It was a June Sunday many, many years ago. Perfect suburban Chicago weather, sunny, warm, green backyard grass, windows open. Mom and my sisters and I had gotten home from church earlier than my dad, who was counting money from the morning's services before running it to the Des Plaines bank and then coming home to a Sunday dinner and a ballgame on TV.
But his kids and wife had other plans. Father's Day plans! We (meaning:Mom) had gotten him a hammock from Sears for the backyard patio. I'm not sure Dad ever wanted a hammock but he was getting one today. We had to assemble the metal frame then string the canvas between the ends. Green canvas with white rope-y dangles along the side edges. We wanted to have it set up for him so that when he came home, he could go out and enjoy it while Father's Day dinner was prepared. The old man wouldn't have to lift a finger. It was His Day, after all. He earned it.
So we were excited to show it off to him. Mom had his card ready and was pleased that she was going to pull this off. He had no idea! It was going to be a total surprise!
We were in the kitchen when we heard him pull his Buick into the garage. We knew the routine so we had the timing down. He came into the kitchen through the garage door and saw his family standing there waiting for him. His wife and four kids, all smiles. All laughing! He was genuinely surprised! He got him! We got the Old Man! Happy Father's Day, Dad! Come on out here. Look! Out on the patio! We put it together just for you! Here's your card. Open it!
He opened the card. He looked out the door and saw his new hammock. The perfect summer afternoon. Just waiting for him. He saw his wife, beaming. His goofy kids giggling.
And then he looked at us and with a smile of his own said, "Father's Day? Today isn't Father's Day. Today's Flag Day. June 14th. Next week is Father's Day!"
And we froze before making a beeline to the calendar on the wall next to the phone.
June 14.
Sunday.
Flag Day.
June 21.
Sunday.
Father's Day.
And he just shook his head at the screwball family, stunningly celebrating Father's Day a week early.
We surprised him all right. Surprised him that we would mess up His Day!
But he did enjoy the hammock. The green backyard grass. The perfect summer weather. The Sunday dinner. The ballgame. And his goofy family.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
What did you learn today?
I used to ask my kids that question at the dinner table. After a day at work, for me, and a day at school, for them, I'd ask, "So what did you learn today?"
It was a fair question. We'd spent time apart, experiencing our days, going about our business, spending time with friends, co-workers, teachers. We must have learned something that day, right?
I got pretty typical shoulder shrug responses. Nuthin', they'd say. I knew they were wrong, of course. How could anyone go to school all day and not learn something they didn't know before they walked through the front door of that school in the morning?
But as they were going through their daily routine, it seemed like it was always the same kind of things they were experiencing. I'd do the same thing with my work. I'd go through the rituals involved in working in a printing plant. Make a buck, figure out ways to avoid boredom, don't get hurt, make everything right, work at a high level of competence and productivity, meet or exceed expectations. Go home, pick up the kids, cook some dinner, watch a ballgame, read stories.
Every once in a while something interesting, something out of the ordinary, would occur. Something big would capture our attentions for an hour or two or a day or two. We would process the event and go back to our routines.
Then we started waiting for big things to happen and forgot about the daily events that we were experiencing. Ignoring the seemingly unimportant daily matters. Pushing the routines way down the Priority List. Anticipating that Next. Big. Deal.
As I've lived this life of mine I've gotten to a point where I realize that the daily things are just as life altering as the big moments. It's something that I've known for a long time, really. I've known a lot of things for a long time. I've forgotten a lot of things for a long time, too. But I've gotten to this really interesting time of my life. I've grasped a certain understanding of how things work (or don't), of where I fit, my little cog in the Big Machine. I've gained a certain knowledge of who I am, where I've been and where I'm heading.
It's a comfortable feeling. A contentment.
It's called getting old, right???
Ha!
That's OK. That is what it is, after all. Travel around the sun fifty or sixty times and one does learn a few things. The perspective of age does that to a person. One sees the bigger picture. One experiences life's beginnings, middles and ends and can see the whole story arc. Youth isn't wasted on the young. It's right where it should be. And retirement isn't wasted on the old, either!
