Monthly Archives: September 2017

“pure naturalness and truth”

 

“[P]ure naturalness and truth, in whatever age, still find their time and their place.”

— Michel de Montaigne

 

So do I believe.

And earnestly wish.

I myself have strived to achieve “pure naturalness and truth” in my writing. Here and elsewhere. In writings and communiques, public and private.

Some narrow minded, mean spirited critics, who feel it incumbent upon themselves to keep an eagle eye on this site, feel otherwise. They are always carping and finding fault. They never have a complimentary word for my writing. In fact, incredibly, they find me to be pompous and feel that I pay fast and loose with “the truth,” as they see it. This, they feel, makes them entitled to correct and scold me, instead of offering constructive criticism.

My most admired writers, those whom I wish to emulate, include, along with Montaigne, Samuel Johnson and (in various works, including prose) Walt Whitman.  It’s unlikely that my detractors are well acquainted with their works.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

two letters of condolence; and how (in my opinion) to write one

 

Two letters of condolence are posted here:

from my father to the wife of a deceased relative

from me to the wife of high school classmate of mine

 

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Dad's letter of condolence.jpg

 

my father, Alan W. Smith

December 1971

 

Dear Carolyn,

I don’t know when I’ve been so saddened by news as I was at that of Arthur’s death. We saw at the marina and Chart Room [where my father was pianist], just one small segment of his activities, I know, yet when I think of the way the room lighted up when he entered, I realize what a void there will be in many, many places.

Elinor and I extend our deepest sympathy to you.

With affection,

Alan Smith

 

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Roger Smith to Carol Minkwitz [a high school classmate, wife of Russell Minkwitz]

October 2015

 

Dear Carol,

Hello. I had some contact with Bob Seavey via email this weekend. I wanted to get in touch with him.

I heard back from him about Russ’s passing. In high school, we used to call him Rusty.

I was awfully sad to hear the news. It has affected me all day. I knew Russ was very ill, since you told me about it at our 50th reunion. I knew he had ALS, a terrible disease, as we all know. Still, his death comes as a shock.

I remember Russ from our 45th reunion. He was one of the people I was most glad to see. He looked great then, and no doubt no one knew then of his impending illness.

You know, at events like a reunion, you can be a bit apprehensive about seeing people again after all those years. With Russ, I felt completely at ease right off the bat. I was so glad to see him. He was so friendly, so well spoken. He made it plain that he was glad to see me.

And, of course I remember Russ from high school. What do I remember about him? That he was handsome, a great athlete, and a very good student. He was a true scholar-athlete.

What else do I remember about him? Russ was a truly nice person. He was soft spoken and modest. He never had a bad word to say about anyone. He was good natured in general and took kidding well.

We were in Mr. Badoian’s math class together (along with you), and Russ really liked the class and Mr. Badoian. (I think math was his favorite subject.) Mr. Badoian, in turn, liked Russ. When he found out that Russ had a girlfriend, he used to kid him about it. Russ, as usual, took the teasing modestly and well.

At our 45th reunion, Russ told me a little about his student days at Penn State. He played under Coach Paterno, I believe. He said he really regretted quitting football because of an injury. I appreciated Russ’s candor. I could relate to what he said because there are things I regret (don’t we all) not having done when I was young, when I had the opportunity.

I can’t imagine what a loss it must be to you, Carol. I am truly sorry. I hope your children and grandchildren can be some consolation to you.

I have great memories of Russ, who was one of my favorite classmates. Please know that he lives on in my memory.

I will make it a point from here on to stay in touch with you.

Warmest regards,

Roger

 

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My advice for writing such letters:

keep it simple

don’t say or invent things that are not true

don’t effuse, especially if you didn’t know the person well

use details, especially those that call the person to mind

Don’t effuse. Note that my father observed this principle in his letter, but he wrote a kind letter that was not cold or impersonal.

Use details, especially those that call the person to mind. This last principle seems to often get overlooked. It is my belief that these little details give comfort. And, the letter writer is giving a kind of offering, better than flowers. Because, if you can think of details about the deceased person that you remember with pleasure, and you share them with that person’s family, they will have something to add to their store of memories. Such details can be comforting and help to preserve the person’s memory.

