Birthday Presence

September 7, 2012


My grandson turned 2 this week, and the entire family is gathering tomorrow for a birthday party for him. Since my youngest daughter and I share a birthday next week, we're planning a back-to-back birthday celebration; afternoon for the little guy and evening for those of us he calls "Pa-pa" and "Ant Inz."  Good food, good fun, good times.

Why do we celebrate birthdays? It's like we're being honored for something we had no control over, something we didn't cause to happen. We just showed up. Why don't we instead celebrate those who were responsible for our birth?

Some think a birthday is an opportunity to celebrate the gift of life. We know, of course, that this particular gift varies in terms of how long, how hard, and how fulfilling life might be.

Maybe we celebrate birthdays because, if only for one day, the "me" that once wasn't, now is, and someday won't be again can be acknowledged, cared about, and  valued.  And one of the ways we celebrate is through music.

I'm sure my 2 year old grandson has heard the "Happy Birthday" song many times already, and I'm sure he'll realize tomorrow that we're singing it to and about him. Did you know that this song was written in 1893 by two sisters -- one an elementary school teacher and one a pianist?  The original title of the song is "Good Morning To You," with a melody easily mastered by children. The lyrics of "Happy Birthday to You" were added by 1912, although the song wasn't copyrighted until 1935. Technically, we're supposed to pay royalties for public performances of the song, but I'm guessing more often than not this doesn't happen.

The Beatles' song, "Birthday" may someday rival "Happy Birthday to You," but you may not be aware that before the Beatles recorded their song on the White Album, they whipped out a version of the old song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glNjsOHiBYs



Contrast that with the 1968 "Birthday." Wouldn't you rather be going to a party-party? And since my daughter and I share the same birthday, the lyrics, "Yes, it's my birthday too, yeah," has special significance at our house. This version is done by Paul McCartney.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjF1bG5LUcs

I spent my 33rd birthday in the maternity ward of St. Mary's Hospital in Knoxville, Tennessee, waiting to meet my third daughter. The nurses thoughtfully brought me a cupcake after she was born. Since it was the only thing I ate that day, it was both symbolic and delicious. My daughter has graciously shared her birthday with me, every year for the past 25 years. WE call each other "birthday buddies."

There are several birthday-themed songs out there from 50s crooners to 90s rap and beyond. One of my favorites doesn't even include the word "birthday," but it captures the agelessness of childhood, wonder, and the awe of living. Here is the Band singing Bob Dylan's "Forever Young."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtFEzhaNrT4

Paul Simon, in "Have A Good Time," sang, "Yesterday, it was my birthday; I hung one more year on the vine. I should be depressed, my life is a mess, but I'm havin' a good time..."  To everything there is a season, someone wrote a long time ago.  Birthdays are one of those times that we can, if we choose, forget about past regrets and future fears, and take a moment to thank those who bless our lives with their birthday "presence."  Happy birthday, grandson. Happy birthday, daughter. Happy birthday, me.

Old Wine From An Old Wineskin.

"My home ain't in the hall of fame; you might go there, but you won't see my name.
And my songs don't belong on top 40 radio; I'll keep my old back 40 for my own."

Robert Earl Keen

Recently, my son-in-law introduced me to the music of Guy Clark.  I'd heard the name before -- even knew that he wrote "Desperados Waiting for A Train," recorded by Jerry Jeff Walker -- but I'd never heard that voice until I borrowed a couple of CD's with Clark's own style of West Texas country/folk/cowboy/poet music.  It can't be adequately described; it must be heard to be seen. "The Dark" is the title song from a 2002 album by the then-61-year-old Clark. Have a hear:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0VQC2cX9h0

Guy doesn't talk through all of his songs, but when he does, you have to listen to this voice of age, wisdom, experience, and insight.

