A Tectonic Shift in the Mormon Church?

So, question of the day: is the Church of Latter Day Saints really changing?

You may know them as an easy group to hate: the Mormons. And yes, we can all laugh at their protective underwear, their beliefs that Joe Smith actually found the tablets in Palmyra, New York, (think that was where), their history of polygamy. They do, however, some things very well. They work damn hard and did make the desert bloom; they respond quickly in natural disasters; they take care of their own.

And their church is their lifeline. They are, in a sense, still living out that trek from New York to Nauvoo, Illinois, (another “think that was where”) to Salt Lake City. Yes, they have arrived, they have made a home, but they haven’t stopped clinging to one another; the desert mentality of each member being crucial in the survival of everybody still lives in their psyche. For others, church is church; for Mormons, church is their life.

Which is what made it such a compelling story in movies, plays, and fiction. There was Joe Pitt in Angels in America, there was the movie Latter Days, and now, there is an upcoming documentary about a Mormon family with a thirteen-year old gay son. And predictably, Mom goes through shock and disbelief and questioning and ends, finally, at some kind of acceptance.

Well, that seemed like something interesting, especially since the mother had gone door to door in California in 2008 campaigning for Proposition 8. And speaking of which, was there any truth to the belief that the church was backing off “defending” traditional marriage?

Having spent 45 minutes on the church’s new website, I can tell you—it’s a definite maybe. Mormons and Gays dot Org is the name, and yes, I’d call it Gays and Mormons, but that’s a quibble. And the church is quite clear in where it stands:

The experience of same-sex attraction is a complex reality for many people. The attraction itself is not a sin, but acting on it is. Even though individuals do not choose to have such attractions, they do choose how to respond to them. With love and understanding, the Church reaches out to all God’s children, including our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters.   

In the Catholic Church, which teaches the same thing, this is called the “you can be a bird, but you can’t fly” doctrine. And the site bangs the drum on love, listen, have compassion, have hope, let’s have a dialogue. Just no screwing.

So then I had to listen to the Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Twelve Apostles on “What needs to change.” Oh, and prepare yourself for a jolt—the Elder is:

1.     white

2.     elder and elderly

3.     male

Hey—if you need to lie down to absorb that, it’s perfectly fine.

He looks, in fact, like the worst combination of a mix between my old high school principal and Ike Eisenhower. And his message? Here it is:

Same gender attraction presents many issues and questions in society at large. These include what causes it, whether it is subject to change in kind or degree, and whether, or the extent of which, laws like marriage should accommodate it. Our discussion is limited to two related questions we sometimes hear in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What does our doctrine teach us about how family members and church members should treat one another when one of their members is struggling with some of these issues, and how can we help members of the church who struggle with same-gender attractions, but want to remain active and fully engaged in the church?

This same topic was discussed with all of the general authorities of the church in April of 2012. We will not discuss any of the multitude of other issues and questions. There is so much we don’t understand about this subject, that we’d do well to stay close to what we know from the revealed word of God. What we do know is that the doctrine of the church, that sexual activity should only occur between a man and a woman who are married, has not changed and is not changing. But what is changing and what needs to change is to help our own members and families understand how to deal with same gender attraction.

The church, you see, got slammed over Proposition 8; the public relations were a disaster. What had seemed like a conservative but hardworking group ended up looking like spoilers and haters. And their efforts weren’t inconsiderable: Mother Jones magazine states that at the height of the Proposition 8 campaign, there were 77 people working full time on the issue in Salt Lake City. Oh, and they kicked in 20 million bucks on it, too.

Right, now on to Ty’s story, from the video posted on the website:

Well, it wasn’t an issue for him in high school, because he still had to do his year of missionary work. But after he got home, it was time to get married, start a family. And why was it that he didn‘t want to get close, physically, to any of these girls? Was he gay? He began dating men.

He goes through several spiritual crises, always ended up with a huge and wonderful revelation: God is love. Be with Him, stay in the church, let Him into your life. He keeps struggling and struggling and decides to ask the question, being prepared not to receive a question. And the question? Is there a family in his future? Must he go alone through life alone?

Know where this is going?

We see pictures of his wife; we see pictures of their home; lastly, we see pictures of their adorable baby boy.

You’ll know my reaction. The picture I saw was of a church that had put one of its children through years of unnecessary, almost capricious, spiritual hell. And that through the message of Ty’s story—and he’s utterly sincere, by the way—will put a lot of other gay people through the same ringer.

The Huffington Post reported that the church is making connections, reaching out, rethinking. “There’s been a tectonic shift somewhere,” a church member says. The money—always a good barometer for measuring the social pressure—for defeating marriage equality bills is drying up.

