1. I'm not quite ready to cogently sum up Sherlock Holmes' philosophy of life and human nature, but in each story I've listened to so far, Holmes takes Watson into his confidence and informs him -- possibly teaches him -- how his practice of detailed observation and his philosophy of what matters most in life interlock. As I worked to burn calories in the Fitness Center today, any one who cared to glance my way would have seen a smile dominate my face and heard me chuckle a bit as Holmes tutored Watson toward the beginning of the story, "A Case of Identity". Normally, Holmes is not ruffled by the cases he works on, but in this story the perpetrator he unmasks angers him, and Holmes got riled up, a memorable challenge to the idea that he is a person so cerebral that he lives detached from any feelings.
In this story, Holmes feels disgust and in his outrage reveals his deep sense of right and wrong, of what's just and unjust. You'll have to read the story to discover what so offends and infuriates him.
2. Today, I received an email of appreciation from a former University of Oregon student. She was in a Shakespeare class of mine. Along with kind words directed my way, she also mentioned my longtime U of O Shakespeare mentor and advisor, Prof. Gloria Johnson.
I recognize emailer's name, but I'll have to confirm with her that the memories that returned to me when I read her name today are accurate ones. I am suspicious of my memories, especially ones that are about forty years old.
It's hard to express how her email heartened and uplifted me. I admit that I have moments of unsettling doubt about my work as an instructor over the 30+ years I did my best to be a good teacher.
Then, on occasions like today, a past student will extend appreciative words to me or maybe tell me about a meaningful moment in class s/he remembers, and, to paraphrase Shakespeare's Sonnet 30, much confidence is restored and self-doubt ends.
3. While I went through my morning routine of puzzle solving and blog writing this morning, I went to the KEPW-FM archives, found Jeff's March 13th Deadish show, and listened to two blissful hours of Pink Floyd, Zero, the Grateful Dead, and to one of my favorite albums ever, Left of Center by Eugene's Nine Days Wonder. Jeff played Left of Center in anticipation of Nine Days Wonder reuniting in October for a show in Portland and another in Eugene to commemorate 40 years since they first performed.
In the fall of 1989, while living about twenty-five miles from Eugene out in the country, a ways past Marcola, I started frequenting Nine Days Wonder shows and would also hear other jam bands like Little Women, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, Zero, and others. Sometimes Nine Days shared a show with one of these bands, but not always. I was young, full of vitality, in the midst of a ten year sabbatical from alcohol (I never ingested other drugs), much less self-conscious than I am now, and thrilled at every opportunity to surrender my body and soul to these bands' music, dance by myself like a mad man, and have the best nights of my life, embodying the great Mary Hopkins song, really believing they would never end.
The WOW Hall advertised these shows to begin at 9:30 and back in 1989 through about 1996, this wasn't really past my bedtime. The shows rarely started on time and there didn't seem to be any kind of curfew as to when they had to end and I was a die hard, sweating and dancing until the last encore drew to a close. I then drove home on Marcola Road to Mowhawk River Road in the wee hours of the morning, hitting the sack anywhere between 2 and 4 in the morning, depending on how many bands played and how willing and how long they were willing and able to keep their jams going well past midnight.
Yeah -- after midnight -- we let it all hang out -- I didn't chug a lug, but I loved to shout -- I was open to find out what it was all about.
Too bad I didn't have a tambourine.
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