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Sept. 3, 1998

Thank so much for your very long, thoughtful and informative letter. I'm responding immediately, before I have fully digested its contents, because I want to immediately extend my hand, figuratively, to Tacui.

I'm saddened to hear of all she has gone through, and you as well, but I am happy that you told me about it. Tacui, believe me I do empathize with you. I have certainly experienced the immediate fear of losing my vision, and as you know, I've lost over half of it. For what it's worth, which may be very little, I had to discipline myself in four ways. I had to accept and then discharge the fear - let it go. My left eye deterioration is not exactly arrested; it's just much slower now. I have to tell myself that there will still be a world out there if I go blind, others have found a way to deal with it, and if necessary I will too. I do not welcome this condition, but I simply refuse to see it as "the end".

Second, I had to let go of feeling sorry for myself, and feel happy that I had decent vision for as many years as I did. Oddly, I haven't found this very difficult. Maybe it's because I am not supposed to be alive at all, so that everything I have and have had is really "gravy".

Third, I've had to give up feelings of looking foolish - when I have to make sure my grip is secure before I pick something up, when I have to turn my head half way 'round to see something on my right, when I make a miscalculation and find I'm spilling a bit when I pour something into a glass or cup, etc. I have to forgive myself the exaggerated gestures I have to perform in order to compensate.

And fourth, I've had to discipline myself, well that's not quite the right word in this one - I've had to try to find ways to say to those who might be inclined to feel sorry for me, "Don't do that Understand, please, and then my compensations won't seem strange. But be glad for me that I can still see, at least at present, from one eye." Maybe this is all a bit Pollyannaish (sp.?), but these are things I've had to do for myself. I refuse to cut myself off from opportunities to feel happiness by lamenting that which I can never have again.

And I am happy for you, Tacui, that you're getting back your vision in the imperiled eye. Good Lord, when I think of the terror of having to risk a cranial operation, how could I possibly feel sorry for myself? You took a chance, and have come out the better for it. I think that's very good news.

I'm glad to have clarification of cause with respect to Fr. Trame's death. I prefer to remember the good things in the man, and file away the many problems he caused, to me and to others, when he was placed in any position of power or authority. I've met very few people with larger senses of self-rectitude, mostly self-conferred, and will let any comments go at that. He was of great help to Paul, which was important.

Like yourself, I have many positive memories of Elsbeth, and wish that it were still possible to express my great affection for her. I hope that I can say, without touching any sore points, that when Renata and I wanted to visit her, when we were in Germany, she would not allow us to do that. I think that she just wanted to be remembered as she had been.

Carroll, there's only one word I can think of to describe you in the saga of your many journeys over the previous six months, and that is "peripatetic". To tell you the honest to God truth, I could not do all that you have done. I would be literally dead from exhaustion. You must give yourself credit for your own stamina. Yes, your back finally gave out, a situation which I assume you've managed to get past once again. I have vivid memories of you holding up the old music and arts annex because of your back. - My friend, Ralph Grierson, has to wear a brace some of the time because of a diving board injury he sustained when young, and his keyboard playing in the studios, which he does for a living, exacerbates that old condition. (Whenever you see a film with music by John Williams, Maurice Jarre, Leonard Rosenman, Danny Elfman, Horner, Schiffrin, etc., etc., you'll probably be hearing Ralph on synthesizer of one sort or another, piano, harpsichord, roxichord, clavinette, whatever is wanted in the way of a keyboard instrument. He literally can't remember all the pictures he's played in any more, and after twice receiving the Most Valuable Player of the Year - Keyboard, from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, they finally just gave him a Lifetime Achievement Award. But he pays a price for this, not only in backaches but in terms of not having time to create his own music, which is what he mainly wants to do. I think you met Ralph and his wife Caroline, a nurse working on the cutting edge of biofeedback approaches to pain management, ADD management and control of epileptic seizures, at some of the more embracing parties I used to give at one time.) Anyway, I only got off on thinking about Ralph because of recollecting your back, as I recall, the result of an old football injury that comes back to haunt you from time to time.

Your comments on not feeling very good during the last time you were at Mammoth Lakes were/are very interesting to me. The last time I spoke with Bogidar, a few months ago, he said much the same thing. My own last experience there, two years ago, was also compromised by the fatigue and constant mild headache I had, something I had not experienced in previous summers. Do you suppose that something other than getting older and having more trouble adjusting to higher altitudes is at work here? I don't mean to become mystical about this; it's quite possible that with trees dying from carbon dioxide coming up through the soil, and other volcanic exhudations from subterranean sources, that some atmospheric problem may exist. Dead trees mean more carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide in the air, and perhaps other more subtle compounds - sulpherous compounds and such. I wonder when the last general atmospheric testing was done in the area. Well, it's just a thought. Much as I miss seeing my old friends from Bishop, Ridgecrest, Mammoth Lakes and other surrounding environs, I doubt if I'll be playing in the Eastern Sierra Music Festival anymore. I did that for well over twenty years, but I don't care to feel semi-sick for a week in order to do it again.

I promise, I will make you a list of the poems you have sent. And I'm kicking certain among them around in my head, in terms of vocal settings. One that you just sent, Reverance for Non-Heros, presents strong possibilities, and each of them is quite touching, with deep strata of melancholy. At this point I am thinking of doing a set, a few grouped around a common theme. But if I were to set something like Columbines I believe it would have to stand by itself because of its length. Don't get me wrong--this is not a left-handed criticism of the length of your poems. It's rather a matter of several factors, including how self-contained a poem is by itself, and the fact that the general rule of thumb is that a text, sung, is roughly 3X longer in performing time than the same poem is read, plus the time for any accompanimental interludes.

I could see Columbines standing by itself, Carroll. I think it would need a fairly large sized ensemble, probably orchestra, to do it justice in the accompaniment. The progression, from the almost shocking opening through the melancholy and tragedy of the central portions, to the radiance in the conclusion already provokes timbral and textural images in my mind's ear. - This I have to think about. I believe that I could probably get three among my colleagues, who are conductors, to at least consider giving such a work a performance. I believe Katherine Wright would sing it. But is her voice range what is right for projecting the tone of the poem? All these things go into the hopper, or should I say the mental mill, to be ground up, analyzed, considered, and then if it seems that this is the thing to do, to dissect further, digest and finally synthesize and put all together again, yielding something in which the poem and the music have become fused and something better than either would have been by itself.