I grew up in a time when homosexuality was illegal, when cops were raiding gay bars, when it was routine to talk trash about fags and queers. I now deliver food periodically to my husband’s mother; she strolls into the plaza and reads names for me. The world has changed. I understand Ty’s longing to have a family, I came to realize how much I had missed only recently, when I saw Raf’s nephew matter-of-factly dawdle his daughter on his knee. I stole away and bawled for the children I’d never known.

I chose a husband and no kids over a wife and kids. But I think all of us—the Catholic and Mormon churches as well—need to get here: you can have a husband and kids.

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The Archbishop Sighs Relief

Readers, you can now stop worrying. The archbishop of San Juan, Roberto González Nieves, is off the hook. Subject to a 19-month long apostolic visit—and one imagines the small talk and social chitchat wearies after 19 months—he came up clean.

Or so the Vatican Insider says; the site quotes González Nieves saying this:

Exonerado de toda culpa. El Vaticano confirmó que el arzobispo de San Juan de Puerto Rico, Roberto González Nieves, no es rebelde y que las denuncias en su contra nunca tuvieron fundamento. Lo confirmó él mismo, hace unos días durante una conferencia de prensa en su país. Ahora sus seguidores piden que se limpie su nombre.

Rough translation: Exonerated of all guilt. The Vatican confirmed that the archbishop of San Juan de Puerto Rico, Roberto González Nieves, is no rebel and that the denunciations against him never had a base. He himself confirmed it, some days ago during a press conference in his country. Now, his followers request that his name be cleared.

You may remember the case. The archbishop, born in New Jersey but raised in San Juan, arrived on the island after serving in New York, Boston, and Corpus Christi. He soon ruffled feathers of the statehood flock by more or less openly being an independentista. He spearheaded efforts to get the navy out of Vieques—OK, we were all pretty much on that page—and brokered a deal when the government shut down in 2006.

Then, he got it into his head to create the Altar de la Patria.

“What actually is “patria?” I asked Mr. Fernández, those many years ago before I was sufficiently politicized.

He gave me an explanation that made no sense. So I asked my friend Tony, who gave me the story. Loosely, it runs like this: there was a politician who was ostensibly for the commonwealth, our current status. But he referred constantly to the “patria,” which became a code word to indicate independence. So if you want to talk about independence without talking about independence, you talk about the patria.

See?

Actually, González Nieves threw a bit more salt into the wound by setting up, as well, what he called, “Capilla del Santísimo Cristo de toda la nación puertorriqueña.” This is guaranteed to set statehood mouths frothing, since it translates into “The Chapel of the most holy Christ of all the Puerto Rican nation.”

The opposition pushed back, charging that the archbishop was inserting politics into the church. And certainly the last governor—rumored to have ties to Opus Dei, and very much pro-statehood—was no particular fan of the archbishop.

Hence the apostolic visit, which, according to González Nieves, found nothing. But there were four charges:

1.     Sheltering pederast priests

2.     Supporting a bill that would allow roommates of either sex health benefits

3.     Selling a parish school without authorization

4.     Creating the famous Alta de la Patria

Things got a little hot for the archbishop, but he’s a fighter. On May 8 of this year, he organized 100 religious groups to come and see him celebrate mass, on the anniversary of his entering the priesthood. He passed the word to send letters to the Vatican, and then came out and said, “please, please, don’t send letters to the Vatican. I beg your prayers instead.”

Smart, hunh?

Then a letter got leaked, in which the archbishop expressed his horror at the gravity of the charges against him, and the hurt that the strong suggestion that he should resign caused him. Never, he said, would he resign. The charges against him were lies and defamations.

Unafraid of pushing any more buttons, González Nieves then decided to get a great Puerto Rican patriot, who had died in Spain and had been buried in Cádiz, back home and re-interrate him, presumably, in the Capilla del Santísimo Cristo de toda la nación puertorriqueña. There, his remains would rest in heavenly harmony with those of his great friend, the first Puerto Rican bishop.

“Ridiculous,” said Mr. Fernández, “The guy was buried in a mass grave during an outbreak of yellow fever. Of course they don’t have DNA evidence—how could they? Nah—they scooped up some bones, conjured up a lab result, and shipped it off to Puerto Rico, probably laughing their heads off. You know the Spanish.”

Right—so the remains of somebody arrived on the island, and were greeted with great Caribbean formality and enthusiasm. Now the question—what to do with them?

