Venus and Mars

Typically they'll tell you to stay away from your "opposite sign", though you'll be attracted there your whole life long.  Opposites attract, but shouldn't get together.  But quite often you'll see Librans paired with Aries.

I think of my father (Aries) marrying his second wife (Libra), after a particularly hopeless combo with another air sign (Gemini) who happened to be my mother.  My mother's eldest brother (Libra) married an Aries, and I'm told the police were often called to the house.  A musician friend of mine, who arranged one of my songs in Charlottesville, Virginia seemed to be an Aries of a different sort than the ones I had known.  He married a Libran, but discretion prevents me from telling you how he describes her.

My sense was that the Aries was seeking redemption through the Libran, such was my prejudiced view of all those born under the sign of Mars.  I've since developed a more balanced view given a greater variety of Martians that I've met.

One famous pair makes an interesting study.  Thomas Jefferson, third president of the U.S., was born April 13, 1743 (with the Gregorian adjustment).  He married Martha Wayles Skelton, born October 19, 1748.  They were together ten years during which she produced six children (only two of them reaching adulthood).

They gave each other music, he being no slouch on the violin, she on the fortepiano he bought her.  Interestingly, this means "loud-soft" in Italian, which might describe the Venus-Mars combo neatly enough.  Their vocal duets scared off numerous suitors sure they could not compete with the redhead.

He described their years together as "unchequered happiness", and he never married again after she passed.  He thus entered the White House a 19-year widower, handling much of the social demands himself--and with the help of Dolley Madison from time-to-time.

This was not to be recommended in those days, to function at such a high office without a loyal wife.  Such must have been his sense of loss.

His daughter said that she herself could not describe properly his grief.  It seems that he holed up in his room for three weeks, pacing back and forth until exhaustion.

A Man of Peace?

October 19 has a long history of bringing peace to the world.  On this day in 1453 the Hundred Years War came to a close.  In 1466 on the same day the Thirteen Years War ended.

Cornwallis surrendered to George Washington on this day in 1781, ending the American Revolutionary War.

Napoleon retreated from Moscow on this day in 1812.  In 1813 he would suffer one of his worst defeats at the Battle of Leipzig.  Any defeat of Napoleon must be viewed as a striking a blow for peace, n'est ce pas?

Two major exceptions complete a cycle:  in 202 BC the Battle of Zama resulted in the defeat of Carthage and Hannibal, only to have the Vandals take Carthage on the same day in AD 439.

(The fact that the Ivy League drafted the first code of American football rules on this day in 1873 should perhaps be overlooked.)

As I was born on October 19, would it be proper for me to consider myself a Man of Peace?

"Excuse me, are you Jewish?"

Hasidic Jew

That's a strange thing to be asked walking down a busy sidewalk some morning in Washington, D.C.

Turned out an Hasidic Jew was looking for two Jews to meet a quorum for prayer service.

I replied that I was expanding my mind, did that count? 

"Not today", he said.

On noting the Nazi nature of profiling people on the street as to their ethnic appearance, he said

"Nazi-like would be telling you you're nothing."

Reminding him that the Nazis profiled as to Aryan-like features he claimed he couldn't tell what I looked like with my sunglasses.

I took the opportunity to ask him about the new Pope, "while we're on the topic of Nazis", I said, hopelessly prefiguring his response.

"What are you going to do, he was just a kid.  Let's see what he does now, that's more important," he replied dismissively.

He went back to his search for two more Jews, and I to my wondering at the impact of this new Pope on people of my faith.

What's in a Symbol?

I attended Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia for the academic year 1977-78, back when it was still an all-male school. It went co-ed 1984.

I always thought the school symbol looked a little like a swastika.  Now I'm seeing something else in it.

Archangel

After writing some fifty song lyrics, in several varieties and genres, I've finally performed one of them live in front of an appreciative audience.  "Lonesome Mountain Blues", from my bluegrass set, seems to have hit a chord.  Actually numerous ones, according to my guitarist, Paul Young, but I don't really understand that sort of thing.

Paul's the genius behind the Young Brothers (at least he's the eldest of three, so I have to say that about him).  He took to my lyrics like some sort of avenging musical angel.  I gave him the URL for the lyrics one Sunday morning, rather serendipitously encountering him on a sidewalk by my home.  On the way out I'd just grabbed a notebook for entering his e-mail address, something I'd forgotten to do in numerous previous discussions about how one day were were going to have to "get together" over my lyrics and make ourselves hugely famous.  So of course I run smack into him.

You see, he lived directly across the street from me.  See the Hand of Destiny?

He looked at the lyrics, and it was "freaky", he says:  he had a recording down on tape a couple of hours later.  Kind of like "The Day God Invented Bluegrass".

His middle name is Michael, which is my first name.  It means "who is like God" in Hebrew (and Michael was one of the archangels).  The musician who got me started writing lyrics (and poetry, if truth be told) was also there.  His middle name is Michael, as is his father's (but he goes by it anyway).

Immediately upon arrival "Hank", a "bones" player (old-timey percussion) started up a conversation, hitting on a number of common elements (Georgetown University, WHFS, old-time music, etc.)  He said something freaky had happened that night.  "See that guitarist up there?  I haven't seen him in 30 years.  That's the last time we played together.  And he shows up here tonight."

The guitarist's name?  Michael.

See I used to listen to the mandolin player's band in Charlottesville, Virginia years ago at a place called Michael's Bistro (they named it for me, but before I even got to town).  That's where it all started for me, where I got back into bluegrass music, where I got the whatever it takes to start writing lyrics and poetry.

So last night at Tiffany Tavern in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, it all came together.  At least five musicians said they liked "Lonesome Mountain Blues"; remarkable considering it's the first of my songs I've performed, and the first time we performed it for anyone.  And the barmaid asked me to marry her.

(One of the above statements is untrue.  See if you can guess which one.)

Soon I'll be living an Elton John existence, dripping in gold jewelry.  I'll have my own float in the parade, and I won't be speaking with the Little People anymore.

Thank you Ben Hulan and Sugar Grove for making this possible.