My brother has decided that he wants Josh and me to come to Denver over Memorial Day weekend.
He told us that he will take us to see the new wing at the Denver Art Museum, designed by Daniel Libeskind, which opened late last year. He also told us that he will take us to the Air And Space Museum, which has several World War II-era bombers, and that he will take us to the Air Force Academy, with its breathtaking cadet chapel.
That sounds good to us.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Receipts Must Be Available For Our Inspection
Joshua and I had dinner at my parents' house tonight, and we are all trying to decide what to do over the Memorial Day weekend.
For my parents, that decision is an easy one: they are going to New York to visit with their grandson that weekend.
My middle brother and Josh and I cannot decide whether to join them in New York, or whether Josh and I should go to Denver and visit with my brother that weekend.
We talked to both of my brothers tonight, and my middle brother, who has the farthest to travel if we all gather in New York, is going to make the decision, and the decision he makes for himself will also be the decision for Josh and me, too. He is going to sleep on it tonight, and decide tomorrow whether he wants to go to New York (in which case Josh and I will go to New York, too) or whether he wants Josh and me to come to Denver for a visit. Josh and I will go along, happily, with whatever he wants.
To help us make a decision, we were all discussing whether there are any performances in New York that we might want to attend and, upon close examination, we found that the theater offerings in New York are positively depressing. My parents and Josh might enjoy "Journey's End", but my middle brother and I saw the same production of "Journey's End" with a different cast in London two years ago, and we do not want to see that play again. It is a period piece, and not a particularly strong one. My sister-in-law hates that play--she had to read it in school, since it is part of the British school curriculum--and she volunteered that she could only be persuaded to join my parents and Josh at a performance of "Journey's End" if she were paid $500.00 an hour, starting at the time she left the apartment and ending at the time she returned. My father said that he would get back to her on that particular point.
The only other theater offerings that any of us could even sit through, we estimate, are two musicals, "The Drowsy Chaperone" and "Grey Gardens", the latter a show that people either seem to love or to detest, with little or no middle ground. Myself, I would be happy to skip both, and so would Josh. Neither of us is a big fan of musical theater unless a full orchestra is used and unless the singers are unamplified.
New York City Ballet will be performing that weekend, with performances on Saturday afternoon, Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon. The company will be presenting three different programs that weekend, and Josh and I would like to attend all three of the programs very much, if that were possible. However, it is not feasible for Josh and me to expect to spend most of our weekend at the New York State Theater.
My sister-in-law loves to attend City Ballet, and I know she would want to come with us, and my mother could easily be persuaded to attend one ballet performance. In the case of my father, he could be persuaded to attend the all-Balanchine program on Saturday night, because he loves Balanchine.
However, neither of my brothers has much of an affection for classical ballet, and for the rest of us to go to the ballet would leave my brothers out of the loop.
Aside from New York City Ballet, there are really not any New York performances worth going out of one's way to attend over Memorial Day weekend. Consequently, Josh and I will be perfectly happy to go along with my brother's decision, whatever it may be.
Tonight, my parents were having a discussion they seem to have each and every year: whether to attend this year's Shaw Festival in Canada. They have never attended the festival, not even once, and yet they ordered the festival brochure again this year, which they always seem to do. I am surprised that the people in Canada even keep responding to my parents' request for a brochure, given how many times my parents have ordered the brochure, but not purchased any tickets.
There are a lot of good plays on the bill this year, as there always are. My parents would be happy to attend performances of Shaw's "Saint Joan" and Somerset Maugham's "The Circle" and Tennessee Williams' "Summer And Smoke" and Brian Friel's adaptation of Turgenev's "A Month In The Country". They also would not mind seeing the Jerry Herman musical, "Mack And Mabel".
My parents wanted to know whether my middle brother and Josh and I wanted to join them for a trip to Niagara. They even suggested that we make a stop at Canada's Stratford Festival, too, and catch performances of Oscar Wilde's "An Ideal Husband" and Edward Albee's "A Delicate Balance". (My parents have been ordering brochures from the Stratford Festival for years and years, too.)
My brother and Josh and I explained to my parents that it would be difficult for us to schedule a trip to Canada this summer, because we were all saving our vacation time for a trip to Europe in September. My parents' response was "Oh, we weren't going to go to Canada until September, anyway--we were going to wait until the summer crowds thinned out. Why don't you come with us in September to Canada, instead?"
Of course, it was very hard for my brother and me to take our parents' Canada plans seriously, given how many times we have listened, over the years, to them talk about going to one or both of the Canadian theater festivals. We told our parents to let us know if they made firm plans, and to have their credit card receipts available for our inspection, because we would require firm evidence before we believed that any such trip would occur.
I do not believe that Josh and I will need to pencil in any tentative Canada trips on our calendar.
For my parents, that decision is an easy one: they are going to New York to visit with their grandson that weekend.
My middle brother and Josh and I cannot decide whether to join them in New York, or whether Josh and I should go to Denver and visit with my brother that weekend.
We talked to both of my brothers tonight, and my middle brother, who has the farthest to travel if we all gather in New York, is going to make the decision, and the decision he makes for himself will also be the decision for Josh and me, too. He is going to sleep on it tonight, and decide tomorrow whether he wants to go to New York (in which case Josh and I will go to New York, too) or whether he wants Josh and me to come to Denver for a visit. Josh and I will go along, happily, with whatever he wants.
To help us make a decision, we were all discussing whether there are any performances in New York that we might want to attend and, upon close examination, we found that the theater offerings in New York are positively depressing. My parents and Josh might enjoy "Journey's End", but my middle brother and I saw the same production of "Journey's End" with a different cast in London two years ago, and we do not want to see that play again. It is a period piece, and not a particularly strong one. My sister-in-law hates that play--she had to read it in school, since it is part of the British school curriculum--and she volunteered that she could only be persuaded to join my parents and Josh at a performance of "Journey's End" if she were paid $500.00 an hour, starting at the time she left the apartment and ending at the time she returned. My father said that he would get back to her on that particular point.