Well, they lay around in the State Department for a while, and then, González Nieves announced that he had received authorization from the Vatican to place the remains in the capilla. This they did, on 10 June, in an elaborate celebration, marked by the very finest vestments, incense, altar boys, and the 100-strong Mita choir, singing nationalistically or perhaps just patriotically.

González Nieves announced it all several days before; The First Hour, or Primera Hora, published it all in an article titled “I Survived the Storm” or He sobrevivido a la tormenta. He said:

“Le pido a Dios la fuerza de perdonar porque no es fácil”, aseguró en una rueda de prensa en referencia a quienes lo acusaron en Roma.

“La visita apostólica entra ya a su fase final. Yo creo que puedo decir que el visitador apostólico no encontró que yo hubiera protegido a sacerdotes pedófilos y además hay un informe de la Congregación de Doctrina y Fe que indica que he tratado esos casos con los debidos protocolos”, expresó.

“I ask God for the strength to forgive because it’s not easy,” he stated in a press conference referring to those who accused him in Rome.

“The apostolic visit is now entering its final stage. I believe I can now say that the apostolic visitor didn’t find that I had protected pederast priests and that I had as well a report from the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith that indicated that I have treated the cases with the correct protocols,” he said.

Note carefully that phrase, “the apostolic visit is entering its final stage.” To me, that means it’s still going on, and the jury’s still out. The Vatican, as far as I can see, has not made an announcement on the matter.

Think the archbishop is bluffing?

When Religion Gets it Right

Alan Chambers said he was sorry in a lengthy apology; here’s part of what he said.

Please know that I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for the pain and hurt many of you have experienced. I am sorry that some of you spent years working through the shame and guilt you felt when your attractions didn’t change. I am sorry we promoted sexual orientation change efforts and reparative theories about sexual orientation that stigmatized parents. I am sorry that there were times I didn’t stand up to people publicly “on my side” who called you names like sodomite—or worse. I am sorry that I, knowing some of you so well, failed to share publicly that the gay and lesbian people I know were every bit as capable of being amazing parents as the straight people that I know. I am sorry that when I celebrated a person coming to Christ and surrendering their sexuality to Him that I callously celebrated the end of relationships that broke your heart. I am sorry that I have communicated that you and your families are less than me and mine. 

Chambers was head of the largest “ex-gay” group, Exodus International, which promulgated the theory that gay people could change their sexual orientation through a deep personal relationship with God. That, coupled with “reparative therapy” would be enough. And if didn’t work? You weren’t trying hard enough, or the demon was too strongly attached to your soul.

To call it “reparative therapy,” however, is to legitimize barbarity.

So Chambers has apologized, and gone further: he has shut Exodus International down. And that leads to the question: how to forgive?

“Sorry is the cheapest coin in the vocabulary,” said a character in one of my favorite books, and I knew immediately what she meant. The amount of damage that the ex-gay movement has done is enormous; people exposed to reparative therapy are eight times more likely to attempt suicide; six times more likely to be severely depressed; three times more likely to use illegal drugs.

So sorry is not enough. What has to be done?

Two things.

I heard a TED talk recently by a South African who discussed what happened after apartheid. How was the nation to heal? How do you get over wounds like that?

The solution was a nation-wide series of reconciliation meetings, where blacks and whites, abusers and abused, came together, shared their stories and pain, listened to each other. Chambers started that process three months ago, when he sat with the people he had harmed in a church basement in Los Angeles. The event was filmed, and will be aired tonight on Lisa Ling’s “Our Americas.”

The question in my mind is whether that’s enough. For many, many years I refused to go into a church—making one exception only for St. John the Divine in New York City. Now, after years of movement, effort, and work by the Episcopalian Church, I could enter their places of worship. But I can’t think of any other church I could say that about.

Nor was I particularly harmed by the church—my parents were only nominally religious, I never took the thing seriously enough to care what they taught about homosexuality. But I had many friends who did, and who suffered gravely at the hands of organized religion. And if coming out was one of the five hardest things I’ve done in my life, I place some of the blame on the church. So yeah, I was affected; we all were.

So Chambers, you’re gonna have to do much more. You’re going to have to apologize, decry reparative therapy, travel the country giving speeches welcoming LGBT people into your church, stand up for marriage equality, start organizations, raise money for victims—in short, do a lot of actions that tell gay people, yeah, you’ve changed. We can trust you.

That was number one.

Number two?

There are people in religion who get it, and whom we should support. On of them is an Episcopalian priest, the Reverend Albert Ogle. Gay himself, he spent a lot of time advocating for marriage equality in California, where he lives, when the thought struck him: all the work he was doing in a developed country was simply making it more difficult for people in undeveloped countries.

