Singing along

The Proclaimers, singing:

“My heart was broken / My heart was broken / Sorrow / Sorrow …”

Samuel: “My heart isn’t broken.”

John-Paul: “Oh, no? Why not?”

Samuel: “Because I always follow the rules of the road.”

Some of his interpretations are rather literal.

(The Proclaimers are wearing good pants.)

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Samuel has finished reading the Babar omnibus and is halfway through Little House in the Big Woods (which I first read only last year). Some days, he reads more than the required amount. He has caught the fire. His abuelo pays him $2 per completion.

He’s a good little (mercenary) book reader, but he’s too hard on the spines.

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Abel now stands.

Daniel sings along with my Spotify favorites. Most are wordless, so he has to sing the violin parts (for instance). He has a favorite Beethoven piece: the “Turkish March” from The Ruins of Athens. I’ve known it all my life but only just realized it was Beethoven’s.

O Christmas tree

We erected and decorated our waist-high plastic Christmas tree.

Karin was dissatisfied. The tree stank. The cats had peed on it in the storage-room.

So, Karin’s friend, Nora, lent us a taller plastic tree. Samuel and Daniel decorated it.

Almost all the ornaments now hang from the bottom third of that tree.

(Some have been smashed.)

We put gifts under the tree. Samuel has been tearing off the wrappers.

Lots of pictures of Beethoven

When I wrote that Samuel’s been saying “Beethoven is so sleepy,” I didn’t realize he’d go on talking about Beethoven for days and days. When Samuel gets sad, he says, “Beethoven is so sad.” When he’s scared, he says, “Beethoven is so scared.” When he pulls my hair, he says, “Don’t pull Beethoven’s hair.”

Beethoven has become the all-purpose surrogate.

When Samuel wants breakfast, he says: “Let’s go to the kitchen, Beethoven.” “Have some candy corn, Beethoven.” (I’m not sure when we last had candy corn in the house. I think our supply was eaten by the mice.)

Really, what kid wouldn’t be obsessed with Beethoven. There’s the music, of course – Samuel’s favorite compilation is Beethoven for Babies – and then there’s this portrait that comes up on Spotify.

I wondered what Beethoven looked like in other pictures.

I found some.

Little boy Beethoven. Not so unlike Samuel.

Youthful Beethoven.

(These are from the chronological sequence on this webpage.)

Beethoven standing by a park bench.

Beethoven resembling Marcelo Bielsa.

Brooding Beethoven.

A bust of Beethoven: no doubt, the one on Schroeder’s piano.

This artist, Hadi Karimi, makes 3-D likenesses of famous people. Beethoven, appropriately, is a subject.

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My school friend, Hoku, has brought his family for a visit, one county to the north of us. I’ll do my utmost to see him.

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Now, some sadder news. Our congressional representative, Jackie Walorski, died in a car crash today. The South Bend Tribune published this report.

Beethoven is so sleepy

Sweltering heat this week. So, no mowing.

And then, much rain – especially, these last three days. So, again, no mowing; but the grass certainly has kept on growing.

Our neighbors mowed when the weather permitted. Alas, during those all-too-brief interludes, I was indisposed to mow. Everyone else’s lawns were made much tidier than our lawn. Today, one of our neighbors took it upon himself to mow our lawn – the front, but not the back.

I am actively reading at least seventeen books. How did I get into this mess.

As I type this, on my bed, Daniel performs his night-time ritual, which is to lie next to me, shrieking, until I am able to bring up Spotify and put on some nice Vangelis or Beethoven or Brian Eno. Then he rolls onto his side and brings his hand forward to touch my shirt. He sucks his pacifier and quickly goes to sleep.

In his crib, in the dark, Samuel comments: Beethoven is so tired. Beethoven is so sleepy.

Yes, he is.

Beethoven at bedtime

Our flimsiest bookcase is in the bedroom. Should Mishawaka’s earth shake at night, I’ll be pummelled by the novels of Dorothy Sayers. Some of them – The Five Red Herrings, Have His Carcase, Gaudy Night – are rather large.

(Josephine Tey’s books also are on the highest shelf.)

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Less bulky but also forceful is Beethoven at Bedtime, which Karin & I play to lull Samuel to sleep. On a good night, he’ll lose consciousness by the third track, “Piano Concerto No. 5 in E Flat Major” (which I know from Picnic at Hanging Rock).

This evening, however, he protests through most of the album. Karin turns on the “mood” light. I know that trick, too, protests Samuel, and he bleats all the louder.

And then something appears hilarious to him. He laughs and laughs.

Finally, he sleeps to Joe Baker’s Sound of Summer Rain.

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I continue to apply for work (usually after Samuel has gone to sleep). My current effort is directed toward a college in Nevada. The campus has three regular faculty and twenty adjunct lecturers. Onsite teaching is done after hours in a high school building. I would be delighted to get this job.