MuseLetter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
Quote of the Month
Fireworks
There's the whump when they're fired, the rising sigh
they climb, then the stark thump by which they blow
their safes. The fire then shinnies down the sky
like so many dark spiders on glowing
filaments. As thanks for each bright lull, we
loft, not high and not for a long, a squadron
of soft, pleasing cries. Also we can secede
from this to skulk, to brood sullenly on
the jingo bells, the patriotic gore,
the shattering violence these airy
filibusters flatly mimic on the lake.
Soon we'll unclump and disperse to the dark.
We're home. Lights on. We brush our teeth. Then we
douse the lights and sleep loads its projector.
William Matthews
Fireworks (after Matisse)
mixed media by Ron Vazzano; 2011
The California Sun
Everlasting
ever in our faces
like some catechism lesson
as numbing a presence as its counterpoise would be
say, the constant trickle of a mindless rain.
That some would lay themselves bare
to a devil’s eye that sears the flesh—
fools that they may be for daring to adore
that which never asked for their love—
it’s the flowers who are the children of the sun.
Once, it carved out a phosphorescent river
that ran through the jungle of the bleakest soul.
Once, it ushered in the squire’s heart
to defeat any dragon that might lie in darkness;
adventures in the young man’s game
a rebirth in every young man’s summer.
We threw time at the beast of dying.
We turned to the sun at every turn
as if denying that the clock would ever run dry.
As if these tales would not one day be retold
in the lunar terrain of our faces.
A Few More, "By George"
What with July 4th being but a few days away, I can only imagine what those first fireworks might have been like in celebration of the birth of the nation earlier in the day. In actuality, there were no fireworks. That ritual wouldn't begin until July 4, 1777. And with the rediscovering of that fun fact regarding George Washington as described up above, I wonder what he might have been up to on Day One. Well, no surprise.
On July 4th, 1776, George Washington was in New York City, specifically in Manhattan, with his Continental Army troops. While the Continental Congress was in Philadelphia formally adopting the Declaration of Independence, Washington was focused on the looming British invasion of New York. His troops were preparing for a potential attack, and he was likely overseeing troop movements and strategic preparations. (Source: Google AI)
Yet at some point in the day, given an expense report he filed, he also found time for this:
On July 4, 1776, George Washington Bought A Broom
Source: NPR
He paid six pence for it. While the translation of 1776 pence into 2025 dollars is an intricate calculation at best, I came up with a possible figure of $17. Which sounds about right for a broom. Though an odd purchase, given the critical context in which it was made. With a "looming invasion" on the horizon? Were we going to sweep the British away? Which led to further curiosity about George and his expense account and the compensation that he was afforded in those war years.
When he became Commander in Chief of the Continental Army on June 19, 1775, at his request, he be given no salary. Just coverage for the expenses he would incur while in that position. For which he filed exacting and meticulous reports. Which in that eight-year war, according to national archives, totaled (including the broom) $160,074. Or...about $4,850,000 in today's dollars. Which seems like a steal given the end result. And when he bade his troops farewell at a dinner at Fraunces Tavern in New York on December 4, 1783, the tab came to 89 pounds and four schillings. That's about $22,000 in today's money. While there were 55 men at that dinner (at which a whole lot of alcoholic beverage was imbibed), we're talking $400 a head! But hey, he deserved it, no?
Within that spirit, a salute to George. And I might just drop by that tavern as I have on other such occasions, to raise a glass. And to all ...
JAWS Still Has Bite
The 20th of last month marked the 50th anniversary of the release of JAWS. A classic. For so many reasons, on and off the screen. Not the least of which is that it redefined how and when movies are released and marketed.
Summer was traditionally a down time for movie releases. But a whopping 67 million—over 30% of the American population back then—would have seen JAWS by that summer’s end. It is the first to have ever achieved the status of, what has since become a key element of the major studios' annual film release strategy, the "Summer Blockbuster." Its poster instantly became iconic and much parodied to this day.
The movie introduced a fear in our lives, that while statistically unfounded, has never quite gone away. That of sharks. I remember that summer as we drove to the beach in Nag’s Head, North Carolina, with that ubiquitous poster and TV spots firmly planted in mind—the two note ominous theme music, E-F, E-F, E-F—joking about the prospects of being attacked. But being wary all the same
as we inched into the ocean that day. The image of dangling legs in the water—a shark’s eye view within the movie—now firmly fixed in the mind’s eye throughout the day. A very Hitchcockian approach to creating a sense of foreboding and vulnerability. Kind of reminded me of Norman Bates looking through that peephole in the motel room, as Marion was undressing in preparing to take her last shower.