There are 76 countries where homosexuality is still a crime. And increasingly, those countries are becoming more repressive, not less so. Why? Ogle likens it to big tobacco: as the market declines in the developing world, businesses look to new markets.

Remember the family, the super-secret organization that organizes the National Prayer Breakfast? Remember Scott Lively, the guy who went down to Uganda and spoke to members of parliament, giving them the news that the Nazi and Rwanda genocides were caused by gay people?

In addition, there’s been a flood of money given to religious groups under George W. Bush’s “faith based initiative” program.

So Ogle makes the point—is this simply a stunt, shutting down Exodus International? There’s still Exodus Global, and that’s where the real work is going on.

Ogle has set up a foundation, the St. Paul’s Foundation for International Reconciliation; here’s what he has to say:

 The Foundation was created in 2010 as an IRS 501 (c) 3 non-profit corporation and is a registered California charity.

Our focus has been on the intersection of human rights, health, education and faith, by providing resources for emerging grass roots organizations and leaders in the Global South. Local organizations are given assistance to create innovative HIV education and prevention programs, women’s development and self employment programs and providing training and education projects to build sustainable communities. Educational programs in Europe and North America seek partner congregations, foundations and donors to provide funds, technical assistance and advocacy, so that marginalized groups can be included more deliberately in their own larger communities.

In addition to the foundation, Ogle has created a website, 76crimes.org, which focuses attention on repressive countries around the world. I didn’t know that Jamaica—two islands away—is scheduled to have a mass protest against repealing the anti-buggery law on Sunday, and that the event was organized by the island’s churches.

So yes, we have to keep up the fight. And yes, we have to reach out and help the millions of people who have it worse.

To Beethoven via South Korea

I read recently that nineteenth-century violin virtuoso Joseph Joachim had said, “The Germans have four violin concertos. The greatest, most uncompromising is Beethoven's. The one by Brahms vies with it in seriousness. The richest, the most seductive, was written by Max Bruch. But the most inward, the heart's jewel, is Mendelssohn's.

I know them, but curiously hardly ever hear them. Why? Well, one of the paradoxes of classical music is that when a piece gets played often enough, it gains “warhorse” status, and people then tend to shun it. Think I’m wrong? When was the last time you heard Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony?

Of the four concerti, Beethoven’s is the oldest and—some would argue—the best. It’s also fiendishly difficult: the violin has to go into the stratosphere and still be utterly lyrical. It’s therefore almost unbelievable that Beethoven gave the part to the violinist Franz Clement so late that Clement was sight-reading (that is, playing it for the first time) at the first performance. That may have been why Clement chose to play a little ditty for one string with his violin held upside down between the first and second movements. In fairness, breaking up movements was a fairly common practice at the time; earlier generations were less fussy in those days.

At any rate, the debut was not a great success, and the concerto went essentially un-played for a couple of decades, when it was revived by a twelve-year old Joachim with Mendelssohn conducting.

It’s a typical concerto—nothing revolutionary here. OK—it’s a little weird to have those four somber timpani notes starting the whole thing, but other than that, it’s fairly traditional. It starts out with the orchestra playing the tutti, which introduces the principal themes, as well as giving the soloist time to fully feel his dry mouth, sweaty hands, and churning stomach. Then we get the soloist coming in, and playing a miniature cadenza—a solo passage which is or should feel improvised and which, generally, is highly virtuosic. There’s nothing virtuosic here, it’s mainly meant to tease—when is the violinist gonna get down to business and play us some tunes?

He or she does for about twenty minutes—Beethoven takes his sweet time wrapping this thing up. And the first movement ends with a true, fiery cadenza. The second movement is Beethoven at his most lyric, and the third movement—which is connected to the second, a typical Beethoven trick—is almost fatally a rondo.

A good blogger would look it up, and give you the formula for the damn thing—it goes something like aabbaaccaaddaa and then—at last—the end. So the first problem is that you’re gonna hear the aa six zillion times. The second problem is that the tunes chosen by the composer tend to be mildly irritating at the start, so by the end? You’ll be gagging.

And Beethoven, with all his skill, comes very close to not pulling it off. He has, however, to his aid an incredible violinist, Kyung-wha Chung. Chung has quite a story—her mother was a singer, and two of her siblings are professional musicians as well. So she grew up playing with her cellist sister and pianist brother, and was famous in South Korea, their home. From there, it was off to Julliard, where she had two major challenges—Juilliard was filled with child prodigies as good as she, and her teacher, the famous and feared Ivan Galamian, didn’t think much of female violinists. He thought she’d make an orchestra violinist, not a soloist.

