MEME: The Joy of Playing Music Together

 

Being Together January 21, 2021

We had our second music practice this evening for the University of Chicago Middle Eastern Music Ensemble in preparation for the Persian Concert. 

The truth of the matter is that it is not really a music practice and we are not actually going to have a concert.  In these pandemic times, there will not be a concert.   Instead, we are preparing to record two music videos to release on YouTube.  Instead of practicing, which is hard to do with forty musicians on Zoom, we are reviewing the music by sectionals:  strings, percussion, woodwinds, and traditional instruments.  We are reviewing the process and protocols of how to record our parts at home, mostly, on our phones. 

Last year at this time, we were practicing together at the Logan Center at the Univeristy of Chicago.  We practiced for eight weeks and presented our concert two Saturdays before we went on lockdown.  We did two performances that day.  One in the afternoon and the other in the evening.  They were excellent and given we have not been together since very memorable.

In our Zoom call this evening, we watched a video from those concerts.  It was of the song that we will be recording this year.  While watching it, the chat was full of messages of the members of our ensemble expressing how much they were missing being together for both practices and the concerts.  We break into small groups in the middle of our Zoom call each week.  The purpose is to allow a bit of socializing and discussing the song and any concerns we have with recording it.  In the breakout I participated in, we were talking about how hard it could be to record a single track, how we all recorded it over and over again, and how we weren’t happy with the final version we uploaded that was used in the video.  We missed being in the ensemble, playing in our section, how much easier it was to fit in a meld when the people around you were playing the same part you were.

Being Together January 18, 2020

The bottom line is that we missed being together and playing together.  The whole country, the whole world, is feeling the same way.  We are missing the simple joy of gathering.  I have to note, that it was a year ago today that the first confirmed case of the Corona virus was reported in the state of Washington.

Last week, Facebook highlighted a post I had made last year of photos from the first practice for the Persian Concert.  As Facebook does, it offered me the opportunity to re-post them.  I did.  Members of the ensemble all liked the photos and commented, again, how much they missed our face-to-face practices and the concert.  Our director, Wanees Zarour asked in a comment, “Have you been taking screenshots of the zoom sessions in lieu of the photography?”  I answered, “No, but it is a good idea.”  Wanees then said, “I was joking, but now I’m agreeing with you!!”

So, tonight I took some screenshots during our Zoom call and posted them.

It must be noted that I participated in all this tonight in an aura of sadness.  I learned just before our Zoom call that a good friend was seriously ill with the virus.  He is not expected to make it through the night.  Part of why he is such a good friend, is that he is a talented clarinet player and we played a dozen gigs together in the late 1990s and early 2000s.  We knew each and were friendly before, but we became very good friends from the first time we played together.  He was so easy to work with and we were so naturally compatible and complementary together on stage especially with his son playing the dumbeg.  He is seventeen years my senior, but that generational difference meant nothing.  We were simply good friends that loved to play our music together.  This news about him made everything this evening quite bittersweet.  My thought and prayers are with him and his family.

An Inaugural, Poetry, Blogging Ramble

 

APNews.com

I am sitting here contemplating the day in the evening after the inauguration.  It was a good day on many fronts.  I liked the message Biden delivered in his speech and hope his vision is realized.  The country could use some unity and a shared mission. 

But, I do not want to write about the abyss this evening.  It is exhausting simply because the harder core on both the right and left are relentless and steadfast in their views and unwilling to seek understanding and compromise. 

So, what to write about?

Anything else.

I liked the poem that Amanda Gorman recited:  The Hill We Climb.  I loved the cadence and her use of repeated words and near homonym to enhance and pivot the direction of her message.  She was probably already well known being the first person to be named the National Youth Poet Laureate.  Her wonderful reading today on such a grand stage to such a large audience made here an instant big-time celebrity.  How wonderful for her. 

National Youth Poet Laureate?  Like the National Poet Laureate is awarded from an annual competition sponsored by the Library of Congress.   It began in 2015 by Urban Word NYC an organization that serves and advocates youth writers and writing in New York City.

I hope her appearance and reading of her poem inspires others to write and read more poetry.

