The 2024 Election and Beyond

It's been just over a week since the election, and I'm still processing, but feel the need to get my thoughts out so I can deal with them better. I apologize now if they are all over the place. It may also be interesting in the future to look back on this moment and see how I was feeling in this time of transition.

Although transition is a strange thing. I saw an interview I related to with an athlete recently where he described his support for his trans-daughter as a transition for him, not for her. She simply is who she is, and he had to adapt and change based on a shift in his own expectations. 

That's how I'm feeling about our nation right now, but in a harsh kind of light instead of an uplifting one.

I want to rage against the foolishness and cruelty. I want to see people who voted against their own interests have it boomerang back in their faces. I want the people down the street with their "Trump 2024: Fuck your feelings" flag to understand how much worse they made our neighborhood for so many kids on the block. 

But I also need to decide who I am, and who I want to be. That person isn't hateful. That person doesn't revel in the pain of others or seek revenge. That person wants fairness and compassion for everyone, even for people who don't want to extend it to me.

That's hard to manage at a time where the presidency is being used as a get-out-of-jail-free card, "Your body, my choice" is trending on social media, and things are looking frighteningly similar to Germany in the 1930s.

I hear a lot of people expressing shock that things have changed so drastically. And I am not going to downplay that, since I think respect for rule of law is gone and we are headed into a dark time for many, not just here, but everywhere.

However, I think what we are seeing is what was always here. America was built on lofty ideals paid for with genocide and slavery. There have been advances and change, which are the parts of my country that I had pride in, but we've never paid those early debts or healed any wounds. 

What we are looking at now is white supremacy without filters.

The same people that are here today were here a few weeks ago. I'm just seeing them differently, because this isn't a disagreement over politics, it's a fundamental split over morality.

If you voted for Trump, you have made this world less safe for people I care about, and I cannot forgive that. 

If you voted for Trump, you voted against decency. You threw my daughters under the bus for what you hope will be lower prices, even though on a global level we have one of the highest standards of living in the world already. Instead of asking why things are expensive, we should be asking why people aren't paid properly for their labor so they can afford what they need. 

If you voted for Trump, you voted against the environment. Places and animals and plant species will be destroyed that will be gone forever, and that is unconscionable.

If you voted for Trump, you did it for reasons that boil down to greed and indifference to other people's suffering.

If you voted for Trump, I no longer trust you. I don't know yet if you can earn it back.

I am angry. I feel helpless. I am ashamed of the path our country is on.

I'm a cis-het white woman raised in a white community. I'm sure I still don't fully understand my privilege, but being thrust into a vulnerable space post-election, it's clearer than it was before. I've taken the level of freedom many of us enjoy for granted.

For perspective, I've been thinking a lot about the African-American community. They did not, on the whole, appear to have the same gut wrenching reaction in 2016 that white liberal voters did, because they never expected a difference in their own outcomes based on the choices offered. Even a cursory glance over Black History in this country shows a system that has dehumanized and terrorized black people here from the start. White supremacy requires we don't look at that. Which is why I hadn't heard of the Tulsa Massacre until nearly it's 100th anniversary, and why Oklahoma public schools are only allowed to teach about it if they somehow omit race from the discussion. We may have the 24th amendment to address poll taxes, but we still have the 13th that provides a loophole for slave labor if people are in prison. You just have to look to Tamir Rice (and a long list of others) to know we have not progressed from Emmett Till. Abuses of "medicine" in Tuskegee may technically be in the past, but higher mortality rates for pregnant women in the African-American community regardless of income is alive and well. Red lining, how education is funded, stop and frisk, the fact that I should be able to look around the orchestras I play in and see faces that reflect my city at large and yet seldom do I get to play with black musicians despite Milwaukee only being about a third white, are all evidence that we have a fundamental problem. 

Racism is this country's original sin. Sexism is its adopted abused sister.

