Learnin’

Tags

life, living single, music

One thing I have learned in life is that it is real important to learn at least one thing a day, no matter how mundane or simple it is.  Learning to learn is a key to success and happiness in life.

What did I learn today?

Never sit on the leather sofa if you are going to leave the windows open on a 50 degree day and wander the house naked.  I can do that.  I live alone.  It’s also not a good idea to fry eggs while wandering the house naked.  Grease pops really, really, really leave a mark on sensitive areas.

I can’t wait to see what I am going to learn tomorrow.

(aren’t we all glad that I rarely post pictures on my blog?)

Old Man and the Pee

Tags

media, middle age, music, personal, stuff

I should be able to end this blog at the title.  It is an inspired title, one that simply came to me hour after hour one night while I tried to sleep.

OK.  Enough pee talk.  One benefit of sleeping with a CPAP is that night pees are no longer an issue.  As soon as that mask goes on, I don’t wake or stir (that I know of.. no family member has accused me of standing over their bed trying to stab them with a toothbrush.. at least not lately).

I was thinking nostalgic thoughts today.  In my office, I use Google Play on my phone, and the album choice of the moment was Journey’s ‘Infinity’ album.  As ‘Wheel in the Sky’ was playing, I realized that I was waiting to hear a KA-CHUNK and momentary pause at a certain point in the song.

♫♫Oh the wheel in the sk…. ka-chunk…(silence) keeps on turning♫♫

‘Infinity’ was one of the four eight track tapes that I had in my first car, a lovely red and rusty 1972 Plymouth Duster (or Ruster as it became known).  Whether it was REO Speedwagon (You Can Tune A Piano But You Can’t Tuna Fish), Ted Nugent or the Doobie Brothers, I now have permanent ka-chunk embedded in my mind for songs from those eight tracks.  Who could forget the rocking ‘Unidentified Flying kachunk Turkey Trot’?  I know I can’t.

Of course, there were those days where the tape became stuck between tracks.  kachunk kachunk kachunk kachunk kachunk… and the tape couldn’t be ejected from fear of the pinched tape come flying out of the case.  I learned how to repair an eight track tape by cutting the tape where it had pinched, then holding it together with a small piece of Scotch tape.  Of course, that means that there are lyrics that I don’t know because that portion of tape was missing.

♫She musters a smile for his nostalgic tale… What a fool belieeeeeeeeves♫

Ahhhhh, those were the days.

The eight track player was one of the upgrades I added to my magnificent Plymouth.  My car came with black cloth seats, no air conditioning, and an AM radio.  In order to be a proper cruiser, the Duster needed a kicking stereo.  I added box Pioneer speakers and a Pioneer eight track stereo that was inserted into a slide mount under the dash.  It wasn’t like one of those sub woofer systems in some cars these days, the kind that practically stop my heart if I am next to one at a stop light, but my Pioneer system was pretty cool for its day.

Heck, I was such a chick magnet that I needed make out music.  AM radio did not cut it.

Then I graduated to cassette.  Oh the tales of woe I have.  How many weeks did I go with a tape stuck in the player until I finally gave the tape last rites and ripped it out of the player?  Many.  So many.

 

Weekend Update

Tags

music, snow, weekends

I know it’s Tuesday and weekend updates should occur on Sunday night or Monday morning.  I have excuses.  Legitimate excuses.  (note — I started this blog on Tuesday and am finishing it on Wednesday, which is really really really pitiful)

Sunday night was the Super Bowl.

Yesterday I worked through lunch, left at four thinking I would cook an early dinner and take a little time to write, only to be foiled by a sales rep who called me on my cell three times.  After I finished dinner, a massive headache greeted me with fangs bared.

Excuses are now out of the way.  With a few minutes left to write before hitting the trail for work, I will now dig in to an account of the excellent weekend.  ‘Dig’ is a key word to describe part of the weekend.  For those who know I live in the Chicago area and follow the news, you probably know we had 18 inches of snow on Sunday.  That sounds bad.  In reality, it is not.  Those who live around here know that the solution is to hunker down indoors, keep ahead of the accumulation by clearing the drive and walk periodically throughout the day, and enjoy a pleasant cocoon.

