Today is a Buffalo double, which means that I have about 6 hours to kill between the end of the morning rehearsal and the start of the evening concert. I'm at a Coffee Culture on Elmwood Ave with a big stack of books, a laptop, and a lunchbox that used to be full of pizza. It takes 1 hour and 19 minutes to drive from our apartment to Kleinhans, a drive that I am not keen to do four times in one day. (I'll have to on Saturday...church staff party demands I come home between.)
This Coffee Culture isn't a bad place to spend the afternoon, though. I did my taxes here in March, I've read lots of books, studied scores for upcoming concerts, and planned needlessly elaborate games and projects for James and Julie. I've just spent the last hour and a half translating.
I try to keep four translation projects open at once, which has been the problem with learning Hebrew. Keeping a running fifth project open with Calvus is possible during some parts of the year, but most of the time I don't have enough hours in the day to get to everything. Currently in my backpack are the Vulgate Bible, a volume of Sedulius, a collection of plays by Euripides, and the last half of the Iliad.
I've been reading through all of the major prophets in the Vulgate, which is St. Jerome's translation of the Bible into Latin. (And in my opinion, one of the most beautiful, if not the most accurate, translations ever made.) Here's what I did today, 10 verses about return from exile and judgment using pastoral language.
Ezekiel XXXIV:11-20
The Lord God says this: Behold I will seek my sheep again and will visit them. Just as a shepherd visits his flock in the day when he will be in the midst of his scattered sheep, thus I will visit my sheep and will free them from all places where they were scattered in the day of cloud and darkness. And I will lead them out from the peoples and gather them from the lands and will bring them into their land and will pasture them in the mountains of Israel, in the rivers and in all the seats of the land. In the most fertile pastures I will pasture them and on the high mountains of Israel their pastures shall be. There they will rest in green grass and in rich pastures they will be pastured upon the mountains of Israel. I will pasture my sheep and I will make them to lie down, says the Lord God. What was lost I will seek back and what was cast away I will lead back and what had been broken I will bind up and what was weak I will strengthen and what was fat and strong I will keep and will pasture them in judgment. But you, O my flocks, the Lord God says this: Behold I judge between flock and clock, of rams and he-goats. Was it not enough to you to feed on the good pasture, and even the rest of your pastures you trampled with your feet and when you drank the purest water you troubled the rest with your feet. And my sheep on that which had been trampled by your feet were fed, and what your feet had troubled they drank. Therefore the Lord God says this: Behold I myself will judge between the fat and the lean of the flock.
Calvus gave me an SBL edition of Sedulius for my birthday (I think) last year, and I got around to starting it a few months ago. It's a dense five-volume hexameter poem deliberately copying Virgil that adapts the gospel story and sets it in the "jewelled" style. I'm glad I was already familiar with the story...I had to look up lots of words, and unravel lots of grammar from the parallel translation. I knew I was getting close to the end, but I didn't realize that I was going to finish the book today! Once I found myself at the end of the poem I signed and dated the bottom, which I try to do with any major translations I make. The section today picks up right as the ascension is about to take place.
Sedulii Paschale Carmen V.416-fin
Then teaching the following he said Peace, have you all. Take my peace, carry quiet (calm) peace, peace spread you through the peoples by my holy commands and cleanse the world from ills, to call nations from the ends of the earth as wide as the world is stretched, I command in my biddings to wash all in the fount. When this was said the Lord brought his kind address to an end, and soon he sought the fields of Bethany, and in the presence of the blessed men which merited so great a triumph to look upon, carried off into the skies he departed into the high regions/shores. (oras) And he himself sits at the right of the father and governs all by his authority which holding all things whether high or low after he entered Tartarus from heaven, he entered heaven after Tartarus. But they with joyful faces discerning the lord to go over the high clouds and to tread the shimmering expanses with his own feet worshiped him reverently and repeated with eager heart his starry path, which they would teach all, for they were faithful witnesses by the rule of the divine power, which seeing much wrote down a few of the innumerable good deeds. For if they had wished to hand down in holy pages all things done by their redeemer, neither would the whole world suffice to contain (gird) so many thick books.
I've been taking a break from my regular schedule of New Testament readings to work on Euripides' Bacchae, and I have just a few hundred verses left. It's hard, slow going. I know I'm not picking up on a lot of the subtle dynamics within the text, but I think I've been making an okay job of it with the help of a parallel translation. I picked up today directly after the verse where the death of Pentheus is announced.
Bacchae 1031
Chorus: King Bromius [thus] are you revealed a great god!
