Sand hued, milky aqua, dusky blue ribbons of ripples placid yet expectant
for the oar dip the fin splash the skimming skip of a stone
Heavens and waters split gently by undulating green
Fir boughs held wide like welcoming arms bear blithe, feathery tenants
They chirp for no human audience singing praises to their Creator
Nothing like turning technology OFF to write poetry longhand, in a journal, by a tranquil summer lake. My family has tent camped at Interlochen State Park on Green Lake several times, enjoying evening concerts at Interlochen Arts Camp. My trumpet-playing husband attended the arts camp as a teen, providing him and his family a lifetime of good memories and a great, affordable, vacation destination spot.
(Indiana just passed an education resolution that children are no longer required to learn cursive in schools. They will be taught keyboarding instead. Yikes! I protest...On the Fourth of July, my family was admiring the elegant cursive on a facsimile of the Declaration of Independence. If children can't write cursive they won't be able to read it....thus whole generations will be cut off from reading the original documents upon which our country was founded. Let's brush up on cursive, teach it to our children, and never be too busy to write a little poetry!)
This "virtual choir" makes inspiring use of new technologies. "Lux Aurumque" means "light and gold," referring to Christ's Incarnation.
Three Saturdays ago, I approached the breakfast table to find a teen peering from my laptop screen with quirky, bug-eyed intensity. The boy was lip-synching to a pop song, and his act had been frozen mid-syllable.
"He's gone viral," explained my husband, handing over our town's newspaper. On the front, a nearly full-page photo displayed the same boy, a Freshman at the local high school who lip-synchs pop tunes into his computer webcam and posts them on his own Youtube channel. Going "viral," his videos have been viewed by upwards of 40 million people. Hometown kids sharing music on this scale? Unprecedented. Inspiring. Problematic. On the up side, new technologies allow talents to soar. Hitting headlines last week was 11-year-old Jackie Evancho, who first won acclaim on TV's America's Got Talent with Gounod's Ave Maria. Her album Dream with Me, released June 14, challenged rapper Eminem's Bad Meets Evil for #1 new album on Billboard's charts. Evancho came in second (beating Lady Gaga and Barry Manilow), with songs like A Mother's Prayer (performed with Susan Boyle), Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro and Handel'sOmbra Mai Fu, and more popular tunes like When You Wish Upon a Star. Evancho's a prodigy but something else helped her rocket to stardom -- people shared her talents through technology. For example, I learned about her from my mom, who showed me a recorded Evancho PBS special. I returned home to Google the girl's online videos, found her fan webpage, and am now sharing her music through Facebook, Twitter and blogging.
"Do not conform yourselves to this age," says Romans 12:2, "but be transformed by the renewal of your mind that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect." Many entertainers are renewing their minds, using technology to advantage and offering inspiring fare.
My oldest teen introduced me to Eric Whitaker's "Virtual Choir" (top of blog) and I showed her this upbeat Cajun band, L'Angelus (below). Innovative technologies can help us investigate new sounds, record and refine our own musical talents and spread great music exponentially. Sharing music, whether sacred or secular, classic or contemporary, can be an act of charity that brightens someone's day, uplifts their spirit, and introduces them to a new repertoire. How can we develop a wide-ranging love of music, and extend that to others -- both first-hand and effectively using technology?:
Stay informed about what's served up by pop culture, because it impacts friends, neighbors, and our children. A five-minute surf through Billboard hits and songs on iTunes will help you check contemporary music's pulse.
Engage in a lively exchange of good music via email, Facebook, Twitter, your own Youtube channel or blog.
Develop "favorites" lists with loved ones on Youtube, so they can easily access good videos.
If new technologies seem too complicated or off-putting, ask a friend in the know to show you how to use your computer, iPod, MP3 player, etc, in a better way.