In his book, Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury advocate that everyone “Read poetry every day of your life. Poetry is good because it flexes muscles you don’t use often enough. Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition.”  I agree with Bradbury (born August 22, 1920 in Waukegan, IL) though I do not read poetry anywhere close to the frequency he advocated. 

It makes sense for the reason Bradbury noted.  Poetry delivers an intense amount of meaning for the amount of time invested in reading it.  It is the perfect literary art form to enjoy in this fast-paced world.  The problem is poets don’t write for everyman.  The acclaimed and noted poets write are academics who write for an academic audience.  There is no modern-day Henry Wadsworth Longfellow or Edgar Guest who has broad appeal.  There is no Tom Clancy of poetry.  There is no mass market for poetry short of the greeting card poetry of Hallmark.  As her poem is both good and assessable to wide audience, perhaps Amanda Gorman be the catalyst for a revived poetry movement?

As I wrote about Journals earlier this month, I wonder how many people buy journals with the express idea of filling them with poetry?  I would imagine the are countless journals on desks, bookshelves, or tucked away barely, partially, or chock full of poetry of every ilk and style probably never read by anyone but the author.

In googling around in the writing of this post, I came across a website, How to Start a Poetry Blog (And Make Money).  It is on a site called One Hour Professor.  The fellow behind this, Ron Stefanski, is Chicago based and claims that after eight years he is making $20,000 a month. 

Heck, I have been blogging for eleven years, including a poetry blog, and have yet to make dime one.

What a slacker.

Inauguration Eve

 

So far in this new year, each Wednesday has been a historic day.  January 6^th was the day that Electoral College votes were accepted by Congress and the election of Joe Biden as the next President was finalized and certified.  It was also the day that a mob of President Trump’s supporters stormed and overran the US Capitol.  A short week later on January 13^th, the House of Representatives impeach President Trump for an unprecedented second time. 

Tomorrow, the third Wednesday of this new year, will also be a historical day.  It is the day Joe Biden and Kamala Harris will be inaugurated as the President and Vice-President of the United States.  While January 6^th was a day that will live in infamy and January 13^th was a day that showed how fast and determined the House could react after their brush with thugs who meant to do them harm, tomorrow should be a good day.  We are inaugurating a President who will bring much needed decorum back to the office.  We will have a President that tweets and insults people less.  We will have the first woman Vice-President ever… and a woman of color as a bonus.

Tomorrow, Wednesday the 20^th, is also the first day of my classes for the Spring term.  I have two undergraduate classes that start bright and early in the morning.  It will be good to back in the swing of things albeit in the half online half face-to-face mode of teaching we have been doing for the past year.  I have two classes Operations Management at 8 am and the Principles of Microeconomics at 9:15.

Both the Inauguration and my classes will be virtual events tomorrow.  My classes are that way due to these pandemic times.  The inauguration is will be virtual even though 26,000 people will be in attendance.  Those 26,000 in attendance are not citizens who have travelled to Washington from the corners of the country to witness the transfer of power from one President to the next.  No, the 26,000 I am talking about are all law enforcement, National Guard, and military personnel and troops on duty with one explicit mission: to ensure that the event runs smoothly without any of the mayhem that happened a fortnight ago. 

Besides the 26,000 troops and officers, 200,000 American, state, and territory flags have been installed covering the entire National Mall.  They are to represent all people who otherwise would have been there to witness this historic event.  This impressive field of flags will be illuminated in the evening by 56 pillars of light which also represent the 56 states and territories.

Earlier tonight, on the eve of their inauguration the President-elect and Vice-President participated in a memorial service honoring all that have died due to the Corona virus.  This solemn acknowledgement is a most welcome break from the past and signals what will be a different and hopefully more effective response to the pandemic.

On this quiet snowy evening in Chicago, I am typing this piece while sipping on a half-full glass of good American bourbon in honor of our new President.  I truly hope he can move us to a better and more unified state of the union.

For the Love of the Music: Thanks Dad!

