Holiday??? . . .

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(from https://www.history.com/news/6-surprising-facts-about-st-valentine)
1. The St. Valentine who inspired the holiday may have been two different men.
Officially recognized by the Roman Catholic Church, St. Valentine is known to be a real person who died around A.D. 270. However, his true identity was questioned as early as A.D. 496 by Pope Gelasius I. . .  One account from the 1400s describes Valentine as a temple priest who was beheaded near Rome by the emperor Claudius II for helping Christian couples wed. A different account claims Valentine was the Bishop of Terni, also martyred by Claudius II on the outskirts of Rome.

2. In all, there are about a dozen St. Valentines, plus a pope. . .
The official Roman Catholic roster of saints shows about a dozen who were named Valentine or some variation thereof.

3. Valentine is the patron saint of beekeepers and epilepsy, among many other things.

4. You can find Valentine’s skull in Rome.

5. English poet Geoffrey Chaucer may have invented Valentine’s Day. . .
No record exists of romantic celebrations on Valentine’s Day prior to a poem Chaucer wrote around 1375. In his work “Parliament of Foules,” he links a tradition of courtly love with the celebration of St. Valentine’s feast day–an association that didn’t exist until after his poem received widespread attention.

6. You can celebrate Valentine’s Day several times a year. . .
you might decide to celebrate St. Valentine of Viterbo on November 3. Or . . . St. Valentine of Raetia on January 7. . . (or) the only female St. Valentine (Valentina), a virgin martyred in Palestine on July 25, A.D. 308. The Eastern Orthodox Church officially celebrates St. Valentine twice, once as an elder of the church on July 6 and once as a martyr on July 30.

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Not Too Shabby . . .

. . . a wish . . .

(from HTTP://THEOTHERCLOSET-ATHEISM.BLOGSPOT.COM/2009/12/19-ATHEISTS-CHRISTMAS-PRAYER.HTML)
This Christmas, I pray that the struggle over the “true meaning” of the holiday is wiped away, replaced by the desire to honor what Christmas means to you and not to your neighbors.
I pray that we as a nation can learn to put aside the party lines and shields of segregation to leave the world better than we found it.
I pray that we as a race can learn to prosper without greed, without indifference.
I pray that the good times outweigh the bad, and that we enter the lives of those we are lucky enough to encounter with the grace and respect that everyone deserves, regardless of their status, regardless of our creed.
I pray we wake up one day with the recognition that – black or white, rich or poor, religious or not – we all want the same things, even if we disagree on how best to achieve them.
I pray that those who need shelter will find it.
I pray that those in pain will find an end to suffering.
I pray for peace.
I pray for hope.
Most of all, I pray that tomorrow will be better than it was today.
For all of us.

Celebration . . .

(from Joseph and His Brothers by Thomas Mann, translation by John E. Woods)
". . . the official swelling of the Nile was celebrated in all the land of Egypt, and most especially in Nowet-Amun, Wase of the Hundred Gates, with a gala solemnity that one can imagine only if one keeps in mind our own greatest and most tumultuous national, popular, and patriotic holidays.  The entire city was out and about from earliest morning on, and the huge population - far exceeding a hundred thousand, as we know - was vastly increased by swarms of country folk from both upriver and down, who streamed in through the gates to join in the celebration of Amun's great day in the city where the imperial god resided, and who now mixed with the city people to hop on one leg and gaze with mouths agape at glorious and majestic spectacles presented by the state to an overtaxed and overworked peasantry in compensation for a whole year's gray penury and as a means of strengthening them in their patriotism for the drudgery of the year now dawning.  As part of a great sweating crowd, their noses filled with the aroma of burning fat and mountains of flowers, they thronged temples provisioned for the holiday with immense quantities of food and drink and filled those radiantly colorful forecourts plastered with alabaster, covered by awnings and tents, an echoing with pious hymns, where they could stuff their bellies for once at the expense of the god - or actually, of those higher powers who oppressed and swindled them all the rest of the year, but today smiled upon with prodigal beneficence - and thus, against their better judgment, be lulled in the belief that it would always be so, that with this turning point of celebration and delight, the golden age of free beer and roasted goose had dawned the they would never again be visited by scribes demanding payment and accompanied by Nubians armed with bundled rods of palm . . . "

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Strange . . .

