Tag Archives: Christopher Columbus

Da Gama, Vasco

Da Gama, Vasco: (c.1469–1524), Portuguese explorer

There was a hundred-year time span in Europe when explorers were as plentiful as singers auditioning for American Idol.

It suddenly became popular to beg for money for an expedition crew, to set off to the west in search of fulfilling adventures and new lands.

Since there were so many of these itinerant fortune seekers, it’s difficult to remember them individually.

Christopher Columbus certainly fared well in that category.

Henry Hudson is noted (by having a river named after him).

Cortez came along to try to explain the difference between the Inca and the Mayans.

And Coronado is mentioned by every tour guide in Arizona, illuminating the crowd about the history of the Grand Canyon.

That brings us to poor Da Gama.

He, too, was an adventurer, a captain of a ship, a man of daring and do. He sailed around the Cape of Good Hope, making it clear why someday a better path needed to be found.

He had a cool name, though.

Whereas Hudson had Henry and Columbus had Christopher, Da Gama had Vasco.

So even though you may not remember his deeds or be able to recite the extent of his itinerary, the name “Vasco” will probably stick in your mind for a long time.

It is a humbling lesson to us all—that we journey through this life and we do many things, most of which will soon be forgotten.

So keep in mind—to have an unusual name which just might spark future bored fifth-grade students who are forced to peruse the Internet during their “discovery of America history lesson” and are suddenly drawn to you…

…because your name is something like Vasco instead of Benny-Boy.

 

Clef

Clef: (n) a sign placed at the beginning of a musical staff to determine the pitch of the notes.

Back in the day when Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue, if a young man wanted to be a seafaring fellow, he had to sign up on one of the boats and stay on it throughout its journey, so at the end of the process, if he survived all the perils and diseases, he could be
considered a grizzled, rugged seaman.

Although the analogy may be a poor fit, such a journey was mine with music.

I signed up to travel the sea of notes and time signatures, but after three years of practicing my piano, I decided it was “girly-girl” and I quit in favor of a football helmet and a mouthpiece.

Yet I never lost interest in the instrument. I especially found it conducive to wooing young ladies, who were more impressed with someone who was tuneful than someone who could tackle.

Here was my problem: since I didn’t complete the journey on the “Good Ship Music” and learn all the information and comprehend the significance of each and every clef, I sometimes found myself temporarily appearing inadequate. I learned to exaggerate and lie.

So when my musical companion showed up twenty-two years ago, to join me in the construction of original compositions, I was quickly exposed by this lady with a Master’s in Music, to be less-than-adept at both terminology and technology.

I had to come clean.

I had to explain to her that I could read the notes, but when my right hand and right eye tried to join with my left hand and left eye to play both bass and treble clefs, I suddenly developed a severe case of “fumbleitis.”

Because I was honest, she was very merciful. She let me pace myself at a realistic rate based upon my true ability.

And like the young man who got on the ship to sail the Seven Seas, who decided to stay on at the first port because he favored the local rum over the ocean run, I, too, have to admit my lack of tenacity.

But because I hung around, listened, observed and learned–and was blessed to be in the presence of a really patient partner–it now appears that I have a good understanding of the working end of a clef.

 

Donate Button

Bullshit

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bullshit: (n) stupid or untrue talk

Not everything is bullshit.

Matter of fact, one great step toward maturity is realizing that many of the things we believe today will change in the future, and maybe even disappear.

After all, ignorance is not the absence of knowledge, but rather, the refusal to accept it.

All of us are ignorant in the sense that there are things we don’t know, but we will not be deemed ignorant in the future if we’re willing to step away from piles of bullshit and find the truth that has been proven.

Whether it’s our politics, our education, our profession or our faith, each one should be able to endure the evolution of new data, which further clarifies life on Planet Earth.

If your beliefs or your convictions need to ridicule an educated revelation, you are no longer a follower of truth, but a shoveler of bullshit.

