Face of Nature

ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

The Force of Nature ~ Photo by Ben McCartney
1301 Avenue of the Americas ~ New York City
by Italian sculptor, Lorenzo Quinn (b 1966)
Now, having read Quinn's description of his work, I have mixed feelings about this sculpture. Yes, Mother Nature looks forceful but not furious, powerful but not necessarily hurtful. The way Nature's dress is blown so fiercely, even to the point of covering her face, suggests to me that there is yet another strong force, outside of both Earth and Nature, that both are struggling against.

Nor did I get the sense that Nature was harming Earth -- but maybe even trying to help in some way, trying to reign Earth in with that shiny sash, which does not look like a weapon. Nature appears to be using the strength of her arms to pull Earth closer, not to fling her away as with a slingshot. I understand now that the sculpture is intended to convey a twirling motion, as Nature hurls Earth round and round in a vicious circle. Yet, to me, Nature looks braced, as if she is exerting all her energy in an effort to hold herself steady and draw Earth in.

Slightly different versions of Quinn's Force of Nature have been displayed in various countries: England,Ireland, Monaco, and Singapore, and the United States. Oddly, even in the unclothed version of the sculpture, Quinn still covers Nature's face with the scarf, executioner - style. Without the full - length wind - blown garments, it is less clear to me why Nature's face would be covered, other than to make her more mysterious and less human, though her body is clearly that of a female human.

My first impression, before reading any background information or even the title of the piece, was not of Nature but of a mere mortal, headless, who had somehow lost her head and was struggling to regain it, only to find that what she thought was her head was instead / indeed the Earth.

In contrast to the hidden head of Quinn's "Force of Nature" is Rodin's bust of Nature, with serene face and braided wheat for hair, that I saw earlier this week at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. Despite her apparent serenity, Nature / Miss Fairfax is a force to be reckoned with:

Signed on the Back
Now, compare Nature (above) to Spirit (below), as portrayed in this face of Prayer, rendered by Rodin's sculpting companion, Camille Claudel (click here to view / read more about the fateful and tortuted connections between Rodin and Claudel):

La Prière / The Prayer aka Le Psaume / The Psalm
Bronze Sculpture, 1889 (or 1896?)
by Camille Claudel 1864-1943
One more favorite from the Legion of Honor,
featuring sunflowers . . .

And a closing poem from Mary Oliver . . .

Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

by Mary Oliver
Contemporary American Poet (b. 1935)
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 1984

. . . loving the world . . .

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Saturday, May 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Another Museum Post ~ Guggenheim
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~ "Until We Seek Until We Find Ammonia Avenue"
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Titanic

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Molly Brown House Dining Room by Barbara Froula

Margaret / Molly Brown, and Family, At Home


Titanic Survivor

I delayed this Fortnightly post until the 15th (instead of the usual 14th) in honor of the RMS Titanic, which foundered 104 years ago today in the early hours of Monday, April 15, 1912. Thomas Hardy's 1915 poem "Convergence of the Twain" commemorates the tragedy by offering the perspective of a coincidence so vast in scope that mere mortals could not have anticipated the cosmic irony that would bring together Titanic and Iceberg:

The Convergence of the Twain
(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")
I
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" ...

VI
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII
Prepared a sinister mate
For her — so gaily great —
A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX
Alien they seemed to be;
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history,

X
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said "Now!" And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

by Thomas Hardy, 1840 - 1928
English poet, novelist, and Victorian realist


Hardy expressed a similar determinism in 1902:

The Subalterns
I
“Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky,
“I fain would lighten thee,
But there are laws in force on high
Which say it must not be.”

II
--“I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried
The North, “knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou.”

III
--“To-morrow I attack thee, wight,"
Said Sickness. “Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
But am bid enter there.”

IV
--“Come hither, Son," I heard Death say;
“I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
But I, too, am a slave!”

V
We smiled upon each other then,
And life to me had less
Of that fell look it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.


As did American poet Stephen Crane in 1899:

XXXVIII
The ocean said to me once,
"Look!
Yonder on the shore
Is a woman, weeping.
I have watched her.
Go you and tell her this --
Her lover I have laid
In cool green hall.
There is wealth of golden sand
And pillars, coral-red;
Two white fish stand guard at his bier.