. . . but compelling . . .


(from http://www.npr.org/2012/09/05/158933012/the-strange-story-of-the-man-behind-strange-fruit)
One of Billie Holiday's most iconic songs is "Strange Fruit," a haunting protest against the inhumanity of racism. Many people know that the man who wrote the song was inspired by a photograph of a lynching. But they might not realize that he's also tied to another watershed moment in America's history.

The man behind "Strange Fruit" is New York City's Abel Meeropol, and he really has two stories. They both begin at Dewitt Clinton High School, a public high school in the Bronx that has an astonishing number of famous people in its alumni. James Baldwin went there. So did Countee Cullen, Richard Rodgers, Burt Lancaster, Stan Lee, Neil Simon, Richard Avedon and Ralph Lauren.

Meeropol graduated from Dewitt Clinton in 1921; he went on to teach English there for 17 years. He was also a poet and a social activist, says Gerard Pelisson, who wrote a book about the school.

In the late 1930s, Pellison says, Meeropol "was very disturbed at the continuation of racism in America, and seeing a photograph of a lynching sort of put him over the edge."

Meeropol once said the photograph "haunted" him "for days." So he wrote a poem about it, which was then printed in a teachers union publication. An amateur composer, Meeropol also set his words to music. He played it for a New York club owner — who ultimately gave it to Billie Holiday.

When Holiday decided to sing "Strange Fruit," the song reached millions of people. While the lyrics never mention lynching, the metaphor is painfully clear:

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

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OHO's "Ocean City Ditty," the CD single is now available at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/oho4
(and, if you're in town, at Trax On Wax on Frederick Rd. in Catonsville, MD) OHO is Jay Graboski, David Reeve & Ray Jozwiak.  Please Visit http://www.ohomusic.com 


My latest solo offering, Just More Music by Ray Jozwiak, featuring original, instrumental piano music is now available at - Just More Music by Ray Jozwiak

(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
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Give and Take . . .

(from http://www.courant.com/entertainment/hc-winter-history-giftgiving,0,2002289.story)
By 1860, the New York Evening Post said Christmas in New York was an embarrassment of the riches that made holiday shopping more difficult and time-consuming. Most of December was spent preparing and shopping for Christmas.

The ``American,'' a journal published in 1887, asked: ``What is Christmas for? Not to enrich the shopkeepers.'' Instead, the journal argued that Christmas should be a time of worship, reunion and ``old- fashioned sports.''

Even before the 1800s, merchants were encouraging the nation's colonial culture to copy the aristocratic holiday observance of genteel gift-giving.

During the mid-1800s, entrepreneurs seized the opportunity to sell holiday trinkets and gifts in the streets, from carts and stalls. Visionaries of the modern consumer culture, from P.T. Barnum to R.H. Macy, knew how to sell Christmas to the middle-class consumer.

Children, in particular, liked this way of celebrating Christmas. It was around 1840 that children began to hang their stockings by the fireplace, according to the Connecticut Historical Society. About 20 years later, Santa became every child's hero with such 1860 stories as ``The Night Before Christmas.''

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Bah . . .

. . . ancient  humbug!


Saturnalia was a public holiday celebrated around December 25 in the family home long before the common era and the cult of Saturn survived in Mediterranean locale such as the province of Constantine, somewhere in present day Algeria until the third century CE. The Saturnalia celebrations were annual events well into a century after Constantine's, the first 'Christian' Emperor's reign.  During its popularity, the length of the celebration ranged from two to seven days. 

