Who are the Splatty Daddies? Joyce`s A Portrait of the Artist as a

Transcription

Who are the Splatty Daddies? Joyce`s A Portrait of the Artist as a
Newsletter of the Columbia Neighborhood Association
Bellingham, Washington • Winter 2014 • Vol. 12, No. 1
Who are the Splatty Daddies?
by Joanna Nesbit
You probably know these guys best from the patriotic tunes
they belt out from the pickup truck leading Columbia’s Fourth of
July parade. But over the years, they’ve played a variety of little gigs,
mostly during the holiday season, at the Meridian Haggen, Elizabeth
Park gazebo, outside Columbia Elementary, the Holiday Port Festival,
and the Schader/McGarity family’s front porch. Somewhere along the
line, the two seasons became a regular thing, and a tradition was born.
It started because of kids. Dave Vincent, cornerstone of the
quintet, is all about kids—as neighborhood teens will attest—and
...see Splatty Daddies, p.3
**Columbia News Reader Poll**
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website to reduce cost and paper waste, or do you enjoy the physical
connection of having quarterly home delivery?
To participate in the poll, visit the Columbia Neighborhood Association website: www.columbianeighbors.com
Inside...
p.2...President’s Message
p.4...a poem
p.4... Neighborhood Meeting & Notes
p.6...a poem
Joyce’s A Portrait of the
Artist as a Young Man
Celebrates Centennial
-----------------
In honor of the Feb. 2, 1914, serial publication
of James Joyce’s influential novel in Ezra Pound’s
London literary journal The Egoist, we offer an
excerpt of the story’s first chapter. Discover or
recall the curiosities of Stephen Dedalus as as he
rapidly develops perception.
------------------------------
Once upon a time and a very good
time it was there was a moocow coming down
along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy
named baby tuckoo...
His father told him that story: his
father looked at him through a glass: he had a
hairy face.
He was baby tuckoo. The moocow
came down the road where Betty Byrne lived:
she sold lemon platt.
O, the wild rose blossoms
On the little green place.
He sang that song. That was his song.
O, the green wothe botheth.
When you wet the bed first it is
warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the
oilsheet. That had the queer smell.
...see A Portrait, p. 3
1
CNA President’s Message...
STATE OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD
A letter from President J.R. Johnson:
We have come across a new year in our beautiful neighborhood in beautiful Bellingham and those of us
who have lived here long enough can see the change taking place. Change is good. Change is progress. It is development, evolution and growth. As individuals, as a community and as a neighborhood we all grow and move
forward, and as we do, we present new opportunities, offer new experience and forge new friendships. I welcome
change, but I do so cautiously, for, as we play our role in moving Bellingham into 2014, we want to see change
without destroying what we cherish.
The airport is growing. No longer do we have to drive two hours south to fly for business, vacation or to
see our loved ones. We are five minutes away from travel across the nation, and it is a beautiful thing. But the
airport’s growth must be done with our careful eye monitoring its development and our active judgment advising
our port commissioners. And certainly being wary of when and where flight patterns and runways are developed,
so our quality of life and neighborhood are not jeopardized by planes flying 300 feet over our heads. Your representatives on the Columbia Neighborhood Association are forging coalitions with those of the Birchwood, Cornwall and Letter Street N.A.’s so our voice and representation is strong and unified, and our public officials hear our
concerns before those issues become irreversible.
You can see the impact of development all around us. The waterfront development is moving forward, as
a new park and walking trail begins construction this year. With the great growth and development comes traffic;
it is the nature of the game. We see it in this neighborhood and are working to mitigate its effects, so safety and
character are preserved. The crosswalk to Lil’ Squalicum Park will be completed this year. Trucks –big trucks- are
making their way down Eldridge Avenue many more times a day than what is acceptable. The CNA will be working with officials to update the truck route and to ban Eldridge as a regular route for 18-wheelers. Soon we will
begin working towards pushing officials to redevelop Seaview Avenue to be safer and more pedestrian friendly, so
our walks to the beach no longer have to be so hazardous.
