One thing that I like about coming home from a trip of more than a week is the amount of “fun” mail that has piled up in the mailbox. For me fun mail consists of (aside from unexpected cash or checks) magazines and catalogs. I’m a typical liberal in that I subscribe to both the New Yorker and the Atlantic Monthly. The New Yorker is sort of a waste for me since all I usually read are the music listings and reviews and then look at the cartoons – my last stop is trying to guess which of the three finalist entries will win the cartoon caption contest in the next month’s issue.
Of particular interest to me in the September issue of the Atlantic is an article on the lack of morality in the field of gastronomy. I’d never really given it much thought, but it makes sense to me. Given that being a gourmet is perhaps the most selfish of the aesthetic pursuits, it would stand that there would be no small amount of blind eye turning involved in appreciating fois gras, live-boiled lobster and any mass-produced meat products. It’s an excellent article by B.R. Meyers, I recommend it to you most highly, even though he takes author Michael Pollan to task for some oversights in his excellent book (which I loved) The Omnivore’s Dilemma.
Today was a stressful day, as all first days of the season tend to be. There was a lot of music on the stand for this first parks concert, and the first order of business (after the long series of announcements of appointments, resignations, and organizational minutiae) was Wagner’s Overture to The Flying Dutchman. It’s a lot of notes for 9:40 in the morning, and the fingers were running slow, I must say. That having been said, the orchestra sounds quite good for the first service of the season, and it was good to hear our wonderful new bass/utility trombonist Charlie Renault laying down the glue between the trombones and the tuba.
To clear out some of the stress, I rode my bike downtown to meet Heather after her track training session at Duniway track (near the Barbur Blvd. YMCA). It was a nice ride, and since I got down there quicker than I expected, I took a spin around the Esplanade, both east and west sides. It’s sort of a Mr. Hyde and Mr. Hyde path: the east side is stinky, since all of the sewage/storm overflow drains empty on that side, and the noise from I-5 (which is about 10 feet from the east edge of the path) is quite deafening. On the west side it’s quiet and less odoriferous, but there are tons of people clogging the entire path, with dogs pulling every which way and unsupervised children doing kamikaze raids right into your path. Using the bell on the handlebars is akin to trying to change the course of a tornado with a drinking straw. Anyway, 12 miles later, I felt much better and we had a nice dinner and dessert of m&m’s to round out the day. Then we came home and I watched the dvd of the last installment of “Power of Art” on Picasso’s Guernica. Amazing – if you haven’t seen this series (it’s been broadcast on PBS the last couple months) then go rent it on Netflix or at your better video store. It’s a prime example of what art education can be if handled with imagination and good production values.