The earliest known reference to December 25th commemorating the birth of Christ is in the Roman Philocalian calendar of 354 CE. The same day also appears in the Philocalian calendar as a Roman civil holiday honoring the cult of sol invicta, originating in Syria and relating to the cult of Mithras.

Buying gifts to celebrate Christmas is steeped in tradition, dating to the 1820s when newspapers began to advertise items for Christmas presents.

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. . . and it's getting blacker. . .

Very soon, a tremendous number of the earth's population will observe a 'celebration' of the birth of a possibly historical Palestinian Jew over 2,000 years ago, to whom the origin of a mega-religious institution (and philosophy) is attributed.  This person, whether truly historical or not,  totally human or some combination of spiritual, human, super-human, affected all humanity in the civilized (or semi-civilized) world that followed in some way or another.

What better way to celebrate this occasion than to . . . go shopping?????!!!!!!

(from NBC News.com)
". . . To those who spend the Friday following Thanksgiving doing things like spending time with family, or working, or volunteering, or attempting to construct the world's greatest turkey leftover sandwich, Black Friday devotees are a mystery. Yes, an estimated 147 million Americans plan to go shopping sometime this weekend, according the National Retail Federation. But who are these people, what's the psychology driving them to rise before dawn in pursuit of a deal -- and have they really never heard of online shopping?

"The deals are part of it, but I don't think it's the bigger piece of it," says Jane Thomas, a professor of marketing at Winthrop University in Rock Hill, S.C. "This is the family ritual, as much as eating turkey and dressing is -- it's going shopping as the start of the holiday season together.". . . "

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Point. . .

I think sometimes, probably more so during the year-end holiday season (Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years for all of the 'religiously-persecuted') that we as a species have arrived at a particularly crucial point in our development.

On the one hand,  the more educated and sophisticated we become, the greater our preoccupation with our self-realization.  As this takes place, we find ourselves less involved with the intricacies of our extended families.  In fact, sometimes we find that while we love the members of our extended family we don't, in truth, like them as much as other, more-similarly (within the realms of intellectual, artistic, political, and humanitarian areas) disposed people.

So as we attain greater freedom, movement, awareness and development, we lose the commitment, duty, obligation to care for our family members who, in tribal times long gone, we would have spent our entire lives with- day in and day out.

I don't know what or where the happy medium between these two extremes exists.  I most certainly understand and appreciate the value of existence at both ends of this spectrum.

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Everybody digs. . .

William John Evans, known as Bill Evans (August 16, 1929–September 15, 1980)

His use of impressionist harmony, inventive interpretation of traditional jazz repertoire, and trademark rhythmically independent, "singing" melodic lines influenced a generation of pianists. He is considered by some to be the most influential post-World War II jazz pianist. Evans had a distinct playing style in which his neck would often be stooped very low, and his face parallel to the piano.

Evans's first professional job was with sax player Herbie Fields's band, based in Chicago. During the summer of 1950, the band did a three-month tour backing Billie Holiday, including East Coast appearances at Harlem's Apollo Theater and shows in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and at Washington D.C.'s Howard Theater. In addition to Fields and Evans, the band included trumpeter Jimmy Nottingham, trombonist Frank Rosolino and bassist Jim Aton. Upon its return to Chicago, Evans and Aton worked as a duo in Chicago clubs, often backing singer Lurlean Hunter. Shortly thereafter, Evans received his draft notice and entered the U.S. Army. After his army service, Evans returned to New York and worked at nightclubs with jazz clarinetist Tony Scott and other leading players. Later, he took postgraduate studies in composition at the Mannes College of Music, where he also mentored younger music students.