In your letter you touch upon one of the basic questions in the vocal and especially operatic art. The question of which comes first, the words or the music? In general, for the composer the poem comes first, then the music. But there are situations in which the order is somewhat different. Sometimes the composer needs a few more lines, or needs to repeat a line, for things to come out right. (The correspondence between Richard Strauss and Hugo vonHofmannsthal as they worked together on such operas as DER ROSENKAVALIER, DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, ARABELLA, THE EGYPTIAN HELENA, etc., is very instructive about such things.) But in the case of already completed texts, unless a line is repeated for emphasis, most composers, including me, respect what is given. After digesting the sense of a poem, I'll make several rhythmic sketches of the words, without pitches, to insure that the scansion supports the spoken rhythms of the words. (Other composers, notably Stravinsky, and Copland in his Emily Dickenson Songs have taken very different approaches, sometimes using very fractured prosody to achieve different effects. I have no quarrel with them, but to me the natural accent, rise and fall of the word as spoken, is important and to be respected in the music.)
The accompaniment in my songs is intended (at least) to support the voice, reflect the mood of the song, underline significant points without "Mickey Mousing", and have relevant interest of its own. In addition there has to be musical structure/form, which doesn't violate that of the text but supports it as well.

And here we come to one of the hearts of what we might call the basic conflict between words, or drama, and music, and which has to be reconciled in some way. Drama, poetry and artistic prose tend to move from event to event, while musical forms tend to be circular, making a homeward journey in musical materials, and, in music in which some sense of a tonal "home base" exists, in the design of key centers employed. The Classic period had one answer for this, which was to suspend forward progress in such forms as Aria da Capo, essentially freezing a statement in time, and making statements twice. The 19th Century came up with different answers, such as associating a motive (characteristic small building block idea) with an emotion, thing, character or other relevant idea. So that as reference is made to same in the text, the music likewise makes the reference, tending to unify the music through re-reference to musical material and to support the drama in the different ways such motives are handled. We see that already in such song dramas as Schubert's Erlkoenig, and of course this find its apogee in the music-dramas of Wagner and the operas of Richard Strauss.

As an interesting side-note, Richard Strauss' final opera, Capricio, (which he called "A Conversation About Music" - libretto by Clemens Krauss) the main question is, "which is more important, the text or the music?" In one sense the question remains unanswered. The Grafin has not settled whether to have as a lover (or possibly marry) the composer or the poet, and contrary to usual operatic practice, the end of the opera is played to an empty stage. But in another sense Strauss may have provided his answer, because the music continues to bring the work to a conclusion even though the stage is empty. To me it is a specious question. Either can stand by itself - a poem or an instrumental composition. If the two are united, then both are equally important. But I will say that a good libretto has never saved bad music, while some operas have survived because of their music, even though, in my opinion, the text has not been its equal.

To return to the matter of musical form and text, I'm sure you see how the parallelisms work in The Ghosts of the Buffaloes. The first big 'forte' entrance of he chorus is echoed both in the music and in textual similarities, by the same music, given slightly different treatment in orchestration and so forth, in the big 'forte' music that follows the choral Basses unsupported low 'E' on "Then'" after the soft central section concerned with such as "Dreaming of massacres long past, Buffaloes in shambles vast". The thematic material that follows those 'forte' chorus + orchestra paragraphs mentioned but a moment ago, also is the same, again given different treatment because of the changed circumstances but still creating that circular unity, so that after the "A la la" in each case - well maybe it's better to sort of set it out in letters, or descriptive terms. The overall form could be set out like this: Intro. (orchestra, then joined by solo Bass), A (with chorus), B, C; Interlude; A1, B1, C1; Development; Postlude (with solo Bass again). One doesn't necessarily expect a listener to think of things in exactly this way, but there is still an underlying feeling of "the piece belongs to itself" when this works, and "I now recognize having heard this in a different context before", even if not verbally expressed, internally. Lindsay's poem was ideal for this kind of treatment because that was the way he structured this poem, with built-in parallelisms.

By the way, I do appreciate your comments on my music, and on the matter of a work of art of one kind inspiring a work of a different kind. As I said, I haven't fully digested your letter yet, but I'm working on it!

To return, briefly, once more, to questions of poetic form and musical form, I can already see that the first stanza has to contrast greatly with the second, in Columbines. (Underneath, questions flashing by, such as can the final stanza be a transformed, radiant version of material found in the first, in the music?) The longer stanzas 2 and 3 have the kind of contrast that can be supported by different treatment, but could themselves use similar basic materials. Thus, in the broadest possible sense, an overall musical form could be diagrammed, Intro.; A (Stanza 1); Interlude 1; B (Stanza 2); Interlude 2; B1 (Stanza 3); Development; A1 (Stanza 4) (possibly brief Postlude). This would create an arch-like musical structure in terms of its musical materials, but not of the sectional characters or moods, because the poem naturally ends up in quite a different place from where it began. Anyway, you can see how my thought processes are stimulated by your poems.

Thanks for the news about N. and about Jasper. It is a bit sad to me to think that N.'s libido has been so much reduced. It was bound to happen to a degree, and of course the older he gets the less attractive the "being a bad boy, with a woman on each arm" image would look. But still, what you might call his Don Juan's quest, searching for the ideal woman, is still a worthy search if conducted with a bit more decorum, and I might say, respect for the object (s) of his desire. One hates to think of the underlying impulse being extinguished in some way, that is, by anything other than finally attaining his desire. Ah, N. I fear that he mistook the flame for the candle, and didn't invest his emotional resources wisely.

And Jasper is happy? Well, then, so long as it lasts that's just fine. I remember Nathaniel Branden saying, when I was in a therapy group, that May - December relationships could work if both parties remained acutely conscious of the differences in their needs. It seems to work better when the man is the older person in such a partnership, doesn't it? Thinking back to when I was twenty seven I just couldn't have been sexually attracted to a seventy year old woman, though in many others senses I might love such a lady. I won't launch into any monologue here about how much more unfair culture and life are to women as they grow older, nor make any other comments about Jasper and his situation. That is, other than observing that there may be something in that old saw about there being nothing like a young woman to rejuvenate a man. Actuarily speaking it's all wrong, of course. The longer that L. stays with Jasper the more she will have to be prepared to be the survivor. But then, all songs, happy or sad, have to come to an end, and that isn't in and of itself a tragedy.

