The Fifth Beatle: Eric Clapton

lol

I don't love Eric Clapton, but his status as George's best friend, one-third of an intriguing love triangle, and the soloist who pushed While My Guitar Gently Weeps into iconic status must be acknowledged. I struggled with his placement in the hierarchy because he was on one track only, but his name was suggested by John Lennon as a suitable replacement when George quit. 

His presence during the tense White Album sessions made the lads behave, a formula George remembered while they were bitching at each other during the Get Back sessions. Eric didn't show, but Billy Preston came to the rescue. 

The dynamics of the Eric-Pattie-George love triangle are bizarre, and what I often think about when contemplating the not-so-savory lessons learned on rock star behavior. No one could have predicted that this triangle would become a Venn diagram when George stepped out with Maureen to Ringo's shock and Lennon's disgust. 

See, they didn't just have a problem with Paul; they all had a problem with each other. 

That led to some great, albeit complex music. 

This has really been a typing-out-loud that meanders around Clapton. Steer it back? 

Uh, I really love The Core off Slowhand. I am a sucker for Wonderful Tonight. It's astonishing to think how long his career has lasted, with hits from the 60s to the 90s, including the Grammy-winning Tears in Heaven, and churning out contributions to movie soundtracks, like It's in the Way. He helped kill slick overproduction as part of the successful MTV Unplugged series. He's in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame three times - solo, with The Yardbirds, and Cream. At the age of 80-plus, he is currently on tour and will be in Detroit in September. 

Lipstick on the Mic: Gwen Stefani

Ska queen in a bindi with Marilyn Monroe aspirations

Gwen and I are exactly the same age - I'm older by two weeks - so I felt a kinship with her GenX stories of love. 

She started her career in 1987 with the ska-pop-punk band No Doubt, alongside her brother Eric, all while working at Dairy Queen after school. The band’s self-titled album featured the dance single Trapped in a Box, which garnered some indie radio airplay.

Then she tapped into the unresolved feelings from her breakup with bassist Tony to pen monster hits Don’t Speak and Just a Girl on the album Tragic Kingdom, making No Doubt one of the biggest things in the mid-'90s. Rolling Stone named her “the Queen of Confessional Pop.”

She also became the Duet Queen of the late 90s, recording hits with Moby, Brian Setzer, and several with rapper Eve. 

Gwen penned the quarter-life crisis album, The Return of Saturn, balancing the inner conflict of career versus trad-mom bullshit through songs like Simple Kind of Life and Ex-Girlfriend. Go was also a serious bop. Rock Steady, too.

She went solo with Love Angel Music Baby and continued her success with songs like Hollaback Girl, Rich Girl, and What Cha Waiting For? 

Her private life, unfortunately, is very public, with tabloid-worthy relationships with her ex-husband, Gavin Rossdale, and her current husband, Blake Sheldon. 

Life has gone on, with stints as a judge on talent shows, cameos in movies, and residencies in Las Vegas. She’s gotten some grief for Indian (the bindi) and Japanese (Harajuku girls) cultural appropriation and being politically conservative. 

As she may say, this shit is bananas. 

YA Book Club: The Lovely Bones

 

How to break my heart

It’s a novel turned movie, the story of Susie Salmon, murdered by a neighbor, and as a ghost, leads her family to clues to what happened to her and, at last, avenges her death. It's a horrific story wrapped in emotional healing and dealing with the pain of loss, and moving on. 

The book was terrific, but the movie is a surreal beauty. Saiorse Roman was etheral as sweet Susie. Stanley Tucci, who has played warm, lovable characters such as Nigel in The Devil Wears Prada, was chilling as the serial killer George Harvey. Can't forget Wei Wei from Stick It. 

One of my shorter assessments, but no less beloved.

Raised on Country Sunshine: On the Road Again

Here we go

The journey is such a big deal in country music, I had to split it up: 

Johnny Horton, Battle of New Orleans

Vicki Lawerence, The Night That the Lights Went Out in Georgia

George Jones, The Race is On

Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

Jimmie Rogers, Standing on a Corner

Willie Nelson, On the Road Again

Waylon Jennings, Good Ol' Boys (Theme to The Dukes of Hazzard)

Ernest Tubb, Walking the Floor Over You

Glen Campbell, Wichita Lineman

George Strait, Amarillo by Morning 

LHOTR2/Why Art Matters: Storytelling Credit

Getting ready for tomorrow

So I'm taking a storytelling class at the University of Michigan so I can take on more creative responsibilities at work. This coincides with what is happening at the river. I had to write a quick 250-word story with a protagonist (me) and the antagonist, the river. 

That's a lot to take in. 

That's It, Just One Line: Morning Has Broken

 "Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning."

LHOTR 2: Electric Boogaloo

Yikes

Not the post I wanted to write, nor a new series I want to start, but thanks to record rain and snow melt, our little house on the river is now a little house IN the river. 

Bah dum tiss. 

Getting stuff to higher ground.

Spring cleaning wasn't supposed to look like this.

We went up on Tuesday to bring home the soft goods like blankets, pillows, bedding, and clothing while clearing out lower shelves and cupboards to get everything to higher ground. We also put furniture on wood blocks, up to 4 inches. Why 4? It's what was available, and if it got any higher than that, we were in deeper trouble than merely replacing that heavy, Amish-built futon. 

No more steps left. 

We had always measured how high the river got by counting steps. By 3:30 on Tuesday, there were no more steps left. By 4 PM, the river was well into our neighbor's yard and ours. By 4:30, the two puddles in the yard facing Beaver and 50th Avenue had become one, and the road commission was in the process of closing the bridge and the road. 

Like champagne on the Titanic mid-afternoon. It's a lovely day, what could go wrong? 

Sensing the inevitable, Dave encouraged me to grab a drink and join him on the deck for one last toast to our Little House as we knew it. I didn't want to believe it, and at that point, I was still optimistic that there was no way the flood waters would rise that much or that quickly. 

I was wrong. 

LHOTR is a TV 7&4 b-roll star

RIP deck

Our neighbor Chris took a kayak over to get as close to the house as he could, and the flood waters have heaved the deck away from the house, so that's gone. I still can't tell from the footage how high it has gone, but rest assured, there has to be water in the house. How much? 

According to the River Levels app, the levels have already started to recede, and will be down to 14' by Monday, 13' by Tuesday, and 12' by Thursday. Unfortunately, that means water will have been in the house for as long as seven days. I'm going to assume the floor is shot, as are the mattresses, electric baseboards, the electric fireplace, the fridge, and the stove. Were the 4" blocks enough? 

We just have to wait and see. In the meantime, I plan to collect boxes so we can salvage what we can and put things in storage next week. I'm heartsick to think of all the effort I put into laying carpet in Will's room, nailing down baseboards, painting to make everything fresh and new, putting in doorframes, and fixing those doors. I was supposed to whitewash wicker and enjoy my new cushions this next weekend, not muck in recovery efforts.

Not to mention all the sleds and things in the barn and shed.

I don't know what the little house will look like by the end of summer; I don't even know what it will look like next week. My girl is going to be getting the makeover no one expected; I don't know how much time something like this takes. 

Yeah, I prayed

We had some regrets this week about what was left behind. I completed the first five years in a scrapbook that was moved to a higher shelf, and I wished I had grabbed it to save those memories. The Ferris Rankin stained glass window. My Mary statue. At different times, both Dave and I had looked at her and thought of packing her; I left her behind in hopes that she would protect the house. I hope she did.