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Quest for the Best (Picture): 2020 edition

An annual feature of More to Come is my take on the movies nominated for the “Best Picture” Oscar. However, it wasn’t until the 2019 Academy Awards show that I saw all of the nominees for the year in question. I was determined to do it again in 2020, and as of late yesterday evening, I’m pleased to say, “Mission Accomplished!”

I always remind readers that I make no claims to be a movie critic. These are personal views without any understanding of the nuances of filmmaking and without a deep well of knowledge of the movies of the late 20th and early 21st century. (I’ve come late to the joys of film.)

There is usually at least one movie I really loved that didn’t make the cut, and that’s the case again in 2020. I thought filming Aretha Franklin—at the height of her musical powers in 1972—singing 90 minutes of gospel music in a black Baptist church in Los Angeles, was transcendent cinema. As I wrote in my initial review of Amazing Grace, you have that voice, which is a national treasure, so what else do you need? But documentaries are not going to be considered for Best Picture awards.

As for other films that didn’t make the cut, I very much enjoyed The Farewell, would see it again, and would have ranked it high in the Best Picture category against the other competition. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. Also, I loved A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. This story of children’s television star Fred Rogers is a well-made and well-directed movie about an uplifting theme, focused on a hero that we desperately need in these times, and starring one of our most beloved actors of the era. While neither may be the year’s “best” picture, they are—spoiler alert—much more satisfying than Joker. I also found The Last Black Man in San Francisco to be a very thoughtful film, but I’m not arguing that it should have made the list.

(First Intermission: I apologize up front for the length of this post. The only thing longer is The Irishman. More on that in a bit. I usually break these reviews into 2-3 posts, but the fact that I saw five in the last seven days—all on the big screen, no less—pushed me to place all my reviews in this one post. However, the last week of binge movie watching was a lot of fun and made all the movies fresh in my mind, so I’m not too sorry about the length.*)

This was a tough year to pick a winner, as there were several very good films but no obvious standout for me. Plus, these movies were all over the place. However, three of the films separated themselves from the pack, so I’ll start with this top tier. And, much to my surprise, the ranking of those three changed with the movie I watched last evening.

The Irishman Movie Poster
My choice for Best Picture: The Irishman

I wasn’t sure how I was going to respond to The Irishmanother than assuming I would squirm (and worse) through the 3 hours and 29 minutes of runtime. But I was captivated right from the beginning and remained engrossed all the way until the end of Martin Scorsese’s mobster epic. The Irishman is a finely crafted character study of hit man Frank Sheeran—played in an incredible performance by Robert De Niro—who looks back on the choices he made that shattered his life and that of his family and friends.

De Niro, Al Pacino as the charismatic and temperamental Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa, and Joe Pesci as the ruthless and ruthlessly efficient crime boss Russell Bufalino are naturals for these roles. The immense talent both in front of and behind the camera comes through with every shot and scene. The movie also has excellent supporting actors as well, and I was especially taken with Kathrine Narducci as mob wife Carrie Bufalino, Ray Romano as Russell’s son Bill Bufalino, and Anna Paquin as Frank’s daughter Peggy Sheeran. It is her estrangement from her father—with the final break coming after a gripping few seconds of locked eyes as the news of her beloved “Uncle Jimmy” Hoffa’s disappearance is announced on the news—that tears at Frank for the rest of his life.

The last forty-five minutes of the movie, when we are shown more of how Frank came to be telling this story, is a moving look at the end of life and how choices can lead to moral isolation that is crushing in its effect. This is clearly a film Scorsese wanted to make at this point in his life. And that final coda made the length not only bearable, but absolutely necessary.

Since someone has to win Best Picture, I’m going with The Irishman. I could happily support either of the next two on the list, but Scorsese has made a film that brings together so many pieces from his illustrious career and, I believe, will stand the test of time.

Parasite movie poster
Movie poster from “Parasite”

Before seeing The Irishman, my vote for Best Picture was headed toward Parasite, a strange dark comedy out of South Korea that is more than worthy of the Oscar. The story of the intertwined lives of the poor Kim and wealthy Park families is full of unexpected twists and turns, right down to the end. The contrast between the city slums where the Kim’s live and the Park’s beautiful architect-designed house hits at the inequality that is at the heart of this story. It also reminds you of how so many of us have no idea how others live and survive.

The ensemble acting in Parasite is very strong, and I appreciated how all the characters played off each other to great effect. The first half of the movie is a classic heist film, and you’re watching in fascination, wondering if the Kim family will get away with it. However, Parasite isn’t really a clash of classes (although many have suggested that it is), as the wealthy Park family are generally sympathetic characters and the Kim family certainly acts like a bunch of rogues. As the movie twists towards its unexpected, and unexpectedly violent, ending, the story of the suffocating nature of the system, and how it drives all of us into becoming parasites, pushes the viewer to think about uncomfortable issues. In spite of the fact that the ending violence is Tarantino-like, it seems to have more of a point within the movie as a whole. Parasite is, in my view, a terrific piece of film craft and I would recommend it highly.

I’ll note that the Academy had the chance to do the right thing last year. I picked what should have been the first foreign language film to win the Best Picture award in tapping Roma in my wrap-up before the awards ceremony. Alas, the Academy went with the safe—and not very good— buddy film Green Book. Maybe they’ll right that wrong this year. Of course, it may be best to remember what the director Bong Joon-ho has said: “’The Oscars are not an international film festival,’ he said airily when quizzed on the subject. ‘They’re very local.’”

1917 movie poster

Also high on my list is 1917. This story of two soldiers tasked with stopping a battalion’s march into a death trap during World War I grabs you right from the beginning and never lets go. We’re each pulled along with nary a chance to catch our breath. Much has been written, appropriately, about the “one-shot” filming technique to let you see the story as through the eyes of a soldier, and that perspective keeps you riveted. The depiction of the trench warfare of World War I was effective and gripping from an emotional perspective. We’ve seen so many movies about World War II and Vietnam, but many people do not know as much about this earlier conflict which set the world on a path of endless war. Without going into which side was right or wrong, the film, to me, focuses on the general horrors of war.

In that vein, I was also taken by how young our two heroes are, and how much we’ve sacrificed our youth for stupid ideology and power. 1917 reminded me again of how modern warfare began during the American Civil War, but the level of brutality and slaughter really came of age in the second decade of the 20th century. I also recommend this movie as one not to miss.

Following the top tier, I have bunched three other movies closely together in the middle. They are very different, all have problems, and while perhaps not Best Picture quality they are very good nonetheless. The order of these three could be picked out of a hat, from my perspective.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed Ford vs. Ferrari. I’ve never been a big car enthusiast, and I certainly do not follow auto racing as a sport. However, many reviewers commented that this was a classic “Dad movie,” so perhaps I liked it because I clearly fall into that category.

