Unprecedented, Except For All The Others Who Set The Precedent

In his review of Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice, Christian Toto lauds Ronstadt for doing an album of Spanish songs.

We also see (among the many highlights) Ronstadt’s rise to a stadium-filling superstar, her surprise stint performing “The Pirates of Penzance,” the creation of the “Trio” album (alongside always-engaging interview subjects Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris) and, perhaps her most surprising career turn, the creation of the Spanish-language “Canciones de mi Padre” album.

A recurring theme appears – whenever someone tells Ronstadt she can’t do something, she does it anyway and finds success. Projects like a solo career, opera and an unprecedented album of traditional Spanish music by an English speaking pop rock star proved to be the opposite of career killers.

Unprecedented!

Except for:

  • Eydie Gorme with Trio Los Panchos, Amor (1964)
  • Eydie Gorme with Trio Los Panchos, More Amor (1965)
  • Eydie Gorme with Trio Los Panchos, Navidad Means Christmas (1966)
  • Eydie Gorme with Trio Los Panchos, Canta en Español (1970)
  • Eydie Gorme with Trio Los Panchos, Cuatro Vidas (1970)
  • Vikki Carr, Que Sea El (1971)
  • Vikki Carr, En Español (1972)
  • Vikki Carr, Hoy (1975)
  • Vikki Carr, Y El Amor (1980)
  • Vikki Carr, El Retrato Del Amor (1981)
  • Vikki Carr, A Todos (1984)
  • Lani Hall, Lani (1982)
  • Lani Hall, Lani Hall (1984)
  • Lani Hall, Es Fácil Amar (1985)
  • Doris Day, Latin for Lovers (1965)

That’s almost off the top of my head.

Although perhaps Vikki Carr, born Florencia Bisenta de Casillas-Martinez Cardona but who came to musical prominence with an Anglicized name, might be a stretch as she ended up being more of a Latin singer than an English one–her albums after 1980 are mostly in Spanish.

But, still, by the time Linda Ronstadt got around to it, English-speaking pop stars singing in Spanish (or Portaguese) was almost its own genre.

Although I cannot fault him for not being as knowledgeable about mid-century American songstresses as I am, I can fault him for the modern writing where everything is the best or the first and every play in every game breaks some sort of record.

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Five Things On My Desk (VII)

Apparently, I haven’t done one of these posts in three years. I’d like you to believe, gentle reader, that my desk has been impeccably clutter-free in that interim, so I will not dispel your notion should you have it. Although, I am pleased to say, none of these items has been on the desk for three years, some have certainly been on my desk for too long.

The Thank You Card

My oldest son had his birthday at the beginning of the summer, and my beloved aunt sends him a gift card every year. Every year (well, and at Christmas, too, so it’s more than once a year, but only once for the birthday) I have him write a thank you card to her. Sometimes it’s delayed a little while so he can say what he spent the money on, but this year, he spent it quickly on a Nerf gun. But it took a couple weeks (a month’s worth) to get him to write the card. And then he gave it to me to mail, and I generally include a little card of my own with it. But as I have not yet written that note, the thank you card languishes.

The Christmas Ornament

Gentle reader, this is not a true Christmas straggler (that is, a Christmas decoration in some nook or cranny that is not boxed when the Christmas decorations come down). The school my children attend has an annual fundraiser with ornaments depicting the theme of the school year, and I buy extras to give as Christmas gifts. This one was an extra.

I don’t remember exactly to whom I gave them last year, so I’m not sure what to do with this one. Perhaps, as we’re now a two tree family, we can put one from 2018 on each.

My Great Grandmother’s Paintings

My great-grandmother executed these paintings maybe, what, fifty years ago? They were on the wall of our house in the projects–so after the divorce, apparently my sainted mother got custody of them as well.

