Ann Carol Goldberg

There are people we encounter in daily life and often take for granted. They include salesclerks and cashiers in grocery stores, retail stores, other shops, ice cream scoopers, nurses, PA’s, nurses aids, custodians, medical techs, doctors, waiters, waitresses, people in neighboring seats at a venue, children (a special favorite), traffic cops halting traffic for pedestrians at festivals or venues and one of my favorites? guards in museums and art galleries. These people are there to help us, to serve us and need to be noticed as more than two feet on the floor. I enjoy engaging them in conversations when feasible to inquire about their stories. They often open up and answer my inquiry with enthusiasm stopping to help other patrons.

1, three recent encounters; a clerk in a grocery store, young woman from Venezuela whose family emigrated to the US several years ago when she was about 12. They walked through every kind of weather and crossed the Treacherous Darian Gap. entering through Mexico and the southern border with her younger sister, mom and dad and an elderly and ill grandmother, but miraculously making it through all of the other hardships en route.

 

2. Museum guards, I talk to museum guards. They fade into the walls of a museum or art gallery, watching, waiting. They caution people if they are too close to a work of art, are crossing the viewing line and are mostly ignored by the patrons Their feet hurt, their legs hurt, their backs hurt. Some may change location every couple of hours. They work long hours with short breaks and are highly knowledgeable about the displays, historical factors and exhibits. The most frequent questions they handle are “where are the bathrooms?” “or where is a specific exhibit?”

In speaking with them I learn so much more about the exhibits, individual pieces on display, the history of the building, the history of an artist or culture and learn about their families and birthplace as well as their stories as immigrants, becoming American citizens, or recent worry about deportation, education, applying for the job and being hired, level of training and degree of satisfaction on the job. They thank me for taking the time to converse with them and sharing my point of view of a particular work or tidbits of history about a display items.

Traffic Cops at crossroad or crowded venues. They help us cross the street safely, give directions when asked, and again are on their feet in all kinds of weather, small and large crowds, busy streets, school crossings, festivals, concerts and more. They too are ignored. If things are quiet, I thank them for their help, and in slow times, hear their stories. Again, many are immigrants sharing their hardships and joys, frightened for family members left behind, grateful for the America we used to know, worried about the America that they thought would be welcoming and free.

3. Medical aides, Librarians and more: nurses, doctors, PA’S, burned out by the long hours, long pay and again, ignored by many patients. They too are human beings with stories and tales to tell. They tell me that most people, probably in great pain, can be mean, harsh and demanding. Just a smile and a thank you would heal their angst. Many of them tell me of their families. Very often after a long shift in hospital, surgery, techs or office staff, they go home to serve as caregivers to ill family members, parents, relatives, children with special needs and manage to cook and play and sleep for their return to work. Of course, Covid results in fewer staff members burning out and looking for other work. Thanks to all of those wonderful folks. It is a joy to take time to notice them and ask about their stories. It results in smiles and hugs. And mention of other workers, library staff dealing with banned books, Universities and unrest, and the whole scope of governmental and illogical changes. Bring back our open and welcoming arms.

ANGST

1. Angry

     2. Nervous

        3. Grieving

           4. Sad

              5. Terrified

I awake every morning, if I have indeed slept well

With these feelings gripping my stomach and my head

And frequent angst during my waking hours

It is a staircase of fear as to what the current government will do next

Insanity, self interest, cruel job cuts and firings

Where do we go from here?

Thanks to the judges who refuse to listen or comply and

Those who have planned the multitudes of protests, loud and clear.

Make your voices heard!

My hands hold
the pattern that
          holds them fast. Your

hands pluck the string
          to make the music
that frees me up

          at last. We lift away
entanglements

 

and so on for many verses continuing in this fetching style. So begins the poem by Amit Majmudar as received in my inbox from Knopf publishers and their annual celebration of poetry sent every April to your email for a month of “A Poem a day”. Cat’s Cradle is neither a soft cat bed nor a hammock for your cat’s frequent cap naps. We all know they sleep ¾ ‘s of the day. Don’t we all wish we could sleep as soundly without all of that time wishing we were asleep. But that is a different problem.

