One of the things that Mom enjoyed watching most was champion paired figure skating. She loved the graceful dance between the couple, the music, and the elegant designs of their outfits.
Though I must say that she also loved any good performance, like this one here by Sasha Cohen at the 2006 Olympics.
Sometimes it's just nice to see winners and their reward.
The great George Burns, 1896-1996. Where was I in 1996? Teaching. But I used to think of so many of his jokes, particularly when I was selling real estate for some reason. "My doctor is dead."
"I don't drink. I don't smoke. I do the other thing."
"I'm the only one left. you're the only one I know that's alive." Though it wasn't said in this interview, it is a good line nonetheless, "Happiness is having a loving, close-knit family in another city." Quoted from the book The Mammoth Book of Zingers, Quips, and One-Liners, Geo Tibballs, 2004. George Burns mentions in the above interview that he thought that Georgie Jessel was the funniest man he'd ever known, even funnier than Groucho Marx. I beg to differ. Though I didn't really know George Jessel's comedy, I thought that Groucho Marx was the funniest. Judge for yourself from this interview. Jessel appears to be a decent storyteller with ironic twists. Prankster, yes, joker, not so much. See him here in an episode of the Jack Benny Show.
Just as way leads onto way, I found this episode of the Burns and Allen Show, co-starring the resonate voice of Harry von Zell. IMDB has an interesting write-up on him. The episode is titled, The Cigarette Girl, which aired on February 5, 1953.
Fred Clark also appears in this episode. What's funny to me is that when I first saw these performers it was the 1960s, actors already at the middle or the end of their career. I just had no idea what kind of career they had before I first saw them. I remember seeing Clark on The Beverly Hillbillies, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and as Moose Moran in the 1951 movie, The Lemon Drop Kid, starring Bob Hope. Well, this little fact on The Lemon Drop Kid was quite interesting. Damon Runyon wrote the story.
He spun humorous and sentimental tales of gamblers, hustlers, actors, and gangsters, few of whom go by "square" names, preferring instead colorful monikers such as "Nathan Detroit", "Benny Southstreet", "Big Jule", "Harry the Horse", "Good Time Charley", "Dave the Dude", or "The Seldom Seen Kid". His distinctive vernacular style is known as "Runyonese": a mixture of formal speech and colorful slang, almost always in present tense, and always devoid of contractions. He is credited with coining the phrase "Hooray Henry", a term now used in British English to describe an upper-class, loud-mouthed, arrogant twit.
If you haven't seen it, you should. And it doesn't hurt that it is available, at least for now, for free on YouTube. I don't know for how long though, so don't miss it while it's up.
4.Say one Hail Mary on each of the next three beads.
5.Say the Glory Be
6.For each of the five decades,
announce the Mystery (perhaps followed by a brief reading from Scripture) then
say the Our Father.
7.While fingering each of the ten beads
of the decade, next say ten Hail Marys while
meditating on the Mystery. Then say a Glory Be.
(After finishing each decade, some say the following prayer requested by the
Blessed Virgin Mary at Fatima: O my Jesus, forgive us our
sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially
those who have most need of your mercy.)
8.After saying the five decades, say
the Hail, Holy Queen, followed by this dialogue and prayer:
V. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.
R. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. Let us pray: O God, whose Only Begotten Son,
by his life, Death, and Resurrection,
has purchased for us the rewards of eternal life,
grant, we beseech thee,
that while meditating on these mysteries
of the most holy Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary,
we may imitate what they contain
and obtain what they promise,
through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.
(A prayer to St. Josephmay
also follow.) Conclude the Rosary with the Sign of the Cross.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit,
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
The history of The Book of Common Prayer is a Protestant book, not one containing Catholic prayers recited in a Catholic mass. "Book of Common Prayer, liturgical book used by churches of the Anglican Communion." For Catholics, our prayerbook is the Roman Catholic Missal.
In keeping with the "going home for the Thanksgiving holiday," the local public radio station has been playing music with "Going home" themes. I love the viola and violins in his piece.
