Once again, a day has come that bandsfolk in the United States do well to commemorate. A bit of a pun, March Fourth associates in some communities and in some times with John Philip Sousa, the March King, long-time conductor of the US Marine Corps Band and composer most notably–though hardly exclusively–of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” The eponym of a prominent bandhall, of a bridge, of a marching instrument in wide use, and of what is often considered the highest award that can be given to a high-school bandsperson, Sousa continues to exert influence on the musical culture of the United States and on the broader culture enfolding the same.

It is a small thing, to be sure. I do not have the numbers ready to hand, but I’d wager that current and former bandsfolk are in the minority here. (My experience is skewed by having been a bandsman from a family of bandsfolk and by passing that tradition forward; Ms. 8 is a tubist and an award-winning one already.) Bandsfolk are not prominently represented in popular culture; bands are present, sure, but they rarely appear as central groups, their members as central characters. (There are exceptions, I know; Mr. Holland’s Opus and Drumline come to mind, dating me, and The Music Man also suggests itself. But two movies and a musical out of thousands of each…) They are part of the background of the world, as music itself often is, and this does lead to some tendency towards disdain for them. (Again, there are exceptions. I am aware of this. I am also aware of what the word “tendency” means.)

As often, though, I might refer to things many others have stated more eloquently than I: remove music, even as background, from the world, and it is far less good a place. For there to be music, there must be musicians–even in an era prone to AI slop and “good enough.” And for musicians to be, there must be the structures that allow them to be; there must be those who study and teach the making of music, and there must be time and space for the development of the skills and muscle memory–because the performance of music is a thing of muscles–that allow enough proficiency that the notes can be known and hit, again and again.

On this day, as much else goes on in the world, no little of it worth mourning, it might be well to reflect on such things and to work towards an existence that does more to promote them than to offer yet more over which to sorrow. Those who are grieving have their right to do so; I do not say that they should not. But those who are not grieving might find good use for their thoughts in such things. And perhaps both might well be done, there being elegies and requia and dirges aplenty.

There are worse things for which to wind a horn.

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Today is, of course, the anniversary of the declaration at Washington-on-the-Brazos of the independence of the Republic of Texas from Mexico. It is something I acknowledge, of course, and not only because it is good for me as a professional to do so as a signification of my participation in the broader community of this state (despite not being a native, which disqualifies me from being a “True” Texan). Despite the many negative stereotypes about the state and its people–and there are reasons the stereotypes exist–I do continue to claim my Texanness, to assert that I am and belong here.

And why should I not? I have lived more years than not in the Hill Country; it’s where I grew up, it’s where my family is, it’s where my name is on the walls and where it remains spoken. It is where I have worked these many years, and it is where the work I do conduces to the health of the broader community, including children, the indigent, business leaders, and visitors in and out of season. It is where I have put down roots once again and from where I picked them up a time or two. And while there are problems to be found in it, as there are in all places, there is also much good, and if it is to our discredit that the bad is often elided or ignored, it would very much be to our discredit were we to set aside the good that is (and for nerd communities, no less; Texas has given rise to no few artists in several genres on whose work much hangs).

At its best, Texas–like many other places, to be sure–is a promise and an endorsement. Nobody is always at their best; I certainly am not, and I do not think it would befit for me to expect the state of which I am a part to be such if none of us who live here can claim to be so. But, damn it, I and others try, and even trying, we can do a damned lot of good.

(Just so you know, I’m not abandoning the Robin Hobb reread; it’ll resume next week. Too, yes, I know this posted later than usual. It was busy. But I didn’t forget.)

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Here again, I find myself thinking about a national observance in the United States and thinking back about what I have said about it before. (I do that a lot, as those who have read me at any length can attest. One of the better things about such informal publication as I get to have is that I have the luxury of building on ideas over time, something that more formal venues do not always allow or encourage.) There’s been a lot of change in the year since I wrote on the topic, so much that it’s often hard to track; even the more limited set of changes that I address in my primary line of work take a lot of doing to keep abreast of, and I rarely have time to look much further afield than that.

Some of that, of course, may be ascribed to my personal limitations. I am the man I am, trained as I have been trained and scrambling to adapt to what presents itself to me, both in the day job and outside it; there are things at which I know to look and things I don’t know I need to look at, even if they do bear in on me. I’m not disclaiming my responsibilities in this; I acknowledge my limitations.

That much noted, I find myself once again of mixed mind regarding the observance. It’s not just this observance, of course; I have a long-running unease with such things, being not much of a celebratory person. While it is the case that I do have an appreciation for ceremony and pageantry, it is also the case that I like to watch it from a distance rather than to be immersed in it; I’d rather quietly observe than participate. (I suppose so much is true for a lot of things in my life, for better or worse.) At present, I am in the middle of my busy season; that I am makes it hard to pay attention to things that are not right in front of me. (There is some wiggle room in “in front of me,” as might be imagined. But some isn’t a whole lot, and it’s certainly not all.) At most, this time, there’s a slight variation in the course of my week due to the federal holiday; things being closed that are does force some adaptation. But it’s only some; for the most part, I have to go on like it’s any other day.

