Spooky Season is upon us, and everyone is getting into the festive spirit of the season. I know I sure am! I’ve already carved pumpkins and had my share of pumpkin-spiced cookies (perhaps too many!), and am heading out tomorrow to a festival dedicated to Bigfoot!
I don’t have much to add that I haven’t already commented upon in prior years, so I’m going to get on with this perennial Halloween season classic.
With that, here is 13 October2022’s “TBT^2: Things That Go Bump in the Night“:
Ah, yes—autumn. Music sounds sweeter, food tastes better, girls look prettier. What is it about the autumn that rings everything in a warm, golden glow? Is it the coming crispness in the air? The shorter days, the chilly nights? Or perhaps the leaves falling from the trees, the continuous cycle of death and renewal circling ever onwards?
Whatever it is, it’s a great time to compose and play music. As I noted last year, it’s “the time of year when my personal creativity seems to spark.” Indeed, the sequel to Spooky Season (now on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube), Spooky Season II: Rise of the Cryptids releases tomorrow, Friday, 6 October 2023 on Bandcamp.
I’ve been using a free trial of Noteflight to compose lately, and I’ve really enjoyed it. It’s very robust, although it (surprisingly) lacks some of the depth and breadth of sounds as my ancient copy of Cakewalk 3.0. Unlike Cakewalk 3.0, however, it will run on a modern operating system, so it’s good enough for me!
I don’t have a nice, tidy composing routine like Gustav Mahler or Beethoven. I kind of jot down ideas in my music journal when I have a few spare lines of staff paper, then try to expand those motifs into full pieces (or just compose twelve-second pieces—ha!). Then I slap everything into Noteflight approximately whenever I feel like it, or when I’m on a composing tear and can’t stop!
With that, here is 6 October 2022’s “TBT: Mahler’s Composing Shack“:
This year is the first time I’ve noticed a pop cultural excitement for autumn. Sure, people love talking about “sweater weather” and Spooky Season, but this year it’s everywhere. I’ve witnessed dozen of memes all gleefully proclaiming the arrival of fall before August even had a chance to expire.
The pumpkin spiced everything trend is also back in a big way, and marketers have gone all in to cater to single women with disposable incomes. In this case, lump me in with the single women. While I haven’t bought gallons pumpkin spiced lattes (now trendily abbreviated as “PSLs”), I certainly appreciate pumpkin flavoring.
Besides, who doesn’t love the festive rotundity of pumpkins? They’re so round and jolly—the charismatic, carotene-rich cousins to the lumpy squash.
So it is that I happily greet the start of autumn, even if that does make me a girl.
With that, here is “TBT^4: The Joy of Autumn“:
Yours portly is a morning person, but there is also something electric about the night (as for afternoons, well, why bother?—they’re hot and sleepy, and are better spent napping than working). Some of the best songs I’ve ever written were completed at 2 AM. While the approaching time change brings the night on a bit too early—who wants to leave work in total darkness at 5 PM?—it does cloak everything in a simultaneously cozy and exciting twilight.
Nighttime is certainly not without its dangers—animals and people prowling about, looking for prey; otherworldly spooks haunting decrepit graveyards; nasty, crawling things oozing about in one’s vegetable garden. But it’s that very sense of the unknown, of the potential nightmares lurking around the corner, that make the night so fascinating—and exciting!
Of course, I much prefer the safety of a well-lit night at a good coffee shop or eatery, with exquisite music and good company. Music sounds better in the autumn, but it also sounds better at night. Don’t ask me why—it’s the mysticism of the night.
With that, here is 15 September 2022’s “TBT: The Frisson of the Night“:
Right after the start of the new school year, I had the opportunity to hoof it down to Orlando for a day at Universal Studios with my family. After going way too many times in 2020, I haven’t been back much since, so it was good to get back into the parks, even if for only a day.
Before school resumed, I found myself driving all over South Carolina to dine with an array of beauties. That also provided ample opportunity to explore the highways and byways of my beloved State.
