self-absorbed than I.

Then, in October 2004, I see my friend Rocco, who I knew from my FantaCo days. He says to me, “Have you been reading Fred’s blog?” Of course, I had not been reading what our mutual friend Fred Hembeck had been writing, and in fact, I had fallen out of touch with him over the previous decade.

So I checked out Fred’s blog and liked it so much that I read his entire backlog of articles, EVERY DAY, going back to January 2003. Since Fred could be, um, wordy, this probably took about three months.

Once I got the feel for the blog, and what one could write in the venue, he quoted FantaCo stories about which I wrote to him (see February 18 and 23, 2005 e.g.) and I even suggested content (March 31 and April 2, 2005). I figure that if I could come up with material for Fred, I ought to be writing for myself.

Now that I was caught up reading Fred’s blog, I started reading some of the many blogs Fred was linked to. One of the professionals was the late Steve Gerber, scribe of Howard the Duck, the Defenders, Man-Thing, and other Marvel fare. He wrote in his inaugural blog post on April 4, 2005, less than a month before I started mine:

I make my living as a writer. There is only one characteristic that distinguishes writers from non-writers: writers write. (That’s why there’s no such thing as an “aspiring writer.” A writer can aspire to sell or publish, but only non-writers aspire to write.) Anyway, writing for a living requires writing every day. Writing every day requires discipline. Discipline requires enforcement.

I’ve lost the habit of writing every day. I need discipline. I need enforcement. You’re looking at it.

I intend to post something on this blog every day. If I fail to do so, that failure will be very public, and I’ll be embarrassed by it. I don’t enjoy being embarrassed. So maybe, just maybe, making this obligation will help transform me into a habitual writer again.

Not that I viewed myself as a “Writer” at the time, or even now. For one thing, I didn’t, and don’t, own any tweed jackets. But I did have a couple of things I wanted to write down. One was about my appearances on the TV show JEOPARDY!, which was taped in September 1998 and aired two months later.
10thAnniversary_(4)
More importantly, though, was a narrative that involved the Daughter, who was born in March of 2004. I had promised myself that I would write something in my print journal regularly; I penned three entries in nine months; clearly, this was not viable. Thus, the promise, to myself, to write about the Daughter in this blog at least once a month, on the 26th, and I have kept to that.

When I actually started blogging on my own, friend Fred plugged my humble efforts, the first time on May 5, 2005. Still, it was tough in the beginning. If someone were to ask me what advice I’d give a prospective blogger, it would write two, maybe three posts before launching the first. Blog post #1 is EASY. Writing the next one is harder. This was made more difficult by the fact that Blogger, my platform at the time, didn’t allow me to schedule ahead, which it does now, thank goodness.

Writing for myself (and Fred and his wife Lynn Moss) was fine, but I started looking at other people Fred was linked to. I’d read their blogs, comment, and eventually built up this coterie of Internet acquaintances such as Lefty Brown, Greg Burgas, Eddie Mitchell, Thom Wade, and Gordon Dymowski, who I actually met in person in 2008 in Chicago. We created a mixed CD exchange for a few years, and through this, developed relationships.

People, some I didn’t even know, such as Scott of the Scooter Chronicles, kept commenting on my blog. Looking back, I have no specific recollection of how Arthur@AmeriNZ or Jaquandor, or SamuraiFrog found me, or maybe I found them. Nor do I recall how I tripped over ABC Wednesday, the meme I now manage.

I DO know how I found Dustbury, though. I was writing about the Warner Brothers Loss Leaders albums that the label put out from about 1969 to 1980, two LPs for two dollars (later three dollars), and he had written the authoritative list. Even better, I got to add an item to the list, an ECM jazz collection, Music with 58 Musicians. From there, I found his blog.

That experience fits into a very comfortable narrative for a librarian of expanding the knowledge base. This blogging thing could be informative, useful.