View looking out on my back yard around 2 PM Sunday afternoon. There was still a lot of snow to fall.

Cocoon is what I did from around 2:30 PM to bed time on Sunday.  The couch time was well earned on Sunday morning.  As usual, I awoke a little before sun up.  Sunday was my assigned weekend for parking lot duty at church, usually involving directing traffic and greeting people as they arrive/depart services.  I cleared my own drive and front walk, got to church an hour early to perform my duties — which did not involve traffic control due to the blizzard that was happening.  Instead, I started shoveling and scraping the walks and handicapped parking area right away.  Four hours later I stopped, only taking a fifteen minute break.  I lost count of how many cars I dug out and helped push.  It sounds like work (and it was) but there is something about helping out at church, the many thanks that were sincerely given to me, that somehow creates a pleasant satisfaction.

My body was tired and sore from my shoulders to my feet, but I really liked the way that felt.  I stopped to buy mozzarella cheese sticks, pizza, and pop to enjoy with Nate during the Super Bowl, heated up some enchiladas for lunch when I got home, showered, then plopped on the couch for the duration of the day.  Satisfaction was aided by one of the best championship football games I have witnessed in years.

Alyssa brought her new beau, Caleb, home for the weekend.  Friday afternoon they picked me up at work for the trek to the Allstate Arena in Chicago for Winter Jam, a Christian music festival.  For $10 at the door we were treated to a 10 band, four hour concert.  Alyssa and I are fans of a group called Skillet, the featured band of the night and the last band to perform.  We brought ear plugs to save our ears.  Good, experienced concert goers bring ear plugs.  We weren’t weenies.  We were smart.

Contrary to what one might believe, Christian concerts are not boring.

Loved it.  Caleb was excited to go because his favorite band, For King and Country, performed.  He has good taste in music (and he mentioned that he also likes a favorite of mine, Phil Keaggy.  The kid made big points with me.).  They might be my new favorite, definitely the most entertaining of the night.  They resemble Fun… and they were just that.  Every one of the 7 featured bands were good, including Newsong, Family Force Five (white guys rapping and rapping well), Francesca Battestelli, and Jeremy Camp.

The concert was an opportunity to get to know my daughter’s new beau.  We spent three hours waiting in line outside the Allstate arena, a necessity.  A few years ago, we went but were too far back in line to get in before the arena filled to capacity.  My daughter seems to be in love and from what I observed in the boy, I approve.  The kid stayed with us Thursday night until Saturday night.  They left early due to the predicted snow storm.  He slept in Alyssa’s bed.

She wasn’t in her bed.  She slept in our bed with Miriam.

And he slept on top of the covers.  He brought his own blanket.  Caleb also brought his own towel and used it instead of the towels that Mir left out for him.  I guess he is polite.  That was how he treated my daughter and me.  He seemed quiet yet confident, evidenced by the handshake he gave to me when Alyssa introduced us.  It was a bit funny because he made sure he maintained eye contact as he shook my hand.  I think someone told him to do that as it seemed so intentional.

Alyssa and Caleb almost look like brother and sister, something I didn’t think about until I caught a tall slender teenage girl behind me in line for the concert looking a me with a smile.  Alyssa had just taken Caleb to the Target store next to the arena to warm up and buy snacks. The girl blushed at me, smiled again as she said

“It’s real nice of you to come to a concert like this for your kids.”

Ha!  I guess they do have similar features.  Had the girl’s mother not been with her, the comment would have made me feel old.  She also introduced me to her mom, a rather pleasant person who made the wait in line a lot more tolerable.  The cold gave us an excuse to dad/mom dance for our children.  We had to stay warm, after all.

Friday afternoon was sunny but cold. We’re talking mid 20s. But we had a good time waiting in line for the concert.