Mujmudar’ Cat’s Cradle poem is full of memories that I share from my childhood, and since, have taught to many children and young adults. It can be played solo or with a friend. Loops of string are held by the fingers and then pulled taught so the strings can be maneuvered with the fingers into different configurations. Some are named, such as “Witch’s Broom”. The game is addictive and does not need electronics or a ton of money to buy. If you are not familiar with the game, go to YouTube and search the many results. Videos are included as well. Then you can teach it to your children, nieces, grandchildren or friends. Guys, you can play it as well. Personal note, with my arthritic fingers is more difficult to maneuver.

 

The history of the game; It may have started in China, or the Middle East. It had many different names, traced back to the 1700’s, often called “Catch Cradle”; referring to the cradle in which Jesus was born. I am not sure I could play the game with out snarling the yarn with my arthritic fingers. However I am not sure I could play many of the childhood games such as jump rope, Tidily winks or Ball and Jacks. I played that game daily in grade school, arriving early so we could have B and J tournaments. I was the class champion, winning most of the time. I hope you enjoyed this journey back in time and enjoy when you share your stories.

Nowadays, the youngsters play anything electronic and often solo not with friends. Times change but the old remains in our memories. Back to the NYT crossword puzzle and solitaire on my computer. Just thought I would share and seek your memories.

 

          

So much is on my mind that I feel as if I were on a highway in a can of worms, chasing ramps round and round and getting nowhere. The stories every day are the same with some differences in the casts of characters. The question of a “happy” year to come with the country still so split; is a dream considering 4 years ahead being lead by a crazed, criminally convicted would be king shepherding his doting brain-washed disciples. The News seems to repeat the same stories day after day little progress moving ahead.

1. wars on many fronts and doubts regarding cease fire on all war fronts, most especially in my heart and mind; Israel/Gaza,

2. populations becoming refugees suffering, trying to escape with their lives and families,

3 Deportation threats from a president elect who lacks compassion excepting for himself,

4. Extreme weather world round, caused by dire and belated environmental issues,

5. mass shootings, such hatred and abuse-whatever happened to “all humans men and women are created equal,”we all are made from the same mold and come in designer colors. What has happened to-”love thy neighbor as thyself.”

As you know, there are a multitude of individuals and funding organizations with the means to meet these needs. Cases in point: Hillary Clinton, Secretary of State played a huge roll in saving the lives of thousands of Afghan women in May of 1921, and the quick, dangerous and heroic withdrawal of these desperate woman under threat from the Taliban. They were evacuated under harsh conditions and identified by the white scarfs wound around their necks to safety. It was a contentious and dangerous effort but she pulled it off from the Situation room talking to officers in the country and receiving their help. It is breath taking chapter in her book, Something Lost, Something Gained, copyright 2024.

Being well informed locally, nationally and internationally is important and delving into the true source of news we hear and read. Conversing with folks from many points of view with an open mind promoting ideas that helps us grow no matter our political beliefs and age. I want to feel confident that this year will bring promise and solutions to some of the problems that we all face. The earth we share is our home, we must cherish and protect it by supporting those who have some power and devote our lives to ensuring we have done our part in taking charge of the future.

Israeli women are devoted as well to reaching a peaceful solution and bringing the Hostages home. The are devoted to this cause. For photos go to

https://www.gettyimages.com/search/2/image?phrase=israeli%20woman%20soldiers&sort=mostpopular&license=rf%2Crm

For photos of these Afghan women, copy and paste this URL- https://www.gettyimages.com/search/2/image?sort=mostpopular&phrase=afghanistan&license=rf%2Crm

 

We headed into Memphis,   eastern bound 

To celebrate my birthday, with dinner on the town

After parking the JEEP we walked up the ramp

to the restaurant we had chosen, with a curious name, hard to figure,

the Complicated Pilgrim. The chairs are cushioned, more comfortable to sit

Soft fabrics covered everything to absorb the chatter to a tolerable pitch

Tables were spaced to give privacy galore.

Service was slow, but we had all night,

And would gain an hour to return to mother nature’s time frame making it right

A lovely meal we enjoyed, served by Shea, a hard working waitress with a smile very bright.

We departed the restaurant a lovely birthday gift to me, Paul plugged in our destination GPS it was to be. We joked about the closed bridge on the route 55 but with detours at every turn we were stuck,

Feeling like Charlie on Boston’s MTA. going round in circles scratching our heads, we said we have seen every crook and cranny of Memphis, enough is enough. We must look for route 40, that was the answer to our puzzle, after 35 minutes, back to west of the Mississippi shore we did indeed return. Home and parked behind the motor home to unwind and watch the barges navigate

in the river of so many dreams, hopes and good times and hard times.

