Requiem of a boys choir

I went to hear this choir last night. So good, and so British. Chattanooga was the first stop on their American tour, and they had flown over the day before and were clearly jetlagged. Yet they were able to perform Purcell, Mendelssohn, and Herbert Howells with the sound that only a boys choir from Cambridge could make. One of the boys could not have been over 7 years old, with chubby cheeks. He kept yawning and coughing and would lose his place but come back in for the final “Amen.” I couldn’t believe he was belting out requiems and magnificats and singing in German and doing other things I could only dream of as a 7-year-old. He was SO cute, and Mom and I agreed that we both wanted to take him home and put him to bed.

At the end, the older members of the choir, some of them grown men who were singing serious falsetto, broke out “Ev’ry time I feel the Spirit,” with their fabricated southern accents. It was effortless. Not as good as the Cono boys ensemble though.

In other news, UCLA and LSU sent Adam Morrison and JJ Redick home crying, respectively, and literally, and something about that is very satisfying to me. Although it certainly didn’t help my bracket.

For Andrew

Since Andrew likes to comment on my blog, I thought I would do him a favor by actually posting again. It’s been a while, but it’s mainly because I never have good fodder. Of course, if you ask William Zissner, or E.B. White, even the littlest things can be transformed into good essays, for those who are willing to look. I recently read an essay by White on brown eggs vs. white eggs. Reminds me of Grandma Belz’s brown eggs and cinnamon rolls and coffee on her oval table on Sunday mornings at her house at Cono. (Wow, too many prepositions in that sentence).

The NCAA tournament pretty much sucks. The Big Ten is completely out so now I’m left with George Mason to root for. Iowa was a huge disappointment.

I don’t have any cool links or photos to put on here right now. That will have to wait till later, when I’ve built up more stamina. I’ll leave you with some idea of what the near future looks like for me: flying to Boston in a couple weeks for a long weekend, training for Ragbrai, going to the beach and doing Ragbrai the second half of July, got into a couple grad schools, namely American and Boston U., and need to decide about that. I wish the weather in Chattytown would get better so I could ride my new bike.

Andrew, if you’re reading, I could use some grad school advice.

Of cabbages and kings

I sit here and can’t think of just one thing to write about.

I would like to attach the poem my cousin Aaron recently wrote about my grandmother, and have that be enough, but I don’t have it with me. If you would like to see his other poetry, go to

I could write about the recent funeral of my Uncle Rudy, how the community went above and beyond the call of duty; how my relatives poured into Chattanooga like a swarm of locusts, only of course much better and more sweet than locusts; how we marched out of the funeral service to the singing of a spiritual; how we stood around the grave where the handmade casket lay and remembered and sang, and sang through the rest of the night; how my cousins all reflected on how the torch had been passed to our generation; and many more things that happened that week.

I could write about Thanksgiving, breathing in fresh air while we ran and walked many miles to burn off the calories, not to mention playing football and frisbee with my energetic nephews, and singing Johnny Cash and various bluegrass around the piano with recorders and guitar and bass.

I could write about the book I’m reading, On Writing Well, and how this blog entry does not live up to its standards, but oh well, it’s the internet.

I could write about shoes and ships and sealing wax, but I’ve got too much to say, and can’t think how to say it, so I won’t.


Well, here I am in Boston and, coincidentally, on bostonblogs. However, my design didn’t transfer over from chattablogs and I am too lazy to fix it right now. Boston is great and not humid and all the other 5th northers have left now except for Laura. Not sure if they will all still be writing on bostonblogs.

I said I would write more about RAGBRAI, but Laura already summed it up for me pretty well. Suffice it to say that I will definitely do it again, with Team Jimnasty and with a much better bike next time. Anyone who wants to join can: Team Jimnasty has open enrollment. Iowa is the bomb and is extremely hilly.

Speaking of RAGBRAI, my blog description is just one of many quotable quotes from the week. This one was from cousin Aaron Belz, otherwise known as Zleb, when we were all eating pasta during a lunch stop, and again, it is explained over on Laura’s blog.

In the spirit of Arrested Development, I want to infuse a double meaning into the title of this entry. Not only am I being lazy in fixing the design of this blog, but I am also being lazy until grad school starts September 5. Okay, maybe that’s not really a double meaning. But then I am not as clever as the writers for AD. Plus, I am doing some temp work, so I am not being altogether lazy.

More later, maybe after I attend a Red Sox/White Sox game on Labor Day, which could very well happen.

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