This traffic is a sign that Bellingham’s population continues to move at a steady click, and city officials are
moving to review our infill standards, so our neighborhood can grow without its character fading away to sterile,
cookie-cutter housing. These, too require our participation, and as long as we speak, our officials and representatives will listen. They have to listen. This is our town, our neighborhood, and we shape it moving forward.
Want to contribute to the Columbia News?
Want to advertise in the Columbia News?
Email [email protected]
And keep reading...
2
Spatty Daddies...from p.1
A Portrait...from p.1
when his two high schoolers were at Columbia, he corralled
a few daddy musician friends to serenade the kids as they
departed school for winter break.
Dave has played the French horn since childhood,
performing first in a middle school brass quintet, and then
through his high school years and college years at the UW.
Trumpet player Curt Veldhuisen lives a few doors down the
street. Also a former high school and college band player
(and my husband), he hadn’t played in, like, 20 years, when
Dave cornered him, but his trumpet was in the basement
and reviving the “chops” was easy (he was so inspired he
also joined Swing Connection, a local jazz band, and regularly practices in his basement).
Jerry McGarity, self-described as a “sort-of ” trombone player who loved high school marching band, has
kids the same age as Dave, making him a shoo-in for the
group. Besides being game to play at Columbia with Dave
(sometimes it was just the two of them), his front porch was
a convenient and low-pressure venue for warm-up tunes
prior to his family’s annual caroling party. Alec Strand,
Splatty tuba player, is an honorary Columbia resident (he
lives in Birchwood) because the band needed a tubist and
he’s known Dave since they were kids and was part of Dave’s
middle school quintet.
High school teacher and dad Dave Lewis also
played the trumpet all through high school, and he loves
the play-twice-a-year philosophy. “One of the things that
many people can’t imagine is how efficient we are as a
band,” he says. “We don’t ever practice before a gig (except
for Curt, since he’s an alien), either individually or together.
We find that we splat the best when we practice while we
perform.”
It’s true the band never practices, but what they
won’t tell you is they rarely splat. Somehow these guys hit
most of the right notes. It must be the cumulative 150 years
of playing.
Over the years, the band has hosted valuable guest players when band members were out of town, including Zeke
Hoskins on bass clarinet, grasshopper flutist Glenna McGarity, an accordion player, and last summer, a brave kazoo
player.
With kids leaning toward adulthood, the Daddies
are growing up, and it’s hard to say what the future holds.
Meanwhile, spring is coming and they’re sure to play somewhere. Catch ‘em while you can.
His mother had a nicer smell than his father. She
played on the piano the sailor’s hornpipe for him to dance.
He danced:
Tralala lala,
Tralala tralaladdy,
Tralala lala,
Tralala lala.
-------------------------
Uncle Charles and Dante clapped. They were older than
his father and mother but uncle Charles was older than
Dante.
Dante had two brushes in her press. The brush
with the maroon velvet back was for Michael Davitt and
the brush with the green velvet back was for Parnell.
Dante gave him a cachou every time he brought her a
piece of tissue paper.
The Vances lived in number seven. They had a
different father and mother. They were Eileen’s father and
mother. When they were grown up he was going to marry
Eileen. He hid under the table. His mother said:
—O, Stephen will apologize.
Dante said:
—O, if not, the eagles will come and pull out his eyes.—
Pull out his eyes,
Apologize,
Apologize,
Pull out his eyes.
Apologize,
Pull out his eyes,
Pull out his eyes,
Apologize.
*****
The wide playgrounds were swarming with
boys. All were shouting and the prefects urged them
on with strong cries. The evening air was pale and
chilly and after every charge and thud of the footballers the greasy leather orb flew like a heavy bird
through the grey light. He kept on the fringe of his
line, out of sight of his prefect, out of the reach of the
rude feet, feigning to run now and then. He felt his
body small and weak amid the throng of the players
and his eyes were weak and watery. Rody Kickham
was not like that: he would be captain of the third
line all the fellows said.
