Do You Read Frank?

A couple of years ago I started an anonymous blog (to those who follow the blog, it's still anonymous to everyone else). I gained a few thousand followers and over 1/2 million hits (views). But I say all of that to hopefully make the point that followers and views are not necessarily indicative of quality. My blog is somewhat fluff and quite often not thoughtful. I usually write by the seat of my pants. Yet there is an intelligent and thoughtful blogger I admire and love to read, who might just be my favorite all-around blogger, and he only has ten followers and probably less than a tenth of the hits I have. I could be wrong about the latter, but I've looked at some stats on his site, and it doesn't seem he's well-known.

That's stunning to me, and so I'm compelled this morning to introduce Frank Thompson. And a proviso. As with all blogs and other writings, I don't agree with everything someone writes. What a dull place this would be if we were all in lock step on our thoughts, but I appreciate Frank's mind and most important, he always makes me think. Without further ado, I give you All Things Wildly Considered.

Diaspora, a KickStarter Darling

For over a year now I have been bemoaning Facebook's assault on its users' privacy, and thankfully, the din is growing. But from the beginning of Facebook trampling on its users, I've wondered if someone was going to come quickly with their offering of a site that has many of the advantages of Facebook without the tricks. Aah! that may soon be upon us! Yep, you may still be able to easily share with your friends and family without having to hide from the continual stripping Facebook gives you.

The lovely site KickStarter has been helping to promote the innovative among us who don't make the circuit with VC guys. It's a sort of collective angel investor in cyber world to which you have to be invited, and recently they invited a group launching what hopefully will be a comfortable alternative to Facebook. Oh, you're done with that? Think again. Social media, and especially sites such as Facebook, are eclipsing the phone and the post office, so I'm not so sure it's that easy to give up. There was a time when I thought I could walk away from Facebook. But my angst about it bordering on downright hatred during the last year has not been enough to make me leave it. The richness and ease of staying in touch with family is hard to give it up. But now there may be a better way.

Diaspora is a project being launched by four students at NYU. It's a sort of twist on the Cloud. I'm not quite sure how it works yet, but my curiosity is killing me. Need to go read on it some more, but in the meantime, I'll let the young men tackling this idea speak for themselves:



Thoughts about the video:

It might be a little scary to think of having your own "node," but maybe it's time you got in the 21st century and learned how to control your cyber information, or someone else will control it. Frankly, this idea will probably be old hat in a few years, so why not get on board now? If you're interested in being part of the test program for Disapora, you can get on their mailing list, and they may send you an invite. Invites start today.

More RA Love

For potential inmates


It began with a movie called North and South, and no, it's not the one with Patrick Swayze, may he rest in peace. The North and South I'm talking about covers roughly the same period (mid-1800s) but takes place in England. It was originally a serialized story written by Elizabeth Gaskell (Mary Barton, Cranford, Wives and Daughters) and published in the magazine Household Words and then later as a novel. In 2004 it became a BBC mini-series starring Richard Armitage (or RA as his fans often think of him). You might recognize him as the bad guy in BBC's Robin Hood or as one of the spies in MI-5 although most people have never heard of him much less seen him.

For the women reading this who have not seen North and South, even if you're not a period drama lover (I wasn't), chances are good you'll like this one. But there should be a warning on the DVD case about watching this late at night or when you don't really have time to watch the whole thing in one sitting. It is in four one-hour episodes, but most cannot stop with one even if they think they can. I started watching at 11:00 at night, and that was a mistake. I then tried to warn one of my daughters about it, and she didn't listen and ended up doing the same thing but complained that I didn't warn her. LOL!

Richard Armitage says he's "a bit of a detailed actor," and I believe it. Every time I've watched this movie I've seen something I didn't before. It truly is a little wonder, and it prompted me to find out what else he had been in. This was a bit of a feat, but thankfully, Netflix had a few other shows. By the time I got done with Netflix, I was definitely a fan. Really I was a fan after North and South, but now I guess I'm a rabid fan, and RA just gets better and better.

Recently he's done a series of audio books, and the next one, The Convenient Marriage, is due the first of August. Just as I wasn't a fan of period drama, I wasn't much of a fan of audio books and certainly not a fan of Regency novels. The mere thought of most Regency novels had me in sugar shock. But his ability to convey the characters in these stories has me laughing and smiling and definitely seeing them in my head almost like a mini-series. This is amazing to me since it was stunning how much he could convey saying little or nothing in his film performances. Then for him to switch gears and use only his voice to convey a wealth of meaning with not just one character but several? It's unlike anything I've ever witnessed in a performer. I never thought I would have James Dean and Richard Burton rolled into one.

Thank you, Netflix.

If you're still not sure about North and South, here's a little sample:



RichardArmitageNet.com provided the screencaps.

What Can I Say?

My daughter moved away from home, and I have nothing to say that is earth shaking. Yes, it's a rite of passage for me as well as her. Yes, I miss her and yet am glad that she's taken off to become the person she was meant to be. But I can't let another day go by without saying that I feel so blessed for the person she already is.

