Summer Solstice Sounds Of Muses

Rodgers had infinite talent -- but limited soul.Hammerstein had infinite soul – but limited talent.”-- Stephen Sondheim on his mentors

Benjamin Blaze was born on the longest day of the yearwhere it’s incandescently hot in Davis, CA listening to corngrow high as an elephant’s eye in the university student garden.

Per usual when we drove up to stay with my son’s family,on Ben’s third birthday the two of us woke early before 5:43 sunrisewhile pond frogs croaked, crickets chirped, his parents tried to sleep in.

This particular morning Coachie abracadabra pulled out and demonstratedhow to use a simple nutcracker brought north to crack open walnutswe’d picked from surrounding trees on a previous visit.

Of course, one backstory has to do with the elaborate soldier Nutcracker(now sadly broken) Bubbe bought him at a San Francisco SymphonyTchaikovsky performance the previous Christmas.

The current plan is to separate shells from the meat he’d mixinto our scrumptious pancake batter – just like locally-grown, personallyharvested black and straw and boysenberries added in the past.

A farm boy in training alongside a farm girl mama, he really enjoys hearingme belt out Oklahoma , which musical’s lyrics surprisingly had stucksince last sung 60 years ago with Mother who accompanied on the piano.

Although Benjie’d only met Mom once as a newborn at her centenarytwo years before she died, he always spoken warmly, referring to“Great Grandma Rhoda’s stool she gave me and used when she was little.”

Ending our celebration picnicking on the community commonsbefore setting off amazing Rocket Copter Slingshot LED technicolor flairsfollowing 8:35 sunset, we all cuddled then tucked boychick into bed.

Afterwards, I returned to an ongoing yawnfest project scavengingsixty years of LCohen’s discarded dross, looking for rare golden nuggetsof wheat winnowed amidst a depressing amount of chaff.

Apparently only post struggling for decades with dozens of false-startBlue Raincoat drafts, becoming newly maniacally laser-focused OCD -- accountssuggest a change-of-pace selfish, offensive artist –- that masterpiece took shape...

Evidently, Richard Rodgers was a creative genius able to knock out melodiesin minutes, but Oscar Hammerstein struggled to produce what I consider wonderful(if at times a bit schmaltzy or middlebrow) poetry --even at my humbler level

I learned to work hard to earn brief bursts of recognition, recommit effortrequired to sustain improvement plus proportionate public reward: still widelyif less prestigiously published, is this septuagenarian losing such ruthless energy?