"How We Spent Our Summer" by Brent and Maggie (An Email Reprint)

(This is from August, 2010)

I can sum up how I spent a majority of my summer in two words: "truck ride".

After a long summer training run, it would usually be so hot that if I was to shower right away I'd just be sweating again as soon as I stepped out of the stall, and I hate that. So instead, I'd cool off first by taking our dog Maggie for a quick drive around Saylorville Lake.

I don't know how it is at your house, but every saying we have for our pets gets shortened down to the bare minimum over time. Instead of hunting down Maggie and asking her, "Hey big girl! Do you want to come along and go for a ride in the truck with me?" I now just yell, "Truck ride!" from the garage. It's not like word choice matters, you put those two words anywhere near each other in a sentence and you'll be soon tackled by an overexcited, 95 pound, four-legged hitchhiker.

Although it's not the safest picture to take, I wanted to show you what I see in the passenger door mirror when I'm driving Maggie around:

Since my shedding passenger doesn't care about conversation or music quality, I'll pass the drive time with a random sampler or library CD. (Really, is there a better place to listen to music than in the car?)  Amongst the audio junk, I'll usually find some cool song - proving my theory that most records have at least one interesting track. Let's say these songs come from my "Dog Days of Summer Soundtrack".

Here's one Maggie and I listened to a lot while cruising through the Saylorville campgrounds:

Link: Chasing You Around

Spontaneity (An Email reprint)

(This is from the spring 2012)

After dropping off Charlotte at day care yesterday, I was in my car waiting at a stop light. To my left, in the turning lane, was a young professional woman with huge earrings. She was looking into the rear view mirror,  soberly checking her makeup. I have no idea what radio station she was listening to, but her mouth flashed into a bright smile when, apparently, a song came on she knew. 

Within seconds she was singing along and dancing practiced, arm moves in her car seat. Her earrings were swinging all over the place. I too had to laugh, and I'm glad she didn't see me watching her dance. That made my drive to work a lot brighter.

Later that evening I was getting ready to grill in our backyard, and "Gold on the Ceiling" by The Black Keys came on my iPod as I was climbing the deck stairs to get the burgers. I have no idea how to get someone's gold on the ceiling, but I had a flashback to that gal at the stop light. It was dark, and we have a high fence, so why not? I stopped my climb and started playing air guitar. Then I gave up the air instrument and returned to the yard to dance to the music for a minute or so. That may be dorky, but it was fun to let loose.

Here's to hoping that you have some spontaneous fun this weekend. 
And that no one catches you in the act.

Link: Gold on the Ceiling

I Want to Cher a Song with You (An email reprint)

This has got to be the strangest song by Cher I have ever heard, and that's saying a lot after listening to hits like "Half Breed" and "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves".
What is so weird about it?
- It's a pop song detailing how a Dad is telling his children that he and Mom are getting divorced.
- Cher sings the Dad's part.
- All the tempo changes.  It's like three or four different songs abruptly spliced together. I like to imagine a junior high dance in 1975 where all the kids in the gym awkwardly try to dance to this. "Ouch, Tommy! That's my foot!"
- The end. Someone thought it would be cool to just let all the musicians noodle for thirty seconds during the fade out?  "Let's end the divorce song with a big bang!"
What?

"You Better Sit Down Kids" link


Also, is this really the "best" picture they could find for the cover of the album? If this is not a bootleg, then that is Cher calling her manager to fire the United Artist promotional department.

A Couple of Knuckleheads (An Email Reprint)

(This is from October 3, 2011)

I found a music sampler CD from June, 2000 while rooting around in our storage room. I probably bought the CD for the opening tracks by POD and A Perfect Circle, and I doubt I gave the last track (number 21) even a cursory listen. The least commercial songs are always buried near the end of these samplers.

Today I think "Knucklehead" is the most interesting song on the CD, and I wrinkled my nose when playing tracks by the previously mentioned bands. Their songs haven't aged very well and were definitely a product of their time.

If I was able to time travel back 11 years and take a car ride with my 31-year-old self, I'd probably tell me, "You know what past Brent? A lot of your "new" music is actually pretty dumb."

Then I'd probably reply, "Shut up future Brent. You got fat."



Knucklehead link

Rubber Slides and Padded Mats (An Email Reprint)

(from 2012)

Ever pull up to a stoplight on a busy multi-lane street and hear car brakes squeal? My first thought is, "Is that my car?" I'll then casually roll ahead a little so I can press the brakes to check.