The only other theater offerings that any of us could even sit through, we estimate, are two musicals, "The Drowsy Chaperone" and "Grey Gardens", the latter a show that people either seem to love or to detest, with little or no middle ground. Myself, I would be happy to skip both, and so would Josh. Neither of us is a big fan of musical theater unless a full orchestra is used and unless the singers are unamplified.
New York City Ballet will be performing that weekend, with performances on Saturday afternoon, Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon. The company will be presenting three different programs that weekend, and Josh and I would like to attend all three of the programs very much, if that were possible. However, it is not feasible for Josh and me to expect to spend most of our weekend at the New York State Theater.
My sister-in-law loves to attend City Ballet, and I know she would want to come with us, and my mother could easily be persuaded to attend one ballet performance. In the case of my father, he could be persuaded to attend the all-Balanchine program on Saturday night, because he loves Balanchine.
However, neither of my brothers has much of an affection for classical ballet, and for the rest of us to go to the ballet would leave my brothers out of the loop.
Aside from New York City Ballet, there are really not any New York performances worth going out of one's way to attend over Memorial Day weekend. Consequently, Josh and I will be perfectly happy to go along with my brother's decision, whatever it may be.
Tonight, my parents were having a discussion they seem to have each and every year: whether to attend this year's Shaw Festival in Canada. They have never attended the festival, not even once, and yet they ordered the festival brochure again this year, which they always seem to do. I am surprised that the people in Canada even keep responding to my parents' request for a brochure, given how many times my parents have ordered the brochure, but not purchased any tickets.
There are a lot of good plays on the bill this year, as there always are. My parents would be happy to attend performances of Shaw's "Saint Joan" and Somerset Maugham's "The Circle" and Tennessee Williams' "Summer And Smoke" and Brian Friel's adaptation of Turgenev's "A Month In The Country". They also would not mind seeing the Jerry Herman musical, "Mack And Mabel".
My parents wanted to know whether my middle brother and Josh and I wanted to join them for a trip to Niagara. They even suggested that we make a stop at Canada's Stratford Festival, too, and catch performances of Oscar Wilde's "An Ideal Husband" and Edward Albee's "A Delicate Balance". (My parents have been ordering brochures from the Stratford Festival for years and years, too.)
My brother and Josh and I explained to my parents that it would be difficult for us to schedule a trip to Canada this summer, because we were all saving our vacation time for a trip to Europe in September. My parents' response was "Oh, we weren't going to go to Canada until September, anyway--we were going to wait until the summer crowds thinned out. Why don't you come with us in September to Canada, instead?"
Of course, it was very hard for my brother and me to take our parents' Canada plans seriously, given how many times we have listened, over the years, to them talk about going to one or both of the Canadian theater festivals. We told our parents to let us know if they made firm plans, and to have their credit card receipts available for our inspection, because we would require firm evidence before we believed that any such trip would occur.
I do not believe that Josh and I will need to pencil in any tentative Canada trips on our calendar.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Kind And Decent And Good
Happily, Joshua likes the Twin Cities very, very much. He says that Minneapolis is the best place he has ever lived.
Of course, that may not signify all that much, because Josh has only lived in Oklahoma, Washington, D.C., and the Twin Cities. And yet, I--prejudiced in favor of the Twin Cities, as I no doubt am--agree with him heartily: the Twin Cities is a wonderful place to live, surely one of the best places in the world.
I think that this is so for two reasons: first, Minneapolis has all of the advantages of a large city, in terms of colleges and universities, and cultural organizations, and employment opportunities, and sports franchises, and other such things; and, second, the people of Minneapolis are extremely kind and decent and good, free of the narcissism that infects the large cities of the East and West Coasts.
The citizenry of the Twin Cities is prosperous, highly-educated and civic-minded. The citizenry believes in the traditional public virtues, is more or less free of the various dogmas of the day, and is, on the whole, quite laid-back. That is a nice combination, and it helps to make the city friendly and civilized and welcoming and liveable. I am not sure that I can say the same thing about any other city, except perhaps Munich.
Of course, Josh and I do not live IN the city; we live in a nearby suburb. And yet the city is there, available to us whenever we want to take advantage of it. And when we do NOT want to take advantage of it, we live in the equivalent of a small town, where we know everyone in the immediate vicinity, and where everyone knows us, and where things are quiet and peaceful and safe and secure, if not outright idyllic. We have the best of all possible worlds, I think.
If we HAD to move elsewhere, I doubt that we could find a better place, at least for our needs. Neither of us was at home on the Eastern Seaboard, and I doubt that either of us would feel at home on the West Coast. Neither of us likes the Southeast United States, with its appallingly ignorant populace. The large Texas cities of Dallas and Houston might have many parallels with the Twin Cities, but I doubt that they are superior to Minneapolis. Consequently, my hope is that we stay in the Twin Cities for a while, if not forever.
Josh seems to be fine with that idea, and he is thinking about the University Of Minnesota for graduate school, and nowhere else, at least for now.
And I have to acknowledge that it would be very, very hard for me to leave my parents again--being away for seven years was hard enough for me, and I would not want to have to go through that again. I love my parents, and I like being near them, and I like spending time with them, and I like helping them, and I like taking care of them in any way I can.
I am the youngest child, and I am the one who will have to be there to look out for them as they grow older, since my brothers will have their own families to care for. And I look forward to that role, and I cannot perform it if Josh and I are living in Hong Kong or London or Vancouver.
Of course, that may not signify all that much, because Josh has only lived in Oklahoma, Washington, D.C., and the Twin Cities. And yet, I--prejudiced in favor of the Twin Cities, as I no doubt am--agree with him heartily: the Twin Cities is a wonderful place to live, surely one of the best places in the world.
I think that this is so for two reasons: first, Minneapolis has all of the advantages of a large city, in terms of colleges and universities, and cultural organizations, and employment opportunities, and sports franchises, and other such things; and, second, the people of Minneapolis are extremely kind and decent and good, free of the narcissism that infects the large cities of the East and West Coasts.