Her dad went to visit a few months ago, and like the sensitive person and writer she is, she shared her thoughts on her blog. I cannot read that without getting choked. She nailed the description of her dad. I could spend years writing about him, and I don't think I could capture him like that. Well done, Rachel!

Eternal Sunshine

A few weeks ago I spent two days driving a U-Haul truck from Texas to Colorado. Somewhere on the outskirts of Fort Worth I got stuck in a snarl of traffic about two in the afternoon. Certainly not what I thought of as rush hour, but I was so out of the groove on rush hour I didn't know anymore. I got jumpy sitting and waiting and having people cut in front of me as I inched forward in a really large vehicle with poor visibility.

A few minutes later I spotted a WalMart and immediately started fighting to exit the highway. By the time I found a parking place and walked around the truck, made sure nothing weird was poking out of the back, I was so ready to get into WalMart that I practically ran in the door. Pavlov has nothing on these people. I hustled in and noticed they had a McDonald's (don't they all), and I had to get one of those McCoffee drinks with a couple of extra shots.

This trip to WalMart was more than a respite from the highway. My youngest child was about to have a birthday, and she wanted a "big girl" bicycle. I knew WalMart in the city was going to have a much better selection than WalMart in the boonies. I was right but not entirely. Then I had to wait quite a while for someone to help me after I hit the pole buzzer. I always feel like a crumb when I have to ring a bell or buzzer to get service, and I had to stand there for a while before I overcame my self-consciousness about looking like I think I'm someone important.

A teen boy finally appeared. He was very polite but didn't know much about the bikes. Thankfully, the boy and I muddled through it together, and once I made my choice, he easily took it down from the rack and even offered to get me a few bucks knocked off the price. He and I decided to take the bike through Lawn and Garden, which usually doesn't have a long customer line. Plus, I could park the truck right outside the door and load it without blocking traffic.

While I was waiting in line with the boy, I kept trying to look outside to see if the traffic on the highway had cleared and wondering whether I would make New Mexico before it got really late. I didn't want to come over Raton Pass late at night. It's not usually a terrible pass. But it still has a treacherous feel, and I'm always relieved when I'm over the state line in Colorado even though home is another eight hours.

When it was my turn, the cashier smiled at me and a young man in his 20s stepped up to the end of the counter near her and nodded his head at the bike and asked in almost a musical tone, "Is that a birthday present?"

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and said, "Uh, yes, it is."

Then he asked, "Is it for a girl or boy?"

I was a little irritated 'cause I was in a hurry. I could see the traffic had cleared and some people in the store had told me rush hour usually starts around 3:00 pm, but I answered his question.

Then he grinned and asked, "When's her birthday?"

I answered as I was putting my credit card away and nodding at the cashier, and he said, "And what year was she born?" I was really getting perturbed at the incessant questioning, but I was polite and told him. Before the date was barely out of my mouth, he said, "Oh, she was born on a Tuesday!"

I finally looked at him fully and said, "Why yes, she was."

He grinned and said, "I'm autistic, but I'm good with birthdays. Yep, yep. yep."

"Yes, you are," I said.

"Want me to do another one?"

I smiled and said, "Sure."

"Just be sure to tell me the year."

"Okay," and then I asked him about my son's birthday.

Again, before I barely finished, he said, "He was born on a Tuesday too!"

I laughed and said, "You're right!"

I asked him several more dates and he was always right, and we could have played this game all day with the cashier and the boy as audience. But I knew they needed to get back to work. I quickly introduced myself to the young man and he told me his name was Kevin. I said, "Do you work here at WalMart, Kevin?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. I'm not sure what I do, but they pay me."

"I know what you do. You cheer up people like me and these people you work with." I noticed as I spoke the cashier and the boy were smiling and nodding their heads.

Kevin kind of ducked his head, and I shook his hand and said, "I'm glad I stopped, and I'm glad I got to meet you!" He pumped my hand vigorously and grinned and I grinned back.

I could not stop smiling as I walked to the truck, loaded it and then crept onto the highway. I was halfway home before I stopped. That was almost three weeks ago, and every time I think of Kevin, I grin.

Kevin, wherever you are, God Bless you! and I know He does.

note: I don't know a lot about autism and certainly don't know if Kevin is really autistic or if someone just told him that.

For My Fellow Inmates

You know who you are.

So I read Venetia, and now I'm listening to the audio book, which is as wonderful as everything else I've listened to. Is it possible to wear out an MP3 file?

For the uninitiated, I'm referring to the voice work of Richard Armitage. You've never heard of him? Oh, most people haven't, but maybe that will change. He is an incredible actor who has an extraordinary voice. Anyone who can make me like audio books has something going on.


Scene from North and South

I thought my first post on RA (as his fans affectionately refer to him) would be more lofty. Sorry, but it's just gushing this time around. I'll try to redeem myself later with some heady analysis. Maybe there's an audio equivalent of microexpressions? :D

In order to help anyone reading who doesn't understand the affection, I give this for your listening pleasure:



And a big thank you to the wonderful Angela for making this video.