2nd Messenger: How do you say this? What is this you speak? O women, do you rejoice on my words of the events falling ill to my master? (no idea about this verse, actually)
Chorus: We shout hurrah in barbarian language, it pleases us as foreigners, for no longer are we frightened by the terror of prison.
2nd Messenger: And do you think Thebes to be without men, O women, with our king now being dead? This will bring you unto grief.
Chorus: It is Dionysus the child of Zeus, not the Thebans holding my rule.
2nd Messenger: It is pardonable to you, but on others' ills it is not good to rejoice, O women.
Chorus: Tell me, speak, by what fate did he die, the unjust and injustice-contriving man?
Messenger: Then attending leaving this Theban ground we crossed the rushing Asopus, we struck out into the rocky Cithaeron, Pentheus and I, for I followed my master, and the stranger who was escort to the festival/viewing.
I almost always save Homer for last. Where I am in the story Achilleus has just learned of Patroklus' death and held conference with his mother, who brings him new armor from Hephaestus as he prepares to retrieve the body.
Iliad XVIII.207-218
And as when smoke going from the city of a far island would reach the aether, its enemies battling around it, and those which all day were judged by hateful Ares, from their city. And together with the setting sun the numerous beacon-fires blaze and the glow comes darting on high to be seen by the neighbors, which there with ships might come as defenders. Thus from the head of Achilleus went radiance to the sky. And he going from the wall stood upon the trench, nor did he mingle with the Achaians, for he regarded the command of his mother. There standing he bellowed and Pallas Athena called aloud from afar. Yet he roused inexpressible confusion among the Trojans.
It isn't ever much, and it isn't ever much good, but with an afternoon to spare there isn't a much better way to pass it than sipping a cup of hot coffee and taking what nibbles I can of the ancient Mediterranean.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Into Summer
It's warm out every day now, and the Smith family of Clover Park Drive is preparing for summer. My first full season with Symphoria wrapped up, and I've been offered the job for another year. There was a big Beethoven 9 show in April, and for the first time all season I walked from the parking garage to the hall in sunny/pleasant weather. All year long that walk had been through whipping winds and slush and brown snow mountains. I hardly knew what to think as we walked through a beautiful downtown Syracuse. There was a "highbrow" movie show after that, and then a much more enjoyable "lowbrow" movie music pops show.
The first week after the end of Symphoria was gloriously blank, but BPO called as I was wrapping up the pops concerts with an offer to play one of their pops shows. And then a donor concert. And then a classics week. And then the contemporary music week. And that's how my "low-key" June turned into working in Buffalo all month. But that's been great--there's a lot of money coming in, and both new cars have been (knock-knock) free from trouble. I continue to spend lots of quality time with I-90.
J is beginning to show a bit of baby bump. She's very cute. It's been encouraging to see everyone's reaction to the news, and I know that she loves being pregnant. She's more keen on an afternoon nap nowadays, but otherwise she's keeping up the same pace to her days. She teaches at a local Christian school on Wednesday mornings, Hochstein on Wednesday nights, and then does church work from Thursday through Sunday. She played a quintet recital last week, and James sat through the whole thing without a peep. Just as we've got the one child trained to attend concerts, we're going to need to break in another!
James lives for the spish-spish. He wants to be outside all the time, and his favorite place to be is roaming up and down the near side of the automated car wash. At this point most of the employees--college aged boys in bow-ties, starched blue shirts, and sneakers--know him by name and wave to him. He mashes his face up against the windows and they'll occasionally spray at him with a hose. Once he watches the attendants hose off the car he dashes to the next window to watch it get soaped, then to the next window to watch the automatic dryer kick on, and then to the exit to watch the car drive out dripping and "all clean."
It's hot in our apartment most of the time, up on the second floor, and that's just fine so far. I practice in shorts and an undershirt, and slip on flip flops to take laundry or trash down to the basement. Adulthood is starting to get a bit easier. I say this with great caution and humility, but I think that now more often than not my laundry is done, my living quarters are clean, and the urgent items on my desk are taken care of.
There's still a lot up in the air, of course. We don't know where we'll live next fall, or where I'll work the fall after that. We don't know if we're in upstate New York to stay, or just until the next audition. But we have lots of good food in the fridge, two working vehicles, a little boy who chatters our ear off, and three potted plants on the table. We have the greatest supermarket in the world down the street, a perfectly manicured courtyard lawn, and three big trees outside the window. We have temperatures in the 70s and the 80s for the next week, and a chance to be out in it as a family. Summer is here, and it is good.
The first week after the end of Symphoria was gloriously blank, but BPO called as I was wrapping up the pops concerts with an offer to play one of their pops shows. And then a donor concert. And then a classics week. And then the contemporary music week. And that's how my "low-key" June turned into working in Buffalo all month. But that's been great--there's a lot of money coming in, and both new cars have been (knock-knock) free from trouble. I continue to spend lots of quality time with I-90.