I promise you a letter worthy of yours in the near future. There are still things in what you have said that I have to think about……

Fondly,

March 16, 1999

Dear Carroll,

Of the two latest poems we just received (we) particularly enjoy Mrs. Lamb and the Orr Girls, though of course your reminiscence of the peripatetic randy rooster, Abraham, has much to recommend it too. Yes, some of the more adult oriented objects/thoughts/embodiments of things a bit deeper than the immediate are among the more difficult to share with peers when we're young. I really had no one with whom to share my own interest in symphonic music while in elementary school anymore than you found a soulmate with whom to share your enthusiasm for your discoveries in John Kiernen's edition of collected poems. (I fear that the poems I was reading at about that age were no more sophisticated than things like "Ivan Skavitzky Skivar", the more popular side of Tennyson and some of the children's verses by Robert L. Stevenson.) Just as you did I'm sure, I enjoyed the more extroverted games and such with friends of that era. Of course by the time of high school I could not have played football as you did - I was in the marching band, among those urging on the local heros of Barstow Union High School. But by then I did have a few buddies who were interested in music beyond the top 40, and we were reading Shakespeare, sociological studies like "White Collar" and "The Lonely Crowd", and poetry of a more elevated nature than that of Robert Service, as part of our College Preparatory track. (The loss of such distinctions among students has been a part of the incalculable damage that the egalitarian-ideology driven aspects of contemporary approaches to education has caused. "Mainstreaming" has contributed so much to the "dumbing down" of America, as one of several factors diluting curriculae, the substance of coursework and the kinds of expectations of themselves that we are supposed to be inculcating in students. This has been borne out in every study I've read, including such as "Minds At Risk", "The IQ Myth" and "The Closing of the American Mind", and by the evidence I see in the declining intellectual acuity of students encountered over a thirty one year span. What a price we're paying in order to avoid offending particular ethnic groups, and to keep students' heads in the sand, hoping they won't recognize that people have varying talents and abilities because it might hurt them socially. But I digress.)

I think we're both getting a bit nostalgic, possibly with a bit of rose tint in our lenses, as we revisit our youths, you in poetry and me in prose. I began a kind of autobiography, not for publication, not even to share with friends actually, but for my children and grandchildren should they ever desire to know anything about their ancestry after I'm dead. I think I will reproduce a chapter or two just to show you what I mean. (will do so when I have a suitable envelope). AN UNIDENTIFIED STATIONERY OBJECT was begun a bit over a year ago and I've added a chapter or two every couple of weeks, as recreatory time availability has permitted.

On other fronts, a couple of weeks ago my FIVE CONTRAPUNCTI for woodwind trio was performed at Berklee College of Music, on a bitter cold night augmented by the frigid winds blowing over the Charles River. It was played quite well, though with a bit more than an hour to spend with them--they had to learn the set on their own-I think I could have persuaded the performers to impart a bit more bite to the notes - play in the highly articulate and pointed fashion that I like, rather than in the more mellow 19th Century oriented manner - and to impart a larger dynamic scale to the whole. (Of course that's very difficult for woodwinds, and not generally because they've neglected to learn to play softly, although that can be part of it. I know of only one other oboist besides myself who took pains to really develop the fortissimo end of the scale, and that's not being vain but rather just a factual observation. Even my last teacher, William Criss (who has since died of cancer), who could start a sound from nothing, and could spin his tone down to 'niente', and was in every way a musician with consummate control of his instrument in every particular, could not compete with trumpets the way I could when I was a real oboist.) Anyway, I was mostly pleased, most things happened at the right times - no easy feat considering the technical difficulties posed, and the very tricky ensemble-togetherness requirements - and, to toot my own horn a bit, the other faculty and students whom I knew went out of their way to compliment me afterwards. They were/are "noggin knockers" to write, difficult for the performers and difficult for an audience in some ways. I hope the person who recorded the event will slip me a tape soon.

Currently I'm writing a much more accessible piece, something close to the Neoclassic side of Stravinsky in terms of sound-world, though my American roots would never actually permit a work of mine to be misidentified as one by that real master, the old, hermitic Manticore himself. "Inspired" by music for chamber-wind combinations by Mozart, Richard Strauss, and of course Stravinsky himself (though he wrote little for traditional-instrumentation ensembles; most of his chamber music is for idiosyncratic combinations), this Serenade is for ten winds, essentially standard orchestral woodwind section plus a pair of horns. It seems to be the piece I need to write right now, though I've not forgotten previous discussions in re: possible settings of poetry. Congruent with 18th Century performance practice, this begins with a little march, as the instrumentalists (figuratively in this case) troop into the courtyard. Like all of Mozart's serenades, the first movement proper (mvt. 2) is in sonata form. There will be three other movements, on which I've not yet begun, one lyrical, one in the manner of an updated 18th Century dance most likely, and a Finale, after which a softer version of the opening march will take the musicians out of the performing environment and tuck them into bed. I've already written the opening March and am well along in the Sonata. I already know how this piece goes, in my head, so it's just a matter of refining it while I commit it to paper. Though it will present some challenges, if conducted it should be within the capabilities of the better students in the Preparatory Department of the New England Conservatory, just down the street from Berklee.

Our hopes for an earlier than last year Spring were dashed yesterday as we received another six inches of snow. I love watching the snow fall. But just for the sake of variety it would be good to have an occasional day of sunshine, a few days with no coats or jackets and an opportunity to put in flowers again.

Mundane things need my attention. More later.

You old friend and onetime colleague,

June 25, 1999

Dear Carroll,

I was very glad to hear from you, while my Lord, what you've had to go through recently sounds like anything but a good time. Except for a tonsillectomy when I was three, in which they might also have removed my adenoids ( I really don't know what an adenoid is, I've never seen one, and I don't know whether any of them are in me right now) and oral surgery to cut out impacted wisdom teeth, I've managed to avoid having to have major surgery. And you've had to have two surgeries quite close together. Well, that's certainly preferable to the discomfort and disfiguration of a testicle grown to the size of a grapefruit.

Unlike you, I have few difficulties with codeine. But my first wife couldn't tolerate it at all. I felt genuinely sorry for her, as I observed her vomiting up the pain pills she took after her surgery. My uncle Wilbur, now deceased, was severely allergic to the usual anesthetics, something which came to light only when he nearly died during an operation for cataracs (sp?). I guess you know what to avoid, though I would try to find something that works without causing major distress if yours were my experience. I tolerate pain fairly well - since I'm never free of it, it's been a necessity to learn how to live with it - but still, I'm no hero, and was sure glad to have the codeine when my mouth-jaw area was twice its normal size following the oral surgery.

