Prince Albert’s Message for Friday

Prince Albert watches in silence,

Contemplation all day long, 

Yet he, like us,

Is never truly alone.

What Endures

Last weekend I was able to start work on a blog entry about the Royal Albert Hall, my favorite music group, and the Daleks, which I’ll finish up and share with you this weekend.  As for last Sunday…phew!  Due to Church, the long drive home, and the stops along the way, I didn’t get any writing done.  Normally I fear breaking off for even a day.  Might the exhaustion linger, and defy my efforts to catch up with last week's trains of thought?

Monday morning, given my exhausted state, I considered breaking my vow to blog everyday if I possibly could.  I had no real plans for what to say.  Yet from my fatigued mind sprouted a three-pronged blog entry, which has served as the foundation for this week’s series.  I usually regard planning as essential in any endeavor.  It's nice to know that innovation can occur when you least expect it.  I’ve been relatively pleased with this series of musings, and I hope you’ve enjoyed them too.  If not, don’t worry: something approaching regular service will resume tomorrow.  

Today’s portion of the inscription on the Royal Albert Hall reads:

The site was purchased with the proceeds of the Great Exhibition of the year MDCCCLI. The first stone of the Hall was laid by Her Majesty Queen Victoria on the twentieth day of May MDCCCLXVII and it was opened by Her Majesty the Twenty Ninth of March in the year MDCCCLXXI.

Foresight and planning

Laying a secure foundation

A structure that has endured.

How have the plans for your life matured to this point?  Did you lay the proper foundation?  Is what you have built capable of withstanding changes, and even profiting by them?

Dragon Dave

Prince Albert’s Message for Thursday

I wonder if he's solid,
Or concrete painted gold.
Maybe he's really chocolate.
Let's peel away the wrapper
And find out.

Two Voices Raised in Song

Despite all my experience and training, my voice no longer works as readily as I would like.  Perhaps it’s heredity.  Maybe it’s sinus drainage, or simply lack of use.  After all, as I work on my own, I have no reason to talk or sing to myself. 

Not that I don’t occasionally talk--or even sing--to myself, but that’s neither here nor there.  Nor do I talk about how I talk to myself: that would be too introspective!  

Whatever the reason, I no longer look forward to singing in Church.  Sometimes, I can’t even manage conversation without sounding all crackly.  This fact, along with my writing, doesn’t help me remember my Speech Therapist’s instructions and practice my vocal exercises.  So I arrived at my mother’s house without having practiced a song for Sunday.

Linda kindly offered to sing with me, and we practiced twice on Saturday with my mother.  Still, as we stood before the congregation, I worried: would I project clear tones, or merely crackle. 

Humility forbids I offer you a review of our singing.  The pastor seemed to enjoy our duet though.  As we returned to our seats, he quipped, “Do you have any CDs available?  At lunch a number of us invaded a local restaurant.  There, he asked, “How many CDs have you made?”  Then to me: “Do you lead the singing at your church?  You should!”  Of course, he repeated his kind offer that we were welcome to return and sing any time.

I’m not used to thinking of my voice as special.  Perhaps I run with the wrong crowd.  Or maybe some people are just more appreciative than others.  All of us have unique talents and abilities, even if we don’t perceive them.  For each gift, there must be a community who would respond to what we have to offer.  It’s up to us to find them. 

In serving them, we are likewise blessed.  (Not that the latter's a consideration.  Right?)

Now, on with Prince Albert’s message for today.  I don’t have a photo for the remaining inscription on the Royal Albert Hall, but it carries on from yesterday with:

"And works of all nations in fulfillment
of the intention of Albert Prince Consort."

So what do we have?

Prince Albert desires

The advancement of all nations

Through their works.

What?  He's not primarily in the advance of his own nation, his own people, the crowd or group or club with whom he identifies? Really?  Could anyone be that selfless?  (That is, apart from enlightened folks like you and me?)

Dragon Dave

Prince Albert’s Message for Wednesday

Prince Albert shines so brightly,
He seems so very wise.
He has so much to teach us,
At least so I surmise.

What?  You want to hear more about my weekend?  How kind of you to display such interest!

All the driving on Saturday, compounded with eating at odd times (late lunch but no dinner, just lots of desserts at the party), and consequently with not sleeping well, left me shattered on Sunday morning.  After about half-an-hour, I had to leave the Bible class, get a drink, and walk around the Church parking lot for fifteen minutes in an attempt to banish my drowsiness and exhaustion. 