There is an enormous amount of inspiration to be taken from the experience of black people in America. American culture is black culture. Jazz, Blues, Hip-hop, innovations in dance, art, fashion, food, comedy, writing... All created in pockets of community within a hostile culture at large, where lynchings still happen and the police and courts are viewed as a threat rather than protection. That's true for other communities that suffer oppression here, from LGBTQ+ communities, to Hispanic culture, to the indigenous people whom this country has tried to annihilate in every conceivable way and which persist regardless.

So here we are in 2024, and as depressed as I (justifiably) feel about many things, I remember history is a long story of injustice and imperfection and suffering. We've been lucky to live in a time and place where incredible possibilities have existed and wondrous things are occasionally achieved. Can I really look at friends who have come here from places like Cuba and Venezuela, or talk to people whose relatives survived the Holocaust, or read stomach churning news about women trying to survive under the Taliban without losing their lives or their minds, and really give up hope here?

I am not that delicate, or callous.

I've turned away from the news lately because there is only so much I can take without feeling the physical effects of panic. That helps no one. I've turned toward more music, which is better for my soul anyway. The song with lyrics that resonate with me the most when I am at my darkest moments is The Heart of Life by John Mayer. I only seem to find this song when I'm feeling overwhelmed, and it reduces me to tears while making me feel I need to get up and keep going.

If we are lucky, the pendulum will eventually swing the other way. Not until a lot of damage that can't be undone has happened, but there is hope the system will remain and give us another chance to advance toward things like "diversity, equality, and inclusion" which have somehow been distorted into something to fear rather than strive for in our society. I suspect the people coming into power will not find it as easy to govern as they imagine. They don't have a mandate as much as they have a facile and demanding electorate that they can't deliver as many of their promises to as they believe.

If we are unlucky, and there is no more pendulum to swing as the system collapses into chaos, then collectively we didn't deserve it. I don't know what comes next. I will just do the best I can. I recommend people read the Declaration of Independence if you haven't recently. The list of grievances against the king is eerily familiar. Maybe if it all falls apart, we can divide up and reboot. I'll choose the side that actually believes in the Constitution, because despite its myriad flaws, it's still an excellent blueprint for creating a decent society.

When I talked to my oldest child who was looking at the election results from her college dorm room and feeling scared, it took tremendous effort to find words to share with her. Her dad told her we'd be okay, but that misses the point. As a straight white man in America, of course he'll be okay. He's not being targeted, so even as he's worried for us and others, it doesn't hit him in the same visceral way it does, say, women, who already weren't seeing justice for rape victims now watching a sexual abuser being elevated to the White House for the second time by people who somehow don't care.

I did not tell my daughter it was going to be okay, because much of it won't be. This is hard, and any decent person witnessing the destruction that is coming should be upset. However, I told her that even though millions of people voted for Trump, almost as many millions did not. Those people are still here, and still willing to do the right thing. I told her she has a family that will circle the wagons to protect her, and any of her friends who need to feel safe. I told her we will do the best we can. I reminded her there is still beauty in the world, and good people, and there is always hope as long as we choose it. The things we loved yesterday are still here today, and they are worth protecting. That's our job now.

What am I going to do going forward? The same as before. I will make things, fix things, help people in front of me who need it, and try to leave the world a little better today than yesterday if I can. 

I can only control myself. I cannot reason with people who want to believe in lies, or whitewash history, or who don't have enough imagination or empathy to understand that there are needs beyond their own, or ways of life that are as equally valid as what they have been taught to value.

I will not let the greed and recklessness of others rob me of joy and appreciation of this one life I get to live. I am disgusted and disappointed in my country, but it is still my home, and I will try in my own small way to make it what I think it should be: A decent place where freedom is protected for everyone.

Are you looking for The Insect Epiphany?

Dr. Barrett Klein—entomologist, professor of biology at University of Wisconsin LaCrosse, and brother extraordinaire—has a book out!

The Insect Epiphany is available "everywhere books are sold" as the line goes. 

You can hear Barrett talk about his book on Science Friday! (How cool is it that my brother was on Science Friday?)

