Sarabande from Bach’s Fourth Cello Suite

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Zachary Woolfe, the classical music critic of the New York Times, offers this enticing invite. “In Just a Few Minutes, This Music Will Change Your Day“. The subtitle reads, “Calm and graceful, this cello piece by Bach slowly dances through hopefulness, longing and introspection.”

Is there anyone in more desperate need for calm, grace, and hope than me?

I listened. And I don’t know if it changed my day, but it did make me think that classical music could be a pillar of my eventual recovery.

Dig Woolfe’s conclusion.

“The cello suites were probably written around 1720, when Bach was employed by a German prince. He spent much of his career working for churches, so this was a rare period in which he got to focus on secular works. There was no need for his music to be about anything, to have any practical use. He could simply celebrate instruments and the full range of what they could do, quietly pushing them to their limits.”

Beautiful. Bach’s sarabande and Woolfe’s framing of it.

Scheffler For The Win

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Not the fleeting kind that ends in hoisting a trophy. The real “meaningful life” kind.

Scottie Scheffler, the world’s #1 rated golfer, is winning more tournaments than anyone else and just asked at one of the most honest and provocative sports pressers in recent memory, “What’s the point?” You don’t have to be a golf junkie to watch/appreciate it.

Maybe his perspective is even more impressive than his game. He somehow knows fame is fleeting. And ultimately, unfulfilling. Especially compared to family.

I quit competing in triathlons after conducting a mental exercise. I thought to myself that if I truly committed to consistent training, age group wins at decent races were possible. And qualifying for the Kona World Championships. And these best case scenarios didn’t move the needle nearly enough for me to continue racing. I concluded, “What’s the point?”

There is one convincing reason for aging weekend warriors to keep entering races. Races provide many the needed motivation to train.

Back in my earliest triathlon racing days, I integrated swimming, cycling, and running into my life to the point that I regularly do some combo of all three each week*. Thus, that rationale doesn’t hold for me. I get “out the door” without signing up for anything. But, I suspect I’m an outlier in that respect.

*Haven’t swam in July yet. Father/Mother, forgive me, for I have sinned. My excuse is I’m allergic to something in the lake. And it seems like a crime to swim indoors in July.

Paragraph to Ponder

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Susan Rothchild in The New York Times:

“My son, Chauncey, died a few years ago of a fentanyl overdose. He was a brilliant, eccentric autodidact, an excellent farmer and chef, but he chose to work as a carpenter and plumber. He was not good at either job. Yet, when he offered to build my new bathroom, I said yes. Now every time I take a shower and see the dribbles of grout on the wall, stand on the still-unattached drain plate or get drenched using the hand nozzle with a mind of its own, I think of him. I will never get them fixed.”

Two Worlds

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Public and private. All of us behave a little or a lot differently whether we’re in public or not. In extreme cases, people live “double lives”.

The dichotomy between Lynn’s public life, by which I mean when friends and family visit, and private one, where I’m the only person around, is so glaring that it got me thinking.

Specifically, I’ve been pondering why she’s not just okay when friends and family are around, but especially smiley (and today, extremely giggly) and physically better than normal. There’s a wonderful lightness. I guess it makes sense learning what we’re learning about the importance of close interpersonal relationships to our overall health and well-being.

But man, the whiplash that comes when friends and family leave is intense. And disorienting.

When home alone she pops boosters between timed meds and her body is off and on, and when on, she’s bored, and she struggles with any sense of purpose. There’s a heaviness.

Why am I telling you this? Not sure. Maybe to help you mentally prep for this phenomenon if you’re ever a primary care giver. Or maybe I’m letting you in hoping for some sort of connection.

Last night, I had an epiphany. A tough one that I was hesitant to share with Lynn because I expected a negative/defensive reaction.

I told her I had an observation I wanted to share with her. “You have a restless spirit.” There, I said it. Fortunately, I was wrong, because she didn’t argue the point. She listened carefully as I told her I missed her, that it felt like all of her time and attention was taken fighting her Multiple Systems Atrophy. That there was no time or attention left for me.

That I felt more like an employee than best friend.

Most people confined to a wheelchair and unable to do hardly anything independently watch a lot of tv and read. Since Schitt’s Creek ended, Lynn doesn’t watch tv and her reading glasses, despite repeated trips to the optometrist, aren’t working well enough for her to read much.

