The Buggles probably defined my life, although I didn’t know it at the time. They are, of course, famous for “Video Killed the Radio Star”, which was a minor electronic Brit Pop hit in 1979 but became known much more for being the first music video played on MTV back when it went on-air in 1981. My parents were definitely worried about the corrosive influence of MTV in the early 80s, and despite being early adopters of cable in southern Maine, instructed my sister and me in no uncertain terms that we were not to watch such nonsense. This meant, of course, that we watched more MTV than we actually probably wanted to, and I saw the Buggles video – they were a one-hit wonder – many times, along with other masterpieces such as “Life in a Northern Town” by Dream Academy and much more of the solo career videos of the members of Fleetwood Mac than I now care to admit.
Continue reading “Video kills”Epiphany
January 6 is a big night for my family. Every year since I was born (and I think maybe before, but I can’t attest to it), my parents have hosted a get together – sometimes big, sometimes small – to celebrate Epiphany. It’s a lovely word and a lovely holiday, although as I’ve grown older I’ve realised it’s a kind of sacred-secular mishmash of sorts. January 6 was the actual day of Christmas when the Julian calendar was superceded by the Gregorian calendar in most of the Christian world – the lack of skipped leap years in the old school Roman version over the centuries had led to a bit of creep from a holiday which was always supposed to be on December 25, or roughly a few days after the winter solstice – and eastern Catholic churches didn’t really want to make the adjustment to the holiday calendar because it meant that Easter, which was based on a lunar calendar, would suddenly be much further away from Christmas, and so winter would seem to stretch into infinity.
Continue reading “Epiphany”Christmas gifts
Well it’s that time of year, dear readers – the tree is set up and hung with sparkling lights; the windows have little battery-powered candles which dispel the gloom of long Maine nights with their flickering orange glow; the stove is merrily churning out wood-stoked carbon-heavy warmth; and I’m starting to fret about whether I’ve actually checked off everyone on my Christmas gift list.
Continue reading “Christmas gifts”Baselines
I think I’ve mentioned here before that my son was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder some time ago, back when he was three. I’ve always been ambivalent about the diagnosis; his mother had him evaluated roughly six months after we split up, when she was probably at her worst point post-break-up, and her own depression was, to say the least, making it difficult for her as a mother. Our son was weathering that, and weathering the loss of my regular presence – I was getting back to Seattle for a week a month, roughly, while figuring out what to do about my London existence and experience what I can only describe as a tectonic reflection as I experienced life after the marriage – and his emotional state was fraught to say the least. I’m not sure the diagnosis was correct at all; even the write up made it sound like the evaluator was talking to just a confused, depressed, and inarticulate three-year old trying to right himself while his parents both were spinning out of orbit.
Continue reading “Baselines”Relations
It’s the holidays in 2020, and I’m sure many of us are plotting how, exactly, we’re going to connect with our friends and relatives in a time where we’re either encouraged or directed to stay away from other human beings. Gone are the office holiday parties of yore, at least for now, and also forgotten are the grand family gatherings, with extended relatives coming in via plane train and automobile to share gifts, bad habits, annoying tics, and poor holiday fashion choices. In their stead is a lot of online communication: my son, for example, will be sharing the seventh night of Hanukkah via Zoom this evening with his Jewish friends in Seattle. My tradition is Catholic; my son’s tradition is whatever transformation of Christian charity and mid-nineteenth century American pragmatic that I’ve been cobbling together, but he’ll get to incant
Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai
E-lo-he-nu Me-lech ha-olam
with his friends tonight as the candles are lit, as the seventh candle is lit, as we all collectively remember the miracle of the eight nights of light.
Continue reading “Relations”