Archive for the ‘Seventies’ category

A New Mode of Enjoying Music

February 16, 2025

In my occasional wanderings on YouTube, which I go to mostly for music of interest, I’ve encountered a new way of enjoying music.

At least for me. And it’s not new in other contexts of course, when friends of like mind and tastes get together to play music that means something to them. Although this in-person activity probably doesn’t happen that much anymore, sadly.

I’m not sure of the most concise way to describe these YouTube offerings, but they’re about enjoying watching the video presenter enjoy music that I also like.

Most often, these are tunes in the “classic rock” realm. The presenter may be a classically trained musician or just someone born too late to experience the music back in the day. They often claim they are listening to the particular rock music for the first time.

As a person who grew up with all that music, it can be hard to believe that the music I love from that time is not ubiquitous, or that it may not even be remembered at all.

ImageThe most recent videos of this kind that I’ve enjoyed are those from Amy Shafer, a harpist and classical pianist who calls herself Virgin Rock. She does present in her musical reaction videos an image like a restrained music teacher or librarian. But she breaks into enthusiasm at different aspects of the rock music she is, apparently, discovering for the first time. All while wearing pearls.

She has an entire series of these videos. The first I came across was her take on A Whiter Shade of Pale, by Procol Harum. (I have written about this song before.) She gives background and then gets into listening to the piece. In this case there is added interest for her due to the Bach influence.

Then with the first majestic melancholic notes of the organ, you get to join with her in appreciation of the music and how it’s performed. Her background gives a different angle of insight.

ImageAnother I recently watched is her appreciation of White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane. That is about as far removed from classical music as I can imagine, but she genuinely appears to find it appealing. Of course, the vocal by Grace Slick is magnificent.

Her other reaction videos cover music by the Beatles, Pink Floyd, the Doors, Tom Petty and many more.

One of my favorite songs as a teenager listening to late night rock radio from a northern BC log cabin was The Time Has Come by the Chambers Brothers. Classical composer Doug Helvering reacts to this psychedelic soul track which broke big during the Vietnam War.

Helvering analyzes the musical structure and gives his thoughts as we listen. And it’s amusing when he brings out a pipe for a couple of tokes. Getting into the spirit of it.

ImageThe best presenters to me are not making squeals of delight or putting on exaggerated expressions, but it is the quality of the listening that comes through, even if they don’t make a big deal of their reaction.

Another reaction video that appeals is from Morenikeji Taiwo who listens to Crosby, Stills and Nash’s Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.

For a final one, there’s Three Dog Nights Never Been to Spain as reacted to by a duo at Rob Squad Reactions.

Part of the charm of watching people listening to music I like is that it makes me listen to the music, almost as for the first time. I appreciate anew in “classic rock” the confluence of the desire to leave the Fifties behind, the cultural eruption of psychedelics, the technical progress in recording music for all, the civil rights movement, the tragedy of the Vietnam war, and the amazing amassing of so many unusually musical young people. The young were open and hungry for change, and music allowed so many different expressions of that.

As I looked around more while writing this, there is a real YouTube industry about these reaction videos. I don’t know how sincere in their appreciation some of the presenters are. It may be for some a way to break into being an influencer or for pumping views on a YouTube channel. But it does makes me happy to see so many delving into the music I grew up with.

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Halls of Sun, Corridors of Rain – Part 2

September 2, 2024

This is a continuation of an earlier post where I excavate among the many quotes and observations of my notebooks, and see if I can find anything odd, funny or thought provoking.

I spent the great majority of my life wanting to write, rather than doing so, and I consoled myself about this procrastination by at least carrying a notebook around with me. So I have a few. Like a writer.

—————————-

When do the unbroken, colt-like spirits of the young begin to stiffen?
Early 80s

Pity the old men; the old women seem to have each other, but old men sit by themselves.
Early 80s

And to what only a
future wisdom
could let me
know

that we have drunk from the same stream
and found it good, and found it sad
but found it all the same
undated: I don’t know if this should be in quotes or if I came up with it in some besotted state.

