Wonderful things; please enjoy them

Having a choleric temperament often leads to excessive focus on what’s wrong and ugly. Why, yes, I am using the humoral model, and it’s close enough for government work, as they say.

Since my thumb is so heavily on the negative side of scale, some balance is required.

There are wonderful, joyful, beautiful things in the world. There are fun, entertaining, and happy things to enjoy. Here are some of mine.

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Bach’s toccata and fugue in D minor.

Yes, it is “over-exposed” and cliché. But like stereotypes, clichés exist for a reason: they speak truth.

A well-executed performance of this piece on pipe organ seizes me with emotion. To listen to it is to be ravished by the music; taken. Especially by that V7 chord that brings you to the edge of ecstasy and lingers until it is unbearable and just has to resolve.

European young man who loves American cars

I think Ed is Dutch. He loves cars, especially American cars, and knows more about them than most people. His videos are a joy to watch for anyone who appreciates the aesthetics, economics, engineering, and psychology behind the 20th century automobile.

His history of American cars series is highly recommended. There are also some videos on European and Soviet cars.

Here’s a place to start.

Suzanne Vega’s Calypso

Vega is one of the true artists of pop/folk music for the past 60 years. She was the first singer I sent a fan letter to, and she sent me a hand-signed postcard thanking me in 1987. Like most, I came to know her through her hit song “Luka,” about child abuse. I wrote to tell her how much it meant to know someone like her understood what it was like for kids like me.

Since then, she’s been on my list of “will buy album sound unheard” recording artists.

This song tells the story of Calypso and Odysseus through Calypso’s eyes. It captured me from the first time I heard it on the album Solitude Standing.

The arrangement evokes wind and sun and clouds, and an island far away that you get to stand on while Calypso tells her story. It’s so cleverly done musically that I did not realize until a few years ago that the music is mainly a standard 12-bar blues chord progression. See if you can hear it, and notice how deftly it’s “disguised” in this winsome arrangement.

I also like the song because the key and octave is right for me to sing a harmony line, one octave below Vega, that comes out sounding like close country harmony.

’Salt of the waves, and of tears
And though he pulled away
I kept him here for years
Now, I let him go’

The love of a cat

Like most children, I loved animals, pretty much all of them. Cats, dogs, turtles, birds. Cats and I took to each other early. We speak a similar language; they were always good companions to me as a boy, and we always had cats, until my mother tired of them and gave them away finally.

Since I’ve been grown, I have never lived without a cat; it’s simply not home to me without them. I’ve loved and lost many, and I miss every one of them.

2016 was my annus horribilis. My three cats died that year (including my best girl, Mink, who lived with me for 17 years) while I was divorcing my mother and being psychologically shattered.

When it was time to make new cat friends, my roommate Mary and I went kitty shopping at the local shelter.

Shredder was so beautiful he stopped us in our tracks. I have never met a cat in person as handsome and striking as he is. It was immediate love on my part, and cautious trust on Shredder’s part.

He was in bite quarantine at the shelter for three months, and was so stressed. His old people had to give him up because they could not care for him. He was matted to the skin and scared and angry. He was overfed at 22 pounds, and over time we got him down to about 16. He’s at 18 pounds again, but he’s 17 years old.

But he came over to me when I called him and let me pet him. On the second visit, he let me pick him up, and that’s when he came home.

And he promptly established his boundaries by sinking his fangs through the webbing of my right thumb. I learned his ways and signals, and we came to an understanding.

That was 8 years ago. Since then he has grown to trust me completely. Sure, he fights a bit and tries to get away when I have to bathe him and get at his unfortunate hind quarters (long-haired cat problems), but by God he lets me do it. When we go to the vet and he doesn’t want to be handled, he runs to me and jumps in my arms. Even when he hates whatever treatment he’s getting, he knows I’m not doing it to hurt him, and he comes over to me to sit a few minutes later, no grudge held.

Earning the trust of a traumatized cat is one of the most meaningful things I know of. It seems to me that Shredder and I are similar; we’re damaged and bitey, both of us.

That same year, little Mina came along. Sadly, she was taken too early from her mother as a kitten; I agreed to take her in. She imprinted on me and eight years later still acts as though she thinks I am her actual mother.

Fortunately, Shredder quickly accepted her as his adopted sister, and they have loved each other these eight years. He takes care of her and wraps his big self around her to give her a bath at least once a day.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy your day.

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