J is beginning to show a bit of baby bump. She's very cute. It's been encouraging to see everyone's reaction to the news, and I know that she loves being pregnant. She's more keen on an afternoon nap nowadays, but otherwise she's keeping up the same pace to her days. She teaches at a local Christian school on Wednesday mornings, Hochstein on Wednesday nights, and then does church work from Thursday through Sunday. She played a quintet recital last week, and James sat through the whole thing without a peep. Just as we've got the one child trained to attend concerts, we're going to need to break in another!
James lives for the spish-spish. He wants to be outside all the time, and his favorite place to be is roaming up and down the near side of the automated car wash. At this point most of the employees--college aged boys in bow-ties, starched blue shirts, and sneakers--know him by name and wave to him. He mashes his face up against the windows and they'll occasionally spray at him with a hose. Once he watches the attendants hose off the car he dashes to the next window to watch it get soaped, then to the next window to watch the automatic dryer kick on, and then to the exit to watch the car drive out dripping and "all clean."
It's hot in our apartment most of the time, up on the second floor, and that's just fine so far. I practice in shorts and an undershirt, and slip on flip flops to take laundry or trash down to the basement. Adulthood is starting to get a bit easier. I say this with great caution and humility, but I think that now more often than not my laundry is done, my living quarters are clean, and the urgent items on my desk are taken care of.
There's still a lot up in the air, of course. We don't know where we'll live next fall, or where I'll work the fall after that. We don't know if we're in upstate New York to stay, or just until the next audition. But we have lots of good food in the fridge, two working vehicles, a little boy who chatters our ear off, and three potted plants on the table. We have the greatest supermarket in the world down the street, a perfectly manicured courtyard lawn, and three big trees outside the window. We have temperatures in the 70s and the 80s for the next week, and a chance to be out in it as a family. Summer is here, and it is good.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Poems for Memorial Day
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace
AND THEN A MARCHING BAND CAME IN
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace
AND THEN A MARCHING BAND CAME IN
Get up, get up for shame, the Blooming Morne
Upon her wings presents the god unshorne.
See how Aurora throwes her faire
Fresh-quilted colours through the aire:
Get up, sweet-Slug-a-bed, and see
The Dew-bespangling Herbe and Tree.
Each Flower has wept, and bow'd toward the East,
Above an houre since; yet you not drest,
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the Birds have Mattens seyd,
AND THEN A MARCHING BAND COMES IN
Is the night chilly and dark?
The night is chilly, but not dark.
The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
It covers but not hides the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full;
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
'Tis a month before the month of May,
And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
AND THEN A MARCHING BAND COMES IN
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
ON A MARCHING BAND COMING IN
the moral of the story is that having a marching band show up doesn't really make anything better...
Monday, May 12, 2014
Yaris
A dark night in a city that knows how keep its secrets...but up on the second floor of the Clover Park building one man is trying to find the answer to life's persistent questions.
It was a cold Sunday evening, and I was down in a basement working on an old case with my brother over a couple of stale beers. Something about some missing robots and a broad looking for an old guy who was her "only hope." I'd been in the same uncomfortable shoes and smelly suit all weekend long, and I got a phone call from my brother-in-law, Timmy thumbs.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, hey, sorry about your car, but I won't be fixin' it."
Well didn't that just figure. My old jalopy had finally quit on me, like an old broad giving up on a bad marriage. Without Timmy's mechanical expertise there'd be no chance of squeezing a few more hundred miles out of her. She'd been a good old car, but like so many ladies in my life she was finally moving on and leaving for good.
I didn't even call ahead to the airport, I just showed up amid shuffling along the dirty asphalt and looking in the windows of the car rental places. There was one open, and I hired it for two days. It was a sweet little thing, way out of a normal private eye's pocketbook. I climbed inside more weary than I could ever remember and went off driving two hours to a little joint in a town called Hamilton. You see, sometimes in the evenings I play the trumpet with some other cats in town. It's the only work I could find that's more dangerous and less profitable than being a private eye, so it seemed like a good fit.
When I was out there I made some calls to some buddies and got ahold of some fellow selling a Yaris. My brother owned a Yaris, and there was a lot to like about them. Dependable. Small. Easy to miss. I set up a time to meet the fellow on Tuesday and played my gig.