I doubt I’m the only one for whom so much is true.

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As might be expected after more than a decade of writing in this webspace, I’ve commented a few times before on today’s observance in the US. (I probably ought to have done so more times than I did, to be honest.) Still a federal holiday dedicated to the legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the observance still implies that the United States is still working towards the realization of the ideals he espoused. It is still the case that I am not the person best-positioned to comment about any of it, even though I do feel some obligation to mark the observance. And it is still the case that I–and many others, but I have no say over their actions, only mine–have not done enough to make things better.

That there is still much to do should be clear. Whether or not there is an “enough” is less so; I tend to think there is not, since it will be “enough” only when all is right, and I doubt I will live to see such a thing, if it ever comes to pass. (I’ve known a few people who would make the case that my living to see it necessarily means it hasn’t come. I’ve mellowed out in my old age, but I’ve not always been the mild and pleasant person I now am; there’ve been people as have professed their hatred of me to me, in voice and in writing. I really ought to have kept some of the latter.) But that’s my viewpoint, not all of which emerges from reason; others’ results may well vary.

What there is to do, for me and for others, is relatively clear, even if present circumstances make its achievement difficult. I know that, given what I have to do on the small scale at which I operate, doing more would be a challenge; I would have to let go of things I want to hold to open my hands such that I could do the work that needs doing (and the verse suggests itself to me: I would have to / Let go of things / I want to hold to / Open my hands / Such that I could / Do the work that needs doing; I don’t know why it does, now.) Doing so would doubtlessly lessen my already-little effectiveness at doing what needs doing on larger scales; how much, I probably overestimate.

I try not to overestimate myself. Though I do well the things I do well, I know that there are others who do more things better than I (and others who are seen to do so, whether rightly or not). To think that I, alone, might accomplish something substantial in such line as King sought is…excessive. Even he did not, being one among many who did such labor. I am not so much a one as he, as I note; what I can do, I do, knowing it is little and not enough.

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Today is not the first time I’ve posted on this calendar date–9 January–in this webspace; a couple of years ago, I posted something of a hopping piece at this time of year, after all. Nor yet is it the only time I’ll have marked what is, for me, the significance of the day; that, I’ve done at least thrice in this webspace. The last of those is probably the most relevant, being the one that most directly addresses what I would mention now: today marks sixteen years I’ve been a married man, and all of them to the same most excellent woman.

It was a cold day in the Texas Hill Country, I remember, a reminder that winter touches even the limestone stage where Aestas enjoys long residence. But it was a good day, one of the best that I’ve had, and one that made all of the better days that followed possible. (I think I may be forgiven some sentimentality about the matter, especially since the statement is accurate; I have only gotten to where I am because I have had the support of my most excellent wife, and there have been times when the fact of our public solemnization of our relationship has maintained it.)

Someday, perhaps, I will write here a fuller account of the day. For now, it will be enough to say: Happy Anniversary, my beloved, and I hope for many more anniversaries with you!

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This is not the first time I’ve had a post emerge into this webspace on this calendar date; I’ve done it before in 2018 and 2021. While I do comment about the end of the calendar year, I have tended to leave retrospection to my anniversary posts, 17 June of each year since I got started in this webspace. (I have another one of those stubbed out, in fact, something reasonably easy to do given the commonality of those posts. It works well enough for me, really.) I don’t know that I’m going to do much different this time around, really; it’s enough to look back at what I’ve written this calendar year to get an idea of how it went for me.

What seems more fitting than looking back is looking forward. There are things I mean to do in this webspace, and there are things I will doubtlessly attempt that I don’t yet realize I’ll try. As to the former:

• The Robin Hobb Rereading Series will continue. So will the Fedwren Project, even if I can’t work on it quite as regularly as I can the Rereading. The two are more or less why I pivoted from my earlier “professional” webspace to this one. I’ll press on as I can with them.
• I mean to try my hand at NaPoWriMo again. I didn’t think when I started it this year that I’d do it; I rather backed into it, honestly. As I noted after it was over, however, I think I’ll approach it with a format and a theme in mind. I wonder if I might open up selection of each to my readers, putting up some kind of poll for it. Perhaps that might be something I offer as a premium perk for those who want to contribute to my bad habits writerly endeavors. Perhaps I ought to make such support more formal…
• I’ve racked up quite a few scholarly somedays, not only in the Hobb reread, but also in some other places. I really should address some of them. I do still do some academic conference work, after all, and it is also helpful to have longer-form material for this webspace. It serves as something of a writing portfolio for me, after all, and the variety is a useful thing to display.
• I’ve had occasion to pick up my horn again. It will need some repair soon; it’s simply part of an embodied existence that maintenance is required. But it has been good to get music back under my fingers. I’ll doubtlessly have some things to say about it.
• Similarly, I’m still working out, if perhaps not as much as I really should. I mean to continue doing so; I expect I’ll write about it, too.