He's been on a ton of podcasts and shows recently, and got to showcase his book at the recent Wisconsin Book Fair in Madison WI, which I hope gets people interested in what technically is a niche kind of book. But it isn't, really, because it touches on all of humanity and our place within this world alongside nature and our insect neighbors.

Other reasons to check out The Insect Epiphany if you know me, would be some artwork by my mother Karen Anne Klein, as well as a picture of a viola I made (that I play on) and how that relates to the contributions of insects in our culture.

But truly, the best reason to read this book is that it is an extension of Barrett himself. I wish everyone could know Barrett. His enthusiasm is contagious, and his kindness and curiosity come through on every page of The Insect Epiphany. He is brilliant and fun, and his appreciation of the world and its insect inhabitants is both inspiring and touching.

I love my brother, and I love that through this book I can share some of what makes him special. Go get this book.
 

 

Time for a bit of lutherie techno-babble

I've been working on three instruments. I started them more than two years ago, but building time is hard to come by on an average day. When I really need to make progress, I wind up doing most of my work between midnight and 2 a.m. I've been putting in a lot of those late nights recently because aside from needing to get these instruments into the (very patient) players' hands, there is a convention with a competition coming up in November that I would like to have an instrument for. If I can reach a point where I can start varnishing before the middle of October, I think I'll make it.

I share what I do online, both on Facebook and Instagram. I like answering questions for people who know little if anything about the process, and comparing notes and techniques with fellow luthiers who may do some steps differently. I make a point to stop and take a picture when I'm at a stage that would be visually interesting, but I don't share everything.

Among the things I don't tend to share are certain setbacks or mistakes. Not really because I'm embarrassed—mistakes happen and are often a good learning/teaching opportunity—but because the kinds of things that come up would take too long to explain, and I don't have a lot of time to spare. There are also sometimes things I have to ponder and make decisions about that are equally hard to explain succinctly. So I thought I might take a moment to lay out an example of that kind of problem here.

The most recent step I've been working on is graduating my back plates. I get the arching—the curvature of the outside of the plate—finished first, and then the scooping out of the inside of the plate is done with a combination of goals in mind.

As with most steps in violin making, I start with the largest possible tool, and work my way down to tools that remove smaller amounts of wood as the process becomes more refined. In the case of graduating, I start with large arching gouges, then move down to finger planes, and finally to scrapers.

 

 

I wrap my fingertips but I still got a small blister this round

 

So the factors involved that inform what wood I move from where and how much are: Thickness forming certain symmetrical patterns, tap tones related to the final pitches created on the top plate, flexibility, and weight. 

I have some basic patterns I learned in school that I form by measuring in from the edges of the plate to areas known as the break points and stop, as well as a "thin spot" that parallels the outline, the center, and some transition places. I check the thickness of the plate at these points with a set of calipers, and keep adjusting until I have the symmetry I want and the measurements I'm looking for. The school patterns are a starting point. I have a few ways of flexing the plate in my hands to see if it feels right, and if it's too stiff, I keep removing wood until I like it better.

I also start checking tap tones. There are two I'm interested in: One where you hold the plate at the thin spot along the upper bass bout and tap where the soundpost will eventually go, and one where you hold it in that soundpost area and tap a lower edge. I hum the pitches I hear into a tuner (currently using a link on my laptop) and note the pitches. Ideally, I want that first tap tone to be within a whole step of the octave tap tones I got when graduating my top plate, and the second tap tone to be a third, fourth, or fifth away from the first. My teacher's mantra about this, however, was "Don't hang on tap tones." They are the least important of the factors I'm trying to achieve, but still of interest, and if I can manipulate them to where I want, I do.

The final thing is weight (measured in grams) which I'm rather new to. We didn't discuss weight as a factor in school, but I suspect it generally falls in line when you accomplish the first three things. I discovered in discussions with luthiers over the past few years how many prioritize weight in the graduating process. The weight to aim for varies based on density and quality of the wood, but there is still a range that is useful to know.

