Musings from the Bunker 9/19/20

Good morning and Happy Saturday!

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MUSIC

Here is Billie Eilish from performing a “Tiny Desk Home Concert,” courtesy of Sandy Pressman: https://www.npr.org/2020/08/26/905493538/billie-eilish-tiny-desk-home-concert?utm_source=npr_newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_content=20200829&utm_term=4787735&utm_campaign=music&utm_id=43763516&orgid=

It's the Jewish new year and I’m really getting into acapella singing. Here is the “Maccabeats” with a joyful acapella rendition of “Bashana Haba’a”). English verses start at 0:51. This tune—regardless of your faith—is filled with hope and positivism, something we can use more of these days…

https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=share&v=5WsWouCsbaQ. And you’ll enjoy the sign-off, ten seconds before the ending.

And while we’re listening to music performed from home, here is Matthew Allnatt’s favorite, Cory Band, playing “Somewhere,” from West Side Story. A little slower tempo than I like, but it’s the thought that counts… And just because it makes me smile, “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0KiCXZ2IM0

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POETRY

Today’s selection comes from “Uncle” Dennis Mulhaupt:

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

--Langston Hughes

I’ve known rivers:

I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the

flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I build my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy

bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

And the poetry of Bashana Haba’a, in English:

Next Year

Next year we'll sit on our porch

And we'll count migrating birds

Kids on a holiday will play catch

Between the house and the fields

You will see, you will see

How good it will be

Next year

Red grapes will ripen till the evening

And will be served chilled to the table

Pleasant breezes will blow over the road

Some old newspapers and clouds

You will see, you will see

How good it will be

Next year

Next year we'll spread our open hands

Against the bright white light

A white heron will spread its wings in the light

And the sun will rise in their midst

You will see, you will see

Have a great weekend,

Glenn