Saturday afternoon I also took Nate out for another driving lesson.  This time I selected a large parking lot at the stadium where a local Class A professional baseball team plays, the Kane County Cougars.  Nate seemed a little hesitant this time, probably due to how our first driving lesson turned out.  There was no driving over a curb this time though.  I went through a thorough review of the purpose of each pedal, gear shift positions, what to do with the clutch while braking.  My son killed the engine a few times, but over all he did very well.  Too well at times.  I taught my daughter to drive also.  Girls do not drive as fast as boys when they are learning to drive.  Nate was digging the speed and handling of my little VW a bit too much!

There is the weekend report.  Three days late isn’t too bad.

The Way We Swing

Tags

children, music, retirement, youth

Miriam smacked me on my left arm, one of those playful backhanded slaps intended to get my attention. Her left hand covered her mouth in an attempt to disguise her amusement.

“Can you hear them?” she questioned in a whisper.
Well, yeah, the girls flute choir was playing quite well, especially for a bunch of 10-12 year olds. It didn’t hurt that my 17 year old daughter and her friend Kate, the leaders of the flute choir, were playing along for the little concert. Alyssa and Kate volunteered to lead the flute choir a few years ago, when they both transitioned from middle school to high school, and the group had turned into a showcase for the school’s band program. They play for community events and retirement villages, like the concert they were playing at the moment, at the retirement village where Miriam’s father lives. The girls are a very talented ensemble and their band director is very proud of them.

“They’re all talking about her.” Miriam motioned with her eyes in the direction of Kate, a tall brunette. Kate was wearing heels and a short black skirt with a sheer blouse. In any other place, her choice of clothing would be tasteful, enough that had Miriam not pointed it out, I would not have noticed. After all, I have a teen aged daughter, so I am used to seeing girls dressed like Kate was dressed.

But 80-90 year old residents of a retirement village are not used to seeing short skirts. I had to chuckle a bit as I noticed where many of the male residents were seated. Amongst the female residents, there was scandal in the air with many whispered daggers as the women leaned towards each other, unaware that their mature whispers were not quite as hushed as they thought they were. They shared the scandal with each other, then turned a sweet smile to the performers as they clapped in appreciation, their disdain hidden behind Polident grins.

I am not sure Kate was aware of the uproar her skirt was causing, although I noticed her tug at the skirt as she returned to her seat after the song was through. She is a tomboy sort, an equestrian who I have seen in jeans and tee shirts ever since she was a little girl. I am quite sure that she was oblivious to the scandal. To her, she had dressed nicely for the event, modest compared to the high school environment she is accustomed to.

Next up were Nate on alto sax and Jimmy on tenor sax, playing a lively version of ‘In The Mood’. The version they played was written to be played with an electronic track, the jazz orchestra mysteriously providing accompaniment. The whisperers turned their attention to the iPod that provided the orchestra track. What’s that thingie-ma-boob? I heard one skirt naysayer proclaim into the ear of the woman next to her. A snort snuck out of me as I tried to stifle a guffaw. As the saxophones crooned the familiar tune, the mood changed from scandal to fond memories, toes tapping as the smiles revealed memories of time gone by. I watched the faces as the music took them back to a time when their own fashion, the style of dancing that went along with the music, was likely as scandalous as the skirt they had just scorned. Youthful spirits mingled with the performing youth as the audience found common ground.

 

Odd as that may seem, it’s true. I was struck by the similarities of the two worlds as they met –

Children who spend their time in community as school and activities bring them together, a world where life intertwines in close communication, a time when identity comes from being together .

Adults who have returned from a life spent apart from the community of youth, returning to that close community as they live together. They have returned.

In a way there is a magic that exists, a bit of Peter Pan and Wendy, a mirror image as the two meet. We are social creatures, something that will never change. We really do not change, not deep down. Oh, we may change the way we whisper, our pace, but deep down we will always be the same.

And I will always sit up front.