 

It is good to reflect on the people that influenced, inspired, and enabled us to choose and progress in our careers, hobbies, or passions.  When it comes to the music I love and play, I have had many people who influenced, inspired, and enabled me.  I have to thank my mother and father, my maternal aunt Suzie, and my maternal grandmother.  For purposes of this post, I would like to expound about the role my Dad played in all this.

Many of those who knew my Dad, Aram “Sonny” Gavoor, was because he was an awesome track coach.  He dedicated a large portion of his life to coaching young people reach their full potential.  As a coach, he was demanding, energetic, and enthusiastic.  He pushed his athletes to do their best, to achieve, and, actually, to over-achieve.  At his wake and funeral in June 2018, the church was full of people he had coached, and they all related stories of how he pushed and motivated them and how those lessons of hard work and perseverance have stayed with them all of their lives.

When it came to music, Coach Gavoor inspired and motivated me in a completely different manner.  He was not demanding nor energetic in his motivation, but he was enthusiastic and basically influenced me by example.  He loved the music.  He listened to music all the time at home.  He listened to Armenian, Greek, Arabic, and Turkish.  He loved it all.  On Saturday afternoons, we would listen to three radio hours back-to-back starting at 4 pm on WMZK.  First, he listed to the Arab Hour.  It was followed by the Armenian and then the Greek.  He listened to records a lot as well.  We had a small house.  We had one record player and one radio.  Because he listened to a lot music, I basically listened to a lot of this music.  I got to really like what he really liked. And what he really liked is music in the intersection of Armenian, Greek, and Turkish.

As we listened, we would talk about the songs we liked.  He would tell me stories of the musicians he grew listening to with his father.  It is multi-generational love of this music.

In reading what I just wrote and applying a wee bit of logic, it would be easy to draw a conclusion that I love this music because of my environment; basically, for behavioral reasons.  But the poet in me doesn’t abide by this and believes the love for this music is in my genetic code.  My mathematician and statistician third of the brain is open to it being a mixture of both nature and nurture.

Dad had a decent record collection; nothing crazy or off the charts like folks I know have today.  He would buy records when we would visit Watertown each summer.  It was there he bought Portraits of the Middle Eastern by the Gomidas Band of Philadelphia and a dozen 45s of the inimitable Stelios Kazantzidis singing Greek-Turkish.  The record labels were in Greek, so I never learned the name of the singer.  In the 1990s, I realized how famous the singer was and how fortunate enough I was to be exposed in those formative years to such a talent.  Thanks Dad.  I have a CD version of those songs and listen to them still.

In Detroit, I believe he bought his albums in Greektown.  He bought an album of a Greek clarinetist named Peter Kara.  He loved that album and literally wore it out he played it so much.  I liked it too and believed Peter Kara to famous and well known.  In this case, no Greek musicians I have ever asked heard of this fellow.  He was famous in our house, however.  Thanks Dad.

There was another significant album my Dad bought in Greektown.  It was called Music of the Harems on the Nina label.  I was mesmerized by this album from the first listen.  It was a compilation of songs from older 78s and 45s.  There were four groups featured on this album of eleven selections.  Six of the cuts featured the Şükrü Tunar Orchestra, two are from Melahat Mardin, two of the Şen Sisters, and one of the Haydar Tatilay Orchestra.  I loved all the selections on this album almost from the first listen.  The cuts I first liked best were two by the Şükrü Tunar Orchestra:  Lorke lorke and Şükrü Tunar playing  a Clarinet Taksim.  It was the first taksim I ever liked.  Indeed, I picked a good one.  I came to learn that in my late teens that  Şükrü Tunar is, arguably, the best Turkish clarinetist ever and this was his signature taksim.  Thanks Dad.

From this album, I learned Burçak Tarlasi (Şen Sisters) and another song by Melahat Mardin, Gülerken Ben Ağlıyordum.  I learned to play this last song by memory long after I moved out of my parents’ house and left the album behind.  I just knew the melody simply from having listened to it so much.  Thanks Dad.  It is one of my favorite tunes that very few musicians I know play.

We did a performance in which the clarinetist a particular zeybeg.  When he started playing it, it was Ege Zeybeg from this album.  I had never played it but I had listened to the Şükrü Tunar rendition so many times that I was able to play along with him.  Thanks Dad.