“The least thing has a bit of the unknown in it. Let us find this. In order to describe a fire burning or a tree in the field, let us stand in front of that fire and that tree until they no longer look to us like any other fire or any other tree. This is how one becomes original.”
Guy de Maupassant, found in Dec. 1975. I understand this passage better now.

“I am gently mad and would live cleanly.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, undated notebook.

Walking on a street in New York City, fifty years ago:

A woman is wailing, over and over again. “Aaahhhh! There’s only death and trouble, only death and trouble.”

She mutters about the cost of food and something about the pain of children before continuing with her bitter refrain shouted at strangers. “Aaahh! Death and trouble! Only death and trouble!”

I walked past her silently, agreeing in part, and in part thankful that sometimes I can see life more positively.
1970s

How about an alien flower whose blossom is one of fire every fifty years, say. Fire dancing above green vines, centering in their midst, but at the height of their bloom showering the plant with golden light.
1970s notebook

I understand Doris Lessing. She feels like she’s on an alien planet – one she’s been brought to unknowingly.
1980s notebook

“Interesting mental structure down here, eh Chambers?”

“Oy, Sir Filbert, very odd!”

“Don’t you think that those… obsessive curlicues… are too incredible!”

“But there they are!”

“The whole structure is deucedly odd.”
1980s notebook

“Memory is a set of sagas we live by, much like the way of the Norse wild men in their bear shirts. That such rememberings take place in a single cave of brain rather than half a hundred minds warrened wildly into one another makes them sagas no less.”
Ivan Doig, another 1980s notebook

“Maximization over optimization is ultimate failure.”
Morris Berman, another 1980s notebook

“ …[the writer] must have trained himself to choose, in every context, the strangest [my handwriting – it’s probably ‘strongest’!] form of the verb that will serve his meaning. It is thus that he writes dramatically, and as we shall see, every sentence, if it is to be interesting, must be an unfolding drama.”
John Fairfax and John Moat, 1980s notebook

kneeling man offers
crumbs to birds –
more alight
1980s notebook

“This means that human homecoming is a matter of learning how to dwell intimately with that which resists our attempts to control, shape, manipulate and exploit it.”
Joseph Grange, 1986 notebook

“All dogs wanted to be good dogs, no matter how unpromising they seemed. You just had to help them find a way. And they were sunshine creatures. When their master opened his eyes in the morning it was their signal that the day had begun, and a day was to be greeted with joy and intense interest. They were a good example….”
Thomas Perry, 2024 notebook

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Corporations As If People Mattered

August 18, 2024

As a young man, I read the economist E.F. Schumacher’s book Small is Beautiful: Economics As If People Mattered with great interest. It seemed like a breath of fresh air in its exploration of “Buddhist economics” based on the idea that people need good work for proper human development.

After World War II and a variety of economic roles for the British government, Schumacher became a consultant in the Far East and travelled to many Third World countries. This helped form his views on what would become the “appropriate technology” movement.

As Wikipedia puts it: “One of his main arguments in Small Is Beautiful is that we cannot consider the problem of technological production solved if it requires that we recklessly erode our finite natural capital and deprive future generations of its benefits.”

A finite planet

In Schumacher’s words: “Anyone who thinks consumption can expand forever on a finite planet is either insane or an economist.”

Small is Beautiful

He questioned insightfully whether bigger is better. We can look today at the large monopolies or near-monopolies around us where the entire focus is on producing monetary results for shareholders. Any other benefit or potential damage is irrelevant. The natural end state of our capitalistic system is not competition, but monopolies and cartels, a kind of dictatorship of the market.

Published in 1973, Small is Beautiful was a seminal work with ripples of influence spreading far. Sadly, it seems to be little referenced these days.

I have no expertise in economics, only a layman’s interest, but the role of the economy and corporations obviously loom large in our society. (For insightful rants on the economic nature of the important tech sector and its failings, especially with AI, read Ed Zitron’s increasingly influential blog, Where’s Your Ed At. In particular, his post on Rot Economics deals with the big picture.)

