That’s the title of my newly-commenced masterpiece, an answer to Heidegger.  Where did the time go?  Well, Nachmu was waylaid by a fierce bacteria, thanks to Nachmu the Elder, who was up and about only two days after he was made ill.  Me?  Two weeks.  Two weeks of miserable pain and fatigue.

Of course, being a father, husband, business-owner, contractor, etc., the work remained while I was miserable, and after two more weeks, I think I have caught up.

I could not have caught up without the love and tenderness of Mrs. Nachmu, who used to wear the moniker “Deb the Merciless,” but was, this time, tender and merciful.  Thanks, dear wife!

Ah, friends, we’ve been inculcated for over four years now, maybe more. I can’t remember.  It seems like an eternity.  Here’s what Nachmu has learned.

Violin

The violin is the most expressive of the stringed instruments, no doubt about it.  Loud, boisterous, quiet, moody, joyful: the violin does it all.  The violin must be heard and will not be ignored. As such, the violin can be quite nasty, unlikeable, at times, like a spoiled child who cannot share playthings of nominal value.  Whenever the violin is properly tempered, however, its beauty soars.

Cello

The violincello expresses the most emotions of all the stringed instruments.  When the cello feels slighted by the violin, it might indignantly remind the violin that the cello has far more expressive range, starting low with a stormy rumble, working into a angry froth in the middle, finally reaching the range of the violin, striking lightning at its extreme.  This makes the cello quite the moody instrument, rarely happy, mostly melancholy, sometimes angry, but at all times, beautiful.  The cello is never unlikeable.

Viola

The viola expresses the least range of the stringed instruments.  At first glance, this might make the viola a secondary instrument, but it is a false impression.  The viola is neither moody nor easily cajoled.  Its expression is even, reliable, hopeful.  I saw a young woman, a wallflower, play her viola, coaxing out of it all of its mellow beauty, and then she was heckled, in a friendly way.  She shot a glance at the heckler that no wallflower could, expressing a flaming passion that is not tamed.  No, this wallflower is beautiful, but her beauty must be unlocked.  Who has the key to her beauty?  Likewise the viola: emotional depths difficult to plumb, a long-burning hot fire difficult to feel.

Guitar

The classical guitar is a misfit, a colorful character who does not fit in at court.  All the other instruments condescend, but they know they must have the guitar in their midst.  After all, with all the swinging moods and coursing emotions, we need the guitar to keep ourselves well-grounded.  What better way to see ourselves than with the outsider commenting, like a jester in the King’s court?  And when the guitar comments, its own emotions are unleashed, racing with urgent expression, putting in awe all the courtiers.  The guitar can do that?  Who knew? I would like to hear that again!

Piano

The piano is a complicated character who rarely participates with any heart at all.  The piano is bored, yet satisfied with the banal task of supporting the other instruments, particularly the violin, who, above the others, needs the security of a bored parent.  Every now and again, the piano deigns to open up its character, showing us the mystery of the instrument, causing us to listen in discovery, as we experience the interplay within the many elements of the piano.  The piano is overwhelming, and it knows so; therefore, the piano speaks only limited pieces, then is again removed from the foreground.

Dear Doritos,

My wife and I love your Cool Ranch brand Doritos corn chip product.  We often share a bag together.  I, personally, also love the original Nacho Cheese brand Doritos corn chip product.  Mrs. Nachmu hates Nacho Cheese.  I often eat a bag of it by myself.

Would you be so kind as to produce a “Cool Ranch Nacho Cheese” brand Doritos corn chip product?

Thanks,

Nachmu.

Nachmu the Younger and I were walking the street in the cool of the day, enjoying each other, I the father and he the image of his father, when Nachmu the Younger picked up a stick which had been fashioned, lo and behold, with a trigger mechanism.

At each tree, he paused, made a clicking sound, “chk-chk,” and pulled the trigger.  I thought he was shooting the trees with a gun, so, to verify, I asked him, “What are you doing?” He responded, “I’m lighting each tree on fire!” He was delighted in himself.  The stick was not a gun, you see, it was a butane lighter, the kind one uses to light candles or a charcoal fire.

“Well, great,” I thought to myself, “How much is this going to cost me?”

A moment later, he added, “Each night, we light the trees on fire, and then, in the morning, we come back and put them out. They’re very bright.”

Ah, so the rest of the questions forming themselves rested, namely: “How am I going to make time for all the counseling sessions? How did my five-year old become a pyromaniac? Was it the Fourth of July firecrackers we played with?” Nope, instead, it was a child delighted in himself that he was imagining the neighborhood lit with a hundred giant tree-candles, no more dark to be afraid of ever again.

Reader "L" sends this photo to illustrate.