In one of the parables attributed to Jesus of Nazareth, it's a mistake to put new wine into an old wineskin; the fermentation process would burst the already stretched or brittle wineskin, destroying both the wine and the wineskin in the process.  Maybe so, but old wine in old wineskins is vintage, the good stuff.  Like Guy Clark's music.

Just listen once again to Clark's "Desperados Waiting For A Train," this version from Nancy Griffith and an all-star band led by none other than Guy Clark.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQW9Y9frows

It can't get much more Americana and vintage than that.  

Clark's songs tell stories. Those of us who grew up in the west have the privilege of understanding the power of the wide-open sky, the endless horizon, and the endless possibilities inherent in wide-open spaces, the fine line between a hero and an outlaw.

Listening to "The Dark," with its powerful imagery of it being "so dark the wind gets lost," and "too dark for goblins," and "so dark you can smell the moon;" the sounds of a house a night, the end or beginning of the day, depending on how you look at it, and the fact that some things can only be seen in the dark -- all set to simple instrumentation, with the voices reaching a crescendo shortly before the end of the song -- a song like that can help you breathe.

I may never write a song to match those of Guy Clark's; I have yet to hear one that doesn't make me smile, think, laugh, or cry -- sometimes all in the same song.  Still, I can see the value in singing about simple, common things. Grandfathers and grandsons (now that I am one and have one). "This old bag of bones ain't really me." Youthful love and well-seasoned love.  "The only difference between men and boys is the size of their feet and the price of their toys."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmLIv8HwRSc

Recently, while my wife was working on an installation with her interior design company, I had some time to wander around downtown Charlottesville. There's a bridge that spans the railroad tracks near the downtown mall and performing arts Pavilion and, like the proverbial gold at the end of the rainbow, sits a Spudnuts Donut Shop. I hadn't seen such a shop since my childhood in Colorado in the 1960s; I had no idea they were still in existence.  Donuts made with potato flour, a German idea. The company was formed in 1946 by a couple of brothers in Salt Lake City. Franchises were originally sold for $50 plus the cost of 100 sacks of flour. At one time, it was the largest doughnut franchise in the United States, with over 600 stores in the US and 170 in Japan. The parent company closed in 1980, leaving the individual franchises on their own. Currently, their are 35 stores in nine states using the name.

One of those is in Charlottesville.

I had to go in.

It was 1964 again, from the aromas to the faded sign outside. I hadn't seen a maple-covered donut since I was 10. I had to have one. And another. And a couple more.  The coffee pot on the counter was it; no cappuccino maker, no fancy teas. Just regular coffee with cream and sugar.  I had my iPad with me, so I took a seat in the corner and wrote down my observations. It was a Guy Clark moment for me; "Where Donut Dreams Come True" came together as a song about how it used to be and, at least in this one place, how it still was.  A cross section of humanity came and went while I watched and munched.  They say you can't go home again, and maybe they're right (although Mr. Clark might disagree), but for 3/4 of an hour, I got a glimpse and a taste.

In the television show, "Mad Men," there's a wonderful scene where ad-man (mad-man) Don Draper is doing a pitch to Kodak about something they called "the wheel" and something he dubbed "the carousel." Using Kodak's slide projector, he sells them on the idea that the carousel gives you the chance to take a ride to a place you can't return to -- the past.  For me, the "mom and pop old donut shop where donut dreams come true" was such a ride.  Old wine in an old wineskin.

http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=0

They Call It A Party: It's More Like A Mob...

It's March 6, 2012: SUPER TUESDAY, as it's known in political circles. Republican presidential candidates are finding new, more effective ways to wallow deeper in the mud that they themselves have created, tearing each other down while occasionally redirecting some of their venom for each other onto the incumbant Democrat president they hope to unseat so the cycle can begin again.


Politics ain't pretty, and it seems the worse they get, the more people watch.


I still don't have a clue what the candidates stand for, but it's clear that each of them want us to believe that their opponents are less than the salt of the earth.


