Growing Native with Petey Mesquitey

As a public service, Monica and Bridgitte have a conversation about coronavirus and covid-19.

For More information here are some reputable sources of information.

Arizona Department of Health Services

and The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC)

Where we live in southeastern Arizona it has been a very wet winter with rain out in the flats and…

[caption id="attachment_62793" align="alignnone" width="413"] Cassandra Bendickson. Photo by Mindi Acosta of Fluteloop Photography.[/caption]   [caption id="attachment_62794" align="alignnone" width="413"] LuftBassoons. Photo by Mindi Acosta of Fluteloop Photography.[/caption]   [caption id="attachment_62795" align="alignnone" width="620"] LuftBassoons. Photo by Mindi Acosta of Fluteloop Photography.[/caption]   In this episode we hear from Cassandra Bendickson of LuftBassoons, a Tucson based band of bassoons on a mission to bring the magic of the bassoon everywhere and anywhere. Cassandra describes the variety of genres the quartet enjoys performing, and their grant-funded project aimed at bringing locally-composed music to their stage.  She describes new works composed by Jay Vosk, Russell Ronnebaum of Rogue Theater, Samantha Bounkeua of Rogue Violin, Dante Rosano of Two-Door Hatchback, and Marco Rosano of Orkesta Mendoza. Cassandra talks about this particular instrument and what drew her to it. We also have a conversation about impostor syndrome, (feelings of inadequacy that persist--despite success), and how she learned to take on challenges, even when (especially when) they scare her. Cassandra also talks about her artistic trajectory and her advice for emergent musicians today. Upcoming performances include:

March 12 at 6:30 - New Works Grantee Showcase at Brings Coworking Space

March 14 at 4pm - LBQ plays at Canyon Stage at Tucson Festival of Books at UA

March 15 at 3pm - LBQ plays at the Sahuarita Creative Arts Festival in Sahuarita

April 13 at 8pm - LBQ plays on KXCI Local's Only

April 18 at 7pm - World Premiere of New Tucson Works for Bassoon Quartet at Sea of Glass Performing Arts Center on 4th Avenue

June 23 at 1:30pm - LBQ plays in Iowa City, IA at the 2020 International Double Reed Society Convention

Exit Music: Cassandra Bendickson playing from a Bassoon Concerto by Vivaldi, Second Movement Listen to the full-length podcast by hitting play above (link to the mini below)!

 

[audio mp3="https://kxci.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/Luft-Bassoon-Mini.mp3"][/audio]

Dr. Arianna Sholes-Douglas has written a powerful book titled “The Menopause Myth.” Jennifer Davis-Paige talks with Dr. Arianna and Zsa Zsa Brown who has been suffering for years. Do you have any questions about menopause? Tune in for information that your mother, doctor and friends haven’t shared with you about life over 35.

If you have a story you’d like to share, contact us at [email protected].  

And now we’d like to hear from you. Share your comments with us at [email protected].