A memorable birthday. I just wanted to share. I hope the rather free verse made you smile a bit more: Something we all need in the weeks to come. May the year bring peace, unity, healing, a strong democracy and steady government in the land that we cherish and love.

Note; Most of you know I enjoy feedback to my blogs and enjoy your stories, so please share.

If you cannot open the blog, go to my website and read it there and view my photo gallery at

cgstudio.net​​

 

  

The joys of crossing the country in our RV have always been the freedom to change our route on a whim. My loving husband Paul is an expert on mapping our route and finding camping stops. Our aim is to visit friends when possible or discover new adventures. This is our 6^th day on the road since leaving Rochester and we have visited dear friends in Cleveland, June and Bert and their daughter Beth who is recovering from a difficult but thank goodness, successful kidney transplant. We met June at Tommy’s, a popular restaurant with line-up of hungry folks lined up outside. We had reservations, no waiting, and enjoyed a delicious lunch with more talk than chewing. I had wanted to take a gift to Beth but did not know what would work, Food? Other? June suggested Beth’s favorite sandwich and smoothie from Tommy’s; a perfect takeout. We drove to Beth and her devoted husband Jim’s house, they moved in two months before an appropriate kidney was found, a lovely, contemporary

home awaited her return. We played with their dog and 2 cats and admired the embellishments they made to the house reflecting their eye for design and color. Beth is doing amazingly well, hooked to Oxygen but walking and enjoying life on this side of surgery. What a wonderful visit reflecting, healing, love and happiness.

We departed the next day for Columbus, OH to visit Lee Cherney, whom Paul and I have known since Kindergarten. The two of them graduated from Brown University as well. Lee is a wonderful musician. He plays guitar, Banjo,

 Mandolin and any other string instrument he gets into his hands. The basement of his house is a “museum” of vintage, unusual and contemporary string instruments such as this Mongolian “3 hole” instrument hanging on the wall and the Vintage Mandolin in his arms, banjos and an army of guitars It was a joy to see Lee again. But we must move onward. The next stop, Louisville, KY, our first time in that lovely city.

We did the one day, a Monday, tourist stint; The Louisville Slugger Museum and factory. 

The exhibits feature the long history of baseball in America and introduce all of the great players and their custom made bats. We opted for the walking tour where the guide explained the complex manufacturing process. We were directed to touch nothing and stay within the yellow floor markings for safety. Videos explained the process in good

detail. At the end of the tour, we were each given a small size bat as a fun souvenir. Our hope was to visit the Art Museums in the area but they are closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. We drove to Churchill Downs to view the vast and famous stadium but skipped the large museum, as it was late in the day and headed back to the campground. As is our habit, we try to meet and talk to folks wherever we go and had several friendly conversations about our travels and rigs. There is a train track 100 yards from our windows, thus the photo of the train trundling by. How I love the sound of the train, powerful and full of freight or better yet, people and all of their stories.

It was time to get on board. A tour bus pulled

 up next to our rig to return tourists to the campground. Tomorrow, we depart for Nashville and tune up our ears for more adventures, with tickets for The Grand Ole Opry. 

A reminder that I welcome feedback and your stories. I share my birthday with my wonderful grandson Azriel on November 2nd. Her is hoping for a good birthday present on the 5th. Don’t forget to exercise your vote.

 

Yes, I have aged, grateful for that but, along with other symptom of aging so go my vocal cords. They have atrophied, right in line with the aging process. No part of the body is exempt from loosing flexibility, strength, and tonality. The old cords do not vibrate as strongly or as rapidly as in my “youth.”  My breathing is compromised as well, but I get along. I am not alone in this change in my life. I still want to sing. I have sung most of my life, starting as a toddler. I was known on our street-(#31) Edgerton Street in Rochester, NY, as the cute little girl who likes to perform and was invited every warm summer night to sing for the neighbors on their porches, most especially, the Starrs, Shubeners and Luries. Neighborhood pet kitty cats and dogs being walked, their mistresses or masters would stop by to listen along with my beloved mom and dad in tow. I sang lullabies, requests, a song called “Country Gardens” and other tunes and on request I whistled some tunes as well. I loved the applause and bowed deeply, raising hurrahs from the audience and pinches on my pudgy cheeks.