Viola plate telling me how much more wood to remove

Now with all of those factors laid out, here's how my graduating went this round. 

The Amati model violin that I'm making for my daughter ended up 4g heavier than I wanted, but I like the flexibility. The tap tones were confusing. The top plate was a clear F, but the soundpost tap on the back alternated in my ear between sounding like an F# (yay!) or a C# (boo!). I know there are overtones, and both pitches are probably present, but I feel better when I get one clear pitch. I really didn't want to go thinner anywhere. I was pushing it with my measurements because I wanted to bring it into the better weight range, but I decided since the flexibility was there, I'm not going to worry about the last bit of weight. I can't drop below certain numbers without compromising structural integrity. Here's a picture of the plate held up in front of my bench light so you can appreciate how thin it is.

The viola I managed to get down to a weight I'm happy with, and good flexibility. The tap tones I think are okay, but the top was the one this time where the pitches were confusing, so it was hard to know what to match to. The graduation was definitely on the thin side, but that's where it apparently needed to be in order to flex properly.

The Guarneri model violin as of this writing I am still pondering a bit. I'm scared to take it any thinner, but I still don't like the way it's flexing, and the weight is almost 10g too heavy. The tap tones are great, but I'll probably have to sacrifice those to trying to make the plate less stiff. But I have no idea where to take the weight from right now. I may switch to tuning my bass bars for a while and come back to it.

Part of what makes violin making interesting is that it's never the exact same process twice, and there are always ways to improve your skills. Occasionally a step will go perfectly, and there is certainly satisfaction in that. But most of the time there is problem solving to do, and new circumstances to try and hone your abilities. 

I think often about my mom describing how as an artist, when she used to work almost exclusively in watercolors, that the day a painting came out exactly as she had imagined it and there were no surprises, it inspired her to move on to a new medium. Craft is about replicating things cleanly. Art is about exploring something new. The beauty in violin making is working in that crossroads, where you are creating a tool that needs to work properly, and also making it uniquely your own.

Each new instrument gives me the chance to try and improve upon what I've done before. I can't wait to hear how these latest instruments sound. And I already have ideas for the next batch.

Summery Summary

 

This summer has been a lot, and it went by too fast. Time to jot some of it down before it all slips away!

On the travel end of things, it's been a simpler year. No mandolin adventures abroad, no camping trips or visits out west. We managed a trip to our cottage in Michigan for a few days where the highlight was that we finally had both the money and sense to arrange for someone to deep clean it before we got there. We don't have enough time when we visit to both clean it and relax, and the point of going is to relax, so the cleaning was overdue. The maid was wonderful, and even found a new arrangement for the twin size beds upstairs that at first we balked at because it was new (and at the cottage we seldom strive for "new") but after a few moments had to concede was much better.

Cookouts and walks and board games. I think often about how my grandmother used to spend a full month at the cottage every year, and how nice it would be to settle in there like that. Someday. When I'm not as needed to do so many school repairs over summer.

 

 

 

We also had someone come in and update all the electrical stuff, which was another thing that was overdue. Now we can do exciting things like use the microwave for more than 30 seconds at a time without tripping the breaker.

Unfortunately, we may need to budget for a new roof at the cottage as the next big thing. I really don't want to pay for another roof. We had to do that on our first house, the garage for that house, our current house, the violin store building, and my husband's childhood home in Oregon before we could sell it this summer. That's too many roofs! Oh, and selling a house two time zones away? Not fun. But after two years it was time and I'm glad someone will get to enjoy living in that nice little neighborhood.

The other travel we did this summer was all related to the Celebrating Women Luthier's exhibit. I had the two instruments I'd made for two of my kids on display, along the scroll I carved that will go on the third soon. It was a marvelous exhibit that started at Potter Violins in the Washington DC area, and then moved on to Reuning and Son in NYC (down the street from Carnegie Hall), a surprise stop at the Reuning and Son shop in Boston, and finally at Sapp Violins in the Chicago area.