A visually enthralling documentary explores the potential benefits, on a planetary scale, of mushrooms. Mycology has been a relatively neglected subject over the years. It’s the study of mycelium, which is a term for the vegetative part of a fungus, consisting of thread-like filaments that bear fruit in the form of mushrooms. A new movie, written by Mark Monroe, and directed by Louie Schwartzberg, both veterans of documentary filmmaking, aims to remedy that neglect. It’s called Fantastic Fungi (fun-jai), or an alternate pronunciation would be fun-guy—in fact, it’s pronounced that way a couple of times in the film—but the overall consensus, it would seem, is “funjai.” Anyway, maybe this all sounds dull, especially if you’ve endured science films in high school, but it’s not. The film combines a lot of fascinating information with a marvelous visual style. From the beginning, Fantastic Fungi emphasizes what a massive presence mycelium has on our planet. Underneath the ground, virtually everywhere on earth, exists this vast network of myceliem cells, branching out and breaking down decaying organisms, recycling carbon, regenerating the soil, and fostering new life. So basic and transformative are fungi to our ecosystem that it’s not considered part of the vegetable kingdom, but as something quite apart, and something that has been with us for millions of years. The film’s special visual effects depict the reach of these filaments, that look like root systems, under our feet. It’s explained how they enable the sharing of nutrients between trees and other plants, like an organic underground internet connecting all life forms. When it comes to mushrooms themselves, Schwartzberg treats us to a lot of mind-blowing time-lapse photography in which we see their slow growth revealed rapidly on the screen. Mushrooms, fungi, and mold have conferred enormous medical benefits—the history of penicillin is briefly covered here—and there is some evidence that they can help eliminate pollutants. In the course of the film’s tribute to the mushroom, we meet a mycologist named Paul Stamets, who has spent his life walking in forests studying all the mushrooms he can find. Stamets was inspired by the research of Andrew Weil, and he in turn has inspired a host of younger mycologists, some of whom we meet. Stamets is a cheerful and eloquent tour guide for us, although at one point the film almost threatens to become a tribute to him instead of a survey of the science. Now, besides the amazing biological information about mushrooms that we are presented with, the film goes into the particular subject of the psilocybin mushroom and its psychotropic qualities. There is some speculation that the sudden expansion of the brains of ancient humans may have been partly caused by ingesting these mushrooms. A series of therapists and researchers talk about the proven results of controlled use of the magic mushroom to treat depression, PTSD, and other mental ailments. In addition, Stamets relates how his own elderly mother was cured of breast cancer by taking a variety known as “turkey tail mushrooms.” I think at times, especially near the end, Fantastic Fungi tries to oversell its message, as if mycelia and mushrooms are the panacea for everything wrong in the world. This overflowing enthusiasm is pretty common in documentaries like this. But having said that, I think one comes away from Fantastic Fungi convinced of the great potential that this life form offers for the benefit of humanity and the planet. It’s one of those rare films about science that inspires not only wonder, but hope.

On February 13, 2020, No More Deaths hosted a benefit entitled An Evening with Luis Alberto Urrea at El Casino Ballroom. Luis Alberto Urrea is the acclaimed author of 18 best-selling books. Born in Tijuana, Mexico to a Mexican father and an American mother, Urrea uses his dual-culture life experiences to explore greater themes of love, loss, and triumph. He lived in Tucson for a time in the 90s where he connected with some of his literary heroes, began The Hummingbird’s Daughter, and met his wife Cindy. He continues to be a frequent visitor to Tucson and has presented at the Tucson Festival of Books each year since its inception.

In part 2 of this 2 part series, Urrea responds to an audience question about The House of Broken Angels. Urrea's extended family throws one last birthday party for their patriarch just before he succumbs to terminal cancer. He also discussed a book that he is working on now about his Anglo mother who served in World War II.

No More Deaths is an advocacy group based in Tucson and Phoenix, Arizona, United States, that seeks to end the deaths of undocumented immigrants crossing the desert regions near the United States-Mexico border.

Recorded and produced by Amanda Shauger. This is part 2. Thank you for listening to 30 Minutes. You can find this and all recent episodes on the 30 Minutes program page at KXCI.org where you can find our social media links and subscribe to the podcast.

My goodness, there are times that I so miss the Sonoran Desert, especially when I leave the desert grassland and…

Mati Diop's first feature tells of a young woman in Senegal, grieving the loss of her lover who died at sea trying to migrate for a better life, and then finding herself challenged by what seems to be the presence of spirits.

The central dramatic figure of our time is the migrant, whose shifting, uncertain, and perilous fate reflects that of our world. Atlantics, the first feature film by Mati Diop, expands that metaphor to include the grief and injustice experienced by women, whose oppression makes them refugees in their own family and society. Diop is the niece of the revered Senegalese director Djibril Diop Mambéty, and her film was widely anticipated at Cannes last year, not only because of her uncle, but due to her own excellent short films that led up to this one. Atlantics won the Grand Prix at Cannes, the second most important award next to the Golden Palm, which went to Parasite.