A while back I reviewed what I thought was an insightful delving from the systems perspective into the nature of the corporation and how it might be improved.

Change resistance

Jack Harich’s paper on “Change Resistance as the Crux of the Environmental Sustainability Problem” wonders why after 50 years of well-intentioned effort, humans have failed to move towards living sustainably on this planet.

The reason he says: “In the environmental sustainability problem the human system has become improperly coupled to the greater system it lives within: the environment.”

Attempts to rectify this have failed due to what Harich terms the missing abstraction, in his systems analysis, of “change resistance.”

When anyone attempts to solve sustainability problems, the system maintains its balance by automatically increasing the barriers to change. It maintains what Harich calls a “high deception effectiveness.”

For sustainability, change resistance needs to be overcome, and proper coupling achieved — that is, linking proper consequences to actions. The real environmental and societal costs need to be borne by corporate economic interests.

Harich’s solutions, including what he calls Corporation 2.0, are laudable but not, to my mind, liable to occur anytime soon. (I won’t go into them here, although they are interesting.)

So with this mélange of economic thought and interest in the back of my mind, I was intrigued to find in the online journal Hakai (which sadly will not be around much longer) an article about dealing with a major problem plaguing the modern corporation: shareholders. They are not the only stakeholders in what a corporation does, but the system encourages all effort towards increasing profits for them no matter if other deleterious consequences.

A new business structure

The article Working with Purpose, Forever: Or, how to keep shareholders from ruining your business, by Maureen O’Hagen outlines a new kind of business structure: a Perpetual Purpose Trust (PPT).

In the example she used, the owner of a large seafood restaurant in Oregon, dedicated to providing a good market for local fishermen and high-quality dining for its customers, wanted to ensure its continuance after she left. The restaurant was known for its community spirit and the owner wanted that to go on.

When the restaurant was sold to a PPT, the purpose of making money didn’t change. “The difference is how the profit is used.” Profit sharing amongst employees became part of the structure.

“Crucially, the trust structure ensures that the restaurant can’t be sold to an entity that’s more focused on sending profits to absentee shareholders than providing income to the local folks whose labor makes the business run.”

A more well known example of a PPT is that of Patagonia, a large outdoors brand in the US. In that case, the owner basically gave the company away to its employees.

Not every employer can be so generous. In the case of the restaurant, the owner wanted and deserved recompense for the years of hard work developing the business.

Alternative ownership models

The crucial transaction of providing that payout fell to an unnamed lender in the article which supports alternative ownership models.

One such is RSF Social Finance, for anyone curious, as I was. On their website they have the example, of Organically Grown Company, a distributor of organic produce. They set up the “Sustainable Food & Agriculture Perpetual Purpose Trust.”

“Unlike a more traditional approach, investors in the trust get the same vote as any other employee, customer, advocacy group member, or farmer on their governing board.”

So there may be hope for the concept of the corporation yet!

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Note: For an additional interesting exploration in economic thought, consider what it would be like if money had an expiry date. Would society and the economy be better off? This idea is featured in an article in the online journal Noema: What If Money Expired?

Halls of Sun, Corridors of Rain

March 1, 2023

Over the years, as a would-be writer, I jotted words into notebooks which I stashed away for decades.

There are freewriting efforts, poetry, observations, quotations and many abortive attempts at stories and novels in there.  Many more than I remember.

Nearing 72, I feel the need to perform archaeology on the life hinted at in those notebooks. They run from the early 1970s until today.  It is difficult to gauge their interest, if any, to others, but I still hope that a stray insight or quote resonates with the occasional reader. 

I only seek to make more sense to myself.