"Tell her this
And more --
That the king of the seas
Weeps too, old, helpless man.
The bustling fates
Heap his hands with corpses
Until he stands like a child
With a surplus of toys."

Stephen Crane, 1871 - 1900
American poet, journalist, novelist, short story writer

from The Black Rider and Other Lines
in War is Kind and Other Poems

In Hardy's poetry, "the Spinner of the Years" and "the Immanent Will," orchestrate human destiny and the course of nature; the Sky, the North Wind, Sickness, and even Death bear humanity no ill will and never act from malice but are themselves subject to "laws in force on high." Likewise for Crane, the "bustling fates" exercise power over "The ocean" and "the king of the seas" who, despite their watery palaces, are mere figureheads, helpless to stop shipwrecks and drownings. One slight tremor -- "at a fateful time - a wrong called" (see poem #VI) -- and chaos reigns.

With great sadness, Crane likens the many lost at sea to an overabundance of playthings, piling up unused, lost forever to their loved ones yet meaningless to the gods. Hardy notes the vanity and opulence of the wasted underwater treasure, envisioning the material wealth of the Titanic -- "jewels . . . sparkles . . . gilded gear" -- lying muddy and marred on the floor of the Atlantic.

Heroic shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, as portrayed by Victor Garber in the epic film, attributes the disaster -- somewhat differently than the poets do -- to "mathematical certainty." Some crew and passengers may incredulously insist that the ship can never sink; but Andrews responds with honesty and humility. Named by many viewers as "Best Scene in Titanic," his moment of truth stands out amidst all the sweeping drama and special effects:

"She's made of Iron . . . I assure you she can [sink]!
And she will. It is a mathematical certainty."

Titanic

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Thursday, April 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Belive It Or Not
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

A Twin Sister For Jesus

ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

The Coronation of the Virgin with Six Angels, c. 1390
by Florentine Artist Agnolo Gaddi (c. 1350 - 1396)
It turns out that I'm not the only one
who believes that Jesus needs a sister!

Here are a few more:
1. In the 1980 Thomas Henry Huxley ~ Memorial Lecture, social anthropologist Edmund Leach asks not only " 'Why did Moses have a sister?' but also 'Why did Jesus not have a sister?'" (emphasis added).

Concerning the above painting of Christ crowning his mother as Queen of Heaven, Leach writes: "Apart from the fact that Christ is already wearing his crown and the Madonna is not, the two figures are represented as virtually identical; they might as well be twins" (57).

2. Contemporary American novelist James Morrow gives Jesus a younger sister in Only Begotten Daughter:

"Sister and brother, side by side, day after day, comforting the damned. It was like tending a garden, Julie decided, like watering flower beds of flesh. They divided the labor, Jesus cooling the bodies, Julie dispensing the drinks. He had the most wonderful hands, two featherless birds forever aloft on sleek, graceful wings. As he moved them, air whistled through the holes in his wrists." (182)

3. In The Friendly Persuasion, Jessamyn West allows an elderly Civil War era gentleman this forward thinking opinion:

"'God's only begotton son,' said old Eli Morningstar, leaning across the fence rail in his earnestness. 'Why only one, Jess Birdwell, and why a son? Whyn't a daughter? Something fishy there, Jess Birdwell, and the more you think on it, the plainer it becomes. Something mighty fishy. Something mighty fishy.'" (151)

4. In The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, Sue Monk Kidd recounts the day that her eyes were opened to this selfsame "Something mighty fishy":

Now sitting in church I was full of questions. Why was God always the God of Abraham, never the God of Sarah? Why was it often impossible, rare, or difficult for a woman to hold real power in the church? Women had been the largest consumers of church, yet we'd held a vastly disproportionate amount of power compared to our numbers and commitment there. . . .

The congregation stood to sing. Unbelievably, as if all the irony in the world were crashing down at once, the hymn was "Faith of Our Fathers." I tried to sing, but I could not open my mouth. It was as if something had given way in my chest. I lowered the hymnbook and sat back down. I was fighting tears.

. . . I felt too heavy to move. Until that moment I hadn't fully understood. I was in a religion that celebrated fatherhood and sonship. I was in an institution created by men and for men.

By the time I got home I felt disbelief that I'd not seen all this before -- that the church, my church, was not just a part of the male - dominant system I was waking up to, but a prime legitimizer of it.

