I’ve recently finished reading two novels by Kurt Vonnegut.

BLUEBEARD

The first, “Bluebeard,” copyrighted in 1987, the paperback  published by Dell, is a fictional autobiography of an artist named Rabo Karabekian. With his usual acerbic, facetious sarcasm, Vonnegut outlines the life of the “Abstract Expressionist” Karabekian; his family history, his fortunate artistic training, his experiences in World War II in the camouflage unit, his art collection (made up largely of paintings other Abstract Expressionists gave him in payment for debts) his dysfunctional marriage, and his subsequent second marriage that left him with a palatial house on a potato farm in New Jersey.

One of the hooks Vonnegut used was curiosity about the “potato barn,” locked up tight with six heavy duty padlocks, and what Karabekian had inside. Many of the novel’s characters (as well as the reader) begged and pleaded to know what was inside. Of course, Karabekian (Vonnegut) refuses to divulge the contents until the very end of the story.

Early on, Vonnegut relates the story of a king named “Bluebeard” and his many wives. Bluebeard told his latest wife she could do anything she liked except open a certain door. Curiosity gets the best of us sooner or later and the new wife couldn’t resist looking into the forbidden room. There she found the remains of all of her husband’s ex-wives! And so on . . .   🙄

So what was in the potato barn? Read it and find out!

GALAPAGOS

The second book was “Galapagos,” a novel narrated one million years in the future by the ghost of Leon Trotsky Trout. Leon is the son of one of Vonnegut’s recurring characters throughout his ouevre, science fiction writer Kilgore Trout. The paperback that I read was published in 1985 by Dell.

The story describes the series of events that causes one man and ten women to wind up on Santa Rosalia, an island on the extreme end of the Galapagos island chain. It starts in Ecuador, where the Bahia de Darwin (Spanish for Darwin Bay) is about to embark on “The Nature Cruise of the Century,” her extravagant maiden voyage to be jam packed with notable celebrities.

However, a world wide economic depression has ruined the Ecuadoran sucre and only six people have arrived to take the cruise. Vonnegut kills most of them off during the insurrection and riots of the starving Ecuadoran people and the ravages of war with neighboring Peru. The captain of the Bahia de Darwin, along with the women who booked the tour and six native children, manage to escape the chaos and eventually wind up on Santa Rosalia.

Leon, a marine in Vietnam haunted by atrocious massacres, went AWOL and fled to Sweden for asylum. There he worked in the shipyard that built the Bahia de Darwin and there he died when a sheet of steel sliced his head off. (Heh, Vonnegut always seems to take life and death so casually. So it goes . . . )

Upon his death, our narrator refuses to enter the “blue tunnel of the afterlife.” The blue tunnel appears four times in the story. In its last appearance his father, Kilgore Trout, appeals to him to leave the tawdry humans he’d been observing and join him in the afterlife, threatening not to return for a million years should Leon refuse. Thus shade Leon has observed the evolution of humanity into creatures similar to seals.

Vonnegut waxes philosophical throughout the novel, shining powerful light on many modern day ironies. In the novel he blames humans’ “big brains” for all of humanity’s shortcomings.

So, is Vonnegut really that much of a pessimist?

Maybe not, eh? The epigraph of Galapagos was a quote from Anne Frank: “In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart.”

In case all you know is Call of Duty or World of Warcraft, Anne Frank was a young Jewish survivor of the Holocaust who wrote a diary about her experiences with her family as they hid in an attic during the German occupation of the Netherlands. Sadly, they were ultimately caught and murdered in 1945. So it goes . . .

Both novels were easy to read, though keeping track of Vonnegut’s timelines isn’t always the easiest thing to do. Vonnegut seems to have an insider’s grasp of the human condition and both novels are profoundly thought provoking. I enjoyed them both.

It’s easy to expand your horizons. Read something!

The holiday season has begun and fellowship and good cheer warm the cockles of anyone’s heart. Unfortunately life isn’t on the same page as the human race a lot of the time. Chris Davis, after an all too brief battle with the big C, passed away. I attended his memorial service last night at our local Unitarian church.

The “sanctuary,” if I can call it that, not being a Unitarian, had been set up with tables and chairs so, in a manner thought to be consistent with Chris’s open and giving style, those who came could mingle together and have time to remember Chris and find fellowship with mutual friends and acquaintances. Photos from Chris’s life played on a slideshow projected on the wall. However, several hundred people showed up; the tables were soon put away and more chairs were put in place, filling the large room.

I was far from being Chris’s best friend but I knew him since I was a teenager. That was a long time ago. Chris was a force, a driving force that edified and uplifted everyone around him. The number of people who showed up to honor his memory is positive proof.

It’s been a long time since one man changed the world. With all the horror, injustice, and downright barbarism rampant in the world today one man is most likely overwhelmed. What can one man do in the face of such insurmountable odds? Not much, it seems. All most people can do is keep their heads down, go with the flow, and try to make things work out.

Chris may not have changed the world, per se. It’s safe to say, though, that he changed the worlds of the people he affected. He treated everyone as he would treat himself. He had love, love of music and art, love of people! This was obvious even to a by-standing outsider like myself. Uplifting souls like Chris are few and far between.

My father was a world-class oncohematopathologist, a cellular disease–cancer, research scientist and educator. He gave lectures all over the world and wrote a number of text books on the subject of leukemia. As a naval captain he headed his department at Bethesda Naval Hospital in DC. He was an educator at Milton Hershey, Bethesda, Loyola University in Chicago, and the University of Cincinnati and had a string of acronyms after his name. My father saved lives and is still doing so through his textbooks.