My Dad motivated and educated me without my ever knowing.  He just pursued a passion of his and I enjoyed it along with him.  He motivated me by his example.          

 

Here is the Nina Album on YouTube.  Enjoy. 

 

Bewilderment and Concern

 

The inauguration of President Elect Joe Biden is January 20^th; three days from today.  After the events of the past two Wednesdays, security is at an unprecedented level in Washington, DC as well as at many state capitals.  The ease at which the insurrectionists broke into the US Capitol and disrupted the ceremonial affirmation of the results of the Electoral College showed how unprepared the Capitol security forces were.  Their intelligence was lacking.  Perhaps the most worrisome thing about that day was how long it took for back-up to respond. 

This leads to speculate and investigation if this were more deeply planned and possibly involved government or security personnel.  This makes us look like a tin-horn republic.

Members of Congress experienced moments of terror and fear in a place they never would have expected to be confronted with such.  The takeover exposed a vulnerability that shook them to their core.  Based on this and some actual threatening communications have made some in Congress afraid to go it public for fear of attack and even assassination.  The reaction of this past Wednesday was that the House of Representatives impeached President Trump for an unprecedented second time.

For this coming Wednesday, Inauguration Day, the reaction is that there is an unbelievable amount of security forces in Washington.  Certainly, all Federal and DC law enforcement in the capital area are mobilized.  On top of that, the National Guard of DC and surrounding states have been called into service for this week.  One report said there are more troops in DC than in Afghanistan and Iraq combined.  This is astonishing.

The troops were called up so quickly that they were not properly outfitted for the mission.  There were many photos of uniformed troops sleeping on the floor of the Capitol without blanket, pillow, or sleeping bag not to mention cots.  They appeared to be asleep in their uniforms they wore all day and would have to wear the next day.  This gives the appearance of unpreparedness.  It makes our military look, and I can’t believe I am saying this, less American and more third world.

Even more bizarre, per the New York Times on January 14:

The Pentagon was sufficiently concerned that members of the military might have taken part in the attack — or at least supported it — that the Joint Chiefs of Staff issued an unusual message to all military personnel this week, reminding them that President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. would soon be their commander in chief and that they were duty bound to defend the Constitution.

Is this an overreaction?  Or are we closer to civil war or losing our democracy than most of us think?  I am at a loss to even fathom a guess.

The New York Times goes on to say:

Such preparations and precautions were necessary because the F.B.I. had picked up “an extensive amount of concerning online chatter” and was trying to discern between “aspirational” plots and actual threats, the bureau’s director, Christopher A. Wray, said in a televised briefing with Vice President Mike Pence. Mr. Wray said the scores of arrests already made in last week’s riot — and the fact that agents have so far identified about 200 suspects altogether — should “serve as a very stern warning to anyone else who might be inclined” to return to Washington to commit more violence.

Talk about appearances?  This shakes our credibility with our allies and makes us look weak and vulnerable to our enemies.  When I have written about the end of the American Century, I thought it would be more China becoming the largest economy in the world and that we would have to get used to being number two in terms of GDP and global influence.  I never thought we could possibly ever get to what we are experiencing now.

It would be convenient to blame Trump. In my view, he certainly blames part of the guilt.  But there is so much anger and unhappiness on both sides of chasm that tells me, he as much a consequence of a deep long-standing malaise than a perpetrator of all this.   And I am not letting him off of the hook for what happened on January 6 by any means.

I hope that the inauguration goes smoothly and without incident.  I hope President Biden fulfills his promise to be President of all the people takes a more centrist and unifying approach to… everything. 

Procrastination Revisited

 

As I do not remotely relate to this quote,
it is perfect for this piece :)

Why oh why…

Why do I procrastinate?  Why do I need the pressure of an impending deadline to get my ass in gear and get to work?

There are no good answers to this question.  It is simple as that.  If I haven’t answered or solved the question by this point in my life, I doubt that I ever will.

Did I say “will?”

Yes, I did.  I believe I have free will as most of do.  But that is not the kind of will I am talking about here.

