I mean, I’m not ashamed to say that, but yeah. I saw Wilco on SNL playing this song, and I was like sure, I’ll buy this album.
It’s the jangly piano at the start. That’s the part that gets stuck.
Tag: Piano
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Short Story Review: “Something Has Come to Light” by Miriam Toews
(The short story “Something Has Come to Light” by Miriam Toews appeared in the August 25th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Marcus Schaefer for The New Yorker
I had a humanities teacher in high school who explained existentialism to my class this way; “We are all free to make choices in our life. Nothing is determined. You can choose to be whoever you want. Being able to choose doesn’t always mean you will be happier.” At least that’s the notes I took in my first journal way back in 1995. I went back to this journal after I finished reading Miriam Toews’ story “Something Has Come to Light,” because not only did the story make me think about choices I’ve made, but also about living with those choices.
To sum this story up, perhaps a bit too simply: A grandmother has written a note/story for her grandchildren about a moment in her life where she should have said yes, but said no to the neighbor boy, Roland. Some years later the boy moves away, but dies, and his parents bury an urn that contain his ashes on their property. Sometime even later, after the parents on the neighboring property pass away and their land is to be sold, the grandmother sneaks onto the property at night, digs up the urn, and reburies it on her property. Every day, the grandmother has passed by the buried urn, and tells Roland she should have said yes. The letter/story ends with the grandmother asking the grandchild to dig up the urn and return it to Roland’s surviving sister, or if that’s too much to ask, leave him, and continue to tell him that grandma made a mistake and should have said yes.
I loved this story. And I loved how this story snuck up on me, how it placed itself in my head, and kept poking at me, telling me to enjoy it more. The language here is simple and to the point, which is what you would expect from a woman that has lived a simple but contented life. The way it was written reminded me of how the Midwestern women in my family spoke – there was a plainness to it, but that didn’t mean that the words didn’t have nuance and revelatory meaning to them. The grandmother is a woman who doesn’t complain, but also is tough and doesn’t put up with much either, yet will never be rude about it.
The story really is about Roland, and the affect he had on her life. Though the two of them weren’t close, according to the grandmother, you can tell that she had a deep appreciation for him. Roland was different from the other people in town. His great sin appears to be that he sat on the front row at concerts, had a gift for the piano as demonstrated with a concert he put on in town and which the grandmother saved a poster from. Then one day Roland rode up to the grandmother and asked if she wanted a ride, which she answered no. A decision she would regret as Roland moved away to England. The town never forgave him for leaving, and I sense that the grandmother never spoke up or out in Roland’s defense, but she lived with that regret. A regret that would possess her to the point that not only did she need to apologize to Roland for the rest of her life, but also to possess Roland for the remainder of her life.
What I find captivating about this story is that it isn’t necessarily a romantic bond between the grandmother and Roland. Though I think there is a tinge about, like a frosting, but it’s not the driving motivation. What I believe the story is telling me is that the grandmother is mourning the exact moment where her life could have gone in a different direction. That she could have been, or done, something different. But, and this is most important, she does not regret her life. I say this because the start of the story, the grandmother explains that she keeps all the pictures of her grandchildren in a photo album next to her bed; how she looks at them, most nights. This is the act of a woman appreciating the life she lived, and what her and her husband created in this world.
What I find Miriam Toews is asking me with “Something Has Come to Light” is can it be possible to love the life you led, but also mourn the moment when it could have gone in a different direction? Can you love a person who could have been your agent of change, while also not wanting to change? Can a paradox like this exist in a contented person?
Perhaps. Perhaps the grandmother never wanted to let go of that chance encounter, to say she was sorry to the one person who wasn’t like anyone else she ever knew. Ultimately, the grandmother made her choice, and she learned to live with it, and with regret at the same time.
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Happily Discovering Erik Satie
Of all the things I have experienced in my life, the one I miss the most is the joy, wonder and excitement of learning. The last time I really felt it continuously was back in college, twenty years ago, when I would be in a class, and some new concept or idea would be presented to me, and that feeling would come over me, and it was like a door being unlocked, or that I was closer to putting my arms around a knowable world. It was such a fun, butterflies in the stomach feeling. A sweet and innocent feeling, one that seemed to be experienced daily in grade school, yet as time picked up speed in the vessel of my life, the frequency decreased. Was the cup of my mind filling, or was my tabula rasa becoming cluttered?
And then, oddly, quite unexpected, something will come along that will jolt that old feeling. Like noodling around Spotify, and coming upon Erik Satie, and that wonder of learning comes over me once again; Why hello old friend, I haven’t felt you in such a long time. I don’t know why Satie has inspired me in this matter, but it is where I am, and I know enough to not question it.
You know, Erik Satie, the French pianist composer. I think I have must come by his music at one point in my life. I have a vague feeling that I was involved in a puppet show that used his music. Whatever the case, I find myself trying in engage in as much of his music as possible, and also to learn as much about his as possible. And the more I learn; I feel like I should have known about him earlier. I am aware of the people he considered to be his friends and contemporaries in music and art, so I must have seen his name before.
Right?
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ODDS and ENDS: Touching Toes, Vince Guaraldi’s Evolution, Halloween Candy, and Vote
(There’s no money in it, kid.)
May daughter can touch her toes. This is a huge point of pride for her, and one she likes to show off often. I think their gym teacher had them do it at school the other day. My wife, also, can touch her toes, and she, accordingly, is very proud of this fact. I, on the other hand, cannot touch my toes. I am equally proud of this fact. I’m like an inch away from touching them, and if I put forth a little more effort, I am sure I could snap my knees in half and do it. Furthermore, I don’t think I have ever been able to touch my toes. I am sure that someone out there might think of that as a shortcoming, or even a failure, but I would like to point out that my lack of toe touching has not held me back in life. I have been a very productive member of society, achieved many thing in my life that I am very proud of, all while overcoming my lack of phalanges connection. I shall continue to preserver.
Do you know who Vince Guaraldi is? He’s the jazz piano player who wrote all of the Peanuts/Charlie Brown music. A long time ago, I bought his first jazz album on CD: Vince Guaraldi Trio. I think the reason I bought was that I wanted to know what his non-Peanuts music sounded like. This was like twenty years ago. Then this week, a thought came in my head – totally random – that I should listen to Guaraldi’s discography in order, and hear how his sound evolved from that first album. It is an interesting development, from a very traditional jazz sound, to becoming something that has a pop angle to it by the end. Sadly, Vince died in his late forties by a sudden heart attack, so it feels like his career was cut short only half way through.
I’m not eating my kid’s Halloween candy this year. Personal vow, there really isn’t a story there. I just don’t want to feel like a thief around her.
Vote
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