04/10/2015

This past Tuesday, April 7, was the 100th anniversary of the birth of Billie Holiday. In 1939 Lady Day recorded her epochal version of Abel Meeropol's Strange Fruit. Considered too controversial a topic by her producers at Columbia Records, Holiday ended up recording the song for the smaller Commodore label and it turned into a best seller despite a total lack of radio support. It became one of Holiday's signature songs and a staple of her repertoire for the remaining twenty years of her life.   Seventy-six years later there's strange fruit demanding our attention again, but this time it's not hanging from southern trees. It can be found lying on the streets of cities all across this country. Variations of the scenario have been repeated again and again from Oakland (Oscar Grant), to Staten Island (Eric Garner), to Ferguson, MO (Michael Brown), to Cleveland (Tamir Rice), to Sanford, FL (Trayvon Martin). And now, North Charleston, South Carolina.
04/06/2015

Ah Gentle Reader(s), tis Easter time again. The blooms is bloomin and the trees are leafin and the sparrows are nesting once again beneath the eaves of the Inky Aerie. And, in keeping with seasonal tradition, Your Humble Narrator looks forward to sitting down in front of le Boîte Idiot this evening for the annual communion with The Ten Commandments (see my post of May 2, 2014). This is my personal observation of Holy Week—somewhat less strenuous than crawling on hands and knees to El Santuario de Chimayo, but then YHN is not particularly inclined in the direction of any organized religious observance. Or, for that matter, disorganized religious observance either. I watch The Ten Commandments at Easter time and It’s A Wonderful Life at Christmas time (see 1/1/15) and spend the rest of the year pondering the profound spiritual implications of both. Therefore, I feel as though I’ve got my bases covered (especially as Easter Sunday is Opening Day for the 2015 baseball season—how much spirituality can one person handle in a single day??).