The life of a conservatory student took its toll on Chung. Although she was fiendishly disciplined, she grew depressed: other people were dating, having fun, dancing in clubs. She was practicing every waking moment; despondent, she considered giving up the violin.

The family reacted by having an emergency meeting. They decided: Chung would enter the prestigious Edgar Leventritt Violin Competition. If she didn’t win, she could give up. If she won, she’d go on. She told Galamian, who adored her, but feared she would be lost to marriage.

He was also teaching a kid named Pinchas Zuckerman, who had the chromosome that Chung lacked. So, she didn’t get much support. Oh, except for her mother, who sold the family home to buy a Stradivarius for the event.

She didn’t win—she did something better. She tied with Zuckerman, the first time that any two people had been declared winners; some years, no one wins the thing if the judges don’t feel there’s anybody up to snuff.

Zuckerman’s career took off; hers languished. And then, she got a break—Zuckerman’s wife was giving birth, and Chung was asked to step in. She prepared the Tchaikovsky concerto, the orchestra played the Mendelssohn, instead. Right, so she could do that—they prep you for stuff like that in Juilliard. She played it perfectly, and the London Symphony Orchestra, which thought she was a lightweight, was impressed.

In the clip below, she’s at the peak of her career, and playing with a wonderful orchestra, the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, with Klauss Tennstedt as conductor. The orchestra has this wonderful, rich sound; Chung goes from fiery virtuosity to almost unbearable tenderness. It’s a knockout.

A Banker, Dispatched

News of the day, here in our sunny isle, is that a lawsuit has been filed in federal court by the widow and daughter of Maurice Spagnoletti, a banker gunned down by professional hit men on 15 June 2011.

(Grammatical Readers, please note that the computer, in general correctly worried about excessive use of the passive voice, has gently suggested this: “News of the day, here in our sunny isle, is that professional hit men have filed a lawsuit in federal court by the widow and daughter of Maurice Spagnoletti, a banker gunned down on 15 June 2011.” Your choice!)

And if even a few of the allegations of the suit are true, it’s a shocker.

According to the suit, Spagnoletti was hired by Doral Bank as Chief Operating Officer in 2011; he moved to Puerto Rico from New Jersey, and once on the island, began sniffing rats.

There was the million-dollar loan backed by a hotel—all well and good, but where was the hotel?

Didn’t exist.

There was the architect who got several hundred thousand dollars for a branch that was never built. Or what about the loan for $900,000 for a condo in Isla Verde? Spagnoletti went out to see it himself—the place had been trashed by its previous owner; even the kitchen appliances had been removed. Spagnoletti figured it was worth 600,000, max.

There were other irregularities—money paid to contractors for lighting supplies and office furniture that were never installed or delivered. Oh yes, and what about the $30,000 that was transferred weekly from Doral Bank or Doral Financial for services that were not performed?

Then Spagnoletti—according to the suit—began wondering about the accounting practices: were the numbers right? He asked the Chief Financial Officer, Robert Wahlman, and never got a clear answer. He then pressed for an audit by an outsider CPA—that didn’t happen either.

Spagnoletti focused his attention on Annelise Figueroa, Executive Vice President of Facilities and Operations, and began to press for her dismissal. He locked horns with Enrique Ubarri-Baragano, Executive Vice President, General Counsel, and Chief of Compliance of Doral Financial. Ubarri-Baragano insisted that Figueroa stay, the two men had a fierce argument. At one point in the argument, Ubarri-Baragano tells Spagnoletti that he would “regret it” if Figueroa was fired.

According to the suit, Spagnoletti was having a hard time sleeping at night—who wouldn’t?

The suit says that the FBI was aware of “irregularities,” and that the bank was being investigated; the suit also claims that the FBI has documents that would corroborate the allegations, documents that the feds have refused to give up to the wife.

Spagnoletti appealed to Glen Wakeman, the CEO and president of Doral Financial, the man who had hired Spagnoletti. And Wakeman agreed that Figueroa had to go; he left it up to Spagnoletti to do the termination, though Figueroa reported to Wakeman.

It turned nasty—Spagnoletti walked into work one day and found a photo of Figueroa with a black “X” over her pasted on his door. He told Wakeman, the bank investigated, and told Spagnoletti that there was no credible threat. Wakeman, in the meantime, got increased security; Spagnoletti could neither ride in the same car nor elevator with his boss, due to “security protocols.”

Then the family began to feel that they were being trailed.