...see A Portrait, p. 4
3
VOWELS
CNA General Meeting
Sat.Feb.18th
loveless vessels
Come to the CN meeting at the annex at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church on Walnut Street at 6PM. Our guest speaker
is Jeff Thomas, the Director of Planning for the City of
Bellingham. Jeff will give us an update on the Infill issue
as well the Waterfront Development. Jack Weiss, City
Council, will also be a part of the presentation. Coffee
and cookies will be provided. Agenda items include:
we vow
solo love
wee see
love solve loss
else we see
love sow woe
*Jeff Thomas, Planning Director, COB. Infill and Waterfront Development update and dialogue. Jack Weiss, City
Council, will be presenting as well.
selves we woo
we lose
*Membership drive and annual dues payment ($10)
*Officer election: two vacancies include the Treasurer and
Secretary. If you have an interest in serving in one of these
roles contact JR Johnson. See below.
losses we levee
we owe
CALL FOR OFFICERS
we sell
loose vows
Do you have leadership and managerial skills you would
like to contribute to yourcommunity? Would you like to
join the board of the Columbia Neighborhood Association? There will be an election cycle coming up at this
Feb. meeting. Please contact J.R. at his email: hapesjr@
hotmail.com if you are interested in joining the leadership
group of one of Bellingham’s prominent Neighborhood
Associations.
so we love
less well
so low
so level
____________________
wolves evolve
--Christian Bök, Eunoia
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4
A Portrait...from p.3
Rody Kickham was a decent fellow but Nasty
Roche was a stink. Rody Kickham had greaves in his
number and a hamper in the refectory. Nasty Roche
had big hands. He called the Friday pudding dog-inthe-blanket. And one day he had asked:
—What is your name?
Stephen had answered: Stephen Dedalus.
Then Nasty Roche had said:
—What kind of a name is that?
And when Stephen had not been able to answer Nasty
Roche had asked:
—What is your father?
Stephen had answered:
—A gentleman.
Then Nasty Roche had asked:
—Is he a magistrate?
He crept about from point to point on the
fringe of his line, making little runs now and then. But
his hands were bluish with cold. He kept his hands in
the side pockets of his belted grey suit. That was a belt
round his pocket. And belt was also to give a fellow a
belt. One day a fellow said to Cantwell:
—I’d give you such a belt in a second.
Cantwell had answered:
—Go and fight your match. Give Cecil Thunder a belt.
I’d like to see you. He’d give you a toe in the rump for
yourself.
That was not a nice expression. His mother
had told him not to speak with the rough boys in the
college. Nice mother! The first day in the hall of the
castle when she had said goodbye she had put up her
veil double to her nose to kiss him: and her nose and
eyes were red. But he had pretended not to see that
she was going to cry. She was a nice mother but she
was not so nice when she cried. And his father had
given him two five-shilling pieces for pocket money.
And his father had told him if he wanted anything
to write home to him and, whatever he did, never to
peach on a fellow. Then at the door of the castle the
rector had shaken hands with his father and mother,
his soutane fluttering in the breeze, and the car had
driven off with his father and mother on it. They had
cried to him from the car, waving their hands:
—Goodbye, Stephen, goodbye!
—Goodbye, Stephen, goodbye!
He was caught in the whirl of a scrimmage
and, fearful of the flashing eyes and muddy boots,
bent down to look through the legs. The fellows were
struggling and groaning and their legs were rubbing
and kicking and stamping. Then Jack Lawton’s yellow
boots dodged out the ball and all the other boots and
legs ran after. He ran after them a little way and then
stopped. It was useless to run on. Soon they would
be going home for the holidays. After supper in the
study hall he would change the number pasted up
inside his desk from seventy-seven to seventy-six.
It would be better to be in the study hall than
out there in the cold. The sky was pale and cold but
there were lights in the castle. He wondered from
which window Hamilton Rowan had thrown his
hat on the ha-ha and had there been flowerbeds at
that time under the windows. One day when he had
been called to the castle the butler had shown him
the marks of the soldiers’ slugs in the wood of the
door and had given him a piece of shortbread that
...see A Portrait, p. 7
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5
And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name
You can’t say it that way any more.