*    *    *

Good title – Halls of Sun, Corridors of Rain. (1986)

*    *    *

To the adequate expression of our truest and deepest feelings.  These are the solid things. (1977)

*    *    *

This is ridiculous.  Here I am a grown man at 26, and with a few words of criticism, I’m about to cry. (1977)

*    *    *

Mad as a bag of cats. (2018)

*    *    *

See people’s characters relative to the deals they attempt to make with the essential emptiness of human life.  The terrifying emptiness.  The fecund emptiness. (1987)

*    *    *

Is this a real thing?  In bug-ridden country, tie dragonflies to shoulders to chase away the bugs.  Catching them must be a trick. (1987)

*    *    *

“Reason – by which I mean the ability to grasp the moral sense, not just the ‘facts’ of reality….” — Erazim Kohak  (1987)

*    *    *

The true sacred life doesn’t lend itself to institutionalization.  (1970s)

*    *    *

The task of culture is to provide the individual with the conviction that he is an object of primary value in a world of meaningful action. (1970s)

*    *    *

So much is expressed by the spirit with which people move their bodies as they walk.  (Early 1980s)

*    *    *

Confucius: “Look closely into a man’s aims, observe the means by which he pursues them, and discover what brings him contentment.  How can a man hide his character?”  Also useful for writing.  (Early 1980s)

*    *    *

Having a notebook and being a ‘writer’ gives you permission to be anywhere, watching anything.  (Late 1980s)

*    *    *

At a café, an older woman eating cake, sipping coffee with a kind of desperation.  Her lower face, when she looks at people talking is mute, stiff; only her eyes show feeling.  She’s slightly buck-toothed, and keeps her mouth closed as if to hide. (Late 1980s)

*    *    *

“Three things are to be considered: a man’s estimation of himself, the face he presents to the world, and the estimate of that man made by other men.  Combined they form an aspect of truth.” — Paul Scott (1980s)

*    *    *

“A reader should want to know the character infinitely.” — Arturo Vivante (1980s)

*    *    *

Colin Turnbull studied the Mbuti in Central Africa and found they don’t have a specific word for ‘god’. “The closest is the word ndura which can be translated as ‘forest’. … Ultimately, ndura does mean the forest, but more than that it means forestness. And this is the quality of life by which they measure everything that is good in their lives. All that is positive is related to ndura, this life-giving quality.” (1984)

*    *    *

“We no longer recognize spiritual pain, the distressed soul, although we suffer from that disease more than any other.” — Michael Shallis (1985)

*    *    *

When my brothers and I were kids, whenever we tasted something good, we wanted to make it into a sandwich.  “Hey, Ma, I want a peach sandwich….” (late 1970s)

*    *    *

Sun sinks low

Cloud shadows ride
      the mountains

Purple and yellow flowers                                        (1988)

 

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Note: To be continued, probably. 

My Book House

April 19, 2021

My Book House, edited by Olive Beaupré Miller, 12 volumes, 1937; For My Book House, A Parents’ Guide Book, 1948.
___________________________________________________

For those of us who are readers, what we read as children is at the core of who we are and the paths we’ve taken.

I have a dim memory of going as a child to second hand bookstores with my father and mother in Washington state searching for books to take with us to the wilds of northern British Columbia.  This was in the early 1960s.  I was 9 or 10 years old.

Their finds included all the volumes of the famed 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica, literature such as Ernest Thompson Seton’s Wild Animals I Have Known, Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, and the 12-volume set of My Book House, by Olive Beaupré Miller, 1937 edition.  It must have been my mother who insisted on completing the set with the 1948 parents’ guide, since the older grouping didn’t have it.

Image

Inside the front cover of Volume 10

Sixty years on, I still have the My Book House volumes.  It is amazing to hold them – the illustrations are so evocative and bittersweet.  A reminder of a completely different time and place.

The volumes are slender blue books, in this fourth edition, numbered 1 to 12. They very roughly correspond to grade levels in their contents, although the first volume is oriented to much younger children, to be read to them.  Miller was an ardent believer in education for the young, and began these books, originally in a six-volume set in the 1920s, when she found that nobody was providing the graded stories, poems and illustrations she thought important for her daughter and other children.  