We Need More Mel

Does this guy look like he's having a good time or what? I can't stay upset about anything when I listen to him. He's a joy. One of my disappointments is that I did not get to see him and George Shearing when they came to my hometown years ago. At the last minute something came up, and I couldn't go. Thankfully, I've got YouTube even if it can't really equal a live performance.

If you read my blog much, you realize you're going to get posts like this. I'm serious so much of the time that music is a wonderful outlet for me and especially swing. This has been true for most of my life, and I don't see it changing any time soon. So I hope you enjoy the music!

And now for something...

a little different. Bossa Nova, the Latin version of swing. This piece was originally titled Águas de Março (uh, Portugese for Waters of March).



A while back my brother told me about seeing Jane Monheit. I had never heard of her, and he said there was one song in particular that was fantastic. I didn't realize at the time that it was a song I already loved which had been recorded by the talented but tragic Susannah McCorkle. I love both versions now but feel free to compare.



and if you're really into it, you can listen to the version by the talented but tragic Elis Regina. Wonder if this song is cursed? Hopefully, Jane is third time lucky.

Oh yeah

this is what I like.



I guess when you're fifty you're supposed to like this stuff, but I've liked it since I was oh, about eight years old.

I can remember about second grade trying to pick out a Duke Ellington tune on the piano -- Satin doll. Still adore this tune. There was just something about swing that called to me and still does. Maybe because I've got that swing rhythm going on all the time. Don't know if some are born with it, but I really don't remember not having that beat permeate my body.

When I was in college, I finally got a chance to really talk about jazz and swing in particular. There were actually other kids who didn't think I was nuts to listen to hours of Duke Ellington, and there was one guy, David, in the music department who was a few years older than the rest of us, and I really loved talking to him. He's the one who gave me a much broader perspective of jazz and turned me onto Dave Bruebeck, Joe Pass and I don't even remember who else. He even took me to see a jazz concert that featured Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Brown and Joe Pass. I can still hear it. What a treat. David also had great stories about his time on the road as a jazz drummer, and he could play any instrument and well. I didn't know anyone other than my dad who really could do that, so David was pretty special in my eyes.

But what I really spent time doing was playing jazz. I probably played at least four hours a day, and it was tough to get that time in when I was going to school and working and had a lousy piano at home. So I used to sneak into the practice rooms at school until a music major would kick me out. Most of the time they didn't care if I was in there doing the odd hours that no one wanted, and I didn't mind weird hours if it meant I got to play those concert grands.

And now, thirty plus years have passed, and I haven't played so much the last few, but I'm being inspired by, of all things, YouTube. Yes, I have loved listening to Mel, and Bill Evans and Thelonious Monk and on and on. But I've been inspired to play by 7notemode, davebeeboss, lot2learn and several others. They have made me think about playing in a way that I only dreamed about in my 20s. Thank you, guys!

In Response to Vulpes Libris' Thursday Soapbox: The Perfect Bookstore

see Vulpes Libris

I adored Half-Price Books when it first started in an old laundromat in Dallas, Texas. Can't remember if the washers and dryers were still there, but the folding counters and clothes carts were, and they were covered and filled with books. There were also various and sundry crates used for books -- milk crates, fruit crates, etc. -- and there was no rhyme nor reason as to which containers were used where. As for chairs, there was everything from old chaise lounges with no backs to recliners (ala Frazier's dad's) to bean bag chairs, which meant that no one cared if someone was sprawled every which way reading a book.

A few years after this they opened a store about four or five miles to the south in an old strip shop across the street from one of the first Dr. Pepper plants. My husband and I thought we had died and gone to heaven since this place was enormous -- about half the size of a Wal-Mart but the ceilings were low slung and gave an intimate feel. Plus, the owners had really classed it up by having matching crates for each category. The arts section had milk crates, the records section (yeah, they added a wonderful old record section) had peach crates, and the history section was really up-town with brand new wooden shelves (no beveling mind you; just some lumber slapped together) and on and on.

We frequently spent several hours there on Saturday mornings (this was before kids' sports dominated our lives) and then topped it with lunch at a great old Italian restaurant next door so we could take our grocery bags full of books and sit and ooh and aah over our finds. I remember us envying the clerks at the bookstore and wishing we could have worked there to get first dibs on the really great stuff. The clerks definitely weren't there for the money, and everyone of them were readers and passionate about discussing books.

Then Half-Price had to go and make a chain and slick it up, which was fine for a few years, but it's never been what it was. Same thing happened with Tattered Cover in Denver, which is close to where I live now. Had to spiff it up and lose its charm and that wonderful invitation to explore without being intimidated by some kid who can run a computer but who looks at you like you have another head if you ask for an anthology of Chekhov never mind asking for Ambrose Bierce. As for the furniture, I'm a mutt, so the furniture is way too fine for me to ever relax.

Having said all of this, I admit I'm a big time Amazon user, but I still feel guilty when I buy a book there. I guess my old 70s brown crushed velvet love seat, which I'm sitting on as I type this, is my attempt to revisit the days of the tacky old bookstores, and Vulpes Libris serves as manna for book discussions so I can escape the sometimes mundane thinking in my little town (Think Dibley here, oh, and you would be really close to imagining my life. :D)

See what happens when you name something soapbox.