The song above comes from the album Heartland: An Appalachian Anthology.
"The Flower Duet" is sung in Leo Delibes' opera, Lakme. Heard it this morning at 8:09am while driving in the snow. The high pitches mimic the reach for beauty and love, and each time I hear this piece I cry over the loss of a friend I'd known for 18 years.
One of the great pleasures I had while attending UCI was that Catherine used to work at a Chato's Framing Gallery on Walnut Avenue in Pasadena, one block north of Pasadena City College where we both had attended school. Catherine learned a lot about framing and a lot about different artists. I learned by extension. Catherine brought a framed Rembrandt, the one you see above, titled "The Young Woman at Open Half Door," 1645. But I'd always loved this print. In fact, I bought one to put up in the classrooms at the different schools that I taught at. Another artist that I liked was, of course, Gustav Klimt. His "Kiss" is famous but there were others of his work that I loved titled "Sonja Knips 1898."
Catherine framed it up in her shop in Santa Cruz. She drove from Santa Cruz to San Luis Obispo, and I drove from LA to San Luis Obispo where I got the beautifully framed print from her. My mom absolutely loved the print but more so the spectacular frame that Catherine selected and bought.
These are the kinds of cartoons Dad drew. He was quite prolific during [more here] and after the war. For Christmas, he
would draw the head and bust of Santa Claus on the envelope. For our birthdays, he'd draw
something related to birth or something concerning us personally. He was quite
the entertaining communicator.
I can't tell where this shot is taken either. The year looks like 1939 or earlier. The brick siding makes me think it could be somewhere in Denver, but her smile and the sunshine make me think this is in San Gabriel, California. Jimwrote, "She was a beauty! Sure miss her."
This is probably 1940, but I have no idea where this picture is taken. It could be at Josephine's in San Gabriel. That's Jack Pullman that my mom is holding.
[from left to right: Dan, Chuck, Mom, Sally, Mary in arms, Dad, and Charlen. The year is 1953 since that is Mary there as a baby.] Though I do not recognize the neighborhood, it is the front yard of Mom and Dad's old house at 5609 N. Gladys in San Gabriel. The house has since been razed, but that Chinese Elm tree behind them survived. My mom, however, was not a big fan of its thousands of tiny leaves.
The beauty in this piece comes as close to holiness as is humanly possible. Just stunning. The title "Requiem Pie Jesu" translates "Give them rest Holy Jesus." It's a short Catholic Latin mass for the dead. It's beautiful. And the piece is often contrasted to the famous "Dies Irae" or "God's Wrath." I guess that is what happens in death, right, either the soul is treated to eternal rest without condemnation from the living, as in Requiescat in Pace, or the soul is treated to cursing, anger, and wrath, as in "Dies Irae." It makes sense that peace should prevail after the passing of a loved one regardless of how angry we are. I heard the piece tonight on the Colorado Public Radio station in Denver, 88.1. It played at 5:48pm. You can find it on their playlist. The vocal for the piece I heard tonight was Sylvia McNair, and her performance of it was stunning. But when I searched the piece on YouTube, I found this one first without searching for Sylvia McNair. And I am glad I did, for I much prefer this version presented here:
No wonder that it is God, the saints, and every holy act and word that retrieves civilization, as well as the individual, from the brink.
Though I'd listen to this song at least a dozen times, I only just now learned that Dinah Washington, the woman whose beautiful voice carries this song, died at age 39. That is sad. The show notes to the video tell that Dinah was born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama in 1924 and died on December 14, 1963. A commenter writes in the comments section that "When I die, I want this song to play at my funeral." Maybe. But it is so sad that it would have everybody in the chapel or church crying. For funerals, I tend to think that religious songs are better suited.
And how many of us remember "Unforgettable," 1961?