Here at Nogglestead, we had them on the wall in the dining room until a woodburned chicken keyhanger replaced them because suddenly my beautiful wife likes chicken decorations in the kitchen and dining room. They went unboxed into the garage, on my workbenches (which have more than five things on them, I kid you not). When cleaning the garage, I brought them into the office here until I can determine a good place to hang them. They’re not big pictures, but the walls here are very full already and getting fullerer.

The Light Bars

I bought these LED light bars out of a catalog over 10 years ago before they became common enough to find in department stores. I wanted them for indirect light atop bookshelves, and they did that at our house in Old Trees and here at Nogglestead for a while. Well, they sort of did. I set them atop the bookshelves but never actually turned them on.

So a year or so back, I had to clear some space atop the main den’s bookshelves for audio courses. I brought these into my office, and they’ve sat on the far edge of my desk where I put things that I should put away somewhere other than my desk. They’ve been there except for the times when I have moved things I should pick up and put elsewhere to the floor. This last strategy does not work, as I then might put some of the things away but generally pick up the floor by putting them on my desk.

I’m not entirely sure where I would put them, which probably means I should just put them into the donation box in the garage.

The Pen I Thought Was Cool When I Was Ten

Man, when I was in elementary school, the four-color ballpoint pen was the greatest thing. You could write in one of four different colors. All the cool kids had them.

So, of course, I did not. I got my first Trapper Keeper from a trash can in the projects (and my first bike came from a dumpster), so technology this advanced was way out of my experience.

Now, some forty years later, The Heritage Foundation has sent me one along with a fundraising pitch, and I cannot think of a single thing I want to write in green.

This shall probably be the first thing to leave my desk as I give it to one of my boys who will likely find it as cool as I would have.

Now that I have mentioned these things, perhaps I will be inspired enough to remove them from my desk.

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Book Report: The Chemistry of Love by Billy Pearson (2018)

Book coverAs you might recall, gentle reader, I bought this book on my last excursion to ABC Books, where the author was signing books.

To recap a bit of it: He started writing books when he was 80, and he’s got nine books out and a couple more coming out. If you’re wondering how he can do it, I’m guessing he does it by dictating using a speech-to-text program and then does not edit the work very carefully. I mean, you have missing quotation marks, some wrong words which sound like other words that fit, and that sort of thing. It’s not as bad as Dark Star, but you do have to pay attention when you read.

The story revolves around a couple of high school students who become good friends in college and get an incredible opportunity to run a pharmaceutical? Bio-chemical? plant while at the university. The main character gets free rein and builds a multi-million dollar subsidiary of the small company that gave her a shot. Along the way, the young ladies learn about sex, start families, and whatnot. Then the book ends with them in middle age when one of the women’s husband is discovered to have been unfaithful and has a gambling problem. This ending doesn’t really add much.

At any rate, it’s best to think of your grandfather telling you a bedtime story when reading the book. It’s pretty simply done, with years passing between paragraphs and some passages where it’s not especially clear which character is doing what. But, still, not Dark Star.

I suspect the style will work better in his other books. Which I’ll get to by and by.

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Songs of Fatherhood

As you might have noticed, gentle reader, if you’ve been around a while, I don’t often speak of my father on this blog other than to mention that I remember the exact television movie in 1981 that I was watching (Twirl) when he told me my parents were separating. My parents did indeed divorce, and my custodial parent and we boys moved shortly thereafter to Missouri from Wisconsin. So my contact with my father during my teen years was intermittent phone calls and a couple weeks in the summer. I did get to live with him while I was going to college, but I disappointed him in many of his measures, including moving back to Missouri after college. He didn’t come to my college graduation which was in Milwaukee, which hurt. Later that summer, they discovered he had lung cancer, and he passed away in 1995 when he was 47, and I was 23. To make a short story long.

I associate two songs from the period with my father although they weren’t necessarily among our shared musical interests (we both liked Billy Joel and the Eagles).

The first is Rod Stewart’s “Forever Young”. Back in those days, children, MTV and VH1 played music videos, and young people watched them.