After far too few hours sleep I rolled out of bed again and was back on a case at a local school. I'd been hired to do a job there, canvassing the place for any signs of musical talent. I'd been at it for years, it sometimes felt like, and still hadn't found a thing. I drove the rental car around and even showed it to my kid. He's a swell little boy. He thought the sunroof was great, and he made me open it and close it again about a hundred times. I went back out to Hamilton again that night, and got back so late it was almost Tuesday morning again.
When I got up on Tuesday it was a dark and rainy sort of morning. I pulled on a jacket and drove up to the north part of town, looking for a used car dealer. I didn't have anything in particular in mind, but I thought it might be a good idea to have a second option before I might with that fellow who was selling the Yaris. As a matter of fact, there was a Yaris at the dealership too. I met with some dame named Tina. She was Italian, and kinda pushy.When she asked for my name I told her it was "Mr. Smith." She asked me what I was looking to pay for the Yaris.
"Well, I said, I wanna spend about 7 gs."
She laughed at me and made some big show of asking her manager what he could do for me. They gave me a number and tried to twist my arm into staying and buying their car, but I've wriggled out of too many tight situations. I was on the road again as the rain battered my rental's windshield, but not to go meet the fellow with the other Yaris yet.
I met my wife at a doctor's office on the south part of town. She pulled up in a black sedan, and stepped out into the drizzle. She was a wearing a gray cocktail hoodie, and if it had been form fitting you could've seen that she really big breasts, 'cause she was knocked up. She had our other kid in tow behind her, and he was doing some investigating of his own to see if he could pinch her iPad.
We walked into the fluorescent lighting and ancient carpet of the doctor's office, and some dame gave her an ultrasound while the new baby did its best informant protection and stayed hid. She had to get some blood drawn, and I left her with the boy. I'd seen too much blood already in my days...
I drove back to my place and dug around in the old metal filing cabinets in the basement to find some crucial documents--titles and registrations and the like. Then I drove back up to the north part of town and met with the fellow who was selling his Yaris privately.
The car was a dump. It had been keyed, the brakes were shot, the engine light was on, and the whole inside was covered with a layer of grime. I drove it around the block just to be polite, and the fellow poured out his life story--getting arrested, losing his job, kids from different women, doing drugs (inside the car, judging by the smell) and pretty much guaranteeing that I would not be buying a vehicle from him. I felt like his therapist.
I called back Rita from the used car place, and told her we'd be buying her Yaris. I drove back to the south part of the city, we loaded up the kid and drove up to the north part of the city. If we hustled, we could still drop the rental off before we got charged an extra day.
No luck. There was a hold-up on the paperwork, and they told us we'd have to come back the next day. I shuffled back home again, dropped off my wife and my kid, and then made the journey out to Hamilton. It's tough, life on the road. Nothing but you and your thoughts, and when you're a private eye or an orchestral trumpet player you've seen some scary things in your time. Too many cheating husbands or pompous conductors. It almost makes you lose faith in humanity. But then, just when you're about ready to give up on decent people, you hear some really great music.
Nah, it was a Haydn oratorio. So mostly I pinched myself to stay awake and tried to convince myself that I might have a car again by the next night.
It was cold and rainy again. I poked around the school again in the morning, peering down clarinet barrels and trying to make sense of broken reeds and jammed valves. There are some mysteries that not even the most experienced detective can make sense of. How a fourth grader breaks there instrument twice in one week is one of those mysteries.
In the afternoon we finally dropped off the rental car, and then got ready to liquidate the rest of our earthly goods on a new used car.
Ah, a Yaris. Some call it the Rolls-Royce of the economy import subcompact class. She looked beautiful, even in the the foul weather, all polished up and waiting to be driven. We signed a folder full of papers, got the usual blank stare-turning-into-laughter when I tried to explain how I made a normal income, just in four different pieces, and then signed our names one last time and wrote a check. And then we climbed into our new Yaris and got ready to fight the rush hour traffic on the way back home.
A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets...but up on the second floor of the Clover Park building one man is trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions...
It was a cold Sunday evening, and I was down in a basement working on an old case with my brother over a couple of stale beers. Something about some missing robots and a broad looking for an old guy who was her "only hope." I'd been in the same uncomfortable shoes and smelly suit all weekend long, and I got a phone call from my brother-in-law, Timmy thumbs.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, hey, sorry about your car, but I won't be fixin' it."
Well didn't that just figure. My old jalopy had finally quit on me, like an old broad giving up on a bad marriage. Without Timmy's mechanical expertise there'd be no chance of squeezing a few more hundred miles out of her. She'd been a good old car, but like so many ladies in my life she was finally moving on and leaving for good.
