birthdays
Happy Birthday to My Mom
It’s my mom’s 67th birthday today. She’s a yogi, a cyclist, a gardener, a mom who let me read books and study music, and a grandma who spoils her grandson rotten.
She’s never once told me I couldn’t do something and she’s the person I would choose to be my friend now even if she weren’t my mom .Happy birthday!
Happy Birthday, Johann
It’s the birthday of J.S. Bach today, composer of the music I’d take to a desert island (sonatas and partitas for solo violin) and architect of my last remaining Protestant religious experience (the St. Matthew Passion, which will get listened to this weekend).
But let’s go way back to the first Bach I or anyone else probably ever heard, the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor:
Fun music history fact: Toccata comes from the Italian toccare, “to touch,” and was essentially an improvised keyboard warm-up that got written down. And fuga is Latin for “flight.”
Happy Birthday, Jack Kerouac
It’s the birthday of the cat-loving man who defined the Beat Generation (and he doesn’t even get a Google Doodle? come on!). It was lines like this in The Dharma Bums that encouraged my inner hippie, starting back in high school:
“The closer you get to real matter, rock air fire and wood, boy, the more spiritual the world is.”
Happy Birthday, Douglas Adams
The author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series was born today in 1952. I remember picking up the first book in high school and thinking, “Hey, this is cool.” Stuff like this was the soul of wit to a 17-year-old me:
“You know,” said Arthur, “it’s at times like this, when I’m trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I’d listened to what my mother told me when I was young.”
“Why, what did she tell you?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t listen.”
If you haven’t read any and you like science fiction and/or Dr. Who, go pick it up–at the very least so you can get all the “42” jokes out there.
Happy Birthday, Doc
It’s the birthday of this guy, who “came into my life and made the living fine”:
As per usualy, I can express my feelings best with a quote:
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
Happy birthday, Doc!
Friday Unrelated Information
1. It’s my sister-in-law’s birthday today! It’s been 11 years now and she’s still kind and happy and accommodating and delightful to be around, no matter what my family throws at her. Happy birthday, Altair!
2. Tomorrow is St. Lucy’s Day, which I’m just learning about as “one of the few saints celebrated by the overwhelmingly Lutheran Nordic people”. The celebration includes wearing a wreath on your head and lighting candles to fight the darkness of winter, so it should come as no surprise I like it.
3. And finally, I learned that someone who makes scissors is called a “putter,” which is short for “putter-togetherer.” Here is a nice little silent film about a putter:
The Putter from shaun bloodworth on Vimeo.
Friday Unrelated Information
1. It was poet Wallace Stevens’ birthday yesterday, who once said, “After one has abandoned a belief in god, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life’s redemption.” Happy birthday, Wally.
2. Doc took this picture of Toby yesterday after I’d left for that early commercial shoot. I intend to do much the same thing tomorrow:
Happy Birthday, Mary Oliver
I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying,
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing
in the world that is without
questions that can’t and probably
never will be answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and, gratefully, says so.
Happy Birthday To My Dad
It’s my dad’s birthday today! I could talk about how he’s his grandson’s absolute favorite person, or about how strong and handy he is, or about how he lives by The Cowboy Code, or about how he has so much knowledge about so many things, but instead I will thank him for raising me without once casting doubt on my ability to do anything because I was a girl.
Since I’ve been lucky enough to find a feminist to date in Doc, I’ve been thinking about where I got the expectation that I wouldn’t be humored or dismissed because of my gender, and it goes straight back to how my dad treated me growing up. So thanks, Dad. And happy birthday!
This picture isn’t about raising strong daughters. But it IS about plaid shirts and Christmas cookies, and it’s too great to not post.