I was too dazed to be angry. Mostly I felt disillusioned, sad, betrayed. . . . How could [the church] negate and exclude us this way? How had this happened?

. . . As de Beauvoir put it, religion had given men a God like themselves -- a God exclusively male in imagery, which legitimized and sealed their power. How fortunate for them, she said, that their sovereign authority has been vested in them by the Supreme Being.

That night I couldn't sleep. I slipped out of bed and went to my study. I stood by the window, looking out at the night. The tears I'd suppressed that morning in church finally rolled down my face." (50 - 51)

I know that's a long passage, but I had to include the entire segment because Monk Kidd expresses the disillusionment so well, the intolerable hurtfulness of being excluded by sexist language and male emphasis. Even at Christmas it's a struggle not to feel disgruntled and saddened by focus on father, son, and baby boy (thank goodness they "abhor not the virgin's womb"). The liturgical readings may be beautiful, historical, intellectual, and literary; yet the patriarchal, exclusive language in The Book of Common Prayer and the hymnal can also make girls and women feel like non - entities. Sadly, although in many instances, the language could be easily modified, the editing process does not seem to be a priority and, as ever, egregious old habits die hard.

I myself have stopped many times in the middle of a hymn (or at the beginning or sometimes declined to join in even before it starts), dismayed by the exclusivity of the masculine pronouns in every stanza. How can I keep on singing these songs? I recall Anna Quindlen writing a decade or so ago, "Well, we stick around because it's our church too" (still searching for source). But you know what -- when I hear those hymns and readings, it sure doesn't feel like my church. It's all about something that's not about me, and it hurts my heart.

Sometimes under my breath, I just change all the words to include women too, but this can be exhausting and should not be necessary (e.g., "With God as our father, brothers all are we"). Subversive murmuring may work in the short term, but we need a feminist revision. I guess it worked out okay for my sons -- Sunday school and choir -- but if they had had sisters, I'd have been worried for those girls and the negative impact on their psyches. Wouldn't it be nice to have a religion that included everyone? A Heavenly Mother (and I don't mean Mary; I mean a Goddess) as well as a Heavenly Father?

Wouldn't it be nice if God had a wife and Jesus had a sister?!

[See also To Forgive: Reprove, Restore, Reclaim]
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Thursday, April 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Belive It Or Not
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Imaginary Football

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
On the Football Field:

Little Sam as a Philadelphia Eagle!

Football
I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back...
I've got protection. I've got a receiver open downfield...
What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe, a man's
brown leather oxford. A cousin to a football maybe, the same
skin, but not the same, a thing made for the earth, not the air.
I realize that this is a world where anything is possible and I
understand, also, that one often has to make do with what one
has. I have eaten pancakes, for instance, with that clear corn
syrup on them because there was no maple syrup and they
weren't very good. Well, anyway, this is different. (My man
downfield is waving his arms.) One has certain responsibilities,
one has to make choices. This isn't right and I'm not going
to throw it.

by American poet, Louis Jenkins (b. 1942)
in Nice Fish: New and Selected Prose Poems

An old leather shoe? Or a "little punkin"? Up until my sons became kickers -- due to their early soccer training? Or more likely because I made them take ballet! -- anyway, up until then, my comprehension of the game rivaled that of Andy Griffith . If you're not familiar with Andy's "What It Was Was Football," click here to listen and have a good laugh! My siblings and I grew up listening to Griffith's classic routine on my dad's old 45rpm, and to this day can still quote all our favorite lines:

What It Was, Was Football
It was back last October, I believe it was.
We was going to hold a tent service off at this college town,
and we got there about dinner time on Saturday.
Different ones of us thought that we ought to get us a mouthful to eat
before we set up the tent.
So we got off the truck and followed this little bunch of people
through this small little bitty patch of woods there,
and we came up on a big sign that says, "Get something to Eat Here."

I went up and got me two hot dogs and a big orange drink,
and before I could take a mouthful of that food,
this whole raft of people come up around me
and got me to where I couldn't eat nothing, up like,
and I dropped my big orange drink.
Well, friends, they commenced to move,
and there wasn't so much that I could do but move with them.