A fluffy, brown dog, probably a Cocker Spaniel or something similar, climbed up a waist-high chicken-wire fence and straddled it to bark at me.  I watched him as I walked my circuits, amazed he didn’t fall.  What did he think: that I was going to leave the asphalt, walk across the hundred feet of untamed wilderness (okay, untended grass and weeds) and leap into his yard?  Yap yap yap!  

Just the thing to lift my spirits.  

Still: the dog had a great sense of balance.

On my final tour of the parking lot, I paused to watch two bugs joined together at the posterior as they scrambled across the asphalt.  I don’t know what type of insects they were.  Each had a red X crisscrossing its black-and-gray back.  At first I thought they were Ladybugs, but they were more oval than round, so probably not.  Any ideas?

It’s amazing what fifteen minutes and a little exercise can do for you.  I returned to class refreshed, and better able to face singing my special during the worship service.

And now, Prince Albert’s message for today.

This Hall was erected
for the advancement of the arts and sciences.

Interesting.  A building, essentially a performance hall, erected to advance 

the arts 

AND 

the sciences.

Can the two be joined?  

If so, how?

And what might doing so gain us?

Dragon Dave

Prince Albert’s Message for Tuesday

So many people
Arriving and departing.
I wonder if they ever stop
to admire the building,
or think about what
it's trying to say.

Want to hear a little about my weekend?  (Sure you do).

Saturday...phew!  A long drive up to Los Angeles, another drive to a Mexican restaurant, then ran an errand with Mother and friend.  A great lunch though: a steak burrito with a chili relleno inside it.  A first for me: muy delicious!  Gracias, Mamma y amiga!  In the evening, we hopped in the car again, this time to attend a surprise birthday party for a family member.  

There, we were asked the inevitable question from the person’s friends: “Now how do you know _______?”  I don’t know how we’re related: it’s one of those extended-family things.  She’s a cousin-ish.  Why do people always expect you to understand all the branchings in a family tree?

At any rate, she was REALLY surprised (and pleasantly surprised), so it was all good.  

Now, on to today's inspiring inscriptions.

Glory be to God on high,
and on Earth, peace.

Work

Thanking the Divine

Peace

Could the secret of life really be that easy?
Dragon Dave

Prince Albert’s Message for Monday

Buses stop outside the Royal Albert Hall.
They drop off passengers.
They pick up passengers.
They move on.
(As does life).

Vrrum.
Vrummm.
Vrummmmmmmm!

I apologize to those of you who enjoy my long, text-based blog posts.  This won’t be one of those.  Last weekend, while a great chance to reunite with family, nonetheless left me exhausted.  

Despite my desire to inspire you each day, I am beginning to realize how much of my mental focus it takes to write seven essays of my usual length every week for Dragon Cache.  (That's not to say that you are not worth it!)  I need to be devoting sufficient time to my primary task: writing my novels and getting them published.  After all, that's what people say that they really want from me.  So....

The Wise and their works
are in the Hand of God.

Wisdom.  

Great feats of industry.  

Divine Protection.

May this message, from the Royal Albert Hall in London, spur on your own efforts today.

Dragon Dave

Hercule Poirot at the Royal Albert Hall

I cannot say that I was ever a great singer.  I would guess that, had I pursued such a career, my voice would rank in the lower echelons of the talented.  This is not to say that I have not starred in numerous productions.  Growing up, I played the lead in a musical called “Sam,” based on the story of the Good Samaritan.  I played the poor traveler who gets beaten up by robbers.  Much to the director’s ire, I insisted upon putting up quite a fight before falling on the stage.  But then again, as my the director was my mother, she knew what I was like when she cast me, right?  

Later, in my teens, I played the lead in “Psalty’s Christmas Calamity,” a children’s production.  I had to wear a life-sized songbook made out of foam, and have my hair spray-painted blue.  It was great fun to dance and sing on stage with the kids, even if the production was performed in our small church.

In college, I tried out for several music groups, and enjoyed singing with Male Chorale for three years.  The director always demanded the best from us.  Yet unlike other directors, he recognized that most of us were not music majors.  He cut us the slack to just be ourselves, even if our antics got him called up before the hierarchy more than once.  (Okay, on a regular basis).  Those Spring Break tours were special.  Heck, we practiced together every day during the week.  Each moment together was special!

The Royal Albert Hall,
as seen from across the street at
the Prince Albert Memorial.