But seriously, there is so much to admire in this movie, beginning with Christian Bale, who plays the British-born race-car driver Ken Miles. Is there anyone Bale cannot play? (Trick question. The answer is no. Just look at his list of credits. I’m still amazed that this is the same actor who played Dick Chaney last year in Vice.) Bale and Matt Damon, who plays American race-car designer Carroll Shelby, have great chemistry throughout the film. Tracy Letts, as Henry Ford II, is another terrific addition to what makes this film work, as his insecurities come through the bluster. One of the best scenes I’ve viewed all year is when Shelby takes Ford (or The Deuce, as he’s called) out for a wild ride in the race car they are developing. After being scared out of his wits, the car stops and Ford cries for what seems like an eternity, and you wonder if the tears are of fear or joy. (Spoiler alert: they are both.) Oh, and did I mention the incredible race car scenes. While the ending is a bit weak (this is based on a real-life story, so you can Google it to see what happens), this is an excellent movie which I highly recommend. I’m glad I got to watch this in the theatre on the big screen. (Did I mention the race scenes are grip-your-seat good?!)

Little Women movie poster
Movie poster for Little Women

Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of the classic Little Women probably won’t win Best Picture, but perhaps it should. It is a top notch film that tells a story which resonates beyond the 19th century setting. Full disclosure: I’ve never read the novel. However, I quickly picked up the story line and most of the time switches, and found it all very satisfying. Gerwig’s direction was superb, and yet she was inexplicably left out of the running for Best Director. That’s a shame, as her directorial choices here made this movie, much as they did with Lady Bird, another terrific film. I really enjoy the perspective women directors bring to their films and want to see more. And can I just say that the Academy is too damn white male dominated (and that’s coming from a white male)?

Saoirse Ronan as Jo Marsh, Eliza Scanlen as Beth, and Laura Dern as their mother Marmee shine throughout the two hours. Like Parasite, this entire ensemble works well together. The ending is surprising (which is a good thing) and, apparently, can be read in multiple ways depending on your perspective and knowledge of the book. For those who have read the book and seen the earlier movie adaptations, I can only call out the strong reviews from your peers. Highly recommended.

Jojo Rabbit is good but not great, and I place it this high with some trepidation. I generally do not like Nazi comedies, even when well done, but this movie seems to be less about Nazi’s in particular and more about hate. In fact, the movie bills itself as an anti-hate satire, and that strikes me as appropriate. Yet, the reality of the brutality of Nazi Germany—and the fact that so many Americans are now following a leader with strong authoritarian tendencies—strikes me as topics requiring more serious thought. You don’t get that type of reflection until the second half of the movie, when Jojo has to confront his own losses (as well as those of others). Roman Griffin Davis as Jojo is just about the cutest kid imaginable, and he does a great job with this part. Scarlett Johansson as Jojo’s mother Rosie, and Thomasin McKenzie as Elsa Korr, a Jewish girl whom Rosie hides in her home, are also excellent. When one reviewer said this movie has a Wes Anderson vibe, I agreed completely. I love Wes Anderson movies, so this one comes recommended.

(Second intermission: I apologize at this point for the rants I’m about to make. I’m not a movie critic, but I do have opinions. Of course, opinions are like noses, in that everyone has them.**)

Marriage Storyfor me, has too many flaws to be a serious Best Picture contender. It is not a bad movie, just one that seems a little sloppy in the execution and too male-centric (there’s that vibe again), to merit serious consideration. First, let’s talk about what’s good in this movie. My first star vote goes to every scene where Laura Dern plays Nora, the divorce lawyer. She just takes over the screen when she’s involved. In fact, all three divorce lawyers—the husband goes through two, Alan Alda and Ray Liotta—are excellent. Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver, as Nicole and Charlie, the artistic couple living in New York City with their eight-year old son, are also excellent. So, there is a good bit to like.

The film lost me, however, in several ways.

First, it is sloppy. Who flies back and forth between LA and New York with a pocket knife on their key ring? Answer: No one…except, apparently Charlie who must have bribed the TSA agent with a lot of money. It doesn’t help that the knife plays a key role at one point in the film. Also, who still puts an eight-year-old kid in a car seat? Answer: Very few people.*** The child would have to be very small…so why is the car seat another big thing at one point in the film? And what is it with an eight-year-old who can barely read and has potty issues? I’ll just say that the child, Henry, doesn’t seem believable in this movie. He’s a device for the screenwriter, and the fact that he goes back and forth in terms of abilities and basic life skills is just plain frustrating.

On a more fundamental level, I have to agree with those who see this as another film about a man-child working his way through the horrors of divorce, while his equally talented wife has to cover for him with the child, family, friends, and others. One reviewer mentioned that Charlie gets to work through all his emotions on screen while Nicole’s character—with the exception of one very-moving monologue in Nora’s office—is written in a way where she’s either already dealt with her emotional challenges brought on by the separation, or has to hide them while Charlie gets to rant. I thought this movie, had it been written from a woman’s perspective, would have been very different and probably more satisfying for me. And while neither of the songs from Company at the end of the movie work for me (Nicole sings “You Could Drive a Person Crazy”), I especially found Charlie’s version of “Being Alive” hard to take. It just seemed so manufactured.

So I guess that I thought this movie was okay, but just not of the quality of many of the other nominees.

Finally, I have two films at the bottom of my list, but the order surprised me.

After seeing Inglourious Basterds several years ago, I have avoided (boycotted perhaps) Quentin Tarantino movies. I find them childish on one level and I really don’t like the bloody revenge fantasies that appropriate the pain of others for his box-office glory. Plus, the guy is a one-trick pony. Something bothering you that happened in the past? Nazi Germany? Slavery? The Manson murders? Well, just conjure up some fake history (which we have quite enough of now coming out of a certain residence in Washington) to change the outcome. Oh, and did I mention that Tarantino is a terrible misogynist?

Still, with all that, Once Upon a Time…In Hollywood was better than my low bar expectations. Not great, but better than I would have predicted. First of all, the music from 1969 is incredible. And I get that everyone likes to watch Brad Pitt take off his shirt and shake out his hair (some of us just to go, “Damn…how does anyone look that good?”) and he does some fine acting in this movie (besides just playing “being Brad Pitt”). He really is good in this role as the aging stuntman. Leonardo DiCaprio as the washed-up actor Rick Dalton is a perfect match with Pitt, who plays his long-time body-double in the movie. Margaret Qualley, as one of the “Manson girls,” is also excellent. However, we don’t learn much about them as a group, and we certainly don’t explore the fact that they were brainwashed and victims of a sexual predator. I still don’t recommend the movie, but I didn’t go running out the door and I also thought parts of it were very good. And I understand that some people say that Tarantino is playing 12-dimensional chess and is making a great statement about how the movies always turn to violence to defeat evil and violence…but I’m not one of them.