We did a road trip to NYC (with fun stops to stay with family in Ohio each direction), and that was amazing. I don't normally get to include my family in my luthier-world events, but at Reuning and Son I was part of a panel discussion where my mom, husband, kids, brother, and sister in law all got to attend. I loved that. My brother and his wife arranged for us to stay in their next door neighbor's place (which was vacant at just the right time) in Washington Heights, which is always a joy. Prettiest part of Manhattan in my opinion, and we enjoyed walks to Fort Tryon Park and the Cloisters. We ate well mostly because we ate in most nights and my sister in law is an incredible cook. We also ate out at a Turkish restaurant one night that we could bring the dogs to. And not a typical stop on most visitors' trips to NYC, but I was really pleased to get to see my brother's new office at the Child Mind Institute.

In no particular order, here are some New York pictures:

View of the Hudson River on our walk to the Cloisters.

 Kids at the obligatory visit to the Nintendo Store, and at the Cloisters.

 

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 Dog cousins!

Homemade lime cheesecake with fresh berries at the end of a delicious feast our final night.

 

Insanely intricate miniature carvings on display at the Cloisters. (I own a lot of tools, and I have no idea how I would approach trying to carve something like this.)

 

Aden on the balcony of the room she stayed in.

 

Subway Domino!

  

My brother's apartment is both the doors on the left, and the place we stayed is the door on the right. Interestingly, those two side by side apartments are technically in different buildings. We never take it for granted that we have such a lovely place to stay when we are in New York. Also, Pepper!

 

Outside the new digs for the Child Mind Institute! They have some excellent art inside. Also, Domino the subway dog in a bag!

 

Some of my family and friends at Reuning and Son for my panel talk. Such a pretty space!

Panel selfie!

It worked out very well for me that I crossed paths with a friend heading to DC in time to deliver my instruments to the beginning of the Celebrating Women Luthiers exhibit, and that the last stop was in Batavia IL where I could not only attend the opening, but pick my instruments up at the end of the show. The event at Sapp Violins was incredibly nice. I got to drive in with a fellow luthier, and meet my other brother there and show him around. We arrived early and stayed late and enjoyed every minute of it. Here's even a shot of someone playing one of my instruments, which is always a treat.

Speaking of lutherie... I've been doing my best to make progress on the two violins and viola I've been working on forever. For a plethora of reasons, I'm behind schedule, but my current goal is to maybe have something done in time to enter in this fall's Violin Society of America competition. We'll see.

 

 

The main impediment to my work lately has been pain. 

My right knee started to hurt back in February, and by St Patrick's Day, I ended up in urgent care because I couldn't walk. After x-rays and ultrasounds I still can't tell you what's wrong with it, but they sent me to PT before opting for anything invasive. PT helped, although I honestly am never sure if the main factor for healing is simply time. About a month ago the physical therapist gave my right knee a passing grade and let me go. Now the left knee is failing in the same way. I'm doing the exercises I learned in PT, but it's hard. Some nights the pain keeps me awake. Moving in any way is difficult. You don't realize how much you twist and shift your legs in bed until it hurts every time you do it. 

Chronic pain is demoralizing. It lures your focus from everything you'd rather be doing, and it's boring.

And sitting on any chair where my knees are pitched too high is excruciating. I've been avoiding mandolin rehearsals this summer, partly because after ten minutes in a folding chair my knee feels like it's screaming at me. I may have to bring some kind of cushion when orchestra starts up soon or I don't think I'll get through it.

I have another appointment with the sports doctor soon, and I hope she can help. (Considering how much I have always detested running, the idea that my injury is connected in any way to something like "sports" is very funny to me.) I miss being able to walk without having to think about it.

Fun things this summer!

My kids have really upped their game with Mother's Day breakfast in bed.

I started a little Domino painting on our garage, but I can't finish it until my knees are good enough to get that low again. I don't think the dog approves.

The goofiest non-violin project in my shop is gluing up the oddest snow globe I've ever seen. One of my kids bought it for her little sister last year, and it's inexplicably a seagull standing next to a littler seagull in a snow globe. So I need to put that back together at some point.