The citizenry of the Twin Cities is prosperous, highly-educated and civic-minded. The citizenry believes in the traditional public virtues, is more or less free of the various dogmas of the day, and is, on the whole, quite laid-back. That is a nice combination, and it helps to make the city friendly and civilized and welcoming and liveable. I am not sure that I can say the same thing about any other city, except perhaps Munich.
Of course, Josh and I do not live IN the city; we live in a nearby suburb. And yet the city is there, available to us whenever we want to take advantage of it. And when we do NOT want to take advantage of it, we live in the equivalent of a small town, where we know everyone in the immediate vicinity, and where everyone knows us, and where things are quiet and peaceful and safe and secure, if not outright idyllic. We have the best of all possible worlds, I think.
If we HAD to move elsewhere, I doubt that we could find a better place, at least for our needs. Neither of us was at home on the Eastern Seaboard, and I doubt that either of us would feel at home on the West Coast. Neither of us likes the Southeast United States, with its appallingly ignorant populace. The large Texas cities of Dallas and Houston might have many parallels with the Twin Cities, but I doubt that they are superior to Minneapolis. Consequently, my hope is that we stay in the Twin Cities for a while, if not forever.
Josh seems to be fine with that idea, and he is thinking about the University Of Minnesota for graduate school, and nowhere else, at least for now.
And I have to acknowledge that it would be very, very hard for me to leave my parents again--being away for seven years was hard enough for me, and I would not want to have to go through that again. I love my parents, and I like being near them, and I like spending time with them, and I like helping them, and I like taking care of them in any way I can.
I am the youngest child, and I am the one who will have to be there to look out for them as they grow older, since my brothers will have their own families to care for. And I look forward to that role, and I cannot perform it if Josh and I are living in Hong Kong or London or Vancouver.
Time For Reflection
Being responsible for another person is a great thing.
I am responsible for Joshua because he moved to Minneapolis to be with me. He has no family in Minneapolis, except that my family has now become his family, too. He had no friends in Minneapolis before he moved here, although he now has made friends with people at church and at the bookstore where he works.
Josh's career plans are on hold, for now. He gave up law school to move to Minneapolis, which did not please his father. Josh might still enroll in law school, but he is more likely to enroll in graduate school, because Josh truly wants to be an historian, not a lawyer. However, Josh has no genuine interest in teaching--his interests are in research and writing.
Josh has decided not to pursue graduate school until the 2008-2009 school term. He still wants to settle into Minneapolis before deciding what he wants to do long-term, and he has decided that two years is the right amount of time for him to sit back and reflect and decide what he wants to do.
The job in the bookstore is only part-time, and it only pays enough for Josh to make his IRA contribution and little else, but it gets him out of the apartment each day, and it enables him to keep up with the publishing field, and it allows him to keep abreast of new books of note. It provides him with a low-pressure job and something to do while he ponders longer-term plans.
I think that it is good that Josh has this time for reflection, and that this time be free of all stress. Josh has had difficulties in life that no young person needs, and a period of no-pressure contemplation is precisely the right antidote, I believe. He is free to pursue his own plans on his own schedule, free from financial worries and without artificial time constraints.
Josh gets the intellectual stimulation he needs--we read, seriously, all the time, and that is the stimulation Josh loves most of all, but we also go out and do interesting things whenever possible--and he gets friendship, and companionship, and love and affection, and emotional support, and the constance of a kindred spirit. I think he has what he needs, right now, and I think he will always get what he needs, in the future.
I have noticed, in the last year, that Josh is no longer as moody as he was when I first met him. He is happy now, and content.
I know this because I can see it in his eyes.
I am responsible for Joshua because he moved to Minneapolis to be with me. He has no family in Minneapolis, except that my family has now become his family, too. He had no friends in Minneapolis before he moved here, although he now has made friends with people at church and at the bookstore where he works.
Josh's career plans are on hold, for now. He gave up law school to move to Minneapolis, which did not please his father. Josh might still enroll in law school, but he is more likely to enroll in graduate school, because Josh truly wants to be an historian, not a lawyer. However, Josh has no genuine interest in teaching--his interests are in research and writing.
Josh has decided not to pursue graduate school until the 2008-2009 school term. He still wants to settle into Minneapolis before deciding what he wants to do long-term, and he has decided that two years is the right amount of time for him to sit back and reflect and decide what he wants to do.
The job in the bookstore is only part-time, and it only pays enough for Josh to make his IRA contribution and little else, but it gets him out of the apartment each day, and it enables him to keep up with the publishing field, and it allows him to keep abreast of new books of note. It provides him with a low-pressure job and something to do while he ponders longer-term plans.
I think that it is good that Josh has this time for reflection, and that this time be free of all stress. Josh has had difficulties in life that no young person needs, and a period of no-pressure contemplation is precisely the right antidote, I believe. He is free to pursue his own plans on his own schedule, free from financial worries and without artificial time constraints.
Josh gets the intellectual stimulation he needs--we read, seriously, all the time, and that is the stimulation Josh loves most of all, but we also go out and do interesting things whenever possible--and he gets friendship, and companionship, and love and affection, and emotional support, and the constance of a kindred spirit. I think he has what he needs, right now, and I think he will always get what he needs, in the future.
I have noticed, in the last year, that Josh is no longer as moody as he was when I first met him. He is happy now, and content.
I know this because I can see it in his eyes.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
A Quiet Retreat
Joshua and I have returned from the lake.
We left while there was still an hour of light remaining, so that we would be on a four-lane highway once darkness set in.
Josh and I really did not do much this weekend--we swam, and we walked through the woods, but otherwise we just enjoyed the peace and quiet. We took our own food with us, and we grilled chicken outside last evening, but otherwise we ate in the house.
Unlike many families, our family has never used the lake for boating or fishing. The lake has served our family as a quiet retreat, and nothing more.
When my brothers and I were kids, we would go up to the lake three-out-of-four weekends in the summer months. Our first summer weekend at the lake would always be Memorial Day weekend, and our final summer weekend at the lake would always be Labor Day weekend. In addition, we would always spend one entire week at the lake to coincide with July 4.