However, I went into my reviews of this year’s nominees assuming nothing would rank lower than Once Upon a Time. Man, was I wrong!

Take Joker. Yes, please, just take it. There is no way this movie should be anywhere near the Best Picture award. Do we really need an origin story for a cartoon villain that tries so, so hard to be Taxi Driver but ends up looking like the lead actor and director just sat around and said, “what little vignette can we film that will take off on the internet?” I get it that some will say that Joaquin Phoenix gives an amazing performance, but it did not work for me. And as some have said, this movie isn’t nearly as edgy as it seems to think. There’s a lot worse just on the internet and in the news.

I agree with the reviewer who asserted that the Oscar the Grouch parody from Saturday Night Live tells you everything you need to know about how serious to take this movie.  And the SNL parody only takes three minutes instead of two hours. I’m just not going to say more. This was a terrible movie and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

So there you have it. If my luck holds, Joker will win all 11 categories for which it is nominated. And the wonderful movies I love—often made by women or looking at things in life other than violence—will end up getting no love from the Academy at the end of the night.

Oh well. C’est la vie.

More to come…

DJB

*I want to call out the wonderful decision of Landmark Bethesda Row Cinema to show all the Best Picture nominees in the 10 days or so before the Awards show, all for $5 each and with NO previews. Between our Landmark cinemas in DC and Maryland, as well as AFI Silver, we are well-served with thoughtful movie options all year long. Thank you!

**If you have something serious to say about my take on these last three (or any of the others), feel free to do so. But don’t try trolling me. This is especially true of those who love Joker. I get to approve all comments, and I’m sure I’ve already blocked worse trolls. So don’t waste your time (or mine).

***UPDATE: A careful reader came back and said his adult daughter had pointed out that the recommendations on car seats from the American Pediatrics Association had changed since I was dealing with them back in the 1990s. And there is some truth to that. The APA indicates that weight is what drives the decision about when to move from a car seat to a booster seat, so — at first I thought I was completely wrong on this point. Then I read more closely, and the APA said that booster seats are generally used for children ages 8-12. Ah ha! The filmmakers were clearly using a big car seat and not a booster! So I’m going to take points for being, perhaps, half-right. In any event, it didn’t change my perception of the movie.

Under promise and over deliver

One often hears the saying, “Under promise and over deliver.” It could even be labeled a Dad-ism. I know I’ve certainly said it more than once to my children over the years.

But some recent research suggests that it isn’t the best way to relate to customers, stakeholders, clients, and—perhaps—even children.

I began thinking about this old chestnut after being involved in a situation where someone promised several outcomes, none of which came to fruition in the timeframe suggested. The individual actually over promised and under delivered—a big issue in my book.

Here’s the Cliff Notes version of the story: I did a walking tour through downtown with staff from our local government to discuss several design and development issues. In the follow-up, I was told that specific actions—graffiti removed from new posts in the bike lane, tree stumps removed, trees replaced, paving patches restored—would be taken by a certain time. In each instance, even though I didn’t ask, specific dates were part of the promise.

Four weeks later and none of the deadlines had been met. Granted, most (but not all) were eventually met later in the year, but somehow their value was subtly diminished in my mind by the missing of the promised deadlines. Note that I had not asked for a specific deadline, but one had been promised, which changed the nature of the understanding. And therein lies the issue.

I don’t want to lay this all at the feet of government staffers. This is not a challenge restricted to one group or sector. No, in fact I’ve seen similar failures in for-profit businesses, nonprofit organizations, religious institutions, hospitals and medical facilities, and all volunteer groups, as well as in family settings. I’ve seen those types of failures in my own actions. The examples can range from major construction projects and missed report deadlines to simple tasks like taking out the garbage. (“I’ll get right on that, Dad!”)

As I was thinking about the “under promise/over deliver” truism,  I decided to undertake some research. Lo and behold, some real research, undertaken by a behavioral scientist and a business professor, found that going above and beyond a promise didn’t seem to be valued at all with business customers. The authors of the study speculate that “promises function something like a contract in our minds, nailing down expectations. Once we’ve received a promise, we strongly expect it to be met but do not in any way anticipate more than has been promised.”

Fair enough. It isn’t that I was expecting more trees to be planted than necessary, or an entire block repaved due to a poor, but relatively small, asphalt patching job by the utility company.

But I keep coming back to the promise and the delivery. I’d prefer you not tell me you are going to do something by this afternoon, or next week, or this month if there is a good chance it isn’t going to happen in that timeframe. If you don’t have great expectations you can meet a deadline, I’d rather hear that news so I can plan accordingly. In other words, I’d rather have realistic promises and deadlines.

I will suggest there are times when over-delivering is appreciated. I once was involved in a capital campaign that began with a $110 million goal. As we pushed closer to that number, we expanded it to $125 million. Each time we set and then expanded our goal, we were making a promise; one I took very seriously. I told our staff I wanted to blow by that last goal, to give our board, stakeholders, donors, and colleagues confidence that people wanted to see the organization succeed and were willing to invest in us. I still have a few hats around the house with the name of the campaign on the front and the words, “$100 million and still climbing” on the back. We ended the campaign having raised $135 million, or $10 million more than “promised.”

There are times when over-delivering is very much appreciated.

So, be thoughtful about your promises and base them on reality. Deliver on those promises, day in and day out. And in the times when over-delivery will make a difference, then go for it!

It sure the heck beats over promising and under delivering. I can “promise” you that such an approach will not be well received, by your client, your boss, your mom, or whoever is on the receiving end of your conversation.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Note: This is the third in a series of posts around interactions with government and property owners in downtown Silver Spring, Maryland, where I live. The first involved an inability to connect dots to ensure that projects were coordinated. The second involved quality of work. This final segment of the story on reliability is still playing out.

Photo credit: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Rhiannon Giddens: Reclaiming the racially heterogeneous lineages of American roots music

Black History Month is the perfect time to use the five Saturdays in February 2020 to highlight five different musicians at the forefront of the work to reclaim the African American contributions to folk, old-time, country and roots music.

I was so excited about this project that, naturally, I jumped the gun with this special themed edition of  Saturday Soundtrack posts. Providing readers with a taste of what was to come, I celebrated the music of Amythyst Kiah—the self-described “Southern Gothic” singer of “alt-country blues”—at the beginning of the year. So let’s officially begin this project with the founder of the band Our Native Daughters, one of Kiah’s collaborators, and the woman who has one of the most visible roles in leading, in Rolling Stone’s words, the “movement of 21st-century singers, artists, songwriters and instrumentalists of color who have been reclaiming the racially heterogeneous lineages of folk, country and American roots music.”