I too have been in contact with Bogidar. He sounds almost ecstatic, now that he has been able to retire from LMU, the happiest I have ever heard. He has concerts lined up in Bulgaria, and will be taking a chamber orchestra on a European tour, in addition to conducting the Symphony Orchestra of the Eastern Sierra Music Festival, as always. Unhappily, once again I cannot go to Mammoth Lakes, since it interferes with my summer session teaching at Berklee. Even if I were able to participate this year, I'm not sure that I would. The last summer during which I played there I felt the altitude the whole time, and I was distinctly uncomfortable negotiating the freeways, desert highways, etc., of southern California. Though there are many monocular drivers around these days, I find driving is just too risky in other than calm, easily handled rural circumstances.

And dear Nick. What a bummer for such a physically oriented person to be afflicted by extreme arthritis. He's fortunate to have an empathetic woman for a companion. So far my own arthritis, which I'm genetically programmed to develop, has been confined to my feet and knees (knock on wood). I manage to hobble around Boston, and strategize my necessary walks so that there are not too many blocks between places to sit down for a moment . But Nick - God, he'd miss his mobility a lot more than I do, or would.

Gosh, I miss you and Jasper, at least the Jasper that I used to know. But that Jasper was communicant, and wouldn't let letters go unanswered. I forgive him all and everything, only wishing he would somehow acknowledge the importance of that part of our pasts that was shared - I believe that we genuinely enjoyed each other - and would not shut me out of his present. He did, and probably still does, have such interesting ideas, comparing Christ and Dracula for example. Anyway, I'm glad to learn, through you, that he has a woman or women in his life (it's generally better with than without), though it sounds like she has somewhat more narrow interests than he. A compromise in the interest of love?

Thank you for your kind words regarding my FIVE CONTRAPUNCTI for Woodwind Trio. You're absolutely right that any monotony would spoil the whole thing, and I am pleased that you do not find them monotonous. I probably mentioned that I'm copying, and still working on parts of a Serenade for woodwinds plus horns. The intellectual challenges involved in doing this are of a different order than those posed by severe contrapuntal strictures, and give a different kind of more immediate pleasure in the writing.

I'm ashamed to say I had forgotten your Swedish connections in terms of a grandfather. Doubtless you had mentioned this to me before. And I guess you know that my father's mother was a full Swede, a Benson in patrimony, a Griffen on her mother's side. I hope that you have a wonderful trip. It sounds as though Georg is not really the type of person that I associate with engineering, living the life of a poet perhaps, and free of the "Class A" behavior associated with working for high-tech firms. I will wish for you many pleasant evening, enjoying the company of your friends at a "slow pace", as you say.

Has there been any change (for the better, I hope in Tacui's "smeller"? Or is improvement just out of the question? I hope that you will greet her for me.

And now I must cease in the interest of trying to make my basement cum workspace, listening area, etc., a little more presentable for my cousin Neil, who will be coming to visit for a few days. He teaches Latin and French in Mandan,, North Dakota, and has educated himself in Polish as well. At one time he was considering becoming a priest, but I guess he made a choice that was more congenial to his true nature, though I believe he would have made a good parish minister, or scholastic. Anyone who can sell adolescents on the virtue of studying Latin, in North Dakota at that, has earned my admiration. His students love him, and his classes are full to overflowing. Of any of my cousins on my father's side, I have felt Neil to be the most "simpatico" with me. We would be friends even if we were not related.

I'll expect to hear about a refreshing and warm, good experience when you have returned from your forthcoming journey.

All my best,

May 17, 2000

Dear old friend,

The time is nearly here when I should be able to engage in what are for me pleasurable activities, such as finishing the rewrite of my SERENADE for winds, and re-reading some of your poetry. Tomorrow I'll send my grade sheet in by Express Mail, and tuck this past semester to bed.

Unfortunately, having time to do more of the personally productive things this summer is occasioned by terrible health, bad enough that I had to cancel my contract to teach summer school. I'm so damned anemic that I can't even walk more than a couple of blocks before my legs won't work any more. Red blood cells are too few, and (I'm told) entirely too small, with the whole condition falling under the general rubric, "Iron Deficiency Anemia". Naturally I'm taking iron, and never have had an iron deficient diet. That suggests that I'm having some sort of problem absorbing the iron. Yes, there is evidence of some internal bleeding, so that Friday I have to have an endoscopic procedure and a colonoscopy, but I very much doubt that this is anything but a minor contributor. One should have a colonoscopy about once every ten years in any case, and though undignified and uncomfortable, at least they give one terrific drugs that compensate in a small measure for the day of fasting and drinking that awful, vile tasting Colight. (The last one I had was with a Dr. Mellow in Los Angeles. The demorol (sp.?) and valium combination was such I found myself asking him, "Well what do you think of my rectum as a (w)hole?" The nurse thought that the question was funny anyway, even though Dr. Mellow didn't really live up to his name.) I'm told that the drug I'll be given this time acts like a real anesthetic, and though I'll be conscious I won't remember a thing. Anyway, after this is done perhaps some effort will be expended in finding what I think will be the real problem. The internist mentioned a potential bone marrow problem. Whatever, so long as I can get over being so fatigued all the time. I made it through so many maladies and near medical disasters as a child, including having an immune system that permitted me to have chicken pox three times and mumps twice, that I imagine I'll get past this one too. As I've mentioned to you before, every day that I've lived past age 12 is actually "gravy", and I'll be turning 59 this summer.
…………
I heard from Bogidar about a week ago. The concerts he conducted in Bulgaria were successful, and he really enjoyed having some time to spend with his father. (His mother died some years ago.) Unhappily, during a dress rehearsal he must have given a particularly violent upbeat, because his baton entered his ear and punctured his ear drum. He fainted dead away, baton in ear, fell off of the podium and suffered a concussion. Ilke has a cousin there who I believe is a neurosurgeon, and he arranged for surgery by a specialist immediately , which involved patching some skin over the ruptured eardrum, and perhaps some tinkering inside. He was able to conduct the concert the next evening, but now suffers from buzzing noises activated by loud sounds at particular frequencies, with occasional ringing in the afflicted ear. But his balance was not affected, and after he was able to fly home again three weeks later, he had the work checked by a specialist in California who said his surgery was expertly done. This is one for the musical record book, the first conductor since Lully to suffer from a misjudgment with his own baton. (Though I remember Dr. Walter Ducloux once jabbing himself in the forehead during a rehearsal during my student playing days at USC.) Bogidar will be conducting at Mammoth Lakes again this summer, so perhaps you'll have a chance to see him there. For the present he, at least, loves living in Monterey and not having to be concerned about teaching duties anymore. Ilke is a bit less sanguine about their house; like all houses and properties, something is bound not to be quite right.
This week, or I should say during the coming week, after I've recovered from medical examinations (I've already given enough blood to float a Red Cross drive), I'll be sending the discography to Norton for consideration of publication. I don't hold too much hope of their interest in something as ephemeral, constantly shifting and changing as a Toscanini discography, which is a specialized interest in any case, but they have published Toscanini material in the past, and it doesn't hurt to try. If they turn it down, I'll try Lippencott and others that have published biographies, critical studies and other such material about our favorite, fiery Italian conductor.