Thus, when alone, if she’s feeling okay, she’s in constant motion searching for something to do. Anything to do. Or she’s laid out on the couch waiting for her meds to kick in. The only time she’s not on the move is when her body completely quits or she’s asleep.

Our convo, mostly about how dying is scary and spiritual malaise, deepened. She cried and said she didn’t know “I loved her that much”. I took in what I think was her deeper message, “I didn’t know I’m that lovable.” I told her lots and lots of people love her.

I told her I was having a hard time dealing with her restlessness and with her constant MSA fight. That caring for her took all my energy, that there was no leftover energy to just hang. And that it would be really sad to spend our final months or years together not really together.

Case in point. Saturday and Sunday nights I throw dinner together for the fam and then sit at the kitchen island with my own dinner while one or both daughters join their mom at the dining room table. Hell, during the week I do it too, leaving Lynn to eat by herself. Yeah, you’re right, I am a lowlife.

While I am a lowlife, I probably deserve a few points for being vulnerable and risking the convo. Sadly, in part, I risked it because soon we won’t be able to have back-and-forth conversations of that sort.

But not being especially centered myself these days, it’s really tough to take on her anxiety about dying, her exasperation at MSA’s relentless progression, and her general unease and utter restlessness. Especially given the cost that restlessness is taking on our friendship. For now.

Postscript: We ate dinner together. Afterwards, there was more slow dancing in the kitchen. The roller coaster keeps rolling.

Pop Culture Wins

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The Bear has cast a spell on me. I watch it in a transfixed state rooting for the restaurant and every single character. I’m doing my best to limit myself to one episode a day before dozing off. I slipped up today and watched Episode 4.9 in the middle of the day. Whether to watch the season finale tonight is one of the great ethical questions of our time.

Episode 4.9 produced not just the normal watery eyes, but actual tears thanks to Jamie Lee Curtis who they should just give whatever awards she’s eligible for. Tour de force.

I see critical headlines about the show’s lack of direction and slippage and just laugh. “Not reading that or that or that.” Because the writers are all wrong. Every season, hell, every episode is perfect.

Criticize the show and prepare to throw down.

Then there’s Haim’s new album, “I Quit”. Haim is single-handedly giving young hetero males hope. Their songs and vids are unabashedly hetero. And fun. And funny. Dig this lyric from “Take Me Back”.

“Alana lost her head when she had a crush
Billy St. Reams didn’t wanna fuck
Bad GPA, couldn’t get it up”

I don’t know BSR, but there’s no way he deserved that!

Here’s a different track from the album.

Extra credit if you know which one of the three love interests is on The Bear.

How Is It Playing?

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According to “insiders”, that is the Mad King’s default question. Not, what is the right thing for the common good, how is it playing?

Cut to John Gruber:

“Having an ignorant conspiracy nut lead the Department of Health and Human Services is angering and worrisome, to say the least. But it’s also incredibly frustrating, because Donald Trump himself isn’t an anti-vaxxer. In fact, one of the few great achievements of the first Trump Administration was Operation Warp Speed, a highly successful effort spearheaded by the US federal government to “facilitate and accelerate the development, manufacturing, and distribution of COVID-19 vaccines, therapeutics, and diagnostics.” Early in the pandemic experts were concerned it would take years before a Covid vaccine might be available. Instead, multiple effective vaccines were widely available — and administered free of charge — in the first half of 2021, only a year after the pandemic broke. It was a remarkable success and any other president who spearheaded Operation Warp Speed would have rightfully taken tremendous credit for it.

But instead, while plotting his return to office, Trump smelled opportunity with the anti-vax contingent of the out-and-proud Stupid-Americans, and now here we are, with a genuine know-nothing lunatic like RFK Jr. as Secretary of Health and Human Services. God help us if another pandemic hits in the next few years.”

Of course, as we’re already seeing in places like West Texas with a measles outbreak, the public health threat isn’t limited to a possible pandemic.

Elon Is Getting His Ass Handed To Him

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From Reuters by way of Yahoo Finance.

He’s such a sympathetic character, you have to feel sorry for him, don’t you?

“In the first 18 hours after the YU7 went on sale, Xiaomi received some 240,000 orders that it considers locked in, with buyers having paid either a hefty deposit for ready-to-deliver cars or a smaller deposit for cars still to be made.

