Dr. Metablog

Nang Yai

Nang yai is an intriguing form of Siamese drama, a shadow play with puppets, which, unfortunately, I have never seen performed -- in fact, never been to Thailand, alas, or anywhere else in that part of the world.

The "puppets" are large, almost three-quarters life-size, made of painted buffalo hide. A story, drawn from the Ramayana, is told by means of songs, chants, music, and dance. "Nang Yai" simply means "large puppet." People who have studied Nang Yai have traced performances back to the 1400s. Nang Yai dramas would be performed before a large white cotton screen illuminated from behind by fire -- the puppets supported by bamboo poles.

The puppets themselves, one of which is illustrated above, are magnificent works of art. From what I can learn, the tradition of making Nang Yai puppets was almost extinct but has now been revived. Nowadays, and I imagine in the past, the hide of a young ox is bleached and cleaned to get rid of hairs and tissue. Then it is soaked in the juice of the lamphong tree, whatever the heck that is, and also in a tincture of lemon grass, pineapple, and orange, and finally darkened by rubbing with burnt coconut husk. The hide is carved with chisels, hammers, knives, and then painted. Here's a picture of a particularly complicated puppet.

Here's a picture of a Nang Yai museum in Thailand.  It's on my list of places to visit.

 

 

Words of my Life: "Worship"

There are some words which one might read, study, and parse the dictionary definition and yet still not understand -- words for which one has no intuitive or even rational conception. For example, there's the word "heaven." I know that "heaven" can mean "sky," a definition that poses no problem, but when "heaven" is presumed to refer to a place beyond the sky in which the souls of dead people are eternally rewarded, then I'm absolutely baffled. My brain empties out. "Heaven" in such a sense is to me incomprehensible and meaningless nonsense.

Another such word is "worship," a word which has always puzzled me, right from the start, when the church bells of St Rose of Lima would ring on a Sunday morning to call parishioners to mass, leaving me and my brothers to play stickball or punchball all by ourselves. I recognize that "worship" is a word to which communities of English speakers give assent, and I observe that people attend temples, mosques, and tabernacles to perform certain activities, such as kneeling, genuflecting, singing hymns and uttering hosannas. Nevertheless, I can't agree that such activities equal "worship" -- because "worship" presupposes that there is a entity to which these activities are directed. And that entity, like "heaven" in the religious sense, doesn't exist. Just as heaven is a non-existent place, so worship posits a non-existent entity. And therefore the word "worship" has no intelligible meaning, to me.

Perhaps I lack what Charlotte Bronte called an "organ of veneration." Or, alternatively, worshipers are engaged in mass delusion. 

On the other hand, I have an excellent grasp of the word "awe." In fact, I am a great practitioner of awe. I'm regularly "awed" by both the achievements of my fellow beings in art, architecture, music, literature, mathematics and science, and also by the majesty of nature, in the form of grand canyons and in the triumphs of evolution. Moreover, I've felt "awe," in cathedrals and once, in the Church of the Rock in Helsinki -- a magnificent building that melds human ingenuity with natural beauty, -- overwhelming, transcendent awe.  And I can understand that for some people what I identify as "awe" might translate into "worship."  But again, not me. Though I'm awed by Rembrandt and Bach, but I don't worship them or their works.  I'll stick with awe.

I may lack an "organ of veneration," but I have a highly developed organ of wonderment.

Update on "worship."  For the first time in my life, a few weeks ago, I attended a religious service. I was in New Orleans and friends suggested that I join them at Vespers at Trinity Episcopal Church on Jackson Avenue. The attraction was Ellis Marsalis, who was to play a few notes for the attendees. A priest or whatever he's called, said a few words, read a prayer, and then elderly, frail Mr. Marsalis sat down at the piano and improvised for a few minutes. It was beautiful and perhaps transcendent. I suppose it was a form of worship. And it didn't hurt a bit. 

Other words of my life:  slouch, cishet, yips, ramps, jot and tittle, worship, mucilage. spatchcock, umpire.

Shaya, Venezia

Many a restaurant in New Orleans; and many visited by us during our latest stay.

Two divergent experiences.  Shaya, and Venezia.

Shaya:

Slick, elegant, ultra-modern, carefully designed. Waitpersons stylishly costumed and coiffed. Well-trained. Reservations mandatory. Customers:  jacketed and tied, or on high heels. Price: whole wallet.

The place to go if you're looking for wood roasted Brussels sprouts with black harissa, tahini and sumac pickled onions. Or ikra made with paddlefish caviar and shallots. Or if you want your crispy halloumi with strawberries, mint and pistachio. Perhaps shakshoula made of tomato, Jerusalem artichokes, poached egg, chilies and chermoula. The roasted chicken is cooked with shawarma spices, heirloom carrots, and chickpea mujadara.  Etc. Very enjoyable experience.

Then there's Venezia. Not pronounced ven-ets-ia after the Italian style, but ven-ezh-a by local custom. Red-and-white checked tablecloths. Families, large and extended. Waitresses as wide as tall who call you "honey" or "dearie."  Sausages, peppers, spaghetti with tomato sauce, shellfish. Excellent pizza. Sorry, no picture available on website.  No website, actually. And, added bonus, Venezia is just down the street from famous historic Angelo Brocato (ice cream and pastries).

 

Guess at which restaurant I felt more at home.

 

New Orleans is a high contrast city where the Whole Foods sits directly adjacent to the Dollar General. Honest.