Most folks like the Nat King Cole version. Cole released his version of "Unforgettable" in 1952, a full 9 years prior to Dinah Washington made it a best seller of her own. Cole's voice is terrific. So is Dinah Washington's. The song was written in 1951 by Irving Gordon and then in 1952, Nat King Cole released it on his album. His version of the song is by far the most popular.
I took these shots on Sunday, May 20,
2018.Anyone familiar with the San
Gabriel Canyon Road will recognize this location.It is the San Gabriel River Bike Trail.This was the last time that I was on this
trail.My world was a lot different back
then.I was living in Monterey
Park.I hadn’t heard from my sweet
friend, Joanne, for almost 3 months back then.And though I was doing freelance work, I was barely making ends
meet.I sent these pics at 1:28pm on Sunday, May 20, 2018 to a friend,
saying “Walked San Gabriel River Bike Trail from Duarte to Azusa this
morning.The homeless who now encamp in
the riverbed are growing, turning what was once my childhood playground into a
social problem.Sad.A lot of bike riders on the trail too.I need to be careful.” I've always loved this trail as you can see here, here, here, and here.
To the photo above, Dan penned, "1943, Dad as U.S. Marine at 179 Chestnut Avenue [in San Gabriel, CA]." Find its location here:
Dan posted this on his Facebook page on November 11, 2019, in celebration of Veteran's Day. And though I get the nationalist love of country and the different epochs that define a country, I cringe when I hear the phrase "Thank you for your service." I can't imagine any veteran expecting to be thanked. That kind of takes away from the self-sacrifice of service. And certainly, I don't know of any specific benefit to the person doing the thanking that WWII provided. Freedom? From whom? After WWII, Nazis, and Communists both infiltrated the U.S. government bureaus. People like to cite the fact that we're speaking English instead of German or Japanese or Russian. I guess it would offend too much to tell soldiers and veterans that they were lied to. Though you certainly hear veterans protest against future wars and protest the services they get as veterans from the Veteran's Administration. So I don't know. Mixed signals, I guess. Anyway, Dad looks proud and ready to join the Marines and excited about the transformation the uniform has on him even though it requires him to be away from his wife, Sally, and daughter, Charlen whom you can see below. Charlen looks almost a year old here, so the year could be 1944 with Dad on leave.
Dad enlisted in the US Marine Corp on
August 3rd, 1943 and received an Honorable Discharge on Jan. 20, 1946.
So, my guess this picture was
possibly early 1946, as Mom did not appear pregnant with her 2nd child, due in
Jan. 1947.
I think it is on Westmont Drive in
Alhambra. The exact address I do not have. [Given the rolling hills of the neighborhood, my guess is that the section of Westmont Drive where Mom and Dad lived was in the 1700 block but that's just a guess.]
The car nearest them in the picture
appears to be the 1941 Willys that Mom (according to Dad) purchased from her
earnings from Sears and Roebuck as a
comptometer operator.
Was just
thinking how so much of the upbeat music of the 60s and 70s was really British pop. I was thinking of Dusty Springfield, 1939-1999.
I loved The Kinks. But who can deny American country music for its beauty and simplicity? I love
Dolly Parton. Aside from a sweet voice, musical talent, Parton has a
great deliberateness to the story of her songs. She can take the tragic
life of a young girl and turn it into an enduring tale through
song.
But it was this song that I'd first heard tonight that made me want to listen more to Dolly. Thanks to Bob Higgs. "The sky is green and the grass is blue" is almost a Wallace Stevens poem. Beautiful imagery to help wake up the senses.
I went to sleep last night thinking
about you, I woke up this morning still thinking about you. When I'm down, I
whisper your name to myself and smile. I still love you, don't doubt
it.
On September 27, 2019, I lost my dearest friend.
Joanne Quintos Baltazar, 1974-2019.
One of Joanne's favorite songs early on when I met her was Enrique Iglesias' "Hero." I was jealous that she loved him and his voice more than mine. But she adored Enrique, his voice, and his song.
