Typing Out Loud: Dad’s Final Spot

Mom sprung a surprise on me in August. I was going to visit with the intention to sign some legal papers and then she added that we were going to finally bury my dad. 

As it was noted here years ago, he passed in April 2012 and was cremated, but she couldn’t decide on a burial spot. She was dealing with some stuff with his memory and the task lagged. She says she was talking to his urn when my sister showed up to take her to her eye appointment and said "Since I'm early, should we finally go find him a plot?"

Paperwork had to be done before he could be buried, and then finally the time happened. She was just going to drop him off but realized the urn was too heavy. And I don't think just dropping him in the office and calling it a day was what was supposed to happen. 

We made it into a ceremony of sorts, I carried him out to the car, and Will carried him to his plot. It was a beautiful morning, the kind of morning where he would have played a quick nine, gotten a haircut, and had an early lunch. 

Will was three when he died, too young to realize what was going on. Maybe the length of time was meant to be so that he was old enough and mature enough to do what was needed. The above picture was too intimate for me to share on a wider platform, but it means a lot to me; so much so, it's taken me a couple of months to write about it. 

His birthday is August 18, we missed his 81st by two days. It was far overdue.

November Song: Say a Prayer

 

Only Madonna could get away with turning The Act of Contrition into an argument with a hotel desk clerk.

Goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. My thoughts are wandering with this one, and I'm indeed worried it's crap -  I've been working on this last song for about six months and wondering if I should have scrapped it for something easier. 

Does prayer work? Which are the most effective, rote recitation or an honest conversation with a deity? Are we putting good vibes out when we pray, leading to healing on a base level or is there a higher power? Who indeed is doing the healing? And what if He says no, how do we know?

With this post, I will have an even dozen songs under my belt, the great artistic endeavor of 2023. I have new themes planned for 2024.

There's a crisis in our town,

Say a little prayer.

A storm came through, trees came down,

Say a little prayer. 

Say a little prayer.

Kate found a shadow in a picture, 

Did I say a little prayer? 

I put my intentions in a box, 

Care in place of prayer. 

Say a little prayer.

Say a little prayer.

I'm not asking for a bended knee,

Just a bit of intention. 

I don't need any piety, 

Just a thought, a tear, an inflection. 

There's a cause for celebration,

Say a little prayer.

A grace, a gift, a time to rejoice,

Say a little prayer. 

Typing Out Loud: To the End of the World

At least it's not green. 

Had a weird dream that has stuck with me this morning: I dreamed about the end of the world. 

It wasn't because of war, I don't think, but perhaps the aftermath. It wasn't a lack of food, but definitely a resource, like air. 

Groups of people were sequestered into Jetsons-like bubble/pod communities in order to conserve the air and keep us away from vegetation that was feebly trying to keep up with the demand for fresh air, but plants and trees were dying off. 

I was in my pod, in the cafeteria. Cheerleaders from high school were there, and acting as mean girls do. There was no choice for food anymore, you got what you got, and for this meal, I was given a large slice of apple pie and cubed fried potatoes. I didn't want it. 

Jason Brown, the figure skater, was playing an acoustic guitar and singing soothing songs, but I was the only one paying attention to him. 

A minister was preaching, and telling everyone "God has a plan! He has a plan!" and that seemed to calm everyone down. He confided in me there was no plan, his job was to provide hope. 

I noted that no one seemed to be taking any action, it was all as if it were an ordinary Wednesday. And for some reason, Laura Branigan's song Self Control was on a loop somewhere, a noise you could hear but not exactly locate. 

The only colors were black, white, gold, and a shimmery emerald green. 

The light became dimmer and dimmer until the only thing visible was Saturn, but almost a cartoon version of Saturn, a shimmering green globe encircled by gold bands. I wanted nothing more than to see Will and Dave one last time, but I couldn't find them.

And then nothingness. 

The day is going to be weird, with the lingering images floating in my head.

October Secret Life of Objects: My Guitar

A daily reminder of grandma

I have been carrying this guitar around with me since 1977, at least, when it was passed down to me from my grandma, along with her ancient instructional booklets. I'm pinpointing it to 1977, since I know I received a guitar case from "Santa" for Christmas when I was eight, along with a Wendy Walker doll that wore a lavender dress. 

