Books and Covers...

“There is no such thing as an ordinary person…”

-  David Brooks, How to Know a Person

 

As was her custom, she walked into the room early. This morning, she paused and stared into space for a moment. What happened next was anything but usual.

 

"That's Dvořák, isn't it? She said.

 

It took me a moment to gather myself.

 

“Yes, it is. How did you know?”

 

"I play the piano and love classical music," she said as casually as tossing off her jacket and heading for her seat.

 

I am in the habit of playing music before class begins. It sets a tone for students when they enter the room…a way to clear their minds. At least, it does so for me.

 

In the semester at a local junior college, I ask my students what music they listen to or what they might like to hear before class. It is one way to show respect for their musical tastes and provides me with a little insight into the culture of the young. 

 

There is little doubt that it has broadened my musical horizons. I've been exposed to Vietnamese rock and roll, Uzbekistan rap, Brazilian Indie, and my favorite, Hispanic pop. Their flavor of the day is a Puerto Rican singer/rapper named Bad Bunny. I don't understand the lyrics, but musical rhythms are universal in their appeal, and I enjoy them. 

 

There is also good science regarding the way music affects our minds. It can elicit emotional responses, regulate mood, reduce stress, and bond us socially and culturally, not to mention the pleasure it can bring. Think for a moment about music you have listened to that made you revisit your youth, making you want to jump up and dance (you know it's true - but I digress).

 

My musical interests are broad, so when students do not recommend something they are interested in, I play what I feel like. It might be country/western, South African protest, Indie, or, in the case of this particular morning, Dvořák because I find him energetic, a little whimsical, and a good mental class prepper for me.

 

Back to my coed…

Cassandra (not her real name) is a diminutive and quiet Hispanic student with long raven hair, piercing brown eyes, and a stature just a little north of five feet in height (1.5m). At the beginning of the semester, I thought she was not paying attention, as she mostly glanced down at her desk during lectures. That, as it turns out, was as wrong as my surprise at her knowledge of classical music. Her assignments were always on time, and she got 'A's on all her exams.

 

It gets better…

My classes last two and a half hours, more than any rational person could attend to the density of anatomy and physiology (or any topic for that matter). I give ten-minute breaks every forty-five minutes or so. Students usually leave the classroom for personal metabolic moments, but some stay and hang out. During that time, I get the chance to chat a little more informally with them.

 

One day, Cassandra was in a small group that stayed in the room during one of the breaks. I asked what kinds of books they read. With the significant, time-wasting effects of social media, I didn't expect much. 

Cassandra piped up, “Well, I read the classics.”

 

“So, what classics do you like to read?” I asked, unsure what to expect after learning her musical knowledge earlier.

 

"Oh, Charles Dickens, Emily Dickinson, Jane Austin. You know, writers like that," she replied with a disarming casualness.

 

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, trying not to show my amazement at this side of her. “You recommend a book for me, and I'll suggest one for you."

 

An aside: I often ask people about books they enjoy. This practice has broadened my exposure to literature. I have gotten some great recommendations that I would never have thought of reading.

 

Cassandra recommended two books: Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey.

 

I recommended Amore Towles', A Gentleman in Moscow.

 

I must admit, I have carefully avoided books like Dracula because they are so dark…horror is not my thing. But for Cassandra’s sake, I worked my way through it. 

 

Northanger Abby, on the other hand, was a lovely nineteenth-century coming-of-age novel from the perspective of the young female protagonist Catherine Morland. It was nicely paced, and I enjoyed it. 

Without chatting about books on a break with students in the presence of Cassandra, I would never have read Austen…I would have missed another piece of her mind.

 

Is there a point here?

There are times when I have come close to losing hope for my generation and the generation in which so many of my students find themselves…extreme tribalism fueled by often damaging social media. As I look around, it seems there is less and less light around the world in the sunset of my life and the dawn of theirs.