The Royal Albert Hall was built in 1871, and forms the functional part of the Albert Memorial.  Like the latter, it was built to commemorate Prince Albert’s desire to enlighten his citizens through a cultivation of the arts.  Many important musicians and groups have performed there, from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Led Zeppelin to Adele.  Great artists such as these rely on more than just the quality of their voices.  They have to master their instruments.  They have to create songs that resonate with their audience.  They must adopt a style that defines them, one so unique that they emerge from all the other up-and-coming artists crying out for the public’s attention.  Whether I could have found something truly special within myself, I’ll never know, for I never pursued music as a career.  

It didn’t occur while we were in London, but later during our vacation, as we flipped channels one evening in our apartment at a former English Manor, we came across a Hercule Poirot mystery.  In the show, Poirot stands atop the Albert Memorial next to another man, someone who may be his helper in solving the mystery, or may be a suspect.  The two men stare down at the Royal Albert Hall as they talk.  Even thought we had left London behind, we could not help but smile as we watched them stand next to the impressive carvings, and the gold leaf-covered statue of Prince Albert.  We had stood there (albeit on the other side of that intricate brown and gold fence).  We had stared down at that concert hall, and appreciated its unique design and decoration.  

While I sing far less than I used to, I occasionally sing a special in church.  Today, as it happens, I’m singing in my mother’s church: not because I’m a great singer, but because I know that doing so will mean a lot to her.  I cannot imagine a circumstance in which I would ever be invited to sing in the Royal Albert Hall.  But that’s okay.  For no matter how glorious the venue, what matters is that I give of my best in all that I do, and that I seek to enrich the lives of others.  Ultimately, that’s what all art should be about, don’t you agree?

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there, and to all those who seek to make this day special for those whom they love.

Related Dragon Cache entries

Where State and Church are One: Part 1

Audrey, Richard, and the Unknown Constable

My Uncle, Hercule Poirot

Those Spectacular Movies

In “The Power of Star Wars” Parts 1 and 2, I talked about how watching that particular movie in the cinema changed my life.  An activity that grew out of my love for Star Wars was attending conventions.  There were all kinds of conventions back then, just as there are today.  Some were primarily literary in nature.  Some focused more on Horror.  Some chiefly celebrated Star Trek.  But for me, the primary consideration for attending a convention was the movies they would show.

It’s hard for me to journey back in my mind and remember how I felt whenever I attended one of those media-based conventions.  Today, I’ve got many of my favorite TV shows, and oh-so-many movies, instantly at my fingertips via my DVD collection.  If those don’t suffice, I can turn on my 42” flatscreen TV, and watch any number of movies on more than a hundred channels.  But back in the late 1970s, science fiction and fantasy movies (sci-fi) were a more finite resource.  

My parents had two thirteen-inch Black-and-White TVs (with the old square-shaped screen) in our home.  My father swore that we would never have a color TV.  “They're bad for you,” he told me, whenever I would ask.  After “Star Wars” gave me an insatiable hunger for sci-fi, I talked my parents into letting me have one of the sets in my room.  Perhaps I complained about wanting to watch “Space 1999” when they were enjoying “The Lawrence Welk Show” until they caved in.  Maybe they just took pity on me.  At any rate, I would scan the TV listings for anything vaguely sci-fi on the six or so channels that we received, and hopefully it was scheduled for broadcast during a time period in which I could watch it.  Or, if it was scheduled for past my bedtime, I might have begged my parents to let me stay up.

Today, a filmmaker contracts special effects out to whichever company he believes can do the best job in the least time for the lowest price.  But before Star Wars and ILM, any director who wanted to make a sci-fi movie had to hire people individually, and hope that not only were they as good as they claimed, but that they could work well with him and their future coworkers.  There were special effects “wizards” like Douglas Trumbell and Ray Harryhausen, each of whom had their own unique style and capabilities.  If a moviemaker got one of them, he was fortunate.  But most of the time, producers hired what people they could afford, who would then conduct experiments in their laboratories, to see if they could realize the effects envisioned by the director.

Most of the time, they couldn’t.

Without ongoing effects houses, sci-fi movies were made less often.  Perhaps one or two might be released each year.  Certainly this would have been true of major studio productions.  Thus, there was a feeling that the catalogue of existing science fiction movies was limited.  If a person had the resources, and were sufficiently dedicated, he or she could see every sci-fi movie that had ever been made.  I don’t remember if I ever had such lofty ambitions, but I know that I wanted to see any sci-fi movie I could.  Thus, I looked forward to the major media conventions each year.  As soon as I arrived, I’d scan the programs and mark off all the movies that I had never seen.  Back then, all of them seemed unique in some way.  They might not have compared to “Star Wars,” but that didn’t matter.  Each presented a distinct vision of the writer and director.  Each displayed effects that people had worked hard to produce, many times using highly innovative techniques.  