Nick at work, when he talked about working away at some anxiety by playing and tuning his guitar, inspired me to ask him if he would take at look at my instrument. I knew I had something special because it was handed down by my grandma, but he let me know exactly what I had. This is Stella acoustic with a reinforced steel neck from the early 60s. "They don't make 'em like this anymore Mel; it's a sweet instrument, looks like it was before Harmony bought 'em!" he said enthusiastically as he treated it with lemon oil and replaced the strings. 

I have picked it up and put it down several times through the years, but finally began again in earnest  Christmas 2021, inspired by Will's concert performance. I'm still no further than the finger-picking stage, but when I put it on, I take a brief sniff of the wood, and can still feel my grandma's presence. 

October Playlist: Best of the Worst of the Beatles

The Sirs worked on a long-lost Lennon demo track Now and Then from 1979 and added George's rhythm guitar and vocals from 1995. It's set to make its debut here in 2023 any day now. I hope the song doesn't make this list. This Photoshop hatchet job on the above graphic is not promising.

Ringo, DeVos, October 2023 clearly DGAF about vocal nuances because he's here to party.

The reasons for yet another Beatles playlist are: 

• We saw Ringo and the All Star Band last week, as Dave scored last-minute tickets. 
• My Fab Four segment was on The Beatles Channel today!
• I am consistently in disagreement with other fans on social media as to what the worst track is per album - so I will defend a song, if need be. 
• Finally, I know I wrote a blog piece 10 years ago as to what my least favorite Beatles songs are, and I'd be interested to know how my taste changed. 

I'll do it British album by British album, a moot point by the time we hit Sgt. Pepper. 

Please Please Me

Worst: There's a Place - harmonies don't work, they sound garbled. Paul hits a couple bum notes as well.

Defending: Boys - it's an enthusiastic vocal by Ringo, you can feel it in his gut and his throat. Plus, it's uniquely Starr Time, a song he has sung since 1960, "Before The Lads," when he was with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. 

With the Beatles

Worst: All I've Got to Do - sandwiched between It Won't Be Long and All My Loving it's weak in comparison. 

Defending: Don't Bother Me - George's first song sets a moody blueprint for the quiet Beatle, writing about having a cold. I love the shuffle, the guitar, and echo-y vocals that sound like he's shouting into a can. 

A Hard Day's Night

Worst: When I Get Home - weak sauce from Lennon.

Defending: I'll Cry Instead - awesome sauce from Lennon. 

Beatles for Sale

Worst: Words of Love - I get that it's a remake, but I feel like it didn't suit them. John felt stuffed in a sweet box. 

Defending: Mr. Moonlight - I think I'm defending a previously hated, but points to make: John's vocals are on fire, the harmonies are stellar, and Ringo can drum any song into respectability.

Help!

Worst: You Like Me Too Much - sorry George, not this time.

Defending: It's Only Love - I glossed over the version of this song on the album as too slick and coy, but the version on Anthology 2 with simple delivery and acoustic guitar brings out the intimate charm. 

Rubber Soul

Worst: What Goes On - Ringo's turn to get scolded. It's a little too country to be folk, a little too folk to be country, and the delivery is almost as if there's a joke we need to be in on.  

Defending: Run for Your Life - oh lord did I hate this song. Then one day driving in the car, I had some sort of all-female band of superheroes fantasy where this song was an empowering call to action. At one point, I imagined an old lady using knitting needles in some sort of fight to save the world. A mom in a minivan with peeling paint outdriving the bad guys. Figure skates as weapons. 

Revolver

Worst: Nothing. I have no hate for this album.

Defending: Yellow Submarine - I've seen arguments that this song put Ringo firmly in the novelty/kid's song category, but man, go to an All-Star show and see everyone sing along and then come back and complain. I think I've mentioned it before, being in the presence of a bachelor party at a baseball game, drunks belting it out at the top of their lungs - it was a beautiful thing.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Worst: She's Leaving Home - I'm stretching to find something bad to say, so I find the drama of the strings to be a bit much.