We always had a lot of fun. We would go swimming, and play badminton, and play volleyball, and play croquet, and play basketball, and play soccer. We always played basketball after dinner, and we would still be playing long after the sun had set. Only when our parents called us in for the night did we finally stop playing.
Of course, there being an odd number of us, my brothers and I always had to devise our own sets of rules for all games we played, creating special rules applicable for three players. Sometimes we had trouble settling on what constituted fair play, but ultimately we always worked everything out.
My parents never used the lake house except during the summer months, when school was out for the year. The house was never opened until the end of May, and it was always shuttered for the winter in early September.
Some families used their lake properties on a more frequent basis than we did. They would spend time there during the autumn and spring months, too, and even, on occasion, in the winter. One family, a retired couple, even uses their lake house as a primary residence now.
Our family, however, has used the lake house less and less in the past few years. After my oldest brother completed his schooling, and started working, and stopped coming home for the summer, we stopped going to the lake most summer weekends. When my middle brother completed his schooling, and started working, and stopped coming home for the summer, we spent weekends at the lake even more infrequently.
Last summer, we used the lake house very little. Josh and I did not come to Minneapolis until June, and he and I had to settle in, and we had our apartment to get ready, and I had to prepare for the bar exam, and it just seemed that we did not have enough time to go up to the lake most weekends last year. We DID spend a week at the lake last year over July 4, because my brothers and my oldest brother's family were home for a visit, but that was the only meaningful time we spent there last year.
We all plan to get together and do the same thing this year during the week coinciding with July 4, but I am not sure how often Josh and I, or my parents, will go up to the lake this summer. I am not certain that we will even spend Memorial Day weekend at the lake this year, since my parents are talking about going to New York to visit with their grandson that weekend, and since Josh and I are talking about going to Denver to visit with my middle brother that weekend.
In any case, the house is ready. Josh and I removed the sheets from the furniture, and vacuumed everything, and cleaned the kitchen, so anyone can visit at any time without any additional preparation.
Perhaps Josh and I will take my parents up to the lake to spend one weekend there prior to Memorial Day. I think they might like that.
We left while there was still an hour of light remaining, so that we would be on a four-lane highway once darkness set in.
Josh and I really did not do much this weekend--we swam, and we walked through the woods, but otherwise we just enjoyed the peace and quiet. We took our own food with us, and we grilled chicken outside last evening, but otherwise we ate in the house.
Unlike many families, our family has never used the lake for boating or fishing. The lake has served our family as a quiet retreat, and nothing more.
When my brothers and I were kids, we would go up to the lake three-out-of-four weekends in the summer months. Our first summer weekend at the lake would always be Memorial Day weekend, and our final summer weekend at the lake would always be Labor Day weekend. In addition, we would always spend one entire week at the lake to coincide with July 4.
We always had a lot of fun. We would go swimming, and play badminton, and play volleyball, and play croquet, and play basketball, and play soccer. We always played basketball after dinner, and we would still be playing long after the sun had set. Only when our parents called us in for the night did we finally stop playing.
Of course, there being an odd number of us, my brothers and I always had to devise our own sets of rules for all games we played, creating special rules applicable for three players. Sometimes we had trouble settling on what constituted fair play, but ultimately we always worked everything out.
My parents never used the lake house except during the summer months, when school was out for the year. The house was never opened until the end of May, and it was always shuttered for the winter in early September.
Some families used their lake properties on a more frequent basis than we did. They would spend time there during the autumn and spring months, too, and even, on occasion, in the winter. One family, a retired couple, even uses their lake house as a primary residence now.
Our family, however, has used the lake house less and less in the past few years. After my oldest brother completed his schooling, and started working, and stopped coming home for the summer, we stopped going to the lake most summer weekends. When my middle brother completed his schooling, and started working, and stopped coming home for the summer, we spent weekends at the lake even more infrequently.
Last summer, we used the lake house very little. Josh and I did not come to Minneapolis until June, and he and I had to settle in, and we had our apartment to get ready, and I had to prepare for the bar exam, and it just seemed that we did not have enough time to go up to the lake most weekends last year. We DID spend a week at the lake last year over July 4, because my brothers and my oldest brother's family were home for a visit, but that was the only meaningful time we spent there last year.
We all plan to get together and do the same thing this year during the week coinciding with July 4, but I am not sure how often Josh and I, or my parents, will go up to the lake this summer. I am not certain that we will even spend Memorial Day weekend at the lake this year, since my parents are talking about going to New York to visit with their grandson that weekend, and since Josh and I are talking about going to Denver to visit with my middle brother that weekend.
In any case, the house is ready. Josh and I removed the sheets from the furniture, and vacuumed everything, and cleaned the kitchen, so anyone can visit at any time without any additional preparation.
Perhaps Josh and I will take my parents up to the lake to spend one weekend there prior to Memorial Day. I think they might like that.
Friday, May 04, 2007
First Time This Year
Joshua and I are going to go up to the lake this weekend. It will be the first time this year for us.
We will leave tonight, but not until 8:00 p.m. or so. We will take my parents' dog with us, because he loves going up there. My parents are staying in town, because they have a Minnesota Orchestra concert to attend as well as a Minnesota Opera performance of "The Marriage Of Figaro".
Josh and I do not plan to do much except enjoy the quiet. We will swim, and go walking through the woods with the dog, but otherwise we just plan to relax.
We will leave tonight, but not until 8:00 p.m. or so. We will take my parents' dog with us, because he loves going up there. My parents are staying in town, because they have a Minnesota Orchestra concert to attend as well as a Minnesota Opera performance of "The Marriage Of Figaro".
Josh and I do not plan to do much except enjoy the quiet. We will swim, and go walking through the woods with the dog, but otherwise we just plan to relax.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
France And The French
Many historians have pointed out that Germany should have been permitted to win World War I, because the end result would have been no different than the Western Europe of today: a loose confederation of states under the economic domination of Germany, Central Europe's largest--and only--power.
A victorious Germany in World War I would have had the incidental benefits--and quite significant those incidental benefits would have been, too--of no period of National Socialism and no World War II. Further, although it lost both world wars, Germany eventually--and inevitably, or so some would say--won the peace that came afterward, and the long-term losers of the world wars clearly turned out to be Britain and France, both of which had a hand in the first victory but only one of which had a hand in the second.
