Satellite Radio Quandry

Well, just when I thought I was on the cutting edge with an MP3 player,...satellite radio comes along. Now I am wondering whether to trade up to an Ipod or to go with a MYFI satellite receiver or the like of small hand held units that can go into your home or your car as well. It will record 5 hours of music so you can use it like an Ipod when exercising or running(otherwise you would be SOL since it needs some type of antenna facing south or you won't get anything under a roof, or so I hear). Not sure. A few months ago, Consumer Reports said that the technology would get better and they advised to wait a little longer since the hand held units pick up was spotty at times and bad at other times. Please advise some more!

IPOD-A-GO-GO

I needed some diversion for my run the other day. I saw Holden's i-pod laying there on the table, so I took it to the gym. I knew music would help time go by more quickly as I was placing myself on the implement of torture known as the treadmill. I was not ready for what I was about to hear or that it would give a whole new meaning to my idea of an implement of torture. There were no bad lyrics, and even some good ones,...some nice rythmns and beats and tunes and harmonies and bass lines,...etc. etc.,...but then there was screaming. Not the Beatles varitey of screaming in "Shake it up Baby" or even the Elvis Costello style of screaming, like in the beginning of "Man Out of Time" or even The Blind Boys of Alabama and their spiritual screaming in their early recordings from the 40's,....but this was blood curdling screaming of lyrics that had been so sweetly sung only a couple of measures previous. These formerly sane musicians had seemed to have lost the battle with their psycho evil sides and were now yelling at the tops of their lungs,....at me! It was a personal affront, I thought. I flashed back to junior high and bringing home a poor grade in algebra for my parents to sign and send back. But my parents didn't seem quite as furious as these musicians,...and my parents had every right to be that angry, but I don't even know this band,...what right do that have to be speaking to me in these tones? I really don't think my son has any right to claim that I ever yell at him,...the levels of volume and aggitation in my voice are no match for these young abusive boy musicians. Maybe this is one reason why kids have such attitudes and why it takes so much to break through their tough exoskeletons and really get to them. I think next time I am wanting to express myself to my son, I will pick up one of his guitars and grind and scream away,...and who knows? He may listen then.

P.S. Beware of Hawthorne Heights and Silverstein, two of my son's favorite screaming "teen angst" bands. If you see their LP drop on the turntable YOU run screaming from the room before they scream first!(sorry I'm listening to 70's music and went a little too retro, but you know what I mean,...before their file downloads get outa there!)

The Razor's Edge

Well, I am sporting a new fancy phone,...well, it's not new, it's used. It's in good shape, I know the previous owner,...it was my son. He had a much nicer phone than his parents, but he couldn't keep up with it. A few days ago there was a knock on the door and our house guest answered and a lady asked if anyone had lost a cell phone in our house. He said no, then thought to ask what kind of phone it was and asked to see it. The lady said it was a Motorola Razor(I know, I know, what kind of fool buys a Razor for his 13 year old,....an only child's parent, that's who), and Michael said, that's Holden's. She had found it sitting on the curb, where it had been for at least two days, possibly three. Well, I think I was more upset about it than Holden,...isn't that typical of kids today? But I guarantee, when I was a kid if it had been possible for me to lose something as valuable and cool as a cellphone, not to mention top of the line cellphone, I would have walked the streets every night all night long until I knew where it was. I would have worried myself into a record as the youngest person to have an MI. And I would have tried to cut a deal with my Mom and Dad to spare my life, if the MI didn't kill me. My son's reaction,...."Well, it only costs $30." I almost blacked out there was so much fury running thru my brain. I collected myslef and calmly explained, at the top of my lungs, how his phone on the black market in China probably costs more than $30. So, I had to do something. I had told him before that if he couldn't keep up with the phone that he would lose it either out right lose it himself somewhere or I would take it away. Well, we thought he had lost it for good, but when it turned up, I took it over, until he can prove that he can keep up with my bottom of the line, free with the plan phone. He was pretty decent about it. He told me where it was and proceeded to tell me that I shouldn't be too disappointed because the picture qualities on the phone were not that good, nor did it get good reception, nor was the sound quality very good. I told him that he should be happy because it sounded as if this wasn't a punishment nor teaching moment at all,...since he thinks he still has the superior phone(mine) because the razor was less than the cutting edge cellphone in his mind.