An example of this last principle (use details) is provided by a eulogy by her former minister given at my mother’s memorial service in 1973. It was not a letter of condolence — it was a eulogy delivered in a memorial service — but the minister’s words on that occasion are worth quoting. He said:

I can remember Elinor sitting with Alan [my father was church organist] each Sunday in the balcony of the First Parish Unitarian Church of Canton. I felt she was cheering me on, and I never really got over the disappointment of not seeing her there, during the years of her illness.

I can remember Monday mornings spent over a cup of tea in the Smith kitchen. The warmth of that kitchen was Elinor’s warmth: it was the warmth and strength of her concern and her caring. Were I to return to that room now, I would still feel it.

I too remember my mother’s kitchen. But, what the minister said reinforced and strengthened that memory, and I was very glad to realize that others felt the same way about the special place she made it.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

 

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Addendum:

RWS condolence letter 10-20-2018

I have added here (above) as a Word document another letter of condolence written by me. I think it shows how to write a letter of condolence when the deceased individual is someone whose family you have not been acquainted with for a long while.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   October 2018

“3rd Ave. El”

 

My good friend Bill Dalzell, who introduced me to art films, recently called my attention to a film he loved from his early days in New York City in the 1950’s: 3rd Ave. El, directed by Carson (Kit) Davidson. The film comprises a portrait of the Third Avenue Elevated Railway in New York City, filmed in 1955. A rare print was preserved by the Academy Film Archive.

The music, as my friend Bill pointed out, is Haydn’s Concerto in D, played by harpsichordist Wanda Landowska.

The film is on YouTube. (See link to YouTube clip below.)

I was disappointed that the footage is grainy. But, the film, which lasts for something like twelve minutes, gives a wonderful feeling for New York City in the 1950’s. It conveys what I love about the City and is still, despite gentrification, true: its grittiness and its authenticity; the people; their authenticity; the open display by New Yorkers of a sort of primal enjoyment of life despite seeming to be wearing a “mask” of anonymity.

With the music, the film gives me a high. It, NYC, bubbles up.

The film has a Whitmanesque (that’s Walt Whitman) feeling about it. Great joyousness. It inspires the same feelings Whitman had for his beloved Mannahatta: its people, its pavements and buildings, its sheer energy.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

 

“3rd Ave. El”

 

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addenda:

After three years involved with World War II and four involved with Antioch College, Carson Davidson arrived in New York bent on making films. Usual story — washing dishes at a Bickford’s Cafeteria by night, knocking on producers’ doors by day. Finally, a job with a jaunty outfit called Dynamic Films, doing whatever needed doing. Nobody actually taught him anything, but they answered questions cheerfully, and that’s all that’s really needed.

Fascinated by the 3rd Ave El, he borrowed a company camera and started shooting in his spare time. The resultant film was turned down by every distributor in New York except the last on the list, a crazy Russian who then owned the Paris Theater. He paid for blowing it up to 35 mm and played it for seven months along with an Alec Guinness feature. Actually put the short subject on the marquee — unheard of then or now.

http://www.afana.org/davidsoncarson.htm

 

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The IRT Third Avenue Line, commonly known as the Third Avenue El and the Bronx El, was an elevated railway in Manhattan and the Bronx, New York City. Originally operated by the New York Elevated Railway, … it was acquired by the Interborough Rapid Transit Company (IRT) and eventually became part of the New York City subway system.

The first segment of the line, with service at most stations, opened from South Ferry to Grand Central Depot on August 26, 1878. Service was extended to Harlem in Manhattan on December 30 of the same year. Service in Manhattan was phased out in the early 1950’s and closed completely on May 12, 1955. It ended in the Bronx on April 29, 1973.

The Third Avenue El was the last elevated line to operate in Manhattan, other than the number 1 train on the IRT Broadway–Seventh Avenue Line, which has elevated sections between 122nd and 135th Streets and north of Dyckman Street. Service on the Second, Sixth and Ninth Avenue El lines was terminated in 1942, 1938, and 1940, respectively.

source: Wikipedia

Roger Smith on his early years

 

‘Roger W. Smith on his early years’

 

In May 1997, my niece Cary Smith asked me to answer the following questions as part of a school project she had been assigned. My answers follow.

In rereading my response, I am myself surprised and pleased with myself to see how much I remembered from my own childhood.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

 

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1. What was life like when you were a child?

We had to wear different undershirts (not T-shirts) and we had to wear flannel leggings which were itchy when we went out to play in the snow. We wore caps with snaps around the chin. We had no TV and a big radio (console) in the living room that I used to listen to on Saturday mornings. Cowboys and cowboy guns were very popular with almost all kids (including girls). Kids used to love to dress up in cowboy clothes and to wear toy guns with holsters (and toy bullets, preferably silver).

The cars had a funny car smell to them. They had running boards and were curved on top and were not at all compact. (Today, they would be called “gas guzzlers.”) You could take streetcars practically everywhere: they were made of wood, not steel. A streetcar or subway ride cost a nickel.

It was easy to get carsick and there were no superhighways, so it took about twice as long to get everywhere — — like about two hours by car to my grandmother’s in Danvers, a trip that would be about an hour today.

A lot of dress up clothes were woolen, such as kids’ suits. We wore suits to church on Sunday. Girl s wore dresses a lot (to school), but it was okay for them to wear pants for play.

They still had steam trains: I remember taking one to Danvers, Mass. (my mother’s hometown) from North Station in Boston. It was really huffing and puffing (I recall that before we boarded).

Once my father took us all out to dinner on Mother’ s Day. It was rare to go out to eat. We went to an Italian restaurant in the North End. I bet the whole meal for the family was less than $10, well not more than $20 (at least). Julius Larosa (an Italian singer) was very popular. So were “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” “Side by Side,” and a lot of other corny songs. Rock-and-roll really hadn’t been invented yet. Johnny Mathis was also very popular, and Pat Boone soon would be (in around 1956).

Gene Autry was real popular. So was the Lone Ranger. And people were afraid of the Reds (as Russian communists were then called).

There was a popular TV show called “I Led Three Lives” about a man who was continually fighting against Russian spies, but he worked undercover. and no one but his wife knew what he was really doing.

People still got the electric chair a lot (death penalty): it wasn’t in the news all that much, but it was scary to contemplate, and I recall that crime and jail seemed pretty awesome and scary (but not attractive to me personally). I remember reading about the Brinks robbery, which was a big deal when it happened in Boston (in around 1954).

I remember the big black headlines the day Red Sox first baseman Harry Agganis, a recent college graduate and former football star from Boston College, died of a heart condition — — I believe the headline said, “Harry Agganis is Dead!” It seemed so sad that it was impressive.

TV started getting popular when I was 7 or 8 or so. but we didn’t get a TV until slightly later. “Howdy Doody” was an incredibly popular TV show that every kid loved. I thought Phineas T. Bluster, a cranky old guy (puppet) with side whiskers, was a riot. Everyone loved the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Later the Disney show The Mouseketeers was a big hit. Everyone wanted to join the Mickey Mouse Club and everyone was in love with Annette Funicello. Davy Crockett was enormously popular, and every kid (every boy, at least) had to have a coonskin cap. Later (like everyone else), I was enthralled by the quiz shows and couldn’t believe anyone could actually win the incredible, unfathomable sum of 64.000 dollars (Someone finally actually did, to my astonishment.) I remember watching American Bandstand (and a precursor show on local Boston TV) in the mid- to late-50’s and thinking, these kids are incredibly cool, as I thought were DJ’s (disk jockeys). “Cool” was a popular word then, and no one wanted to be thought “square.”

A lot of people still washed their hair with soap. I thought we were getting sort of fancy and felt a little sissy-ish using Breck’s shampoo, which was popular then. A haircut cost about fifty cents. I remember when it went up to seventy-five and then eighty-five cents and everyone was scandalized. We boys took a bath about once or twice a week (never a shower; we didn’t have one).

Hardly anyone was divorced, and practically no mothers worked. Most people seemed to have a minimum of three kids. And a family of four kids like ours seemed to be the norm. Most people’s moms (mine included) seemed to prepare a lot of convenience foods (frozen vegetables. canned corn, Campbell’s soups. canned pork and beans. canned brown bread. fish sticks. hot dogs, canned spaghetti sauce, frozen strawberries, etc.).

In school, you still had to learn to write using the Palmer method and using scratchy pens with pointy tips and inkwells. The desks and seats in elementary school were wooden and we had a coat rack with wooden pegs to hang our coats on. We moved to a fancier new school in high school where the desk tops were shiny (sort of a laminated wood) and very new and spanky looking. Wooden sleds were pretty popular when I was a kid. The baseball suits were wool or flannel and scratchy.

It was lots of fun to play cowboys and Indians and sometimes tie other kids up to a tree, or hide and seek.

When my grandfather came to visit, he would sometimes give me a dollar and that seemed like a fortune.

 

2. How were holidays celebrated?

Holidays were celebrated pretty much the same as they are today. Thanksgiving was always a special holiday in New England and we would have a large family gathering and plenty of food. Another big and fun day was Patriot’ s Day (April 19): I remember once being impressed by seeing two men on real horses reenact Paul Revere’s ride on the Cambridge Common.

Once when I was around five or six, I went to a real Mayday celebration with a maypole and all. It was a beautiful spring day and I never forgot it. I remember being thrilled because there were pony rides and you could really get on and ride a real horse (albeit a little one).

Christmas was special. I was very excited to get presents. I loved to go to Jordan Marsh, the big department store in downtown Boston, and look at the display in the toy department. They always had a great display of electric trains, which were very big then. We had a set of Lionel trains. It was also very exciting to go see Santa Claus at Jordan Marsh’s (when I was young enough to do so). I also remember the Christmas carols, which thrilled me to the core. And I once remember getting a hobby horse and wishing it could be real (and wishing that wishing could make it so) and trying to feed it shredded wheat cereal (hoping it would eat it like a real horse).

 

3. What big events in history do you remember?

I remember when I heard church bells tolling one summer evening around 1953 (I was seven) and asked my mother what they were for and my mother said, “oh, the Korean War must be over — — that’s good.”

I remember my mother being very excited to watch the hearings involving Senator McCarthy in 1954.

I remember when then Senator Kennedy made a speech at the 1956 Democratic convention (he tried unsuccessfully to get the vice presidential nomination) and I asked my mother who he was. I couldn’t get over how messy his hair looked!

I remember Khrushchev (no one trusted him) and before that the Eisenhower-Stevenson election of 1956. Most of my friends were for Stevenson and I was proud to be on the side of Ike, the winner (because my parents were then Republicans). I remember the I Like Ike buttons. I also liked Nixon then. He seemed to be a solid American, like my parents.

 

4. What important inventions have been invented since you were a child?

The personal computer, color TV, fax machines, electronic typewriters, cordless phones, touchtone phones — there are millions of things: I probably overlooked most of them.

 

5. Did any of the wars affect you at all? In what way?

Yes, the Vietnam War affected me big time. It still is a somewhat painful memory for me. I was very opposed to it and became a conscientious objector. so I was directly affected. All my friends were opposed to it: most found a way to beat the draft.

 

6. Beyond school, what did you participate in as a child?

I loved to play outside with my brother Pete and friends (mostly the latter; Pete was often too busy with his own friends for me).

I was in Little League for a while. I was a Cub Scout for a while.

I went to the Congregational Church and was enrolled in Sunday school.

I took dancing lessons once. (I was already about nine or ten years old, at least.)

I took piano lessons for a short while (also drums, and even guitar for a very little while; I practically forgot).

From the age of about nine on, I loved baseball, both playing and as a fan of the Red Sox (big time).

I always liked to read.

 

7. What elective courses did your schools offer you from middle school on up?

Hardly anything (elective, that is) other than French was available. From the seventh grade on. It was not well taught, however, until my freshman year in high school.

In high school, there were some elective courses. I particularly liked languages, French and Latin.

I also took typing as an elective course and that was a BIG help to me professionally later on.

 

8. What did soda, candy, and fast food cost when you were young?

Soda was a nickel for a bottle. There were no cans. Drugstore soda fountains were very popular then. A coke cost a nickel there too. A lime rickey (which I loved) was fifteen cents. I think a banana split was seventy-five cents. An ice cream cone would have been twenty-five cents tops (for a giant cone), but ordinarily it was about a dime.

A comic book (you didn’t ask that) was about a dime, later went up to twelve cents.

You could get syrup in your soda at a drugstore and thereby have something like a cherry Coke, vanilla Coke, etc. I liked trying them.

You could return your bottles for a two cents deposit. I don’t know if this price was added on to the nickel price (I think not), but I do recall getting what is now called Classic Coke in a bottle out of a machine for five cents. They had a wooden rack next to the machine for you to put the empty bottles back in.

Candy bars were a nickel (as was a pack of bubble gum with baseball cards), and I believe they were much bigger than now. You could get big pieces of candy (mint juleps, root beer barrels) for a penny.

The movies cost fifteen cents.

There really wasn’t any such thing as fast food. The closest thing was Howard Johnson’ s, where you could get ice cream cones (28 flavors!) and basic food like French fries, fried clams, and hamburgers. A hamburger probably cost about fifty cents.

There was a place in downtown Boston called Joe and Nemo’s that had cheap hot dogs and hamburgers. I recall that the hot dogs were ten cents and the hamburgers were about the same (maybe fifteen cents). And the White Tower chain was around even then, I believe. Hamburgers cost about fifteen cents there.

McDonald’s came to Massachusetts in the Sixties, I believe. When I first went there (in the late 60’s), a hamburger cost nineteen cents (considered cheap even then)!

 

9. When you were a teenager, what kinds of clothes were worn?

Black high-topped sneakers (basketball shoes); the low cut sneakers would usually be worn only around or for boating places/purposes.

Dungarees. Madras shirts.

Bermuda shorts with a sort of madras design.

V- neck sweaters; Orlon (a synthetic fabric) was popular then and was quite light and comfortable.

Loafers.

Chino pants (sort of baggy).

Cotton shirts; lots of things made out of cotton. Windbreakers and leather jackets.

 

10. What do you remember about me was a baby?

I can scarcely remember anything since you were born and raised (at that time) in California and I didn’t get to see you until you were about eight years old. I only saw your baby picture and thought you were very cute, and heard stories about you from your dad and aunt about how lively, fun, and cute you were and how you had quite an amusing and individual personality.

 

— A Report for Cary Emerson Smith, written by Roger Whittredge Smith, May 14, 1997

suits of armor

 

I saw an art film once about Lancelot and the Knights of the Round Table.

They were always fighting with lances and getting knocked off their horses. Ending up in the dust with cracked bones.

Their armor was clunky and unwieldy. It had to be put on and taken off (takes forever).

When going to bed. Making love.

I thought to myself, some people are like that.

They wear, figuratively speaking, an unwieldy suit of armor. Chain mail. They almost never take it off.

Another way to put it is that there’s a shell, a carapace, around them. In which they are incased.

Yet, underneath all that is a genuine caring, feeling person. A sincere, authentic person. Their sincerity is compelling and touching.

A sensitive person. Sensitive, vulnerable people who are capable of great feeling. Who care deeply about and for others.

Who can love, yet have often been hurt.

Who must have been deeply hurt.

No one can break through their armor.

Poor things!

 

— Roger W. Smith

  September 2017

Once a contrarian …

 

I have always been a contrarian, ever since my childhood. I just didn’t realize it.

My personal intellectual hero is the most famous contrarian of all time: Samuel Johnson.

I have always been a contrarian.  I have always tended to think everything through for myself and to form my own opinions.

When I was growing up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, there would be a sign on the front of our church in the summer reading: closed for July and August. This didn’t seem right to me. Most of my friends were Catholic. They went to mass every week.

The Catholic churches never closed.

I thought: if religion is so important in the life of mankind, how can it be UNimportant in July and August as opposed to November or December?

 

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The following are the five WORST statements of mine — things I have opined from my young adulthood to later years — so adjudged by members of my nuclear family.

that I preferred to read whatever authors I wanted to and didn’t like reading assigned books in college (age 21)

that all prisoners should be released (in my early 20’s)

that I didn’t like Miami Dolphins coach Don Shula

that I didn’t think much of The New Yorker

that I think the New York Times editorials are boring and written in committee-speak

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

how to FAIL in business (small businesses, that is)

 

Recently, on a trip to Massachusetts, I had the miserable experience of losing the keys to a rental car. I was frantic. The car was parked in a garage in Boston. I called the rental car company in desperation. I was thinking they would have another set of keys. They were useless — hard to reach (one gets a robophone), and totally unhelpful.

I eventually got through to a PERSON. A woman whom I spoke with said that I had to get a locksmith to make new keys. She gave me the phone number of a couple of locksmiths.

The first locksmith I called was based in a suburb of Boston. He had a foreign accent. He seemed difficult to deal with from the get go, like the kind of guy who is suspicious of everyone — presumably, this would apply not only to customers but to anyone seeking something from him.

We had a frustrating back and forth exchange over several phone calls. All the while, it seemed by no means a certainly — by no means guaranteed — that he could or would help me. He had several questions, such as what was the model and year of the rental car. I told him I had not really paid attention when I rented the car, but that I would check. As I was looking through the papers from the rental car company (my car was a few blocks away in the garage), I could sense his impatience and annoyance.

He finally said okay, then told me he would get back to me when the key was made. An hour or so later, he called back and said that he could not make a key for that model car.

I got through to another locksmith. It was pretty much the same thing. He said he could not tell me how long it would take to make a new key, but that it would take quite a while, perhaps not until the next day. He seemed uncertain about whether he would do it, and implied that it would be expensive without specifying the cost. I finally terminated the conversation. Wouldn’t you know it, he called back the next day after I had resolved the problem, still looking to do the job.

It finally occurred to me, “I’m a member of AAA (the American Automobile Association). Why hadn’t I thought of calling them?” AAA found a locksmith for me. Within minutes he called me. He asked for a few specifics and said fine, he could and would do it right away. He quoted a price. Then, he told me, “Relax. I will be there at the garage entrance with the key within a couple of hours.” He was also outside of Boston. It wasn’t like he was right next door.

He showed up within a couple of hours, as promised. He called me a couple of times on my cell phone to tell me he was on his way.

He met me at the entrance to the garage, in a minivan. “Can I get in?” I asked. “Sure,” he said with a smile. He drove me up the ramp of the garage to the car and opened the front left door for me. Told me it was a pleasure to meet me and that he hoped the rest of my trip went well. Made it clear, implicitly, that he had enjoyed having the opportunity to be of service and left me with good vibes, feeling better about things overall, despite my miserable day.

This experience got me to thinking about businesspeople, particularly small businesspeople. Why do some succeed and others seem to drive customers away?

 

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Another story in a similar vein.

A few months ago, my wife and I had an unanticipated car problem. I think it was an ignition problem; I forget. It was something routine which any mechanic could fix, and was not something that required high tech.

Car problems unhinge me, since I am mechanically inept. I am totally at the mercy of mechanics.

I asked my wife what service station we should call. She recommended that I call Pat’s, a gas station around the corner from us, the closest one. My wife’s cousin has been going there for years.

I dutifully called Pat’s. I started to tell the guy, the owner, about my car problem.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“What do you mean. ‘Who’s this,’ “ I replied. “My name is Roger Smith. I’m calling to request service.”

He asked me again, “Who’s this?”

After a few more such questions. I was exasperated. He finally deigned to tell me the hours the station was open, without quite saying that they could provide service, but implying that I could come in and he would take it from there. He was abrupt on the phone and uncommunicative, besides being surly.

I went to another place that specializes in car service (not a gas station) about 15 minutes away from where we live. I just drove there, did not call ahead. When I arrived, they said sure, they could take care of the problem within a couple of hours, and that they would call me when the car was ready. They seemed glad to have the business and were pleasant and easy to deal with. Everything went just fine.

 

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Several years ago, I decided that I wanted to continue learning Russian, which I had studied in college. I found a Russian instructor, an expatriate living in New York, on the internet.

We made arrangements for lessons at his discount rate of forty dollars per hour. To qualify for such a rate, he explained, I had to commit to seeing him twice a week.

He conducted the lessons in a “public space” on the ground floor of a Manhattan building.

He was not enjoyable to study with. Right away, issues developed. He seemed frustrated dealing with limitations and inadequacies with regard to my command of Russian. After all, thought I, isn’t that why I’m here?

He told me I should purchase a handheld tape recorder and bring it to lessons with me, so that he could record his speaking voice and I could thereby develop greater proficiency in pronunciation. During the lessons, I had slight difficulty manipulating the buttons on the tape recorder. He was impatient with me on this account.

He said he must be paid in cash (which was fine with me), and it was always the first thing he required of me. He seemed worried that he might not be paid, which I thought was silly, since one could clearly see that I was the responsible type.

He seemed not to enjoy giving lessons. Teaching, either privately or in a classroom, does not appeal to everyone, it is clear, but, I thought, it was he who was advertising his services as a freelance tutor, and one could imagine that many people in his situation would enjoy having the opportunity to draw upon what in the USA would be a rare expertise to make a living, and impart that knowledge to others. Not the case with him.

One day, not long into beginning lessons with him, I asked him a question or made a mistake in speaking Russian, and he could not hide his annoyance. I thought to myself, I don’t need this. I’m the customer. I’m paying him. And, he acts like I’m IMPOSING upon him. I quit.

Needless to say, he called me after a short while attempting to get me to continue lessons with him.

 

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I’m sure that you, dear reader, have your own horror stories to tell. So, what’s my point?

