Stacy Horn

I was researching the descendants of Abraham Lincoln the other day and I learned that Mary Todd Lincoln, Lincoln’s granddaughter, (Robert’s daughter, aka Mamie) was married to Charles Bradford Isham, and that she was what was referred to as a “choir mother” at Grace Church, where I now sing with the Choral Society of Grace Church.

I don’t technically know what a choir mother is, but I can guess. When Grace Church decided in 1892 to have a vested choir of men and boys, they also built a boarding school to house and educate the boys. I’m guessing the choir mother was there to look after and be a surrogate mother of sorts to the boys who were now away from their families?

I took this on the way to choir rehearsal last night. I love people. I love that someone painted this on a board built around a construction site. I’m also trying very hard not to think too much about the fact that in just a couple of hours I will once again be under the knife (oral surgery, related to a dental implant I may or may not be getting depending on how this second bone grft went, and I will find that out today).

I used to subscribe to People Magazine. There was a time when curling up with People was the highlight of my Friday afternoon. But at a certain point I aged out. I didn’t know half of the people they wrote about and it just wasn’t as fun for me anymore, and so I cancelled my subscription.

The other day however, I bought myself a copy to read as a treat after my oral surgery. When my surgery was postponed I went ahead and read it anyway.

What a complete let down. It wasn’t just that I didn’t know who they were writing about—even when I did the stories weren’t fun. I gave it some thought. What went wrong over there?

– Each piece is relatively shallow. There’s little research as far as I could tell. I get the distinct impression that whoever is left there hates their job and the subjects they are writing about. And they’re not given enough time or money to do a decent job. A quick google search, slap together a few photographs, done.

– Even more crucial, I think People Magazine has lost their juice. There were few stories about truly big stars and none seemed to have been done in cooperation with the stars they managed to cover.

– They used to do stories about all sorts of people who were the next big thing in other fields, like computers and new media. There was none of that. Instead there were human interest stories about people doing something heroic, which is fine, but they were written in an earnest, this-is-good-for-you way, and reading those pieces felt like homework.

I’m more focused on television than movies these days, but we are living in an unprecedented era of incredible, genius tv. There’s not just a few good shows, there are so many great shows I can’t watch them all even though I’m currently in-between books with plenty of spare time! There is no excuse not to have a magazine packed with coverage of all this mind-blowing talent that is out there. Come on!

No new pictures today. I took this around Christmas, because I was amazed to see a doll that looked so much like the person/character they are meant to portray.

Turns out, I’m having my oral surgery on Wednesday. This whole dental implant process has taken so long the NYU students that began the work are graduating in June and the implant still won’t be done. Ugh.

I took this picture of a construction site using my telephoto lens. I actually couldn’t really see what I was getting so I was happy to see the “Chris Heart Alex” graffiti later.

8:43: Amazing how close to an hour between posts I get. I’ve become distracted from the Golden Globes by impending PAIN, so probably no more blogging for me alas, not that I was really blogging them anyway!

7:42: I’ve been getting email about my surgery tomorrow. It’s impossible to relax.

6:42: I’m here. I’m a little late. Who did I miss? Claire Danes, I can’t believe she had a baby a month ago, Katherine McPhee was kinda cold to Ryan Seacrest, Zooey Deschanel was funny pointing out how Lucy Liu was oblivious last year when Zooey had to disengage her dress from Lucy’s, and Lena Dunham, not sure what to say, still loving the short hair.

Where are the cats? CATS? There’s one in the mess that is my coffee table.

I haven’t blogged in two days! Since when has something like that happened? I’ve had a cold, and tomorrow I’m going in for more oral surgery, so I haven’t been in the best of moods. Well, I’m going for a swim but I will be back later to blog the Golden Globes.

Like everyone else, I’ve been reading various articles about the recent suicide of computer genius/activist/hacker Aaron Swartz. This one by Lawrence Lessig is the one that got me. But then it led me on a sad side trip and the story of extensive sexual abuse that took place over decades at the American Boychoir School. That made me think of Chet Allen.

Chet Allen was the boy soprano who was chosen to sing Amahl in Gian Carlo Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors, which was written for television and broadcast on December 24, 1951. Allen suffered from depression his whole life and he finally killed himself when he was 45. I immediately wondered if Chet Allen was a member of the American Boychoir School, and could his depression have roots in sexual abuse as a child? I remember reading how he appeared troubled even at 12 when he won the part of Amahl, which should have been a wondrously happy time for him. I checked Wikipedia:

“At the time he was selected as Amahl, Allen was a soprano member of Columbus Boychoir, founded in Columbus, Ohio. The music boarding school relocated in 1950 to Princeton, New Jersey, and in 1980 was renamed the American Boychoir School.”

Oh god. Is it possible? Except according to the lawsuit Lessig brought forth, the abuse started in the 1970s. Were any of the people from the 1970s there in the 1950s? Well, that will possibly be a sad research project for someone. Anyway, my sad side trip just seemed to underscore the distorted sense of justice we have in this country.

In any case, if I decide swimming is not a bad idea, hopefully I will be back later feeling energized and more myself. (That will all go to hell tomorrow of course, following oral surgery!)

The whole time I was taking this picture I was asking him, “That’s comfortable? Really? That’s the story you’re going with?” He was resting there, just like that.