These thoughts have been in my mind as Joshua and I have been reading Rod Kedward's "France And The French: A Modern History", published in February of last year. (In Britain, the title is "France And The French: La Vie En Bleu Since 1900".)
The Twentieth Century was a very bad century for France. In 1900, France and its colonies occupied 10% of the land on the globe, its economy was one of the world's four largest, its standard of living was exceeded only by the United States, and it was one of only three genuine global powers.
By 2000, France's colonial period had long since ended, its economy retained no global significance whatsoever, its standard of living had declined to the point where Portugal and Spain were its peers, and its sole pretense to world power was fighting to retain its place on the United Nations Security Council.
What happened?
Well, a lot happened, and that is the story that Kedward attempts to tell in "France And the French". However, I do not think that Kedward tells the story particularly well, and Kedward's deficiency is in failing to address the economic choices--wrong economic choices, over and over--that France made throughout the Twentieth Century.
Failed policies in taxes, tariffs and trade are the true story of France's grim journey through the Twentieth Century, but Kedward seems uninterested in the minutiae of policies and economics, and the implications thereof. Instead, he focuses on the French "character" and he informs the reader, over and over, in a myriad of ways, that "the French are different".
Kedward is a British writer who wrote his book for a British publisher, but I doubt that British readers--let alone American or Canadian or Australian readers--need 736 pages to be told that the French are "different". Most readers, I believe, have long since gathered this fact on their own.
Kedward divides the history of Twentieth-Century France into three distinct periods: World War I and its aftermath; the Occupation and the Gaullist years; and the events of 1968--a revolution in all but name--and the aftermath of 1968, which carries France to the Century's close.
Joshua and I have completed the first two-thirds of the book, and we are eager to proceed to Kedward's analysis of the post-1968 years, which reviewers have deemed to be much the strongest part of his book.
The first two-thirds of the book have some pronounced strengths and some pronounced weaknesses. Kedward's treatment of World War I lacks new insights, and his discussion of the near-endless series of political and economic crises that France endured in the 1920's and 1930's is unsatisfactory. On the other hand, his chapters on the Occupation seem spot-on, and he is unafraid to declare the concept of the "Resistance" the fiction that it largely was.
It wll be interesting to see whether Kedward continues to ignore economic analysis in the final third of his book. France's economic failings between 1968 and 2000 constitute the overwhelming event during those three decades. In 1968, the per-capita income of France was 50% higher than the per-capita income of Britain. By 2000, the per-capita income in both nations was equal--and yet both were sorely behind comparable income figures in the United States, Japan, Germany and the Scandinavian countries. Since 2000, that gap has only widened.
How the mighty have fallen! Is it any wonder that Sarkozy has made the lingering effects of 1968 a recurring theme of his current presidential campaign?
While reading "France And The French", I could not help but recall one of Rudolf Bing's bon mots. During that same fateful year of 1968, the Metropolitan Opera traveled to Paris for a series of performances, and was received with chilly reviews by the Parisian press. Addressing one Paris newspaper's adverse comments about American soprano Roberta Peters, Bing said "Miss Peters may have had a bad night, but the Paris Opera has had a bad century."
France, too, has had a bad century, and economic and demographic and political studies suggest that the 21st Century will be even worse for France.
Already, France has ten million fewer inhabitants than Iran--and, with a current birth rate of 1.15 and falling, France's population is expected to be cut in half over the next thirty years. The economies of Korea and Taiwan and Brazil and Poland will surpass the economy of France in the next decade or sooner. In fifty years, France will be a dedicated third-world country (although one of my best friends, who studied art history in Paris for one year in 2004, already calls Paris "a third-world city with a great subway system").
And all of this has happened because of taxes, tariffs and trade. Does anyone--even Sarkozy--get it?
A victorious Germany in World War I would have had the incidental benefits--and quite significant those incidental benefits would have been, too--of no period of National Socialism and no World War II. Further, although it lost both world wars, Germany eventually--and inevitably, or so some would say--won the peace that came afterward, and the long-term losers of the world wars clearly turned out to be Britain and France, both of which had a hand in the first victory but only one of which had a hand in the second.
These thoughts have been in my mind as Joshua and I have been reading Rod Kedward's "France And The French: A Modern History", published in February of last year. (In Britain, the title is "France And The French: La Vie En Bleu Since 1900".)
The Twentieth Century was a very bad century for France. In 1900, France and its colonies occupied 10% of the land on the globe, its economy was one of the world's four largest, its standard of living was exceeded only by the United States, and it was one of only three genuine global powers.
By 2000, France's colonial period had long since ended, its economy retained no global significance whatsoever, its standard of living had declined to the point where Portugal and Spain were its peers, and its sole pretense to world power was fighting to retain its place on the United Nations Security Council.
What happened?
Well, a lot happened, and that is the story that Kedward attempts to tell in "France And the French". However, I do not think that Kedward tells the story particularly well, and Kedward's deficiency is in failing to address the economic choices--wrong economic choices, over and over--that France made throughout the Twentieth Century.
Failed policies in taxes, tariffs and trade are the true story of France's grim journey through the Twentieth Century, but Kedward seems uninterested in the minutiae of policies and economics, and the implications thereof. Instead, he focuses on the French "character" and he informs the reader, over and over, in a myriad of ways, that "the French are different".
Kedward is a British writer who wrote his book for a British publisher, but I doubt that British readers--let alone American or Canadian or Australian readers--need 736 pages to be told that the French are "different". Most readers, I believe, have long since gathered this fact on their own.
Kedward divides the history of Twentieth-Century France into three distinct periods: World War I and its aftermath; the Occupation and the Gaullist years; and the events of 1968--a revolution in all but name--and the aftermath of 1968, which carries France to the Century's close.
Joshua and I have completed the first two-thirds of the book, and we are eager to proceed to Kedward's analysis of the post-1968 years, which reviewers have deemed to be much the strongest part of his book.