There is a beautiful drive through the countryside between my home of Lamar, South Carolina, and I-95, which GPS always recommends when I head to the Charleston/Mount Pleasant region of South Carolina. It winds south of town on US-401 to the unincorporated community of Elliott, South Carolina, then veers off onto SC-527 for several miles before hitting I-95 South. There’s a beautiful old church in Elliott with stained glass windows; across from it is a postage stamp-sized post office, proudly flying its American Flag on a mostly empty street corner.
Along SC-527 is an abandoned middle school, overgrown with weeds and brambles. While I’m sure there is nothing there now but raccoons and spiders, I’d like to poke around in those remains. I also wonder what it was like attending classes at this brick-and-concrete edifice in the middle of corn fields in a remote corner of the State, and what devastating depopulation had to occur for a school to find itself, empty and abandoned, so far from anything. What must it be like for a school to die? If a school dies, it means the community has already died much earlier.
I’ve come to enjoy these little trips. There’s a great deal to see, and I enjoy the quiet drives. After one (quite successful—fingers crossed!) excursion to Summerville, I found myself driving back during a massive storm. Fortunately, the driving was easy, but the lightning was terrific—blasting out in huge bursts that turned night into day. I was listening to A Flock of Seagull’s hit “I Ran,” and the lightning would sometimes hit in time with the constantly moving synthesizer part, creating a cinematic effect that could never be duplicated.
My advice to readers: hit the road!
With that, here is 1 September 2022’s “TBT: Road Trip!“:
School’s back, and that means Chapel on Thursdays! Today is one of the first chapels of the school year. I always enjoy hearing the short little devotionals from our chaplain, and they’re quite beneficial for those students who choose to take them to heart.
There was a small chance that I might be asked to serve as chaplain this year—quite a responsibility!—but the school obtained someone more qualified for the job (in other words, someone with an actual degree in theology and practical experience in ministry). I imagine I will still be called upon, at times, to provide a short homily or lesson when the new guy is absent.
Regardless, it seemed like an excellent time to look back at this little message I delivered to our students last year. Listening is hard, and it’s even harder when we’re constantly engulfed in noise. That makes it particularly hard to listen to God’s Still, Small Voice, much less the much louder voices of people around us.
With that, here is 30 August 2022’s “Chapel Lesson: Listening“:
It’s interesting to come back to the question of the value of civilization from time to time. For what it’s worth, I think civilization is definitely worth maintaining, even with the inevitable social ills that come with it. Better to live a life abundant in not just material well-being, but also with opportunities for self-improvement and finer pursuits, like literature and art, than to be scrounging around for every meal.
Of course, the few remaining peoples that live the hunter-gatherer life would disagree—if they were even capable of conceiving of a different lifestyle. As difficult as it is for us in the “civilized” world to imagine the hunter-gatherer’s life, how much more difficult must it for be for the hunter-gatherer to conceive of our life?
I doubt either one would trade places with the other, which is what makes the situation so intriguing. Both ways of life have merits and pitfalls. Beyond that, that human beings could live such vastly different lives is a testament to the incredible diversity of our own species. It’s fascinating to consider that we have, essentially, living ancestors in the world today, people who live largely as all humans did in the remotest past of our time on this planet.
All interesting, conceptual things to consider. Which life would you choose?
With that, here is 18 August 2022’s “TBT: Rebuilding Civilization: The Hunter-Gatherer“:
The 2023-2024 school year commenced yesterday, which brings to mind this annual tradition of mine: re-reading the introduction to Richard Weaver’s Ideas Have Consequences.
Unfortunately, I don’t always manage to dip back into this classic work every year, but I find that when I do, it helps to crystallize why it is I do what I do, and what is at stake. I’m under no illusion—as some teachers are!—that I can “save the world” or any such messianic nonsense. The crusading impulse that I possessed as a naïve young teacher is no longer there, beyond some vestigial bits of self-righteous fury that peak from behind the clouds of well-worn cynicism.
Still, we have much to be thankful for, even as the empire burns around us and the elites fiddle. Life is sweet; the opportunity for an education is a privilege and joy. I’m thankful to be a small part of that process.
