Thank you to the Fredericks

One of my favorite children’s books of all time is Leo Lionni’s Frederick. In this story, a group of mice work together to prepare for the winter. Most of the mice are busy gathering “corn and nuts and wheat and straw.” The mice, we are told, work all day. But not Frederick. Frederick moves at a much slower pace. The mice are understandably perturbed and ask him, “Why don’t you work?”

Frederick says, “I do work.” He goes on to explain, “I gather sun rays for the cold dark winter days.”

Frederick by Leo Lionni

The story goes on in much the same way, with Frederick continuing to explain that it may not look like he is working, but that he is busy gathering things like colors and words.

Now, if you’re the other mice, tired and sweating and muscles aching, this can’t go over so well with you. Gathering the sun? Gathering colors? Gathering words? That’s what you’re doing? Yeah. Okay, Frederick. Thanks. Remind us how those colors taste when you’re eating the food that we got for you.

I mean, everybody knows that guy, right? The one who seems to not be doing much, who lets others do the heavy-lifting. In the college courses I teach, I usually refrain from assigning high-stakes points to any kind of group work because I want to spare my students the frustration of having to drag along a Frederick.

Except here’s the thing. Frederick is not the slacker he appears to be. He is just using his gifts in a different way. He really is harnessing the sun.

Frederick, you see, is an artist.

In a productivity-driven mouse society like his, Frederick’s gifts may seem less apparent. Less useful. But they are real just the same. And Leo Lionni, in this wonderful tale, tells us that they matter.

I have been thinking about Frederick a lot these past few days as my family and I engage in what Michael Stipe dubbed “Q.S.Q.” (quasi-self-quarantining). Like many others, I have been sustained, in these uncertain and scary times, in part by the sense of community I have had online with friends and family. And, while online and checking Facebook, I have been heartened by the efforts of our artists and the entertainers.

John Legend is one of many artists who has hosted or who will be hosting online concerts.

To be clear, I know there are so many people out there who are real heroes, who are putting themselves in genuine danger every day, sacrificing, potentially, their own health and well-being to help others and to keep our society going. The health care workers, first and foremost. The first responders. There are also the heroes—usually getting paid a minimum wage salary—still showing up for work at grocery stores and gas stations so that our society can function, quarantines and all.

For those of us trying to stay home and to stay calm, trying to, well, not freak out at the unprecedented, almost apocalyptic nature of it all, the artists and entertainers are providing a service that, while, perhaps not heroic, has certainly proven invaluable, too.

The Indigo Girls will be playing some songs on Facebook Live on Thursday, March 19th.

If you are on social media, you will see it everywhere—artists like The Indigo Girls , Bruce Springsteen, John Legend, and Michael Stipe posting and sharing free mini-concerts from home or making footage of live shows available. Vulture shared a list of many of these online shows yesterday: https://www.vulture.com/2020/03/all-musicians-streaming-live-concerts.html

Museums like the Guggenheim and the National Gallery are offering free virtual tours https://www.travelandleisure.com/attractions/museums-galleries/museums-with-virtual-tours. Access to some Broadway shows and plays has been around a while now, but its access is certainly welcome, too. https://www.playbill.com/article/15-broadway-plays-and-musicals-you-can-watch-on-stage-from-home Having cancelled its performances through March, the Metropolitan Opera is planning to livestream some performances, too. https://www.forbes.com/sites/janelevere/2020/03/14/responding-to-coronavirus-closures-metropolitan-opera-and-92y-livestream-performances-free-starting-tonight/#5c8ded28194b

The National Gallery is one of a number of museums providing free virtual tours.

Yesterday, Jimmy Fallon posted an “at home” of the Tonight Show, filmed by his wife, at his house, featuring his dog Gary and his daughter. https://www.nbc.com/the-tonight-show/video/the-tonight-show-at-home-edition-the-first-one/4134367

Yesterday, Jimmy Fallon hosted “Day One” of his “At Home Edition” of The Tonight Show.


And it all helps. It really does. It helps so much.