I am talking about will in the sense of grit, determination, and intestinal fortitude, to work unceasingly to accomplish something.  That something in this case is to change a habit, to get out of a rut forged over decades.  Yes, that is the ticket:  grit, determination, and intestinal fortitude.  Or, as Nike has eloquently stated:  Just do it.

For years, i have tried to camouflage it as an operations management methodology called Just-in-Time.  I wrote a piece, Procrastination or JIT?, in July of 2018.   I really have nothing to add in terms of diagnosis.  I believe I covered it all in that piece.

I know what to do, or rather, I think that I know what I ought to do.  But as I have often cited my favorite motivational quote: Knowing never equals doing!  Heck, I gave someone advice just this week about beating procrastination.  Yes, you read that correctly.  It was an old German proverb:  start to sew and God will provide the thread.   Even back in July 2018, I provided a graphic:  The best way to get something done is to begin. 

The knowledge is there.  Smarter folks than I have encapsulated age old truths into these wonderful motivational quotes.  I should make posters, photos, and prints of all these brilliant motivational epitaphs and plaster my walls and desktops both physical and virtual.  Maybe this would help me generate or muster the will to beat this procrastination thing once and for all.  Just do it!  Grit, determination, and intestinal fortitude.  Never ever give up.  This thing can’t beat me!

Well…

It has won every battle thus far in the war. 

Don’t fret dear friends.  I am not depressed.  I actually have a big smile (stupid grin?) on my face as I type this.

The bottom line is that we all learn to cope and compensate we slalom, muddle, or stumble around the obstacles and achieve whatever it is we think we want.  If we are moderately content, why fret it so?  Again, another question I cannot answer. 

I am moderately content.  All in all, that is a good thing.

So why worry about a little procrastination here and there?  Finally, a good question.

I think I yearn for a clean desk, a trim and fit physique, and a proactive work ethic simply because, I want to do things with style and savoir faire.

Savoir faire?  How did this little diatribe on procrastination end up here at me wanting “a polished sureness in social behavior?”

Maybe I have been unsuccessful in beating this thing because I wasn’t doing it for me but rather how I wanted to be perceived by… all of you?

That stupid grin on my face has turned in a hearty laugh at loud.

Well, at least I had some fun writing this ramble.

Memories

 

events.carleton.ca

My friend Ruth, from Connecticut, commented on yesterday’s post, The House of the Seven Uncles.  She noted that she never made it to one of those Club 27 evenings.  A mutual friend always told her she was going and then reported “what a great time was had by all.”  Then she wrote something that has been with me all day: “Funny how everything just ends up being only a memory.”

I read it several times and been mulling over it all day.  I concluded it was obvious, simple, and profound all at the same time.  Everything we do or experience becomes a memory or potential memory the moment we need the past tense to relate it. 

Our lives are a tapestry of memories.  Sometimes we create our memories by the places we go or the things we do or say.  Likewise, the actions and words of others create memories.  Yet other memories are created by random events.  Memories can happy or sad.  They can be touching or painful.  Or memories can be subtle, neutral, nothing special and, yet they stay with us as vividly as the most pleasurable or painful things that have ever happened to us.  In this latter case, there is no rhyme or reason why one particular iteration of a routine activity becomes a strong memory.

Some of us seem to remember everything.  Others blissfully live in the present.  Some of us dwell and obsess in the past while others fret not about things that have already happened and cannot be altered.

We accumulate memories with each passing year.  As we get older, we hold on to some memories, good or bad, over others.  We should cherish them but not let them dominate or control our lives.  For many of us, we seem to need to tell everyone about them with increasing frequencies, sometimes over and over again to the people we love the most. 

As we age, memory can fade, and we have a hard time recalling things.  Special memories, again good or bad, can get exaggerated so they only bear a trace of what really happened.  Then there is dementia in its various forms.  I knew a fellow who could remember details about his experiences from thirty years ago, but couldn’t remember what he had for lunch just an hour ago.   