The first two-thirds of the book have some pronounced strengths and some pronounced weaknesses. Kedward's treatment of World War I lacks new insights, and his discussion of the near-endless series of political and economic crises that France endured in the 1920's and 1930's is unsatisfactory. On the other hand, his chapters on the Occupation seem spot-on, and he is unafraid to declare the concept of the "Resistance" the fiction that it largely was.
It wll be interesting to see whether Kedward continues to ignore economic analysis in the final third of his book. France's economic failings between 1968 and 2000 constitute the overwhelming event during those three decades. In 1968, the per-capita income of France was 50% higher than the per-capita income of Britain. By 2000, the per-capita income in both nations was equal--and yet both were sorely behind comparable income figures in the United States, Japan, Germany and the Scandinavian countries. Since 2000, that gap has only widened.
How the mighty have fallen! Is it any wonder that Sarkozy has made the lingering effects of 1968 a recurring theme of his current presidential campaign?
While reading "France And The French", I could not help but recall one of Rudolf Bing's bon mots. During that same fateful year of 1968, the Metropolitan Opera traveled to Paris for a series of performances, and was received with chilly reviews by the Parisian press. Addressing one Paris newspaper's adverse comments about American soprano Roberta Peters, Bing said "Miss Peters may have had a bad night, but the Paris Opera has had a bad century."
France, too, has had a bad century, and economic and demographic and political studies suggest that the 21st Century will be even worse for France.
Already, France has ten million fewer inhabitants than Iran--and, with a current birth rate of 1.15 and falling, France's population is expected to be cut in half over the next thirty years. The economies of Korea and Taiwan and Brazil and Poland will surpass the economy of France in the next decade or sooner. In fifty years, France will be a dedicated third-world country (although one of my best friends, who studied art history in Paris for one year in 2004, already calls Paris "a third-world city with a great subway system").
And all of this has happened because of taxes, tariffs and trade. Does anyone--even Sarkozy--get it?
The Elysee Palace
The depositions in Baltimore were postponed, again. Otherwise, I would be in Baltimore right now.
The Sarkozy-Royal debate is going on, right now, as I type, and I am trying to keep up with the debate online. I know that Sarkozy is favored to win, but I am not confident that the French voters are ready for the magnitude of change that the country needs.
I await Sunday's results with interest. At the very least, the deplorable Chirac will be out of power.
Today Chirac has been extremely busy, refusing to allow a judge's warrant to be carried out. The warrant called for a search of presidential papers in The Elysee Palace.
The Sarkozy-Royal debate is going on, right now, as I type, and I am trying to keep up with the debate online. I know that Sarkozy is favored to win, but I am not confident that the French voters are ready for the magnitude of change that the country needs.
I await Sunday's results with interest. At the very least, the deplorable Chirac will be out of power.
Today Chirac has been extremely busy, refusing to allow a judge's warrant to be carried out. The warrant called for a search of presidential papers in The Elysee Palace.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Mulch
Our weekend can pretty much be summarized in one word: mulch.
My father and Josh and I spread mulch all day Saturday. We spread it around trees, front, back and side, we spread it around bushes, front, back and side, we spread it alongside the house, front, back and side, and we spread it along the entire length of the back yard fence. We used so much mulch that we had to make five trips to the garden center before we had all the mulch we needed. One or two or three of us spread mulch from 8:00 a.m. until 6:30 p.m. When we were not spreading mulch, we were pruning bushes and pruning trees, and fertilizing the grass.
Of course, we got frightfully dirty, so dirty that we had to eat lunch Saturday on the back deck, since my mother would not allow my father or Josh or me into the house.
Yesterday morning, before the mulch festivities began, my father and Josh and I rose very early, and we went out to eat breakfast at a Bob Evans, after which we made our first of five trips to the garden center. When my brothers and I were kids, my Dad would often take us to a Bob Evans for breakfast on Saturday mornings, in order that my mother not have to concern herself with preparing breakfast on those Saturdays. Ever since, I have always been fond of going to a Bob Evans for breakfast, especially on a Saturday in which there is work to be done. When I go there, I always order bacon and eggs, AND pancakes, and that is what I ordered yesterday morning, and so did Josh, and so did my Dad. I think that all three of us were determined to get meaningful cholesterol injections into our systems before we began our yard work.
Last evening, when the yard work was finally done, we were so dirty that my mother made us clean up in the basement bathroom--she was not going to allow us, she said, to track dirt into her house. She rewarded us, however, with a very nice dinner: beef tenderloin, with a special potato dish made with cream and chives, fresh green beans, sweet corn and a tomato-cucumber salad. For dessert, she had made for us an apple pie.
It was after 9:00 p.m. by the time we were done eating dinner, and we were tired, and we went to bed not too long after.
Today, after church, my father and Josh and I washed windows for my mother. My father washed windows on the inside, and Josh and I washed windows on the outside. It took us all afternoon. There were other projects around the house we had planned on doing this weekend, but we ran out of time and we will have to do those on some future weekend.
When we were done washing windows, we had an early and light dinner, and then Josh and I came home.
I am scheduled to go to Baltimore this week, for two days, to assist at depositions, but the depositions have been scheduled and postponed two times before, and the lead attorney on the case has told me not to be surprised if the depositions are postponed, at short notice, for a third time.
I would be happy not to go to Baltimore. There is one place, however, where I have a hankering to go--I have a hankering to go to Denver, to visit my middle brother. I have not been to Denver to visit him there since the summer of 2005, and Josh has never been to my brother's place in Denver. Josh and I want to go soon, and my brother wants us to come. It seems difficult, however, to schedule a time, as we always seem to be so busy.
My father and Josh and I spread mulch all day Saturday. We spread it around trees, front, back and side, we spread it around bushes, front, back and side, we spread it alongside the house, front, back and side, and we spread it along the entire length of the back yard fence. We used so much mulch that we had to make five trips to the garden center before we had all the mulch we needed. One or two or three of us spread mulch from 8:00 a.m. until 6:30 p.m. When we were not spreading mulch, we were pruning bushes and pruning trees, and fertilizing the grass.