The film begins like a realistic social drama. We see a group of construction workers in Dakar, the large coastal city in Senegal, building a huge futuristic looking office building in the city, an incongruous structure in the midst of a poverty-stricken landscape. The workers cause a disruption when they demand their back wages in the paymaster’s office. They haven’t been paid for months, their debt is piling up, and many face eviction for non-payment of rent. Their demands are denied.

Our focus then narrows onto one preoccupied laborer, Souleiman, played by Ibrahima Tauroré. After work, he meets up with a young woman he is in love with, Ada, played by Mame Bineta Sane. They kiss and cuddle near the beach; she says that she has to go and will see him tonight; he seems like there’s something he wants to say, but can’t. It turns out that Ada has been promised in an arranged marriage to a man from a wealthy, conservative family. Her family and friends keep telling her how lucky she is, but she’s been sneaking out at night to go to a little club on the shore, where girls socialize with the construction workers, and where she met Souleiman. Later that night, she goes out, but learns to her dismay that the “boys” have all left on a boat, embarking on the ocean to find a better life in Spain, and for the time being providing for their girlfriends from there, and with luck eventually returning. But as time goes on, these hopes vanish. It appears that the young men’s boat has capsized, and they have all drowned at sea.

The dominant mode of storytelling in our world is linear, logical, and “left brain,” so to speak. In contrast, Diop and her co-screenwriter Olivier Demangel, practice what you might call “right brain” storytelling. Dialogue and scenes proceed by intuitive association; imagery conveys emotions that are not precisely formulated in words. The gentle, sometimes languid pace of Atlantics creates the sense of a world that has long existed prior to our awareness of it, and as the film goes on, this world is suffused with supernatural elements that are presented without being explained.

Just as Ada’s heart is torn by grief while she is forced to marry a man she doesn’t love, she receives texts on her phone that make her think Souleiman may be back in Dakar. A police detective shows up investigating a case of arson that he believes was committed by Souleiman. And could it be that the spirits of the young men drowned at sea have now possessed the women they left behind, demanding the justice, and the wages, that they were denied in life?

The belief in spirits is a traditional one in Senegal, as it is in many places, and although there are nay-sayers in the story, the movie presents our everyday reality as surrounded by otherworldly influences. This serves to embody, more than anything, the grief and loss of the women in t

When I was little boy I thought the name yellow-bellied sapsucker was the funniest thing I’d ever heard and though…

When I was little boy I thought the name yellow-bellied sapsucker was the funniest thing I’d ever heard and though I did know it was some sort of bird, I took pleasure in calling a friend a yellow bellied sapsucker and laughing hysterically. I was a silly kid.

There are four species of sapsuckers (Sphyrapicus spp.) in North America and I read that where their territories overlap they hybridize making identification confusing. When identifying the yellow-bellied, red-naped and red-breasted sapsuckers a favorite field guide says to “beware of relatively frequent probable hybrids” between the three species. Now you know.

By the way, the vowel a in the name Sphyrapicus should be short not long, like the way I pronounced it. There are rules as to when a vowel is long or short in a Latinized scientific name, depending on which syllable it’s found. That said, over the years I guess my approach has been to plow ahead and say the name with some authority and I’m guessing some folks think, “Wow, I didn’t know that’s the way you say that.” My apologies. I will try to mend my ways.

The photo of the line of pecked holes on the trunk of the oak is mine. I don’t think I could do be that precise with an electric drill and ruler.

The photo of the male red-naped sapsucker is from Cornell Lab All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Red-naped_Sapsucker/id

Oh, and the field guide referred to above is: Finding Birds in Southeast Arizona from The Tucson Audubon Society. It’s in its eighth edition and it is to die for if you are an amateur (me) or expert birder.