Rhiannon Giddens Freedom Highway

That musician, Rhiannon Giddens, is a force of nature, and one of the best things to happen, not just to African American roots music, but music in general in a very long time. After studying opera at Oberlin Conservatory, she came onto the scene in 2005 with the traditional African American string band, The Carolina Chocolate Drops. Giddens has one Grammy win (for the album Genuine Negro Jig) and has been nominated six times, including in this year’s Best American Roots Performance category. She was the 2016 winner of the Steve Martin prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass, while in 2017 she won a prestigious MacArthur Foundation Fellowship (the “genius” award.) And, of course, the album Songs of Our Native Daughters has sparked conversations, beginning with the four banjo-playing black women who came together to make this groundbreaking Smithsonian Folkways album. Or, as Giddens described them, “People who are talking now about what happened then, and what it means for tomorrow.”

Merlefest 042609 023
Rhiannon Giddens with The Carolina Chocolate Drops at Merlefest 2009

I first heard Giddens live at Merlefest in 2009, but The Chocolate Drops got their start four years earlier with original members Giddens, Don Flemons, and fiddle player Justin Robinson. They had met at the Black Banjo Gathering at Appalachian State University in Boone, NC, a conference dedicated to exploring the roots of banjo music. Living in Durham, North Carolina, the three would travel every Thursday night to the home of old-time fiddler and songster Joe Thompson to “learn tunes, listen to stories and, most importantly, to jam.” A black fiddler in his 80s, Joe inherited his music and playing style from generations of family musicians. With these Thursday evening sessions, he was passing those lessons on to a new generation. “When the three students decided to form a band, they didn’t have big plans,” notes the Chocolate Drops website. “It was mostly a tribute to Joe, a chance to bring his music back out of the house again and into dancehalls and public places.”

Songs of our Native Daughters

To begin a sampling of Giddens music, I’ll share Hit ’em Up Style from The Chocolate Drops Genuine Negro Jig, a version of the Blu Cantrell song which, in the words of the BBC reviewer, “totally countrifies an urban classic to create a tune that would be just as at home in hoedown as any blinging city nightclub.”

Country Girl is from the album Leaving Eden. Enjoy this live version from the Americana Awards.

Moon Meets the Sun from Songs of our Native Daughters is a Giddens tune that is beautiful and optimistic.

I’m On My Way is from her most recent album, There Is No Other, and well worth a listen. Finally, At the Purchaser’s Option, from the album Freedom Highway, is a heartbreaking, achingly sad, and ultimately powerful song. It was written by Giddens after she read an ad for a young slave woman which added, as an afterthought, that the young woman had a 9-month old baby “available at the purchaser’s option.”

“I’ve got a babe but shall I keep him
‘Twill come the day when I’ll be weepin’
But how can I love him any less
This little babe upon my breast

You can take my body
You can take my bones
You can take my blood
But not my soul
You can take my body
You can take my bones
You can take my blood
But not my soul

I’ve got a body dark and strong
I was young but not for long
You took me to bed a little girl
Left me in a woman’s world

You can take my body
You can take my bones
You can take my blood
But not my soul…

Day by day I work the line
Every minute overtime
Fingers nimble, fingers quick
My fingers bleed to make you rich

You can take my body
You can take my bones
You can take my blood
But not my soul…

I’ve got a babe but shall I keep him”

There is so much to take in with the music of Rhiannon Giddens. And there’s so much to know about all the other work she is doing to tell forgotten and “disappeared” stories. To that end, I strongly recommend her interview in The Guardian from 2018 titled “‘White people are so fragile, bless ’em’…meet Rhiannon Giddens, banjo warrior.”

The award citation from Steve Martin has this brief synopsis of her importance:

“In an interview in the February 2016 issue of Banjo Newsletter, Giddens said “I was attracted to the banjo before I knew the history of it. I just loved it. In the beginning I felt like I was kind of an interloper, and then I realized actually it’s everybody’s music. When you look at the history of it, it’s everybody’s music. It doesn’t belong to anybody. And then getting into the African roots of it I was just flabbergasted. . . . It’s a huge history that nobody talks about. And that really drew me.” Giddens’s work recognizes how big and versatile and multicultural the banjo can be, and how deep its roots go. Her electrifying performances have made the banjo exciting to new audiences, while simultaneously reaching back to the instrument’s earliest origins.”

As she told the International Bluegrass Music Association, “The question isn’t ‘How do we get diversity into bluegrass?’ The question is, ‘How do we get diversity back into bluegrass?'”

Exactly!

More to come…

DJB

(Photo of Rhiannon Giddens from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation via Creative Commons)

Searching for Utopia

City on a Hill by Alex Krieger
“City of a Hill” by Alex Krieger

Americans have a long history of living with an eye on the horizon, seeking something shiny and new.

The first religious communities of New England, founded to escape the tyranny of the established churches in Europe, led to Roger Williams and others leaving those new settlements for Rhode Island to escape the tyranny of the Puritans. The Jeffersonian search for freedom in land led to grid-and-garden patterns of development across much of the Midwest and West and, eventually, the push out of the city into the “land” of the suburb. Communitarian journeys to places like New Harmony, the Shaker villages, and (a personal favorite) the 19th century English town of Rugby, Tennessee are part of the story. Henry Ford noted that, “We shall solve the problem of the city by leaving the city,” so Ford, George Pullman and other industrialists, up to and including today’s Silicon Valley elites, have constructed company towns and “E-topias” to build something new in the land of opportunity.

All of these examples and many more are part of Alex Krieger’s new book City on a Hill: Urban Idealism in America from the Puritans to the PresentKrieger, longtime professor in urban design at the Harvard Graduate School of Design and a practicing urban planner, has written an accessible book about the many strands of utopia that have shaped the American landscape and personality.

And what a collection of big ideas it is!

We read about Thomas Jefferson’s vision of a society of homesteaders and Ebenezer Howard’s garden suburbs. Frank Lloyd Wright’s decentralized “Broadacre City” is covered, as is Walt Disney’s planned community of Celebration, Florida. General Motors had ideas of “magic motorways” which could connect to Le Corbusier’s urban “towers in the park.” Frederick Law Olmstead and his disciples worked to create urban public spaces in cities open to a broader public, while Robert Moses pushed slum clearance in exchange for freeways. There are chapters on Daniel Burnham’s City Beautiful movement and Las Vegas, the casino city in the desert. Levittown and Jane Jacobs’s urban village all fall into Krieger’s description of our American utopian vision. You may not agree with all of Krieger’s assessments, but there are many other examples he could have included to make his point.

