Hello and welcome, I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. A podcast meant for sharing thoughts, stories, enjoying idiomatic phrases and words in general. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. A special thanks to Chuy Darío, my very talented sound partner. If you hear a difference in the recording, it is because of him. Thank you, Chuy. Today, About the Umbrella.
 
This has been a long time coming. Gordon Sumner, a.k.a Sting, former member of the Police and once English teacher has an umbrella that I cannot get my mind off. The image of that umbrella has accompanied me over the years, and as you’ll see, he has been holding on to it for even longer. Let’s set aside the one-sidedness of these situations. I’m going to tell you about the umbrella and, oh I will be so bold as to tell you about the significance of the umbrella. Let’s not think too much about the arrogance in that and consider it more like an opening position. If you have ever thought about this particular umbrella, I’d like, scratch that, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Here we go.
 
It starts with a song that catapults me through the clouds. It mentions the umbrella. This very specific umbrella. It occupies my time, it holds my attention.  What color is it? Is it oversized? Is it a sober black or whimsical yellow? I don’t know what color it is, nor do I know how big it is. Is it inspired on Mary Poppins? Will it fly you away or bring you down to earth? Gordon Sumner, jazz/punk/reggae fusionist, repeats over and over again in his songs, it’s a big enough umbrella, but I always end of getting wet. So, the song… I’ve been fascinated with, for decades: Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, fascinated by the progression, the lyrics, the story and faces I imagine, the taunting phone. It is the nervous percussion and the whimsical, longing, piano.  For me, one of the most perfect songs and that melancholic umbrella that does little to protect Sting from getting wet, drives me crazy. I think he likes the rain; I think the umbrella might be upside down collecting raindrops. Also, I bet the umbrella is big enough, but there is no escaping the feelings that motivate artists and the everyday Joe alike. The great equalizer, just as rain soaks through our outer protective shells, no matter who we are, so do these feelings, either catching us off guard or sometimes on guard and consciously, lowering the draw bridge, waving them through. Please, cross the moat here, enter the castle, no no, the guards won’t stop you. That is a fallacy and illusion. We may have control over our reactions but not what we feel. He calls it magic, but it is physics and chemistry. Chemical reactions that I’m not so sure can be neutralized.
In Shadows in the Rain, he dances and toys with the idea of sanity. And ends up getting wet here too. He doesn’t even try to avoid it. He relishes the rain. He gives in to delusion. This song seems to provide a bit of the code. A piece of the puzzle.
 
Then, there is the 1983 O My God, a song that reveals his plight to be emptiness, perhaps a lack of faith connecting him to God. Rain and the umbrella make their appearance, as if, sweeping up after the song. There is no escaping the rain, regardless of the size of the umbrella. This umbrella must be red. Continue reading

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