It all begins when a character named Chrissie goes skinny dipping in the ocean at night, to become the first victim of a gruesome attack by the unseen great white shark. If that scene was disturbing because it seemed so real, that’s because in a way, it was. Susan Backlinie, the actress/stuntwoman who played Chrissie (she died a year ago at age 77), was actually being tugged left and right by 10 men on one rope and 10 men on the other back to the shore. She has said that had to use all of her strength to keep from going under and potentially drowning. Spielberg called it one of the most dangerous stunts he ever directed.
JAWS in one way or another has been in our collective heads ever since. Often parodied. And at least in one case, real-life parallels drawn. Five years ago, a headline of a piece in the Wall St. Journal proclaimed “Coronavirus as a Sequel to ‘Jaws.” I instantly saw those parallels of life imitating art. In this case, a virus-denial, imitating a shark-denial.
In the movie, the fictional Mayor Larry Vaugh (played by Murry Hamilton) in his callous dismissiveness in the face of economic and political considerations, brought to mind that of Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida. Who, like Vaughn, wouldn’t even consider closing the beaches, while downplaying and greatly underestimating the potential extent of the virus.
It suggested to me, a variation on that classic poster (I couldn't resist)...
As to the merits of the film itself, beyond the initially surprising swim in an ocean of socio-political relevance and moral responsibility, JAWS retreats to the shore of what it was essentially born to be. A thriller. With a heavy dosage of high-seas adventure. But then there’s another unexpected moment you don’t usually find in such a genre. It comes toward the end of the film, by the so-called “Indianapolis speech,” delivered by famed English Shakespearean actor Robert Shaw. In itself a chilling saga.
What then follows, are man versus beast encounters (in the plural), what with the shark's repeated attacks at the boat carrying the three protagonists. It defies logic and reality, so hyper and atypically aggressive is this shark. From which a line (said to be improvised) is uttered— and forever a part of the vernacular whenever facing a task that seems overwhelming— “We’re gonna’ need a bigger boat.” A scene that would be fodder for many sketches on Saturday Night Live (also born in that year of 1975). Yet on balance, Time Out had this to say, which I thought was right on: “It took the popular movie thriller to another level, demonstrating that B-movie material could be executed with masterly skill."
While it did win three Oscars that year for Best Original Score, Sound and Film Editing, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest got the award for Best Picture. Determining "the best" of any creative endeaver is always a subjective exercise. Yet 50 years later, JAWS stills hold a place in the culture that none of the other contenders of that year do. Which was apparent even at the time, that would come to be the case. You could argue, that if that doesn't define Best Picture, what does?
JAWS will be rereleased in theaters for one week this year running from Friday August 29th through Thursday September 4th. For a film so legendary for its savvy marketing strategy in its original release, I think they missed the bigger boat here. A reissue coming at the end of summer rather than at the beginning? The old ad man in me thinks, June 20th— to coincide with the original release date— would have been the better way to go. Along with some high-profile promotion. But then again..."Nothing can bring back the hour, etc."
Word of the Month
What with the recent heat wave...
Etymology
Medieval Latin calefaction-, calefactio, from Latin calefactus (past participle of calefacere) + -ion-, -io -ion
First Known Use
First recorded in the period 1540–50.
Used in a Sentence
When his girlfriend left him, he sang, "I can't get no calefaction," in a mock-Jagger voice.
Fun Fact on The Fourth (reprised and edited from the July 2006 MuseLetter)
From a book entitled Contrary (to Popular Belief) by Joey Green, American author of over 60 books and a former advertising copywriter, comes this "contrary fact":
* Elias Boudinot
* Thomas Mifflin
* Richard Henry Lee
* John Hancock (and we thought he just hand fancy penmanship)
* Nathaniel Gorham
* Arthur St. Clair
* Cyrus Griffin
Here is how that goes, as taken directly from the Mr. Green’s book. Follow the bouncing ball:
• The United States was established on July 4, 1776. George Washington was inaugurated thirteen years later, on April 30, 1789.
• During the intervening years, the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia drew up the Articles of Confederation (the first American constitution.)
• In 1781, Maryland representative John Hanson was elected the first president of the Congress of the Confederation. His official title was President of the United Assembled States in Congress.
• After Hanson, seven other men served as president:
• In 1787, congress held a constitutional convention. The delegates wrote the current constitution, ratified by the states in 1788.
• The following year, the ratifying states elected Washington our nation’s ninth president (but the first under the new constitution).
More info than most of us will ever want to know. Yet, it does serve as a reminder that history and government are not just about key dates and names, mandated for memorization in grade school. It is also very much about what transpires in between those dates; in between those holiday weekends of summer.
We were especially reminded of this having just returned from Philadelphia; THE place where most of the aforementioned drawing up, ratifying, signing and electing took place. The setting for such history is quite dramatic and moving. Although we must admit, we were somewhat taken aback by the size and location of the Liberty Bell. We somehow expected it to be better hung, so to speak.