Some writers write in part to preserve and illuminate their memories.  In this blog, the pieces with the most hits are when I reminisce warmly about life growing up.  Music is another way we pluck and resonate the strings of our memory.   There are many quotes about memories.  There were some quotes that were a bit dark and focus on how memories can tear you up.  I like the more positive ones.   Here are a few of my favorites.

• Memory is the scribe of the soul.  ~ Aristotle
• Take care of your memories.  For you cannot relive them.  ~ Bob Dylan
• Unless we remember, we cannot understand. ~ E. M. Forester
• Sometimes you never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. ~ Dr. Suess
• When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it happened or not.  ~ Mark Twain
• The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.  ~ Frederich Nietzche
• The more a man can forget, the greater the number of metamorphoses which his life can undergo, the more he can remember the more divine his life becomes.  ~ Søren Kierkegaard
• Vanity play lurid tricks with our memory.  ~ Joseph Conrad
• Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.  ~ Stephen Wright
• Every man’s memory is his private literature.  ~ Aldous Huxley

Yes, “everything just ends up being only a memory.”  I think this is a good thing.  Memories a part of life and being alive.  Thank you for inspiring this post Ruth.

The House of the Seven Uncles

 

Instead of doing what I should have been doing, I decided to go for a car ride this morning.  Yes, this was a direct influence of two recent blogs: Pretend Commutes and A New, Even Older, Car.  Also, according to the weather app on my phone, this morning was the last nice bit of weather in the next five days and I wanted to drive my new toy.

Besides stepping on the gas on the highway, I wanted to kick the tires on the sound system.  Being a 2005, the sound system only took CDs.  There are no USB inputs.  The main panel takes one CD at a time, but there is a 5 CD changer behind the driver’s seat.  Because it is a used car, the CD magazine was missing.  So, I went old school and changed one CD at a time. 

The first CD I played was an old American Armenian Classic:  The House of the Seven Uncles.  It really sounded fabulous on the sound system.  I played it twice on the little tour of Lake Forest and neighboring towns. 

This album was released in the late 60’s or early 70’s.  When I first listened to it, I was not particularly fond of it, though I did like the three vocal cuts on the album.  What was not to like, the vocalist on the album was none other than the great Onnik Dinkjian.  I do believe, this was just before he became the megastar in Armenian circles that we know him as today. 

Why was I not particularly fond of this very good album back then?  I am not entirely sure.  Part of the reason had to be because of my preferences back then.  I really liked John Berberian, Hachig Kazarian, Richard Hagopian, and George Mgrdichian.  Basically, I listened to their various albums and compared everything else to their talent and performances.  To me, this album just didn’t measure up.  Other than Onnik, I really didn’t know any of the musicians on The House of the Seven Uncles.  While I aspired to play like John, Richard, and George, they were miles ahead of me.  I wondered if I would ever be able to play like them (and I ain’t there yet).  The oud player on this Seven Uncles album, Ken Boyajian, was better than me then but by a much lesser margin than John, Richard, and George.  Thus, I found the album to be… OK.

The House of the Seven Uncles was issued on vinyl.  To my knowledge it was never issued on cassette or CD to the general public.  I was playing at a church picnic in New York when we lived in Connecticut.  It was the late 1990s or the early 2000s.  One of the musicians on this album, I want to say Arthur Boyajian who I did not really know, came up to me and introduced himself.  We chatted for a bit and then gave me a copy of the album on a CD he had made for private distribution.  I thought that was very nice and I thanked him.

On the way home from the gig, I played the CD in the car.  I quickly realized how much my younger self had undervalued this album.  First off, each of the eight selections on this album are part of my repertoire.  Five of them I first heard first on this album!  Second, I was really impressed by the musicianship and the tight sound these New York/New Jersey guys had.  I really liked Ken Boyajian’s oud and the clarinet player Stephen Boghosian.  In my youth, I did not really care for the

accordion of Arthur Nercessian.  Three decades later, I really appreciated his excellent playing that gave the band a thicker sound and great cohesiveness.  Together, this group was very clean, in sync, very articulate, and had great interpretations of each selection. 

These guys were all a generation older than me.  By the time, I moved to New York they were no longer playing together.  The leader and oud play, Ken Boyajian had move to Florida. 

