The Songbird Knows the Score

I was saddened by the news today of the death of Christine McVie. I had actually been thinking about her over the last week or so, her talent and songwriting, and especially her role in making Fleetwood Mac one of the great bands of the late 20th century.

McVie came to mind when the family gameplay over Thanksgiving took a bit of a nasty turn the night it was me, Heidi, and Emily against Bill and Treat. The game was Mind the Gap, which is trivia played on a Monopoly style-board, each of the four sides comprised of questions from a different generation: Boomer, Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z. As teams make their away around the board, they must answer questions from each generation. There is also a challenge component, which can get really messy.

At any rate, when we were playing that night, Bill and Treat chose to start out on Gen Z and get those questions behind them. Their first category was music; "Name 3 of the 5 members of One Direction," I read.

"Harry Styles," started Treat, and there was some discussion as they tried to come up with two more of the guys. Finally they settled on Harry, Liam, and Zane.

"I'm going to say no to that," I told them. "The card includes their last names."

Well, there were some hard feelings about that call, and in truth I questioned whether I was being overly competitive, even after the game was over. Treat had made the point that boy bands are marketed by their first names only, but laying in bed that night I thought of other bands and their members. Would I have accepted Don, Glenn, Joe, and Randy for the Eagles? How about Stevie, Lindsay, Christine, John, and Mick for Fleetwood Mac? In the end I decided it was fair, if not exactly friendly, to insist. I also thought that performers deserve that respect: a great band is a combination of talent and chemistry.

Over the years, Fleetwood Mac has played with and without some of the key five musicians who wrote and recorded classic albums such as Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, Tusk, and Tango in the Night, but without Christine McVie's piano, vocals, and harmonies? It can never be the same again.

It Was Worth a Try

"Can I charge my iPad? It's only at 5%" a student asked this morning gesturing at the bright red cable by my desk.

"I'm happy to cooperate with you," I answered him, "but I'm going to need some cooperation from you, too."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Well," I continued, "I'd like you to do your assignments and participate in our class."

"I can't promise that," he told me dismissively.

"Why should I let you use my charger then?" I asked him.

"Isn't that your job?" he replied.

"Actually, charging your iPad is your job," I said. 

He shrugged.

"Give it some thought," I told him. "The charger is right there."

Turns out 5% charge is plenty when you don't plan to do much of anything.

When in Doha

To be honest, the World Cup has hardly been on my radar screen. Sure, I know it's the most watched sporting event in the world, and I had followed with mild interest of the controversial no beer in the stadium policy imposed by the host country, Qatar, at the last minute. I also read the darker reports of the exploitation of foreign workers in the push to get the venues built and running, which was not surprising to me, having lived in Saudi Arabia in the mid-70s and seen first-hand the poor treatment of Pakistani, Korean, Phillipino, and Yemani laborers.

But the competition itself? I had no idea of the groups, let alone the standings in the first stage when I got to school this morning. My mind was on catching up with what I had missed by being out for two days and planning for the formal observation my evaluator had scheduled for third period today.

As soon as the kids came in, though, it was clear that FIFA Fever had swept the school. Instead of sneaking onto game sites, they were checking scores and streaming matches, whispering updates like gossip. 

"Can we watch soccer for our brain break?" one kid finally asked, and I had to agree it was a good idea. Plus, Switzerland and Brazil were scoreless at 63 minutes. Hopp Schwiiz!

Dear Bill

Dear Bill,

By the time you read this, some of the work will be done. You will have made it through without ever having read whatever words of motivation I might muster, because you could. 

Like always, you could. 

Like always, you did.

What Are the Chances?

Three cars left East Market Street at the same time headed for the same destination. One pulled over a few miles later. Another stopped at a light to make a left turn. The third whizzed by while the second was waiting.

The second car encountered an obstacle and rerouted. One of the passengers wanted to stop for water. A few miles later a convenience center appeared on the left. The driver decided to turn. Pulling in they saw the first car.

Three siblings were reunited at what turned out to be a crucial moment.

Surely, this was more than coincidence.

Cold Feet

We walked down to the sandy beach at the end of our street in an effort to beat the rain yesterday afternoon. An unseasonably fair breeze met us as we crested the dune, and both Victor and I kicked off our boots and socks and left them by the picket fence.

"I'm a little worried it's too cold to go barefoot," I said. "I know it's almost 60, but it's still November."

"It's warmer than Iceland in July," he said and headed toward the water.

True enough.

Non-Traditional

Spatchcock the turkey? 

Roll the stuffing into balls?

Mash baked potatoes?

Bake pumpkin cheesecake

and apple-cranberry pie-cake? 

But still: be thankful for all we have.