Well, we commenced to go through all kinds of doors and gates
and I don't know what- all,
and I looked up over one of 'em and it says, "North Gate."
We kept on a-going through there,
and pretty soon we come up on a young boy and he says,
"Ticket, please."
And I says, "Friend, I don't have a ticket;
I don't even know where it is that I'm a-going!"
Well, he says, "Come on out as quick as you can."
And I says, "I'll do 'er; I'll turn right around the first chance I get."

Well, we kept on a-moving through there,
and pretty soon everybody got where it was that they was a-going,
because they parted and I could see pretty good.
And what I seen was this whole raft of people a-sittin' on these two banks
and a-lookin at one another across this pretty little green cow pasture.

Somebody had took and drawed white lines all over it and drove posts in it,
and I don't know what all,
and I looked down there and I seen five or six convicts
a running up and down and a-blowing whistles.
And then I looked down there and I seen these pretty girls
wearin' these little bitty short a-dancing around,
and so I thought I'd sit down and see what it was that was a-going to happen.

About the time I got set down good I looked down there
and I seen thirty or forty men come a-runnin'
out of one end of a great big outhouse down there
and everybody where I was a-settin' got up and hollered!
And I asked this fella that was a sittin' beside of me,
"Friend, what is it that they're a-hollerin' for?
Well, he whopped me on the back and he says,
"Buddy, have a drink!" I says,
"Well, I believe I will have another big orange."
I got it and set back down.

When I got there again I seen that the men had got in two little bitty bunches
down there real close together, and they voted.
They elected one man apiece,
and them two men come out in the middle of that cow pasture
and shook hands like they hadn't seen one another in a long time.
Then a convict came over to where they was a-standin',
and he took out a quarter and they commenced to odd man right there!
After a while I seen what it was they was odd-manning for.
It was that both bunchesfull of them wanted
this funny lookin little pumpkin to play with.
And I know, friends, that they couldn't eat it
because they kicked it the whole evenin' and it never busted.

Both bunchesful wanted that thing.
One bunch got it and it made the other bunch just as mad as they could be!
Friends, I seen that evenin' the awfulest fight
that I ever have seen in all my life!
They would run at one -another and kick one- another
and throw one another down and stomp on one another
and grind their feet in one another
and I don't know what-all and just as fast as one of 'em would get hurt,
they'd take him off and run another one on!

Well, they done that as long as I set there,
but pretty soon this boy that had said
"Ticket, please." He come up to me and said,
"Friend, you're gonna have to leave
because it is that you don't have a ticket."
And I says, "Well, all right." And I got up and left.

I don't know friends, to this day,
what it was that they was a doin' down there,
but I have studied about it.
I think it was that it's some kindly of a contest
where they see which bunchful of them men can take that pumpkin
and run from one end of that cow pasture to the other
without gettin' knocked down or steppin' in somethin'.

by American entertainer, Andy Samuel Griffith (1926 – 2012)

CLICK HERE
for more poems about football,
both real and imaginary!
Despite having a British dad and a childhood of inner city soccer (@ Taney & Fairmont), my boys were attracted to the game of American football since toddler - hood. Finding a play area wasn't always easy, though. How we dreaded those forbidding city signs: "no glass, no bottles, no skates, no skateboards, no frisbees, no balls." No ball playing? But as Sam once declared: "Well, it doesn't say anything about imaginary football, does it?

Away he went to entertain himself. Knowing he was safe, I allowed my eyes to scan the book I had brought along -- until one of the dads at the park, with a better appreciation of football than I -- nudged me and said, "Look at your son!" It was an endearing sight, even for an uninformed mother such as myself, who at that time had no comprehension whatsoever of O - lines or P.A.T.s There was Sam, playing an entire game on his own: offense, defense, commentary -- running from one end of the playing field to the other, he had the entire game mapped out in his head and he was good to go, football or no!

Over the years, I learned a bit more about the game. As Sam explained at his Senior Football Banquet (2010 - 2011:

"I want to thank my mom for always driving me to practice during my football career in Little Gridiron, Junior High Football, and the early years of High School football. For making me breakfast during the summer after conditioning and double practices. I also want to thank my mom for underatking and accomplishing the endeavor of understanding the game of football.

"I want to thank my dad for filming my kicks during the games this year. For driving all over the state of Indiana to watch my games. For driving me all over the Midwest to attend football camps. I also want to thank my dad for undertaking and accomplishing the endeavor of helping my mom understand the game of football."