 

And then there is Cassandra, a mind full of energy and intellect yet diminutive and quiet. It just took a little early morning pre-class music to open the 'book and turn some pages.'

 

One never knows what pearls lie in the fields of people's minds and, more amazingly, the unanticipated ‘music’ that finds them. 

- ted

Falling off my bike...

“Live every day like it is your last.

You never know. It just might be!”

- Anonymous

It was one of those Sunday mornings when Dave and I rode together. Dave is eighty, and we have been doing this as regularly as clockwork for more than a decade.

The timing of the rides depends on the season. In the winter, as it is now here in the desert, it is often quite chilly in the early mornings. For the uninitiated, the thought of the desert, even in the winter, being cold, is a bit alien. However, early morning temperatures this time of year can sometimes be freezing (32°- 0°C), leading to flexible start times - between 8:30 am and 10 am.  Even when it is not that cold, early temperatures regularly range from the low forties to mid-fifties (~5-12C). 

In the summer months, the start is several hours earlier (6:30 am - 7:30 am). Our goal is to get in the neighborhood of 15 miles on the rides.

When Dave was in his seventies, I was a spry fellow moving past my mid-sixties. In those days, this bike riding thing would be, you know, a thing. So, back then, he bought a new bicycle. It was fire engine red, and he loved it. But as time and gravity moved relentlessly forward, even the small uphill grades became challenging for him.

I was, on the other hand, an energetic mid-sixtyish, able to manage those grades much better due to my youthful legs…okay, NOT so youthful; I’m just saying it was easier for me than Dave.

Then came the next change for my riding partner. One day, Dave showed up with a new partner - an electric bicycle! By now, after several years and nearly 5,000 miles on the e-bike, things are different. Now, I’m the one who finds himself unable to keep up with his hill climbing.

The first fall…

One day before COVID, Dave and I were crossing a trail bridge on our usual Sunday morning ride; I cut the corner too sharply. My bike seat caught the edge of the bridge, and I went down like a pregnant elephant. 

“Dave,” I yelled somewhere between being tangled in my bicycle and floating mid-air. With a thud, I landed on my right side, my helmet lightly bouncing on the asphalt. 

That was then…

Last week, the morning was near freezing, so we waited until ten before heading out. I have a bicycle rack for my car, allowing us to vary our rides on any given morning. Because there are some hundred and thirty miles of asphalt walking/bicycling trails here in Tucson, we start the trail from various starting points for changes in scenery.

It is the typical small-talk ride until the hills. Without fail, by the time I’d get to the top, Dave would say something like, “Nice job. Keep at it, youngster. It will get easier.”

If we leave from home rather than ‘drive to ride,’ we return home the same way. It winds through quiet neighborhoods, and except for one moderately busy road to cross it is exceedingly safe.

I thought an oncoming car was going to stop to let us cross. It didn’t, and as I was leaning right to get off the bike, I gripped the front left brake. stopping the bike dead on its wheels. I, on the other hand, continued in forward/side motion. and fell off the bike.

You know how often people say things go into slow motion when they crash their car or fall? Not me! It was BRAKE and BANG!

After lying on the pavement for a few moments, my first thought was how lucky I was not to be moving at any speed. My second thought was wondering how much pain I would have once the shock wore off. Several folks stopped to see if I was all right.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

As it turned out, I was fine, with only a minor bang to my elbow.

Later, after taking some anti-inflammatory medication and icing my right elbow, I thought about how riding a bike is a little bit like life’s journey. It can only go forward…there is no reverse gear. You only know the moment you are in, because the past is unchangeable and the future? Well none of us knows anything about that.

It’s not falling down or failing that determines one’s trajectory but getting up and going again. The impact of a fall takes a little time to absorb…, a little time to check for damage,… a little time to get back up and go again.

Next Sunday morning? We’ll be back on the bikes; grateful the crash was not my last! Not that I anticipated another fall, but rather that this fall wasn't a terminal event.

- ted