The hit came on 15 June 2011. Spagnoletti had left the office, and was driving to his home in Condado, a wealthy and safe (usually) beach community of San Juan. Apparently, he was racing, aware that he was being followed; the car behind him drew up on his left, and three shots were fired, expertly delivering him.

So expertly, in fact, that almost immediately the police suspected that nobody on the island was that good: it had to be professionals from outside.

Which was what the guy told Spagnoletti’s widow, Marisa, at the airport two days later. The man told her that he worked for Doral in the security department, he was aware of the plot to kill Spagnoletti, and that the director of the department, José Robles, had been involved.

The suit lists Doral Financial Corporation, Doral Bank Puerto Rico, Glen Wakeman, Enrique Ubarri-Baragano, José Robles, Annelise Figueroa, John Does 1-10, Jane Does 1-10 and ABC Corps. 1-10 as defendants. Doral Bank has stated that the claims are frivolous, harmful, and completely without merit.

Whether true or not, it can’t be said that the bank is doing particularly well. In November of 2012, the stock exchange considered delisting the stock, which had been selling below a buck for over thirty days. Caribbean Business reported that in March of 2013 the bank had created a “bad bank,” called Doral Recovery, to handle all the assets that had tanked. And Investigative Reporting Workshop’ Banktracker reported that in March of this year Doral had a 105 ratio of troubled assets versus reserves; the industry average is 10.9.

No one knows, at this point, how many of the allegations are true, or to what extent. What’s sure is that one man, Maurice Spagnoletti, might have had some answers.

And he ain’t talking….

Cage recaged?

It’s been a day when all my rituals got shuffled, if not dropped. I woke up late, the morning went untrotted, the students never got their assignment, and there was seemingly nothing to write about. In a funk, I turned to a TED Talk on music by the contemporary composer Mark Applebaum.

And Applebaum is an engaging guy—bright, witty, funny. And his music is just as idiosyncratic as he is. He started out by playing a bit of Beethoven and then asking the question—is it music?

He then began to talk about his compositions, among which is the Concerto for Florist and Orchestra (nope—you’re gonna have to look it up yourself). And then he went on to demonstrate a new instrument he had invented: it had, among other things, all the combs he could find in the house, what looked like the ball from a toilet tank, and a coiled metal door stopper).

Right—so that was interesting. Now then, what about the music?

Well, it’s something that used to be called avant-garde and might now be called devant-garde. By which I mean that there was a time, in those days of the sixties, when blindfolded artists were flinging paint at canvases for a set period of time, letting it all dry, and then shipping it off to be displayed at museums, where people would stand about and pontificate. Or, painters would paint a canvas one solid color; there’s a whole room full of such art in the MoMA.

“Are we going to try to take this seriously?” I asked Johnny, who was standing next to me.

“Nah,” he said, and we both headed for the next hall.

Well, we all got busy doing other things, and somehow all that experimental zaniness faded away. So I was quite prepared, in fact very cheerfully prepared, to dismiss Applebaum as another gimmick, another in a long line of guys doing essentially the same thing.

Wrong. I ended liking the piece below, entitled “Aphasia,” which was inspired by seeing two deaf mutes having a heated conversation—a discussion full of affect but with no sound. And it’s clear—the guy must have worked long hours both to compose it and then to memorize it.

So what’s it all about? It’s a metaphor for the “expressive paralysis” that comes on in that dreaded moment when it’s a battle between the empty page of music and the composer—and the empty page is winning. Here’s what Applebaum said about it….

"Kids love it. So do people who need a break from conventional modes of expression."

Aha!—that’s why I liked it!

In this, however, not all people join me. Has anyone else noticed—the people who comment on YouTube videos have to be the most churlish in the universe? So I was unsurprised to run into this: Typical liberal arts bullshit. Trying to be edgy but comes off looking like something Tim and Eric created.

Tim? Eric? Who are they?

Well that was interesting, so what about the piece, Echololia? And what, by the way, was echololia? Echolalia I knew, as any old psychiatric nurse would—schizophrenics occasionally repeat the last three or four words of a sentence; kids do too, at a certain stage of development. The difference? Kids grow out of it.

The piece, at any rate, is a sequence of sounds that we wouldn’t necessarily consider music—drills, hammers, the screech of duct tape. Curiously, the only sound from a standard musical comes at the very end of the piece—and no, I won’t spoil it. So how would it sound?

Applebaum scores again! And here the churl that inevitably taps out his frustration in YouTube scoffs—John Cage did it all years ago.

Well that seemed like something I had to check out, and yes, as you can see below, Cage did much the same thing years ago.



