Powell Symphony Hall
On Tuesday last, I heard former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice speak at Powell Symphony Hall. She came to town as part of the Saint Louis Speaker Series. This series has been around for many years, but I had never attended any of their events until this week. I went as Joanie’s guest, who is a regular patron of this series. Also in our party were two of Joanie’s nurse friends, Vicky and Becky. Before Dr. Rice’s talk, we had dinner at Dooley’s Beef N Brew House. This restaurant is located across Grand from Powell.
Powell is a beautiful hall, home of the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra and whose ornate entrance hall is pictured above. I’ve only been to Powell a few times, but once I was again visiting at Joanie’s behest and at intermission, she pointed out Stan ‘the man’ Musial to me. I would have never noticed Musial, unless she had pointed him out. I’ve long contended that Joanie knows everyone who lives in Saint Louis. She always demurs at this claim, so let me revise it to that she knows everybody worth knowing in Saint Louis and I am pleased to know her and be known by her.
Rice spoke for an hour and followed that up by taking questions for half-an-hour. I was way up in the cheap seat, the nose bleed section, but a big screen TV projection of the speaker helped to overcome the separation. Her talk covered three main themes, her personal history, and her history in the Whitehouse and finally, her reading of the current national and international situations. She wandered back and forth among these subjects and at times her lecture seemed disjointed, as she jumped in both time and space from one topic to another. I’ll spare you my recounting of the more political aspects of her talk. I doubt that I could do her justice. Her personal anecdotes were the most enjoyable aspect of her talk anyway.
She described her grandfather as a “Utah sharecropper”. She explained that his Alabama County, spelled Etowah, is pronounced Utah. Being a sharecropper, but wanting to better himself, he saved his money for college. He attended school, but after one year, his money had run out. Looking around, he noticed that some of the other students were getting money to go to school, scholarships. He asked the dean about these scholarships and was told that there was one left for any student who wanted to become a Presbyterian minister. To which he answered, “I always wanted to be a Presbyterian.” The Rice family is Presbyterian to this day.
Rice went to the University of Denver herself. Initially, she wanted to be a pianist, but soon discovered that she was way out classed by the more gifted students. She next tried Literature, but found it horribly dull. Next she tried local government and civil affairs. She interviewed the Denver city water manager, whom she described as the most boring man who I have ever met. A junior now and still floundering, she received a letter from her parents stating that it may be her life, but it was their money too. Finally, she took an international relations course taught by Josef Korbel, father to the first woman Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright. He always referred to Rice as his star pupil.
In the weeks and months after 9/11, the White House was a chaotic mess. Every day brought new threats, both real and imagined. The unending tension began to wear on everyone. Then the anthrax scare hit the White House, while Rice was in China with President Bush. An ashen gray Dick Cheney appeared via telecom . A suspicious powder had already been forwarded to the CDC for analysis, but there would be no word for a day. Someone thought of using the mice that infest the Whitehouse as the proverbial canary in the coal mine. If the mice remained feet down, then everything was still alright, but if mice were found feet up that meant trouble. Later that night, Rice delivered the news during the middle of a state banquet, “Mr. President, the mice are feet down.” This was promptly translated for the Chinese Premier, who was seated next to Bush.
I didn’t have a question for her that night. So, I didn’t bother to fill out my card. The next day, a co-worker suggested a great one, “Dr. Rice, what progress have you made on your life’s greatest ambition? Are you any closer to becoming the next baseball commissioner?”
USA Bicycling Forever Stamps
We received a missive from Carl this week. His packages, you can’t really call them letters, they are so much more than that, are always a joy to receive. Carl’s writings are always humorous and frequently eclectic too. The theme of this communication was a less than desirable intersection between bicycling and baseball, the nexus of sports scandals. I think Carl’s impetus was Lance Armstrong’s latest and hopefully, but not likely, final debacle.
Armstrong has been stripped of all seven of his Tour de France yellow jerseys, for doping. Although he was the leader in this type of cheating and certainly the most successful perpetrator of it, he certainly was not the exception. After stripping Armstrong, the Tour elected not to award any of the other participants his former victories. Cheating and doping was deemed just that epidemic.
Carl then offered some sympathy. He commiserated about his similar hero-worship for Pete Rose, the Cincinnati baseball impresario. Rose ran afoul of MLB’s gambling rules and was analogously disgraced. I only take one itsy-bitsy, little exception to what Carl wrote. Carl inferred that I was only a fair weather Cardinal fan, rather could it be that he is that rare bird, a foul weather fan?
