Archive for February 2011
Grab Bag Thinking
How is it possible that people fail to recognize that the first and foremost obstacle to any desired accomplishment a person can envision, is them? It’s pretty easy to miss. Plus, since everyone but us is at fault, it is pretty logical that we would be the last place to look.
Plus, pretending can be fun!
Or not.
There is no one stopping me from living in the moment other than myself. And living in the moment does wonders for getting a person out of their own way. Imagine that!
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Beginnings and endings actually happen at the same time when you consider that the end of one thing is the beginning of the another…
Finding Puffin
I give up. I am powerless against their dominance. It is obvious that I am not in control. I never was. It has all been a facade. I’ve fooled myself to think otherwise. I am but a lowly minion to the all-powerful ad agencies of the world. I may not buy what they are selling, but I am helpless against their wily craft of getting my attention.
When I heard the song being used for a television ad recently, my attention was immediately wrenched, without my permission, from whatever it was I had been paying attention to prior. I had no intention of giving one iota of attention to a commercial. Next, I found myself lost in a fruitless search of my feeble memory to figure out why the sounds I had heard in that commercial were tugging so strongly on my heart-strings.
It took several similar re-enactments of this scene before Cyndie or I were aware enough to actually notice what company the commercial was selling. I had my doubts, but Cyndie appeared confident as she searched for the song in the Travelers Insurance commercial with the Lego people. I swore that it had to be something from my childhood. I was right.
I found it interesting that the answer was easy to find in the multiple results that appeared from other people who had already searched for the very same thing. And no wonder. Some brilliant ad agency had used a classic BBC Radio theme, Puffin’ Billy, the same song used for the children’s television series, Captain Kangaroo.
I bow to their prowess, but I think dredging for long-forgotten childhood memories is a pretty shallow victory for advertisers to claim.
Striking Fancy
I no longer recall why I was feeling a need to try to define my tastes in music, but it has been looming as a task I should tend to since I mentioned it in a post last week.
So, what music strikes my fancy? First of all, keep in mind that I grew up in the ’60s and ’70s and that will be clearly reflected in the bulk of what appeals to me. I think it would be fair to say that a core interest of mine is singer/songwriters. Two people who come to mind right away are Bruce Cockburn and Ani DiFranco, but that list includes Greg Brown, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, John Hiatt, Rickie Lee Jones, Bob Dylan, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne, Joan Armatrading, Michael Johnson, Harry Nilsson, Karla Bonoff, Loudon Wainwright III, Lucy Kaplansky, Randy Newman, and Steve Goodman, to name enough that I’ll leave someone worth mentioning out.
I like the guitar sound of Eric Clapton and the ’70s rock of Derek and the Dominos, The Allman Brothers, Santana, The Band, Little Feat, Dire Straits, Hall & Oates, and Loggins & Messina, as well as the monumental groups, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Doors and The Who.
I have a weakness for harmony and that drew me to Crosby, Stills, & Nash. Some of my favorite harmony is provided by singing siblings, of which The Roches may take the cake. Los Lonely Boys are siblings whom nail some pretty fine vocal harmony.
There are times that I get a hankering for music out of the jazz category, and Weather Report is probably what best defines the subset of jazz that I find most appealing. Steps Ahead, a jazz fusion project of vibraphonist, Mike Mainieri, is also one of my favorites, especially when Peter Erskine was on drums. I’ve got some Al DiMeola and Larry Carlton in my collection.
I have always had an ear for acoustic guitar. The group, America, knew how to use several together to great effect, as did the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Guitarists Leo Kottke, Norman Blake, David Bromberg, Billy McLaughlin, Bruce Cockburn, Pat Donohue, Laurence Juber, Peter Lang and Rodrigo Y Gabriela come to mind.