Thanks for the shout - out Sam!
Funny and true!
Writing recently about some of Sam's current musical favorites reminded me of a song from several years ago, which provided the title for narrative reminiscence that Sam composed in Senior English, describing some of those early football encounters and what he learned from them:

"I was once that little boy"
As a young boy, living in the Mecca that was downtown Philadelphia posed many problems for my love of fresh air, but more so for my love of football. The blocks and blocks of man - made material were like a Soviet Blockade. But it was the obstacle, the wait, and the anticipation in my search for an area in which to play football that made my love for it so much stronger.

I scampered ahead of my mom, trying to turn the next corner as quickly as possible. I was keyed p by the mere thought of going to an area where grass could be cultivated. My mother, weary from the tribulations of raising two young boys, was nearing the end of her patience. She refused to let me out of her sight.

"Sam," we are almost there. Just wait."

Realizing that I could not squander my mother's tolerance so early in the day, I sulked back to her and slouched at her heels. As we walked down Delancey Street, every twenty steps the palpable fumes from the sewage drains wafting by my nose, I couldn't help feeling sorry for myself. Trudging down the 300 year - old brick walk, looking at the Benjamin Franklin "History Signposts," I was constantly reminded that Philadelphia would always be stuck in its past. Looking up and seeing skyscraper upon skyscraper made me feel doomed in the urban forest.

Lost in my thoughts of resentment, distance and time eluded me. My other looked down in confusion.

"You have wanted to come here forever. Go play!"

I woke from my daydream and felt as though a cool breeze had swept over my whole body and blown away everything that ever could have been bad. There it was: Washington Square Park, like a mirage of water in the midst of a desert. I could not contain myself. Football in hand, McNabb jersey on, and Red Converse All - Stars strapped up, I was finally ready to, as they say, toss the old pigskin around. It was like no other sensation I ha ever experienced. The invisible shackles of the inner - city dissolved in thin air, and I could now live out my wildest fantasies. I felt the rush of blood, the pure exhilaration from head to foot of imitating Freddie Mitchell's catch on 4th and 26 against the Green Bay Packers. In my head, I had just been tackled by the ferocious linebacker, but then I looked up.

"Boy, no footballs are allowed in the park."

How could an upstanding police officer possible crush my dream like that? I watched him strut away, with that smirk on his face, and I could tell he loved exercising his false sense of power, much the old lady standing behind the counter at the BMV. My clenched fists and glaring eyes, focused on the austere officer, barely scratched the surface of my fury. What confused me more was why he would want to stop me from enjoying my time at the park: grass, grass everywhere and not a blade to play on.

I knew that if my mom saw me sulking, which was no rare occurrence, we would leave the park. So, with no football, I had to think of something to do. As I gazed up in the sky, the sum seemed to shine just a little brighter as I realized how I would jump this hurdle. No football did not mean that the game had to end.

As I lowered my head, I realized the stadium was full of raging Packer die - hards, decked from head to toe in green and gold. Their cheese - heads were just as amusing as their maniacal jeers were frightening, but the Eagles needed me. I readjusted my chin strap, put in my mouth piece, and got back in the huddle to hear the next play. As the evening wore on, he game was finally decided in the eighth overtime. I had six touchdown receptions, broke every single NFL record, and led the team to victory, clinching a spot in the Super Bowl.

I strolled home, head held high, like a conquering hero surveying my new dominion. I recounted all of my fabulous diving catches, amazing jukes, touchdown upon touchdown receptions and obviously the postgame interview with the press. On top of the universe, I thought back on the police officer. I was proud of myself that I had created an alternative solution and that I had still allowed myself to enjoy my outing. At that moment I realized it is not what people tell us that determines what we can do, but it is how we react.

Thanks to Guest Blogger Sam McCartney
for sharing this experience
and for permission to reprint!

**************************************

And thanks to Uncle Bruce for sending
Little Ben the Kansas City Chiefs version,
back before we were Eagles' Fans

Additional Musical Recommendations

from Ben ~ "Duets"

and Sam ~ "Forever Young Again"
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, March 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Millennials & Music"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~ "Climb Inside and Live There"
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Forever Young Again

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
At the Portrait Studio:
Sears ~ Summer 2012 & Penney's ~ December 2014

"There are many things in life. You're very young," said Ralph.
"I feel very old," said Isabel.
"You'll grow very young again. . . ."