Explore your heritage by doing online searches for ethnic music. My family enjoys Celtic and Cajun, which reflects our Irish and French background. Use this helpful search tip: In your address bar, type in http://ckuik.com/.....and then your search word. You'll be amazed by all the resources that appear
Make delving into music history with your family fun by exploring Youtube footage of stars like Caruso (who really did shatter glass with his voice), Louis Armstrong, Harry Chapin, Woody Guthrie (2012 marks his centennial celebration), and classical musicians like Isaac Perlman and Yo-Yo Ma.
Staying rooted in faith helps us yearn for purity and seek music that refines and expands us.
Surrounding ourselves and our children with the best of a wide range of fine music and literature, we develop a discerning taste.
Loving music begins at home. My classically-inclined father asked that rock be confined to our bedrooms to make for a more peaceful home. My Suzuki piano teacher mother immersed her family in Beethoven, Bach and Rachmaninoff, as well as lighter fare from old movie soundtracks and Broadway. My husband plays guitar and trumpet and I love to sing, so our three children explore a wide range of music, all playing instruments and/or singing in choirs.
Learning to play instruments leads us into a richer repertoire. If you played an instrument as a child but it's gathering dust in the attic, why not brush it off and start playing? Hopefully people around you will eagerly follow your progress.To ease someone into appreciating classical music, a humorous bridge to more serious listening could be viewing Victor Borge clips.
Formal music instruction is great, but it's also fun to approach music as play, trying new sounds and instruments such as recorder, tin whistle, harmonica and percussion.
Attending live music performances gets people excited in a range of good music. Free community and university concerts help build neighborhoods, and many university bands welcome adult musicians from their regions into their ranks.
Sharing excellent music, whether sacred or secular, classic or contemporary, is an act of charity, made easy by technology.
Now, back to my friendly neighborhood Youtube hero. He's proof of the flip side, the perils of online surfing. Seeing his videos launched me into this blog topic. Why? He was performing Billboard hits with lyrics so lewd I deleted them from my blog. The morning news team from Chicago's WGN television network visited this boy's bedroom to lip-synch with him and record labels are competing for this same privilege. Interviewed by journalists, flown to L.A. to appear on late night television shows and even toured abroad, this boy has parents who sound loving and supportive, and who say he can continue his celebrity gig as long as he gets his homework done.
This scenario seemed so surreal, it made me realize how out of touch I had become with pop rock. What is the average teen listening to these days? I streamed Billboard hits with lyrics on Youtube and it was like jumping into a salty pool of piranas. Three out of five top hits were rap songs with perverse and abusive sexual content and foul language. See this article by Mary Hassan for a graphic analysis of today's pop music scene: Music Messages: Destroying a Generation. At least 60% of parents don't realize their children have easy access to porn, says Catholic rock group Critical Mass out of Canada. See the above video for more interesting statistics.
It's no news flash that a huge disconnect can exist between parents and teens regarding technology and pop culture. When kids are plugged into ear buds, it's tough to gauge their musical tastes. And while parents work long hours to make the world go 'round, teens have privacy and freedom to easily delve into murky waters, accessing music and images that are far darker than what was once accepted as mainstream.
What seems new is the meteoric heights and influence quickly reached by digital music stars. One high school dropout recently rocketed onto Billboard charts and into the Guinness Book of World Records. Her concert last week in Tampa, Florida, drew a crowd of more than 12,000, from the ages of fourth grade through mid-40's, according to a Tampa paper. The first line in the article describing the event was "Sex still sells." The concert featured 15 costume changes and looked like a burlesque show. It's astonishing that parents take kids to see these shows.
As for the mainstreaming of lewd lyrics, "People who'd never do things mentioned in songs think it's ok to sing the words if they're set to catchy music," one of my teens mused. But the words we speak do reflect the state of our soul.
