Could Beethoven Have Forseen This....

    Doesn't it seem fitting that Ode To Joy has become a global anthem in this time of virus?
    Any rendition heals, but there is something "responsive"  and in the moment in the Rotterdam Philharmonic styling, at home, but together, virtually.

        Have we not laughed, or been brought to glassy eyes or felt a wholeness in the links, videos, zoom conversations or meetings as we all face the virus in isolation, or singularly, but like the orchestra, together?

     Isolation perhaps, socially distanced, life interrupted, but in community.
     My heart swells when we fragile and even frightened humans step onto balconies, porches, decks, or open our windows to yell, sing, ring bells, beat pans, applaud and cheer our medical providers. We cannot see the enemy, but we can defy its terror and rouse the lion in our human spirit and soothe our souls.

      We have imposed barriers in our one time convenient lives, we have placed obstacles to the common rhythms and familiar patterns. Now we wonder if perhaps we have taken so much for granted. 
      I was lamenting how I miss the sound of Jim Nantz and the tumult of an emphatic basketball arena. I feel cheated that I can't see the jibes and joy of Greg Gumble, Clark Kellogg, Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith. And that started me on a  trail of the sounds we are missing.
      The chatter at Lily's coffee deck, my circle of chatterers and debaters, the joy of children at play drifting up the ridge from the grammar school playground, the clang, beeps and buzz of the big box and grocery store, live music wafting in from clubs, the hostess greeting or the chime of wine glasses toasting, the conversations in parking lots, the vibe of a tasting room, the sound of traffic even, and the applause of a concert crowd.

     I hope we are making more calls. It's a way to care, to check up, and just enjoy someone's company, even if distant. My friend Frank and I were sharing how we've been looking for old basketball games or sports events on the cable. He's reading a Sports Illustrated anthology of great moments. 

     In a large, large way, the field of competition, all sports, are a major element in the sound score of lives. How many Saturday or Sunday afternoons did that mellow "Whoa, Nellie..." of Keith Jackson or Dick Enberg's "Oh My..." serve as a gentle assurance that all was well with the world. 

     So, in the interim, we have replays, but there is something "normalizing" in hearing Al Michaels, or Bob Costas, and others. Normalizing like a friend complaining about the freeway traffic, or the sound of airplanes, or even the car with loud speakers in the next lane. 

     Normal. Normal life has more sounds, more sub conscious cues that we are well.

     As I was mulling this, Scott Simon of NPR must have been having smiliar withdrawal. On his March 28 Weekend edition, he took it on with the inimitable Hank Azaria.

      Link here to hear 4 minutes of smiles.

  

   Normal is on the other side of the virus and our social distanced restrictions. Getting there, getting through this is so much easier than what our parents or grand parents faced in the Spanish Influenza. Our cyber, wireless, social media world, helps us to remain in community. If each send, or text, or photo, or share could emit a sound lifted to the spheres, it would probably sound like an Ode to Joy.

    Stay well. See you down the trail.

COULDN'T BELIEVE OUR EYES, TRANSCENDENCE, PRECIOUS WATER AND WHAT ARE THEY?

A TRANSCENDENT MOMENT

     Something extraordinary happened in an awful moment on Easter Sunday.

     Louisville player Kevin Ware who had jumped to block a shot, came down horribly wrong, splintering his leg in a compound fracture that is as bad as any sports injury most of us have ever seen.

     Players collapsed on the floor, nearby fans were sickened and the Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis was silenced, stunned and of a single mind, worried about the young athlete writhing in pain.

     His coach, Rick Pitino, is quoted as saying he fought nausea, others have said so as well.

     Clark Kellogg, who is great guy and a caring compassionate man was barely able to compose himself as he performed his CBS Sports broadcast role.  His partner Jim Nantz, another class act, also battled back tears, as did the fiercely competitive Coach K, Mike Krzyzewski.  

      For almost ten minutes cultural icons like Pitino, Krzyzewski, Kellogg and Nantz, wiped tears and worked on. The broadcasters evinced great concern for Ware and for his team mates who were in shock.  Even as Pitino and Coach K looked shaken, ashen and blinked tears, they were concerned for their charges and their well being.  We look at Division 1 athletes as men, as competitive stallions, but they are young men, some just out of high school.

      You could see people pray, the broadcasters said they were praying, later even the colorful Charles Barkley said he too was praying for Ware.

      In a moment, a highly charged and superb athletic ritual is dashed.  A young man lay seriously injured, on a playing floor, not a battle field.  The uniform he wore was that of a basketball player, not a soldier, cop or firefighter.  A terrible and ugly reality crashed into a cultural celebration.

Fans, players, coaches, commentators, in this framed world of hyper play, responded to their shock and dismay with an almost automatic response of care, concern and prayer.

      Young Kevin Ware, his bone protruding from his skin, who dreams of playing professional ball, in excruciating pain, uncertain of his future, continued to tell his panic stricken team mates, "Don't worry about me.  Just win the game.  Win the game."

      The thousands in the stadium and the millions of us watching television, have never seen anything like that before.  In the midst of a game, a horrible event prompts an almost universal concern and thousands or millions of prayers.  Something extraordinary, in an awful moment, on an Easter Sunday.

      

CLAY PLAY
wherein a new ceramic project from Lana provides an
interesting photo opportunity.

SAN SIMEON CREEK

    Our rainy season has been almost 50% deficient this year.

We are experiencing a couple of days of light rain and hoping the system slows to deliver more.  

    The photos were shot last week on San Simeon Creek, one of the two primary water sources for municipal wells. In a good year, the creek runs with a swifter current and the gravel bars are not visible, until late in the summer.  

     Talk of lifting a building moratorium to permit a "few" new construction permits a year seems ill advised in a drought year and at a time when some climatologists say we are in a drought cycle.  I understand the frustration of property owners who have been waiting years to build, but still, water is a precious resource and this year it is even more precious.

    See you down the trail.