1. On his broadcast today, Billy Collins put on his cool, beatnik-y shades, playing the role of Professor Bebop, continued his praise of what he considers the finest jazz album ever (just edging out Miles Davis' Kind of Blue), The Quintet: Jazz at Massey Hall. By the end of the broadcast, he played us a cut featuring Charlie Parker playing at the speed of bebop. Sandwiched in between his mini-lectures on bebop, Billy Collins read two onion poems, "Valentine" by Carole Ann Duffy and "Onions" by William Matthews and concluded with a couple of his own poems, "Drawing Class" and "Bereft".
2. I popped into Yoke's and bought an armload of snack food and replenished our liquor supply at the liquor store in preparation for a cocktail party on our back deck, an informal farewell to Debbie. Christy, Everett, Carol, Paul, and neighbor Jane lounged with Debbie and me and we enjoyed a few drinks and munched on cheese, crackers, salami, smoked sausage, cherry tomatoes with Mozzarella and Parmesan cheese, chips and salsa, pickled asparagus and green tomatoes, and black olives. Jane had to have her beloved very old giant of a German shepherd euthanized yesterday and we talked about Griz. Dr. Cook made a house call to ease Griz out of this world and release him from his suffering and we talked about how much we appreciate Dr. Cook's sensitivity and his love for the animals he works with. Many other topics swirled around the deck. It was a splendid party full of good cheer, good stories, sadness, laughter, and, above all, good will. Cool mountain air pushed out the heat of the day, making it very pleasant to be outside.
3. Chronology, thanks to the the Ouzo I was sipping out of a tiny jar, is a little fuzzy for me, but at some point I initiated a discussion with Debbie about Cat Stevens, wondering what she thought of his music and songwriting. When I got a little chilly and came into the house, I had a what the heck moment: I decided to watch Harold and Maude again. Debbie joined me. Tonight, I was especially keen on enjoying the way Cat Stevens' songs enter the movie. The timing of when they come in is impeccable. The lyrics fit perfectly with both the moments of the movie they accompany and the overall arc of the movie. The more I watch Harold and Maude, the more I marvel at its perfect structure, at how superbly it's put together. Ha! I've watched Harold and Maude three times in the last week and, in addition to having a renewed love for its construction, I am also admiring more and more the work of Vivian Pickles. She plays Harold's mother and beautifully establishes a delicate balance in her relationship with Harold: she is, depending on the moment, indifferent, outraged, and amused by Harold's suicide tableaux and, at times, especially when Harold's three different dates come to the house, seems to be in on Harold's antics, flirting with being his co-conspirator. (At least that's how I have come to see it...I know I might be all wet!)
Here's a limerick by Stu:
You're embarrassed if folks see you stumble.
When you're cut off in traffic you grumble.
But there's only one word,
For a game that's absurd.
And for golf, that word would be humble.
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