Again, I can’t completely predict the year, even if I can express some hope for it. (I have to express some hope for it. The other way…isn’t helpful.) There’ll be other stuff emerge, I’m sure, but I look forward to seeing it, and I look forward to having my dear readers come along with me as I do.

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For a few years, now, I’ve made a point of making some comment or another at this point in the year, remarking about the USian practice of engaging in a lot of buying on the day following Thanksgiving. The comments have varied in length and form, ranging from pompous prose to some alliterative verse I think I did decently. In that, I suppose they’re representative of my writing. I get prolix, I know, and I do still enjoy compiling verses, even if I haven’t been doing nearly as much of it lately as I might like. (Between work and having been sick recently, I haven’t had the energy to give to it, which I lament.) They’re perhaps more acerbic than average for me, but I do get…on…about more than a few things, so maybe that’s not really the case.

I had meant to continue the “tradition” (how “traditional” something can be that one guy does for a few years, I’m not certain) with this entry into this webspace, finding something else about which to gripe at some length. But I really don’t have it this time around. To my understanding, it’s simply not as big a deal anymore as it used to be. A lot of things aren’t, honestly. While some of my outside engagement has me involved in holiday festivities, those don’t seem to be attracting as much attention and demanding as much engagement as they previously did. Perhaps I am projecting, and I’ll admit that may not be the best thing, but it seems there is more apathy afoot. It could just be me, but I don’t think it is; what I see suggests as much, although, here as elsewhere, I’ll admit that my experience is probably not entirely representative. Even so, I’m subjected to advertisements like anyone else, and there seem fewer for holiday stuff than I remember.

What to make of all of it, I have no real idea. I don’t necessarily trust my own perceptions on the matter; as noted, I’ve been taken up with other things for a while, so it’s possible it’s all going on as normal and I’m just not looking at where it is. It may be that there is increasing recognition of the…disjunctions I’ve noted on occasion. It might be that the prevalence of consumption culture means there is no effective difference between the day before Thanksgiving and the day after in terms of how much and what people want to buy; being able to get things delivered in a day makes waiting for a holiday less an issue, I think. It’s also possible that it’s simply a matter of people having less money to spend–and everybody knowing it; no point spending money to bring in customers who aren’t, after all.

Of course, there’s irony in my saying that last, since I would like to have some more work coming in…

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Once again, the time has come for me to wax loquacious on the subject of work. I did it last year at around this time, just as I’d done in the preceding years, and there’s no reason for me not to do so this time around. As it happens, I’m actually in the same lines of work this year as last, which is nice; not having to retrain for a new job all of a sudden is a good thing, and getting better at a job held for a while is a better one.

As far as that job goes, things are better. I know more about the work I do, I do more of it, and word has spread and is spreading in the community that I have at least some idea what all I’m doing. I’m glad of that much, to be sure. I am still well aware, however, that the work I do is less work than the work a lot of other people do. For the most part, I plug away on my own in an office space, communicating with clients through email and making my workspace more or less commodious to myself. I don’t have to be on a sales floor listening to customers complain about things that they did wrong and now have to pay for; I don’t have to be out in the Texas Hill Country summer sweating and struggling. It’s an inside job with minimal heavy lifting, so how fitting it is that I should take the day off–and I did take the day off, more or less–is an open question.

Admittedly, given that my work is what it is and that most of those with whom I would have to conduct business are themselves closed, it makes sense that I would save on the utility costs associated with my being in the office. Since my wife and daughter are also both off from work and school, for much the same reasons, it makes sense that I would take the chance to spend time with them–which I am, and happily. And I am minded of some old wisdom that bids each and every one of us to take every opportunity to rest that presents itself.

So much said, I still find myself somewhat ill at ease with taking for myself a holiday intended to honor the laborers that have made this place. I am not among them, not anymore, although I yet rely upon them, as do many. What right do I, who do so little, have to be at ease, especially when many who work are even now at work–and some at work doing things because I have bidden them be done? At the same time, what good would it do for me to work now, to be at work now? Would my setting to the tasks that await me–and there are some of those, certainly–somehow ennoble me?

I do not know, and that uncertainty bothers me for several reasons. It’s the kind of thing that pervades my thoughts, not just today but on many holidays and observances. I try to set such things aside and enjoy what opportunities do present themselves…but there’s always the nagging voice in the back of my head, just loud enough that I can’t quite ignore it…

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