Summer daze

So you begin this blog, you know, on fatherhood and music and the various connections between them, and you work on it for TWO YEARS, and you touch on classical music pretty regularly and all, and then you qualify for the Jeopardy! auditions in D.C., and you make it down there, and you even review your presidents and Oscar winners, and then suddenly you're asked to name, well, you're asked to name the composer of La Traviata.

And, somehow, after 225 posts on music, you actually don't know the answer. And you end up writing Rossini. Even if it was, in fact, Verdi. Giuseppe Verdi.

Oh, it's enough to hurt a man, it is (although, really, the abysmal, Rasputin-like initial photo and a clear lack of telegenic effervescence - for some reason, I just can't SHOUT my answer to How are you today? - had surely already doomed me). But will such a mistake erode, as it probably should, my blog readership, as well? Who wants to read musings on music by a man who doesn't know his music?

Well, perhaps you do. After all, here you are. But perhaps, if we're being honest, you really came for the photo of the adorable toddler, rather than the thoughts on music. And, if so, I'm feeling chastened enough to accommodate. Photo above, y'all. Enjoy.