I'm glad to have been enlightened in your last letter about the kinds of poetry the journals are interested in, and what they are not. At times I think I'm too much of a prose oriented person, or used to thinking of and dealing with matters human in a direct way to the extent that I have problems with the elliptical expressions of those you've identified as "deconstructionists". I've sometimes even thought that (reaching back into the past) Gertrude Stein was too interested in how the words feel in the mouth, and in being clever, so that sometimes there seems little substance or depth of feeling in some of her work. Oh, that sort of 1920s, 1930s Paris chic can have its appeal, in poetry, music, and doubtless in their theatrical productions. Still, I believe that too much playing with the medium itself can sometimes indicate that the creator doesn't really have much to say. Always, the fault may lie with me. At any rate, I wish you the very best fortune, as you send your soul-children out into the larger world. You, at least, have things to say, about life present and past, and about the human condition. Does that make what you write a bit old fashioned? Well, so be it. I instantly think of those composers whom we revere and who were old fashioned in their times, like J.S. Bach and to a degree Brahms. (Though Schoenberg in an article pretty much proved that Johannes Brahms was harmonically more progressive than Wagner.)Writing, of whatever type, that is solidly built and has some human and spiritual values seems to last best, while the fashionable and immediately glittering seems to fade away in the long run.

I've also appreciated your keeping me up on Jasper, and the way that his changed circumstances have modified your relationship in the immediate sense. My memories of him are all fond ones, and even though he chooses not to communicate, and may make what might appear from the outside perspective to be choices that could lead to unhappiness in the long run, my feelings for him remain warm.

Nick never was one for writing personal letters. But after he's moved to New England maybe he'll send me an e-mail letter, or call or something. After I've recovered sufficiently it's not out of the question at all for him and whoever to come for a visit, or to meet in Boston with the same object.

I'd better close now, and have my last solid food before doing without for a day and a half. The beef broth and such that I'll be allowed for tomorrow is not really gustatorially delightful, nor do I look forward to an afternoon spent in ingesting Colight and in the bathroom.

Hoping that you and Tacui are doing and being very well, I remain,

Your buddy,

Oct. 28, 2000

Dear Carroll,

Thanks for giving my address to Ben Abbene. He imparted to me the sad news of Ian Conner's death. Though I don't feel I knew him really closely, the two occasions we spent a good part of an evening together, once at what used to be the retreat house that Frank Sinatra gave to LMU and another at the Fireside Inn, as I recall, I found him to be excellent company, very friendly, likeable and having a droll sense of humor. I'm sure he'll be missed by his colleagues in the CA Department.

Ben also shared with me his experiences at faculty socials at different times, with the common thread of how he came to have extensive verbal intercourse with the several Presidents, brought about by his sitting by himself to isolate his person from those also attending. His discourse about the faculty socials brought back mostly pleasant and sometimes amusing memories - Elsbeth dancing the polka, Fr. Rolphs (or is it 'Rolfs'?) inebriated out of his skull, Nick Curcione actually bringing a stripper to such an event - I could go on. It was good to hear from Ben, and to get a good long letter from him.

Since you've been good enough to send me your poetry, I thought you might find it mildly amusing to read a couple of the yarns that I spin out of an afternoon, when I have to get away from music, academic concerns, tedious day to day chores, and anything that smacks of being productive. Their literary value is probably less than that found in the 19th Century "Penny Dreadfuls", and their significance even less. But writing them provides a recreatory few hours for me, and may provide you with a few minutes of distraction.

About setting your poetry, I want to once again assure you that setting some of it is not something I have back-burnered or put on the shelf. The ongoing responsibilities of teaching, my medical problems (especially the fatiguing anemia, which is gradually improving), and the repetitious daily chores and property maintenance, plus the gratefully received visits from friends and my father + his wife, have retarded my work on several projects. Even the task of extracting parts for my Serenade for 10 Winds has been slowed down by all of the above, though now I'm about 2/3 through with the calligraphic chore and try to do a page an evening. - In Re: my music, some good news has come my way from a former USC Student, now a friend. A group called "Brave new Works" will be performing my Five Contrapuncti for Woodwind Trio at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor on Nov. 7. They also want to perform one of my larger chamber works in February, which one still to be determined. (My friend, Tom Schnauber, has suggested my concert Piece for Chamber ensemble and Homage to Ingolf Dahl, but I'm hoping they will opt to give the premiere performance of the Serenade just mentioned. Of course I'll be delighted to be heard in Michigan, whichever they finally choose.)

A new wrinkle in the world of Berklee's academe. Unlike the ASUP at LMU, unionism in Boston's leading school of jazz and commercial music is more militant. Though my own quarrels with the present, about-to-expire contract are few, the full timers (and perhaps some of the other part timers) feel their compensation is not in line with their years of service, and indeed, sometimes new faculty are brought in at a pay level disproportionately high when compared with those who have been in the trenches a longer time. The dissatisfaction is such that unless the doubling of Union-faculty negotiating meetings yields positive results by Nov. 3, we'll be going on strike. Answering the queries of our unit's representative, I indicated that I'd prefer not to strike, but if the general membership votes to walk off the job I'll not cross the picket lines, nor accept any offer of a full time position designed to move out the more discontented. The last strike was held in 1987, with full support by the students, and the contract dispute was settled in two weeks. I don't know that students feel the same way this time, and since negotiation began well before the end of the Summer Session I don't know that this one, if it comes to pass, will end in such a short time. It would take a long time, and a really hefty salary increase, to make up for two weeks of lost pay, and I don't think a new contract would benefit me all that much, but what's the point of having a Union if one breaks ranks and becomes, essentially, a 'scab'? I guess we could weather the financial lacunae, especially if the offer on our Chula Vista house pays out with the short escrow they want. (Happily there are no encumbering FHA or HUD considerations.) Anyway, maybe the administration will stop being quite so intractable when it becomes apparent that the strike talks are for real. Any down time will ultimately lead to a diminishing of student revenues, which Lee Berk in his Prudential Towers penthouse will not relish.

