Overheard on Facebook...

Victor on Facebook remarked:

"...honestly, i don't think government is necessary.the rich should be the ones to dole out the cash to help the poor."

‎@Victor from me -

"Thats how it used to be. The rich had big homes, private railway cars, held big and lavish parties, etc. But it was understood that they also had obligations.

A good example is Andrew Carnegie. He was a tyrant when it came to business. He is reputed to have said "Power is my ability to say 'No' to you and make it stick."

He made lots of money.

He also donated entire libraries to communities which couldn't afford them, and pipe organs to churches and municipal auditoria.

Nobody made him do it - it came with the territory and was expected.

But anymore the rich are interested in doing one thing: getting richer. They have no sense of social obligation.

Is it so surprising that the government has taken over the charitable work once done by millionaires? But they do it to curry favor with the masses and get re-elected by virtue of how many promises they can make of a chicken in every pot (except mine and other vegetarians) and two cars in every garage (are we supposed to stack them?), only to break them after the election.

People have come to expect government charity as their due. (They dont call those programs 'entitlements' for nothing...)

There are going to be abuses in all levels of society; we the people are the ones who must ultimately decide which abuses we will tolerate. And which freedoms we may be forced to give up as a result.

I think we need a government which will deliver the mail on time and defend our interests and our borders, leaving the charitable work to the private sector. And if that counts for having a duplex in Fool's Paradise, well, call the moving company...

Olivia

Jus' doin' the Charleston

My Country...and yours

I had a rather nice exchange of emails with my friend Johanna the other day. I had just published the first episode of this blog, and received this email:

"Thank you for the invitation (I joined), funny that your blog was about the national anthem since today I am going to take the test to become an American citizen!"

I knew she of everyone I know would pass he test, so I jumped the gun a bit in saying:

"Welcome to citizenship in our strange but great country. I am sure you will pass the test with high marks, but more importantly than that, you will have done something that only a small percentage of our citizenry does in their lifetimes: learn about our history and our governmental forms.

"It took me until middle-age before I learned about my country and the strengths my grandparents brought to this country when they fled Hitler's takeover of Czechoslovakia. But I am glad I did, for despite its shortcomings, I am proud to be an American - and likewise will be proud to welcome you as a new citizen.

"God bless you and your family..."

She replied:

"Such sweet and heartfelt words of welcome. I thank you.

"Your story is yet another reminder of how the fate of one generation is forever altered due to historic events.

"I went in today expecting only to take the test but ended up being sworn in today as well so as of this afternoon I am an American citizen! I expected to walk out of there without my (Scandinavian) accent but I guess I'm stuck with that ☺

"It won't be long before I won't remember anymore how many representatives there are or how many amendments the constitution has, I will probably also soon forget the 5 US territories or who was the US president during world war one, but as of right now I actually know all the answers to all the 100 questions on the test that I was studying for to become a citizen. I enjoyed learning it all, and I will enjoy being an American from this day forward."

Do you enjoy being an American? Are you proud? I hope so...

Our country has many shortcomings, it is true, but yet it remains the "more perfect form of government" envisioned by the writers of our Constitution. They sought to give us a living document, and succeeded!

I have personally travelled the breadth of our continent, from sea to sea. I have seen the purple mountains and the amber waves. I have stood on Omaha Beach in France among the graves of our boys laid to rest in a piece of the USA facing the English Channel. I have entered a village in Normandy which commemorates D-Day with banners which say "We welcome our liberators" even more than 60 years later...

There must be something right with the USA to inspire people even at this time to seek their fortune, leaving home and kindred for the promises of the New World.

So again I say to Johanna, Welcome! Share with us your talents as we will share with you the greatness of our diversity.

Olivia
'Jus doin' the Charleston...

Where did you get that title?

A number of people have asked me that...

I stole it, of course! And from a first-class source. (of course)

It comes from the mind and pen of Frank Gilbreth, who for more than 40 years wrote a column of that name under the pseudonym of "Ashley Cooper". (Note that his pen-name is taken from the names of the two rivers which converge in Charleston Harbor to form the Atlantic Ocean...)

I quote a column written by one of his colleagues hours after his death.

I am humbled by his writing genius, and hope to live up to so worthy a mentor.

Olivia
Jus' doin' the Charleston

********

Why Charleston will remember Ashley Cooper
Tuesday, February 20, 2001
by Elsa McDowell

Years ago, Lord Ashley Cooper started preparing his own epitaph:
"Although he lived in the twentieth century, he didn't have anything to do with the invention of the atomic bomb, internal combustion engine, TV commercial, rock music or non-objective art."