It's often said America's culture today was partly shaped by the musical groups of the 1960's. So what does the nature of pop groups today predict about America's moral landscape in the next 30 years? We can all have a say in how this scenario unfolds. Some kids disappear hours on end to have parties of one before computer webcams. Of course, even adults struggle with addictive computer behavior. Photo by E. Bartholomew
Pope Benedict XVI loves to play the piano, and in 2009 spoke about beautiful music as "a spiritual and therefore universal language." It's a way to bring "understanding and union between individuals and peoples. Music...accompanies all human experiences, from suffering to pleasure, from hatred to love, from sadness to joy, from death to life...It is...no coincidence that all civilisations have given importance and value to music in its various forms and expressions... great music almost naturally invites us to raise our minds and hearts to God in all situations of human existence, the joyful and the sad. Music can become prayer."
Serving inner city Brooklyn youth, Father Stan Fortuna turns rap into prayer. Of course, some musicians are more about earning six-digit royalties than making music prayer, so we have to use caution in the blogosphere. Here are a few reminders to help us be good gatekeepers regarding what floods into our homes:
Keep computers in public places within homes and enriched with protective software to help filter out the bad.
Devise reasonable guidelines for internet use and hours of access in your home. Kids (and adults!) easily become internet addicts, losing sleep and active lifestyles over solitary browsing. Those hours online slip away too easily. If either a child or spouse is spending too much computer time, tactfully address that issue.
Humbly point out rotten lyrics when we hear loved ones sing them. Print out lyrics and have people read them apart from the music if they insist messages really "aren't that bad."
Encourage kids to unplug from earbuds when we're in their presence. When children are on palm pilots or iPods while moms or dads are chatting on cell phones, seldom the twain do meet.
Avoid hypocrisy. Not all old or "classic" music is moral. Not all contemporary music is evil. The content of some operatic story lines and librettos would make the average person's hair stand on end. "It's all about informed consent," reflects my oldest teen. People need to be consciously aware of lyrics they're singing and consider whether they should be singing them, no matter the genre. It's really informed consumption, an intelligent approach.
Charitably insist that schools, dance studios, etc, keep music decent. A local dance teacher found new music for a recital number when a parent printed out and showed her the inappropriate lyrics of one piece.
Keeping updated on new technologies and using them wisely can be an adventure. How else might you connect with a Kenyan choir...(Notice how even this remote community wasn't put off by using technology!)...
... or, a fledgling composer from another state who began his own popular Youtube channel...
We just have to keep it all in balance and remember -- first-person contact trumps technology any day. Have suggestions as to how we can better use technology in our quest to spread excellent music? Let me know by leaving a comment. In the meanwhile, I'll sign off with another virtual choir video entitled "Sleep:" Good night and happy listening!
In late May, children finish their final flurry of field trips before summer, and adults long to burst bonds of office and household walls. Stargazing and Lake Walking By Marianna Bartholomew Lake Michigan is today as deep-hued and inviting as the Mediterranean The Planetarium bobs on its surface like a misplaced Pantheon I sit like some pith-chewing philosopher in my 30th-floor office perch my eyes turned to the shore Today is a business day But what means that to the resplendent turquoise waters the reeling gulls or to neck-craning school children gazing at the stars In my thoughts, I join them Orion, Cygnus the Swan then half-melted Milky Ways on the lawn with a peanut butter and jelly lunch The wind, the nostril-pinching sniff of alewives The crunching of city grass and candy bar wrappers underfoot A frisbee, crack! in the back laughter
Photo of Chicago's Adler Planetarium courtesy of Dee W.
on Yelp
And always, the beckoning of the blue and, if you pretend, pure lake water lapping like the sea Like the Mediterranean It's a magnet My computer is no competition I should be star-gazing and lake walking on this late May day. Okay, it originally read "late April day," but I adapted that last line for this post. I also have to chuckle at the "lake walking" bit. No, I'm not referring to walking on water, but beside it! I wrote this poem years ago as I was feeling tortured in nylons and heels, trapped in my glass office cage, overlooking an exquisitely beautiful Lake Michigan in spring. The Adler Planetarium really did look like it was "bobbing" on the waters. As I struggled to focus on my work, with an incredible, panoramic view laid out before me, I found myself with that surge of "Spring Fever" to cast it all aside and go play...to join those field tripping kids on the Planetarium lawn.
