Harry's Ruminations

Been a pretty stressful time lately--co-teaching a class at church, layoffs at work, and kids bored OUT OF THEIR MINDS because of the Snowpocalypse. My iPod's been my one refuge. Listening to it today, I've learned something about my (new) self--I hate lots of music. Basically, I hate atonic noise, overwrought compositions, and LOUD stuff. That's ALOT of what people listen to--and alot of what's on my ipod. About the only thing that gives me peace these days is Miles Davis's Kind of Blue There's a peace there--amid the din of this insane, lost world--that I just crave. It's a basement jazz bar, a soothing glass of bourbon, warm conversation, and a pleasant feeling of "being"--being yourself. There's no anger here, just smooth jazz: "Everyone's got issues, man. Just sit down and relax."

So, most of Kentucky is shut down because of this snow/ice mess we have currently, and my august company has decided to go forward with their yearly kickoff meeting, despite 50% absentee rate at the moment.

Stopping means bringing a moving object or system to a halt. Things naturally get slower as they get colder, down to absolute zero, when all motion (even molecular vibration) ceases. I was talking to Whitney last night before bed about it...it just feels like everything's stopping--the economy, politics, people's attitudes. Just grinding to a halt. Yay, we have a new president. Yay, he signals an end to the basic racial divide in American history. So...what now? That seems to be the gut reaction--flowery rhetoric fails when cold reality frosts its dewy petals. I'm sure the last Byzantine emperor made many great speeches before the Turks battered down the walls with a cannon. * * * Americans have seen many dark winters: The troops at Valley Forge, the siege of Petersburg, and the Depression and its interminable bread lines and hopelessness. This looks to be another slog; I just hope a spoiled and cosseted generation can live up to the example our forebears set.

Every time I hear Norah Jones, I'm hear Joey snoring softly in the back on my MINI, dusk falling around us as we drive back from Somernites Cruise on US 127 from Danville. The sun's gone down on a perfect day, and Whitney's looking at me every so often with so much love in her eyes, I just want to cry. She doesn't know I see her looking. And that's okay. * * * It's that time of the winter when you never know if you'll know warmth again. That memory keeps me warm, as it has for many years since.

From Chuck: Linky Productivity for a creative person or thought worker is consistency, discipline, and knowing yourself. I don't do well at night, so I try to work before noon, leaving time for all the corporate crap in the afternoons. Sadly, everything has a way of blowing up at precisely 4:45 pm. Don't know why.

You know, I think I finally figured out where my temper comes from: My Mom's side of the family. I sat here 2 minutes ago and had a full-blown Aunt Norie incredulous rant. At one point, I took a step back and heard myself speaking and it was like, "That sounds an awful lot like Norie at full tilt." Yep. Dad's family is placid. Mom's is a tad more assertive.