Her favorite TV show was Friends as though no other show existed. Joey delighted her, but she was tickled by all the characters. I think Joanne's mom was good at commenting on what the characters did and said, so I knew Joanne had fun watching and commenting on the characters with her family. I enjoyed listening to her talk about a show and characters that I did not follow.
When I think of Joanne, it's these songs that console me the most.
About the song above, a commenter wrote, "When I die, I want this song to play at my funeral." Hard to argue with that. On October 7, 2019, a 1:01am, I wrote to a friend,
Well, it just goes
to show that I can't read people worth a shit. Joanne really did have
cancer. I really didn't know her life in the last few years. Hadn't
seen her since March 2015. She insinuated that she was interested/dating someone
else. Though her voice sounded familiar on the phone, I think she was saying
things to me that were, in effect, goodbyes. She passed on September
27. My last text exchange with her was September 6th. My jealousies
being what they were made me think that she was pregnant and making arrangements
to marry a coworker. Turns out she was sick and was saying goodbye to
people. Two months ago she asked if I wanted to live with her. It never
sounded serious. She came to terms with dying; proof that she had courage. Resentment marbled in her concerns. Maybe it was the last-minute play for something resembling a sacrament of
love. I don't know. Life is pretty fucked. I even blocked her
number because she wasn't returning my calls. I blocked her sister's
number too but her sister got through to my number with a few texts and then
the phone call 10 days ago on Friday morning,September 27 that Joanne had passed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
On October 7, 2019, at 1:46am, he answered,
Sorry for your loss. I know you loved her.
To which I replied at 6:04am,
Thanks, _______. I do love her.
She knows it. She was only 45. That's only half a lifetime. I was
lucky to have told her that I loved her in the last few months. I didn't
realize how sick she was. A few pics she sent me she looked healthy. But
apparently, her pics were putting her best face despite her predicament.
Of all the women I've known, it was she who solicited the tenderest feelings
from me. Being with her was always so calming, so thoughtful, and so
sweet.
This bitter earth
Well, what a fruit it bears
What good is love
Mmm, that no one shares
And if my life is like the dust
Ooh, that hides the glow of a rose
What good am I
Heaven only knows
Lord, this bitter earth
Yes, can be so cold
Today you're young
Too soon, you're old
But while a voice within me cries
I'm sure someone may answer my call
And this bitter earth
Ooh, may not, oh, be so bitter after all
This song above most, not all others, but above most captures for me the bitterness of losing best friends. The gentle but sad violins capture the extended grief from losing people we love as though the background music to life and its struggles is only sorrow. And yet there are soul-murdering family members who won't let me grieve. Not to worry. Thankfully, there are only a handful of sociopaths above ground.
When I think of her life, Elton John's song, "Your Song," (1971), plays in my head. The lyrics are beautiful and applicable to all friends, I guess. It's the line that says "I don't have much money, but if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live." Oh, and, of course, the refrain, "How wonderful life is while you're in the world." "Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."
And then there is the adoring song by Roberta Flack, "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," 1972, that I would have loved to dance to with my wife at our wedding. But alas, I am the goat in a very Greek sense.
Joanne loved the 2014
film, John Wick. Formulaic.
Cute. But as far as the plot was concerned, too predictable. But
this is what people like.
When we
first met, Joanne shared with me that it was the movie The Thornbirds that
influenced her intensely as a 9-year-old.
And, of
course, when she invited me to see The Lord of The Rings, I felt at that moment
that she was declaring her interest in me. That was right around 2001 when we
first started dating.