Anyway, milder, warmer days are bound to soon arrive, although I was wearing a winter coat last week, temperature highs are predicted for just 56 degrees for tomorrow, and vacillating cold and warm fronts are stirring up fierce weather.
I was finishing up this post when news came through of the devastating tornado that hit Joplin, Missouri. My heart and prayers go out to all those impacted by this horrific 2011 Tornado Season. I pray May closes out like a lamb and that no further lives might be lost to devastating storms.
From one of my 2005 journal entries: "Sweltering heat. Rotten wood, warped flooring and artificial altar flowers in old St. Catherine Church. Flies buzzing bowls of condiments at a near-empty food shack, the only 'diner' in town. A Main Street so empty of businesses it looks like a ghost town. Shacks like houses of cards along Bayou Teche.
Vivid memories remain of my visit to Arnaudville, Louisiana in 1992, when I visited Catholic Extension subsidized missionary Sister Mary Bordelon. Talk about hidden poor. In this Cajun town of about 1,400 people less than 50 miles north of the Gulf of Mexico, dwelled the 'River Rats.' On a sunny day 13 years ago I met them, and still shudder that some locals likened fellow townsfolk to rodents. So-called 'River Rats' rented shacks along Bayou Teche, a spot romanticized by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in his poem 'Evangeline.' The reality I saw was three- or four-room homes weathered gray and roofed with corrugated tin, elbowing each other in a wobbly row, along a curbless, cinder road.
An image of Arcadia, from the reprinting of Evangeline, shown above.
'You want anything fixed, you do it yourself!' one resident told me, about how her landlord seldom dropped by. 'But when rent's due, you can bet he's here!' Outside, two children rode double on a bike. A teenager lounged against a doorway. A middle-aged man hunched on a lawn chair, nowhere to go and no way to get there.Then I met a 'hidden hero.' Amidst gray boards, cinders and bayou green, one screen door creaked open and a young woman named Cytina beckoned warmly, scarlet and blue ribbons flashing joyfully in her hair. Sister Mary and I stepped inside, and three was quickly a crowd in the shoebox-sized living room. Sweat beaded our foreheads as we chatted. Furnishings were spare: a sagging couch, a table, an old dresser against one wall.Nearby hung pictures of three brothers who died fighting for America in Okinawa, Korea and Germany.From a side bedroom came gentle murmuring. There lay Cytina's elderly mother, suffering after a stroke. She prayed constantly, statues of the Blessed Mother and Sacred Heart nearby.
Population of Arnaudville, LA, July of 2009 was 1,401. Estimated median household income averaged $21,204.
At 28, Cytina was like a glowing ember amidst a spent campfire. She leaned forward eagerly when Sister Mary told her a new choir was forming at church. She clutched a novena book and spoke of getting more involved at the parish. Her eyes were deep and expressive. Her smile enlivened her pretty face. When she was a girl, doctors told her she had sickle cell anemia and might never live to be 21. Then a 'walkin' man' visited town, peddling 'blood-building' tonics to poor African-Americans. Cytina was convinced his tonic cured her. She blinked away tears and said, 'Here I am at 28! God must want me here. Now I want to be a nurse to help others.'
Intersection of Bayou Teche and the
Atchafalaya River. Photo by U.S. Army
Corps of Engineers.
It seemed a pipe-dream. After losing three babies and the break-up of her marriage, Cytina had returned to the poverty of her childhood home. Now her address made her an undesirable. In fact, a 'River Rat.' People in town ask why these people don't work, Sister Mary told me in her gentle voice. 'But they have no cars and no way to get anywhere.' Today I recall those words as hurricanes rampage through the Gulf Coast. Evacuate? For the poor, mobility is a luxury. 'With how the world's going, I am praying more,' Cytina told me thirteen years ago. 'I want to help make things better.' At 41, does this bright-eyed woman still dream of helping others? Or have cruel winds of circumstance and nature dimmed the light in those eyes? 'With how the world's going...' Sometimes it keeps me up at night...all the Cytinas hidden along all the bayous and cinder roads of the Gulf Coast. Countless hidden heroes are struggling to weather yet another misery, in already stressed lives. People are strangers until you're introduced. Sister Mary introduced me and now a piece of my heart has been buffeted by the winds of the 2005 hurricane season.At night in my comfortable bed in suburban Chicago I wonder, where is Cytina now? Dear God, where and how are all the Cytinas?"
