Browsing Archives for June 2009

I Had A Gig…

June 25th, 2009

Well… I sort of had a gig.  

My friend Forrest Whitlow really had a gig and he invited me to sing back-up for him.

I opened the evening with a few songs of my own.

 

 

 

 

It was kind of surreal.  

I don’t really play gigs anymore.  

I don’t really play anymore.  

 

 

 

 

 

So I did the only thing I knew how to do…

I bought a new dress.

 

 

 

 

And then I stumbled through four of my songs… barely remembering how to play them… how to sing them… how to do that whole set-up thing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah, it wasn’t that great.

And these guys here… they weren’t playing chess while I was singing.  

They left long before that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still, it was the coolest thing I have done in a long time.

 

 

 

 

 

This is Forrest Whitlow.  

He rocks.

Literally.

 

 

 

 

And this is me.

I used to sing back-up for Forest when I lived in Kansas City.  We hauled out all the old tunes and sang them again.  

Then I sang back-up on a few of Forrest’s new tunes.

 

 

 

 

This is David Hakan. He is the founder of the Kansas City Songwriter’s Circle and a dear old friend of mine.

He recorded the new song set that Forrest did.  If any of the songs turn out well, there might be a record of the night’s performance.

 

 

 

 

All I know is that I used to have this in my life…

this songwriting thing…

And then it went away…

I don’t think about it very much because there are all these other things in my life instead.

And my life is very full and very good.

But when I was a songwriter…. I was in touch with something that was euphoric, ethereal and other-worldly.  

It can’t really be explained. 

I sometimes wonder where it went…

An Arranged Marriage

June 24th, 2009

Yet another blast from the past.  This post was originally published on August 9th, 2007.  

These are my dear friends Dave and Katie. They used to live in my town. When they moved away, they left a huge, hemorrhaging hole in my heart and I didn’t know if I would survive.   Fortunately, I am married to a doctor and he was able to apply the right sort of pressure to save my life. However, even with all sorts of medical interventions, I have only been a shadow of my former self since they left.  Seeking a more permanent cure,  I loaded up the four boys and we went to visit Dave and Katie in their new town.

 

 

 

This is a picture of the fabulous dinner that Dave handcrafted while Katie and I sat in the living room drinking red wine and updating each other on uh… all the uh… critically important world events… that we uh… are uh… so knowledgeable about.

 

 

 

 

 

Dave and Katie have two beautiful children that my own children love, so when Dave and Katie moved and took their children with them, blood curdling screams of pain and anguish could be heard coming from my house for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

This is their handsome son, Jackson with my Jack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is their beautiful daughter, Maggie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here is Katie leading the Deathly Hallows Book Club discussion.

It has long been a dream of Katie and I, to someday merge our families via holy matrimony. It would allow Katie and I to spend much more time together and I don’t think it is too much to ask of one’s daughter to provide a little comfort to her mother and her mother’s friend as old age approaches?

Is it?

Well, is it?

No, it’s not.

Maggie can have her choice of my four sons. I won’t make her pick the dumbest or the most likely to be unemployed, or the one with the bad teeth. She can have her choice, as long as she chooses ONE of them.

The question is – which one?

 

 

 

 

 

Drew and Maggie are  in the same grade, and although they are almost equals in outward beauty, we are not sure that Drew is Maggie’s mental equal.

 

 

 

 

 

Katie has always leaned towards Ethan because he exhibits the same brainy, LOTR, child of the woods and water, Star Wars lovin, rogue athletic, traits that her son Jackson has.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cal would be the best one if Maggie prefers the strong silent type and if she wants a die hard fisherman like her dad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But if she wants to talk…and talk and talk and talk… and if she goes for younger men (like her mother did) Jack might just fit the bill.

 

 

 

Pick one of them Maggie! I really think it would work out beautifully.

 

At least for me and Katie  it would…

This story originally ran during on August 19, 2007.  

 

We were just East of Goodland, Kansas on Interstate 70, when the Country Doctor spied a crop duster flying low over a field of corn. The plane was bright yellow and zooming back and forth across the field. The boys were spellbound.

“Hey boys,” the Country Doctor announced,”you think we could race that plane?”

Now my boys are not idiots, and they have been through this type of scenario with their dad before. Plus, they are being raised in the safety generation… the generation that insists that we tie seven year olds into car seats, refuse to let kids climb trees or run on the playground, and that smoking a cigarette is the same as murdering someone. I remember making ashtrays for art projects in kindergarten!  If my kids knew that – they would have apoplectic seizures.

So when their father suggested racing a crop duster, my boys reacted as proper members of the safety generation…

“No!” they cried.

“Dad!    No!    Don’t do it!” they pleaded.

“Please Dad… NO!” they begged.

But their father ignored their stark white faces and their quaking fear and said, ”HA! I will race that airplane and what’s more – I will BEAT that airplane.”

The speedometer on our minivan rapidly climbed from 65 mph to 95 mph.

The boys were screaming

I was sitting in silence in the passenger seat knowing that there was nothing I could do to make it stop. 

Seconds later – red lights flashed behind us and the Country Doctor pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“Well sir.” said the highway patrol officer, ” you were doing just fine at 65 mph when out of nowhere for no apparent reason – your speed shot up to 95 mph!?!?!?”

“Sorry.” the CD replied.

He did not attempt to explain that he had been racing a crop duster. He did not mention that he was trying to beat an airplane. Some things are just too dumb to say out loud.