Carroll, don't be a stranger to my mailbox. I'll welcome being brought up to date with respect to you, and your family.

It's 2:00AM, and time to do my page a day (at minimum) of calligraphic work so that my Serenade will be performable. I never get to bed before 3:00 or 4:00 anyway, except when I'll be teaching the next day, in which case I try to get three or four hours of shut eye.

My last living composition teacher is now in a 24 hour care facility, with his right side paralyzed, nearly unintelligible speech on his bad days, and not even capable of playing "Mary had a little lamb", according to his dear, overworked wife, who tries to bring some small pleasure and motivation to continue living to my dear, old teacher. What each of us fears greatly has befallen him. I resent having to spend even minutes in sleeping, given this kind of thing which could happen to any of us.

Keep well, and keep me informed.

Your buddy,

Dec. 4 , 2000

Dear Carroll,

Thank you so much for your very thoughtful letter, an extraordinary missive which I've reread several times. I had no idea that my humble yarns would provoke that much in the way of interested thinking!

No doubt my recreatory writing of this kind (perhaps my writing of other kinds also) is swarming with faults, and you very delicately and kindly pointed your finger at one of them. Even in a story this short Cora Everett needs a bit of fleshing out in terms of why she is insensitive to the pain of others, feels no remorse, and is such a narcissist. Left brain activity, a certain cleverness, is present in that woman, but no real background is mentioned of a kind that might lead her to become a serial killer. Of course to include much background could disrupt the flow of the story, and I'd have to be careful not to make the mistake of being too simplistic about it even in the confines of this brief tale. (In my opinion, one of the flaws in the book for the ballet UNDERTOW from the 1940s, for which William Schuman provided the music, is the premise that a childhood event = a particular kind of young adult. It just isn't adequate in view of the fact that different people from the same environment don't all become the same sort of folks. In the ballet we see the Transgressor's mother being ill used when he is a child, and this is supposed to make us believe that such events lead to his becoming one person against the world. The music itself is less dated than the "book", but not enough to "save the day" so far as any modern performance is concerned. Freudian interpretation just doesn't have the currency that it once had, and anyway, the idea that the Transgressor must pay for his crimes regardless of why he became what he is is rather too obvious, even for a ballet I think.) Anyway, your letter has caused me to think about this, and at some time when I feel impelled to get away from any other kind of work, maybe I'll reconsider her background and her marriage, for which poor Norman Everett received all the blame. The Ted Bundys of this world have most often been neglected or abused as children, but so was my father, so go figure.

Yes, I imagine Raymond Atwood does have quite a bit of Leroy in him, The nature of his story is such that I don't think I can add much. With all of its circular qualities, structurally like a theme with variations, it verges on being overlong as it is. In my head the main theme is that if we had the chance to do it over again we'd probably make the same or similar mistakes. That idea rests on the premise that by some age (varies from person to person) we've made the decisions and taken the steps that have made us who and what we are, and that, barring some catastrophic or mega-metanoic event, we're likely to continue behaving as we do. Subsidiarly (is there such a word?), is the idea that opposites may attract but do not wear well together in the long run. Two people too much alike in a relationship could result either in dullness, or a kind of perpetual conflict in which each tries to establish primacy in the same territory. But being with one's opposite would be far worse. Imagine me trying to live with a person who only liked rap "music", or you trying to sustain a romantic relationship with a woman whose reading ceased with her required undergraduate assignments, and whose main concern was what kind of image she projects at parties. I think that Erin and Raymond were doomed from the start, though not because of fate or some B.F. Skinnerish factor.

All that said, the game of "what it" can be kind of fun, even if there is no way to confute or refute our imagined alternative life(s). What and who would I be if I had not been seized by music at a very early age? Maybe I would have become a cartoonist, an idea that is not too far fetched given my hobbies. Or perhaps I'd have found a niche in some kind of mechanical engineering since I had and have a fondness for beautiful machinery. It's quite difficult to recapture my mindset before I had decided that music was it for me, especially since music was always such a major part of my world even before I had taken the decision to go in that direction. What if Carroll Kearley had remained on the farm? Perhaps you might have been a bit like some of my own farming relatives, most of who were at least somewhat educated people, and all of whom retained a lively interest in politics, the world around them, and so on. My uncle Thore, who earned a B.S., was a constant experimenter in farming methods and crops grown, and had books about such as Sartre in his library. My Uncle Dale became a conservator of antique farm machinery, keeping the most of his land in the soil bank so that he could devote his life to the absolutely accurate restoration and rehabilitation of the behemoths used as alternatives to horses during the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. (Parenthetically, I used to love climbing around and in those dinosaurs as a boy, during my family's annual summertime visits to North Dakota. Dale had one huge Quonset devoted just to drill presses, lathes, cutting tools, die makers, lacquering equipment, etc., in order to remanufacture missing parts, and to make every detail of function and decoration precisely as it was when brand new. It was very impressive to see him fire up some ten-ton tractor with wheels taller than a man, that left deep iron lug impressions in the soil. Names like 'Rumley Oil Pull', 'The Happy Farmer' and the like were as familiar to him as International Harvester and John Deere remain today. In the Time-Life Encyclopaedia of Collectibles, which came out in the late '70s, the entry on farm implements includes examples from his collection. Oddly, though my brother, Dennis, was doing research for that multi-volumed series, he did not do the piece on my uncle Dale. Dennis was detailed to interview folks who collected cook books, various kinds of historic barbed wire, and the insulators used on power poles. Anyway, the fruits of Dale's labor s ultimately became the Hawk Family Farm Museum, which is on his former farm near Wolford, North Dakota. After he died it was ceded to the state, so long as it was maintained according to the specifications in his will, and so it has remained for the last ca .twenty years.) Mel Davison told me of a grain elevator operator he had met in Montana who spoke quite knowingly of Birgit Nillson and other operatic stars of the era, and loved the broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera. Perhaps you would have become a kind of poet of the mountains and prairies, a different sort of Vachel Lindsay, while remaining more concerned with crops than with philosophy students.

