Bing Crosby
*resuscitates blog*
In the 1941 film Holiday Inn, during a particularly memorable Thanksgiving dinner, Bing Crosby sings an Irving Berlin tune, “I’ve Got Plenty to be Thankful For”.
Looking beyond the blatant and hackneyed racial stereotypes for a moment, the thing that has always struck me about this scene is the dialogue between the real Bing and the singing Bing. It’s hilarious. The words of the song are saccharine and his voice – the timbre so smooth, so, er, croonerish – slides around on the recording like a pat of melting butter, contrasting nicely with his bitter quips. I don’t know how, but somehow the scene (for me at least) always works to reinforce the sentiment in the record, and not the proto-hipster detachment he voices from his chair by the fire.
I thought of this scene a lot this week, because it has been a very difficult week. For reasons of privacy, professionalism, and procedure, I can’t go into detail here, but suffice it to say that the combination of the internet and someone’s anger was one that filled my week with stomach-wrenching anxiety, gastrointestinal distress, and sleepless nights. Eye of the storm anyone? To top it all off it was the week all my students submitted assignments, a week for which I had written nary a lecture for 4+ hours of teaching, and the week which I managed to round off on Thursday by spilling the entire contents of a 4-cup French press all over my left hand moments before getting a call from my mother who was deep in the throes of her “Diane Keaton on crack” mode. As I stood in the midst of a kitchen splattered with coffee grounds, holding a hand scalded red by boiling hot coffee, I found myself answering my mother’s accusatory “Well. I haven’t heard from you lately” with a cheery “Well, you’re hearing from me now” before slamming the phone in the cradle (sorry mom!).
Surprisingly, through all of this, I still found time, and a great degree of solace, in thinking about what I was going to wear each day. Sadly, I didn’t take any photos.
And the whole string of incidents this week has made me even more aware of all the good things in my life. Excuse me while I go all Bing Crosby.
- My partner, P. Through this week o’ hell he was nothing but supportive, conscientious, concerned, and gentle. And he cleaned up my kitchen after the French press exploded.
- Grounded, grown-up friends who put the world, and the behaviour of others, into perspective: R, MB, G, J&J, HL, MS, LH, CL – you guys rock. As do pints of Ben and Jerry’s.
- My blue electric guitar and tab sheets for Kinks songs. Music-making has always been a source of great joy in my life and this week, curling up with my guitar and playing through some fave tunes momentarily made the world a kinder place.
- Spring in England. Daffodils. Snowdrops. Little fuzzy lambs. Gorgeous, practically edible sunsets.
- Doing business with two lovely Etsy sellers – Etsy really puts some of the humanity back into commerce. And the care with which my purchases were made and packaged warmed my heart. It’s always refreshing to see how much people care about what they craft.
- Peggy Seeger. If you haven’t checked out the awesome prolific-ness of this groundbreaking Queen of Folk – seriously, Joni Mitchell and all those 1970s girls with guitars would be no where without the musical contributions of this woman – do it now. Watch this vid below. Peggy is now in her 70s, but she still tours and does amazing shows. ’Cause sometimes, there’s nothing better than a dose of good ol’ fashioned Raging Grannies feminism.
I’m off to London this morning to take some of my upper-year seminar students to an exhibition at the London Cartoon Musuem on the work of British artist, Ronald Searle. Being in the city will feel good. I love the thrum of people, the clunk of the Tube, the peculiar smell that is only found in London. Urban therapy. So good, so necessary.