Henry James ~ from Portrait of a Lady, 1881
(Chapter 54, p 471)

MUSICAL CONNECTIONS
1. from "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel
Once I thought my innocence was gone;
Now I know that happiness goes on . . . (1983)

2. from "Oh Very Young" by Cat Stevens, aka Yusuf Islam
Oh very young, What will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy's best jeans
Denim blue fading up to the sky

And though you want him to last forever
You know he never will
You know he never will
And the patches make the goodbye harder still

Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind
And if you want this world to see a better day
Will you carry the words of love with you?
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven?

And though you want to last forever
You know you never will
You know you never will
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still . . . (1974)

3. from "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar
We are young
heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong
No one can tell us were wrong
Searchin' our hearts for so long . . . (1983)

4. from "Forever Young" by Alphaville
Youth's like diamonds in the sun,
And diamonds are forever

So many adventures given up today,
So many songs we forgot to play.
So many dreams swinging out of the blue
Oh let it come true.

Forever young,
I want to be forever young.
Do you really want to live forever,
Forever, and ever? (1984)

5. from "We Are Young" by Fun, featuring Janelle Monae
Tonight
We are young
So let’s set the world on fire
We can burn brighter than the sun (2011)

6. "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young. (1974)

7. "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart
May the good Lord be with you
Down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness
surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever Young, Forever Young
Forever Young, Forever Young

May good fortune be with you
May your guiding light be strong
Build a stairway to heaven
with a prince or a vagabond
And may you never love in vain

And in my heart you will remain
Forever Young, Forever Young
Forever Young, Forever Young
Forever Young, Forever Young

And when you finally fly away
I'll be hoping that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime
No one can ever tell
But whatever road you choose
I'm right behind you, win or lose

Forever Young, Forever Young
Forever Young, Forever Young
Forever Young, Forever Young (1988)

*****************************
Two weeks (and one leap day!) ago, my post for the 14th, featured a series of Duets recommended by my older son Ben. Since then, my younger son Sam has suggested "Young Again" by Hardwell: "This is an 'EDM' song, but more melodic than most. I think you will enjoy."

Sam was right. I loved the melody and the lyrics, which brought to mind all of the above snippets from so many previous favorites. I kept wandering from one connection to the next, arriving ultimately at "Forever Young."

I guess one doesn't have to be very old to yearn for an earlier, more carefree time. After all, Hardwell himself is only 28, and Sam is even younger! I hope they will feel young again; better yet, I hope they will feel young now, because -- guess what? -- they are young! But I know what they mean. The obligations pile up; the duties and responsibilities seem to completely overshadow those faraway times of unstructured simplicity and creativity. And what's the best way to capture that nostalgia? A song, of course! Here is Hardwell's reminiscence that Sam so kindly recommended for his old parents:

"Young Again" by Hardwell
When I was a boy
I dreamed of a place
in the sky
Playing in the fields
Battling with my shields
Bows made out of twine

I wish I could see this
world again
through those eyes
See the child in me
in my fantasy
Never growing old

Will we ever feel young again
Will we ever feel young again
Will we ever feel young again

We wanna feel young
We wanna feel young again

When I was a boy
I searched for a world
that's unknown
All we have is fun
everybody runs
until the sun goes down

I wish I could see this
world again
through those eyes
See the child in me
in my fantasy
Never growing old

Will we ever feel young again
Will we ever feel young again
Will we ever feel young again

You wanna feel young
You wanna feel young again (2015)

In addition to Hardwell,
Sam also sent an enthusiastic recommendation for Armin:

Letter From Sam:

"Mom and Dad -- I tried to pick my favorite Armin song, but no man, woman or child could ever hope to accomplish such a daunting task.

As such, I will be offering you a spread of my favorite Armin songs in this week's EDM Update email.

