Author Archives: John Cutrone

Clockwork of the Heavens

Off_on_a_Comet

I ponder sometimes the mechanics of our planet: how it rotates on its axis as it travels around the sun while shifting in its seat, giving us our earthly seasons. If I think hard enough about it, I can imagine the sound of it, a great creaking, the movement of something massive. Is there a sound to the motion? I do not know. But I do imagine it that way, like the workings of a clock, a mechanical pendulum of a celestial object: a celestial clockwork.

This is one of those days that brings this to mind for me, for here again today our planet reaches a turning point. It has been tilting ever so slightly each day to the south, pointing the Northern Hemisphere toward the sun and the Southern Hemisphere away from the sun, since December’s solstice. Now we come to the June solstice, and for a time things seem to stand still, but then of course the counter, the opposite, and the great planet begins shifting to the north. From this point on, days will start lengthening in the Southern Hemisphere, while for us here in the North, days will begin getting shorter.

That brief time of things appearing to stand still is the source of our word solstice. It is from sol stetit, “sun stands still” in Latin. But it is an illusion; the rearranging is constant and unceasing. And so our days begin to grow shorter, even as summer by the almanac just begins… which is why our ancestors saw this time as the midpoint of summer, hence the Old Midsummer celebrations that will soon come to pass in the places that celebrate old traditions like St. John’s Eve. The Church tuned into these celestial events, too, and early on assigned the time of the Winter Solstice to the birth of Christ and the time of the Summer Solstice to the birth of the prophet who baptized him, St. John the Baptist. And just as Christmas Eve is considered by many a time of magic, when animals can speak and water turns to wine, so is St. John’s Eve a time of magic, too. William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream takes place on St. John’s Eve, and look what happens there: men are transformed to asses and fairies meddle in the romantic interests of mortals. It has long been held that magical things can happen at these junctions of the culminating points of Earth’s celestial mechanics.

The precise moment of the solstice this time around is 6:34 PM today, June 20. That’s here in Lake Worth, on the eastern edge of North America, in Eastern Daylight Time. If you are searching for the precise moment where you live, use that as your guide. Myself, I am not one for precision, being much more content with roundaboutness. And so tonight in this house we will mark the occasion with the acknowledgement that it has come and that it has passed, for by the time it happens, the great mechanics of the planet will have it begin shifting again. The summer solstice comes as well this year with a bonus gift: a full moon.

Image: An engraving from the 1877 novel Héctor Servadac, or Off on a Comet, by Jules Verne. The illustrations are by Paul Phillippoteaux.

 

My Father’s Patience

uncle john playing pool

I think my dad would not put up a fight if I told you he is not the most patient man in the world. And then who does he get for a kid but me, a kid who at times required an extra measure of patience. And still does. Dad will watch me fumble with screwdrivers and wrenches, or he will stand above me at the open hood of the truck while I am beneath it, on my back, reciting aloud “righty tighty, lefty loosey” (and which way exactly is lefty when you are on your back beneath the truck, anyway?) praying to God, hoping to God that I am not about to make the oil filter even tighter than it was the last time I turned it the wrong way. He shakes his head and no doubt thinks, “Where did this kid come from?”

And it has always been thus. One of my earliest memories of Dad/Son quality time is of Dad setting up my electric Aurora race car set. We got the tracks laid out, the hairpin curve, the traffic light, the whole works, and then he said, “Okay, give me some juice.” I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of orange juice, and brought it to him. There was some head-shaking that day, too.

We all have our strengths. Dad’s strength––his superpower––is knowing all this stuff, knowing how tools work, knowing instinctively which way to turn the oil filter for an oil change. And they are our superheroes, from the start, our dads. Today, Father’s Day, we honor them all: the dads we were given, the dads who chose us, the dads we have chosen ourselves, for they come in many varied types. Sometimes they are our grandfathers, or our uncles, or brothers or old friends who just seem like dads to us. The definition is loose, but the shoes to fill are large.

