Monthly Archives: September 2019


I watched the movie again on Saturday evening.

This . . . after listening to Mahler 2 live from Powell Hall (I had a ticket, but my coughing was going to be ugly, so I listened instead to the broadcast, and read the score as the symphony unfolded).

Saturday was an emotional evening . . . .


An evening out

I call them my circus nephews.  And I recently gave their parents a night off for themselves, while I corralled the boys to San Jose Mexican Restaurant in Webster Groves, then out a far piece on Big Bend to a putt-putt golf place for two rounds, and then to Ted Drewes.  A good time was had by all.

Without my own family nearby, these guys are brilliant stand-ins for nephews.  I get them hopped up on sugar, teach them a few choice words, then push them out of the car back at their parents’ home!

Mini-golfing. After one hole, Dennis (middle) was already one over par.
I ordered my usual, an apple pie concrete.
They really were happy about Ted Drewes.
He ate the whole thing.
After Tex-Mex and Ted Drewes, tummies were full.

Variety stories

A story, then a funny.

I am the chorus director for the Variety Children’s Charity education program.  I’ve worked with special-needs kids enough to know they are often quite honest, and forthright about their needs.

This year we have two singers with cochlear implants.  One of them brought his microphone to first rehearsal.  The mic hangs around my neck, and since it’s unidirectional, it picks up my voice and Bluetooths it to the receivers for his implants.

This week the other student brought her mic.  I watched as she synced it to her own receivers, and then I wore the mic for the entire rehearsal.  And she was engaged more in what was going on as a result.

Technology is cool.  And wonderful.  And a god-send at times.

And these are new experiences for me.

Now the funny . . . .

One of our singers is a very outgoing, chatty, and very honest super-senior.

Monday evening, I kept messing up the words on a song.

And she kept calling me on it.  “Dr. Carter, you sang ‘him’ again when it should have been ‘we.'”

After the third or fourth time, I just said “I’m a bad conductor!”.  Smile on my face . . . but acknowledging that I’m a mess that evening.

She, to me and the whole group: “No you’re not.  You’re just making a lot of mistakes.”

The room erupts in laughter.

And scene.


The culprit may or may not be in this photo: