LP

Having recently given in to the retro craze for vinyl, pulling albums out of the attic, life-threatening to me in their dust and must, I am struck by the tenderness of the act of placing the LP on the turntable. The way you handle it from the moment you make contact with the album cover, cautiously sliding it out of the sleeve, then reaching in to place index and middle finger on the label in the center, and thumb on the edge of the disc so you do not tarnish it with fingerprints or scratch it with a stray fingernail. You gaze for a moment with a squinty glance and blow off real and imagined particles that may otherwise cause pops and skips. Then lightly placing it on the record player, and handling the delicate stylus arm and placing it down upon the first outer groove, you wait a second or so and there it is. Music.

So different from tapping on the iTunes app. Different than the CD too, which can also be life, or at least limb-threatening in terms of the sharp devices needed to open the seal, surely the cause of many Christmas Day ER visits. The CD you toss on, maybe 5 at a time if you have the kind of player that rotates between discs, and hit play and walk away and it will probably sound brilliant. Until that day it stops working, which you never thought would happen when they first came out with CDs. In this day when mindfulness is hot, it is no wonder LP's are making a comeback. The tender act of playing an LP is retro hipster Zen, and I actually do not mean that in a bad way.

I have found albums dating back to the 1940's in my parent's old collection. And no Dad, I am still never going to listen to "A German Christmas". But there is some Leonard Bernstein worth saving for sure, and all the Beethoven symphonies, ala Toscanini. Also Horowitz' first Carnegie Hall performance in 12 years, 2 discs. He opens with a Bach-Busoni monster of a piece, which was incredibly brave for a guy who still puked with anxiety prior to performances at age 86 and had not performed live in 12 years. So many people stood in line for tickets, that Horowitz' wife, Wanda (nee Toscanini-sheesh can you imagine having Arturo T as a father-in-law?) got bunches of donuts and coffee and distributed them to the crowd.

I found two new LPs today, I mean new in condition but older than me in terms of when they were recorded, and after dropping the needle felt an expansion of my day. I've heard these albums dozens of time, on CD, but my CDs are worn out.

The slow arc of playing an album, which must of course end with careful replacement in the dust jacket, had me thinking today. Metaphorically speaking, it is rich. The slow arc of justice comes to mind, which when freedom and decency is involved makes the meditative value, the Zen patience, the hipster grooviness less palatable. When the KKK has broached the highest house of American government and our president is so reckless with his words, there is a hollow feeling reading all the lovely MLK Day posts on Facebook and Twitter. Why didn't anyone in The Room that day of "shithole" infamy stand up and call a time out?

My Dad would have. If you wonder what all the bumpiness has been, perhaps making you almost fall over in your tracks in recent months, that would be my father rolling around in his grave. I mean, he was cremated, but even his ashes are rising up in protest. I think of him today because he not only talked the talk, but he walked the walk. He was arrested, had his life threatened, and was almost ex-communicated from the Lutheran Church. He was a minister in Dearborn, MI during the mid-late 60's. He suggested a black pastor come speak at the church. The Lutheran Church thought maybe the best response to that would be kicking my Dad to the curb.

It is easy to vilify institutions such as this, but the institution is only going to stand if the people who are its framework continue to hold it up. It is also easy to idolize great people who do stand up to power at the risk of life and profession and comfort. Martin Luther King was not perfect. I am not entirely sure MLK would come out of the #metoo movement unscathed. And my father told the absolute corniest jokes the world has ever heard. I am pretty sure there is a lot of groaning and face palming going on in heaven right now, unless corny jokes are just plain outlawed there. Which I hope they are not because....so funny!

What people like MLK and my Dad did was, quite literally, stand up and look others straight in the eye and call their bullshit. In social media, we can just say stuff, often anonymously, and it will not likely effect our work status, our legal status or whether the government puts us on the list of people to watch. Well, maybe that last one is not so true.....Have you donated to the ACLU lately, by the way?

The long arc of justice is not one beautiful spiral pass by a great quarterback which we can just watch sail by into the end zone. It felt a little like that to me though when President Obama was first elected. It felt like we had arrived, that we could slam that ball of justice onto the field and do a happy dance. Or cry with the sheer brilliance of it, like so many of us did. This game isn't over yet, and Trump being elected felt like some crazy ref threw a flag on the play we all thought was the clincher,

I am totally out of my zone here. I know very little about football. Better I think to consider the long arc of long distance running, particularly the marathon: the LP of the sports world. You cannot rush to a personal record. You have to put in all the tender, cautious and gutsy work to become fit, strong, fierce. You have to treat your body right, listen to the cues it gives you, and turn to others around you for support and buoyancy. You have to face failures, which will definitely occur if you run enough marathons, and dust off your ego and hamstrings and get back to training. You celebrate the wins, the PRs, the workout you killed. But always remembering it is fleeting. Health is fleeting. Sometimes we cannot run the whole way, or at all. But running long distances is a good way to practice for hard stuff in life, and right now what is harder than NOT being silent about the outrageous HATE being given by the leaders of our country?

One thing President Obama modeled was the impact of community service and grass roots action. I think Americans are actually naturals at this. Most of us came here as immigrants or children or grandchildren of immigrants, and had to figure out how to be a part of this larger community, so different from the homogenous countries we came from. When things go wrong, we band together. One last metaphorical musing: our proverbial "band" needs to get out of the practice room, and onto the stage and we need to sing. Nay, SHOUT, like the American mutt punks we are.

If it helps to think of Your Favorite Things first, just to feel less scared, here is some help from one of my "new" LPs. Dog bites? Bee stings? Upsetting the oligarchy? Pshaw.