When this one came on, my father said something to the effect of that’s how he felt about us. I couldn’t understand it then, but now I’ve got children entering the end of their childhoods, and they’ll suddenly be out on their own, and I have to wonder how I’ll have served them as a father. A mixed bag, I suppose. I mean, I’m here, I pay attention, and I go to their ball games and whatnot, but sometimes I get wrapped up in my own pursuits and don’t play with them like I used to. Well, I shoot hoops with them from time to time, and I’ve been known to teach them to split wood. But I cannot know now how successful my parenting will have been. And I probably never will, with certainty, know.

But to me, the boys and then men will always be continuous with the toddlers whose faces brightened palpably when they saw their daddy.

I expect my father had similar feelings with some additional complexity in his absence from my younger years. Or maybe not.

The second song is Mike + The Mechanics “In The Living Years” which came out a year after the Rod Stewart song, and it is from the perspective of the son.

Even at that young age, I knew that some day I would not have my father, so every time I heard the song, I made a point of telling my father that he was a good guy. Actually, I did this to the point that it bothered him, as though I was being arch, although I was sincere. And a couple years later, he was actually gone.

You know, I told him what I needed to tell him from my perspective then. However, it was the perspective of a late adolescent, a college student. I wish I’d been able to share things from an adult, a man’s perspective, with him. But, you know, the date of departure is out of our hands.

Now, of course, as a father, I wonder whether my children will have a better impression of me when they’re adults and perhaps fathers of their own. I only hope I’m here to see it. Unlike my own father.

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A First Pass Answer Is Never

When Will Men in Hats Come Back?:

Whatever happened to the hat? Whither the fedora? Where have they stashed the Stetsons? Who has banished the boater and trashed the tweed cap? Why is a “Deerstalker” considered a Vietnam movie and a “Panama” no more than a canal?

Who can resist the gritty allure of the gumshoe Bogart tugging at the brim of his hat, or John Wayne glowering from beneath a splendid Stetson? Sherlock Holmes’ brain cannot work without the protection of his deerstalker nor can Gandalf be a whizz without his wizard’s hat. Could there be a Davy Crockett without his coonskin, a Cyrano without his chapeau, a Don Quixote without his saucepan helmet or an Indiana Jones without his hat? Indeed, is a hero a hero at all without a hat?

I don’t wear a hat because it’s fashionable to do so. I wear a hat because I want to.

I’d like to think it tracks with the conclusion of the piece:

When will men in hats come back? When men come back. When we push back from our desks and laptops, turn off the television and go back outdoors where we belong we will start to need hats again. When I am heaving bricks in the heat of El Salvador on a mission trip I need a hat. When I am trekking with kids to the top of Mayan ruins I need my broad brimmed hat to shield me from the sun. When I am hunting and fishing and working on the farm I want my head protected. When I am out on the street meeting the people I am supposed to care for I will want a hat, and should I ever go into battle I will insist on a very large hat…

….so the enemy has something to aim for.

Although I’m sure any overlap between me and real men is merely a trick of the light.

(Link via Instapundit, not his more lidded co-blogger Ed Driscoll.)

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Book Report: Herschend Family Values As told by D.R. Jacobsen (2017)

Book coverThis book marks a momentous event: I have read all of the books that I bought at Calvin’s Books in May. I jokingly said I would probably not read those five books that day. And then I set as a personal goal to do just that. And now I have.

This book looks to be almost an employee or management handbook for Herschend Enterprises, which started with Silver Dollar City west of Branson and now includes a number of theme parks around the country (and the Harlem Globetrotters). The book talks about working and acting with a servant’s heart (although it does not use those terms). It has a couple of corporatey bits in the intro and the conclusion, but most of the book is short chapters of anecdotes where employees or co-workers at Herschend properties went the extra mile to help sick or down-on-their luck customers or co-workers.

I liked reading the book, and I’m thinking about recommending it to my beautiful wife. She likes reading good leadership books, but perhaps this one isn’t so much in that particular vein.