Sometimes, I wonder what happened to that boy.  The one who hungered to see every sci-fi movie he could possibly see, instead of researching particular movies to determine which ones were truly worth his time.  The one who saw each one as special, instead of labeling it as derivative if the previews reminded him too much of another movie he’d seen.  

I seem to remember that he judged none of them too harshly. And that he loved them all.

When was the last time you really hungered to see a movie, not because it received great reviews or because your friends saw it as important, but merely because it represented a filmmaker's attempt to realize his unique vision?

Related Dragon Cache entries

Three Shining Moments

Sherlock Holmes: The New Bond

The Second Coming of John Carter

The Problem with Finishing a Good Book

In “Addicted to a Good Book,” I talked about how I’m a compulsive reader.  Sometimes, I just get the urge to start another book.  I can’t stop to remind myself of all the other books I’m currently reading.  I don’t draw up a list of all the books I’ve had the longest.  I don’t weigh the pros and cons of which books it’s more important, for whatever reason, for me to read first.  I literally cannot help myself: the urge, like the unexpected craving for a favorite food, overwhelms me.  So I open the book…and then I have yet one more book in-process, dividing my scarce reading time even further.

One of my intentions for this blog was to write extensively about all the great books I’ve read.  But sitting down with a novel, going through it rationally, taking stock of those aspects that resonated most with me the strongest when I was reading it, and then dividing such salient points into blog entries is hard.  Not only because it takes time, but also because it involves saying good-bye, one more time, to a good book.

One of the series I wanted to talk about, when I started this blog, was the Vlad Taltos series by Steven Brust.  When it was cold outside and the central heating seemingly couldn’t get me warm, when clouds and fog hid the sun for days or weeks at a time, when my life and career seemed to be going nowhere, I could sink into one of his Vlad novels and find warmth, belonging, and hope.  I’ve read through the entire series, barring the latest installment, and now I’ve read the first three novels a second time.  Yet I have written nothing about Jhereg and Yendi, two books that are fun and noteworthy.  Nor have I returned to Teckla, and begun to flick through its pages, so that I can communicate the story’s greatness to you.  

But the Vlad novels are not the only ones I'd like to examine in greater detail.  I’ve recently finished the Lovejoy novel Faces in the Pool, the Dune prequel The Butlerian Jihad, and Greg Bear’s novella “Hardfought,” part of a Tor Double along with “Cascade Point” by Timothy Zahn.  Instead of writing about any of those stories, I’ve blogged about movies, actors, the writing life, TV shows, and even movie trailers.  Yes, I’ve talked about the Robert Silverberg story “Born with the Dead,” but I found facing and analyzing that story a little easier.  For it was the third time that I had read it, and I’ve lived with the story for a decade now since Phases of the Moon: Six Decades of Masterpieces by a SFWA Grand Master came out.  Why haven’t I done more of what seemed most important to me: what I primarily set out to do?

When I wrote “The Blogging Wars: My Hope,” it was my intention not to blog about me, but about great stories.  What I’ve found is that it’s impossible to divorce the one from the other.  For Fiction doesn’t exist outside the human vessel.  Fiction only lives when it finds a home inside you.  When I started, books seemed to me the most obvious example of how Fiction fuses with our very beings.  (After all, my house is stuffed full of them).  Now I recognize more fully how much of the Fiction we take in, from so many other sources, influences us as well.  

Another reason I’ve held back from covering more novels is because I love them so much.  Finishing each one is a joy, but that joy is mingled with pain, because a meaningful journey has reached its end.  Re-opening that book right away, and contemplating the aspects that struck me most forcefully, reinforces this fact.  Yet we all move on.  Since I wrote “Addicted to a Good Book,” I’ve reached journey’s end with several great stories, and started reading a few new ones.  I’ve flipped over the Tor Double to read “Cascade Point” by Timothy Zahn.  My wife and I have started the next Robert Silverberg story in Phases of the Moon: “Schwartz between the Galaxies.”  (“My Schwartz is bigger than your Schwartz!” my wife exclaimed when she saw the title, quoting a great line from the movie “Spaceballs”).  And I’m a hundred pages into Steven Brust’s novel To Reign in Hell, his re-envisioning of the classic story about the revolt in Heaven. 

Actually, I haven’t started that many books, have I?  Perhaps I could start just one more.

