Dear Cyndy,

My dilemma is whether I should write to you now, before the
details of the past three days' journeys are lost in the dusk
of amnesia, or whether I should continue to pursue the mirage
of order and neatness before the dusk that is merging the
dark green leaves in front of my window into a curtain of
blackness, takes away also the mental energies that I need
for my task.

The trip back was straightforward, uncomplicated, dramatic
for its lack of drama.  The price of leaving on time was to
forget to unplug the microwave, to forget to turn off the
electric hot water heater, to forget to turn off the power
to the submersible pump, to forget to bring back enough
short sleeved shirts, and to forget to make sure that the
telephone answering device with which I start the surveillance
program was not inadvertently disconnected when I draped
the computer with its plastic rain sheath. Fortunately there
is Jeane, whom I reward royally for her help, who will
drive up to the house today or tomorrow to correct my
deliquencies as well as she can.

We stopped in Chilhowie, to - as they would say in Konnarock -
"gas up", then drove north on Interstate 81, hour upon hour
to the sound of CD player music, beginning with Schubert's
final song cycle "Schwanengesang" which comprises some of his
most inspired Lieder, to which I like to listen over and over
again. Then Beethoven's Emperor Concerto. I hadn't heard it
for years, and as I listened to it now, I felt as if my life
was making a feeble - and of course unsuccessful - effort to
recycle.

It was at the Rest Area on Route 81, just north of Staunton
that I slipped the CD with the Bach Cantatas into the player.
The disk begins with Cantata #52 whose music and meanings I
have cherished for decades. The cantata opens with a parody
of the first movement of the first Brandenburg Concerto. I'm
much appreciative of Bach's sense of humor and irony, invoking
his own brilliant (and presumably admired) composition as
emblematic of the "Falsche Welt" (Deceitful World) which the
Cantata deplores and impugns. 

You can find more information including other translations
at this URL:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV52.htm

Here's the German text:

Falsche Welt, dir trau' ich nicht (BWV 52)
1. SINFONIA

2. REZITATIV

Falsche Welt, dir trau' ich nicht!
Hier muß ich unter Skorpionen
Und unter falschen Schlangen wohnen.
Dein Angesicht,
Das noch so freundlich ist,
Sinnt auf ein heimliches Verderben:
Wenn Joab küßt,
So muß ein frommer Abner sterben.
Die Redlichkeit ist aus der Welt verbannt,
Die Falschheit hat sie fortgetrieben,
Nun ist die Heuchelei
An ihrer Stelle blieben.
Der beste Freund ist ungetreu,
O jämmerlicher Stand!

3. ARIE

Immerhin, immerhin,
Wenn ich gleich verstoßen bin!
Ist die falsche Welt mein Feind,
O so bleibt doch Gott mein Freund,
Der ist redlich mit mir meint.

4. REZITATIV

Gott ist getreu!
Er wird, er kann mich nicht verlassen;
Will mich die Welt und ihre Raserei
In ihre Schlingen fassen,
So steht mir seine Hülfe bei.
Auf seine Freundschaft will ich bauen
Und meine Seele, Geist und Sinn
Und alles, was ich bin,
Ihm anvertrauen.
Gott ist getreu!

5. ARIE

Ich halt es mit dem lieben Gott,
Die Welt mag nur alleine bleiben
Gott mit mir, und ich mit Gott,
Also kann ich selber Spott
Mit den falschen Zungen treiben.

6. CHORAL

In dich hab ich gehoffet, Herr,
Hilf, daß ich nicht zuschanden werd,
Noch ewiglich zu Spotte!
Das bitt ich dich,
Erhalte mich
In deiner Treu, Herr Gotte! 

=======================================

and here's one of several English translations,
(not mine - I plead not guilty.)

BWV 52 Falsche Welt, dir trau ich nicht!

Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity.

Poet unknown.

6. Adam Reusner, verse 1 of the hymn, 1533 (Wackernagel, III, #170).

24 November 1726, Leipzig; Parody:  First Brandenburg Concerto, BWV 1046/1.

BG 12, 2; NBA I/26.

1. Sinfonia

2. Recit. (S)

Treach'rous world, I trust thee not!
Here must I in the midst of scorpions
And midst deceitful serpents sojourn.
Thy countenance,
Which, ah, so friendly is,
Now plots in secret a destruction:
At Jacob's kiss
Must come a righteous Abner's ruin.(1)
Sincerity is from the world now banned,
Duplicity hath driv'n it from us,
And now hypocrisy
Here in its stead abideth.
The best of friends is found untrue,
O what a wretched state!

3. Aria (S)

Just the same, just the same,
Though I be expelled with blame,

_     Though the false world me offend,
_     Oh, yet bideth God my friend,
_     Who doth true for me intend.(2) 


4. Recit. (S)

God is e'er true!
He shall, he can me not abandon;
E'en though the world and all its raging seek
Within its coils to seize me,
Yet near to me his help shall stand.
Upon his friendship I will build now
And give my spirit, soul and mind
And ev'rything I am
To him for keeping.

5. Aria (S)

I'll side with my dear God above,
The world may now alone continue.
God with me, and I with God,
And I'll myself find scorn
For the treach'rous tongues about me.