I had the opportunity to play a couple of wedding gigs, however, with Steve Bogoshian.  It was a real treat.  He was a very good and easy to work with clarinetist.  The second time we played, we had a chance to talk more.  I told him how much I admired his playing and he thanked me.  He let me know that he wasn’t playing much.  He said, “No own hires me anymore, I think they all think I am dead.”  He passed away shortly thereafter.

Club 27 was a brilliant concept, basically a makeshift nightclub, in the basement hall of St. Illuminators Cathedral in Manhattan.  It had a loyal following of Kef music and dancing aficionados.  The concept was simple.  Whoever played there split the very modest gate with the church.  The pay was really minimal, but it became a badge of honor to play there.  The best musicians and bands all wanted to play there.  One summer evening, they featured the Boyajian brothers and I believe Stephen Bogoshian.  I am not sure of the rest of the band maybe it was some combination of Ara Dinkjian, David Attarian, and Johnno Dolbashian.  I honestly do not recall. 

I had to go.  I always wanted to hear Ken Boyajian play live. 

I was a great evening.  The music was really good, entertaining, and fulfilling from a kef perspective.  What really impressed me, though, was the gathering of all of Ken’s friends, contemporaries, and thus his natural fans.  The small hall was jam-packed.  Ken played, they danced, and they all fed off each other’s energy and enjoyment.  It was a great to see and experience it. 

Oddly, I sensed this was the last dance I would ever attend where I would be the youngest person in the room… and I was fifty years old at the time.

It was great to hear The House of the Seven Uncles again.  It was the perfect choice for this morning’s car ride and perhaps the next.

 

Here is Amenu' Daran, a Dickranagerdsi folk song, sung by Onnik Dinkjian in the local, Kaghketsi, dialect.

 

 

Another Historical Day

 

This is another historic day in the history of this country.  It was the first time in our 245-year history that a President has been impeached twice.  Yes, it is a historical day but not in any joyful way.

We are so divided along partisan lines; I wonder if anything can bring us together.  President Elect Biden seems to want to bridge the divide, but it will be a very tough challenge given the chasm that exists.  I truly wish him well in his efforts to do so.

I am not a fan of Donald Trump’s, but half of the country is.  They are devoted to him in ways I really cannot fathom.  In turn they cannot understand how people dislike him so much.   There seems to be no middle ground.  Everyone needs to make efforts to understand the other perspective.

I was talking with a friend of mine from my Colgate days yesterday.  We were talking about this State of Union we find ourselves in.  He grew-up in the former Soviet Union, he brought up a notion that was rumbling around in my head.  He was concerned that Twitter and Facebook could basically censor or cut-off someone, in this case the President of the of the United States.  He couldn’t help but wonder if we are setting a bad precedent and jeopardizing the Freedom of Speech that is such a fundamental right in this country.

Now, I am not a lawyer nor a student of the US Constitution.  My son is much more educated and gifted in these areas.  But my friend had a point that seriously has to be considered.  Half the country basically believes that it is horrible that the President of the United States can be censored like this.  The rest believe that it is about time someone cut him off from spewing incessant lies.  Which side is right?  Which side is wrong? 

A black and white view of the world is convenient.  You don’t have to think.  You simply accept whatever the point of view that you have chosen and get to react to circumstances and events from that perspective.  No further thought or analysis is needed.  Want proof?  Fox News or MSNBC have done it all for you and provide all the arguments you should need to agree with like-minded folks or to counter-punch those that don’t see your light.  From my perspective the information age of instant news done nothing more than create a system where we are all under the influence of and addiction to confirmation bias.

The problem with the black and white view of things is the world loves dish-up a lot of gray.  Gray looks white to half of us and gray looks black to the other.  It seems very few see gray and try to figure things out and draw their own conclusions

The events of January 6 and the impeachment in the House today had the First Amendment all gray and intertwined in it.  It is good to read what it says now and again:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

The freedom to speak our minds without fear is precious and fundamental.  The example often used to illustrate abuse is from Oliver Wendall Holmes:

The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic. [...] The question in every case is whether the words used are used in such circumstances and are of such a nature as to create a clear and present danger that they will bring about the substantive evils that Congress has a right to prevent.