I didn't even call ahead to the airport, I just showed up amid shuffling along the dirty asphalt and looking in the windows of the car rental places. There was one open, and I hired it for two days. It was a sweet little thing, way out of a normal private eye's pocketbook. I climbed inside more weary than I could ever remember and went off driving two hours to a little joint in a town called Hamilton. You see, sometimes in the evenings I play the trumpet with some other cats in town. It's the only work I could find that's more dangerous and less profitable than being a private eye, so it seemed like a good fit.
When I was out there I made some calls to some buddies and got ahold of some fellow selling a Yaris. My brother owned a Yaris, and there was a lot to like about them. Dependable. Small. Easy to miss. I set up a time to meet the fellow on Tuesday and played my gig.
After far too few hours sleep I rolled out of bed again and was back on a case at a local school. I'd been hired to do a job there, canvassing the place for any signs of musical talent. I'd been at it for years, it sometimes felt like, and still hadn't found a thing. I drove the rental car around and even showed it to my kid. He's a swell little boy. He thought the sunroof was great, and he made me open it and close it again about a hundred times. I went back out to Hamilton again that night, and got back so late it was almost Tuesday morning again.
When I got up on Tuesday it was a dark and rainy sort of morning. I pulled on a jacket and drove up to the north part of town, looking for a used car dealer. I didn't have anything in particular in mind, but I thought it might be a good idea to have a second option before I might with that fellow who was selling the Yaris. As a matter of fact, there was a Yaris at the dealership too. I met with some dame named Tina. She was Italian, and kinda pushy.When she asked for my name I told her it was "Mr. Smith." She asked me what I was looking to pay for the Yaris.
"Well, I said, I wanna spend about 7 gs."
She laughed at me and made some big show of asking her manager what he could do for me. They gave me a number and tried to twist my arm into staying and buying their car, but I've wriggled out of too many tight situations. I was on the road again as the rain battered my rental's windshield, but not to go meet the fellow with the other Yaris yet.
I met my wife at a doctor's office on the south part of town. She pulled up in a black sedan, and stepped out into the drizzle. She was a wearing a gray cocktail hoodie, and if it had been form fitting you could've seen that she really big breasts, 'cause she was knocked up. She had our other kid in tow behind her, and he was doing some investigating of his own to see if he could pinch her iPad.
We walked into the fluorescent lighting and ancient carpet of the doctor's office, and some dame gave her an ultrasound while the new baby did its best informant protection and stayed hid. She had to get some blood drawn, and I left her with the boy. I'd seen too much blood already in my days...
I drove back to my place and dug around in the old metal filing cabinets in the basement to find some crucial documents--titles and registrations and the like. Then I drove back up to the north part of town and met with the fellow who was selling his Yaris privately.
The car was a dump. It had been keyed, the brakes were shot, the engine light was on, and the whole inside was covered with a layer of grime. I drove it around the block just to be polite, and the fellow poured out his life story--getting arrested, losing his job, kids from different women, doing drugs (inside the car, judging by the smell) and pretty much guaranteeing that I would not be buying a vehicle from him. I felt like his therapist.
I called back Rita from the used car place, and told her we'd be buying her Yaris. I drove back to the south part of the city, we loaded up the kid and drove up to the north part of the city. If we hustled, we could still drop the rental off before we got charged an extra day.
No luck. There was a hold-up on the paperwork, and they told us we'd have to come back the next day. I shuffled back home again, dropped off my wife and my kid, and then made the journey out to Hamilton. It's tough, life on the road. Nothing but you and your thoughts, and when you're a private eye or an orchestral trumpet player you've seen some scary things in your time. Too many cheating husbands or pompous conductors. It almost makes you lose faith in humanity. But then, just when you're about ready to give up on decent people, you hear some really great music.
Nah, it was a Haydn oratorio. So mostly I pinched myself to stay awake and tried to convince myself that I might have a car again by the next night.
It was cold and rainy again. I poked around the school again in the morning, peering down clarinet barrels and trying to make sense of broken reeds and jammed valves. There are some mysteries that not even the most experienced detective can make sense of. How a fourth grader breaks there instrument twice in one week is one of those mysteries.
In the afternoon we finally dropped off the rental car, and then got ready to liquidate the rest of our earthly goods on a new used car.
Ah, a Yaris. Some call it the Rolls-Royce of the economy import subcompact class. She looked beautiful, even in the the foul weather, all polished up and waiting to be driven. We signed a folder full of papers, got the usual blank stare-turning-into-laughter when I tried to explain how I made a normal income, just in four different pieces, and then signed our names one last time and wrote a check. And then we climbed into our new Yaris and got ready to fight the rush hour traffic on the way back home.
A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets...but up on the second floor of the Clover Park building one man is trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions...
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