The Secret Handshake

It's happening again. Since I'm not dragging my knuckles on the ground (to borrow a phrase from a fellow blogger, on hiatus
Shaking Spears who I miss ), I'm subjected to the obligatory Bush bashing, America is evil, I assume you are a Democrat, presumptuous rhetoric of the Left.
Today, it came from an artist I was speaking with from whom I had just made a significant purchase. Honestly, we had had such a nice time discussing her art and inspirations. She had spoken about her husband and grown daughter, where they lived , where they wished they lived, where they vacationed and where they went to school. She told me an amusing story about a banker and the decision not to change her name when she got married. We laughed together . Perhaps she thought we were kindred souls.
It was not my intention to find out the most I possibily could in the shortest amount of time about this person's life. I had asked very few questions. A simple nod of my head and a small smile was all it took to open the flood gates of her personal life and it had been pleasant until BAM out of nowhere it seems, I'm hit with her anger and contempt for Bush. I must not have been able to conceal my astonishment because she continued by saying "I assume you are a Democrat..."
Unwittingly, I had given the secret handshake and gained entry in her exclusive club of people who think like she does. What could it have been I wondered. I had revealed very few personal facts. All I could think of was that I had been kind and courteous and shown an interest and appreciation for the arts. Could it have been that I was gasp likeble? How then how could I NOT be a Democrat?
I've written about these presumptions before here and neo-neocon has a post on point here. I suspect as long as my Democratic friends continue to express shock, dismay and outright denial of my conservative views, I will continue to comment on it.

Music in Estes Park: Rocky VI

I always have a good time at workshops. I see people I haven't seen for a while, stay in beautiful places and usually learn something new about the music we play. This year for example, I learned that Giovanni Gabrieli, is credited for composing the first double choir music which was ideally suited for Saint Mark's Basilica (where he was principal organist) and which led to the emergence of modern symphony orchestras.
Topics and teachers vary per workshop. Participants choose the classes and the instructors they prefer. I chose "advanced" classes which included Recorder Challenges: by Frances Blaker, Variations on "Bergamasca": by Connie Primus and Fugal Flauto: by Mark Davenport , a demanding schedule dominated with music by J.S. Bach and Ludwig Senfl among others.
As it turned out, I didn't play very well which was primarily due to my poor breathing and articulation. I wish I could blame it on the 7,ooo plus feet altitude but I really can't.
So for me, (neither a professional performer or scholar), it's not just about the music, history, styles and techniques but whether I learn something about myself.

My viol group...

in a past life.


Detail from Herzog August the Younger and His Family, c.1645, by Albert Freyse 

Music in the Mountains

I'll be attending a musical retreat in Estes Park for the weekend.
"Elk will gambol. Krummhorns will squawk. The sound of recorders will echo through the woods."
I'll be all played out by Monday.

Suggestion for Newsweek re:The Daily Demarche

Dr. Demarche at The Daily Demarche has an idea how Newsweek can correct their recent errors by publishing FACTS detailing U.S. developmental projects completed in Iraq.

Why I Blog and Read Blogs

Because I have had some technical difficulties blogging lately (hopefully fully resolved now), I thought I needed to reestablish why I bother to blog at all.
The truth is, there are some very well written, insightful and amusing blogs out there. Of course there is a lot of trash too.
I don't mind sloshing through adolescent angst, and the slurry of product promotions. Family blogs can make me feel guilty that I am not a better sister, aunt or cousin, and some soldiers' blogs make me cry. I pass quickly over homework assignments and soccer results but get strange comfort in knowing that someone cares about the scores. Sometimes I am embarrassed by the intimacies revealed in photos and text but with the click of my mouse, I remove myself. In other words I've found the blogosphere both foreign and familiar, comforting and concerning.
Before I really started to blog crawl, I would read all the comments at my favorite websites and before long I started recognizing the same names over and over again. This core of contributors and readers would engage in lively repartee, answering questions, posing problems and making suggestions. If I listened very carefully (regularly read all the posts), I could discover things, like where they worked and where they lived. I was fascinated. But never once did I participate. No matter how much I enjoyed the witty banter, I was just a lurker.
Years passed.
I don't remember what or whom finally prompted my first comment but I was instantly hooked. I'm thinking now it was in response to some event the mainstream media had either misconstrued or totally ignored. To my surprise another person actually shared my concern. Wow! This was much more satisfying than writing a letter to "The Editor".
Truthfully, bloggers have given me much more than I have returned. They have inspired and provoked me, awed and disgusted me, enlightened and informed me. I wouldn't have it any other way.
So at this time when Newsweek publishes information that can only harm, regardless of the accuracy (and as it turns out was frankly false,) I turn to the bloggers (and the internet) who may not have the "credentials" or the historical standards of mainstream journalists, but thankfully don't share their insouciant, irresponsible arrogance.

curtains