A busy day of trying to do too much

I read the newspaper and it gives me ideas for blog entries. When I write a blog entry I often think of something that needs more clarification. To get more clarification, I search the web for relevant material. I may find something interesting, but that also needs more clarification. The latest find was a chapter of a book. The file had no citation about the larger work or the author. So, I sent email to the webmaster asking for details. I probably won't receive an answer until Monday or Tuesday.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to learn several songs for "Madrigal Dinners". I would like to memorize them but first I have to sing them correctly. For a guy who has been told he has a nice voice, I'm also one who has difficulty staying in key and in time. Plus, I have difficulty grabbing enough air to sing more than two bars on a single breath. And we just remembered we have a practice tonight.

So, you wonder what are "Madrigal Dinners". For the second year, the Unitarian-Universalist Congregation of Duluth is putting on Madrigal Dinners. These are five course meals supposedly in a renaissance manor with much entertainment. The choir is part of the entertainment.

Can you attend a Madrigal Dinner? I'm glad you asked. For more information see "Winter in Love Madrigal Dinners". Tell them Mel sent you.

Learning to sing should be easier than learning the alphabet

As I was driving to my voice lesson, I considered that there were only 25 sounds in a two-octave range: C-Db-D-Eb-E-F-Gb-G-Ab-A-Bb-B-C-… and 12 to the next C. If you work at it, you can memorize a few notes, sing one of them, walk to a piano, press that note, and find you are right on.

Well, why not work on memorizing all 25? Since as a struggling kindergardener you memorized 26 letters in the alphabet, shouldn't you as an intelligent adult be able to memorize all 25 sounds in a two-octave range. Even fewer sounds if you can't manage two octaves, yet!

A trick is to memorize a song and use the starting note as your first "memorized note". I can do it with the first note of Arirang, maybe three out of four times. Only 24 to go!

Paul's song

Our friend Paul is at Mayo undergoing some patience-trying therapy. A relative and a couple of friends wrote additional lyrics to "Frère Jacques". I finally made a half-way decent recording of it. If you're not a musical perfectionist, click here. I also posted it on his site on Caring Bridge.

If you have difficulty listening to "Paul's Song", you can download a free copy of QuickTime for the PC at http://www.apple.com/quicktime/

Standing still at Grandma's Marathon

For the second time in ten years we stayed in town for Grandma's Marathon instead of going to our cabin in Brimson. For the first time we not only went near it, we volunteered; I as an entertainer, my wife at whatever was needed.

My wife dropped me off after 7 close to my assigned place, which was the corner of Superior St. and Fifth Avenue West, by the Ordean Bldg. I went to the nearby Starbucks, which, as far as I knew, was the only coffee shop open at that time. It was convenient also, being only a block from my assigned place. I had my mug filled and bought a scone and a muffin.

I set up our chairs on one of the few level places on Fifth Avenue, pulled out my water bottles and music notebook, and stuck my jacket in the pack. I also wired myself with my iPod for any accompaniment I would want. I had only had a few bites of my scone before the leaders of the Half-Marathon were in view. They were some distant apart and so I only sang song snatches as they came around the corner. "He'll be runnin' down Superior when he comes" or if I thought the runner was Kenyan, "Amani Utupe Na Ustawi". This is the name of a song written by an American for Kenyan friends. It is Swahili for "Grant us peace, give us courage".

Only when the runners came in packs did I go to songs. Some I could do unaccompanied from memory; others I needed sheet music and iPod accompaniment. Several times I couldn't get to the selection on the iPod very quickly. It seemed my fingers just slid across the screen without doing anything. Of course, I was doing this as I held my notebook in my other hand.

I did a fair job of singing during the Half-Marathon, but my voice became strained. Still, several runners smiled as they went by and some bystanders gave me a bit of encouragement. I stopped singing probably 15-30 minutes before the Marathon leaders were due.

The first runner was well ahead of others, and people were saying he was a Minnesotan. Probably 6 of the next 8 were Africans. One of these did a double take when I sang "Amani Utupe Na Ustawi".