The book succeeds in showing how strong the vision for the “new” is in American life. There is much to like about the idealist fervor that is a long-time element in this country. It has brought many achievements and advancements. But Krieger’s work also highlights the ways that this tendency to discard the past and its “limitations” wastes resources, runs roughshod over existing populations and communities, and—in the end—is a way of running away from, rather than facing and addressing, our problems. In a different context, the words of author Isabel Wilkerson fit here as well.  We refuse to see that our country is “like a really old house” where we don’t want to go into the basement. However, “if you really don’t go into that basement, it’s at your own peril.” Krieger’s book shows that we have often run away looking for other utopian visions, hoping that what we are ignoring will just go away. But, as Wilkerson asserts, “Whatever you’re ignoring is only going to get worse. Whatever you’re ignoring will be there to be reckoned with until you reckon with it.”

Thomas Hughes Free Library at Rugby 081012
Thomas Hughes Free Public Library at Rugby, Tennessee
The Thomas Hughes Library at Rugby
Interior of The Thomas Hughes Library, with its one-of-a-kind collection of Victorian era books

Krieger notes in his preface that to write about utopian visions can seem “Pollyannaish” when one considers “many of the nation’s dystopic features.” I agree to a point, and found his work missing a deep dive into some of the uglier results of the vision of American Exceptionalism and Manifest Destiny. Yet Krieger largely succeeds at what he set out to do in examining the utopian impulse in America.

The book begins with an extensive look at Thomas Jefferson, who harbored a well-known disdain for cities. Krieger quotes historian Joseph J. Ellis in describing Jefferson as someone “who combined great depth with great shallowness, massive learning with extraordinary naivete, piercing insights into others with daunting powers of self-deception” and then adds that this is a “near-perfect description of a utopian.”  Many of the others highlighted in the book display similar tendencies. Their visions are rarely fully realized, and what does come to pass often results in serious unintended consequences.

In a short postscript, Krieger highlights a handful of themes focused on ways forward to keep the vision but change how our utopian experiences have benefited the few at the expense of the many. His most important desire is that the tendency to decamp—”to go West, young man”—should continue to wane. We have our cities of the future now, but they require maintenance, repair, and revitalization. Given great inequalities and increasing environmental challenges, we must focus on that important work in the years ahead instead of leaving what we have and striking out again for some imagined utopia over the horizon

More to come…

DJB

Connect and care

Argument (Image by Tumisu from Pixabay)
(Image by Tumisu from Pixabay)

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to break into a rant?

Come to think of it, that could be an opening line from an Andy Rooney parody. I’ve been thinking of that cranky curmudgeon from CBS’s 60 Minutes recently as I’ve listened to some of our political discussions. Rooney would fit right in as a television pundit in our age of grievance.

I am afraid I understand the allure of grievances all too well. The temptation to rant is very enticing at times, and on very serious subjects, no less. For example…

  • And I know that everyone wants to know what I think about the consensus that Derek Jeter should have been the second unanimous choice to enter Baseball’s Hall of Fame, after Mariano Rivera made it last year on 100% of the ballots. Seriously? Jeter had a better-than-good but not exceptional career; is handsome (I’ll grant him that); was lucky to be where he was at times (ahem, I’m looking at you, Jeffrey Maier, before the advent of instant replay would have called Jeter’s “home run” an out); and played for the most PR-conscious team in all of sports. But a unanimous choice? No way. If Willie Mays was only selected on 95% of the ballots in his first year, no one deserves to be elected with 100% support. (By the way, after Mays was not placed on every ballot, sportswriter Dick Young had this classic comment: “If Jesus Christ were to show up with his old baseball glove, some guys wouldn’t vote for him. He dropped the cross three times, didn’t he?”) In any event, some anonymous sportswriter didn’t include Jeter on his ballot, and so I didn’t have to rant about this. I know you’re glad to hear that.

See, I told you it was easy to go down the ranting rabbit hole. And sports is clearly one area where outrage has overtaken sportsmanship and just plain old common sense.

Thankfully, many times when I rise up to rant about some trouble, slight, or loss of privilege, I remember that much of our outrage is wrapped up in perceived grievances. It is so easy to get worked up. And so we do. Sometimes we get worked up to get out of facing hard realities. Some 50 years ago, historian Richard Hofstadter discussed how these grievances infiltrate our civic life in The Paranoid Style in American Politics

As noted by Steve Almond in Bad Stories: What the Hell Just Happened to Our Country, we take our grievances oh so seriously; yet, we dismiss the vulnerabilities that should give us pause in seeking to right all the wrongs that we believe have been perpetrated against us. We get worked up and cast protest votes, or choose not to vote at all, without realizing that we are helping the very politicians and their corporate and media enablers who have promised to upend much that we hold dear or things on which our lives or livelihood depends. Or perhaps we realize it, but don’t quite believe it will happen to us. In any event, there are vulnerabilities all around us that we would do well to take as seriously as our grievances.

Hands (Image by James Chan from Pixabay)
Helping hands (photo credit: James Chan from Pixabay)

Instead of grievances, how would our lives differ if we focused on empathy?

Our grievances can come from the fact that we don’t know, and don’t connect, with the people who we assault through our online rants. I’ll be honest, I have never met Dabo Swinney or Derek Jeter. So it is easy for me, even in jest, to—in the words of Dr. Helen Riess in her TEDx talk on empathy—”inflict harm on people you never see.”

Just as we learn how to perceive grievances, Dr. Riess—of the Harvard Medical School and founder of Empathetics, an empathy and interpersonal skills training company for medical professionals—suggests that our capacity for empathy is not just an innate trait. It is also a skill that we can learn and expand.

Vivien Fellegi, writing in the magazine Broadview, notes,

“The impulse to help others isn’t simply the result of a good upbringing, a strong moral compass or adherence to a faith-based code of conduct. The drive to assist is born in empathy—that ability to feel and understand what others are feeling—and according to recent neuroscience, empathy is hardwired into all mammals. ‘At a fundamental level, the default is to help—in order not to help you have to actively suppress that urge,’ says Peggy Mason, a neuroscientist and professor at the University of Chicago.” (emphasis added)

We’re hardwired to care, but we have to nurture it. To not help others, we have to suppress that urge, which is exactly what we’re doing when we focus on grievances.

Unfortunately, we can’t nurture empathy if we are buried in our electronic devises reading tweets and posts designed to build up our grievances and turn us into tribes. As Dr. Riess notes, we “probably have more significant contact with our smartphones than with our significant others.” With that in mind, she goes on to quote American novelist Jonathan Safran Foer who said, “When we accept diminished substitutes, we become diminished substitutes.”

