OK, professor, what happened to the “light-hearted” writing about getting older?

Light-hearted enough? Children at Klyde Warren Park, Dallas

Light-hearted enough? Children at Klyde Warren Park, Dallas

More than one reader here has reminded me that the purpose of my writing on this blog was stated to be to write light-hardheartedly about the nonsense of getting old. (Don’t you love using passive verbs to eliminate all responsibility for the indicated action? Since we don’t know who “stated” it, I am free to write what I want.)

I have two rules for writing: never, ever, under any circumstances use a passive verb; and never, ever, under any circumstances use the expletive constructions “there is,” “there are,” “it is,” “it was,” and so on. I have my students, as the last step in editing their own writing, do a word search for “there” and simply delete it and rewrite the sentence without it. Getting them to recognize passive verbs is like shoveling sand at the seashore.

My favorite passive construction, by the way, is one that more politicians than you can shake a stick at have used, “Mistakes were made.” The ultimate wiggle-room statement. Who made the mistakes? Obviously not me. Some unknown, unnameable force. They were made. By aliens. Not by anyone in MY office!

Listen to political speech. Politicians predicate their speech on the passive voice. “Ain’t no one responsible for mistakes here.”

Sheesh! Sometimes at 5 AM I find it difficult to be light-hearted. Especially if I really want to be asleep. Another writing rule I find hard to follow: never use an adverb that has fewer than four syllables. “Really” has only three, so if it were not 5 AM, I would not use it.

“It were not” is, of course, the expletive construction. Sometimes figuring out how to avoid the construction is too complicated to bother with. “It is raining.” “It is 5 AM.” Such constructions are simply too useful to avoid.

I do this because I must.

It’s the same as counting every step between the train station and Jerome’s apartment. Sometimes I have to struggle to keep myself

Light-hearted enough? Picnic in St. Petersburg, Russia

Light-hearted enough? Picnic in St. Petersburg, Russia

from going back and starting over if I lose count. Funny thing is, I don’t know exactly how many steps it is, and I’ve been doing it for 18 months. Hmmmm. A problem to solve.

I’m getting much better about that. I was seeing a psychologist for awhile whose only accomplishment was to suggest I read Getting Control by Lee Baer. The book was actually (four syllables) helpful in stopping things like counting steps.

My old office at SMU, by the way, is 99 steps from the men’s room door. I will have to figure out how many steps my new office is to the first-floor men’s room in Clements Hall.

I think these are the sorts of obsessions they (whoever they are) find out people have when they’re in first grade these days. Think how much less interesting my life would have been if “they” had given me some drug to make me normal in first grade.

How the *^’* did I get off on that tangent? I was going to write light-hardheartedly today. Well, too bad if you don’t want to know what goes on in my silly little brain. I’ll bet it’s not that much different from  what goes on in your brain. I like to talk about it, that’s all. Well, no, I have to talk about it. I have to write about something, and you don’t want me saying serious and objectionable things about Alice Walton and capitalism, so, since I don’t have anything to write about that isn’t serious, I’ll write about what’s going on in my brain—not in my mind, you understand. My brain. The two are different, after all.

What’s going on in my mind is thinking about finishing this in time to get ready to go and warm up to play the organ for the service at St. Michael and All Angels (substituting).

Gardner Read (1913-2005) was one of America’s premier composers and music teachers of the last century. He was, for many years, Composer in Residence at Boston University. Generations of conservatory students and college music majors studied the craft of orchestration using his book on the subject.

When I taught at Bunker Hill Community College, I had the great honor of meeting Professor Read and becoming friends. I played two organ recitals on which I included groups of his “Preludes on Southern Hymn Tunes.” He attended both recitals.

After the second, he gave me a copy of his “Prelude on Jesu meine Freude.” The copy was old–it was published in 1934.

So here’s what’s on my mind. I’m going to play Professor Read’s piece this morning. I made a recording of it with my iPhone yesterday as I was practicing. It’s s little bizarre–the recording, that is, because I didn’t know how to start and stop the camera and get it set up at the same time. But here’s the link (it may take awhile to open). Read-Jesu meine Freude

2 Responses to OK, professor, what happened to the “light-hearted” writing about getting older?

  1. Pingback: Confession | According to Sam

  2. Pingback: Me, senescent

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