Speaking of Cage, I didn’t know that he had been Merce Cunningham’s romantic partner for years—a fact of absolutely no significance. Just a drop of trivia dripping into the blog—sorry!

Well, that got me thinking—there is indeed nothing new under the sun. And I’m sure that Applebaum knows of Harry Partch, especially since they are (was, in the case of Partch) both Californians.

Partch was a definite loose screw—at one point he was a hobo, at another point he was at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. And yes, he too invented his own instruments—he described himself as “a philosophic music-man seduced into carpentry".

He did more—he decided to throw out the traditional scale and created, well…let Wikipedia describe it….

Inspired by Sensations of Tone, Hermann von Helmholtz's book on acoustics and the perception of sound, Partch based his music strictly on just intonation. He tuned his instruments using the overtone series, and extended it past the twelfth partial. This allowed for a larger number of smaller, unequal intervals than found in the Western classical music tradition's twelve-tone equal temperament. Partch's tuning is often classed as microtonality, as it allowed for intervals smaller than 100 cents, though Partch did not conceive his tuning in such a context.[28] Instead, he saw it as a return to pre-Classical Western musical roots, in particular to the music of the ancient Greeks. By taking the principles he found in Helmholtz's book, he expanded his tuning system until it allowed for a division of the octave into 43 tones based on ratios of small integers.

Confused? Join the club—I had several semesters of music theory, and I can barely wade through the paragraph myself.

So yes, Applebaum had people who had trod down the path he’s now treading—so what? Haven’t we all? And yes, I’ll go along, at the moment, with his answer to the question of the Beethoven? Is it music?

His response?

It’s the wrong question—it should be, “Is it interesting?”

Yes—to both Beethoven and Applebaum.

Back on the Fence!

OK—a fact, a story, and a change of mind (maybe)….

Fact—in 2012, the federal government made 1856 requests for warrants to the FISA judges. And guess how many of those requests were granted?

1856.

Caveat—I haven’t checked this number out; I’m trusting Gail Collins of The New York Times, those fire-eating liberals up there. But if correct, we could save money on the whole FISA thing and buy a rubber stamp, instead.

Story—in 2004, several bombs were detonated in the Madrid subway system. Spain asked the FBI to search its database of fingerprints after a print was found on a detonating device; the FBI complied, and sent back a response: they had a match. A 100% match.

The FBI’s own records would reveal that there were 20 possible matches, but the FBI focused on Brandon Mayfield, a Portland lawyer who had served in the military (which was, ironically, why his prints were in the database) and who had converted to Islam.

Strange things began happening in the Mayfield home—doors were locked that hadn’t been, a computer screen was half unscrewed, and the computer itself had a hard drive half sticking out. The family became convinced that somebody had been entering the house.

Nor was it just Mayfield—remember those 19 other possible matches? Well, the same thing was going on with them. Oh, and by the way, Spain, which had never been convinced about the fingerprint anyway, now had a suspect a bit more credible than a guy raised in Kansas. It was an Algerian man named Ouhnane Daoud.

In April, Spain notified the FBI that they believed Mayfield’s print was a negative match. Amazingly, the FBI keeps right at it, and on May 6, 2004, the FBI arrested Mayfield. They then turned around and leaked the news to the media, which was how the family found out where poppa was.

Mayfield sat uncharged in prison for 20 days; it took Spain announcing the name of the suspect and international attention before Mayfield was released.

Ready for the punch line?

Mayfield had not left American soil for eleven years prior to the explosions in Spain.

The FBI conducted an internal review and found—hang very tight to your seat here—that they had not misused the PATRIOT Act. I can feel the relief of all you readers out there; relax—have a beer.

Mayfield—well, there’s always somebody to spoil the party, isn’t there—wasn’t satisfied. Explicably, he sued; just as explicably, he won, at least partially. Here’s Wikipedia on the subject:

On November 29, 2006, the U.S. government settled part of the lawsuit with Mayfield for a reported $2 million. The government issued a formal apology to Mayfield as part of the settlement. The settlement allowed Mayfield to pursue a legal challenge against the Patriot Act.[7] The FBI was also cleared of wrongdoing in an earlier internal investigation.

On September 26, 2007, two provisions of the U.S. Patriot Act were declared unconstitutional. Finding in Mayfield's favor, Judge Aiken ruled that the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, as amended by the Patriot Act, "now permits the executive branch of government to conduct surveillance and searches of American citizens without satisfying the probable cause requirements of the Fourth Amendment," which violates the Constitution of the United States.[8] The Federal government appealed that ruling, and Mayfield's attorney, Elden Rosenthal, argued in front of the Ninth Circuit court on February 5, 2009.[1] The ruling was overturned in December 2009.

