Notes from Maine - 2023/10/01
The horse dentist finally came this week. It was our third appointment—the first was canceled because of an emergency elsewhere, and the second because it was too hot to anesthetize the horses. This appointment went great. Then, a couple of days later, Earl turned up with a sore foot. It’s always something. We soaked it a few days in a row and he seems better now. The farrier comes on Tuesday.
I was talking to a friend yesterday morning who was driving for a weekend getaway. That family is always on the road—making tons of plans and then struggling against their self-imposed schedule. I shouldn’t say struggling, I’m sure they really enjoy it. I think we all do the same thing to one extent or another. We recognize that there’s space in our schedule and then we fill, fill, fill it up until it feels like there’s no room to breathe.
I try to stay away from appointments and scheduled events, but they creep in. For me, I start to think, “Wouldn’t it be nice if I got X done before Y.” And then I’m fighting against a self-imposed deadline that has no real consequence except to a promise I made myself.
I was thinking about that word (promise) a lot yesterday. It seems like such a hopeful word, but it’s always used to predict disappointment. If someone says, “His first novel showed such promise,” you can bet that:
1) it wasn’t really that good
2) the following work never lived up to that promise
Otherwise, why would you say it like that?
Or, in the movie I was watching last night the father says, “And then we’ll move back home, just like you wanted.”
The daughter asks, “Promise?”
“I promise,” he says as he boops her nose.
Care to guess how the movie ended? Everyone in the family was chopped up with an axe. It was delightful—I promise.
I stumbled across a study recently (https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2023/04/230417142520.htm) entitled, “How music can prevent cognitive decline.” The summary opens with the statement, “Normal aging is associated with progressive cognitive decline.” Yeah, I mean, everyone knows that’s true I suppose but what a blunt way of saying, “You’re dumber than you were yesterday—just admit it.”
So I started listening to more music—actively listening, if you make it past the study’s summary. I should pick up an instrument again at some point. I used to play frequently. Words took over for music. Writing supplanted playing. Audiobooks and podcasts replaced listening to albums. I remember pretty clearly when it happened. I wonder if I have room for both in my life. I could set aside a certain amount of time each week to practice a new instrument or a new piece of music on an instrument that I have experience with. Then I would have a new artificial time commitment to work against. Fun!
Lately, I’ve been watching live performances from the 70s on The Midnight Special. There are a whole bunch of them on YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/@themidnightspecialtvshow), and more are posted every day it seems. If you’re unfamiliar, it was a TV show on NBC, late Friday night. They had live performances. Almost every other show was just lip-sync’d. I found myself hypnotized by both Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, and The Cars. Petty’s lyrics beg you to run away from your small town to get swallowed up by the big city. Ocasek’s writing will describe the trippy conundrum that you’ll find yourself in when you get there.
My best friend’s older brother (Matt) used to control what we watched on TV when I was spending the night at their house. On Friday night, you got Midnight Special. Saturdays were Saturday Night Live, of course. Both were educational. And, according to what I’ve read, I’ve been getting dumber every day since.