Bothered about beauty you have to
Come out into the open, into a clearing,
And rest. Certainly whatever funny happens to you
Is OK. To demand more than this would be strange
Of you, you who have so many lovers,
People who look up to you and are willing
To do things for you, but you think
It’s not right, that if they really knew you . . .
So much for self-analysis. Now,
About what to put in your poem-painting:
Flowers are always nice, particularly delphinium.
Names of boys you once knew and their sleds,
Skyrockets are good—do they still exist?
There are a lot of other things of the same quality
As those I’ve mentioned. Now one must
Find a few important words, and a lot of low-keyed,
Dull-sounding ones. She approached me
About buying her desk. Suddenly the street was
Bananas and the clangor of Japanese instruments.
Humdrum testaments were scattered around. His head
Locked into mine. We were a seesaw. Something
Ought to be written about how this affects
You when you write poetry:
The extreme austerity of an almost empty mind
Colliding with the lush, Rousseau-like foliage of its
desire to communicate
Something between breaths, if only for the sake
Of others and their desire to understand you and desert
you
For other centers of communication, so that understanding
May begin, and in doing so be undone.
--John Ashbery, Houseboat Days
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®
A Portrait...from p.5
the community ate. It was nice and warm to see the
lights in the castle. It was like something in a book.
Perhaps Leicester Abbey was like that. And there
were nice sentences in Doctor Cornwell’s Spelling
Book. They were like poetry but they were only sentences to learn the spelling from.
Wolsey died in Leicester Abbey
Where the abbots buried him.
Canker is a disease of plants,
Cancer one of animals.
It would be nice to lie on the hearthrug before the
fire, leaning his head upon his hands, and think on
those sentences. He shivered as if he had cold slimy
water next his skin. That was mean of Wells to shoulder him into the square ditch because he would not
swop his little snuff box for Wells’s seasoned hacking
chestnut, the conqueror of forty. How cold and slimy
the water had been! A fellow had once seen a big rat
jump into the scum. Mother was sitting at the fire
with Dante waiting for Brigid to bring in the tea. She
had her feet on the fender and her jewelly slippers
were so hot and they had such a lovely warm smell!
Dante knew a lot of things. She had taught him
where the Mozambique Channel was and what was
the longest river in America and what was the name
of the highest mountain in the moon. Father Arnall
knew more than Dante because he was a priest but
both his father and uncle Charles said that Dante
was a clever woman and a well-read woman. And
when Dante made that noise after dinner and then
put her hand up to her mouth: that was heartburn.
_____________
Excerpt From: James Joyce. “A Portrait of the Artist
as a Young Man.” iBooks. https://itunes.apple.com/
WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewBook?id=9B5EE
0891BCFC54B42C52406631718BF
7
CNA BOARD MEMBERS
•
•
•
•
J.R. Johnson, President, (253) 691-7039,
[email protected]
Jill MacIntyre Witt, Vice President, 201-3093, [email protected]
Board Member: Janette Kaiser 360-325-5127
Treasurer: vacant
MEMBERSHIP
Joining the association is easy, and it gives you the right
to vote at the annual meeting. Dues are $10 an­nually and
support this newsletter and other activities. Send your
name, address, phone, and email address with a check
for dues to: CNA, P.O. Box 921, Bellingham, WA 98227.
www.columbianeighbors.com
Contact: Greg Hope, [email protected]
Facebook: Columbia Neighborhood
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8
Vol. 12, No. 1 • Winter 2014
This newsletter is a publication of the Columbia Neighborhood Association. Opinions expressed by contributors
are not necessarily the official position of the Association.
Columbia News is published four times a year, delivered to
1,800 homes, and posted at www.columbianeighbors.com
Deadline for the Spring issue: March 31, 2014.
Ideas, articles, photos and letters are welcome.
Editor: Simon McGuire, [email protected]
Contributors: Joanna Nesbit, James Joyce, JR Johnson
Advertising: $50 for business-card size;
(contact Simon McGuire )
Distribution: If you can help, please conctact
Cathie Gerlicher [email protected].
Printing: Professionally printed by
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