So the little things matter. As much as the big things. No more, no less.
Remember to enjoy the view!!
It was a fair question. We'd spent time apart, experiencing our days, going about our business, spending time with friends, co-workers, teachers. We must have learned something that day, right?
I got pretty typical shoulder shrug responses. Nuthin', they'd say. I knew they were wrong, of course. How could anyone go to school all day and not learn something they didn't know before they walked through the front door of that school in the morning?
But as they were going through their daily routine, it seemed like it was always the same kind of things they were experiencing. I'd do the same thing with my work. I'd go through the rituals involved in working in a printing plant. Make a buck, figure out ways to avoid boredom, don't get hurt, make everything right, work at a high level of competence and productivity, meet or exceed expectations. Go home, pick up the kids, cook some dinner, watch a ballgame, read stories.
Every once in a while something interesting, something out of the ordinary, would occur. Something big would capture our attentions for an hour or two or a day or two. We would process the event and go back to our routines.
Then we started waiting for big things to happen and forgot about the daily events that we were experiencing. Ignoring the seemingly unimportant daily matters. Pushing the routines way down the Priority List. Anticipating that Next. Big. Deal.
As I've lived this life of mine I've gotten to a point where I realize that the daily things are just as life altering as the big moments. It's something that I've known for a long time, really. I've known a lot of things for a long time. I've forgotten a lot of things for a long time, too. But I've gotten to this really interesting time of my life. I've grasped a certain understanding of how things work (or don't), of where I fit, my little cog in the Big Machine. I've gained a certain knowledge of who I am, where I've been and where I'm heading.
It's a comfortable feeling. A contentment.
It's called getting old, right???
Ha!
That's OK. That is what it is, after all. Travel around the sun fifty or sixty times and one does learn a few things. The perspective of age does that to a person. One sees the bigger picture. One experiences life's beginnings, middles and ends and can see the whole story arc. Youth isn't wasted on the young. It's right where it should be. And retirement isn't wasted on the old, either!
So the little things matter. As much as the big things. No more, no less.
Remember to enjoy the view!!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Me and Americana music
My musical tastes have been transitioning for a number of years now. Where I used to listen to a narrow field of music - electronica, prog rock, 60's British Invasion - I now can say that my focus has opened up to a more wide angle view.
It occurred to me, at one point, that I needed more variety. I had plenty of experience with the above music, and though it certainly had it's time and place (still does!), it became too cliche'd, too predictable, too monotonous.
One artist that I admire and have followed for many, many years is Neil Young. I have always loved his music as something that could challenge and propel my imagination. One sign of a terribly written song is the ability of the listener to guess the rhyming word from one line to the next, or the last word of the next line by hearing the last word of the current line. Predictability is death. And opposite that, uniqueness for uniqueness' sake is also death. But being clever and different and real are the the cornerstones of solid songwriting. Those are the enduring (and endearing) things.
Neil's songs can be hard to pin down. He changes dramatically from song to song, album to album, concert tour to concert tour.
But it's always real and true and challenging and enlightening. Take a walk with this guy and one never knows where the path will lead.
Now my musical tastes are geared more towards a larger scope of songwriting and performing. Diversity is key. There's plenty of room for the old stuff but the listening catalog is ever increasing and the new stuff is fascinating.
Susan and I have gone on three music cruises over the last four years. People ask what kind of music is it that attracts us to spend so much money, to go to such great distances, to become so engrossed? And we kinda think about the wide range of artists we've come in contact with through these cruises and we're hard pressed to come up with one central designation. But "Americana" seems to sum it up best.
Here's Darrell Scott on Americana music - "Roots music. I love that Americana is so hard to pin down. As soon as it gets too easy to understand, it may detract from the wonderful music that it is. It's a funny spot between Americana being promoted, talked about and understood, then defined. Once it's defined too specifically, it will get pigeonholed for everyone. I kind of like the hard-to-define place that the music is in. I want the music to be as free as it can be. It can be whatever the hell it wants to be. I mean, there's great Americana being made in Canada and even Ireland, so I don't mean for Americana to imply flag-waving or that it's only from here in the states. I do still think Americana is an alternative form. Bluegrass fits into Americana. Honky-tonk fits into Americana, and Texas Swing does too. I love that Americana's just a big, ol' messy catch-all that no one knows what the hell it really is. I want to keep it as weird as it can be. When it's defined, its power will be gone. Instead of that campaign in Austin to "Keep Austin Weird," I want to keep Americana indefinable."