More Genealogical Information for my Grandchildren

Dear Asher, Caleb, Luke, Lola, Ella, Oliver, Talia:

These are pictures of your great-great-great-grandparents, Leib or Louis Hessel and Tsina Voloshen Hessel. They are the parents of Eta or Yetta Hessel, who married Isaiah Pearlman, your great-great grandfather, in StaryConstantine, Ukraine, sometime around 1895. I knew Eta, who died in 1962 when I was in my early 'twenties, although our conversations were limited because we did not share a common language.  According to my father, these pictures are copies of drawings executed by an itinerant Ukrainian artist. Drawn when? Perhaps 1870 or thereabouts.

I don't know much about these people. I have no idea what they did for a living or how long they lived. I see some family resemblance in Leib's small black eyes and abbreviated eyebrows, but otherwise, not much. What sort of hat is he wearing? Is Tsina wearing the wig of the orthodox or is that her real hair? 

He looks mild.  She looks determined.

I know that my grandmother Eta had a number of siblings. In my father's handwriting, I have a document that hints of two of them: a brother, Morris Hessel, who married Mary Greenberg and had a son, Paul and a grandson Merel;  and then a sister Malka, who married one Joseph Cohen and had a son, Saris, who was a high school principal in New York, and had a son Peter Cohen, a physician based in Denver. I wonder why my father kept so aloof from his aunts and uncles and cousins? Was there a story? They were not at all a part of our life. No visits, no family celebrations, nothing.

I once met my father's "Aunt Mary," who sold tickets at the Kent Theater on Coney Island Avenue. it must have been the only time I went to a movie with my father; he said, "This is my Aunt Mary."  I was perhaps 8 years old, and uncurious. That's the end of the story. I wish I had more to tell you. 

Report: Barron Trump Betrothed to Putin's Daughter Katerina Kabaeva

Numerous European websites are reporting that Barron Trump, the 12-year-old son of United States President Donald J. Trump, has been betrothed to Katerina Kabaeva, the 11-year-old daughter of Vladimir Putin and "first mistress" Alina Kabaeva.  

White House spokesman Sarah Huckabee Sanders refused to comment on the report. But another member of the Trump administration, who spoke under the condition that his name not be revealed, said that, "if the story is true, then it's a significant diplomatic coup for the United States and for the Trumps.  It would allow two great families, one Russian and one American, to link their fortunes. It's a significant step forward for Russian-American diplomatic relations. It could be the making of a dynasty."

It has also been reported that the betrothal agreement, negotiated by Trump lawyer Michael Cohen and former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson, calls for the transfer of somewhat more than a billion dollars from the Russian bank Vnesheconombank, or VEB, also known  as "Putin's bank," to Trump Industries. VEB has previously been known to be an important investor in Trump properties.  What the Trump family offered in exchange is as yet unknown. 

The rumor that the spelling of "Barron" Trump's name has been changed to "Baron" Trump has not been confirmed.

A date for the wedding has not been announced.

Status Report

A few days ago Vivian de St. Vrain aka Dr. Metablog began his last year as a septuagenarian. His next birthday, 80. Astonishing. Unbelievable. And kind of miraculous.

When I was boy, I thought that people of such an advanced age were very likely extra-terrestrials or possibly members of another species. I remember my ancient ancestors and relations as very small people, odd-smelling (chicken soup and mothballs), whose faces were covered with knobs, whelks and unsightly dark spots. As a group, they appeared to my youthful eyes as swollen, distorted, asymmetrical.   

But now, at this present age, I don't feel even the slightest bit extra-galactic. I feel like me. Except, of course, when I catch sight of my reflection in a shop window as I stroll the mall. Who is that white-haired guy?

Here's my status report at age 79. I'm healthy. All my organs might work a little slower, a little grumpier about doing their jobs, but none of them has crapped out completely. My joints are relatively supple, especially my knees. I have great knees. I experience muscle pains and muscle spasms occasionally, and my back is bad, but it's better than it was a decade or two ago, thanks to the surgery. I tire more easily and recover from fatigue more slowly. My memory is not as sharp as heretofore, but it's still pretty good, better than most. I'm learning a new language and I admit that I have to look up new words two or three times before they stick. Sometimes four or five times, truth be told. My capacity for abstract thinking, never strong, has definitely diminished, but my sense of humor is intact.

I'm not taking any medicines, except for an occasional sleeping pill. The bifocals and the lens implants are working just fine. So are the hearing aids. And the tooth implant is still firmly in place. The rest of me, I'm proud to say, is all original equipment.

On the whole, I'd say that I've come through some dark times and that I'm enjoying a personal renaissance. How long will it last? Impossible to predict. A day, a year, ten years?  But hey, I have love in my life. Children who are thriving. Lovely grandchildren.

I must acknowledge that at my age I could be growing something deadly and that the least little twinge could be an early sign of a fatal disease. And although nothing of that kind has happened yet, it's inevitable that something will happen. Life is term-limited and I've lost too many friends and relations to deny the obvious. I'm acutely aware that each day is precious. 

Corporations to Buy "Naming Rights" to Trump Wall

The White House announced today that "naming rights" to stretches of the Trump Wall across the southern U. S. border are up for sale.

Portions have been pre-sold. Among the corporations that will have their names in neon on the wall are Chick-Fil-A and Hobby Lobby. The largest single stretch has been claimed by Koch Industries, Inc. Together with its subsidiaries Invista, Georgia-Pacific, Molex, Flint Hills Resources, Koch Pipeline, Koch Fertilizer, Koch Minerals, Matador Cattle, and Guardian Industries, Koch will place signs on almost six hundred miles of wall. It is rumored that the National Rifle Association has contracted to name a large portion of the Texas barrier.

The White House did not say how much the corporations paid for the naming rights.  Charles Koch, in a rare interview, asserted that the cost was "a good buy.  But it's not about money," he added, "it's about patriotism."

Trump Industries has also claimed a few choices miles of the wall but has yet to make a payment.