. . . As domestic rivals increasingly win over Chinese consumers with snazzy new features, Tesla’s share of the Chinese EV market has fallen from a peak of 15% in 2020 to 10% last year and then again to 7.6% for the first five months of 2025.

Citi analysts said in a note to clients that it may have to cut prices further, offer its ‘Full Self-Driving’ (FSD) driver assistance software for free and offer more financing incentives if it is to compete successfully with Xiaomi.”

Postscript.

Paragraph to Ponder

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Via LOliver by way of JByrnes:

“There is so much to tend to, hold, be with, feel. May you find so much gentleness for your own process. May you let your humanity unfurl, over and over again. May the grief and hurt wrapped up in facing the world be held by your own willingness to look. May love soften the hard edges. May light soothe the dark places. May you return to your own heart’s knowing and trust what it whispers to you. May you let yourself do all of this so imperfectly, that imperfection a reminder that you are a human being, figuring it all out for the first time. I’m with you.”

Early evenings, like a lot of the time that I care for Lynn, I’m on the move. Making dinner, getting her fed, eating myself, doing dishes, cleaning the counters, taking out the trash, vacuuming the hardwood floor.

Activity blunts the grief. But I pressed pause Monday evening and it rushed in.

I stopped cleaning to dance. In the reflection of the oven, I saw the real dancer watching me. When I try dancing, she just smiles.

And now, the dancer pushes her wheelchair away from the table so that she can move toward the pretend dancer.

“You want to dance, don’t you?” Bigger smile. I expedite things by wheeling her into the kitchen. Where I help her up and embrace her. We slow dance like first-time junior highers slowly swaying back and forth.

But dammit, it’s The National singing “I Need My Girl”.

The refrain rips through. “I need my girl. I need my girl. I need my girl.”

My girl has no clue I’m crying.

May love soften the hard edges. May light soothe the dark places.

A Surprise Swing Dance For The Win

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A very good friend of mine has been “unlucky” in marriage. Three divorces. Although the first was so short, and he was so young, he doesn’t count it. A mulligan if you will. So, for all intents and purposes, twice divorced.

Of course, you and I both know luck has nothing to do with whether committed relationships endure.

After his last divorce, about five years ago, he looked in the failed relationship mirror, and really didn’t like what he saw, negative patterns of his own doing.

In no time at all, he fell hard for partner four. So hard, he turned to a therapist to avoid sabotaging it.

No dude in the history of dudes has ever told another dude everything they talk about with their therapist. But my friend has confided in me a bit about his therapeutic journey including his initial question of “Am I an asshole?” I could have saved him a lot of time and money by simply saying “No, you aren’t an asshole. Not even close.” But his initial question was his way of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” Which lead to, “What work do I need to do to avoid fucking up this relationship?”

Relationship Four really warms my heart. I asked him what explains his positivity and joy in this new relationship and without hesitating, he said, “We have fun together.” I herby submit that as a litmus test for any committed relationship.

I don’t know anyone over fifty who has pivoted as much as my friend. The key ingredients as I understand them—introspection, humility, vulnerability, and self-compassion. Inspiring stuff.

Fast forward to a text he sent this morning. And I quote, “And then to top the evening off, I showed M how I had spent the last five weeks secretly learning to swing dance to surprise her for her 50th birthday. Yes, that’s as much as I can manage after five weeks. I can’t dance! And I’m a slow learner.”

The low res video nearly brought me to tears. Just the two of them, swing dancing in front of a big ass swing band in a New York City club. It’s so beautiful. Because it represents so much damn growth. He’s prioritizing her happiness. And so the happiness comes back to him.

On my run this afternoon, I kept returning to the vid in my mind. And all the innumerable podcasts I’ve listened to and “think pieces” I’ve read that lament the problem of boys, and how to raise men, and how to teach masculinity.

My friend’s surprise swing dance is the most manly, most masculine thing imaginable. Because it’s the result of all the intrapersonal work he’s done.

I firmly believe the “boy-man-masculinity” discussion is completely pointless. Instead of asking, “What does it mean to be a man?”, we should ask, “What does it mean to be a decent human being?” Instead of obsessing about getting masculinity just right, we should shift our focus to the personal attributes we want all young people to embody, irrespective of their gender identities.

Especially how to be caring, kind, and selfless. I am incredibly proud of my friend for piecing together an equation that fosters those exact attributes.

Introspection + humility + vulnerability + self-compassion.