Self-Portrait 2018

As we've discussed I'm a big believer in modelling assignments in some of my classes (not behavior, certainly, because no one should act like me, but rather how one might attack an assignment).  It's nothing I would do with upper classmen, but I think it can be useful early in the undergraduate experience.  Thus, in my COR 110, Concepts of the Self, class, which students take the first semester at Champlain, I create my own self-portrait.  In the second year I also create my own version of the Velazquez-Picasso project, partially because, as first semester sophomores they're still reasonably new to college, but also because it's a challenging assignment. For the first year students the self-portrait is a requirement, and I think I emphasize it more than any of my worthy colleagues.  This includes starting every day with a brief examination of a different self-portrait from my monstrous self-portrait folder in ArtStor. Every year I start from scratch and create a new self-portrait, which gives the students a template on how one might approach the assignment - although, truthfully, I think they get more from me presenting my self-portrait, which also sets the bar higher for their own presentations.  I always emphasize to the students that they should choose one thing to focus on.  If they tried to tell me everything about their lives in one image  they would, by definition, produce a very surface level work.  Again, modeling the assignment, I choose a different specific thing every year, and I don't always choose something positive.  To me the self-portrait can also be a tool for self-reflection, so choosing a less laudable aspect of your personality is probably useful.  This year I focused on my famous temper. I was interested less in the moment of the explosion, but rather the isolating consequences. Starting with a picture that my most excellent nephew Garrett took of me in the desert outside Liwa in the UAE as my foundation, I ran off a copy and then burned it on my grill - and snapped a couple dozen shots.  Initially I wanted to then take the remnant and lay it down in an actual fire pit and photograph it again in the ashes, emphasizing the expanding aridity.  That said, I actually like how this turned out, so I stopped here.  The students viewed the grill as prison bars, which somehow made it all work all the better.

You can imagine the memes this has already inspired.

The Greatest Bucket List Quest

OK, so it's probably not actually the Greatest Bucket List Quest of all time, or maybe not even my own Personal Bucket List Quest of my time (mainly because I actually never think of the world or my future in that way). As Vermont's Leading CFL Fan (patent pending) I'm always, usually unsuccessfully, trying to drag my friends to ever more games across the border.  Actually, I think I'm finally winning them over (I mean, the Canadian Thanksgiving Alouettes game is a tradition and we do have an annual Grey Cup party). This summer, as recorded on the blog, Kevin Andrews and I attended a Hamilton Tiger-Cats game and had a great time, and that solidified an idea that I've been playing around with for some time: seeing a game in every CFL stadium.  Now, granted, there are only nine, so it's not the same as visiting every minor league baseball field, but it's a unique challenge nonetheless.  OK, two down, Montreal and Hamilton, and seven to go. My goal for next year will be to knock off Ottawa REDBLACKS and Toronto Argonauts, which shouldn't be too difficult, and then I would have covered the entire Eastern Conference. Then things become more complicated.  Maybe in 2020 I could combine Winnipeg Blue Bombers and Saskatchewan Roughriders games; Winnipeg and REgina aren't really that close, although I guess they're close by Canadian standards.  I could fly into one, rent a car, and travel to the other, which is made easier by the unique CFL schedule wherein they routinely play games on Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. That would leave 2021 for a trip to Edmonton Eskimos and Calgary Stampeders games.  Again, I'd fly into one of the cities, rent a car, and make an Alberta road trip.  Of course, I'd probably not tell fans at either game what I'm doing because the teams are bitter enemies. Unless the CFL decides to add a team in Halifax (there's some talk of it), I would then be able to finish the quest in 2022 with a BC Lions game in Vancouver. My girlfriend thinks I should take my impending sabbatical and knock off all nine in one glorious road trip, which is actually a solid idea.  It would potentially make an interesting book about the relationship between Canada and America and I could interview folks along the way.  Of course, to sell this to the sabbatical committee I really should try and publish a couple articles and flesh out the idea for a  book.  Hmmmm.

The map is a little misleading because the icon for the REDBLACKS makes it seems like they're in Quebec, when obviously Ottawa is in Ontario, but you can get a sense of the scale of things.  Not since Ibn Battuta will such an unplanned trip turn out so to be so epic. If the CFL ever actually puts that team in Halifax then I'll get to see even more of Canada.