We have to connect with and care for people who don’t look like us if we want to get at the heart of empathy. And it is a better way forward for us, and for others we meet, than indulging the short-term high of a rant.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Images by Tumisu and James Chan from Pixabay

Saturday Soundtrack: Greensky Bluegrass

Greensky Bluegrass (photo credit greenskybluegrass.com)
Greensky Bluegrass (photo credit: greenskybluegrass.com)

Greensky Bluegrass  began playing together more than 18 years ago, and they remain road warriors today, making up to 175 tour stops a year. Based in Kalamazoo, Michigan, these five musicians play bluegrass music and much more on traditional bluegrass instruments. In fact, Greensky Bluegrass fits nicely into the progressive bluegrass and jam band category begun lo those many years ago by Sam Bush and the New Grass Revival, II Generation, and others. Today, they are often compared—and share the stage with—String Cheese Incident, the Infamous Stringdusters, and similar bands.

While they’ve played hallowed country music halls such as Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, they also play to large audiences in venues less frequently connected to traditional bluegrass acts, such as Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Bonnaroo, and the New Orleans Jazz Festival. The band has been described as “a live force of nature renowned for bringing rock ‘n’ roll showmanship to high-energy bluegrass…. Their unpredictable performances remain the stuff of legend attracting diehard devotees who typically travel far and wide to experience multiple gigs.”

The internet has a wide variety of the band’s music for those who want to take a listen. Do It Alone is from their most recent album, All For Money (a nice tongue-in-cheek title for any bluegrass band.) For those looking for something closer to traditional bluegrass picking (at least until about the 3 minute mark), check out Kerosene. On a different level you may want to sample Windshield, a song of pain, loneliness, and loss that fits well in any musical tradition.

“There’s a secret in the basement, I can feel it through the floor
I don’t think this heart can take the weight of deception anymore
Cry out in helpless agony for the broken memories In things
I thought that I would never be.”

The bluegrass jam band tradition is not everyone’s cup of tea, and I tend to take it in small doses. But bands like Greensky Bluegrass attract wider audiences who often end up finding their way into the wealth of good music in the acoustic / bluegrass / Americana world. Greensky Bluegrass will be playing two shows at The Anthem (not your traditional bluegrass venue) in Washington next weekend, on Friday the 31st and Saturday, February 1st.

Enjoy.

More to come…
DJB

Towards a more perfect union

To a historian, the beginning of the Senate’s impeachment trial of Donald Trump seems to be an appropriate time to consider our nation’s history. Trump has been impeached for his actions to involve a foreign country in undermining the 2020 election and — by extension — undercutting the right of U.S. citizens to choose their own leaders.

We will certainly hear a great deal of fake history — both of the recent and founding fathers variety — this week. For the real deal, I turn instead to one of our country’s most prominent historians of the Civil War and Reconstruction era, Pulitzer Prize-winning author and scholar Eric Foner.

The Second Founding: How the Civil War and Reconstruction Remade the Constitution is Foner’s most recent book, bringing together a lifetime of scholarship around this most contentious era in our nation’s history. And in spite of its look at a period some 150 years in the past, this is work with great resonance for this day, this political climate, and the major questions of how we will advance as a nation.

As Foner states in his preface, “Key issues confronting American society today are in some ways Reconstruction questions.” When we are faced with an impeachment trial that may not call any witnesses or ask for any documents, we are far removed from the country that professes to be democratic and subject to the rule of law. Foner suggests that, “most historians see Reconstruction, as W.E.B. Du Bois argued three-quarters of a century ago, as a key moment in the history of democracy and its overthrow as a setback for the democratic principle in the United States and throughout the world” (emphasis added).

Anyone who looks at our history through rose colored glasses clearly has not read Foner’s “direct and vivid prose,” as described by one reviewer. Foner writes “without a trace of specialized language, which anyone with a passing interest in the subject can read, learn from, and enjoy.” As someone whose father and uncle were victims of an early form of McCarthyism, due to their writings on African American and labor history and sympathies with communism, Foner knows first hand how so many of our advances as a nation have been half-steps and partial victories, pulled back by conservative interests.

The Second Founding is a slim volume that looks at the three Reconstruction-era amendments to the U.S. Constitution—the 13th, 14th, and 15th—which abolished slavery, guaranteed all persons due process and equal protection of the law, and equipped black men with the right to vote. Foner’s work highlights the radicalism of these amendments and how, as Georgetown professor Michael Kazin writes in a review in The Nation, 

“…over the past 150 years, clever and powerful conservatives have diligently sought to undermine their egalitarian promise. As Foner reminds us, the ‘key elements of the second founding, including birthright citizenship, equal protection of the laws, and the right to vote, remain highly contested…. Rights can be gained, and rights can be taken away.’”

The battles today on the floor of the U.S. Senate, in the Supreme Court, and in state capitols across the land, remind us that while we’ve come a long way towards “fulfilling the agenda of Reconstruction,” deep inequalities remain. Foner’s work in The Second Founding points directly to Supreme Court decisions as undermining the Reconstruction amendments and the push for equality in fundamental ways, often requiring very creative reading of the historical texts.

His point is not “that the counterinterpretation” to these Supreme Court rulings is the one and only true meaning of what Congress intended when the amendments were passed in the late 1860s, but that “viable alternatives exist to actual Supreme Court jurisprudence, alternatives rooted in the historical record which would infuse the amendments with greater power.”

It will require a change in the political environment to bring forward the true meaning of those amendments. Perhaps a show trial in one of the most consequential acts a Congress is ever asked to address, is what it will take to drive such a change.

More to come…

DJB

The work still before us

As we celebrate the life and work of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. this weekend, we are reminded of how far we’ve come in terms of racial justice and equality in America.

And—this year more than most—we are also reminded of how so very far we’ve yet to go.

In honor of the work of Dr. King, I quoted author Michael Eric Dyson in 2019 from his book Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America, where Dyson argues of Martin Luther King, Jr. that America has “washed the grit from his rhetoric” in order to get to a place where he can be seen and admired by the country at large. Yet it was King who said that the country’s race problem “grows out of the…need that some people have to feel superior. A need that some people have to feel…that their white skin ordained them to be first.”

Difficult words for many to hear, yet, “This is why King is so important to this generation, to this time, to this nation, to our people,” Dyson writes. “He spoke the truth that we have yet to fully acknowledge.”

In recent days I’ve been immersed in books, articles, and talks that speak to how we have yet to acknowledge the racism of our past and present. It was an essay by the author Michelle Alexander in the Sunday Review of the New York Times as well as an interview with Alexander in The New Yorker that pushed me to revisit her seminal work on mass incarceration. It is a book that reveals the depth of our challenge as well as any I’ve read in recent years, and confronts me personally with each new visit. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness still stands as a stinging rebuke to those who make the case that we are a post-racial society and should quickly move beyond our racist past.