We all smiled because, of course, Ashley Cooper will be remembered for what he did, not what he didn't do.

He made us smile. He made us think. He made us angry - but never for long. In his column here, beloved by readers, he would make fun of tourists one day and make fun of native Charlestonians the next.

He would recount colorful stories of old Charleston one day and of present-day Charleston the next.

He delighted us with comical slice-of-life vignettes, and he challenged us with prickly community issues.

Ashley Cooper earned the respect and affection of thousands of readers, and when he retired from column-writing in 1993, they grieved. Many are still grieving.

EXCEPTIONAL MAN

Ashley Cooper, of course, was the pen name of Frank Gilbreth Jr., who died Sunday.

This is the spot in the paper that Mr. Gilbreth filled for more than 40 years. It seems a fitting place to pay tribute to him. And it seems the best way to pay tribute to a masterful columnist is in his own words.

• "I don't know about other Charlestonians, but the way I tell summer from winter is that in winter we get lots of Lincolns, Cadillacs and stuffed shirts, and in summer get lots of Chevrolets, Fords and stuffed shorts."

• "What we really need in Charleston are tourists who will send their money here but stay home themselves."

ON CHARLESTON
• "In a hick town they take up the sidewalks at night. In Charleston, the sidewalks are in such bad shape that if you took them up you'd never get them back down again."

• "Who was it who said that Charleston - our Holy City - was like a lesson in verbs? Yes, you discover the present tense and the past perfect."

• "A correspondent advises Lord Ashley never to ask anyone where he is from. 'If he is from Charleston, he will soon announce that fact,' alleges my correspondent. 'If he is not from Charleston, there is no need to embarrass him.' "

• "They say we in Charleston spend more money on liquor than we do on education. But, my goodness, what you can learn at a Charleston cocktail party!"

• "What is full of slime and hooey,
Makes the stomach loop-the-loop?
What is slippery and gluey?
Greasy, gooey OKRA SOUP."

• He stirred up heated emotions over the Confederate flag (which he thought didn't belong over the Statehouse); over "y'all" and "youze guys;" and over historic preservation.

He wrote about cockroaches and Gullah, about George Gershwin and palmettos, about slumlords and bike paths.

His words remind us why we love Charleston and why we will long remember Frank Gilbreth, who loved it too.

Sing, America!

It's Stupor Bowl Time!

All my friends are talking about it...that time of year when we get to hear WHO is going to caterwaul, abuse, screech, mutilate, and desecrate our National Anthem. Oh, that's right - some people call it singing...

It's all right to stretch the meter a little bit. And no one can object to a hint of rubato now and again. And a few ornaments, tastefully inserted, help to spice up the vocal line. And a touch of pitch-bending makes it sound more contemporary.

THis is all fine and good. It is in the best traditions of both classical and pop music.

But instead of musical excellence we get something distantly related to music instead. We take a so-called "artist" whose main claim to fame is reading pointless and marginally obscene non-sequiturs as part of their role on a sitcom, and ask (pay,handsomely) them to get up in front of millions of people and croak through nodule-ridden vocal cords one of the more challenging vocal melody lines in existence. All the while, the audience sits in bewildered SILENCE trying to figure out what the holy heck is he/she actually singing.

I have an idea... (TM)

Lets get a good orchestra or an organist playing a BIG organ or even a rock band to play it with good rhythm, correct meter, and at a breathable tempo.

Then lets all stand up in the stadium or the tavern or in our media room at home (but not in our cars) and SING TOGETHER OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM! Just think of the grand roar it would create. It would drown out the sound of the Twin Towers collapsing, or the heated (but, mind you, not personally influencing) rhetoric of our politicians. And for a few moments we can all rejoice together in being AMERICANS (without the qualifier-dash prefixes). And then lets be sure to sing the rest of the verses, too...

Would that send a message or what?

For those of you who are not familiar with the full set of words of the Anthem, they appear below. Take a moment to read and reflect...

******

VERSE 1:
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

VERSE 2:
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

VERSE 3:
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

VERSE 4:
Oh thus be it ever, when free men shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

******

The poem was set to the tune of a popular British drinking song, written by John Stafford Smith for the Anacreontic Society, a men's social club in London. "The Anacreontic Song" (or "To Anacreon in Heaven"), with various lyrics, was already popular in the United States. Accompanying Key's poem and renamed "The Star-Spangled Banner", it became a well-known American patriotic song. With a range of one and a half octaves, it is known for being difficult to sing.