Each one of us needs to acknowledge this, or we become either dangerous or obnoxious, or an annoying blending of the pair.

Many good folk in 1491, who were well-schooled and religious, were convinced that the world was flat. Several years later, when it was proven to be round, the truly intelligent rolled with the punches and realized that science was not destroyed by the revelation, nor was God shrunk.

The ones who continued to contend that the Earth was shaped like a cracker had to promote their bullshit ad nauseam.

How can you tell if you’ve become a bullshitter?

There is a tiny little bell that rings in the human soul when we hear something that resounds with the truth.

Stop muffling the bell.

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Atlas

Atlas: (n) a book of maps or chartsdictionary with letter A

My traveling companion is not cleared for maps.

Whenever I get the coinage together to contact Mr. Rand and see if he can get together with Father McNally and make me a paper traveling plan for my journeys, I then have to take that gift and place it in the hands of a woman who finds innumerable ways of mutilating the offering.

It’s probably because she uses the map so much, but in no time at all, they’re dog-eared, ripped, chewed up and even sometimes have pages missing, making Old Glory consist of 41 states.

I have comically thought to myself how dangerous it would have been for her to be on the Santa Maria with Columbus, as he requested a guiding chart to get him to his destination, to have her hand him a gnawed page of parchment with missing pieces.

Perhaps we would all still be in Europe and the American Indians would be hunting buffalo … if my partner had been the cartographer for Christopher Columbus.

 

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Akron

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Akron: (n) a city in northeastern Ohio; population 217,074. Noted as a center for the rubber industry, the first rubber factory was established there in 1870 by B. F. Goodrich.

It was a process called “vulcanization,” which had absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Spock or mind melding. I know very little about it–except that tires for cars are the blessed by-product.

But for me, Akron has a very different association.

On a Tuesday night, I drove the 116 miles from my home to a little coffeehouse in Akron called The Avalon. I was young, foolish, energetic and very viable, which was cancelled out by my penchant for stupid decisions.

I had just started a music group and we were looking for anywhere to perform, where people would listen for a few moments and hopefully praise us for our efforts instead of giving us the benefit of needful critique.

The Avalon coffeehouse agreed to let us come and sing a couple of songs, so we were ecstatic. I knew nothing about this venue. As it turned out, it was one of those spiritual youth hostels, where people under the age of thirty gathered to teeter in an existence in spirituality would not totally disrupt their carnal pursuits.

On the other hand, my little group consisted of small-town-America high school graduates who had all the travel sensibilities of Christopher Columbus heading for the West Indies but settling for the Caribbean.

So the first thing we did was dress up for the occasion. All I owned was a fancy dress coat with a shirt and tie. The two girls traveling with me had their prom dresses from the previous year, and felt they shouldn’t go to waste, so why not wear them to the Avalon?We also traveled with a young hobbit-looking oboe player, who wore glasses which resembled goggles from a steel mill.

So you can imagine the surprise of the young hippies at The Avalon, dressed in blue jeans and hemp blouses and shirts, with bare feet, when the prom king and his two queens showed up.

Even though there was a pending snicker in the air, to their credit, the patrons set aside their bigotry and gave an ear to “Goober and the two Gooberettes.”

We sang a song called “Jesus Generation,” which was about the corniest thing I’ve ever written, and a rendition of the Beatitudes called “Blessed,” which had a prelude played on the oboe suitable for chamber orchestras in the Mozart era.

We survived.

Matter of fact, there was a level of appreciation–perhaps mainly for our courage in showing up–which warmed my heart.

And to top the evening off, for the first time in my life, the hat was passed and we left that small gathering with $33.25, believing we were successful prospectors from Sutter’s Mill.

I don’t know what they said about us after we left. It doesn’t matter. But for one night, cultures clashed without the need for violence, ridicule or debate.

It is how I will always remember Akron.

It is the blessing I received at The Avalon.