Letters from Quotidia Hologram 6

Welcome to Letters from Quotidia, Hologram 6. Which of the following three, is the most significant event to happen on this day? One, the tower of Antonia falls to Roman forces in AD 70. Two, the tsunami of 1303 damages the Lighthouse at Alexandria and drives ships miles inland. Three, the hit single, Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny Weenie, Yellow Polka-dot Bikini reaches number one on the Billboard charts in 1960.

Perhaps they are of equal insignificance to you, and you will put forward another event from August the 8th of whatever year that speaks to you more consequentially. Dates do mean something to each of us: birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries, that are fixed, and other occasions that are moveable, such as Easter. What did we do before we had clocks and calendars to precisely delineate events of importance?

It would have been more fluid, I surmise. Rites of passage from one stage of life to another would have been determined in part by physical changes and characteristics. Hunter-gatherers would have noted changes in the seasons, heavenly bodies, and, also, evidence from flora and fauna. We would have been much more attuned to the rhythms of the living world and responded to a variety of stimuli in order to move safely through our environment and survive.

I utter a silent prayer of thanksgiving to my distant forbears that they had such skills that I do not come within coo-ee of possessing, even if I were to undergo survivalist training- which, of course, I have no intention of doing! When filling in feedback for one organisation or another, they often ask for you to write comments in a handy text box, giving detailed reasons for the opinion you have proffered after you have carefully clicked on a button or continuum ranging from extremely unlikely to extremely likely or something similar. I just write, “gut”, reserving lengthier prose responses to occasions such as this.

We all respond viscerally as well as cerebrally. We know from experience those times when that tingling warning sense induces us to avoid something perilous; that ancestral response that keeps us safe without our having to think about it. Yes, when you go with your gut, you often make the right choice. As Bob Dylan clearly has done, he said, When you feel in your gut what you are and then dynamically pursue it – don’t back down and don’t give up – then you’re going to mystify a lot of folks. And didn’t he do that big-time!

Or, if you like a dash of cynicism with your wisdom, multi-award-winning filmmaker Billy Wilder has this advice, Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own instead of someone else’s. I had a fuzzy image in my head of an old reprobate when I wrote the first song of this post, and it was a case of following my gut because I didn’t plan this narrative but just started to write and it came out pretty much as it is, apart from the date which I changed when it dawned on me who, in fact, I was writing about. I call it On With the Show. And yeah, it is about a showman, for sure. [insert song]

Chores. Which one of us has not cursed their ubiquity. I still remember the shock when my father introduced this burden into my hitherto carefree boy’s paradise: first, help your sisters do the dishes, after all, you eat the meals your mother prepares! Then ,empty the mower clippings onto the compost heap. Which, inevitably, led to take the mower out and make sure the lawns are tidy. The burgeoning list of required cleaning jobs, household maintenance and essential repairs ate up more and more time and, of course, accelerated when I entered married life as husband and father.

But, gradually, I learned to make a shining virtue out of dire necessity by quoting a Catholic saint who said, of any difficulty faced, this is the path to heaven, and I even found a quiet pride in doing the various tasks well and mastering new skills as I went along. Working together with my wife on shared labours over the years: packing up to move house yet again, sanding floors, painting rooms and staining the outdoor deck, setting up Christmas lights and decorations, all became occasions that bonded us much closer together as the decades passed.

I also remember, just weeks before he died, my father dragging a bag of fertiliser across the lawn, to dress tomato plants I had brought to his garden to plant. Even though he was ailing and weakening, he would not forgo this yearly ritual, this chore. Maxine Kumin has a wonderful poem, Chores, in which she watches and helps her husband as he grumbles, I hope in the afterlife there’s none of this stuff /…no more repairs to the paddock gate the horses / burst through…horses he’s fond of saying, make divorces. / Fifty years married he’s safely facetious.

And, after a litany of fractious chores and a drink on the terrace, he says / let’s walk up to the field and watch the sunset, / and off we go, a couple of aging fools. People of the vintage and longevity in marriage of my wife and I will smile and maybe shed a tear reading this. But we’ll laugh out loud, for sure, at the concluding lines of the poem, I hope he says, on the other side there’s a lot / less work, but just in case I’m bringing tools. Which led me to write the song, Chores, which follows. [insert song]

The only thing that bothers me about that last song is the probability of my being blackballed in eternity if political correctness rules as much up above as seems to be the case down here. Will I join the legions of the cancelled, I wonder? What was it Groucho Marx said about refusing to join any club that would have him?

On With the Show (words and music Quentin Bega)

Int: C Am Em Am7 F G C / Ver:  Am Em Dm G C G C-4 /  Ch: F Bb Fdim G7 C Am Em Am7 F G C

Born on the fourteenth of June, Oh Baby, I got a head start in life

Whenever I get downhearted and weary I think of what I have got

Good looks and charm and money in my pocket what more can any expect

When I compare the advantages I have to the miseries that are your lot

Is it good luck or is it good management, wouldn’t you all like to know

I have no time to worry about trifles, as they say, on with the show

Once saw a guy laying by the roadside his pockets stuffed hard with gold

He should not be burdened with such a load, so I took it and hurried to go

Once saw a gal laying by the roadside she looked so sad and alone

I lay down beside her and offered her my company whether she would have me or no

Is it good luck or is it good management, wouldn’t you all like to know

I have no time to worry about trifles, as they say, on with the show

Fronted the court accused of these grave crimes, fingers were pointed at me

I wore a smile, an inscrutable grin, I wore a suit and a tie

They called a witness, they called another, they had me square in their sights

But I was able to confound my enemies, destroying their case with a lie

Is it good luck or is it good management, wouldn’t you all like to know

I have no time to worry about trifles, as they say, on with the show

The sun and the rain fall on sinner and saint, this much I know from my life

Eighty fine springs and eighty fine summers, eighty fine autumns and all

Eighty cold winters each one a little colder, eighty cold winters have passed

In the end I stare at the abyss, don’t care if I rise or fall

Is it good luck or is it good management, wouldn’t you all like to know

I have no time to worry about trifles, as they say, on with the show

Is it good luck or is it good management, wouldn’t you all like to know

I have no time to worry about trifles, as they say, on with the show

Can you point me the way to the show? Is there anything left of the show?

                                                                                             …Oh Baby, where did it go?

Chores (words and music Quentin Bega)

Intro: C2 Am F2 G13 Verse: C Em F G C Em Am F Dm G

Well, here we are at the Pearly Gates, I hope we both get in

I’m sick I’m sore I’m tired, old girl, I know you are as well

They say no work or pain is here in heaven’s broad expanse

Cause if there is this may just be another face of Hell

These gates don’t look in great repair, is that rust I see

For someplace that is perfect there is much to be desired

So, while we wait for Pete to come, I’ll just go back to fetch

My trusty toolbox from the shed in case it is required

Now while I am gone don’t slip on in, please wait out here for me

I’m sure if I am by your side they’ll let me in to stay

I know I’ve done some dumb things in my life- far more than you

But if you’ll vouch for me, I’m sure they won’t cast me away

Now I’m back you say there has been no one at the gate

To check that people waiting have the right to enter here

I guess it’s just like down on earth, the common people wait

To get their papers checked to see if they are in the clear

The meadows over yonder look like they have gone to seed

Perhaps the people in here didn’t work too much before

At least not at the things that keep the whole show ticking over

We might be in here with a chance as we’ve those skills for sure

We might be in here with a chance as we’ve those skills for sure

We might be in here with a chance as we’ve those skills for sure

Credits: All written text, song lyrics and music (including background music) written and composed by Quentin Bega unless otherwise specified in the credits section after individual posts. Illustrative excerpts from other texts identified clearly within each podcast. I donate to and use Wikipedia frequently as one of the saner sources of information on the web.

Technical Stuff: Microphone-songs Shure SM58; (for the podcast spoken content) Audio Technica AT 2020 front-facing with pop filter); Apogee 76K also used for songs and spoken text. For recording and mixing down: 64-bit N-Track Studio 10 Extended used; Rubix 22 also used for mixing of microphone(s) and instruments. I use the Band in a Box/RealBand 2023 combo for music composition.