That being said, after the pre-game tedium let's raise the rafters with a spirited rendition of our great National Anthem*, and then in accordance with age-old tradition sit back with a cold one and quaff the health of the good ol' US of A!

Olivia

Jus' doin' the Charleston...



*Westminster Choir College alums, Valkyries ad lib!


Copyright 2011 Olivia Margaret Ontko

MENTORS

If we are fortunate enough, we find or are found by special people who help us along on our journey. I wish to acknowledge my very special people...

* * *

When in prep school in Bronxville NY, I wanted desperately to study the organ, but the powers that be refused me. So, after doing my research, I rode the train into Manhattan, took the subway uptown, walked into the Church of the Heavenly Rest, and said to Charles Dodsley Walker "teach me".

And for almost four years, every other week, we had a lesson filled wih challenge, imagination, and lots of creative music making. None of this "do what I say because I said it" bumf. Listen, challenge, think, explore, listen.

Thank you, Charles. I'm still listening...

* * *

After I graduated from Westminster Choir Collge, and had worked for one or two organ builders, I found myself unemployed. A friend said I should call this fellow who went around voicing organs. And so I made contact with Allan Van Zoeren, which led to five years of going around and voicing organs and learning. Allan was a true master of the American/Dutch neo-classic style. His organs were clean and clear, precisely balanced, and never screamed.

I asked him early on how I could learn about tonal matters. He replied: "When you hear a stop that you like, go find out why you like it. Look at the pipes, measure them. Listen to them. They will tell you. And if you hear a stop that you truly dislike, go find out why..."

Thank you, Allan. I am still finding out why...

* * *

I had heard about him when I younger, and his name was Walter then. Switched On Bach was his entree to fame. Then I heard that he was really she: "Walter" had been a way to "make it" in what then was a man's world. The image stuck with me and I secretly admired her. I actually wrote to her once, and she actually responded.

When I decided to reveal my true self, I thought of her audacity and it helped to sustain me.

Thank you, Wendy Carlos, for your inspiration and courage. I still draw on your example every day...

* * *

Without these special people I would not be what I am today.

I hope I can do for someone what each of you have done for me.


Olivia

The Beaches are awry with no sound of music

It was recently published in Charleston's newpaper that the neighboring municipality of Sullivan's Island has enacted an ordinance to ban all sorts of noise . . . including singing? Yes, Virginia, no Singing in the Rain. Or in the Sun. Or in your home or office.


Knock Knock

"Yes, Officer?"

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Reverend, but I have to give you a ticket for all the noise you permitted to occur in your church last night. Let's see: loud singing, ringing of small bells, other loud and disturbing noises in the parking lot. And those loud bells in the tower at midnight. . . "

"But Officer. It was Christmas Eve Midnight Mass."

"Sorry, Reverend. See you in Court."

The report in the Post and Courier says:

"Sullivans Island Town Council approved an ordinance last week that added singing, whistling, hooting and hollering on public streets to a list of possible disturbing noises.

"Sullivans Island code already prohibits crying, calling, shouting, whistling, rattling, using a bell, gong, clapper, horn or hammer, drum or making about any other loud noise imaginable."

And the public comments have already started . . .

"I guess getting vocal during sex is outlawed also? "

"LOL!! Hey- when you jump into the ocean, you BETTER NOT MAKE A SPLASH! Don't allow the water to ripple and please don't ever talk out loud during the remaining open hours. We don't want to wake up the town council while they sleep in session."

And what will happen if the Spoleto Festival decides to have an event onthe Island? Will they take Westminster Choir away in handcuffs? And what about singing teachers? Will they be run out of town on a Grand Staff feathered with hemidemisemiquavers?

The mind boggles. What ever became of common courtesy, much less common sense? As usual, the irresponsible and unthinking few cause trouble for the rest of us.

". . . I'll know that I'm on the street where you live!"

"Hey, Bubba, you can't sing that there here . . . You have the right to remain silent . . . "

Just my thoughts...

Olivia

The Charleston Lawyer's Chorus, which usually contributes an excerpt from the rock opera "Runaround? Sue!" has decided to stand mute...

Transition - One Year down and a Lifetime to go . . .

My dear readers:

It has been a little more than a year since I stood up in front of my Westminster Choir College classmates at our 40th reunion, and stated: "Well, there have been a few changes..."

Little did I realise at that time that the changes were only beginning...

First of all, for those of you who are new to these ramblings, transition is not a matter of what clothing one wears, or how one walks and talks, or even of what's been added or subtracted...