It seems that Mayfield had committed two crimes: he had served in the military (which got his prints into the FBI database) and he had converted to Islam (which was a red flag for the FBI).

You could argue that it was an isolated case, but I’d return that 19 other people were also being investigated. But what’s completely troubling is the mindset of the FBI—they are determined, despite all evidence, to get this guy, to nail him for a crime he didn’t commit on foreign soil.

I wrote a couple of days ago about Thomas Friedman and his argument—the time to start a database is not after you have a suspect but before. Persuasive—I bought in briefly. But now I’m wondering—if you want my vote, there have got to be better safeguards against abuse than those now in place. 

Sorry, Tom!

Just Another Battle

“Courage,” somebody or other once said—I’m too lazy to look it up, though I am putting it in quotes—“is a muscle that grows stronger with exercise.”

It’s probably true, because why did I come out, unwittingly, to a roomful of strangers? Oh, and out Mr. Fernández too.

Granted, it was hardly a backwoods bar in rural Mississippi; it was room full of poets, or poetry lovers. So the chances of being asked to step outside and settle our differences with our dukes were slim. Instead, the crowd laughed and two women of our sort gave us amused smiles as they passed near to us.

Mr. Fernández was there at my bidding, reading a poem of my mother’s. One of his many talents, besides cooking and holding contrarian opinions (and things not to be discussed here), is reading poetry. So I had assigned him the poem, and prepped him to mention me and especially Iguanas. Sales are terrible—actually, non-existent….

In the course of his introduction, he mentioned Franny as his friend—this I found sweet. However, he also mentioned me as his friend—this I found odd. So I found myself, in my booming teacher’s voice, saying something like, “Sweetheart, I’m your husband!”

He looked up and over at me, grinned, and said, “yeah, we got married four years ago.” Then he went on to read—very well—the poem.

I tell you this story because of what didn’t happen—neither Raf nor I mentioned it after the incident, and nobody commented on it except the owner of the place; she thought it was great.

This is completely unlike what I went through the first time I came out. Then, I couldn’t even speak the words; I had to write a letter. That meant a wait of five days or so, during which my stomach was knotted into dreadlocks.

I also tell you the story because, for many of us, we’re not living in a roomful of poets, but the aforementioned backwoods bar in Mississippi instead. Or maybe Omaha, Nebraska, which is where Danielle Powell was attending the religious college of Grace University.

Well, all was well with Danielle: she was the first person in her family to attend college, she was close to graduation. Then, a “spiritual advisor” ratted the news to the school’s Judiciary Board: Danielle was having an affair with a woman.

They hauled her in, asked her if she was sorry, and told her that she could continue, if she submitted to a “restoration process,” lived off campus, and didn’t sleep overnight in the dorms. Oh, and they also suspended her and didn’t allow her to finish the semester.

All this is bad—what catapults the story into heinous is that Danielle was forced into coming out to her parents and family before she was ready to. And you can imagine—from the very fact that she was attending a religious school, and was the first person in her family to do so—that her family was probably quite conservative.

Danielle then decided—smart move—not to go back to Grace; she found another college to attend. But guess what? Grace told her she has to pay 6300 bucks to get her transcript transferred to the other school.

Why the $6300? Here’s what the Huffington Post said:

James (Executive Vice President of Grace University) said anyone who withdraws before the semester is 60 percent complete will usually owe a balance, because federal law obligates Grace to return Title IV funds -- federal grants, loans and work-study funds -- on behalf of the withdrawn student. "Suspension or expulsion constitutes withdrawal," James said in an email.

Right—so the school suspends her, and then pours a little salt into the wound, forcing her to pay $6300 for it all?

Oh, and by the way, notice to whom the school is repaying: the federal government. So Uncle Sam is giving money to schools with religious scruples (their term) or which practice hate and blatant discrimination (my term!) Yeah? That’s where the taxpayers’ money is going?

Well, I looked it up, Grace University, and immediately had Mathew 6:12 flashed into my eyes. And then came across this:

Grace University has a long-lasting reputation of developing servant leaders for the home, the church and the world through excellence in biblically-integrated education. Here students receive a life-changing experience in a personal and discipling environment, all for the glory of God. Review the links below to learn more about our history, educational goals, beliefs, and more.

Biblically-integrated? Discipling?

Danielle is fighting back, along with her wife—the couple married in Iowa. There’s an online petition asking Grace to forgive the debt. I’ll certainly sign that, and my start one on my own.

How about denying federal funds to any institution that practices discrimination in any form, including sexual orientation?