I continued singing for the rest of my life to date, studied voice and joined choirs, Brighton High School, and The Brightonaires (a 12 person chorale selected from many at the audition), University of Buffalo, the Rochester Oratorio Society, Temple B’rith Kodesh choir and the Rochester Jewish Chorale, performing solos or duos, quartets for events. I continued for years including joining our annual July Sing-along in the beautiful and acoustically rich Kilbourn hall, located in the Rochester Kodak hall-Eastman Theatre building. Every Tuesday night in July, we meet in Kilbourn Hall, a beautiful 750 seat theatre with wonderful acoustics. Upon arrival, we would pay our $5.00 fee to rent the libretto, (Cantatas, Requiems, short operas) and then find a seat in the appropriate section (alto for me) and greet our seatmates. What company we are in; surrounded by great singers, some professional performers, teachers, lovers of music and song, of all ages. But on these evenings we are all equal. The conductors are guests or. faculty members of the Eastman School of Music. They are so talented, guiding us through the read-through rehearsal, after a wonderful warm up, stretching our bodies and vocalizing to wake up our voices, then a break followed by a full performance. My seat mates would share their stories as professionals and vocal cord trouble or demise. We would commiserate with each other, give it our all or mouth the words when encountering difficulty.

Many famous singers have have suffered from deficiencies in their vocal abilities. I recalled news reports and (auto)biographies of well known singers with aging voices or long lasting bouts of laryngitis and other dreaded ailments. They include; Adele. She has experienced a few vocal disorders including a “vocal fold hemorrhage and a benign polyp on her vocal cords.” Celine Dion has “stiff-person syndrome (SPS), a rare neurological disorder that affects the vocal cords and makes it difficult to sing.” Julie Andrews, “underwent surgery in 1997 to remove noncancerous nodules on her vocal cords and ended up losing her singing voice.” Whitney Houston‘s voice “was damaged by years of drug use, smoking, and her demanding performance schedule, only recovering 75 % of her vocal ability after long years of coaching.” Luciano Pavarotti “had nodules that caused him to cease singing for a long while.” Keith Urban (Polyps; “had surgery to remove vocal polyps. Elton John “underwent surgery that permanently lowered his vocal range.” So, I dare not complain. In the words of Whitney Houston, “God gave me a voice to sing with and when you have that, what other gimmick is there?” When in trouble, I just try to vocalize and raise above the difficulty, singing from the diaphragm as I have for years. On bad days, I do not sing for fear of more difficulty with my voice. Life is too short to dwell on our shortcomings. There are too many other parts of living that give us peace of mind and heart. Family and friends are on top of the list.

Note; enjoy your feedback. My blogging has been dormant for a long time busy just living. Our lives are about to change. In a few days, we will drive west toward our RV community in Jojoba Hills, California, and in the spring, sell our motor home and drive back to Rochester to stay. We are excited, When the right time comes, change is good.

 

 

1922, My father, Herman Rudin was 16 years old, a fine violinist already and living in Rochester, NY. His Violin teacher, Mr Herman Surasky, encouraged my dad (his nickname was Hy) to audition for the newly formed Civic Music Association Orchestra, the forerunner to the now great Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra. He was readily accepted and hired, playing on the stage of the Eastman Theatre, built on the behest of George Eastman of Kodak fame. Eventually, Hy was asked to play in the Viola section as there were too many violins, (not an uncommon problem). He did so and in 1928 married my mother, Sophie Caplan from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. My husband Paul has found the Ancestry document recording their move to Rochester. They had been courting after meeting at a party in Rochester. My brother, Arthur (may he rest in peace) was born in 1929 and played the cello then the bass violin-jazz. I was born in 1942 and as a youngster, would hang on the balcony above the first floor piano space and eagerly listen to their practice sessions. My dad played with the RPO until 1977 when he passed away at age 71. His compositions were played by the RPO on many occasions. There are so many stories to tell as an “orchestra brat” and later, Paul and I as advocates for better pay and extended seasons. I remain very proud of my father (he became head librarian and Personnel manager as well at later dates. My beautiful mother tolerated the difficult schedule of an orchestra member and remained very proud of him while making a career for herself as a Pediatric nurse. I will stop here and attach the file for Herman Rudin held at the Sibley Music Library in Rochester, Peter Coppen Chairman. Anyone wishing to take on the research and documentation, students, scholars can gain access through Mr. Coppen and I hope you enjoy his journey below.

