The King’s New Hair

by Madeleine Kando

Many years ago there was a King of a mighty country who was so enamored of his hair, that his big palace was chock full of mirrors. He loved walking down the long, golden-studded hallways, looking left and right to admire his reflection. Sometimes he ended up with cramps in his neck, but a good night’s sleep in his huge canopy bed with the mirror on the ceiling took care of that.

This King did not care about reviewing his army or attending important meetings. All his servants, cooks, and numerous gardeners were told to carry a mirror around and whenever they crossed the King’s path, they kneeled and held up the mirror, so his highness could admire his ever-so-beloved hair.

Unfortunately, since hair is no great friend of aging, our beloved ruler found to his horror that his hair was starting to grow dangerously thin.

He spent most of his time experimenting on which side of his head his increasingly sparse hair should be combed. His Advisor in Chief had once commented on how regal he looked when his sparse hair was combed to the left, so from that moment on, everyone in his royal presence had to wear their hair to the left. 

Many strangers came to curry favors of the great King. Russian Kings, Chinese Ambassadors, and North Korean Diplomats were seen entering the Palace, carrying large mirrors.

One day, among these many guests, came a barber from a faraway land. He let it be known that he could create the most magnificent hairdos. Not only were his scissors and combs uncommonly fine, but also once he had created a hairstyle, he said, the masterpiece would be invisible to anyone who was unusually stupid or not fit for office.

‘Wouldn’t that be incredible?’ the King thought, ‘This barber can make my hair abundant, flowing gorgeously in the wind, just like my mother liked it. I will be the envy of all and I will immediately know who is unfit for their job, in other words, who did not agree with me!’

The next morning, the barber (his name was Figaro), was summoned to the royal bedchamber and got ready to perform his incredible craft. ‘Your majesty’ he said humbly, ‘I must warn you. I have to shave your head before I can create a new beautiful hairstyle. This is the secret ingredient of my oh-so-incredible craft.’

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Our Trip to the Solar Eclipse

by Madeleine Kando

We left Boston early Sunday morning, the day before the 2024 Solar Eclipse. We have friends who live close to the Canadian border, who invited us to watch it from their house. The path of the eclipse crosses their property, as it travels from Mexico to Maine, so we did not hesitate to accept their invitation.

After countless visits to ‘Bear Rock’, the place where our friends live, we have developed a routine. The small town of Plymouth, New Hampshire has become our pit stop on this five-hour journey. We stop for coffee and muffins before we enter the White Mountains. In the hazy distance, we see the mighty snow-covered Mount Washington, branded as one of the deadliest mountains in the world. It is not particularly tall at 6,000 feet, but has some of the most extreme weather, with the highest surface wind speed ever observed by man – 231 miles per hour.

We drive through Franconia Notch, a major mountain pass, which was home to the Old Man of the Mountain, a rock formation in the shape of a face. But in 2003 the Old Man first lost his nose and then completely collapsed. Still, the notch is impressive with or without it.

Our friends are a breed apart. Almost half a century ago, they bought a piece of land for a smitten in this forgotten nook of New Hampshire. They are city transplants, and living in an area where everyone has known each other since they were born, they will always be the couple from ‘somewhere else’. They live a solitary life, with their two horses on 300 acres. But they love it.

As we drive up to their house, we see Marc on the porch looking up at the sky, testing his eclipse glasses. He fiddles with the glasses, looks up, and fiddles some more. He doesn’t see us. I call him, but he is hard of hearing and doesn’t hear me. Finally, he comes over in his slippers through the snow. We hug and go inside where we find Helen in front of the stove, preparing one of her delicious meals. Read more...

About Mozart

By Tom Kando

A good friend of mine recently asked me to provide her with a few comments about Mozart, and the social significance of his music. Here is my reply: Hi Gail,

Mozart! 

Many people think that he was the greatest composer ever. Everyone agrees that he was one of the three greatest (the other two being Bach and Beethoven). Mozart died at thirty-five, and even so managed to compose over eight hundred works. The Requiem (to which you were just listening) was his last composition, one of the few works with a magnificent but somewhat somber character. 

He was a child prodigy, and his compositions matured as he got older. His operas, piano and violin concertos, his quartets, his symphonies got better and more imposing as he matured. Mozart was also a virtuoso on the piano, the violin and other instruments. His father was also a composer. He began Mozart’s musical education when Amadeus was still an infant. Unfortunately, their relationship was difficult. However, most of Mozart’s music is enormously happy . One of his few tragedies is his opera Don Giovanni, which contains a moral condemnation of promiscuity (Don Giovanni goes to Hell). 

Have you seen the movie Amadeus? (1984). A must. One of the greatest movies ever made. However, don’t accept it literally. It takes many liberties with the facts of Mozart’s life. Even so, the movie is correct in describing Mozart dying in obscurity and only gaining justified recognition posthumously. Such is the fate of many geniuses in all the arts. Think of Van Gogh, Kafka and so many others! The problem with geniuses is that they are often far ahead of everyone else, much too brilliant to be recognized in their own time.

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An Air Travel Nightmare

By Madeleine Kando

Flying is like signing away your rights as a human being. Not only is your life put on hold, but you never know which side of providence your fate will fall.

On my most recent flight to Spain, I thought lady luck had smiled on us, but after we were all seated in the full, upright, and locked position, our carry-ons stowed away, we were told that there was a slight problem with one of the landing lights, which would only take 20 minutes to fix. I could see Lady Luck start packing her bags and by the time we were told that unfortunately, they needed to wait for a replacement part to be flown in, she had stepped out of the plane altogether.

We were 'deplaned' and asked to wait at the gate, where we were offered complimentary refreshments, a euphemism for the familiar constipation-causing mini pretzels and soft drinks. What would that incoming plane do without the part we would be stealing from it, I wondered? Probably wait for another plane to come in, have those passengers wait 2 hours, and so on, ad infinitum.

As I was observing my co-passengers, some struggling with fretting, hungry babies, others snoring away or talking on their cell phones, I couldn't help but admire the collective patience and goodwill that filled this cold and sterile space. No cursing or yelling, no angry kicking, just a group of docile, well-behaved human beings.

We were finally allowed to board again and I was hoping that my connecting flight from Dublin to Malaga would also have some part missing so that it would not leave without me.

After a few hours, I take out my phone to write notes. I do that, so I won’t forget the details of an event, which I later want to incorporate into one of my silly stories. I keep my phone on the window side, away from my neighbor, and start typing. ‘Here I am packed like a sardine, afraid to ask the heavy-set Irish woman next to me to stand up, so I can go to the bathroom’.

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