I like randomness and that leads to my interest in Wookiefoot, Adrian Belew and his work with The Bears, Hindu Rodeo, Tim Curry, Trey Anastasio, Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, Moxy Fruvous, Robert Randolph & The Family Band, The Duhks, and Pomplamoose. At the same time, I am a fan of classics like Chicago, The Rascals, Lovin’ Spoonful, Three Dog Night, Cat Stevens, Joe Cocker, Leon Russell, Van Morrison, Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, Supertramp, Pink Floyd, Steely Dan and the solo work of John Lennon and George Harrison. I don’t think there has ever been a song that Stevie Wonder recorded that I didn’t enjoy. I like some Roxy Music and a fair amount of Talking Heads. I’m a huge fan of Stevie Ray Vaughan. That brings to mind the band, Indigenous, and their guitar star and singer, Mato Nanji.
More recently I have liked what I’ve heard of Ray LaMontagne, Of Montreal, Nickel Creek, The Avett Brothers, and Mumford and Sons. All of them probably reflecting the artists I have listened to for so many years.
For what it is worth, that is a painting of some of my musical interests using just a portion of the colors that make up the sound pallet from which I have been influenced. Time will tell what purpose it might serve… if any beyond what it is on its own here as a random Tuesday post.
February Pause
.
.
winter pauses
for a spell
in February
when the temperature
climbs above
freezing
for more than one day
freeing
some of the water
from an icy prison
and allowing
respite
for weary bones
which breeds visions
of spring
and fuels anticipation
of things
to come
.
.
Limited Perspective
I recognize I possess a very limited perspective of the world. Being apolitical, I tend to be an outlier when it comes to the hot news about governments, lawmakers, lobbyists, military maneuvering, and party posturing. I also know very little about topics related to Wall Street and the industry of finance.
Protests leading to changes in leadership in Egypt have had as much impact on me as the activities of the Armed Revolutionary Forces of Columbia or what the Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac proposals mean for mortgage costs.
Such self-indulgence is a source of embarrassment. Why would I write about it? Maybe it’s a cathartic admission; a cry for help.
I am more inclined to notice the weather outside my door.
I scan the headlines of what gets published as newsworthy, but I read very little of the content within. Given the creature comforts I am able to afford, I get away with shirking the responsibility of sweating the details.
Maybe it is behavior such as mine that allows the power-hungry to establish dictatorships in the first place.
In exchange for my indifference for political confabulation, I try to speak my particular truth. I am inclined to opine that the king has no clothes, when it is something I am seeing with my own eyes. I try to live with sensitivity to the fact that my extravagance has been gained at the expense of indigenous peoples and people who have suffered generations of discrimination. On occasion, I try to provide some humor and reflect some of the natural beauty emanating from places I tread.
It will never be an equitably balanced exchange.
That is something I am able to sense, even from my limited perspective.
Almost Igloo
Check out my room with a view.
This is what an incomplete igloo looks like after about a month of neglect. I tell the neighbors that I built a volcano. This is the structure that I started back around Christmas time. I wasn’t able to get out and finish it before the walls began to sag. Then we had a period of warm temperatures and a heavy rain which turned everything into a solid block of ice after it dropped below freezing again. The cover of fresh snow conceals a disaster underneath.
If I am going to learn the trick of mastering my igloo building fixture, it’s gonna have to happen on another structure.
Relative Discovery
I had a dream the other night, that I was on a road trip with my father. He has been dead for almost 30 years. It is interesting how the sensation that is generated by dream scenes can linger long after the dream is over and consciousness has returned.
When I logged in to my email account yesterday morning, I had 4 new messages from Jim Hays. He provided some family data that he recently collected that reveals our connection through a shared great-grandfather. Our grandfathers were brothers. It was fascinating to be revisiting the names of ancestors with the fresh sense that I had just been with my father, especially since it has been so long since I have really been with my father.
One night, back in the second week of January, I discovered a phone message at home, where Jim first introduced himself and the possibility that we shared ancestors. What an invigorating surprise that was for me. I called him back that night and thoroughly enjoyed the chance to visit and verify our connection.
Jim’s grandfather is John W. Hays, Jr., so I naturally have a heightened interest in that branch of the family tree. We are hoping to find an opportunity when Jim is in town to get together at our house and explore our shared interest in ancestry and the collection of items we have each amassed.
I need to dig out the box of things I have from the time Cyndie and I drove up to Canada to the birthplace of John W. Hays, Sr. We were lucky enough to stumble upon a man who volunteered to drive us out to see the farm property that was owned by my great-great-great grandfather, John Hays. I remember laughing when the man told us that John Hays’ son Stephen really did marry the girl next door, because back then, that was pretty much the only choice in such a rural farming area.
That was in the vicinity of Hawkesbury, Ontario, somewhat between Ottawa and Montreal. We explored an area there which included Vankleek Hill and L’Orignal. We visited the county seat, I believe it was, and were privileged to read and get a copy of the hand-written will of John Hays, the man 5 generations back from me. That is also where we found the land records and evidence that the family of Stephen’s wife, Judith Waite, owned the adjacent farm.
The art of genealogy, of collecting all the data and putting it together in a logical representation of the family, is a lot like assembling a jigsaw puzzle. It can be hard to find all the pieces, and sometimes they appear to fit, but don’t belong. Unfortunately, with genealogy, the pieces are rarely, if ever, all contained in one convenient box, ready for assembly. This is a puzzle where the bulk of the work has to do with bringing all the pieces to the table. In genealogy, that can be a task that is, often times, impossible to fulfill.
Musical Likes and Dislikes
Last weekend I made a point of pulling one of my guitars out of its case and spending some time tenderizing my fingertips on the steel strings. It has been a very, very long time since I played a guitar. It saddens me, but it is something that I face as a function of the limited number of hours in a day and the ridiculously large percentage of those hours which a day job consumes, and the variety of other interests which occupy the minutes and hours left over.
The calluses on my left hand never seem to survive the hiatus between periods of activity. It really is a shame, because I think music really deserves to be my first love. I guess it is no surprise that if I am not making my own music, the next best thing is listening to the music of others. Some nights I like to make a point of avoiding the visuals of television or video and put on a random shuffle of my collection of music to fill our space while I go about my activities.
Yesterday at work, late in the day, I had put on some background music for a part-time helper who arrives after most of the regular crew has gone home. In a work setting, it can be a challenge to select something that isn’t elevator muzak and also isn’t offensive to anyone within earshot. I noticed that my iTunes Radio had been left on something from the 70’s, which seemed to fit the general age group of the people on hand at the moment.
I was occupied enough with my own tasks that I was paying only sideways attention to what was emanating from my computer speakers. Then a song came on that sounded completely different to me, as compared to the previous too-many-hundred times I’d heard it before. It was “Roxanne” by The Police.
This is the kind of song that played so often on the radio that my senses just glazed over when I heard it. Like all over-played songs, in time, I didn’t want to hear it at all. Now, some 30-plus years later, I was hearing it from a fresh perspective. I find myself amazed every time this happens, but given a span of time, and the random happenstance of any moment, one song can suddenly emerge anew in my ears. That song really has some great moments. It’s as if I can suddenly discern what all the fuss was about back in the day. No wonder so many people were fans. At the time, I barely noticed anything about their music that deserved more attention.
Now I am trying to imagine how to define my tastes in music. One possibility is by revealing what lies mostly beyond the fuzzy area of my interest. Even though I can appreciate hearing some orchestrated classical music, it is a rare occasion that I will purposely put it on. I don’t care for most country music, nor heavy metal rock or acid rock or electronica or hip-hop or rap or radio favorites of any genre or pop or punk. I do find isolated moments from each category which do appeal, however.
I guess the next question might be, is the bulk of my interest defined by the music that I didn’t itemize there? I’d probably have to keep going on listing categories to which I don’t listen to achieve a more fitting result (latin, disco…?).
So, what is it that does strike my fancy? I’ll look into that in a future post…
Relative Something 