Of course, we got frightfully dirty, so dirty that we had to eat lunch Saturday on the back deck, since my mother would not allow my father or Josh or me into the house.
Yesterday morning, before the mulch festivities began, my father and Josh and I rose very early, and we went out to eat breakfast at a Bob Evans, after which we made our first of five trips to the garden center. When my brothers and I were kids, my Dad would often take us to a Bob Evans for breakfast on Saturday mornings, in order that my mother not have to concern herself with preparing breakfast on those Saturdays. Ever since, I have always been fond of going to a Bob Evans for breakfast, especially on a Saturday in which there is work to be done. When I go there, I always order bacon and eggs, AND pancakes, and that is what I ordered yesterday morning, and so did Josh, and so did my Dad. I think that all three of us were determined to get meaningful cholesterol injections into our systems before we began our yard work.
Last evening, when the yard work was finally done, we were so dirty that my mother made us clean up in the basement bathroom--she was not going to allow us, she said, to track dirt into her house. She rewarded us, however, with a very nice dinner: beef tenderloin, with a special potato dish made with cream and chives, fresh green beans, sweet corn and a tomato-cucumber salad. For dessert, she had made for us an apple pie.
It was after 9:00 p.m. by the time we were done eating dinner, and we were tired, and we went to bed not too long after.
Today, after church, my father and Josh and I washed windows for my mother. My father washed windows on the inside, and Josh and I washed windows on the outside. It took us all afternoon. There were other projects around the house we had planned on doing this weekend, but we ran out of time and we will have to do those on some future weekend.
When we were done washing windows, we had an early and light dinner, and then Josh and I came home.
I am scheduled to go to Baltimore this week, for two days, to assist at depositions, but the depositions have been scheduled and postponed two times before, and the lead attorney on the case has told me not to be surprised if the depositions are postponed, at short notice, for a third time.
I would be happy not to go to Baltimore. There is one place, however, where I have a hankering to go--I have a hankering to go to Denver, to visit my middle brother. I have not been to Denver to visit him there since the summer of 2005, and Josh has never been to my brother's place in Denver. Josh and I want to go soon, and my brother wants us to come. It seems difficult, however, to schedule a time, as we always seem to be so busy.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
The Finns
Last evening my parents and Joshua and I went to Saint Paul to hear a recital by Karita Mattila, sponsored by the Schubert Club.
The Ordway Center, with 1900 seats, is too large for a song recital, but almost all recitals by artists visiting the Twin Cities are held there, as it is the most suitable venue we have.
Mattila is a striking woman. She is tall and lithe, and she cuts a commanding figure onstage. From a distance, she appears to be very attractive but, when one sees her up close, one cannot help but notice that she is not a pretty woman, at least in the conventional sense.
Her eyes, too, are disappointing. They are not warm, they are not expressive, they are not inviting, they are not lively. She has the cold, dispassionate eyes of an efficiency expert.
Mattila's voice is large, and she knows how to manipulate it. She sings on pitch, and her voice is even throughout its registers.
However, her voice is a "white" one, and she does not have a wide array of colors at her disposal. Having a "white" voice did not hamper the careers of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Lisa Della Casa or Elisabeth Grummer--if anything, having a "white" voice helped those artists--but Mattila is not in the same league, musically and artistically, as those great singers of the past. Her musical phrasing is generalized, she does not make much use of texts, and her singing, of everything, is cut from the same cloth--she emits an all-purpose, undifferentiated flow of sound, whether the music be Verdi, Richard Strauss, Janacek or from the song literature, and this singing becomes less and less interesting as the evening wears on. It is easy to understand why she has never been a successful recording artist.
Such singing can work in the theater, and Mattila is a very successful artist in the theater. Because she is a very physical singer and actress, she can project emotion and portray a character, convincingly, even when her purely vocal performance in the theater may be perfunctory and bland. However, on the recital platform, such skills from the theater are of limited use. In fact, they can even be counter-productive.
Mattila tried to use those theatrical skills a little too much and a little too often last night. She moved around the stage far too much, and she played with her arms and her legs, and she offered a large (if not outright dismaying) assortment of facial gestures to let the audience know what she was feeling. However, her eyes, dull and blank, gave the game away: she was play-acting.
Last evening's program did not include any of the most-beloved songs of Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and Strauss. Instead, Mattila offered Barber's "Hermit Songs", songs by composers from Finland, some Wolf songs, and some Spanish numbers. She was probably wise to steer away from well-known lieder.
The Barber and Wolf songs were dutiful. In the Spanish songs, Mattila tried to have some "fun", but her attempts were labored and unsuccessful. Only in the songs from Finland did I sense that Mattila was singing music that she fully understood and loved.
Successful opera singers are generally not good song recitalists, and last evening's recital only reinforced this point. Mattila seemed uncomfortable the entire time--out of her element, working outside of her natural realm, a square peg in a round hole. And this is entirely understandable, as the broad skills needed in the theater are not the same as the requirements of precision, specificity, characterization, individuality and subtlety needed to bring twenty different and varied songs to life in the recital hall. Everyone would have been happier last night--the audience as well as Mattila--had she simply offered a program of operatic excerpts.
Last evening's recital was not sold out. My parents and Joshua and I observed many empty seats, and I believe that this was the only Shubert Club performance this season that was not sold out. The audience was quiet and attentive, but there were many more empty seats after intermission than there were when the recital began. It was a very disappointing evening.
Perhaps concert-goers in the Twin Cities are finally tiring of the Finns.
In the last year, sentiment has started to turn against Osmo Vanska at the Minnesota Orchestra. He is a very limited musician, with a very limited repertory, and I have noticed that I now hear people talk about how they are tiring of Vanska and his ridiculous podium theatrics and his superficial performances. At my office, there are large numbers of persons who have already had enough of him, and who now try to give away their tickets almost every weekend--generally without any takers (if we wanted, Josh and I could go, free, to practically every single Minnesota Orchestra performance).