It is the same experience at a mall's crowed playground when you smell a dirty diaper. My first thought is, "Is that my kid?" I'll then casually bend down to Char's backside to check. Sure it's awkward, but at least I wasn't the dad who pressed his face far enough into his child's diaper that he could have suffocated himself. That guy was gross.

Happily, this weekend anyway, it was someone else's car and someone else's kid.


Here are some random observations after visiting various toddler playgrounds in our local malls:

1. The bottom of the slide is much more dangerous than the top. I didn't see anyone fall off, but I witnessed plenty of crashes at the foot of the slide. Some pileups were five kids deep.
2. Nothing exciting happens when I'm watching my girl play, but if I look away for a couple of seconds there will be a minor disaster. So, it's just like home.
3. I can always smell warm pretzels. 
4. Parents treat the playground like it's an elevator; none of the adults talk to each other. Maybe they're just too tired.
5. Or they're too busy looking at their cell phones.
6. I know that little boy who just ran full steam into Charlotte and sent her flying into the padded bark of a rubber tree didn't mean to hurt her. But while I'm picking up my sobbing girl and watching him rounding the corner for lap number two, I want to trip him.
7. And his mom who didn't even see it happen because she was too busy staring at her phone instead of watching her human torpedo.
8. But I don't.

Music link

Pick a Record, Any Record! (An Email Reprint)

(This email is from 2010)

I hit the flea market at the Iowa State Fairgrounds on Saturday, and I scored a box of 135 45s for $10!

Sadly, my best turntable has been packed away in an effort to sell our house, so I brought the box to work today. I have a turntable at school, and I I was itching to play a few records.

The name of the game is "Randomly Pick-a-45-and-Play-Both-Sides," and so far I've blindly reached in and pulled out

Sade's "Smooth Operator" / "Hang on to Your Love" and Wayne Newton's Danke Schoen" (Ferris!)/ "Heart!"

This is fun! For $10, this box was a steal.

2017 Update: I didn't even remember that I had this box of 45s at school, but my student teacher spotted it when I was showing her where I keep the tests and other materials in the classroom closet.

Let's play another round of "Randomly Pick-a-45-and-Play-Both-Sides." 

Oh no! It's "Think of Laura" by Christopher Cross.

Better grab some Kleenexes:

"Think of Laura" link

They don't make songs like that anymore, and actually that is a good thing. Hopefully the B side is more up-beat:

"Never Be the Same" link

I think the flip side is almost as depressing as "Think of Laura," but even If I never play the record again, it was worth 13.5 cents.

Pay No Attention to that Boy Behind the Curtain (An Email Reprint)

(This is from November 2, 2011)

I grew up singing in the shower. I don't know why I felt so brave standing behind that curtain, but as soon as I stepped under the water I'd let it rip. I wouldn't sing a cappella though. I had to have some cassette "blaring to high heaven" (as my mom would say) to guide me along. It was usually the same tape over and over - there's comfort in repetition. I bet I sang along with side A of Rick Springfield's Working Class Dog almost every morning of my 8th grade year.  I don't even know one song on side B.

Although I no longer sing in the shower (I have more consideration for my family), if Charlotte's not sleeping, I'll will blast shower music for myself. Again, there's very little variety. Last year my iPod played the Presidents of the United States' These Are the Good Times People every morning, and 2011-2012 school year looks to be the "Year of the Black Keys".

Why the Black Keys? Daphne noticed that Charlotte likes them. When Char was crawling down the hallway one summer morning she heard "Tighten Up" coming from our bathroom.  She stopped crawling and started bouncing on her diaper in sync with the beat. After several bounces, Charlotte switched directions and zipped into our bathroom where she sat on the rug and continued to move to the song. Attagirl.

"Tighten Up" Link

Update: Charlotte and I went to the Trolls movies last year for a daddy daughter night, and the soundtrack has become our road trip CD. It depends on the traffic and stop lights, but we can usually listen to tracks 1-7 before we get to daycare. We had a daddy daughter afternoon on Saturday, and we finally got to track 11. That's the movie's cover of "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire. Man, Char loves that song right now. We listened to it five times this morning, and she belted out the lyrics each time.

These are the good times, people. 😃

Trolls End Credits Link

It's Not a Contact Sport (an Email reprint)

(I wrote this a few years ago when Char was one and a half and my knees were in better shape.)