People who don’t read my blog ask me what my blog is about. I’ve stopped answering, “Why don’t you just read my blog?” Basically, it’s whatever I see on my Bloglovin feed every morning. I look at links from Daily Kos and BoingBoing, but then I tend to read some blogs alphabetically
A for Arthur@AmeriNZ
B for Byzantium Shores (Jaquandor)
C for Chuck Miller
D for Dustbury (Chaz Hill)
E is for Evanier, Mark (News from Me)
F is for Frog, SamuraiFrog
G is for Geek, Eddie Mitchell, the Renaissance Geek

Then I go to my old blog I abandoned in 2010 in favor of this one, and see who else might have updated recently, such as my CD exchange buddies, plus Dan Van Riper’s albanyweblog, Tosy and Cosh, Nippertown, Pantheon Songs, Lisa’s Peripheral Perceptions, Anthony Velez, and Melanie Boudwin. I skim all of that, and if they’ve not written what’s on my heart that day, I write it. If they have, I link to theirs.

That’s how I blog every day. EASY!

Les & Trudy

I am fascinated by the long-ago recollections by others of my parents.

les and trudyA few months ago, on a Binghamton listserv I follow, I was a tad startled to read, seemingly out of the blue, in response to someone else’s comment:

Q: Do you know who Leslie Greene is/was? he was born in 1927 became very close friends with my parents, he was black, his wife was white…I believe he was elected commissioner in the 70’s.

John (who’s about a decade older than I, and went to my church): Sadly the LESLIE GREEN that I knew passed away some years ago. His son Roger Green is a member of the I AM FROM BINGHAMTON NY site. Knew LES & his Wife as the GREEN Family was a major part of our TRINITY AME ZION CHURCH and active in the general African American Community and the General Binghamton NY area… Continue reading “Les & Trudy”

John Lennon: #9 Dream

JohnLennon_tapeThis is the anniversary of John Lennon’s death, which I always remember. Obviously, he was taken by the number nine. He was born on the 9th of October (1940), as was his son Sean (1975).

Reportedly, The Beatles’ manager Brian Epstein first saw them perform on the 9th of December, 1961. “Beatles experts might dispute the actual date, but John Lennon recalled November 9, 1966 as the date when he first met Yoko Ono.”

He even died on the 9th, in British time. The owner of FantaCo, Tom Skulan, reminded me that, after I got the word – on Monday Night Football, no less – I called him, and others, with the sad news.

He included the number 9 in many of his songs, such as Revolution #9. LISTEN to #9 Dream from his 1974 album Walls and Bridges. The single coincidentally peaked at number 9 on the Billboard Hot 100 US charts.
***
Who Was the Walrus? Analyzing the Strangest Beatles Song, which you can LISTEN to.

The writing exercise, in which Dad’s paintings appear

Those particular creations represent a certain impermanence, not unlike life itself in general, and my father’s life, which ended August 10, 2000, in particular.

painting
Back in May, I participated in this ninety-minute writing class from a woman named Diane Cameron. Among many other things, she’s a freelance writer who appears in the local newspaper regularly.

The directive was to think of three doors that were important in your life. Then you write about one of them for four minutes. And by “writing,” this means not taking the pen off the paper, not editing, just letting the words take us where they would.

The first door was the outside door at 5 Gaines Street, Binghamton, NY, the house in which I lived for the first 18 years of my life. We lived in a two-family dwelling, so this was the door to the hallway. It was very thick, as I recall, painted white, with green trim.

Inside the first-floor dwelling was the living room, very tiny by today’s standards. The remarkable thing, though, was the fact that my father painted on the walls. I don’t mean he hung his paintings on the wall, but that he painted art directly ONTO the walls.

The picture above was located between two of the windows in the front of the house. I think it was a re-creation of some painting he had admired, though I couldn’t tell you what. It seems that the colors were muted oranges, and tans, and maybe greens.

On the opposite wall was a sharp contrast: a mountain scene, all blue and black and gray and white. Very forceful and bright, where other painting was subtle and subdued. (The woman was dad’s mother, Agatha, who lived upstairs with her husband, and would die less than two years after this photo was taken.)

The feeling I got from the writing exercise was of some significant sadness. Those pictures are long gone, like the solar system he painted on my ceiling, or the Felix the Cat he created for my sisters’ bedroom. Other paintings and drawings and writings he created live on. So those particular creations represent a certain impermanence, not unlike life itself in general, and his life, which ended August 10, 2000, in particular.

I had thought of those paintings many times before. But only after this writing exercise did they resonate so greatly. Thanks, Diane, I think.
grandma green_Mt pic

Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial