Concert Nights at Home

When I was about eleven, my mother worked on Thursday evenings, and my dad and I had to fend for ourselves (which in those days meant that we ate the dinner mom had prepared before she left!).

After the dishes were done, dad and I would have a concert. We had a stereo - a novelty at the time - and could play either the old 78rpm records or the newer 33rpm ones (45s, too). My father had a largish collection of 78s with everything from Bach's Inventios to Spike Jones's craziness




Ah, we only had the sound when I was a kid. Spike Jones on video is a find, complete with zany sounds, lots of slapstick, even cross-dressers.

Of course at the age of eleven, I loved the Spike Jones best and could listen to it over and over, perhaps as only an eleven-year-old can. The Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin (my highbrow favourite at the time), Caruso, and Mario Lanza stuck as well, though. Since then, I have had a love of music, classical and otherwise, that I always attribute to my father.

When I was invited to an in-home concert in September, it brought back all those memories. And the concert didn't disappoint - I previously wrote a blog entry about the artist Charlie A'Court.

The idea of concerts in private homes is brilliant. For many smaller communities, it means seeing artists one would otherwise never even know about. The Home Routes method involves one host signing on for six concerts, spaced out over a few months. The tickets are very, very reasonable, and the in-home atmosphere is good, probably because it's all friends and friends of friends.

A quick Google search indicates that this is a popular method for promoting artists, and many organize such concerts for a profit.

Home Routes "is a not-for-profit organization made up of folks just like you and is dedicated to the love of music, to making music more accessible to a greater number of people and to supporting the artists that make the music."

I don't know this for sure, but believe the not-for-profit way surely has a much more down-to-earth and satisfying dynamic than a for-profit endeavour.

Then again, maybe I'm just spoiled from all the "Dad and Me" concerts that were all about love of music and sharing.

My Fair Doolittle

With his wonderful character Alfred Doolittle, George Bernard Shaw took a humourous poke at strict, judgemental charities in his play Pygmalion.

The complaint against the charities of the day was that they would help only those who were deserving. Being deserving meant that recipients of aid would accept the middle-class ethics of the, usually, Christian societies founded to help them.

The Fabians, instead, worked for gradual reform towards universality in the distribution of resources, regardless of the religion, morality, and work ethic of the recipient.

Alfred Doolittle will take a handout if one is coming his way, will avoid work if at all possible, and drinks rather a lot. Most important of all, he is quite happy with his life and sees no reason to change his ways.

Alfred Doolittle does not wish to become middle class.

Doolittle's daughter Liza, has begun phonetics lessons with Professor Henry Higgins and is staying at his residence. Doolittle appears, demanding his rights as a father, as he believes something is "going on" between the two. Really, he wants a little something for himself.

His explanation to Higgins of his position is brilliant. He is "one of the undeserving poor" and means to stay that way, but he has problems:

...up agen middle class morality all the time. If there'sanything going, and I put in for a bit of it, it's always the samestory: "You're undeserving; so you can't have it." But my needs is as great as the most deserving widow's that ever got money out of six different charities in one week for the death of the same husband. I don't need less than a deserving man: I need more. I don't eat less hearty than him; and I drink a lot more. I want a bit of amusement, cause I'm a thinking man. I want cheerfulness and a song and a band when I feel low. Well, they charge me just the same for everything asthey charge the deserving. What is middle class morality? Just an excuse for never giving me anything.

Higgins offers ten pounds, but Doolittle will take only five because the larger sum "is a lot of money: it makes a man feel prudent like; and then goodbye to happiness."

Poor Doolittle; unbeknownst to him, Higgins sets him up to be the equivalent of a modern day motivational speaker. Doolittle becomes middle class, modestly famous, lecturing for the Wannafeller Moral Reform World League for 3000 pounds a year and must live by middle class values.

The money did indeed make him prudent like, and he's not so happy about it. Higgins's mother asks what her son has done to Doolittle. He replies: "Done to me! Ruined me. Destroyed my happiness. Tied me up and delivered me into the hands of middle class morality."

Although humourous, Doolittle's position reflects the truth of the working poor, at least those who do not wish to reform. He hasn't the nerve to give up the money, no matter how it restricts him because it would mean the workhouse:

They've got you every way you turn: it's a choice between the Skilly of the workhouse and the Char Bydis of the middle class; and I haven't the nerve for the workhouse. Intimidated: that's what I am. Broke. Bought up.

Doolittle is a delightful character and demonstrates a most serious message, despite his humour.

Probably the most famous rendition of Shaw's 1912 play is the 1964 movie My Fair Lady, starring Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harison, and the late Stanley Holloway as Alfred Doolittle. There was also a 1938 movie version called Pygmalion.

Although a musical and more lighthearted than the play, My Fair Lady still delivers the message. Holloway's Doolittle has humour, grace, dignity, and eloquence.

This scene from My Fair Lady shows Doolittle's attitudes towards work, drink, marriage, and helping one's neighbour.





I was reminded of Doolittle while reading a blog post (on ARTS and ARCHITECTURE, mainly) about the Fabian society and the stained glass window designed by GBS to commemorate it.

It's Winter at North 54

It's the same every year. After the first significant and lasting snowfall, I feel that it is an aberration and will go away soon. How could it possibly be winter? All will melt; the roads will be clear; no shovelling required.

But, alas, not so.

Winter is here.

These winter photos were taken at Fort George Park yesterday.

The blue of the sky, the reflective snow, and the late afternoon light make for wonderful effects.

The low-angled sunlight, shining through the windows of the museum, right.

Time to go home for some hot cocoa.