You mentioned both children's imagined playmates, and thinking about what a good friend who committed suicide might have become……I've known only one person who literally committed suicide, although I've know a number who have died from slower forms of self-destruction, a list on which I imagine I will figure. Clyve Acker was well on his way to becoming a fine tubist, and though one could detect a darker interior within him I've no idea of the immediate cause for his self-termination. Yes, I have speculated about the deep despair, the pain he must have imagined would never end, and the feelings of fundamental unworthiness that must have motivated such a drastic action. On the three occasions that I have seriously considered suicide those were the factors that motivated me. But then I thought of those who had depended on me, and succeeded in thinking that my own modest accomplishments must be worth something, even if what I have/had done did not measure up to my aspirations. I wonder if your friend felt similarly, but just didn't imagine that he could ever improve his situation. An uncle, Lawrence , on my mother's side, hanged himself in a barn during a family reunion before I was born. My mother always said that he did it to bring an end to the great pain that he was in from an incurable condition (cancer?). She thought he picked that time out of consideration for those assembled, so that they would not have to return for a funeral. My uncle Frank said he knew of no illness, and thought the timing was entirely inconsiderate. Whatever might be the truth of it, it was very tough on my only remaining uncle, Dean, who was in his early twenties at the time, to encounter the corpse of his brother hanging in the barn. I think it quite probable that at the time someone kills himself he's probably thinking, "Nobody's going to give a damn anyway", if it's not being done for the kinds of reasons for which a Dr. Kavorkian (sp.?) helper would be appropriate. You must have valued your friend, and it is a measure of the esteem in which you held him that you would think about the man he might have continued to become….

On FYI, present-practical fronts, I'm 4/5 through with extraction of parts for my Serenade for 10 Wind Instruments. My Five contrapuncti for woodwind trio were given a second performance, this time by a group calling itself "Brave New Works", at the U. of Mich. in Ann Arbor, a performance by more refined players, but less accurate than the one at Berklee. Another 'new music' ensemble called "Prime Directive" wants to perform my "Homage to Ingolf Dahl", but I still can't even find the score, much less the parts, which will have to be extracted anew, I imagine. Damn the disorganization that results from too many moves.

. My anemia is slowly improving but damn, I have to keep taking pain killers for my wretched back and painful sciatic nerve, and these are contraindicated in the case of anemia. It's a bit like taking Viagra and muscle relaxants at the same time. Oh well. Just a few more wrinkles on the fabric of somewhat problematic medical lives. You know all about back pain anyway, having lived with same for almost the whole of your adult life.

So good to hear from you, Carroll.

March 21, 2001

Dear Carroll,

Just a brief note, sandwiched in between the mundane (laundry), the necessary (visiting the orthopedist) and the somewhat enjoyable (writing a piece for the Beach Cities Symphony Orch.) {the agony of composing makes the pleasure a sort of postponed kind}.

I have not yet finished all of your last book of poetry. I have gotten past the series about Nameless, and about the near-couple among the homeless. I wanted to ask you about these portraits. Are these folks some among those you encounter while walking in the Santa Monica area, perhaps for your health or other reasons, or do you in fact seek them out, purposefully, and thus your visits to that area? You paint them as they are, mostly without pity and "straight up", but with a kind of loving regard as well, a recognition of common humanity.

Some years ago I determined that I could give a bit of money now and then to some one person of this kind, and try to get to know him/her a bit, while being aware of the danger that a person in need can attach himself to you like a barnacle. It's all done on an ad hoc basis, for one thing because I only see him sporadically. He's a burned out Viet Nam veteran, who served as a corpsman and just saw too many bodies of people past being patched up. To me he is "Mr. McDoogle" (that is his correct last name), a man of about 65, who sleeps on subway benches when the MTA police don't kick him out, and who can tell you about the condition at the various shelters about town. I even wrote a song about him - one of two "pops" type numbers I wrote that might fall somewhere near the camp of Mary Chapin Carpenter. Someday I might learn the secret of why they go on living, and whether they think the future might hold some promise for them. I think that maybe it's just a day to day kind of thing, and then one day there just aren't any more to come, but these are the kinds of questions it just wouldn't do to ask directly.

Brief medical update: the MRI, bone scan and ordinary x-rays all reveal a severely herniated disc in my lower spine, something kind of interesting to see, with its extrusions pressing against and squashing the spinal nerve bundle. Surgery is scheduled for mid-May, after which I'm hopeful that I can cease clutching my cane, and stop biting a mouthful of bullets all the time.

I had about an hour long conversation with Jasper. He actually sounded quite happy, perhaps, in part, because his long contested financial entanglements are very near being settled, a ten year battle. He says that A reviles him whenever they are in contact. Maybe when the property and financial affairs are finally laid to rest, and the divorce legally realized, she will finally be able to put it behind her. It would be a real shame if she were to carry around grief and pain, thus the anger, all of her remaining life. Underneath all of that which she has borne and worn for the last ten years or so, is a very tender and lovable person. I think that at least the most of the old Jasper that I knew is back now, and he was profuse with apologies for the long lacuna. Evidently he's been with L. for about five years now, so even though it's a kind of May-November relationship, it's obviously more than just a transitory thing If it makes him happy, then there's little more to be said about that.

A bit of disappointing news. The Prime Directive concert scheduled for May 21 in Ann Arbor, MI, has had to be postponed until some unspecific date during the Fall Semester. Difficulties in putting together the larger forces required for two of the compositions on the program (larger than my HOMAGE TO INGOLF DAHL, for which the "ducks were all in a row") necessitated the postponement. Well, that's all right. It will give me the chance to polish up the score a bit more, things that I managed to overlook while "busting my butt" to meet the previously assumed deadline.

Best regards and warmest feeling to you and Tacui. I must leave off now and put in another load of laundry, and then back to work on the orchestral score for SERENADE NO. 2.

Dec. 22, 2001

Dear Carroll and Tacui,

I hope your holidays are going grandly. No doubt you are being visited by or are visiting at least part of your family, with much of the year's experiences to share.
I'll probably be spending Christmas Day alone, but that's no big deal. Most of the time I'm alone anyway, and getting used to it. My sweetie will be coming to visit for a few days shortly after Christmas, so I have that to look forward to. We'd be together already but for the Medieval divorce laws in Connecticut which require her to stay on site to look after her property interests. It's a nightmare state where property settlements are concerned, with separations often dragging out for 15 mos. or more, responsive to laws obviously designed to keep lawyers in funds for as long as possible. But it's worth waiting for…..

Spinal surgery has helped a bit, but I can still be awakened ca. 3:00 AM by a leg that feels on fire inside while being numb on the surface. This usually happens directly after my long commutes to Berklee, which suggests that bumpy bus rides are not too great for the spine, and neither is having to carry around a briefcase full of papers and such. Only strong painkillers really help. All those physical therapy sessions did very little, I fear.