With that, here is 25 August 2022’s “TBT^4: Back to School with Richard Weaver“:
Recently, I had the opportunity to catch up with an old friend of mine from college. He has turned the backyard of his cookie-cutter suburban house into a veritable Garden of Eden—or, at least, an impressive little homestead. He’s managed to grow everything from blueberries to squash to melons and more, to the point that he can substantially impact his grocery bill—and that’s with three energetic sons! The boys have already stripped the blueberry bushes clean.
He takes great joy in being able to feed his sons and his wife from his garden. Sure, they still have to buy groceries, but they enjoy delicious, fresh fruits and vegetables throughout the year. My friend also takes particular care to save seeds for future plantings, and has an impressive compost pile in a dark corner of the yard. He tells me that about once a year he’ll dig to the bottom of the pile and find pure, black, nutrient-rich soil.
He even raises his own worms! He tells me it’s incredibly easy to do, a “low effort, high reward” project that helps to keep his garden’s soil rich and aerated. His young sons also love helping out in the garden, and the worms are a fun, crawly project for them all. They even have a dill plant with monarch butterfly caterpillars, which he has had to cover with netting so the birds don’t gobble up the beautiful larvae.
It’s truly inspiring seeing this kind of backyard agriculture first-hand, and my friend’s dedication to preserving heirloom varieties while also feeding his family is impressive. He gave me some corn kernels for planting, which I’ll save for next spring.
I did not arrive empty-handed, though. The broccoli plants that I so disgracefully let wither managed to survive! I had one, impressive, beautiful plant return. Rather than gobbling it up, I let it flower. The little buds we see on supermarket broccoli will, if left to grow, blossom into gorgeous yellow flowers. Over time, seed pods will develop after the petals fall; those pods and their stems turn brittle, and eventually fall to the earth. Either the second broccoli I planted made a comeback, too, or I have had a new plant rise up from fallen seeds.
Regardless, broccoli produce tons of seeds, and I was able to take my friend a bag full of them. As for my plant, I’m going to let nature take its course and see what happens next.
Here’s to letting a thousand broccoli flowers bloom!
With that, here is 11 August 2022’s “TBT: Preserving Old Varieties“:
All things must come to an end. That includes sleeping in, taking naps, and being well-rested.
Yes, it’s sad, but true: the endless freedom and fun of summer is over, at least for yours portly. Today, I am back at work.
I’ve noted before how the return date for teachers seems to inch earlier and earlier into August. Last year, we went back on 5 August 2022—a Friday. That seemed almost intentionally spiteful on the part of my administration: “nope, you’re not going to have one full week left with fun weekend plans; you need to sit through the employee handbook again.”
Now it’s 3 August 2023, a Thursday. That seems even more spiteful. Why not give us one last, full week?
Readers might say, “Hey, you’ve been off for eight weeks; why are you complaining?” Or, alternatively, “Well, if the start of school is imminent, maybe you need to go back today.”
Wrong—wrong! Classes do not resume until Wednesday, 16 August 2023, almost two weeks from today. Four days next week are tied up with student registration. So we’ll have three days of mind-numbingly bureaucratic meetings—during which I’m sure we’ll learn of some new, onerous burden that we teachers are to bear—followed by a bunch of kids buying textbooks.
But I must adopt a positive attitude. While I am not thrilled to be going back to work, the routine will certainly do me some good. I am beginning to understand why people die six months after retirement. Sometimes, the free time can be overwhelming.
I mean, not for me, but I can see how it could be for some people. We get so used to working nonstop, it’s hard to slow down. Fortunately, yours portly enjoys his afternoon naptime as much as the next octogenarian.
I digress. The school year does bring with a pleasant rhythm—and more music lessons. July is the leanest month of the year for those, and while teaching twenty-ish lessons a week in addition to my normal course load is grueling, it brings in the bacon.
Of course, my skin flint readers (that’s you!) could also pitch in a few bucks each month (thanks to those of you who do!), but I know budgets are tight. Why send $5 a month to a cool dude you know and love when you can spend it at some soulless corporation that wants to use your corpse for dog food?
Goodness! That escalated quickly. Can you tell I’m a tad irate?
With that, here is “TBT^2: Back to the Grind 2020“:
The Portly Politico 