Just this season, my mother has started to dislike Vanska. Even my father, whom I like to tease is more devoted to Vanska than Vanska's own agent, now admits, with some reluctance, that Vanska has nothing special to offer outside of the Scandinavian repertory. My parents always get a full season subscription, and I know that they will renew their subscription next year. However, I suspect that they will skip a fair number of concerts next year.
The members of the orchestra, however, are still extremely positive about their conductor. There is very, very little unenthusiasm about Vanska among the players.
One thing the Minnesota Orchestra needs to do is to upgrade the quality of its guest conductors. This is one step the orchestra can take to maintain a high level of interest among its long-term subscribers.
And the Minnesota Orchestra has the financial wherewithal to hire the very best guest conductors in the world each and every season. The orchestra's endowment is one of the six largest in the country, dwarfing the endowments of the Cleveland Orchestra and the Philadelphia Orchestra and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. There is no excuse for the Minnesota Orchestra not to present a fine array of guest conductors each season.
Before last night's recital, my parents and Joshua and I ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, in order to save my mother from having to worry about dinner.
This coming weekend, I think that Josh and I will go over to my parents' house and spend the entire weekend there, even staying overnight. I think that we will help my father get the yard ready for the summer, and wash windows for my mother, and help them with some other projects around the house.
It is good to have them back from Oregon.
The Ordway Center, with 1900 seats, is too large for a song recital, but almost all recitals by artists visiting the Twin Cities are held there, as it is the most suitable venue we have.
Mattila is a striking woman. She is tall and lithe, and she cuts a commanding figure onstage. From a distance, she appears to be very attractive but, when one sees her up close, one cannot help but notice that she is not a pretty woman, at least in the conventional sense.
Her eyes, too, are disappointing. They are not warm, they are not expressive, they are not inviting, they are not lively. She has the cold, dispassionate eyes of an efficiency expert.
Mattila's voice is large, and she knows how to manipulate it. She sings on pitch, and her voice is even throughout its registers.
However, her voice is a "white" one, and she does not have a wide array of colors at her disposal. Having a "white" voice did not hamper the careers of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Lisa Della Casa or Elisabeth Grummer--if anything, having a "white" voice helped those artists--but Mattila is not in the same league, musically and artistically, as those great singers of the past. Her musical phrasing is generalized, she does not make much use of texts, and her singing, of everything, is cut from the same cloth--she emits an all-purpose, undifferentiated flow of sound, whether the music be Verdi, Richard Strauss, Janacek or from the song literature, and this singing becomes less and less interesting as the evening wears on. It is easy to understand why she has never been a successful recording artist.
Such singing can work in the theater, and Mattila is a very successful artist in the theater. Because she is a very physical singer and actress, she can project emotion and portray a character, convincingly, even when her purely vocal performance in the theater may be perfunctory and bland. However, on the recital platform, such skills from the theater are of limited use. In fact, they can even be counter-productive.
Mattila tried to use those theatrical skills a little too much and a little too often last night. She moved around the stage far too much, and she played with her arms and her legs, and she offered a large (if not outright dismaying) assortment of facial gestures to let the audience know what she was feeling. However, her eyes, dull and blank, gave the game away: she was play-acting.
Last evening's program did not include any of the most-beloved songs of Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and Strauss. Instead, Mattila offered Barber's "Hermit Songs", songs by composers from Finland, some Wolf songs, and some Spanish numbers. She was probably wise to steer away from well-known lieder.
The Barber and Wolf songs were dutiful. In the Spanish songs, Mattila tried to have some "fun", but her attempts were labored and unsuccessful. Only in the songs from Finland did I sense that Mattila was singing music that she fully understood and loved.
Successful opera singers are generally not good song recitalists, and last evening's recital only reinforced this point. Mattila seemed uncomfortable the entire time--out of her element, working outside of her natural realm, a square peg in a round hole. And this is entirely understandable, as the broad skills needed in the theater are not the same as the requirements of precision, specificity, characterization, individuality and subtlety needed to bring twenty different and varied songs to life in the recital hall. Everyone would have been happier last night--the audience as well as Mattila--had she simply offered a program of operatic excerpts.
Last evening's recital was not sold out. My parents and Joshua and I observed many empty seats, and I believe that this was the only Shubert Club performance this season that was not sold out. The audience was quiet and attentive, but there were many more empty seats after intermission than there were when the recital began. It was a very disappointing evening.
Perhaps concert-goers in the Twin Cities are finally tiring of the Finns.
In the last year, sentiment has started to turn against Osmo Vanska at the Minnesota Orchestra. He is a very limited musician, with a very limited repertory, and I have noticed that I now hear people talk about how they are tiring of Vanska and his ridiculous podium theatrics and his superficial performances. At my office, there are large numbers of persons who have already had enough of him, and who now try to give away their tickets almost every weekend--generally without any takers (if we wanted, Josh and I could go, free, to practically every single Minnesota Orchestra performance).
Just this season, my mother has started to dislike Vanska. Even my father, whom I like to tease is more devoted to Vanska than Vanska's own agent, now admits, with some reluctance, that Vanska has nothing special to offer outside of the Scandinavian repertory. My parents always get a full season subscription, and I know that they will renew their subscription next year. However, I suspect that they will skip a fair number of concerts next year.
The members of the orchestra, however, are still extremely positive about their conductor. There is very, very little unenthusiasm about Vanska among the players.
One thing the Minnesota Orchestra needs to do is to upgrade the quality of its guest conductors. This is one step the orchestra can take to maintain a high level of interest among its long-term subscribers.
And the Minnesota Orchestra has the financial wherewithal to hire the very best guest conductors in the world each and every season. The orchestra's endowment is one of the six largest in the country, dwarfing the endowments of the Cleveland Orchestra and the Philadelphia Orchestra and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. There is no excuse for the Minnesota Orchestra not to present a fine array of guest conductors each season.
Before last night's recital, my parents and Joshua and I ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, in order to save my mother from having to worry about dinner.
This coming weekend, I think that Josh and I will go over to my parents' house and spend the entire weekend there, even staying overnight. I think that we will help my father get the yard ready for the summer, and wash windows for my mother, and help them with some other projects around the house.
It is good to have them back from Oregon.