Working in New York in the 1950s, Evans gained recognition as a sideman in traditional and so-called Third Stream jazz groups. During this period he had the opportunity to record in many different contexts with some of the best jazz musicians of the time. Seminal recordings made with composer/theoretician George Russell, including "Concerto for Billy the Kid" and "All About Rosie," are notable for Evans's solo work. Evans also appeared on notable albums by Charles Mingus, Oliver Nelson, Tony Scott, and Art Farmer. In 1956, he made his debut album, New Jazz Conceptions, featuring the original version of "Waltz for Debby," for Riverside Records. Producer Orrin Keepnews was convinced to record the reluctant Evans by a demo tape guitarist Mundell Lowe played to him over the phone.

In 1958, Evans was hired by Miles Davis, becoming the only white member of Davis's famed sextet. Though his time with the band was brief (no more than eight months), it was one of the most fruitful collaborations in the history of jazz, as Evans's introspective approach to improvisation deeply influenced Davis's style.

At the turn of the decade, Evans led a trio with bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Paul Motian. This group was to become one of the most acclaimed piano trios — and jazz bands in general — of all time. With this group, Evans's focus settled on traditional jazz standards and original compositions, with an added emphasis on interplay among the band members that often bordered on collective improvisation, blurring the line between soloist and accompanist. The collaboration between Evans and the young LaFaro was particularly fruitful, as the two achieved a remarkable level of musical empathy. The trio recorded four albums: Portrait in Jazz (1959); and Explorations, Sunday at the Village Vanguard, and Waltz for Debby, all recorded in 1961. The last two albums are live recordings from the same recording date, and are routinely named among the greatest jazz recordings of all time. In 2005, the full sets were collected on the three-CD set The Complete Village Vanguard Recordings, 1961. There is also a lesser-known recording of this trio, Live at Birdland, taken from radio broadcasts in early 1960, though the sound quality is poor.

(from Wikipedia.com)

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Gee, Thanks!. . .

. . . Most holidays really bother me. It's just me. Many times I feel like we set aside a special day, we give it a name, we develop a tradition involving some specific ceremonial details like fireworks, trees, gifts and always food (one the better parts of the process). But the purpose of the observance is usually to honor, remember, be thankful for someone or something for which honor, remembrance or thanks should be a regular part of our lives. I don't know, it just seems like we pull it out of a drawer or closet every year, dust it off and play with it for a day, then put it away to be forgotten until next time- usually a year later. Is 'contrived' the word I'm looking for.

This is why I have a particular dislike of what I usually call the "Hallmark" holidays. You know them, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Babies Day, Doggie Day and Dog Day Afternoon. . . the list goes on. And my dislike developed in my early adult years. I have (had) no problem acknowledging and thanking my Mother, for example, for all her love, care and sacrifice devoted to me and the whole family. But after childhood and all fun of picking out that greeting card, I began to think that it was a bit shallow, or should I say narrow, to whip out this gratitude only one day a year. I think it diminished the magnitude of the very thing it attempted to honor by confining it neatly to one day and conveniently making the greeting card (and in some cases, a complete industry so money could be made-which is another story completely) to commemorate the occasion.

I'm not saying I ignore these 'holidays' or special days. I would be a complete outcast if I tried. (And my wife would probably divorce me.) They are, as it is said, what they are. I do try to make the best of them but still voice my thanks, gratitude, love, honor etc. to or about the things about which I feel very strongly throughout the entire year and not singly on the 'one' day designated.

And on this Thanksgiving day, since I agree with John Shelby Spong that there is no person-like God who is intimately invested in the minutiae of human life and to whom I am obliged to offer these thanks for fear of punishment or desire of a heavenly afterlife, I offer my thanks directly to the sources to whom I am grateful. First and foremost, my best friend, love of my life, housemate, soulmate, co-parent of our wonderful sons- my wife Pam. Thanks Hon! (Yes, I'm from Baltimore) And this year I am thinking about some old friends who probably not fully aware of the influence they exerted upon me during certain periods of my development, have now re-entered my life and have brought back not only wonderful memories, have brought a new dimension to my present life, Clint and Jay.

Gee, Thanks.





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