What novels were the hardest for you to finish?  What novels, while providing a perfectly satisfactory ending, left you heart-broken because you had reached the end of a particularly great story?

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Blogging Wars: My Hope

Our Need for Interdependence

Addicted to a Good Book

Related Internet Links

Greg Bear’s website

Timothy Zahn’s Facebook page

A List of all 35 Tor Doubles (five of which include Robert Silverberg stories)

The Penultimate Stop on our Dalek Adventure

The Prince Albert Memorial

I’ve been so caught up in all the great fiction that I’ve been reading and watching lately that I haven’t blogged about England in nearly two months.  Yet our trip there last year (our first international excursion together) afforded us some special memories, and I thought I’d share another of them with you.  It comes from our last day in London, after we had left Holland Park behind.  It was our visit to one of the most impressive monuments a person could ever visit.

Under a steel-gray sky, we arrived at the Prince Albert Memorial.  This monument, built by Queen Victoria after her husband died of typhoid, offers so much to take in that one could spend hours appreciating all the artistry that went into its design.  Yet it also serves as a gathering place and recreation area for tourists and locals alike.  As we walked around it, a father nervously watched his two young children as they sought to master their inline skates.  In a little hut just behind it, vendors sold all manner of refreshments, including ice cream, which people bought and enjoyed, despite the cool, breezy conditions and the threatening rain.  High school and college kids chatted on the steps as they waited for their friends, read books, or listened to music from their MP3 Players.  

A squirrel came out of the gardens to say, "Hello."

As an American, I know little about Queen Victoria’s reign, or her relationship with her husband.  In his travelogue “Europe Through the Back Door,” host Rick Steves suggests that the two were very much in love.  Not only did the Queen build the monument, and the nearby concert hall to honor Prince Albert, but she also ordered that all the wrought iron fences in London be painted black after he died, and she mourned him for the remaining fifty years of her life.  As the prince seems to have promoted the cultivation of arts and sciences in England, the monument commemorates his leadership in these areas.  The statues set at each corner represent different areas in the world, suggesting that the prince’s influence extended beyond the small country he ruled.  And in “Black Adder: A Christmas Carol,” Prince Albert is portrayed as a kind man who praised generosity in his populace.  Not a bad way to be remembered or celebrated in fiction.

A small sign advertised guided tours once a month.  On another visit, we’d love to walk past the fencing, up the inner steps, and learn more about this historic landmark.  For not only does it showcase great artistry, but Londoners work hard to preserve its beauty.  That afternoon, we watched as workmen painted the intricate fencing.  Whether they were applying a new coat of gold leaf, or merely painting it with more gold paint, I don’t know.  I should have asked.

One amazing fence.

What I do know is that the production team behind the Doctor Who story “The Dalek Invasion of Earth” had to get up in the early hours of the morning to film such public places without lots of passers-by getting in the way.  Their efforts proved well worth it: the story proved immensely popular.  As the first story of the second season, and the second story involving Daleks, it helped feed English viewers’ fascination with this alien race.  Soon there were Dalek costumes and masks, games and puzzles, coloring books and annuals, plates and bowls and cups, candy, clothing, and of course Dalek toys for children to buy (or beg their parents for).  In those days when shows were rarely (if ever) repeated, this story was remade for the cinema in “Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150 AD,” with Peter Cushing (who later played Grand Moff Tarkin in “Star Wars”) starring as Doctor Who.

As I lingered there, I wondered what it must have meant to the children of London nearly fifty years ago, to see on their TV sets the Daleks surrounding an area they visited and played beside.  It seems a strange juxtaposition, for the pitiless Daleks to survey a city they’ve destroyed from beside this monument.  For while the Daleks enslaved those they did not kill, turning some of them into mindless Robomen, Prince Albert promoted education and the abolition of slavery.  While the Daleks ravaged England, Prince Albert was a kind man who sought the betterment of his country through championing the application of science and art to the growing manufacturing processes of his time.

A statue celebrating Albert's love for
his favorite energy drink,
Red Bull.

Terry Nation’s most remembered creation, the Daleks, serve as a metaphor for individuals who use others without regard for their feelings or wellbeing.  Such people, whether human or alien, could learn much from Prince Albert.

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Power of Punishment

Audrey, Richard, and the Unknown Constable

As Time Goes By in Holland Park: Part 3

Related Internet Links

Prince Albert in “Black Adder”

“Dalek’s Invasion Earth 2150 AD”

Albert Memorial Guided Tours