Disclaimer: When listening to Armin, you don't just listen to music, but you enter a #StateOfTrance

His most famous song: "This Is What It Feels Like"

Current most famous song: "Strong Ones"

My current favorite: "Heading Up High"

His Entrance Song (very similar to Dad's March Song) -- this was my favorite for a long time. It is 7 minutes, but I highly recommend. Dad I think you will very much enjoy this one: "Embrace"

His Closing Song: "Looking For Your Name"

Enjoy!! (not necessary, I know you will)"

~~ THANKS SAM! ~~
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, March 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Millennials & Music"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~ "Climb Inside and Live There"
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Duets

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
At the Algonquin, New York City

At a party a few years ago, Gerry got distracted when he was supposed to be getting drinks for us. It was a big crowd, and I couldn't really see where he was, and it took him ages to get back, and he stopped off to visit with various other guests along the way; and in the meantime, the woman I was chatting with had already been brought a glass of wine by her husband, and I was feeling forgotten about.

When Gerry finally turned up with some lukewarm drinks, I pouted, "You are a very bad boyfriend."

With great gallantry he responded, "But I am a very good husband!" I thought that was the sweetest thing ever and it made me laugh so much because it was so romantic and so true!

"If I forgot who I am,
Would you please remind me oh?
Cause without you things go hazy . . . "

SOME DUETS FOR VALENTINE'S DAY
~~ Thanks Reggie! ~~
"Hazy" ~ Rosi Golan & William Fitzsimmons

"Merci" ~ Emmanual Moire & Claire Joseph

"The Next Time I Fall" ~ Peter Cetera & Amy Grant

"Anyone Else But You" ~ from Juno

"You Don't Know Me" ~ Ben Folds & Regina Spektor

"Can't Help Falling In Love" ~ Katharine McPhee & Andrea Bocelli

"Sky" ~ Joshua Radin & Ingrid Michaelson (and "Star Mile")

"Just Give Me a Reason" ~ Pink & Nate Ruess

"Duet" ~ Rachael Yamagata

"Last Night of the World" ~ Lea Salonga & Will Chase, from Miss Saigon

"Two People" ~ Robby Hecht & Caroline Spechter

MY SUGGESTIONS
"A Whole New World" ~ Peabo Bryson & Regina Belle
~ from Aladdin ~
"Tonight I Celebrate My Love for You" ~ Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack

"Love & Happiness" ~ Emmylou Harris & Mark Knopfler
I didn't know this song until I heard Emmylou sing it live in Portland, Oregon, in 2008; but if I'd known it when Ben & Sam were little, I would have sung it to them all the time!
"Gulf Coast Highway" ~ Emmylou & Willie Nelson
A love song for old people.
"Wild Montana Skies" ~ Emmylou & John Denver Not exactly a love story
but an inspiring duet of good cowboy lyrics and life lessons.
"Dream A Dream" ~ Charlotte Church & Billy Gilman
Based on "Pavane, Opus 50" by Gabriel Fauré.
This duet appears on Charlotte's Christmas album (December 2000).
Waltz for Eva & Che ~ Madonna & Antonia Banderas
Also so my book blog
"They Were You" ~ Matt & Luisa
From The Fantasticks -- stage version, not the bad movie!

GER'S ADDITION
"Reg, your mother told me about your Valentine Day project.
This isn’t a duet but its about a duet.
I’ve included the lyrics, you’ll need them."

"Lucky Number" ~ Lena Lovich

I never used to cry 'cause I was all alone
For me, myself and I is all I've ever known
I never felt the need to have a hand to hold
In everything I do I take complete control
That's where I'm coming from
My lucky number's one

I've everything I need to keep me satisfied
There's nothing you can do to make me change my mind
I'm having so much fun
My lucky number's one
Ah! Oh! Ah! Oh!

I now detect an alien vibration here
There's something in the air besides the atmosphere
The object of the action is becoming clear
An imminent attack upon my heart I fear
The evidence is strong
My lucky number's wrong
Ah! Oh! Ah! Oh!

Something tells me my lucky number's gonna be changing soon
Something tells me lucky number's gonna be oweoweoweoweoweowe...

You certainly do have a strange effect on me
I never thought that I could feel the way I feel
There's something in your eyes gives me a wild idea
I never want to be apart from you my dear
I guess it must be true
My lucky number's two

This rearrangement suits me now I must confess
The number one was dull and number two is best
I wanna stay with you
My lucky number's two
Ah! Oh! Ah! Oh!

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Sunday, February 29th ~ LEAP DAY!

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com