Defending: Good Morning, Good Morning - I don't get the hate for this. Ringo's drumming is awesome, the horns are fat, and John is actually cheerful about waking up in the morning. Plus, it's one of the few moments the Beatles let their music be used by someone else, see Great Frodis Caper, the last episode of The Monkees TV series.

Magical Mystery Tour

Worst: Your Mother Should Know - dance hall Paul. Still, they all looked pretty great in their white tuxes.

Defending: Blue Jay Way - first, it is part of the whole psychedelic movement of the time. And it's classic George singing about a moment in time when friends got lost trying to visit him. 

The White Album

Worst: Piggies - I can't STAND this song. Classic George bitching about the establishment. 

Defending: Revolution #9 - Will thinks it's hilarious. If you are stuck in the car and want to examine it closely, there's some cool, weird shit in there. Still, it's not high on my playlist. 

Yellow Submarine

Worst: There's not enough here to warrant a worst. 

Defending: George Martin film score side. I, at one time, contemplated skating a bronze free skate to Sea of Holes. 

Abbey Road

Worst: Her Majesty - you take a deeply profound way to end a record with The End, then you drop this ditty 30 seconds later? Damn you Paul. 

Defending: Sun King - which is one of the online arguments that compelled me to write this in the first place. Those lush vocals! Made up Spanish! Dreamy lyrics about the King of France! Its very inclusion on the epic side two of Abbey Road makes it an essential track - you can't jump from You Never Give Me Your Money to Mean Mr. Mustard, it's just not done. 

Let it Be

Worst: There's some weak material, but nothing that makes me want it banished from the album. I think of this as the Beatles garage band record and watching the Get Back documentary, it was. 

Defending: I've seen plenty of grousing about the short jams Dig It and Maggie Mae, but they serve as transitions from I Me Mine to Let It Be to I've Got a Feeling. Leave them. 

Past Masters Vol. 1

Worst: Yes It Is - I still hate it.

Defending: Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand und Sie Liebt Dich - these are the German versions of She Loves You and I Want to Hold Your Hand. Having now housed two German exchange students, the look of recognition on their faces while playing these tracks is pretty joyful. 

Past Masters Vol. 2

Worst: You Know My Name (Look Up the Number) - I always skip it, although it is a snicker to hear John welcome me to Slaggers. 

Defending: Everything is pretty solid, so nothing to defend here. 

ArtPrize: a Photo Dump

ArtPrize 2023 was disappointing. There wasn't the same level of excitement, joy, or interest as there's been in years past. My favorite, Site:Lab, only did a basic sketch of an installation, promising more next year. And I completely forgot to stop at Monroe Community Church, one of my favorite venues, since road construction took me completely off my usual path. 

Still, there were some things to see: 

October Song: Take Me to the Bridge

 

Rock stars demand champagne on their birthday, 

especially when Judas Priest is dining the next table over. True story.

Goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. So far in songwriting, I've neglected to add a bridge to my songwriting capabilities, something I learned, listening to the Beatles Channel, that Paul and John were geniuses at. I'm still learning this craft, so I'm going to give it a try. 

I have been taking pen to paper, 

But mostly, finger to key. 

To tell stories about life, 

And sometimes about you and me. 

It may seem a little trite, 

It's new to me, that's all. 

A simple line, an easy rhyme, 

But creatively, I've hit the wall. 

Now I'm at the chorus, 

I just ran to the fridge. 

I'll repeat the chorus, 

Till I find the bridge. 

Yes - I'll repeat the chorus, 

Just take me to the bridge...

Those lads from Liverpool could do it, an easy middle eight, 

Pop songs - three minutes of joy

Appears on acetate!

[Guitar solo!]

Oh I'm living in Mitty's world,

Where I'm a huge rock star.

Expensive clothes, fancy stones, 

Big, fat shiny cars. 

Arena shows and screaming fans, 

Contract riders? The cookies Pepperidge. 

And on the cover of Rolling Stone, 

If only I find the bridge. 

Yeah take me to the bridge.

I get you there, if only I find the bridge...