Sent by EXTENSION Magazine to Cajun territory, I saw pristine grounds, and an innovative and gracious approach to learning at Grand Coteau's historic Academy of the Sacred Heart, founded in 1821. I toured New Orleans' French Quarter, and boarded a fishing vessel for a shrimp fleet blessing. I was hosted for dinner by a family whose gorgeous home rivaled those found in any upscale suburb. But I also was privileged to visit with the hidden poor on remote crawfish farms, within the Atchafalaya Swamp, and along the banks of Bayou Teche. "Poor" is such a relative term. I was captivated by these people's rich faith and culture, strong family and community ties, their warmth and humor.
Different faces of those I had met haunted me at night after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. I worried over their possible fates. I wrote the above reflection about Cytina and Sister Mary Bordelon in my journal, then asked colleagues at The Catholic Church Extension Society if they would like to use it in some way (I was freelancing for Extension Society at the time). They offered the piece on Extension's web page under its "Hidden Heroes" section.
I later learned that Arnaudville is on high ground, so escaped catastrophic flooding. But the Cytina I met there, stranded without a car or job and with an ailing mother, represents to me countless hidden poor throughout the region. Click on this link to see the stretch of homes I visited where Cytina lived: http://www.catholicextension.org/bordelon/. The photo was taken during my visit to Arnaudville in 1992.
Today, Arnaudville's described online as a "great little town to raise children," and a charming place with lush trees and quaint shops. One of the oldest remaining towns in St. Landry Parish (settled late 1700's), it serves up a thriving Cajun culture, let loose in gatherings like the Etouffee Festival, held each April. After Hurricane Katrina, the town opened its arms to artists and musicians who needed a new cultural home, so a revival was sparked. A new cultural arts center established there in 2005 was attracting visitors from around the world, until it burned down four years later. Residents are determined to rebuild, an uphill battle since many struggle financially. With Lafayette just 14 miles away, jobs are to be found in factories, retail, and health care, for those who have a car and can afford the gas. But I can't even imagine the impact high gas prices are having upon this population. In 2009, more than 23% of Arnaudville residents fell beneath the poverty level.
Tonight, Louisiana is again suffering, as 3,000 square miles of farms are flooded by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to try to divert worse flooding from more populous cities like Baton Rouge and New Orleans. People of Louisiana, you have had much to bear. I remember one crawfish farmer telling me about Cajuns' infectious "Joie de vivre." May you never lose your joy.
Investigative journalists should aspire to
shed light in the darkness.
I had a dinosaur moment two days ago, when the way I learned and lived my chosen profession of 20-plus years was described as nearly extinct -- or, at least, on the endangered species list.
Jennifer Lahl, Producer of the award-winning documentary Eggsploitation was describing on Relevant Radio (950 AM WNTD, Chicago) her research into the practice of targeting female college students for egg harvesting.
On college campuses across our nation, ads promise young women thousands of dollars for contributing their eggs to fertility clinics. Women with high SAT scores and the "right" color skin are a hot ticket item for this industry.
Lahl, President of the Center for Bioethics and Culture Network, suspected a scam. Some ads offer upwards of $100,000 for egg harvesting. There had to be a catch.
Thankfully, Lahl wouldn't let the matter rest, and did some good, old-fashioned investigative journalism. She found female donors had suffered horrific side effects after undergoing ovarian hyperstimulation procedures used in egg harvesting. Many of these young women, sacrificing their bodies for profit (often to earn funds for repaying student loans), became permanently infertile. Others suffered strokes, comas and even death. Lahl publicized her findings in a documentary awarded "Best Documentary" this year at the 13th Annual California Independent Film Festival.