When the first woman came by, I was struck by her intensity. I don't think she even noticed me. I recognized her as Mary Akor who was featured in the Duluth News Tribune on Friday. As she went by I sang "Amani Utupe Na Ustawi". I don't think she even noticed me. But I thought, "Whoops, I don't think she's from Kenya". I read about her later; she's from Nigeria but now lives in California as an American citizen.

As the runners came more in packs, I started singing complete songs again. But my voice wasn't as good anymore. I missed syllables, I missed higher notes, and I sounded strained. Still, I got smiles from some runners and encouragement from some bystanders.

A dark-skinned woman made some friendly comment about my singing. I was too slow to sing the phrase "Amani Utupe Na Ustawi." However, from the snatches of her words, I would say she was American, not African.

I was on the lookout for green head bands or wrist bands, but the only green I saw was on shirts or shorts. I finally saw two guys running together, dressed almost identically. I think they had yellow shirts with some green, but they both had bright green head bands. I shouted "Ey Iran" after them, but they were out of earshot.

"Ey Iran" is a popular patriotic song often used by the opposition. You can find the lyrics at http://en.wikipedai.org/wiki/Ey_Iran and a good choral version at http://www.saeedgilani.com/EyIran.mp3. Note that the capitalization is important in the second URL and probably in the first.

I kept watching for two friends who would be coming sometime after three hours. But I had to go to the toilet, but I didn't want to miss them. Finally the first appeared, walking. He had told me that he hoped someone would sing in French, and so I sang bits of "Allouette". He gave a big grin. Quite a few minutes later the second friend appeared, running. He is Japanese, and I shouted, "Say What? Seigo! Say What? Seigo! Seigo! Seigo! Go! Go! Go!" I immediately headed for the portable toilets a half block away, and at least one was not occupied!

After I came back, I made a few attempts to sing, but it was with less and less energy. Finally, I sat in one of our chairs, pulled out my iPod, got a signal from the Radisson hotel, and caught up on the news from Iran, none of it any good.

Somewhere around noon my wife came from her post and we packed up. Runners kept coming, but most were walking. We headed toward the entertainment tent at the course end to use our beverage tickets. As we crossed the slip bridge, the volume from the tent was deafening and we were still over two hundred feet away. I suggested that we eat at Amazing Grace instead.

It was cool and relatively quiet inside, and there were still many empty tables. We plopped down by a window with our sandwiches and beverages, grateful just to sit. We could still hear the music from outside, but at least it didn't drown out conversation.

We stopped next at Northern Lights Books to pickup a book I had ordered. Another cool and quiet stop. Later I learned the temperature had gotten to 80; the last online prediction I had seen had said 70. When we came out, runners were still coming down the home stretch.

We headed up Lake Avenue to Superior Street. As we walked down Superior Street, we still saw runners; they had well over a mile and a half to go. We saw flashing lights up the course all across the road and figured that was the official closing of the race. Sure enough two patrol cars drove slowly past us, and all remaining runners were now on the sidewalk, almost all walking.

Although I had only stood in place, I dreaded even going uphill to where my wife had parked. We took a zig zag route to minimize the incline at any one point.

When we got home, it was all I could do to check up on the news from Iran and type a few notes about the day. Even today, after over nine hours of fairly good sleep, I have to overcome inertia to type this.

Will I do it again? Not next year because we have a family gathering at race time. I'm not even sure I'll do any more outdoor singing, especially busking for an hour or more. Frankly, I need to build more stamina for lots of singing. Secondly, I kept a long sleeve shirt on to avoid sunburn. I have no sunburn, but I have heat rash on one arm. Burned if you do, burned if you don't.

My posts to Irregular Blog may be just that for awhile

Thanks to my eight regular subscribers for checking in regularly. I would like to reward you with some new insight or new oddball idea everyday, but I've become preoccupied with another project.