I've enclosed a tape of the first performance of my Serenade for Ten Wind Instruments, given at the Eastern Sierra Music Festival during the past August. This is not a piece designed to "push back the envelope", but rather is intended to be productive of pleasure of the more gemutlich kind. The enclosed notes will tell all. The performance itself is quite good, but for some flaws in intonation.

Unhappily, the moving of some of my things to my present abode was done in my absence, so that the downstairs bedroom is crammed full of cartons wedged between two bunk beds. That means I can't get at my CDs or tapes, my sound system stuff (This tape was copied on a borrowed boom box), my school materials, your poetry, other music I'd been working on, etc. Since I just can't lift anything weighing more than 10 lbs. I'm thinking of hiring someone to hoist some of them up and out so at least I can get to the bare essentials. But I am getting some composing done, free from the distractions of vexing property maintenance or snow removal, responsible only to myself and my school. It's almost unearthly quiet here, so I cannot complain about the general context of neighbors and such.

I must get to other concerns now, or my grandchildren will be finding I.O.U.s from me under their Christmas tree - not that my gifts will reach them on time anyway, but their arrival should at least feel like a Post Scriptum to Christmas rather than something associated with Valentine's Day.

Keep in touch, Carroll. I miss hearing of your concerns, and of course, your thoughtful comments on life in general.

Your buddy,

Dec. 8, 2002

Dear Carroll,

Today I received and read your letter with great pleasure, though not all of the contents gave me pleasure. Your back pain, the most severe in 25 years you said, did not give me pleasure, nor the injury to your granddaughter's eye, though as news they claim attention. The articles in re: the prostate I will read with great interest, setting aside time for close concentration. I have had a chronic prostatitus for half of forever, and such matters as the helpfulness of zinc, and whether or not saw palmetto is useful and has undesirable side effects do concern me greatly….

I am glad to be numbered among your good friends. I opine that I am, not only because of the tenor of our letters and phone conversations, but also because you have described most of your good friends as eccentric, and I'm certain that I must fill that bill.
A good "handy man" is an undisguised blessing, and children willing to pitch in and help must also be in that category. It seems that you have both, and thus are twice blessed in this general area.

News from my end must include my lady friend's divorce and property settlement finally being complete. As her attorney warned her, in Connecticut the average length of time from beginning to completion is 15 months, and she was off by only one month (additional) in this case. I may have mentioned that we would be buying a Victorian period house in the far north of New Hampshire, and she at least, has now moved there. With a few minor things to be taken care of, the house is otherwise in great shape, with most everything still original and authentic from the time of its building, in 1891. Some things, like the electrical wiring and other modern amenities have been added, of course. It has five bedrooms, which are certainly necessary to us, since Jackie has more than 300 cartons of books, to which must be added my books, records and CDs. Like all houses from the period, the living type rooms are smaller than California ranch-style house averages, but dining room, living room and "sound room" taken together with the staircase/entry room and so on do add up to a bit of space. The kitchen is certainly ample enough in size, as is the immense attic. The surroundings are very beautiful, summer or winter, though one must be prepared for the effects of higher elevation and being nestled in a mountain valley (upper Connecticut River) during colder seasons.

I do not know whether I have told you much of anything about Jackie. She was my high school sweetheart, and certainly the most intelligent female in Barstow High School. Later after we had parted company, she became an archaeologist, doing field work and also publishing a professional journal called "American Archeology"…She and I were always well suited to each other, the extent to which I did not realize entirely when young or we would never have parted company. Geography (she went to Wellesley while I went to USC), and the youthful desire to explore other potential relationships were at heart, or I should say at bottom of why I broke things off. In the back of my mind was always that we would be together again one day, but then she got married very young, a mistake as it turns out, but for her three super-intelligent children. At any rate, being together again is like coming full circle in a good way…..

In terms of writing, I almost finished my very conservative Serenade No. 2 for orchestra for Barry Brisk's Beach Cities Symphony Orchestra when I got sort of hung up on the idea of writing a piece more or less in the style of Richard Strauss. His very conservative audience might appreciate such a piece even more, thought I, plus one always wants to use that lyrical, heroic and sometimes sentimental post-Romantic vocabulary even if it is quite out of step with our own times. (You probably remember that all through his life, even during and shortly after World War II, he himself was rather an anachronism, still composing essentially in a vein developed before WWI. Even his final works could have been composed ca. 1898.) It's loads of fun writing this piece, tentatively entitled "A Straussian Fantasy", even though some of the technical requirements have to be scaled to this orchestra, including its instrumentation. Some of Richard's music requires enormous forces - 130 musicians for his Alpinesymphonie and perhaps even more for Josephlegende - and that's just not supportable for the budget of this orchestra. Anyway, that's what is obsessing me at the moment. No, I have not forgotten the poems of yours that attracted me and seem suitable for vocal setting. But Barry's offer of immediate performance of an orchestral work has caused me to set aside all other projects for the moment. How I look forward to being retired, perhaps after one more year, so that I can compose all the pieces I'm just itching to get at.

I'm happy to know that you are satisfying your urges in several areas. Practicing piano, for instance, offers its own rewards, and it hardly matters that you and I will never be concert-level pianists. And Bach has a way of restoring inner order and balance. Did you know that he also wrote music for the instruction and playing of/by such as his son Carl P.E., as well as for his wife Anna Magdelena (his second wife, actually)? Of his contemporary, Telemannn, it's sometimes said that he wrote haystacks of music, and one must search carefully to find the golden straws amidst all the rest. With old Johann Sebastian little searching is necessary , since almost all that he touched turned to gold, whether simple, complicated, written for occasions or for his own pleasure. From our perspective it seems odd that J.S. Bach was the third choice when he was hired to be cantor/kapellmeister at St Thomas in Leipzig, the more favored being Telemann and Kunau. At the time Bach was considered too intellectual and a bit old-fashioned, I suppose. To us he represent the quintessence and culmination of the north German Baroque style-practice. His four composing sons had already moved away from the more weighty contrapuntal fabrics of the elder Bach, and were participant in the lighter style the French called "galante'. The talent is there in the music by such as C.P.E. Bach, etc., and of course the youngest among them, Johann Christian Bach, who fared quite well in England. But the depth in the music of their father is not to be found in their works, as appealing and charming as some of them are.

Well, I must cease bending your eye in the interest of tomorrow's classes. I wish you and your dear wife the merriest of holiday seasons, and of course will send a card your way, doubtless late as usual.

Yours, etc.,

Leroy