In the book’s original introduction Alexander wrote,

“What has changed since the collapse of Jim Crow has less to do with the basic structure of our society than with the language we use to justify it. In the era of colorblindness, it is no longer socially permissible to use race, explicitly, as a justification for discrimination, exclusion, and social contempt. So we don’t. Rather than rely on race, we use our criminal justice system to label people of color “criminals” and then engage in all the practices we supposedly left behind…We have not ended racial caste in America; we have merely redesigned it.”

Her new essay shows how much has changed from the time when Barack Obama was elected the nation’s first black president until today. Racism is front and center of national discourse, and usually not in a good way.

“Donald Trump is president of the United States. For many, this feels like whiplash. After eight years of Barack Obama—a man who embraced the rhetoric (though not the politics) of the civil rights movement—we now have a president who embraces the rhetoric and the politics of white nationalism. This is a president who openly stokes racial animosity and even racial violence, who praises dictators (and likely aspires to be one), who behaves like a petulant toddler on Twitter, and who has a passionate, devoted following of millions of people who proudly say they want to ‘make America great again’ by taking us back to a time that we’ve left behind.

We are now living in an era not of post-racialism but of unabashed racialism, a time when many white Americans feel free to speak openly of their nostalgia for an age when their cultural, political and economic dominance could be taken for granted—no apologies required.”

Alexander’s interview, essay, and the book—just released in a 10th anniversary edition— all suggest how we must address the new era of Jim Crow by treating the problem of mass incarceration as a racial caste system and not as a system of crime control.

Most importantly, we have to care for people who don’t look like us.

“Seeing race is not the problem,” Alexander writes. “Refusing to care for the people we see is the problem(emphasis mine). Alexander argues in her book that America should not hope for a colorblind society “but instead for a world in which we can see each other fully, learn from each other, and do what we can to respond to each other with love.”

Dr. King’s dream was just that: “a society that is capable of seeing each of us, as we are, with love.” Alexander adds, “That is a goal worth fighting for,” and then concludes her current essay with the following:

“The struggle is as old as the nation itself and the birth process has been painful, to say the least. My greatest hope and prayer is that we will serve as faithful midwives in our lifetimes and do what we can to make America, finally, what it must become.”

martin-luther-king monument detail (Image by LuAnn Hunt from Pixabay)
MLK Memorial Detail (photo credit: LuAnn Hunt from Pixabay)

That fight, as Dr. King suggested, requires moral toughness. Former First Lady Michelle Obama also suggests it requires dignity, determination and hope. In her memoir Becomingshe writes,

“What I won’t allow myself to do, though, is to become cynical. In my most worried moments, I take a breath and remind myself of the dignity and decency I’ve seen in people throughout my life, the many obstacles that have already been overcome. I hope others will do the same. We all play a role in this democracy. We all vote. I continue, too, to keep myself connected to a force that’s larger and more potent than any one election, or leader, or news story—and that’s optimism. For me, this is a form of faith, an antidote to fear.”

There is still much for us to do, especially those of us who have enjoyed the unmerited privilege of being white. We should undertake that work with gratefulness for the life—and continuing impact—of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Have a good week.

More to come…
DJB

Images from WikiImages and LuAnn Hunt from Pixabay.

Mavis Staples

Saturday Soundtrack: Mavis Staples

There is no better musical artist to celebrate during The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend than American icon and national treasure Mavis Staples.

Her reach and impact as a once-in-a-generation artist has been astounding. Staples is a member of both the Blues Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, a Grammy Award winner, a Kennedy Center honoree, and a recipient of the National Arts Lifetime Achievement Award. As someone who began singing during the civil rights movement and marched with Dr. King, her longevity in the spotlight is a testament to her magnificent talent. Mavis Staples performed at John F. Kennedy’s inauguration and sang at President Barack Obama’s White House.

And she’s still going strong.

“At a time when most artists begin to wind down, Staples ramped things up, releasing a trio of critically acclaimed albums in her 70’s with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy that prompted Pitchfork to rave that ‘her voice has only gained texture and power over the years’ and People to proclaim that she ‘provides the comfort of a higher power.’ In between records with Tweedy, Staples teamed up with a slew of other younger artists—Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, Nick Cave, Valerie June, tUnE-yArDs, and M. Ward among others—for ‘Livin’ On A High Note,’ an album The Boston Globe called ‘stunningly fresh and cutting edge.”

Staples was, of course, a member of the iconic Staple Singers with her siblings Yvonne, Cleotha, and Pervis, and their father, “Pops” Staples. The group’s music was key to the soundtrack of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, and Mavis has been carrying the torch ever since. She turned 80 years old in 2019, and celebrated by releasing her twelfth studio album and first full-length collaboration with multi-Grammy Award-winner Ben Harper. The title track to We Get By, is, as Mavis says, “a song that is gonna help somebody.” She loves to sing songs that “brings somebody closer.” Now in her ninth decade, Mavis continues her life’s work for love, faith, justice, brotherhood, and joy.

There is so much great Mavis music to celebrate, that I’ll just touch the tip of the iceberg and encourage you to go down the YouTube rabbit hole on your own. O Happy Day with Mavis and Aretha Franklin brings together two of the greatest and most powerful Soul and Rhythm & Blues voices not just of their generation, but of all time. (Check out the interplay at about the 1:50 segment and then again at 4:00. Good gawd!) If you want some movement songs or gospel from the Civil Rights era, you might try Freedom Highway or Wade in the Water

Mavis has a wide range of musical interests. She can sing the definitive cover version of Bob Dylan’s Gotta Serve Somebody, join in with some gospel soul at the Country Music Academy awards ceremony with Chris Stapleton, and then turn Stephen Foster’s Hard Times Come Again No More into the most aching, soulful, and beautiful interpretation imaginable.

Finally, I’ve always loved the spirit that comes through as Staples rehearses “The Weight” backstage in 2011 with Wilco and Nick Lowe. Watch her supportive love pat of Nick Lowe at about the 1:40 segment, to help him work through the tricky lyrics.

Music, as sung by Mavis Staples, brings people together. Thanks to this wonderful treasure for so much love and good music over nine decades of life.

Enjoy.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Mavis Staples from her “Live in London” album

Pathway Free-Photos

The top one percent

You, dear reader, have just clicked onto my 1,000th post on More to Come. As it says in the tagline, you’ve found my observations and recollections on places that matter, books worth reading, roots music, the times we live in, and “whatever else tickles my fancy.”

That last one gives me license to touch on just about anything. But don’t worry. Contrary to the headline, this isn’t a rant about income inequality. I’ll explain in a moment.

More to Come was created in 2008 to capture photos and memories from a family vacation. After the trip was over, I simply continued writing. Originally I would send random thoughts on a few things I cared about to friends, family, and other travelers on the internet who might share the same passions.

Over the years the blog changed to have a more definite focus and look. In 2016, I began writing an email each Monday morning to my staff at the National Trust for Historic Preservation about things that were on my mind. This discipline led to a regular feature on the blog, written with the first day of the work week in mind, which is found under the heading of Monday Musings. There’s even a subcategory of stories, entitled On Leadership. Late last year I found that my writing on things musical had largely disappeared, so I begin a new feature entitled Saturday Soundtrack to push myself to engage more with old friends and new talents (at least to me). Observations from… is another regular, if occasional, series where I often bring together short comments that, as I’ve noted more than once, “may not be ready for prime time” as a longer post. And because this is my gap year where I negotiate the move from a full-time career to something different, I added a section entitled What’s Next.

For this 1,000th time I’ve put fingers to keyboard, I thought it would be fun to look at the top ten posts in terms of views since I took More to Come out for a stroll in the blogosphere lo those many years ago. Hence the top 1 percent! So while you may have thought the headline was going to lead you down the rabbit hole of income inequality, never fear.

Most of the top ten are from older postings, which makes sense given that they’ve had longer to build up views, be referenced and tagged in more recent stories, and show up on search engines. I’ll reveal them in reverse order to build up the suspense!

Milwaukee City Hall Atrium Looking Down from the 8th Floor
The atrium at the Milwaukee City Hall

Number 10: If Santiago Calatrava’s Milwaukee Art Museum (spoiler alert…look ahead to #5) is a symbol of the city’s optimism for the 21st century, then the Milwaukee City Hall is a fine example of the community’s spirit and optimism for the 20th. My pictures, which really do not do this building justice, nonetheless capture what a colleague described as “an atrium you don’t want to miss.” Man, was he right!

A Guitar Study, Photo by Claire
A guitar study, playing my Gallagher (photo credit: Claire Brown)

Number 9: I love the fact that readers find out about fine hand-crafted guitars on More to Come. In Praise of Gallagher Guitars was a post I wrote about my Gallagher shortly after The Fretboard Journal carried a story on Doc Watson’s favorite guitar makers. Coming in just outside the Top Ten was another instrumental post, one about Finding My New Running Dog Guitar. Yes, I am afflicted with G.A.S. (Guitar Acquisition Syndrome) and I am a lucky man.

Number 8: The post Never Underestimate the Impact One Person Can Have on the World was written by our son Andrew upon the death of his teacher and mentor, Ben Hutto. It is a heartfelt tribute to someone who not only touched our family, but tens of thousands of people all around the world. Ben had an infectious love for music and life.

Number 7: Tulsa, Oklahoma, has an incredible collection of Art Deco architecture, none better than the Boston Avenue Church, which I featured in a 2008 post.

Wingspread - Sleeping porrch
The sleeping porch at Wingspread

Number 6: Over two days in 2009, I was with a National Trust group that toured a remarkable collection of Frank Lloyd Wright architectural gems located in Wisconsin. Along the way we saw icons and surprises. The text and photos include information and views on Herbert Fisk Johnson’s home, Wingspread, Wright’s “last” Prairie style home and a truly magnificent work with incredible light; the famous S.C. Johnson headquarters, in Racine; and then on to Milwaukee for the Frederick C. Bogk House, which is currently a private residence.

Calatrava's Milwaukee Art Museum Front View
Calatrava's Milwaukee Art Museum With the Wings Almost Completely Lowered
Calatrava's Milwaukee Art Museum with the sunscreen lowered
Calatrava's Milwaukee Art Museum View Toward the Lake
View from Calatrava’s Milwaukee Art Museum

Number 5: I’m lumping three posts into one here. I went on a Santiago Calatrava binge a few years ago, and my photos and comments have always been a reader favorite. In fact, these three separate posts have virtually the same number of views, and they show up together in the analytics chart. To see some wonderful architecture as sculpture, take a look at the Dublin bridges of Calatrava, his Milwaukee Art Museum (my personal favorite of the three posts, as I captured the “wings” in flight as per the pictures above), and then a close-up of Dublin’s Samuel Beckett bridge under construction.

Number 4: Before I started my Saturday Music series, I would occasionally write 2-3 posts with reviews from a music festival or with a focus on some other musical theme. It was one such series—the “Music Fit to a T” posts that highlighted songs with “Tennessee” in the title—that produced The Brand New Tennessee Waltz at number 4 on the list. If you are interested in what other songs were featured in this series, they were John Hiatt’s Tennessee Platesalong with Bob Dylan’s Nashville Skyline RagYes, I know it doesn’t technically have the state’s name in its title, but it is my series, so who’s quibbling.

Lake at Mohonk Mountain House by Claire
Taking the plunge off the high board at the lake at Mohonk Mountain House (photo credit: Claire Brown)

Number 3: I’ve been privileged to travel over many parts of the U.S. and the world. Few places touch me like Mohonk Mountain House. I’ve been to this historic mountain resort for business meetings, for family trips, and for an anniversary, and no matter the season it always has something to offer my soul. In this particular post, I recount how my friend Nina Smiley gave a wonderful talk, full of tales of twin Quaker brothers establishing this hotel, but naming it the Mohonk Mountain House to avoid the unsavory reputation hotels and inns held in their day. Over 141 years of ownership by the Smiley family, Mohonk has remained “the same…only better” to use Nina’s words.

Dale Chihuly Art Work

Number 2:  In 2010, I was on a business tour that included trips to see the work of glass artist Dale Chihuly in both Seattle and Tacoma, Washington. I tried to use the photographs to show the vibrant colors of his work in those settings, and they seem to have captured the attention of a number of visitors over the years. I was glad to be able to share my experience more widely.

And finally, coming in at Number 1 in terms of all-time views (drumroll please):

Monument Valley
Goulding’s View at Monument Valley (photo credit: Claire Brown)

Monument Valley — It is so appropriate that the post with the most views goes back to the reason this blog was started—our western vacation in 2008. It is also clear that my beautiful prose has absolutely nothing to do with this ranking. Instead, our daughter Claire’s evocative black and white photograph from Goulding, taken on her old-fashioned 35mm camera and printed out by hand for a photography class, is the reason so many people find their way to More to Come. 

There are many other posts in the top 25 which I’ve been proud to share with my readers through the years, such as stories on the Americana musical festival Merlefest; baseball quotes (the best kind) from the Philadelphia Phillies 2008 World Series win; 90 things about the wonderful life of my father, Tom Brown, on the occasion of his 90th birthday; and my 60 Lessons from 60 Yearswritten in 2015 on my 60th birthday. But they’ll have to wait to see if they make it into the top 10 when I get to the 2,500th post!

As always, thanks so much for reading, for your thoughtful feedback, and for your support through the years.

More to come…

DJB