Carl’s letter crossed with our real life results. Anne crashed her bike on Saturday. We spent the afternoon in the ER and she spent the rest of the weekend on the couch. She has managed to haul herself into work every day. Like a weeble, she may wobble, but she doesn’t fall down. She saw a hand specialist on Tuesday, who confirmed that her finger was broken. He plans on pinning her pinky this afternoon. This is surgery, and I will be driving. She saw the knee guy Wednesday. There was nothing broken there, but there is physical training in her future now. Regarding the stamps, that’s me in front and Anne in back, hauling all the baggage.
I hope that you enjoyed last night’s long night, the unofficial longest night of the year. My question to my hipsters readers is, when you are actually up last night at 3 AM, did you travel back in time an hour? If so, was I snoring both times?
Direct TV Blimp
Last night’s Cardinal game was horrible. The Cards played horribly and it was horrible for a Red Bird fan to watch. At the end of the first four games, the Cardinals were up 3-1 over the Giants. In each of the three subsequent games the Cardinal bats went eerily silent. Combine this with rather lackluster starting pitching and the Cards inevitably quickly fell far behind the Giants in each game. Last night’s game was the worse, ending with a final score of 9-0. The last out was fittingly recorded in a pouring rain. The sky was crying its eyes out. To add insult to injury, late in the game, the San Francisco pitcher chose to bean Matt Holliday in retribution for his too aggressive slide into second, earlier in this series, classy Giants, classy.
Simultaneous with last night’s ball game was the third and final presidential debate. As the Cards started their inexorable slide down to defeat, I started flipping over to the debate. At first I would only switch during a baseball commercial break, or when President Obama was speaking. Eventually though, I was even tuning in to hear Romney speak. Yup, it was that bad last night. 😉
I shouldn’t be so glum though, because the Cardinals have done so much better than expected. They had a grand ride this year. They were good, but they were also lucky. I’ve always said that I rather be lucky than good, and the Cards showed everyone just how good and lucky they are, or were. Last night it was clear that their luck had totally played out. Repeating in consecutive years has become almost unheard of in these modern times. For the Red Birds to have gotten as far as they did is a statement in and of itself. It is just that on Sunday afternoon, I saw the Direct TV blimp circling downtown Saint Louis, just like it would have tomorrow, on the first day of the World Series.
Windows and Reflections
It is hard to be number one. I say this in all honesty and as a cautionary tale to those baseball teams that aspire to snatch the World Championship from the Saint Louis Cardinals. It is hard. You may be good enough to take the title, but will you be good enough to hold on to it? I’m just saying that the traditional Thai curse of the gift of a white elephant is totally relevant and not to be taken lightly.
In last Friday’s game, the Cards failed to clinch the National League Pennant. Now they have to play next to the bay today. If they had won on Friday, things would have been a whole lot simpler today. Between Friday and this Sunday morning, my entire extended family has become unglued. My once trash talking brothers have again started up their terrible chatter. I again had to endure a phone conversation with them that boiled down to, “The Cardinals are going down!”, “Yeah!!”, “Oh, yeah!!!” I find it hard to respond to such well formulated arguments. Meanwhile, my sister-in-law Jane is chomping on the Word Series bit with her Detroit Tigers. Jane calm down. Whether the Red Birds win or lose, whether it takes six games or seven, none of this will bring the World Series sooner even one day. For the record, if the Cardinals should just happen to falter, and not win the pennant then I will switch my allegiance to the Giants, but that’s just silly speech.
OK, I have now successfully pissed off both my family and my in-laws and everyone I know in Saint Louis. But wait, there is more. In this dilemma, I thought about appealing to a higher authority, not the baseball commissioner or even the owners, but Reverend Carl of the Church of Baseball. Rev. Carl has always been most ecumenical when it came to baseball. In any playoff series, he has always rooted for the underdog and the extension of that series to its fulfillment.
His recent snail mail missive praised the Cardinals, with the exception of his signoff, “It’s not fair.” I’ll tell you what’s not fair Carl, you be stuck with the Mariners. Move to Saint Louis. See the light. Live within easy driving distance of dozens of ball teams. You know you want to. 👿
Maybe the problem is that the Cards are becoming too much like the Yankees. Not like this year, but over the long haul. The Yankees have far and a way the most championships and everyone hates them for it, but the Cards are second. The Yankees also have the most pennants, but the Cardinals, Giants and the Dodgers are all tied up for number two. This year will edge one team into overall pennant second place.
As I’ve said, it’s hard being number one. The Red Birds are still up to the challenge. Besides today they have a special reason to clinch the pennant. Today is Jay’s birthday. Sorry about trying to lure your husband to greener pastures. Can’t we all just get along? I’m sure a Cardinal pennant would make a lovely birthday present. Happy Birthday, Jay!
GO CARDS!!