I am not going to tell you what to think.  You’ve seen the speech in question.  You decide if the words were “of such a nature as to create a clear and present danger.”

That’s all I want to say about it today.

Contagion: Pretend Commutes

 

Vaughn bringing his teacher,
Mrs. K, a present

There was a delightful article in today’s Wall Street Journal:  Welcome to the Fake Office Commute (Turns Out People Miss the Routine).  It seems the people who have been working from home since March, miss commuting.  They miss it to the point where they are creating fake or pretend commutes to fill the gap.

In one sense, it is counter intuitive to want or need to create fake commutes.  After all, not having to commute saves both time and money.  When I don’t have to drive to the university, I save an hour to an hour and a half each day.  I can use that time to work longer or spend more time in my leisure activities or hobbies.  I save on gasoline and put less miles on my car.

On the other hand, the commute is a buffer time between home and office.  This applies whether one walks to work, takes public transportation, or drives.  The commute in is a time to prepare for the day and mull over what is on the agenda.  The commute home is a time to reflect on the workday and decompress in preparation for home life.  There is also something to be said for change of venue.  There is home.  There is being out and about during the commute.  And, there is the workplace. 

Since moving to Chicago, my commuting has involved driving.  In the morning, it is a great time to catch up on the news by listening to NPR’s Morning Edition.  I might stop to get a cup of coffee or get a breakfast sandwich.  On the way home, I alternate between making phones, listening to music, and listening to NPR again.  I might stop off to pick up a few things from the store. 

In the article, people take a walk before starting their workday and maybe do it again at the end.  They actually started this ritual specifically as a pretend commute.  I try to take a walk every day, but I have never regarded it as fake commuting.  I view it as a good way to use the time I saved on commuting.  There was a salesman that takes a drive to get a cup of coffee.  He drives by several local coffee places to pick one up downtown.  Being a salesman, he used to hate fighting traffic to get from one appointment to the next.  A few times a week, he actually goes out to drive around in rush hour traffic… because he misses it.  Commuting is a routine and it is only natural to miss a daily routine and thus try to recreate it in some form or fashion.

I was grinning when I saw the title of The Wall Street Journal Article.  I believe this idea of the creating a fake or rather a ritual commute came from my daughter Armené.  It was back in 2019, well before this Covid-19 pandemic had so many of us working.  Armené and her two sons, Vaughn and Sasoun, were home bound.  They were living the quarantine lifestyle do to Sasoun having Severe Combined Immunodeficiency (SCID), the bubble boy syndrome.  You can read about it and how they reacted to it:

• 
  Feeling Thankful
• Her Son Was Born With "Bubble Boy Disease" — Here's How They Lived in
  Isolation For More Than a Year

Vaughn was supposed to go to pre-school at the age of four in the fall of 2019.  He couldn’t go because there was a very real risk of him bringing germs into the house.  He was so looking forward to it.  So, his mother, an elementary school teacher, decided to home pre-school him and created routines to give it a real pre-school feel.  Everyday, he would don the uniform (school logoed polo shirt and shorts) he would have worn to school.  They would have breakfast, pack his knapsack with his school workbooks, pencils, and markers.  They would make a lunch and snacks, put them in the lunch bag that came with the knapsack.  Vaughn would put the backpack on his back and a cap on his head.  He would kiss his mom and say, “Bye Mom, see you later.”  She would say, “Have a good day in school.”  Then he would walk around the downstairs down the hall, into the living room, through the dining room and kitchen and back to where his mom was in the family room.  He would say, “Good morning Mrs. K.”  He would sit down and take what he needed from his backpack to work on.  At the end of the school, he would again pack up his backpack, say by to his teacher, make the reverse commute and, upon seeing Armené would say, “Mom… I’m home from school.”  Then, they would have a snack, and talk about his day at school.  She took a video of it and everyone that watched it had a tear in their eye it was so cute and precious.

You can see why I attribute this idea of the fake or, better yet, pretend commute to my daughter.