You know, one might be cynical and think this book is just lip service to an ideal and a way to get the company employees to behave this way for better customer service, but sometimes, I’m not cynical, and I think the book is sincere. Even if it’s not, at least the corporate masters recognize an ideal outside of the short-term materialism of the corporation. But I think it’s pretty sincere.

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Short Memories

As you might expect, gentle reader, I review the Facebook Memories section every day to see what I was thinking or posting about in the past on this day. Kind of like when I mope through the archives here when following a link from the stat tracker to a page someone visited from 2004.

Yesterday, I got this one:

Of course, I had a game of Civ IV running in the background.

I never really got into Civ V; I think I rebelled at having to sign into Steam to play it. So I kept installing Civ IV on new PCs, up until my Windows 7 box where I had to do a special hack to turn off a graphics service to play it. Which lasted until the video card on the old PC began to choke out, probably under the weight of Civ IV running all the time.

Instead of trying to re-create the hack on a Windows 10 machine, I went ahead and installed Steam and bought Civ IV through Steam, and I still play it far too often today.

I know, I could have installed Civ V or even Civ VI since clearly I’ve gotten over having to connect to Steam each time I play Civ IV, but I tend to look at it as comfort food. Something I can play without much thought. I don’t have a lot of time to dedicate to learning new games these days, and I don’t even buy games with the thought that I would play them (which I did for much of my 30s and early 40s–buy a game, install it, watch the intro and maybe play the training level, and then I’d decide that I’d be better off reading a book or tending to my household during that time.

So fourteen years after its release, and nine years after I predicted I would move on from it, I’m still playing Civ IV.

I’m not sure if it counts as a thread weaving through my life connecting me to my pre-child past or a deep, deep rut I’m stuck in.

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Book Report: Missouri: Images of Nature by Charles Gurche (1990)

Book coverThis is the second monograph or collection of photography I’ve reviewed this football season, and strangely enough, neither of them really during a football game. As it happens, one of our floor lamps died this year, and I moved the one I used when watching football to the more important location by the reading chairs. So I ended up with a couple monographs out on the sofa-side table, but not enough light to really look at them. So I reviewed this book whilst in my reading chair.

It’s a collection of photos of various places in Missouri taken over the course of a year or so by a professional landscape photographer from the west coast. He groups the photos in chapters based on a photography conceit such as Color, Form, Moment, Place, Microcosm, and Light.

The photos are landscapes, but some of them are very narrow in focus (with a whole chapter on Microcosm). I don’t like the photographs of a single leaf on a lichen-covered rock nor collections of lily pads on a pond as they’re just exercises of technique in service of showing us a technique or a texture, not in showing us a scene. Or maybe I’m just flogging my new dichotomy. Sometimes, though, the different textures work together in a single scene that is a scene, though, so the photographer has some definite talent.

Still, a pleasant enough browse. It contains images of Elephant Rocks and Johnson’s Shut Ins on the eastern side of the state. When I was growing up back there, I remember the other kids in school talking about going to those places on the weekend like it was nothing. Do you know where we went on the weekends when I was growing up? No where. Well, no where like that.

So I’ve gone through two of these books already, and I have yet to watch a complete football game. I shall have to visit the book sale on half price day to resupply my monographs and photography collections in early October for sure.

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Book Report: Catherine Murphy: New Paintings and Drawings (1989)

Book coverWell, it’s football season again, so I will finally get a chance to review some of the artists’ monographs that I got last May (and I can go nuts since the next Friends of the Springfield-Greene County Library Book Sale comes in October).

This book is a collection of line drawings and paintings as the title says. The artist’s subject matter are still lifes of a sort–she has three self portraits and another painting with human figures in them, but there are also, what, landscapes that look like a picture taken out of a house window or images of rooms, wallpapers, and window interiors without anyone in them.