Joanne was such a
dedicated teacher, committing several hours in the evening to grading and
designing lesson plans for the next day or for the week. She always justified the sacrifices.I told her to
not commit so many hours to grading since no one cares about that work.She retorted that she has to, that the
administration comes into her room to inspect the presentations pinned to the
bulletin boards. She was an excellent
teacher.The kids loved her.She loved the affectionate responses she’d
get from older kids whom she taught when they were in the 2nd and 5th
grades.That Roosevelt Middle School did
not deserve her.She should have
committed to some other trade.But she
liked the lifestyle that the money she earned could afford her.She liked to travel.She raved about Hawaii, citing its beauty and
lushness, and how she wished that she’d been married while visiting there. POSTED ON MONDAY, MARCH 23, 2020On Monday, April 1, 2019, I sent Joanne a song that I'd heard up here on the Colorado Public Radio station, 88.1. It is a beautiful song, but Joanne's reply was lukewarm, like everything that she'd shared with me from March to September 2019. Here is the song:
Here is our exchange. On Monday, April 1, 2019, at 6:54pm, I wrote to Joanne,
Last week, this tune "Cherry
Blossom" played on Colorado public radio station while I was driving to
work in the morning night. I had only the radio; no visual of the quartet
or the instruments. Just music. The cello sounded buoyantly hopeful
against despair of unspeakable loss before the relief of the soothing western
notes from the viola. Living up here on the Plains made me think the song was
about the adult joys of reliving happy moments shared with our parents in
childhood and the gratitude over their influence on us. The viola player at the
right, who is half Japanese and half Italian, wrote the piece and grew up in
Billings, Montana. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=r1VaduyMExwr.
On Tuesday, April 2, 2019, at 8:34am, she replied
The Cherry Blossom piece had a
beautiful melody. I could see why you would think that. The melody
sounds similar to an instrumental piece I heard that was played by a quartet in
the movie "Titanic."
These men played this music to
help calm the people as the ship was about to go down at the bottom of the
sea. Too bad I don't know the name of it.
On Tuesday, April 2, 2019, at 8:41am., she followed up with this,
Oh, I looked up the name of the
song. It's called "Nearer my God to thee." This too is a
lovely piece but quite somber. What do you think of the piece?
I've posted it here.
And after enduring the 3, short minutes, I came to realize that Joanne felt love and beauty in the presence of sorrow and tragedy, as though loving unhappy events prepared her and protected her from it. I don't know. She spoke so lovingly of her grandfather, and the most intense memory of him was how he held her and made her feel loved; that, and his passing. Like love and tragedy were inextricably intertwined. So if she loved someone, she also expected misfortune from it, like some kind of bad Romeo and Juliet tableau constructed in her mind. It may be true that she was beset by misfortune or unpleasant experiences and times during her life, like on Ricardo Street and while her dad was away in the Philippines, but it doesn't seem like enough good things replaced the bad memories. And I cite movies like The Thornbirds and The Titanic that she cited as examples of cinematic beauty. The Thornbirds, yes, there was a beauty. Rachel Ward, gorgeous, and Richard Chamberlin, handsome, were both good-looking actors and top of their field at that time in 1983. She cited the movie, the characters, and the romantic drama with me often. In 1983, Joanne was all of about 9 years old. I was 26. Two different world views. But either out of love or in admiration for end-of-life things, like she had a romanticism for, even an affection, for tragic experiences. I don't know but it seems that way, particularly after watching The Thornbirds and this clip from The Titanic, both with unhappy, sorrowful endings. There isn't much time in life, so we must be the best we can be and deliver the best we have. I want to honor Joanne for her immeasurable ability to love someone. She had a big heart. She loved her dad terribly. It bordered on the holy, it was so beautiful. Joanne loved movies. That was how she spent most of her richer moments with her family was through movies. So, too, was it for me, that some of the best times we shared were with movies. She endured a 2002 movie I wanted to see by John Sayles, called Sunshine State. The acting was good, the cast was good, and the scenery of Florida was also beautiful, but the message or theme of the film was lackluster. Wikipedia gets it right, it's a commentary on "race . . . and commercial property development," two topics that were far removed from me. Will I be called a racist for admitting that? Should I care more about OTHER people and their welfare? I don't recall the first movie that I went to see with Joanne, but it could have been The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring in 2001. Though I liked the movie a lot, I did feel while watching it that she was trying to move me toward Protestant Fundamentalism. That was my anxiety. But she was hoping that I would catch the bug of loving Christ the same way that she did. We saw the movie at the Alhambra Edwards Stadium Cinema and we sat at the back because the place was a bit crowded.