While running in the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K road race last Sunday, I noticed that a lot of the runners are people I recognize, but I don't really know them. I like to create names for these people based on what I see and hear. They all sound like mobster names for some reason. For instance, I spotted "Johnny Tourettes" (he constantly swears to himself as he runs), "The Mouth Breather" (the man sounds like a slow locomotive forever moving uphill), and the self explanatory "Hairy Back Boyd."

Now I get to add two more names to my list.

Sunday's record high temp prompted a lot of men's shirts to be shed (sadly, I got to see the rug Hairy Back Boyd wears from the shoulders down), and there were quite a number of tattoos on display. Like the cereal box at breakfast time, I'll stare at these tattoos as if they're the most interesting thing I've ever seen. I'll admit to being ink-free and out of the tattoo loop, but I thought only girls got tattoos centered at the base of their spine. Apparently not: this guy had a stylized globe adorned with two tribal lightning bolts.

New Name #1: "Tramp Stamp Terry"

Around the second mile marker I caught up with a runner who had sprinted the first mile, but was fading fast. As I was safely passing him, I felt this guy put his hand on my tramp stamp, if I had one, that is. The contact wasn't a bump or the result of his arm swinging in stride either, he had his fingers on me for about two seconds. That might seem like a brief amount of time, but it's not if somebody has their unwanted, sweaty fingers on you. "Hey! Watch it." I growled over my shoulder, but he didn't even react - he just kept plodding along looking at the road beneath his feet.

New Name #2: "Bennie the Bad Touch "

Hands Off! Music Link

Update 2017: Found video footage from this day. Char was also anxious to get in on the running action after watching all the runners. Her little legs carried her from Daphne, past me, and stopped at Grandma Deb who asked, "Are you running the race?" 

These races were a family affair. I miss those days, and I know Daphne does, too. 

Stupid knees.

Southside, Baby! (An Email Reprint)

(From June '14)

Bruce Springfield was in town last Monday, so I dug up an old Jersey LP to share.

First, some wikipedia facts:

1) The "Jersey Shore Sound" is a genre that enjoyed a vogue from roughly the late 1960s through the mid-1980s. The "Jersey Sound" is a synthesis of pre-Beatles rock and roll and pre-Motown Rhythm and Blues.

2) Southside Johnny (real name John Lyon, born December 4, 1948) is an American singer-songwriter who usually fronts his band Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes. Lyon grew up in Ocean Grove, New Jersey and has long been considered the Grandfather of "the New Jersey Sound." Jon Bon Jovi has acknowledged Southside as his "reason for singing."

3) Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes are a Jersey Shore musical group that have been recording albums since 1976 and are closely associated with Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. They have recorded and/or performed several Springsteen songs, including "The Fever" and "Fade Away".

Springsteen has also performed with the band on numerous occasions and in 1991 guested on their Better Days album.

During the bands formative years, Steve Van Zandt acted as the bands co-leader, guitarist, songwriter, arranger and producer while other E Streeters including Clarence Clemons, Max Weinberg, Garry Tallent, Ernest Carter, Patti Scialfa and Soozie Tyrell have all performed, toured and/or recorded with the Jukes. The bands horn section - The Miami Horns - has also toured and recorded with Springsteen. More than one hundred musicians can claim to have been members of The Asbury Jukes, including Jon Bon Jovi who toured with the band as a special guest during 1990.

Today's track is from their This Time It's For Real (1977) album:

Link: "She Gots Me Where She Wants Me"

Once upon a conference night... (An Email Reprint)

(from March 8, 2012)

...a mother and her daughter walked into my classroom, and the mother gasped, "Oh my God! You can't be Mr. Monson. You look just like him, but you just can't be him... that was so long ago..."

I've had some strange conference conversations before, but this opening was a first, "Excuse me?" 

"Oh, as we were walking up the steps, I looked at Paige's schedule, and I noticed we we're going to see a Mr. Monson. I was telling her that I had a Mr. Monson as my principal in elementary school, and I was joking that it was going to be the same guy... I can't believe it, but you look exactly like my old principal!"

I gave her a polite laugh, and a smirk,  "Well, where did you go to school?"

"Oh," she waved a hand in front of her face, "it's a small school, way up north. It's called West Lyon."

This time I smile for real. "That was my dad. He was an elementary principal there in the early 70's." 

"Are you serious?" 

I assured her I was, and the rest of the conference went fairly smoothly, except I kept catching the mom staring at my face instead of the transcript I had giver her. At the end of our meeting I shook both of their hands, and as mom was walking out she informed me, "Except for the modern haircut, you look just like him. Your dad had this Mike Brady style haircut."