Saying Goodbye to Richard

Sadly, I've reached the point where my friends are starting to shuffle off this mortal coil.  The last few years have witnessed several of them passing, and as I close in on sixty it's hard to imagine that a year will slip away without someone joining that cold fraternity.  Last weekend I drove over to Fairfield, Maine for my friend and ex-colleague Richard Hunt's funeral.  We had taught together for over a decade at Champlain.  He retired a few years ago and had been in poor health.  His cousin Josh contacted me and asked me if I would speak at the funeral, which was an honor but also daunting (I joked during my talk that I had foolishly confided to Richard that I hate public speaking, and that this was his last joke on me).  As with all funerals we never want to go, but then are happy that we worked up the courage because it is such a communal supportive emotional cleansing.  Plus, in my faith we're required to attend the funeral of other adherents, even if we didn't know them, and in this case I'm more than happy to expand that directive.  In my short talk at the funeral I focused on Richard as a teacher (per Josh's request), but also made the point that he lived his teaching like he lived his faith: practically and organically and intentionally, taking every moment to find the best way to be of service to society.  We should all live lives so rich.

Richard was a man of tremendous faith, and served an important role in his church, the Fairfield Center Methodist Church, as he did when he lived here in Burlington, including often giving the sermons.

A very fitting way to honor Richard, and the one that brought me to tears.

The church itself, on an appropriately overcast day.  This was after I mistakenly went to the Fairfield Methodist Church, where the nice lady there told me that I was at the wrong Methodist church, which meant that I was almost late to a funeral wherein I was speaking. It did allow me to turn it into a gentle joke during my talk, which the good folks in the church thought was funny.  GS: "So, the nice lady at the Fairfield Methodist Church came out and asked me if I was there for Richard's funeral, and when I said yes, she said, 'You're not supposed to be here,' and I then thought, 'Wow, you Methodists are tough.'"

Richard nephew Josh said, during his talk, that Richard's dream was to see the church full, and for one day he got his wish.

The New Wixon Trophy

During the recent trip to Michigan to visit Andy and Heidi and the eminently brilliant Sylvie Rose we went into a wonderful little antique shop in Ann Arbor.  The goal was to finally, as we were ready to kick off the sixth season of the Twin Peaks Football League, create a trophy for the winning team.  We've long had the punishment for the loser: the abhorrent My Little Pony sweater that must be worn, and photographed, in a public place. However, we've never had a first place trophy.  Well, we still don't have a first place trophy, but now we have a second artifact associated with "winning" the Wixon for finishing last: a horrible glass clown which has to sit on the desk of the winner/loser for an entire year, as a constant reminder of their shame. It says a lot about our league that we don't have a trophy for winning, let alone a cash award, but we do have two forms of punishment associated with losing.

If this would not make you purchase at least two fantasy football guides and devote several days to preparation then truthfully nothing would.

Back to India? Haan.

The phrase that has dominated so much of my exchanges - and so much of my personal philosophy - is "there's always another trip."  And it is still true today.  I'm in the midst of the chaos of planning the upcoming Zanzibar trip (and apparently one or two summer trips to Zanzibar - more on that later) and a summer trip to Montenegro (much more on that later as well) but I'm also in the process of finalizing planning and negotiating and haggling for this March's return trip to India.  I brought students to India two years ago, as part of a Ramayana-themed Heroines & Heroes course.  This time I'm running a new COR 330 Dar al-Islam: India course - a version of my Dar al-Islam: Yemen course, but tailored to the Muslim experience in India.  Once again I'm working with the truly excellent Inder Singh from Tiger Paws Adventures, so I know it will be a wonderful trip.  Last trip to Mumbai, Nishak and Ellora and then on to Sri Lanka, but this will be exclusively northern India.  The itinerary is in flux, as it always is at this point, but it's shaping up to be a great trip.

A picture I snapped at the Jama Masjid, the oldest mosque in Delhi, which will be prominently featured on the proposed itinerary.

Where Are They Registered?

I was attempting to clean up the desktop on my computer when I found this picture, which I had obviously saved there for just this occasion (and, of course, forgot about it). Obviously, it was snapped during last March's extraordinary trip to Jordan.  Our guide and friend Mahmoud was showing us around Petra - and in the process sharing more information than any guide I ever had on my previous seven trips down the Siq - and he pointed out a little corner which some scholars think was used by the Nabaeteans for wedding.  Here he is demonstrating with the help of my students Ines and Liza, who are clearly having way too much fun. The plan is to head back for a Thanksgiving trip in the fall of 2020 (and if we don't Ines and Liza and about fifteen other students are going to kill me).  Truthfully, I don't know if I can wait that long to get back to Jordan, the place I love the most.

I suspect that Ines and Liza's dream is that somehow the mock wedding ceremony was unintentionally/intentionally valid; they'd both happily be living with Mahmoud in the Wadi Rum . . .

Discography Year Two - Week 52

And so we've reached the end of the Discography.  I want to thank everyone who participated over our two year run, whether it was writing or listening or responding.  I've gone to the trouble of including Gary Beatrice's last post from year one because it pained me to think that he wouldn't be here with us at the end.