The Huron Carol

This is a new favorite Christmas Carol. I have heard it for years on a couple of Christmas CD's but have never paid attention to the lyrics. The composer placed the story of the birth of Jesus into their own locale, amongst the native French Canadians, Algonquin and Huron Indians(eh, you Hoser!). There's a great movie about missionaries to the Algonquin Indians of Canada, called The Black Robes. Algonquins were pretty fierce, according to that French Canadian film. Anyway, the tune is in minor key,...so it's not happy and cheerful sounding, which throws some folks off, but I think it really fits the lyrics and the area in which it was written. My attention was called to this song as an excellent choir at the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in downtown Birmingham sang it at the Christmas Eve service my brother and I attended this year. As we left on that misty evening, the bells were pealing and I couldn't help but think that the bells were ringing in celebration and proclamation of the birth of our Savior, as the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

Definition:Gitchi Manitou (or Gichi-Manidoo), in traditional Algonquian First Nations culture, is the Great Spirit, the Creator of all things and the Giver of Life.

The "Huron Carol" (or "'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime") is a Christmas hymn, written in 1643 by Jean de Brébeuf, a Christian missionary at Sainte-Marie among the Hurons. Brébeuf wrote the lyrics in the native language of the Huron people; the song's original Huron title is "Jesous Ahatonhia". The song's melody is a traditional French folk song, "Une Jeune Pucelle" ("A Young Maid").
The English version of the hymn, in place of the more traditional Nativity story, uses imagery familiar to North American aboriginal cultures of the time of composition: Jesus is born in a "lodge of broken bark", and wrapped in a "robe of rabbit skin". He is surrounded by hunters instead of shepherds, and the Magi bring him "fox and beaver pelts" instead of the more familiar gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The hymn also uses a traditional Huron name, Gitchi Manitou, for God. The original lyrics are now sometimes modified to use imagery more familiar to Christians who are not part of the Huron culture.
Brébeuf was martyred in 1649. He is one of the eight Canadian Martyrs.
English lyrics were written by Jesse Edgar Middleton in 1926. The song remains a common Christmas hymn in Canadian churches of many Christian denominations. Bruce Cockburn has also recorded a rendition of the song.

'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled
That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn,
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found;
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt.
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou
The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy.
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Link to Lyrics in the native language and an MP3 of native Canadians singing the song in their language. This is much more dissonant and stark than the version I heard Christmas Eve, but I imagine it is as close to the original composition as anything:

http://firstnationhelp.com/huron.html

Running Rural

I run. I try to run regularly. I'm only successful some of the time. I'm not a good runner. I have a huge mental block about just running. I can run without mental difficulties when there are other things to occupy my mind,....like some other guys kicking a football or dribbling a basketball or smackin a softball,...or a big junkyard dog chasing me,...but ONLY running is a big hurdle for me to get over. Music helps, or maybe thinking about political or religious issues which are passionate to me. I run best on the treadmill,...but there ain't no treadmills in rural Alabama,...none that I can use anyway. Over Christmas break I develop bad eating habits,...eating everything in sight. I have tried to counter that bad habit with a good habit,...running. Since I have no access to a treadmill,...I must take to the countryside of rural NE Alabama. My In-Laws live on a mountain, so in the winter the wind can cut you in half,...it wasn't windy,..but was pretty cold. I didn't really push myself,...maybe I should have, but I was just glad I was out there. Early morning Tuesday, December 27, there was a heavy frost. While stretching I heard Caroline Chickadees, Crows, Wrens, Cardinals, Woodpeckers, all urging me onward to my goal(they were probably just bitchin about how cold it was, like me). In the distance I heard the babbling of the creek and it grew more faint as I started my rural run. I had mapped out my route last year(I was an irregular runner then also). My brother, Richard, is a regular runner. He lives in NYC, and smells all the city smells,....bus diesel fumes, street vendors hot dogs, subways, human urine . There are country smells also. The cold stifled some of the smells,...but some are too strong to be put down by the cold. First I saw the chicken houses, then I heard them,...a cacauphony of farm noise(or maybe more like a ca"cackle"phony or ca"crow"phony),...but the smell,....whoa! The lady down the road from my in-laws raises fryers and layers for "Koch Farms". That was about 50 yards into my run. In the next quarter mile I was into a new dung smell,...cow. Not as disturbing as chicken,...but it ranks,...not quite as bad as pig, which is in the top 5,....and which I thankfully didn't run into on this route. There were other more pleasant odors,...pine,...smoke from wood burning fireplaces,...fresh air. I ran,...but I walked some too. I'm not a good runner,...but I figure I'm good enough for me. I won't be running a marathon, but maybe what little bad running I do will give me a marathon heart beat,...or the energizer heart beat that keeps going and going and going.