These days, Dad says “thank you” a lot to me, and to Seth, the other son I gave him. I always say “thank you” in return. He stood there at our wedding, and I imagine that is not at all something he would have pictured himself doing if you had asked him years ago. But he did stand there for us, and I know he was proud of us, and completely welcoming and loving. At least Seth knows how to handle a socket wrench. Perhaps Dad figures I’ll be all right, after all. He did a good job. And so to my father, to Seth’s father, to all our fathers: Happy Father’s Day.

Image: My cousin Maria found this photo taken in the basement (“a bass’u cell,” in my grandparents’ dialect) of our old family home in Valley Stream, New York. That’s my dad on the right in the striped shirt; to his left is Doc, then Grandpa, and at the far left is Frank. Great guys every one, all worthy of happy Father’s Day wishes. There is Grandpa’s cuckoo clock; he pulled the weights up each morning. This was the same room as the race-car-juice incident.

 

Juneteenth

Juneteenth

Juneteenth is not ’til Sunday, but I’m writing this and sending it out to the world a couple of days early, for here where we live, our Juneteenth celebration is happening a bit early, as well: It’s tomorrow, Saturday June 18, at Spady Cultural Heritage Museum in Delray Beach. The name Juneteenth, which is such a wonderful word, is a portmanteau (itself a wonderful word) of the words June and nineteenth. The day is also known as Freedom Day or Emancipation Day, and it goes back 151 years to 1865: The Emancipation Proclamation may have been issued by President Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863, and the Civil War may have ended with the surrender of Robert E. Lee to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomatox Courthouse in Virginia on April 9, 1865… but enforcement of that emancipation took some time. Juneteenth is a celebration born in Galveston, Texas, when Union General Gordon Granger arrived on Galveston Island on June 18, 1865 with 2,000 Union troops. Granger arrived with the formal announcement of the end of slavery, which he read the following day, June 19, from a Galveston balcony:

The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.

Newly emancipated slaves rejoiced right there in the streets of Galveston. It took a few years before that proclamation made its way across the vast State of Texas, and, as you can imagine, the news was not always welcome: newly freed slaves were often the targets of violence. Still, by the year that followed that original proclamation in Galveston, Juneteenth celebrations were sprouting up all over Texas and continued spreading, mostly among African American communities, throughout the country. As the years went on, and with the new challenges of Jim Crow and segregation, Juneteenth became a day to gather family, to reassure each other against adversity and challenge. In fact, Emancipation Park in Houston is a fine example of Juneteenth spirit challenging Jim Crow laws: When whites kept blacks from using public spaces, those who wanted to celebrate Juneteenth properly gathered the money necessary to purchase a site of their own, and Emancipation Park is one such site. It is the first public park in the State of Texas. The Juneteenth celebration has been going on there for a week now!

Folks early on wore their finest clothes for Juneteenth parades and gathered to eat good food, barbecue especially. Nowadays the dress is less formal but the celebration endures, showcasing the importance of the contributions of black Americans and African American culture. But even now––or maybe especially now––even after 151 years, Juneteenth is a day to celebrate hard-earned freedoms. We should never become complacent about these things. This year’s Juneteenth celebration at Emancipation Park has been going on for about the same length of time that our nation has had to mourn the tragedy that took place in Orlando. By now, the response to that tragedy has devolved into our usual bickering. We never see things eye to eye here, and this is what makes America what it is. However, it does get disheartening to see such division where one would hope to find common sense, and it is disturbing to see some so willing to trample on the rights of others based on who they are. I’ll leave it at that; I am tired of the bickering and the division, and I don’t wish to be part of it. I’m just here to remind you that portmanteau is a lovely word, that Juneteenth should not be forgotten, and that the freedoms we all enjoy as citizens of this country have been, for some of us, attained only through great toil and hardship.

 

Image: A photograph of an early Juneteenth celebration in Austin, Texas.