It is more a change in one's thinking, for women and men are not just from different planets, they are from different universes. It is a change in how one best reflects one's soul.

One woman who went through mid-life transition and lived to tell her tale likened it to a tornado. One day, without warning (even if you have been thinking about it for years), you wake up with sirens screaming in your head. This is The Day. You are ready for it.

Or so you think...

And then your whole world collapses as the Transition Twister tears apart your life, everything you have held dear for 30, 40, 50 years, and deposits it in itsy-bitsy little pieces in your front yard. Your friends desert you. Your enemies spread evil stories about you. You may lose your job, and you certainly lose may of your civil Rights. If you are especially unfortunate, you lose your family.

But wait! While you are surveying the aftermath, you notice that something is changed. Something is different in a big way. The air is now still, but breathtakingly fresh. It is clean and crystalline, as God intended it to be. What has happened?

For once in your life, in a way not granted to many people, you are at a point where you can start over totally free of other people's notions. You can remake yourself as you would have yourself be, not as someone else demands. It is an awesome prospect, with even more awesome responsibilities; for as of this day, you are become the only one responsible. You can't blame your kid brother, or Aunt Sally, or mean old Cousin Saunders. You can't say anymore "But that's what my parents taught me."

That day is your re-birth day and the first day of your new life, and you have to make the best of it because once you take that fateful step out the front door, you cannot ever go back.

I have had many bad experiences within this year, but the good experiences outweigh them. Let me tell you about just a few of them. Naturally, no names are divulged, as that won't do anyone any good

-----------------------------------------

- There is the church I have served for more than 30 years. When I told the Music Director, he said "I don't know about this. How on earth am I going to explain to my 85 year old Life Deacon that our organbuilder is now she instead of he?" Whatever he told the man must have worked, as I am still on board there.

- There is the church I served for 20 years. When told of my transition by the Music Director, the Rector, I am told, said: "It's time we had a new organ technician. Do it immediately." End of story.

- There is the man with whom I had been personal friends for more than 10 years who, when I told him, said "Well, you can't come here any longer. What will the neighbors think if I start entertaining a woman in the afternoons while my wife is at work?"

- There is the church where the Senior Minister advised me that a woman on the office staff complained about my using the Ladies Room. She wanted me to use the Men's Room "where I belonged..." Sez me: "And what if her husband and I happen to exit the Men's Room at about the same time?" She hasn't complained again...

- Then there is the client who, after receiving my Transition Letter, invited me into his office and fired me on the spot. And then he laughed and said that by my announcement of transgender status I am no longer eligible for protection against discrimination under Federal Statutes and he is going to take the opportunity to get rid of me.

And yes, he can legally do that. Illegal aliens have more legal protections against discrimination than I do. {psssst...support an inclusive ENDA}

- And there is the minister who used to be my client who won't even reply to my request to become a friend on Facebook.

I have learned now that the key phrase coming from a man, especially over the phone, is "I'll have to think about this..." And you KNOW that the second after he puts the phone down all thought of the matter had passed into oblivion, never to be raised up again.

- There is the ladyfriend who, after being told over an afternoon glass of Chardonnay, gave me a big hug, and said "This calls for champagne..."

- And then there is the Organist with whom I had worked for more than 10 years who now looks straight through me when I explain a technical problem and each time says "I will have to get a second opinion." As if I had suddenly become less than competent... And I am not even a blond...

- And furthermore, there is the man I have known for a while whose eyes keep straying downward to my chest while we are talking, He never used to do that before... Oh, and, by the way, the answer is "Yes."

- And there was the female TSA agent at the airport who looked at my boarding pass, then at my driver's license (with its photo of me with my very long hair and its big, annoying "M"), then at the boarding pass and again at the license...handed them back to me, said thank you, MA'AM and gave me a big thumbs-up.

-----------------------------------------

Each day has been a challenge. Each day has been an opportunity to discover the great richness of diversity in and on God's Earth. Each day has offered unimaginable blessings along with seemingly insurmountable challenges.

They say that when you transition, you find out who your true friends really are. I have many fine friends, and thank God each day for them. I hope that when the time comes, I can support them as freely and as well as they have supported me.


Where do I go from here?


Well, writing more in my blog for one. Composing more music for two. And taking more time to be with my friends.

There is one special lady who always has a tag line at the bottom of her emails, my favorite of which is:

"If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it"

I look forward to whatever God brings me to in this next year, knowing that I will be cared for by God and my friends.


Blessings...


Olivia