Thank you, as always, for being my friends, and I am honored and humbled to know you - and, as Robert Graves opined, good-bye to all that.

OK, so I shamelessly swiped this off of Margie's Facebook page, but I'm sure she won't mind.  Here's the family saying goodbye to GB. For those of you who didn't know him, you missed a rare and gentle soul.

Gary Beatrice

Warren Zevon, Keep Me In Your Heart

My mother is a fantastic artist. When I was in my late teens she took up painting and she was outstanding. All of the Beatrice homes have her paintings. About 30 years ago she took up sculpture, and without any doubt that was her calling. She used all type of wood and stone and would frequently spend upwards of six months on a single piece. She sold a few, was commissioned to make more, and won sculpture competitions from New York to Phoenix.

Sadly I did not inherit her artistic skills. If I had I would have used them to write a song. I would have written a beautiful good-bye song to my wife, Margie. It would not have been a sad song, although death and separation are certainly sad. The song would be about love and friendship and be gently hopeful.

Since I can't write or sing a song I am steeling Warren Zevon's good-bye song and dedicating it to my wife and children:

Hold me in your thoughts
Take me in your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view.
When the winter comes
Keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you.

Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile.
You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for a while.

Dave Wallace

Dobie Gray - Drift Away 

I was trying to find the right song to say sayonara to Year Two of this song blog, and I realized that I'd already chosen it back in Year One, Week Fourteen.  So I'm picking it again.  Drift Away by the great Dobie Gray perfectly captures my feelings about music and its power to heal us and take us away from our daily troubles.  I wish everyone happy travels as you continue to drift away on your own musical journeys.

Dave Kelley

"God's Gonna Cut You"    Johnny Cash

The dark specter of Trump's dystopian America has haunted much of the blog, and continues to do so for me.  One of the many things that has been made clear is the hypocrisy and moral midgetry of the religious right.  They despise someone as fundamentally decent as Obama and worship at the feet of someone as despicable and devoid of virtue as Trump.  If Jesus ever does return, those fuckers better have somewhere to hide.  Preach Johnny! 

Kathy Seiler

Emile Sande, "Where I Sleep" 

I know I've been absent from Discography for quite a while, but thought I'd put in a final post to end the year. I'm not sure I ever really recovered from the events of earlier in the year and now that we are back on campus I know it will be just another set of challenges, joys and sorrows, as I begin what feels like the New Year to me.

One of the changes in our life this past year was selling our house and moving into a far too small apartment. It was fun for a bit, but it's made me realize a lot about what I'm ready for and what I'm not ready for... and I'm not quite ready for year round living in a small apartment. I thankfully traveled a lot this summer and have quite a bit of travel in my future, which I'm hoping will help with the waiting until we find our next home. Patience is not my strong point.

In all of these events, this song has been an anchor for me, and a valuable reminder. The reminder is that I am home wherever I am if I have love around me. It reminds me of all that I have and how lucky I am to be anywhere so full of love from my husband, my kids, and my most incredible friends. It also reminds me when I'm away from them that I can still hold on to their love even when I'm away. 

So for everyone who might not be exactly in the place or space they want to be, give this song a listen. Maybe it will speak to you as it did to me.

Phil Seiler

Patty Gurdy

"The Longing"

This wasn't what I intended to write about this final week but life has its twists and turns and at the last moment I was delivered this gem of a performer. I had no idea I needed more hurdy gurdy music in my life but I totally did. One of my favorite things about this song, and Patty herself, is the wonderful amalgam of her accent. She's German but learned English young, spent some time growing up in Scotland and England, and admits to watching too much American YouTube videos. Beauty and joy comes from the unexpected melding of many things. A lesson for our time. (And if you want more evidence of that I recommend watching the original version of this song by her Folk Metal band Storm Seeker. 

Rock on, good people.

Gary Scudder

Lucinda Williams, World Without Tears
Nicole Atkins, A Dream Without Pain

I'm closing out the Discography with two songs that seem to go together, the first from Lucinda Williams, a singer who has been a mainstay on my playlist for twenty years, and the second, from Nicole Atkins, an artist I only discovered this year.  The two songs seem to go together, at least in my addled mind.  I always wanted to have a theme week based on two songs which we think belong together, even if they're not connected in any way. About the only connection between these two would be, arguably, that they fall into the alt-country category, although Atkins really only ended up in that neighborhood once she moved to Nashville and released her latest album, Goodnight Rhonda Lee (from which A Dream Without Pain is drawn). Lucinda's World Without Tears is from the album of the same name.  Yes, I know it borders on sacrilege, but I've long proposed that World Without Tears is her best album.  Beyond that, the obvious connection is that they are both heartbreaking appeals for a better world, and what better to having playing as we close out the American century in the Trumpian end times.