In 2002, we saw the second installment of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Strange coincidence in that the Twin Towers in New York had been brought down on September 11, 2001. We saw this movie in Cerritos at the Cerritos Town Plaza, and I came out of the theater animated by some of the themes in the movie, like environmentalism with the trees talking, not unlike in The Wizard of Oz. Joanne appreciated my comments about that and I was surprised by her appreciation since most things about me seemed tiresome to her. Joanne loved movies. An actress whom she loved was Angelina Jolie in her role as Evelyn Salt in the 2010 movie, Salt.
Joanne liked Jolie because she said that Jolie represented a strong female character. And that was true. It is true--we all need strong male and female characters in our lives. When I was growing up, it was Daniel Boone, Davey Crocket, Jim Thorpe, John Wayne, Bruce Lee, and others. In sports, it was Jerry West, John Havlicek, Joe Kapp of the Minnesota Vikings, Alan Page, Sandy Koufax, Tom Haller, Don Drysdale, Ron Peronoski, Claude Osteen, and others.
In the movie, Jolie plays a CIA operative who is being tortured as the story opens.
Joanne loved Cameron's Seafood on Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena. She'd always order the same thing: Wild Caught Atlantic Salmon, au gratin potatoes, and coleslaw. She also liked their ceviche appetizer. She really did love seafood. For her, it was more than food. It was loving memories with family and friends. I loved the intimacy of the place when I'd eat here at 4pm or so after work. Not many people were in. The place was quiet.
We spent one day together up in Santa Barbara, and I think the highlight of that day for her was eating a salmon dinner with clam chowder in a restaurant on the pier that looked out over the coastline. I miss being in her presence, the presence of someone who really loved good food.
Her other favorite place to eat was Izzy's in Santa Monica. She loved their turkey gumbo and the ample portions of meat on the corned beef on rye sandwiches. Talking about this now reminds me of happier times.
I loved Izzy's, too, for several reasons, one of which was that it was open 24 hours. During my semester breaks, I would occasionally drive from San Gabriel to Santa Monica at 1:30, grab a corned beef on rye, and devour it on my drive back. It was one of those exclusive moments--healthy or not--that was all mine. Didn't have to share it with anyone else who might spoil it for me.
I once took her to Gladstones in Malibu, where we both had bouillabaisse. I loved it, and I think she did too.
One other outing we had was in Santa Barbara, where we walked State Street, walked the beachfront with all the artist wares, and then had lunch at a seafood place on the pier, called the Harbor Restaurant. She loved that. I did too. Joanne loved clam chowder, and if it came in a sourdough bread bowl her experience was even more special.
She was driving a 1999 Saturn when I met her.
I asked Joanne what she thought of this song, and she said it was haunting which it certainly is. But I thought that not all beauty was John Williams. [Posted Saturday, October 8, 2022]
Whenever I hear this song, I wish that Joanne were sitting with me, next to me in the car.
And it was this song that had me crying, "Joanne, don't go without me." I love you and miss you. [Saturday, March 18, 2023.]
Posted on Wednesday, April 12, 2023, the 35th anniversary of my dad's death.
Joanne had really beautiful sensibilities when it came to music. I played her a song by Capercaille once and she noted how much the melody sounded like a lullaby.
I played her Samuel Barber's Adagio with strings and she did not like it, too haunting for her she said. She was right. She was right. I liked it because it called up the haunting depths of tragedy, failure, and heartbreak that made up my existence. I have never been able to get that idea of it being haunting out of my mind. I love you, Joanne. And I am sorry. She really was the best thing that I'd had in my life without a doubt. The sweetest, most endearing person I'd ever known.
I think that Joanne would like this tune.
Will never forget the time I took her down to San Diego and we stopped at the Hotel Coronado. But on the way down, we stopped for breakfast in Del Mar. I wanted her to have the whole South Beach experience possible.