In the book Frederick, winter comes, and the days become almost unbearable. The mice, nestled into their hideout among some stones, are running out of food. It’s dark, it’s cold, and they are stuck in a small confined place together. How are they going to manage to survive until spring in conditions like this? And then it happens.

One of the mice says, “What about your supplies, Frederick?”

So, Frederick climbs upon a rock, and he speaks. He tells them about the sun, and they feel its warmth. He tells them about colors, and they can see the colors. He recites a poem he has written about the coming of spring, and, suddenly, the other mice, too, believe that spring will come.

And for just a little bit, when they need it most, they are sustained.

80s music: It’s Still Rock ‘n Roll to Me

There is a list tacked to the bulletin board in my kitchen with names of contemporary artists and bands that are probably fantastic. I say “probably” because I haven’t listened to them yet.

Our babysitter, Abby—it’s strange to use the word “babysitter” because she is more friend and family at this point—made the list for me about a month ago. Okay, maybe two.

“Have you listened to any of the music yet?” She recently asked.

“No,” I confessed. “I will. Soon. Soon!”

Soon? Why did I sound like I was being asked, around the first of April, if I had finished my taxes? Since when did listening to new music become a chore?

Music has been a passion of mine for as long as I can remember. It started with 45 records and an FM radio, progressing through boom boxes and mix tapes, all the way to CDs and playlists. I have camped out for concert tickets; spent three days in a muddy tent at several music festivals, sans running water, and living on oatmeal crème pies, just to see the likes of Bjork, Green Day, Hole, the Indigo Girls, Soundgarden, Weezer, Oasis, Pulp, Belly, The Dave Matthews Band, and the Cure. Instead of passionately pursuing a career or a calling with great zeal, I spent my early twenties accruing a stack of ticket stubs and concert t-shirts. With great zeal.

People filling up the stadium at Soldier Field, Chicago. June 2017, U2: The Joshua Tree reunion tour.

I always vowed that as I got older I would not become one of those people who only listens to music from their youth. I have spent much of my adult life teaching college students, and this has helped. Artists like Cat Power, Phish, Regina Spektor, and The Dropkick Murphys found their way to me mostly because of students.

It also helps to have that one friend who has remained fantastically plugged in to all things hip, who lives in a university town, and who sends you the occasional mix and playlist. You know this friend; she is the smart and artsy one with the most effortlessly cool glasses and the best shoes, the friend who can actually pull off the leopard-print haircalf flats (Julie of Wisconsin, I’m looking at you, and thanks again for The White Stripes and Neko Case). In recent years, Abby has helped, too. Or at least she has tried.

Where the Streets Have No Name.

This summer, though, I realized that despite my best intentions, all the “new” bands I listen to—Spoon, The Avett Brothers, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, St. Vincent, Alabama Shakes—aren’t new anymore.

So I asked Abby for the list. She was happy to oblige. But I still haven’t listened to anything on it.

I did, however, attend two live shows this summer: U2’s The Joshua Tree anniversary tour and Billy Joel, performing his greatest hits. Both were fantastic. The fact that these were my two concert choices, though, only exacerbated my concern that I had let myself grow out of touch.

C’mon. It’s the piano man.

Sidebar: My husband and I like to play a game called “Have you ever heard of this band?” when we watch Saturday Night Live these days. Good times.

As I stood there listening to Billy Joel play “Still Rock and Roll to Me,” I thought of Abby’s list. I promise I’ll listen to it, I thought. I really will.

But. U2’s The Joshua Tree, for Pete’s sake. Billy Joel in center field at Wrigley at a grand piano singing “The Piano Man.”

These are good things in this world. Good then, good now.

Meanwhile, that list is still tacked to my bulletin board, still untouched. That’s okay. I’ll get to it. Soon.

Billy Joel—funny, irreverent, and as crazy-talented as ever—chatted with the audience casually all night and swatted flies with a flyswatter—made it seem like we were at small piano bar watching a private show. A handful of times, he let the audience choose between two songs when determining what to play next. A surprise highlight was the blistering “Sometimes a Fantasy,” but my personal favorite was the classic “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant.”