Truck Stops in Mississippi

 

I’d been listening to medieval Spanish music.  “The Chronological list of Spanish classical composers” page they have on Wiki that has twenty or more composers listed there under the headings:  Renaissance, Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Modern Contemporary.  I’d been enjoying my time with the Renaissance and then the Baroque but after having my fill of choral and church organ I leapt ahead two centuries.  Juan Crisóstomo Arriaga has a friendly face and he lived only twenty years it seems from 1806 till 1826.  Apparently, a childhood prodigy who shared a birthday with Mozart.  I’m listening to him now.

Later today we will all fly to Spain.  That should be interesting.  It’s been over two years since we’ve done anything like this as a family.  A road trip, earlier in the summer was certainly time away from New Paltz, but the truck stops in Mississippi are only so different from the one’s in New York.  Spanish truck stops, one assumes will be notably distinct.  This time tomorrow I’ll be riding along the highway en route from the Madrid Airport to Toledo.  My first gas stop probably won’t be till the next day when we head off to Cordoba. 

 

It’s finally cool outside today.  A regal, sunny afternoon there’s hardly any reason at all to leave.  Everything is welcoming and lovely.  But we’re going to go, as we’ve always done.  I was just off the phone with my dad.  We’re meeting him at my brothers and then he’s driving us nearby to Newark and returning the car back up here.  Good man that.  My mom and her husband will be here any minute.  They have offered to help water my wife’s garden.  There is nothing more important for her.  They have also, been willing to help look after my older one’s leopard gecko Barrack. She cares for him greatly and this is all above and beyond the call of duty. 

They came.  I showed them where we’re staying.  They learned the garden watering preferences.  I moved the terrarium to the back of their car.  We talked at length, sarcastically about just where in my mother’s house it would ideal for this terrarium to rest.  My stepdad, the biologist is up for the task.  My mom, upon whose lap we placed the aluminum foil tray and top within which Barrack stood staring and we considered how uncomfortable she appeared.  And they're off.  And we’ll leave too now, in about ninety minutes.  Lee Morgan’s “The Rajah” is playing so beautifully in that way that only . . . and I looked to check but it isn’t Herbie Hancock on the keys and Wayne Shorter on tenor.  It’s Cedar Walton and Hank Mobley who form just another version of a classic quintet.

 

 

 

Sunday, 08/15/21