The technical skill is great–some of them are nearly photographic in quality. Definitely interesting things to look at and a great combination of textures and techniques.

The afternoon that I began to browse this book I went to an open house at a gallery here in town that featured an artist who practices a more modern approach to art. Some of it was figurative, but it was all pretty flat. Some of it was just textures and strokes on the canvas. But in any case, it was clear that you were looking ata painting. In this book’s images, you’re looking at something in a picture or a drawing. Have I made this dichotomy between modern and classical art before? It seems like you can apply it to literature, too.

At any rate, a pleasant way to spend an hour or two, and I wouldn’t mind going to see some of her work. According to Wikipedia, you can find it in many collections, although none in particularly close locations. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and the Crystal Bridges Museum of Art will pick something up before I make my way down there.

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Well, Not Exactly

Pop culture theology is always suspect. I don’t go to heavy metal songs for a better understanding of the Bible; I don’t go to television series or movies; and I shouldn’t go to commentary on television series or movies.

Like this one: AMC’s ‘Preacher’ Shows Jesus Robbing a Bank, Working with Hitler.

My quibble:

According to the Bible, Jesus Christ is the Son of God.

That puts the truthiness of the statement on the veracity of the written work.

That’s like saying that the inalienable rights recognized from our founding documents come from our founding documents. And if they can be amended or proven untrue, the inalienable rights can be alienated.

Sloppy writing? Sloppy thinking? Or is the author only repeating the assertions he read in a book?

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High Mortality Rate For Springfield Pedestrians

This sign would seem to infer Springfield motorists are killing a lot of pedestrians:

I mean, what is the other option? I guess that the pedestrian had to yield to oncoming traffic.

This is positioned where it would be visible to those turning left across a cross walk, so perhaps that is the intent: to remind drivers to yield for pedestrians who have the walk signal.

However, distracting signage is not the way I would go.

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Robert Davies, Daryl Simon Have An Alibi

Gold bars with faked logo slipped into global markets, JPMorgan vaults: report:

Gold bars stamped with fake logos of major refineries have been circulated into the global market and landed in the vaults of JPMorgan Chase & Co. — part of a plot to launder smuggled or illegal specimens of the precious metal, according to a report.

Bars worth at least $50 million stamped with the logos of Swiss refineries that did not produce them have been identified by all four of the country’s top gold refiners in the last three years, Reuters reported.

As you know, gentle reader, my novel John Donnelly’s Gold includes the manufacture of a fake gold bar.

What, you didn’t know that? Gentle reader, you should buy the book that is rated at least 4 stars on various forums.

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It Makes Sense For A Meme; For Real Life, Yeah, No

So my cousins have posted this meme on Facebook:

Well, I suppose that looks good at the cursory glance you give to a Facebook posting. But in the real world, what the heck are you going to put into a bottle that loses structural integrity in a matter of weeks?

Gentle reader, I’m not talking about the situation at Nogglestead, where every couple of years we take bottles out of the back of the cabinets and find salad dressing whose best by date is in Roman numerals.

If you think about the logistics in the food industry (which meme sharers generally are not), start the counter at the manufacture date of the hemp bottle. It’s coming off of an artisanal assembly line in Vermont or Oregon, and it’s boxed up, stored, and shipped out in a first-in first-out fashion to a processing plant where they make organic hand-crafted kimchi. How many days is this? Unless they’re overnighting the bottles, call it a week.

At the kimchi factory, it sits in a warehouse, gets filled with rotten vegetables, and gets warehoused again. Say the whole process at the food plant takes three days (but it’s probably more).

Then it gets shipped out to a grocery warehouse, where it sits on a pallet of kimchi until it gets packed for delivery on a truck to be sent to a grocery store. Pretend that the foodies and television personalities are pushing kimchi this year, and this process only takes a week.

The load gets delivered to the grocery and gets stocked (1 day). Pretend that the stocker did a good job rotating the kimchi and put it to the back of the shelf. And pretend that kimchi is in this week’s newspaper ad and that people who would buy kimchi actually read the newspaper, so customers buy all the kimchi in front of it and it’s out of the store in, what, four days?