Books to grow with

The books were meant to “grow” along with their intended audience.  Early volumes contained nursery rhymes and simple stories and later volumes drew upon Chaucer, Shakespeare and Swift among many other classic writings which Miller adapted.  Sometimes, she wrote the stories herself.  Not only were fables, stories and poetry intended to be read by children, but also to be read by parents to them.  And the illustrations!  The illustrations by well known artists including a book cover by N.C. Wyeth do a wonderful job of creating imaginative space for the stories to dwell in. 

ImageMiller set up a company with her husband to publish these books in Winnetka, Illinois and the first one, In The Nursery, was issued in 1920.  The first six-volume sets were often, as a promotion, enclosed in a small wooden house.  The six were eventually split into 12 thinner books for the benefit of small hands.  An interesting aspect of her publishing company was its staffing predominantly by women, including the sales force.  This was most unusual at a time when women were deemed best suited to staying at home.

The last edition was published in 1971.  Miller had continued to revise her books until her retirement in 1962. She died in Arizona in 1968.

A father’s Grand Adventure

Not only do these books connect me to my childhood and the northern log cabin I grew up in, but in an indirect way to my father.  He died of a stroke a couple of years after he moved his wife and three sons to the pioneering life he imagined and hungered for in the north.  He was only in his mid 40s.  He fought in the Second World War in the Pacific, including Iwo Jima, went to university where he met my mother, and dropped out with her to start a family. He worked for years as an architectural draftsman and trouble-shooting machinist, before embarking, his family in tow, on his Grand Adventure.

These books were part of his design for his family (along with serious advice from my mother, without doubt) as he took us to the Bulkley Valley in British Columbia to live on a section of land without electricity, phones or indoor plumbing.  He changed all our lives, and our futures, in a fundamental way and for the better.  We boys were given, on the outside, the gift of wild spaces, and our interiors were furnished by My Book House and all the other books that made the inside of our small cabin seem like a library.  Even my mother, who at first regretted our departure from the States and its amenities, came to love where we made our home.

So these books mean a lot to me.  I’d like to give just a sampling of their content.

Volume 5, Over the Hills, contained stories about Abraham Lincoln, Jack and the Beanstalk, the boyhood of Robert Fulton, and Wilbur and Orville Wright, among others, drawn from many classic sources. 

I think my favorite from this volume though was “Casey Jones, A Song of the Railroad Men.”  It goes: “Fireman says, ‘Casey, you’re running too fast. You ran the block signal, last station you passed.’…”  Then later: “He turned to his fireman said, ‘Boy, you’d better jump. ‘Cause there’s two locomotives that are going to bump!'”

ImageVolume 8, Flying Sails, featured for me “Gulliver’s Travels to Lilliput” adapted from Jonathan Swift.  The accompanying illustrations are marvelous, of Gulliver tied down by many tiny figures.  This volume also included a couple of stories from the Arabian Nights, “The Adventures of General Tom Thumb,” and Shakespeare’s “The Tempest.”

In Volume 10, From the Tower Window, we have the story of the Children’s Crusade, “The Home-Coming of Odysseus,” legends of the Round Table, the Spanish tale of “The Cid” and what moved me, for some reason, as a teenager, the tragic “Song of Roland.” 

ImageIn this last, retold from the Chanson de Roland, Roland heroically blows his horn, Oliphant, at the end of a great battle to call for relief for his men and himself, only to finally die.

In demand for homeschooling

In an interesting twist to the saga of the long out-of-print My Book House, the volumes, in all their many versions, are in demand as part of the homeschooling movement.  The set, as the Parents’ Guide points out, has 2752 pages of graded selections from over fifty different countries with two thousand illustrations, many in full color. They are a valuable resource for any family, homeschooling or not.

Homeschooling as a movement began in the 1970s as a rebellion against the rote regimented learning of the standard classroom, and has spread in many different directions, from the free school perspective to the evangelical.  But to me, My Book House is ideal as an underpinning for any youngster’s education.  I’m grateful that it was part of mine.

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References:

For more information on My Book House, here are some sites of note:

Winnetka Historical Society

Books In Heat: Books As A Passion

Circe Institute

Arthur Chandler

Plumfield and Paideia

TurtleAndRobot.com

Pam Barnhill


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