"Yep, Dad was rockin' that doo back then." 

"He sure was."

Here is Dad back in 1973. My sister Michelle and I are helping him decorate the Chistmas tree. I was four; Shelley was six.

Music Link: Blame it on My Youth

2016 Update: My grandmother passed away last week, and her funeral was on Monday. I was a pallbearer. After the service, at least three different strangers stopped to tell me they knew I was Barry's son just by looking at me. 

Blog Link: "His Voice in Mine"

The Hero Question (An Email Reprint)

Whenever I "get" to go to a staff meeting outside of our school building, it's very likely that I'll have to partner up with a stranger, and we'll be instructed to tell each other who is our hero and why. Then, five awkward minutes later, we'll have to stand up and share our partner's information with the room.

I know this is a "getting to know you" exercise, but it's frustrating. The "hero question" feels too loaded and too constricting: people seem to go with a name that somehow proves who they are as a person. I'm 40, and I still don't know exactly who I am.  So who do I pick as a name that somehow defines me?

If I say Jesus I'm a devote Christian. If I say Ronald Regan I'm a hard line conservative. If I say Barack Obama I'm a bleeding heart liberal. If I say Michael Jordan I'm a die hard sports fan. If I say my wife's name I'm a smarmy sap. If I name someone from work I'm a suck-up. If I say Jimi Hendrix I'm a music fan who's okay with heroin use. If I say Batman I believe in imaginary people, and I probably shouldn't be influencing children. 

So, I have no good answer.

At the last development meeting I told my new "pal", a woman with poppy seeds stuck in her teeth, that "Thomas Edison is my hero," and then I scraped out of my barrel's bottom, "because he never gave up... uummm... on the light bulb.".

Sad.

Link: "Heroes" Triple Fast Action

I'm now 47, and I still don't have a hero answer.

Who Wrote "Under the Bleachers"? (An Email Reprint)

Seymore Butts.   Whaa whaa whaaaaa.

When I attended the University of South Dakota, the local record store, Uncle John Goes to College, had a "free records" bin on the sidewalk that I liked to dig through. One free record - "Blowin'" by the Jess Roden Band - was okay, and it was just okay enough for me to keep it all these years. 

I was considering it for a mp3 email, so I did some research on Jess Roden. As usual, the research was pretty interesting. I had no idea that Jess Roden had a connection to The Doors.

Throughout its existence, the band The Doors consisted of vocalist Jim Morrison, keyboardist Ray Manzarek, drummer John Densmore, and guitarist Robby Krieger.  Two years after Jim Morrison's 1971 death, the three remaining members of The Doors were in England auditioning new singers. 

According to Krieger, "...the problem was after Jim had gone, the three of us couldn’t get along anymore. We did for a while but after a while, it got very strange. We all decided to go to England and maybe find a singer over there. So we all went over there, kind of moved over there. Then Dorothy, Ray’s wife, got pregnant and she had gone through some weird stuff. So Ray decided to go back home. John and I were stuck over in London, so we formed this group called the Butts Band with Phil Chen, who at that time was the hot bass player in England, like the James Jamerson of England. We had a singer named Jess Roden and a keyboard player named Roy Davis. It was really a good band..." (Wikipedia).

Also according to Wikipedia, Krieger said the band's name came from the idea that they were just a bunch of guys sitting on their butts waiting for a gig. 

I agree with Mr. Krieger, The Butts Band were a really good band (with a really dumb name).

Links:  "Be with Me" - Butts Band "Sweet Danger" - Butts Band

At Least I Had One (An Email Reprint)

This email was sent on March 6, 2012. Charlotte was 2 and a half years old.

No matter how crabby I am, no matter how poorly I've slept, no matter how much I may be dreading the workday, all of that melts away when I slowly open my daughter's bedroom door in the morning. I could have been cursing the clock twenty seconds earlier, but I'll find myself smiling and whispering in a higher octave as soon as I turn that doorknob.

Sometimes Charlotte is already awake, chattering away to her stuffed menagerie, and she'll say, "Daddy!" and point at me while I peak around the opening bedroom door. It's very cool.

What's better yet is finding her lying on her tucked-in arms with her bottom sticking up in the air. I get to rub her back and say things like, "Hey there, Pooty Butt. It's time to get up..." Watching her transform from a silent, little lump of pajamas into a smiling, dancing girl is quite a sight to behold. 

