Mondays with Mike: Stuff

Hope you had a great holiday—we sure did. I made turkey, stuffing, mashed taters, and brussels sprouts (with pancetta) for me and Beth.  And then I had to figure out what to do with all the leftovers. Small turkeys were in short supply so I ended up with a big one. But thankfully, some neighbors agreed to help us out and take some of it. We delivered it during a bundled up and blanketed, masked, distanced gathering of our neighborhood friends at our little park. We opened festivities with a bubbly toast to our friend who recently finished a course of chemotherapy, and then a group toast to one another. It was about as thankful a Thanksgiving.

The one, the only, Randy Newman.

Other than that, I pretty much have nothing, but I have come across some interesting reads.

Here’s one that’s in the LA Review of Books (no, it’s not a book review) about one of my favorite artists on the occasion of his birthday: Randy Newman. Titled Adrift in Cosmic Quarantine: Randy Newman Turns 77, it’s a very well researched and written piece—there’s a ton of stuff I never knew. I mean I knew he wrote things like “Mama Told Me Not to Come,” made famous in 1970 by Three Dog Night. I didn’t get started with Randy Newman until Sail Away and have most of everything he’s done since. But he was at it for years before that. From the article:

His first charting record came via Vic Dana, who sang “I Wanna Be There” in 1961, the singer complaining bitterly about not getting invited to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. Then the Fleetwoods picked up “They Tell Me It’s Summer,” with its command of pop’s evanescence, and soon top-shelf singers were grabbing on to Newman’s sturdy material: Erma Franklin, with “Love Is Blind” (1963); the Walker Brothers, with “I Don’t Want to Hear It Anymore”(1964); Jackie DeShannon, with “She Don’t Understand Him Like I Do” (1964). Some songs, like “Nobody Needs Your Love More Than I Do” (1965), featured a sure pop strut that elevated Gene Pitney’s reedy, pinched delivery. Newman’s material crossed deftly from pop into soul, with “Big Brother” by The Persuasions (1965), “Love Is Blind” by Lou Rawls (1964), “Friday Night” by the O’Jays (1966), and especially Jerry Butler’s “I Don’t Want to Hear Anymore”(1964). He even placed a song with his guru, Fats Domino, who sang “Honest Papas Love Their Mamas Better” in 1968.

Anyway, great article, with lots of pop music history—give it a read.

And this isn’t a read but it’s eye-opening. (Hat tip to our friend Kyle for sharing it.) It’s a Centers for Disease Control map and ranking of states by the number of gun deaths per 100,000. I’ll submit without comment.

Firearm Mortality by State

Our health care friends (a doc and physician assistant) are better after COVID bouts. Better enough to make it through workdays, but by their accounts, just barely. The devilish fatigue that is often leftover makes it hard to get through each day.

And this doesn’t help. It’s an account by an ICU nurse that speaks for itself. Folks, if you hate liberals, or you hate government guidance, don’t hate your fellow Americans who are literally being driven into exhaustion and some out of the profession—health care workers.

To end on a happier note, Beth surprised me with a gift this past weekend: Richard Ford’s latest collection of short stories. It’s titled Sorry for Your Trouble. I didn’t even know he had a new collection out. So now I have a set of little gems to look forward to, some based in New Orleans.

And I’m already dreaming of our next trip to New Orleans, whenever it’s safe.