Relevant Radio asked Lahl how such abuses could persist and why this story wasn't covered by media.
This is where references to journalism came to the fore, and I perked up my ears even further. In the old days, reasoned Lahl, more investigative journalists dug deeply for stories. She described our modern era of pared down staffs and budgets. Desk journalism prevails, where stories for broadcast and print media are churned out at a frenetic pace. Imagine the scenario: some helter skelter browsing on the internet, a few phone calls, and voila, another deadline met.
With such an approach, many stories begging to be told are slipping through cracks. If the public remains ignorant of certain inhumane conditions and injustices, won't more injustices flourish? On the flip side, many an inspiring development will go unreported, if no one is taking time to glean the details.
Nothing beats getting out there in the world to chase down stories first-hand and in-depth. Every time I've ever left my desk for this purpose, I've returned with renewed passion and greater insights about the topic, and enough material to generate several articles. The whole, unadulterated truth is always so much richer than initial perception.
Thank heavens, good investigative journalism conducted out "in the field" is not yet extinct, even if it is, in some ways, tottering on weakened limbs. Foreign and war correspondents, and those heading into disaster areas, are still active and unfathomably brave. Both secular and religious journalists still venture into the unknown, and are kidnapped, harassed, beaten and killed, all in the line of duty.
"An investigative journalist is a man or woman whose profession it is to discover the truth and to identify lapses from it..."(De Burgh, Wikipedia)
These people are heroes, providing a vital service at a time when synthetic pursuits of reality abound. At their best, when they are anchored in truth and fleeing fabrication, journalists help us never lose sight of "The Real." They stir us to stay informed and get involved in everything from charitable causes and a deeper faith pursuit to politics and community life.
In my own life as a writer, I've had to learn to be flexible to survive and produce. Digging out stories has taken me into every possible setting: from the cardinal's mansion in Chicago to interview the late Cardinal Bernardin and St. Peter's Basilica in Rome to grasp the hand of Blessed John Paul II (I did not interview him, but was in a special audience), to an abandoned shell of a building in the mill town of Lawrence, Massachusetts, where I viewed remains of a dog sacrificed in a satanic ritual.
The pursuit of a good story has taken me to awards dinners and Indian powwows, Cajun shrimp fleet blessings and soup kitchens. It's been a real life of, well, living! Being blessed to have these experiences and share them with others through the written word has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
The media has "an enormous positive potential for promoting sound human and family values, and thus contributing to the renewal of society."
-- Blessed John Paul II, on The Media and the Family: A Risk and a Richness, written for 2004 World Communications Day, January 24, 2004
Heaven knows, journalists don't go into the profession for money. They feel commissioned. And the world needs dedicated, ethical, talented, investigative journalists. Thanks to Lahl's investigations, the egg-harvesting industry must be shivering a bit in its boots. Her documentary is showing on law school campuses such as Harvard, Fordham and Yale, in other community venues across the nation, and even overseas. Informed women are being spared the horrific consequences of having their bodies invaded and their fertility destroyed.
What other darkness is out there, waiting to be brought to light?
As readers and viewers of media, we should not be content with hastily written blogs and tweets. We deserve and should demand meaty, fully-researched stories. And every one of us needs to become investigators and pursuers of Truth in all its fullness, no matter our professions.
I heard something amusing two nights ago at the library. A father was chatting with his two young children about too much screen time.
"For every one minute you spend watching Phineus and Ferb on television," he said, "you get ten minutes dumber!"
Humorous approach, with underlying truth. Thank heavens for the internet and its vast resources. I wouldn't want to do without it. However, journalists should do their initial research, then be free to leave the comfort of their cubbyholes and screens to venture forth and do some vigorous, face-to-face, investigative digging.
But people of every age and profession must also push those screens aside and get out into the world. We should remember each day to investigate. Explore. And return to loved ones to report.
How incredibly valuable to go on location, into whatever wide variety of settings Providence calls us, to dig for the Truth of it all.