I couldn't agree more!
Robert Plant turned down his previous bandmates so he could delve into Americana and the results were impressive!
Buddy Miller is an extraordinary talent and can create guitar sounds and effects with awesome results.
John Hiatt is a songwriter's songwriter with a Midwesterner's heart and wit.
Patty Griffin has the voice of an angel.
Emmylou Harris IS an angel.
Brandi Carlile is a powerful, newer talent with the soul of an old timer.
Americana is like gumbo. A blend of unexpected pleasures. One might hesitate in taking the first bite, not knowing what that combination is going to taste like, all messed together in one bowl. But after dipping into it and letting the flavors all run together, the spices sparking, the textures teasing, one can then sit back and enjoy the incredible moment. The "Ahhhh, that was perfect!" moment.
It occurred to me, at one point, that I needed more variety. I had plenty of experience with the above music, and though it certainly had it's time and place (still does!), it became too cliche'd, too predictable, too monotonous.
One artist that I admire and have followed for many, many years is Neil Young. I have always loved his music as something that could challenge and propel my imagination. One sign of a terribly written song is the ability of the listener to guess the rhyming word from one line to the next, or the last word of the next line by hearing the last word of the current line. Predictability is death. And opposite that, uniqueness for uniqueness' sake is also death. But being clever and different and real are the the cornerstones of solid songwriting. Those are the enduring (and endearing) things.
Neil's songs can be hard to pin down. He changes dramatically from song to song, album to album, concert tour to concert tour.
But it's always real and true and challenging and enlightening. Take a walk with this guy and one never knows where the path will lead.
Now my musical tastes are geared more towards a larger scope of songwriting and performing. Diversity is key. There's plenty of room for the old stuff but the listening catalog is ever increasing and the new stuff is fascinating.
Susan and I have gone on three music cruises over the last four years. People ask what kind of music is it that attracts us to spend so much money, to go to such great distances, to become so engrossed? And we kinda think about the wide range of artists we've come in contact with through these cruises and we're hard pressed to come up with one central designation. But "Americana" seems to sum it up best.
Here's Darrell Scott on Americana music - "Roots music. I love that Americana is so hard to pin down. As soon as it gets too easy to understand, it may detract from the wonderful music that it is. It's a funny spot between Americana being promoted, talked about and understood, then defined. Once it's defined too specifically, it will get pigeonholed for everyone. I kind of like the hard-to-define place that the music is in. I want the music to be as free as it can be. It can be whatever the hell it wants to be. I mean, there's great Americana being made in Canada and even Ireland, so I don't mean for Americana to imply flag-waving or that it's only from here in the states. I do still think Americana is an alternative form. Bluegrass fits into Americana. Honky-tonk fits into Americana, and Texas Swing does too. I love that Americana's just a big, ol' messy catch-all that no one knows what the hell it really is. I want to keep it as weird as it can be. When it's defined, its power will be gone. Instead of that campaign in Austin to "Keep Austin Weird," I want to keep Americana indefinable."
I couldn't agree more!
Robert Plant turned down his previous bandmates so he could delve into Americana and the results were impressive!
Buddy Miller is an extraordinary talent and can create guitar sounds and effects with awesome results.
John Hiatt is a songwriter's songwriter with a Midwesterner's heart and wit.
Patty Griffin has the voice of an angel.
Emmylou Harris IS an angel.
Brandi Carlile is a powerful, newer talent with the soul of an old timer.
Americana is like gumbo. A blend of unexpected pleasures. One might hesitate in taking the first bite, not knowing what that combination is going to taste like, all messed together in one bowl. But after dipping into it and letting the flavors all run together, the spices sparking, the textures teasing, one can then sit back and enjoy the incredible moment. The "Ahhhh, that was perfect!" moment.
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