I've volunteered to sing on the sidelines of Grandma's Marathon. However, most of my repertoire is too slow or otherwise inappropriate to cheer runners on. So, I've been busy writing lyrics to upbeat folksongs just for Grandma's: I've been running in the Marathon, all the livelong day and She'll be running around Superior when she comes.

I was so involved writing lyrics last night that I never got around to writing a blog. And I still have to practice and practice and practice these songs by the 20th!

Going to the cabin today didn't help my time allotment. BTW, something interesting had happened, but the next Adventure of Superwoodsman will have to wait to another time.

BTW2, I've been assigned to entertain the runners and bystanders at the Ordean Bldg. at the corner of Superior St. and Fifth Ave. W. If you can elbow your way over there, I'd appreciate it.

I am a busker

I had a message on my answering machine yesterday that I will be busking at Tweed Museum on the UMD campus on April 18 from 11 to 2. The busking is part of the Gallery Hop, a tour of art galleries in Duluth organized by the Public Arts Commission.

The call was because the caller couldn't quite decipher my email address; she wanted to send written confirmation. I know my handwriting can be bad, but my printing too? I left a message this morning.

I also sent in an application yesterday for a busking permit for the season to the Parks and Recreation Department. I probably shouldn't have. Only twenty will be selected. I probably wouldn't even perform once a week, and if I were selected, I would be taking the slot of someone who would perform more often. I'll have to ask to have my application put at the bottom of the pile.

Now I have to get cracking on memorizing several songs.

I'm a baritone...

My tones are bare of any musical qualities.

This was triggered after choir practice when two musicians far, far better than I am (and calling me a musician is generous) were discussing forming a jazz group. One asked the other if he was a tenor. The second replied that he was more a baritone.

My playing with words works far better than my playing with notes.

Sing your heart out! To hell with having any talent!

Or dance, play an instrument, write, draw or paint, play a sport, but do not let anybody dissuade you because you "don't have any talent." You are not born with the diatonic scale in your head you are not born with the ability to write a complete sentence; you are not born with ability to draw with perspective; and you are not born with all the rules and strategy of any particular sport in your head.

I just proved this again to myself with a solo in church. I sang "Where have all the flowers gone?" and was amazed by the number of people who congratulated me after the service. I've done a couple of solos before at church but they were somewhat more tentative. I filled the room with my voice today!

I made a few mistakes in notes and timing, but the overall tone was resonant and spirited. If we look for perfection in performance, we will never do anything. A friend noticed that a violin soloist at the symphony made a few mistakes early in her performance. This soloist is a professor of music and the concert-mistress of the symphony!

Six years ago lot of people didn't want to sing near me. At one concert, the whole bass section shifted to the right as the others tried to get away from me. But with the express invitation of the church choir director and her encouragement, with the help of six years of voice lessons, and with the patience of my excellent singer wife, I've slowly improved.

I wonder if my voice teacher still thinks I would embarrass myself performing at an open mike night. I know I still have a long way to go on timing and consistent pitch.

For more of my thoughts on our ability to sing, see my article Why Don't Men Sing? and an earlier blog entry Why don't men sing?

Why don't men sing?

A couple of years ago I wrote a column "Why Don't Men Sing" for the Reader Weekly. I gave various cultural reasons for men's lack of interest in singing. One I mentioned was our becoming more passive with respect to entertainment because of radio and TV. John Allen Paulos gave a broader look at this problem in Innumeracy: Mathematical Illiteracy and Its Consequences.

He wrote that the averages in a small collection and a large collection are about the same but that the extremes will be wider in larger collections. For example, in a small town there may be some good singers, but in a large city there may be some even better singers. When the small town singers performed in their home town, people appreciated them. However, as people in the small town heard the better singers available in the big city on radio and TV, they were no longer satisfied with their neighbors' singing. This is even more discouraging to beginning singers because they are judged by a cruelly higher standard.

We can see the reverse in the performances of small children. Some indulgent adults go overboard in praising any effort by small children, even if half of them can't even be heard. That is, the wonder is not how well they sing, but that they sing at all. It's a pity that encouragement of effort won't last for more of their lives.