Three things from DAH.

 

 

I grew up in a home full of books. There were many dense and aged hardcover tomes that were daunting (to a ten-year-old). There were many cheap and cheerful paperbacks, too. I began with Puffin imprint children's books and felt very proud when I started on the more adult Penguin imprint books (before those imprints became a part of Bertelsmann, the German media conglomerate. When I became a Penguin reader I put Puffin childishness aside. I recently came across a colorful wallet my Mum acquired on trip with us to Ireland. It's decorated with puffins. Mum's colorful wallet puffins instantly propelled my mind back to simpler childhood days and the pride I took graduating from Puffin to Penguin. "I'm a big boy, now."

 

I've written previously about issues I have with labels and lingo: They tend to oversimplify and drive wedges of social separation. But I do confess, I've tumbled down the personality profiling rabbit hole myself. Today, I can't remember whether the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator labeled me ESTP or INFJ. When I remember that I don't remember I'm momentarily spurred to check it out. But I always stop myself, these days. I understand the attraction of finding myself a box to live in, a simple way to identify and explain myself. I understand the attraction, but I don't want to succumb. It's more important, for me, to seek out the complexities and gray areas in myself and others. 

 

A favorite wine book, a bit dated now, is The Heartbreak Grape, by Marq De Villiers. It's the story of winemaker Josh Jensen's quest to make great Pinot Noir in the unlikely limestone soils of his Calera estate near Hollister, California. Pinot Noir is a challenging varietal. When it's good it can be very good. When it's bad, it's horrid. And it isn't always easy to understand which it is and why. Generally speaking, Pinot Noir makes an aromatic, lighter-colored red wine with modest tannic astringency. Some places where winemakers have good success with the variety: Burgundy (France), Willamette Valley (Oregon), Anderson Valley and Sonoma Coast (California). But even these favored locations can deliver clunkers, and the good stuff is usually quite expensive. I've participated in so many Pinot Noir tastings, only to find none I would buy. I remember tasting with a colleague who suggested, "Number three isn't bad" (we were tasting blind -- not knowing which wine was which). I replied, "It smells like stewed tomatoes" (likely too ripe, or too warm a vineyard location or growing season). To this day he remembers that. "You spoiled so many Pinot Noirs for me."

 

And a bit more: An influential poem from my childhood.

 

by A. A. Milne

 

James James

Morrison Morrison

Weatherby George Dupree

Took great

Care of his Mother

Though he was only three.

James James

Said to his Mother,

"Mother," he said, said he;

"You must never go down to the end of the town, if you don't go down with me."

James James

Morrison's Mother

Put on a golden gown,

James James

Morrison's Mother

Drove to the end of the town.

James James

Morrison's Mother

Said to herself, said she:

"I can get right down to the end of the town and be back in time for tea."

King John

Put up a notice,

"LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!

JAMES JAMES

MORRISON'S MOTHER

SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID.

LAST SEEN

WANDERING VAGUELY

QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD,

SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN TO THE END OF

THE TOWN - FORTY SHILLINGS REWARD!

 

James James

Morrison Morrison

(Commonly known as Jim)

Told his

Other relations

Not to go blaming him.

James James

Said to his Mother,

"Mother," he said, said he,

"You must never go down to the end of the town without consulting me."

 

James James

Morrison's Mother

Hasn't been heard of since.

King John

Said he was sorry,

So did the Queen and Prince.

King John

(Somebody told me)

Said to a man he knew:

"If people go down to the end of the town, well, what can anyone do?"

(Now then, very softly)

J. J.

M. M.

W. G. du P.

Took great

C/O his M*****

Though he was only 3.

J. J.

Said to his M*****

"M*****," he said, said he:

"You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-if-you-don't-go-down-with ME!"  

 

And that's all for this week.

From Mary Oliver’s poem "Sometimes" …  

Instructions for living a life:

 

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