Some days I know this will be the best moment of my day, but at least I had a best moment. 

Link: I Get a Kick Out of You

FYI: "Pooty Butt" didn't stick as far as nicknames go - a fact both Daphne and Charlotte appreciate. I am still the one who wakes her up on schooldays, but I rub her back and call her "Princess," instead.

Such is Life (An Email Reprint)

This email was written in January of 2012.

When I discuss literature in my classes, I try to suggest interpretations to the material that students might not have considered. I'll be hard pressed to ever tell a student that their perception of the material is wrong. Very few, if any, stories and essays are written for the exclusive purpose of being published in a high school textbook, so absolute answers to textbook questions don't exist. Nonsensical answers don't count, but every well thought out opinion is valid. 

With this in mind, here's "C'est La Mort" by The Civil Wars. I hadn't yet read the lyrics when I first played their CD in my car, and without a working knowledge of the French language, I didn't hear a song about a love that lasts beyond death. 

Instead, as I'm cruising around in a car littered with picture books, sippy cups, and teething rings, I heard a song about a parent making the impossible plea for their child to not grow up and grow away. 

Don't go 

Please don't go

Don't go without me

I actually had to wipe away a few tears. It's funny how parenting affects interpretation, but C'est la vie.

Link: "C'est La Mort" - The Civil Wars

Feeling Like a King (An Email Reprint)

I don't remember her exact age, but Charlotte was in a baby carrier that faced the rear of the car when I wrote this email. When I listen to this song now, it takes me right back to that moment. Music makes time travel possible.

I recently took Charlotte for a slow car trip around the Saylorville Lake camping areas. I was hoping the rhythm of the ride would help her settle down and take the nap that she was refusing. To help me pass the time, I quietly previewed the "Hightone Records Catalog Sampler" CD that I had rescued from a free bin at the record store. 

As I was playing track two, "King O California" by Dave Alvin, I glanced back into the rear seat's baby mirror. I hadn't heard any complaints in awhile, and I expected to see closed eyes and maybe a bobbing head. Instead, Char's eyes were open and turned upwards to the side window. Her right hand had screwed the pink pacifier into the corner of her mouth, and as she watched the trees pass beneath the grey sky, her mouth was working up and down. Curious, I turned the stereo down to a whisper, and I could hear that, in her own way, Charlotte was singing along.


That's such a good memory. This is now one of my favorite songs. 

Link: "King O California" - Dave Alvin 

The Depth of Kyle (An Email Reprint)

A few years ago, before I started this blog, I sent emails with musical attachments to friends. I had learned how to convert songs from old vinyl albums, 8-track tapes, and cassettes into mp3s. I was excited to share forgotten music from recordings that I had discovered in thrift stores. You might be surprised how many great songs were left to rot on these "dead" formats.

I had this theory that every record, no matter how bad, had at least one interesting song on it. I wasn't restricted to thrift store finds; sometimes I found music out in the "wild."

Here's an email about a CD that I found in 2010:

Listening to a found mix CD is a little like reading a page torn out of a diary. The songs are a snap shot of a person's identity and tastes at the moment they clicked the "burn CD" button. I was pushing Charlotte in her stroller when I found Kyle's discarded CD on a road near our house, and it's got me a bit stumped.

There are twelve tracks on this CD, eleven of which are rap songs that are performed by artists I don't know, and most become school inappropriate within a few bass beats.

So, just as I'm thinking there's not much I can share from this CD, I come across one country song. I don't know this artist either, but at least I can google a lyric at work without getting fired: "I recognized them dark green eyes when you do-si-doed across the floor." It's "8 Second Ride" by Jake Owen.

Now, I don't know if country music and rap are exactly polar opposites, but it's a pretty big jump to go from popping champagne corks to popping in a dip. Which leads to me to reconsider Kyle.

Is he that diverse, or is one of the genres on the disc just a ruse? Is he spinning "8 Second Ride" as he pulls into the driveway so his rap music doesn't worry his parents? Does he cruise around town thumping his subs only to secretly crave driving a tractor down a gravel road?  

And what about the title "Plies Mix"? "Plies" is plural for "ply" which is defined as "a thickness or layer of a folded or laminated material". Maybe Kyle's hinting that both rap and country are only two levels of his multiple layered personality?  I don't know, and maybe Kyle doesn't either. 

Maybe that's why he threw away his CD.

link