6. Chorale (S, A, T, B)

In thee I've placed my hope, O Lord,
Help me not be to ruin brought,
Nor evermore derided!
This I pray thee,
Uphold thou me
In thy true love, Almighty!

1. Cf. 2 Sam. 3:27.

2. Here the translation is made to rhyme
in order to draw attention to the interesting rhyme of the original:
Feind, Freund, meint.

===============================

I'm persuaded by an existentialist interpretation.
If, as Kierkegaard (and other writers) claim,
God is inwardness or subjectivity, - then the author of
this text is dramatizing the dialectic of society and self,
of objectivity and subjectivity, - a contrast to which it
seems to me Bach as artist was extraordinarily sensitive.

While driving north on Route 81, enmeshed in traffic,
with 52 feet long trucks weaving around our modest minivan,
we listened to other cantatas, serially to the brilliant
Christmas cantata No. 63, Christen aetzet diesen Tag,
in Metall und Marmorsteine,  (Christians etch this day
into metal and marblestone), a sentiment which reflects
the synthesis, albeit of questionable validity, of the
contradictions decribed in Cantata # 52. If I took the time
to write about all the intervening Cantatas, I would never
have a chance to describe how, last night at 2 a.m.,
I lost my way in downtown Boston.

This evening, the computer server at the University of Calgary,
which functions as a repository for all the cantata texts
and translations, is balky. I can't retrieve the text of
Cantata 57. I'll put off writing to you about that cantata
which I find very remarkable, to some other time.

As for getting lost in downtown Boston, that happened when
I drove to the airport to fetch Klemens, whose plane from
Chicago had been delayed for 3 hours by thunderstorms.
It would finally arrive at 2:30 a.m. In the middle of the
night, the drive from Belmont to the airport shouldn't
take more than half an hour. As usual, I entered the
Turnpike at the Cambridge Exit, but no sooner had I paid
my $1.25 toll, than signs informed me that the Turnpike
was closed for repairs at Copley Square. I thought then
I would drive across the Back Bay on Berkeley Street and
take Storrow Drive past the Infirmary and Mass. General
to Leverett Circle and there enter the highway tunnel from the
other end. But the entrance to I-93 south at Leverett Circle
was also closed by a different construction project.
I cruised through the North End, down Atlantic Avenue,
looking for the entrance to the Sumner Tunnel to take me
under the harbor to the airport. In vain. My contact
lens became foggy; directional signs were either poorly
illuminated or non-existent. I knew where I was, but I couldn't
identify the proper turns.  Finally I did find a ramp to I-90,
the signs confused me. Instead of east to the airport,
I found myself driving in the wrong direction, west, toward
Worcester.  The first exit, many miles down the highway,
was Cambridge-Allston, where I had previously entered.
I paid another $1.25 toll, left the Turnpike and drove
into town on Storrow Drive, then alongside the Public
Garden, down Arlington Street, turned left on Stuart Street
and finally found the Turnpike entrance at South Station, 
but no signs to I-90 East, where I needed to go. Instead,
I found myself on I-93 south, as if on my way to Hyannis.
But I knew now what to do.  At the Morrissey Blvd, JFK
Library exit, I left I-93 south, crossed the Interstate
on a bridge,  navigated a traffic circle and found the ramp
to I-93 north, finally confident that I could identify
I-90 east to the airport. Klemens to whom I had explained
my predicament by cell phone, had waited for me about
20 minutes, was very tired, but in good humor.
We drove back to Belmont without incident, and arrived home
at 3:30 a.m. At 9 o'clock I drove Klemens to his office in
downtown Boston, then I went to the post office, to certify
Form 5500EZ for the IRS.  It is due sometime in July, but
the forms hadn't been available until after we had left for
Virginia. Next, to Cambridge Savings Bank to have my signature
guaranteed in an effort to persuade TIAA-CREF to disgorge the
$2010.00 which was all that remains in Margrit's retirement
account. But no, the assistant manager was very friendly,
but said he couldn't guarantee my signature without proof
of my appointment as administrator for Margrit's estate. 
I drove home, fetched the letter of qualification, but this
time I drove to Cambridge Trust Co., on Trapelo Road. Their
parking lot is more convenient, and the sun was getting hotter
and hotter.  Finally I obtained my signature guarantee, and
went grocery shopping.  Having unloaded the car of groceries,
I limped upstairs to lie down on the bed, and slept solidly
for three hours.

Nothing yet from the Appeals Court. Before leaving Konnarock,
I reviewed some of their cases on the Internet. I found that
they do have a 130 day limit for deliberation, but they don't
feel constrained by any rule. Not even their own. They
reserve the right to suspend the limit when it suits them;
and often they don't even bother with the formal suspension.
They have all the power, and wasn't it Edmund Burke who
pointed out that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts
absolutely. At this juncture, my father would have commented:
"Froehliche Weihnachten" (Merry Christmas) even though it's
the middle of summer. But it may indeed be Christmas - or
later, before I hear from them.

I hope the lives of yourself and Ned are less arduous.
Stay well.

Jochen