My father sends me this over the transom and it pleases in a strange, twingey way…
“At first, in dim light, I thought is was a Navy unit band, like the one I played in. These kids are pretty good.
Okay, the solo work was mostly stilted, and I’d have turned the drummer loose for more rim shots, but the section work was very good. Give them to me for a month and they’ll match the original!! This stuff was like mother’s milk to me, but not to these kids. They have done a fantastic job on it. I loved the trumpet gal’s mouse!!
Trivia: Glen Miller made the soloists play the exact same solo each engagement. Oh well. Matched the recordings…..”
(The link is from a Japanese movie, Swing Girls.)
I suspect I inherited a bit of my father’s musical appreciation – I have a deep love of that time in history and the music thereof. Any Miller gets me “in the mood”. I love the uniforms, the dresses, the planes and the movies. And I have always harbored that feeling…I knew this, then, intimately.
I’d been watching Normandy: The Great Crusade much of the morning, thrust into those hellish days and helplessly linking them to our lives today. Such privation, risk, and sense of duty and a willingness to give a name to the enemy – even derogatory names – and a media that was honest enough to present it…
We will never see its like again, I think.
I worry a great deal about what might be. Easy to do so when the house is empty and quiet as it is today. I have no answers, no predictions, nothing I can point to and say, “There. There is your proof. Now, go and get ready.” But it is a feeling – as if Chamberlain is again muttering, “I’ve got it!” and we are all blindly cheering with a sense of safety and comfort. Meanwhile, somewhere else the Declaration of Independence is being trundled off to storage with, “…the Führer replied, ‘Oh, don’t take it so seriously. That piece of paper is of no further significance whatever.’ ”
Meanwhile, a stage is being designed and set upon which to host a final play. And we shall all be made actors, willingly or no, based simply upon our Facebook preferences and friends. After all, they can shut down an entire factory for wont of a slip of paper. You think it isn’t that simple to compile evidence enough to place you behind bars?
The Holocaust was ignored by thousands within eyesight and earshot. You (and I) would slip beneath those waves with hardly a ripple. And perhaps that is my awful, selfish confession. I do not wish to go gentle into that good night.