Herman-Rudin-Collection

 

National Poetry Month has a long history. My first year receiving daily POEMS began in April, 2010, savoring a month-long dose of daily poems and sources from Knopf Publishers; see below to sign up.

I have eagerly awaited the Month of April since that year for the wonderful poems that I would receive and could not have found on my own. I have developed a string of favorite poets and poetry and various styles of poetry. I couldn’t begin to share them all, that would necessitate a course over months/years time and I am not qualified enough to do that. Therefore, if you do love Poetry and want to be part of this venture, read on. My research results;

Who started it? “It was inspired by Black History Month and Women’s History Month. In April, 1996 by the Academy of American Poets marking April as National Poetry Month to turn the attention of the world towards the art of poetry.”

Furthermore, “National Poetry Month is a registered trademark of the Academy of American Poets. Why was April chosen for National Poetry Month?  In coordination with poets, booksellers, librarians, and teachers, the Academy of American Poets chose a month when poetry could be celebrated with the highest level of participation.”

I refer you to search for my oldest entry in 2010, and 2 recent sources; (W. S. Piero and Ruth Padel-“the Great, Great, Great Granddaughter of Charles Darwin.” and  Patrick Phillips Juilate Civitas.) for which pizza will never be the same. Sign up, read. savor and enjoy the rhymes and reason. 

To sign up go to https://knopfdoubleday.com/knopf-poetry-signup/

The book is entitled;  The Secret Life Of Sunflowers: A gripping, inspiring novel based on the true story of Johanna Bonger, Vincent Van Gogh’s sister in law. 

I read the Kindle ebook  version as I love to poke words and search items in the text for further insight into so many topics. Here is a brief synopsis quoted from the Amazon Book search;

“When Hollywood auctioneer Emsley Wilson finds her famous grandmother’s diary while cleaning out her New York brownstone, the pages are full of surprises. The first surprise is, the diary isn’t her grandmother’s. It belongs to Johanna Bonger, Vincent van Gogh’s sister-in-law.  Johanna inherited Vincent van Gogh’s paintings. They were all she had, and they weren’t worth anything. She was a 28 year old widow with a baby in the 1800s, without any means of supporting herself, living in Paris where she barely spoke the language. Yet she managed to introduce Vincent’s legacy to the world.  The inspiration couldn’t come at a better time for Emsley. With her business failing, an unexpected love turning up in her life, and family secrets unraveling, can she find answers in the past?”

You will meet many characters in the Van Gogh family and other picturesque characters. It was hard to put the book down. 

I experienced the 2022 traveling Van Gogh wall high experience shown in over 40 U.S. Cities, housed in large video adapted warehouses, in immersive, surround video/sound extravaganzas?  This project enlightened many generations beyond his years and surrounded you with this famous artist’s work, innovative brush stroke style and brings glory to Johanna and her quest to show the work to the world. 

The story of Vincent Van Gogh as we all learned in art history courses present VG as highly reclusive, lacking in self confidence, tending toward frequent bouts of insanity and of course, learning that in a rage, he cut off of his ear and of his eventual suicide. It is all quite a dramatic story visualized through the now famous painting of his bedroom and other famous and innovative works of art. His road to fame was not easy and not anything this shy and timid artist would have pursued. In this novelized tale, we meet many family members and other characters that add to this visually rich book.  Author Marta Molar is a dedicated biographer, obsessed (20 years or more) in researching and telling the story of his sister-in-law Johanna. in the early 1890’s and her struggle to alert the art world of this great body of work. The chapters in the book are intertwined with Emsley, woman in the 1990’s finding a “green Diary” of her recording Jo’s pursuit to the end. 

I am so glad to be back to posting blogs after a long hiatus and a long history of postings. I started messages in a Minute posting on Mondays (mostly) because I was born on a Monday, a Monday child is obsessive. Please to to cgstudio.net to read the blog and I enjoy having feedback about books or any other topic that I may share.