Between graduation requirements and participation in the National Honor Society, Quinn needs lots of volunteer hours. We did some of that this summer by signing up every few weeks to make bag lunches for an organization called Street Angels that works with homeless people in our area. She's gotten really good at shopping for, and assembling, 50 lunches at a time.

I think my favorite summer project has been making a cube mosaic display for my violin shop. I have wanted to do that since we opened in 2008, and I finally decided I needed to make it happen rather than think about it. It took me a while to build the box, and then find the right dolly to prop it up, but I'm happy with the result. Although there was a prolonged issue with getting my bulk cubes. I ordered 240 stickerless speed cubes to start, but after playing with some designs, decided it would be worth it to double the number of them to make a more detailed display. I ordered another 240 cubes, but through a mix up, I got sticker cubes. I returned those then had to wait for the stickerless ones to be back in stock. When those arrived, they didn't match the original cubes! I wound up exchanging the original box of cubes for more cubes that would match the newer ones. So that was more complicated and drawn out than I imagined it would be.

Mismatched cubes

480 cubes is a lot of cubes

 

In the end it all worked out, and I love the display. We run photos through a grid generator online that breaks the picture down into pixels a dozen cubes at a time, then I arranged the cube faces and Quinn lines them all up in the box. We've done two pictures so far, and plan to change it up again soon.

The only concert I played this summer was for Juneteenth with the Black Diaspora Symphony Orchestra. It was a powerful program that included pieces I feel lucky to have gotten the opportunity to play. The one I can't stop thinking about is

Dayvin Hallmon conducting rehearsal

Seven Last Words of the Unarmed by Joel Thompson. It's one of those things that is hard to recommend in a way, because it's devastating. But also very beautiful. It was emotional to play and kind of wrecked me a bit more each time we played it. This is an important composition that deserves to be much better known. 

I felt the same way about the music featured in the NYC concert of women composers at the lutherie exhibit. Some of the best music out there remains obscure because it isn't in the standard repertoire. We need to put more music by underrepresented groups front and center for all our benefit.

It's hard to stir the people in our house out of our own quiet projects, but we did go see a drone show downtown. We watched it near the North Point Water Tower. I really liked something akin to a fireworks show without the noise. (Domino does better with fireworks explosions in our neighborhood than Chipper did, but it still bothers her.)

There were several things we expected to do this summer that we either didn't get to or didn't finish, but I was proud of Aden for doing some work with the 3D printer. She made a small dog for a friend that was only a few inches tall, and really cute. One day she will make us a Domino design we can print out. Mona has continued to crank out more and more amazing plushies for her Etsy shop. (Check out the butter cats and the cheese mice!)

The main thing I'm annoyed not to have gotten to by now is my novel. I hired a lovely editor this year to give me notes, and I finally have a direction in mind for when I edit it. I just need actual time to sit down and do it. 

Time has been hard to come by this summer, but thankfully at work my assistant came back again and helped me get dozens of cellos fixed for the school system over the past couple of months. Cello work is particularly hard for me when it hurts to stand. So work has been extra busy, but thanks to my assistant, it didn't kill me.

We were hoping to organize a trip to Six Flags for Quinn and her friends before summer was up, but that required planning on the part of the kids involved, so that was likely doomed from the start. (This generation is impressive in many ways, but planning things is not one of their strong suits.) 

I can't believe school starts next week. Although I appreciate the abandonment of the mid-August calendar this year which got Quinn a longer summer than usual. She's a senior. My last kid in K-12! How did it go by so quickly?

Rufus King High School

 

I'm glad Aden was home this summer. I'm glad Mona is nearby. I'm assuming once Quinn decides on a college that she'll be home next summer before we deliver her to some new campus. But there is no way to know if we'll have another whole summer like this one with all five of us in the same place able to spend time with one another on a daily basis if we wish. I hope so. But I'm not counting on it.

Here's to diving into fall! I'm excited to see what awaits.