Rain

We've had rain for several days now, not torrential, but you wouldn't mistake it for mist. Today, though, it's been raining hard and steadily since noon or so. I walked to campus around 3, and back home at 5, and the gutters were running, no, gushing. I opened my back door just now to check whether it's still coming down (it is), and everything seems to be gurgling.

I know some folks are beginning to chafe at the lack of sunshine, but personally, I like this stuff a lot. Good thing, as it's forecast to keep at it through the weekend and maybe beyond.

And another thing!

Met my friend Phil Gross for coffee at Peet's yesterday morning. We don't see each other too often these days, but the gaps in chronological time are never replicated in our conversations, which seem to take off from the same place we left them when last we met.

Talking with Phil is like talking with no one else. He's witty, quirky, passionate, opinionated as hell, caring, clever, and just damned fun, not to mention possessed of enormous talent. So we talked Macs, politics (how W manages every day to make our lives less plesasant, our hopes for the presidential election and whether Barack or Hillary would be better for the country and which one inspired us more), baseball (the Giants chances in '08, whether Barry Bonds is finished as a ballplayer, the merits and demerits of the DH, and whither Pedro Feliz), and basketball (the Kings; I'm not a basketball fan, but hearing Phil describe their style of play and their gelling as a team was almost like having a courtside seat). There may have been other topics glanced upon, but those were the highlights.

We occasionally disagree—I'm nearly as (he would say much more) opinionated than Phil—especially about baseball, hardly ever about politics, but it's wonderful conversation. We could have a television show; we'd call it "And Another Thing!" We'd never get sponsors, but our friends would get a laugh.

Here's Phil . . . a self-potrait:

Tra-la-la-ing

Tonight was the Woodland Chamber Singers' first rehearsal for the spring concert, in May. I sang with this group a couple of seasons ago and really enjoyed it, so I'm back again. I don't have a great voice; my range is hopelessly narrow and there's not a lot of resonance, but I can carry a tune, and—a real dividend—I can sightread (the only residual benefit of my days playing the clarinet in jr high and high school). Lucky for me, there's no audition—just show up and be willing to learn the music.

I'm definitely out of practice. But if this time around is anything like a couple of years ago, my vocal cords and my breath should start to improve fairly soon. And the music the director has chosen is inspiring; the spring concert is called "American Tapestry," everything from "Polly Wolly Doodle" to "Blowin' in the Wind," with side excursions into "Gimme That Old-time Religion" and a whole lot of other good stuff. Great arrangements, too.

Dr. King goes to kindergarten

I asked my 5-year-old granddaughter if she knew why today is a holiday.

"It's Martin Luther King Day," Courtney said.

Tell me about him, I said.

"He had brown skin and black hair."

And why do we have a special day for him?

"He was a leader, and he died."

Her 7-year-old sister added that Dr. King let all kids go to the same school. And that when she and her classmates made cut-paper portraits of him, she was the only one who made his eyes small, like they really were. "All the rest of the kids made his eyes REALLY big, but they were small!"

Nice to know my grandchildren have an appreciation for detail.