What I was thinking is that in business, particularly in small businesses where there is face to face interaction and a direct exchange of services and money, one finds that it is not essentially different from other forms of human interaction — the same principles are operative. And, that the same things that make relationships germinate and flourish, or fail miserably, are determinative in the business sphere. One has to, I would aver, LIKE what they do and take pleasure in doing it for the benefit of others to be successful. I guess this is obvious. But, I have often — or at least more often that I wish had been the case — found myself enduring bad service because it seemed there was no other choice.

Over the years, I have become more canny. When I get bad vibes, I tell myself, it’s time to go somewhere else. There’s always another provider within reach providing the same services. And, I realize that it’s not different than interacting with people in general. First impressions are crucial, and sometimes you get a bad feeling up front. Sometimes you can sense that someone doesn’t take to you, wishes you would go away, or is going to be unpleasant. Out of the murk, one can see or sense unpleasantness emerging. It’s usually, or often, a single remark, a look, gesture, or the answer to an inquiry. You walk into a business establishment, call them up and right away you get negative vibes. Usually, it’s a sense that they don’t want to be bothered; are suspicious of you, wondering why you are looking for services from them; wish you would go away and leave them alone. Making one wonder, why did they hang out a shingle or list their phone number in the first place?

 

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Some people have the human touch — in fact many, if not most, do, I would be inclined to say. One may not realize it, but I have found from personal experience that many service people in lower paying jobs actually enjoy being able to deliver and are eager for human interaction and reciprocity. I have found that, if I make it a point to ask how they are doing, or to thank them for the service — as I have been doing more frequently lately — they brighten up and let you know that they appreciate being appreciated and acknowledged. So, I will ask, for example, at the counter of a store or a restaurant, “how is your day going” or “how was your weekend?” And, if I can find something nice to say, truthfully, about good service, I try to do so. There is something edifying, would you not agree? (it’s a basic human need), about having one’s personhood recognized and about being so acknowledged in a business establishment.

I stopped briefly in a local restaurant the other day to purchase a takeout item. Two persons served me, one with respect to the item purchased and the other one being the cashier. They were all smiles and said, we haven’t seen you in a couple of days! Trivial perhaps and not uncommon, but it is remarkable how good such interactions can make one feel. Good business practice for them, but it’s more than that. It’s the pleasure of being able to share one’s common humanity with casual acquaintances, such as in this case. It helps to decrease feelings of alienation and the sense of powerlessness and insignificance that one often experiences when dealing with the business world, its advertisements, and its products.

The “good” businesspeople enjoy helping others, serving them, being able to ameliorate things for you while engaging in a business transaction. Knowing that they made you happy and gratified themselves at being thanked and appreciated. Feeling that being able to benefit mankind makes their life worthwhile. Showing their humanity.

Many of these people like what they do, which is the best of all possible worlds.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  September 2017

selections from Franz Liszt’s transcriptions for piano of Beethoven’s symphonies

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 2, 2nd movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/1-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-2-track-2.mp3?_=1

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 3 (“Eroica”), 1st movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/2-beethoven-liszt-eroica-symph-1st-mvmt.mp3?_=2

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 3 (“Eroica”), 4th movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/3-beethoven-liszt-eroica-symph-4th-mvmt.mp3?_=3

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 4, 1st movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/4-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-4-track-1.mp3?_=4

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 5, 3rd movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/5-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-5-track-3.mp3?_=5

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 6 (“Pastorale”), 1st movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/6-beethoven-liszt-pastorale-symphony-track-1.mp3?_=6

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 7, 1st movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/7-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-7-1st-mvmt.mp3?_=7

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 7, 2nd  movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/8-beethoven-lizst-symph-no-7-2nd-mvmt.mp3?_=8

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 8, 1st movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/9-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-8-track-1.mp3?_=9

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 8, 4th  movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/10-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-8-track-4.mp3?_=10

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 9, 2nd  movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/11-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-9-2nd-mvmt.mp3?_=11

 

Beethoven, symphony no. 9, 4th  movement

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/12-beethoven-liszt-symph-no-9-4th-mvmt.mp3?_=12

 

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Beethoven’s nine symphonies exist in the form of transcriptions of all nine for solo piano by Franz Liszt. Liszt’s transcriptions of the symphonies are considered to be among the most technically demanding piano music ever written.