So you get that hemp bottle full of stinking Korean food into your cabinet, and you have to eat it in the next week or it’s going to be a stinking mess on your shelf.

So perhaps a bottle made out of hemp that breaks down in a month is not the Earth-saving magic you’re looking for.

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Book Report: The Ninja and Their Secret Fighting Art by Stephen K. Hayes (1974)

Book coverI bought this book at ABC Books in July, so it was at the top of the stack. I’ve read a couple other martial arts books in the last year (The Martial Artist’s Way, The Zen Way to Martial Arts, Taekwondo Kyorugi, and so on).

The book starts with a bit of history of the ninja in Japan and then tells how the author went to Japan to study with Masaaki Hatsumi, the last ninja grand master (still alive at 87 today). The book then talks about some fighting techniques, describes some weapons of the ninja, and the has a couple of chapters on reconnaissance, espionage, and the spiritual elements of budo. It’s not a long book–150 pages or so–and it has a pseudo-libary binding but no library marks, which makes me think it might be a book aimed at younger audiences.

It’s not so much a how-to book on strikes and whatnot as a summary course. Which is unfortunate. I’m really looking for dirty tricks to pull on the other students at the martial arts school where I train and not so much high-level musing on how to manipulate people using the earth/water/fire/air/void breakdown of the universe.

Full disclosure: I studied at a bujinkan dojo briefly in the middle 1990s, so I would have been indirectly a student of Hatsumi Sensei myself. But not this book’s author.

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Spoiler Alert: Nah, Brah

When some unrelated research leads you to an article about a long-awaited event.

Which, five years on, still hasn’t happened. The project (or a project) remains in development. Which means I can recycle this post in five years.

Although, who knows? Stranger things have happened. They did finally make a Parker movie (well, two, if you count Payback). But not a series of films.

One wonders if these older properties have enough of a movie-going fan base to make them worthwhile.

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Book Report: A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney (2018)

Book coverI bought this book at LibraryCon this year and picked it up first from amongst the gleanings.

I remember noticing that this book, unlike the others at the convention, was hardback with a dust jacket. Most self-published authors go with paperback. When I cracked it open, I discovered that it was actually published by an imprint of Macmillan Publishing. The back flap talking about the author said she was into equality and inclusion in publishing and that she created a #Hashtag, and I thought uh oh. I feared it might be a modern science fiction or fantasy with a message. Fortunately, it is not.

It is a good story. Basically, yes, it’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer in Wonderland. A young woman, grief stricken at the death of her father, is attacked by a fantastic creature and is saved by a man from Wonderland. Not the Executioner’s man from Wonderland; an exiled resident of a fantastic world who bears a dark blade. He teaches her to be a Dreamwalker, a person from our world who goes to Wonderland to kill Nightmares, which are manifestations of human fears that are more frequently plaguing Wonderland. Alice has allies in Wonderland–other Dreamwalkers who guard other places where the two worlds intersect–but they discover a growing danger from a mysterious Black Knight who wants to resurrect the Black Queen to rule Wonderland.

The only quibble I have with the book is that the climactic battle at the end comes up and is dispatched very quickly–which, as you know, gentle reader, is a common complaint I make. The book too clearly leads into the next in the series, which means the end doesn’t really resolve that much in the story arc.

But that’s a minor thing. The story moves along well, and the author not only relies on the Alice in Wonderland story for a jumping-off point, but she also alludes heavily to “The Jabberwocky” as well. And she titles her chapters in addition to giving them numbers–a practice of which I approve.

But I’ll pick up the next in the series when it comes out next month. And I will pick up a copy of both books for my godson for Christmas since he likes fantasy novels. Or so I hope–because every year, he still gets them from me.

If only the author would do a book signing at ABC Books so I could get the books signed.

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