Tag Archives: singers

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.

 

Choir

Choir: (n) an organized group of singers

I found that being in a choir squashed my desire to be heard. Yes, you have to be willing to blend.

Matter of fact, they talk about “the blend”–that particular sound that a group of singers makes which is supposedly unique unto them.

It is fairly restrictive. Even the names are:

The Mormon Tabernacle Choir: “To sing, I have to be Mormon, get directions to the tabernacle, and then hide my voice among other song birds. I am en-caged.”

I felt this in high school.

When I quit the football team because I discovered they made fat boys run, I realized that my second-greatest interest other than tackling running backs was singing. It seemed logical to join the choir, since that was the avenue afforded to me on the thoroughfare of musical expression.

I hated choir. Nobody could hear me sing. They commented on “the blend,” or applauded the musical director, or noted how the robes looked so good.

It drove me nuts.

So in rehearsal one day, in a fit of rebellion and pending insanity, I just started singing another song from my standing position in the choir, while the rest of the parakeets tweeted out the prepared number.

My voice was strong, but certainly not powerful enough to overcome the mass musical. But it was annoying enough that the director kept tilting her head, leaning in with squinting eyes, trying to determine what was disrupting her “blend.” I just kept singing a different song–a little quieter, but with enough volume to create frustration on the face of the conductor.

After a few moments, she took her baton and tapped it violently against the music stand, stopping the proceedings.

“Is everybody singing the same song?” she bellowed to the gathered.

Those standing closest to me, who heard my little interpretation, turned in unison and gazed in my direction.

I was caught. The director peered at me intensely and said, “Were you singing a different song?”

I paused–not so much to make it seem like I was making up a story, but just to express my alarm. Then I replied, “I thought we were doing Number Eight in the program.”

I don’t think she believed me, but she played along.

“No,” she said. “It’s Number Seven. I’m sorry if I did not make that clear.”

“You’re forgiven,” I replied in my snootiest voice.

She nearly lost all sensibility. Glaring at me, she said tersely, “Thank you.”

We resumed singing, and I couldn’t help myself. Once we had gotten a chorus of the song in, I reverted back to my former tune, which was completely alternative to “the blend.”

This time she stopped and used her baton to point toward the door as she screamed, “Get outta here!”

There were giggles and whispers as I made my way out, escaping the class. Fortunately for me, she was not specific about where I should get–so since I was told to be punished, I just went early to have a leisurely lunch.

 

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Aspect

Aspect: (n) a particular part or feature of something. dictionary with letter A

Singers should be happy.

Even though I am fully aware there are sad songs, at the end of performing such a dirge, there should be a return to hopeful joy and happiness. It is an aspect of their character which must be manifested in order for them to be of value to the human tribe.

In like manner:

Accountants should be good with numbers. It would be nice if they weren’t grouchy. But since I don’t want to number crunch all the time, the aspect of their character that I am most interested in is accuracy.

We have become too complacent in accepting mediocre ideas simply because we’ve given up on the possibility of things being right.

Politicians should be forthcoming. Just because they aren’t does not mean that we shouldn’t continue to expect that aspect.

Preachers should be non-judgmental and full of the gospel of hope. Honestly, damn them if they’re any other way.

Mothers and fathers should instill confidence in their children instead of forcing them to rebel out of too much worry and interference.

Christmas should be celebrated with joy instead of beleaguered with droll souls who want to point out how “it can really be a sad time of the year.”

There are certain aspects of our journey which need to remain faithful to the common cause of sanity. Otherwise we will begin to accept the banal as the normal.

I am a writer. It is my job to inspire.  To hell with the notion that I’m presenting a dark reality which is the underbelly of society.

It is time for us to enlighten one another instead of extinguishing the fires of hope … pretending it is an action of intellectual maturity.

 

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

Agenda

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgenda: (n) 1. a list of items or subjects to be considered at a meeting 2. determination of a program of action

  • Republicans want less government.
  • Democrats want more government.
  • Conservatives want to conserve.
  • Liberals want to be more liberal in their choices.
  • Baptists want to baptize.
  • Catholics want to take care of their religious obligation.
  • Buddhists want to meditate.
  • Bankers want to make money.
  • Wall Street wants to make money and also take it away from others.
  • Women want equal rights.
  • Men want sex rights.
  • Children want to play.
  • Drug dealers want to sell their product.
  • Politicians want your vote.
  • Actors want a job and praise.
  • Singers want applause and to sing.
  • Old people want more health care.
  • Young people want more fun.
  • Sailors want a boat.
  • Pilots want a plane.
  • Soldiers want action and their pay.
  • Hippies want peace.
  • Jews want Jerusalem.
  • Muslims want Jerusalem–without Jews.
  • Terrorists want their demands.
  • Dogs want a bone.
  • Cats want to do whatever they want to do.
  • Football players want a touchdown.
  • Baseball players want a homer.
  • A hockey player wants his teeth.

In a world where everybody has an agenda, we must understand that we are at the mercy of the ploys of society–UNLESS we are aware of the aspirations of others and try our best to arrive on the scene without too many pre-conceived ideas.

Is it possible to have an agenda to not have an agenda?

Doesn’t that just make you a contradiction in terms?