During an interview about a year before his death in 1989, Vladimir Horowitz said that he considered Liszt’s piano transcriptions of the Beethoven symphonies the ”greatest works written for the piano,” and that he deeply regretted not having made them a cornerstone of his repertory. I have come to understand what he meant.

For Liszt, a piano transcription of a Beethoven symphony was not just some virtuoso stunt. He paid homage to the symphonies by rendering them for piano in amazingly scrupulous detail, and used the instrument to comment on Beethoven’s music. The actual musical content of the symphonies … comes through with fresh impact in these transcriptions.

Liszt was also celebrating the piano as the only instrument capable of evoking an entire symphonic sound world. It takes enormous virtuosity to play these works.

— “In Keyboard Rhapsody with a Flamboyant Liszt.” by Anthony Tommasini, The New York Times,  March 19, 1999

 

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These transcriptions enable one to hear the symphonies anew. An example from my own experience: Listening to Beethoven’s eight symphony in this version, I feel it’s “underrated.”

What do you mean underrated, one might say? Don’t all of Beethoven’s symphonies rank at the top of the symphonic form. Well, then I might say, it should be performed more often!

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

“born in exile” (“Some Reflections on the Scholarship of George Gissing”)

 

Daley, ‘Some Reflections on the Scholarship of Gisisng’ – Classical J

 

Posted above as a downloadable PDF file is the following article:

“Some Reflections on the Scholarship of George Gissing” by Norma L. Schank Daley, The Classical Journal, 38.1 (October 1942), pp. 21-30

 

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“Hey, Roger. Many thanks for these! All of them were good, but especially the one written by Norma Schank Daley. Her opening paragraph nearly moved me to tears. Not only was the sentiment expressed deeply moving, but her writing is exquisite. I really savored that one. Rarely do I have the pleasure of encountering such elegant scribbling, and hers borders on lapidary. I envy those who can write so well! Thanks again for sending them along.”

— email from Charles Davenport, Jr. September 9, 2017

(Charles Davenport Jr., a long time Gissing enthusiast, is a member of the Editorial Board of the Greensoboro News & Record in Greensboro, NC.)

 

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Note: A major source for Ms. Daley’s article was The Private Life of Henry Maitland, a novel by Morley Roberts (1857-1942), an English novelist. The Private Life of Henry Maitland was based on the life of George Gissing.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  September 2017

English and Shakespeare

 

William Shakespeare, “As You Like It”; paperback; Washington Square Press, 1960; note the price of 35 cents

 

I am extremely grateful that English is my native language.

In my humble opinion — it’s been said countless times — ’tis a glorious language.

So rich in its origins and vocabulary; the history and shades of meaning that so many of our words have.

The wonderful admixture of earthy, pithy Germanic words from the Anglo-Saxon and high flown, mellifluous Latinate ones, mostly from French, plus borrowings from so many tongues.

I have often said to myself, and to others, that I am grateful for having English as my native tongue if for no other reason than that I can read and appreciate Shakespeare in the original.

(And, I should add, parenthetically, to be able to hear Handel’s Messiah — the verses therefrom — which, being in the King James version, are immediately comprehensible to the listener whose native language is English … but, I would guess, present a challenge for anyone else).

I first read Shakespeare, like most students, in high school. My first Shakespeare play was As You Like It — which I loved and have since retained a special affection for — followed by Hamlet.

There was some trepidation about reading The Bard. Would he be difficult?

I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was NOT difficult and was readily comprehensible and enjoyable. He was pleasurable to read and actually easy.

Shakespeare is, of course, admired the world over — in Russia and Japan, for example. But I would guess that foreign readers of him and the producers and consumers of foreign films and foreign stage productions in which his works are presented in translation are focusing on — are enjoying — the marvelous, intricate plots and the dramatic interest of, say, his tragedies without being able to be ravished by the marvelous language.

In watching English language productions of Shakespeare, I have thought to myself, it is hard — in some respects — to go wrong. There is always the verbal richness.

It’s hard to conceive how some schools and publishers can embrace the idea of Shakespeare simplified and “translated” into 21st century English.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  September 2017

 

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There is something beautiful in a language where at the very beginning on a cold, rough shore, users were calling the ocean the “swan-road” and the “whale-road” and the word for poet was the word that became today’s “shaper.” It is amazing to see that even in times when human endeavor has been at its most self-destructive, the language has been able to flower and step forward.

— review of Inventing English: A Portable History of the Language by Seth Lerner, posted by a reader on Amazon.com