Why do I bring this up? Dad had a profound impact on many people’s lives, a lot of them alive today because of his efforts. There were only about 40 people at his funeral. Perhaps in the lofty ivory tower of science you don’t make that many friends? I don’t know.

So why did so many people show up for Chris’s service? Chris was no rocket scientist, no world leader, no pious theologian, no towering giant of history. However, he was indeed a human being with a positive, unsinkable attitude; he touched peoples’ lives directly. He was a grass roots hero, a testament to what one man can do.

How can we best remember and honor Chris? It’s simple, really.

Follow his example.

Today is Black Friday, a day when a large percentage of the population teems into the stores and shops in a frenzy of avarice and greed like a swarm of piranhas stripping a side of beef. I think I’ll just stay home and blog, eh?

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, creative varieties of sweet potatoes, stuffing, savory gravy, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, varieties of rolls and breads, pumpkin pies and cakes are staples of this all-American holiday. But you know that.

I was invited to Allen and Dana’s home to share the holiday. Allen is the drummer (excellent) for Top Shelf, a band I’ve been associated with for nearly 20 years. I was grateful for the invite; otherwise my Thanksgiving, like last year, would have been carry-out in front of the TV.

When I arrived, the atmosphere, a humid,  redolent, intoxicating miasma, so familiar, so exciting to the senses, immediately enveloped me.  Adjacent and open to the kitchen was the dining area backed by floor length windows with an expansive view of the snow-blanketed back yard. Tables were set.

Al’s parents, an aunt and her son, Al’s and Dana’s four teenage children, and their dog (his name escapes me atm) were already present. The Thanksgiving dishes were warming, the bird still in the oven, the little popper button stubbornly refusing to pop. “Do you trust those things,” Al’s dad asked him. “Nope,” was the reply and Al got a roasting thermometer, opened the oven, and POP!, the button chose that moment to release. Serendipity? Read on . . .

Al removed the turkey from the oven and placed it on the counter. It was beautiful, golden brown, picture-perfect! “This is the biggest turkey we’ve ever done,” Dana said as she got her phone out to take a picture of the perfect bird. Al assembled an electric carving knife and proceeded to slice a plateful of turkey.

Two eight foot tables, the ones with the folding legs–“bingo” tables I call them, with matching table cloths were positioned lengthwise together in the dining area. The places were carefully set with attractive pottery plates and shiny silverware. Glasses at each place setting were filled with ice and beverages. There were cute floral centerpieces, condiments, and everything looked very nice. The platter of turkey was placed upon one of the tables and the side dishes were taken from the warmer and put in place. There wasn’t anywhere on either table to put anything else and still have room to eat, the feast was ready.

Everyone began to gather around the table to say grace when, all of a sudden, there was a CLICK sound and the table with the freshly sliced turkey on it collapsed on one side, its burden sliding gracefully onto the floor! Apparently the latch on one of the folding legs wasn’t completely secured.   🙁

At first no one said anything. The looks of shock, dismay, even horror, on the faces of the participants was priceless though not too funny at the moment.  Give Al and Dana credit here because there was no screaming or wailing. What can you do once you’ve spilled the milk? Clark Griswold couldn’t have handled the situation better.

My first thought was, “Damn! I wish I’d caught that with my camera.” A viral video if I ever saw one! In an attempt to mollify the situation, I commented, “If this hadn’t happened to us it would have been hilarious.” A couple people agreed, maybe even a chuckle, but no one laughed.   🙁

The shock wore off and the cleanup began. The dog, a beautiful golden retriever, to his extreme credit, laid on the floor behind the table watching the scene play out. He didn’t move a muscle toward the feast on the floor. I can’t help but wonder what the patient pooch, a smart dog incidentally, was thinking. Something like, “THANKSGIVING, YEAH!” maybe? There was a lot of turkey on the floor that would probably default to our well-behaved canine after the celebration, eh?

It occurred to me it was probably a good thing my friends had roasted their largest turkey ever. We managed to get another plateful of turkey off the remnants of the bird not sliced and while no one got stuffed with turkey we all had some. Most of the side dishes were spared as they were on the other table so it was far from a total loss.

The stuff of Thanksgiving is traditional and a prominent factor in celebrating the holiday. However, I believe the most important thing about Thanksgiving is the gathering. Material possessions, while comforting and nice, can disappear in a heartbeat. What do you have left after something like that? Possessions can be replaced. Family and friends, irreplaceable, are the most precious privilege  of our lives. That’s what I think Thanksgiving is all about.

On that count, Al and Dana’s Thanksgiving dinner was a tremendous success, in spite of the slight digression into a real-life National Lampoon vacation movie.

I’m sure the great turkey slide of 2014 will become an icon in the family journal. I can hear Dana or Al, at some Thanksgiving in the future (or whenever), saying, “Remember Thanksgiving 2014 when the table fell?” I bet it comes up every year! I’m pretty sure they’ll have a good laugh about it then.

As far as Thanksgiving goes for me, I’m grateful to be living in the USA and for friends like Al and Dana.

I think the dog will have the last laugh! “THANKSGIVING! YEAH!”

🙂

Greetings all!

Today I learned how to upload media files to my site. As a result, nine Chitlin Children recordings (mp3) are available to listen to and download if you desire. Look on the “Chitlin Music” page.

This is my first experience blogging so bear with me as I learn the ropes . . .

🙂