Too rich. Not religious enough. Too conciliatory. Not patriotic enough. Too willing to compromise with the other side. Not well-enough armed. Too soft on terrorism. Not respectful of traditional values. Too ... too ... too not me!


I'm being much kinder than I intended. Personally, I've never seen a worse slate of candidates for the highest office in the land. The politics of rage, expressed by wealthy white men who have very little reason to be so personally upset.  Party politics is the new fundamentalist religion; the party is paramount, slightly below God -- their definition of God, of course -- and more important than country, collaboration, compromise, and the greater good for the greatest number.


The world is made up of conservatives and liberals, and all who fall in between those labels. The nation is made up of Republicans, Democrats, and Independents, and all who fall in between those labels.  And guess what: no one, no side, is the keeper of all knowledge and wisdom.  It takes all of us to make up a society, and my own definition of hell would be a place where everyone agreed with me, all of the time, all of the way.  Differences are what make us human. Differences are what make us special.  Differences are what make us learn and grow.


What's missing in this current climate is the expression of ideas -- the exchange of possibilities and opportunities. Rather than hearing a candidate criticize another candidate -- and doing so with fervor -- I would rather hear each candidate share their ideas and never say anything about their opponents. Forget about telling us what you think about the other candidates; tell us what you think, what you feel, what you'll do. Give us your ideas, hope, and encouragement -- and challenge us, the voters, to do our part. Run FOR SOMETHING rather than AGAINST SOMEONE. Bring back dignity, integrity, and responsibility to the political process. Don't worry about the other guy or gal; tell us your dreams.


In the spirt of this, the seemingly longest campaign season ever, I wrote this song, "Only A Game," using an old melody I had lying around.


http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=2


"Only A Game"
c. 2012
Randy Lynn Mitchell


I turned on my TV to watch the debate
I wanted to know what they thought
Why he or she would be the best candidate
And not why the other guy was not


I foolishly felt that ideas should win
Not slander and libel and fear
But blaming each other's original sin
Became the only thing that I could hear


And it's only a game to be won
It's only a race to be run
The strong will survive, that's the way that it's done
And it's only a game to be won


They call it a party; it's more like a mob
Where everyone dresses the same
And nothing else matters but getting the job
Do anything it takes to win the game


And it's only a game to be won
It's only a race to be run
The strong will survive, that's the way that it's done
And it's only a game to be won


Another election, another campaign
To show us how low we can go
We'll crawl to the polls and we'll vote once again
For strangers we don't really know


And it's only a game to be won
It's only a race to be run
The wrong will survive, that's the way that it's done
And it's only a game to be won


As Mac McAnally once wrote, "Some kinds of parties are lots of fun, but right now I can't think of one..."  Someone else said that to win the rat-race, you have to be a rat.  Maybe that's the problem...  I don't have the answer.  In the meantime, I'll just keep watching for Jackson Browne's "Everyman."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgXzWhexJh0

The Emperor's New Instruments

A year ago on a business trip to China, I had an experience that few Westerners have had -- and a relatively small number of Easterners as well.  The Hubei Provincial Museum in Wuhan houses an exhibit containing the tomb of Marquis Yi, the King of the Zeng state (buried around 2400 years ago) along with an extensive set of ancient musical instruments that were buried with the emperor. I was shocked to learn that the musicians, believed to be between 15-23 years old, were also buried in their own coffins in the outer chambers of the tomb.

Must have been a bummer to be a musician back then!

Because the instruments were preserved in such excellent condition, the museum has crafted replicas of the bells, drums, flutes, and stringed instruments resembling pianos and guitars. Music and dancing from the era is performed daily in an auditorium nearby. As far as I can tell, these musicians have a better shot at longevity than their ancestors. For an example, click on the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGH24QepCRE&feature=related

The instruments were found in formation in the tomb. The largest bronze instrument ever found, the Chime Bells, includes 64 bells in varying sizes and tones. Inscriptions on the bells provide a great deal of information about the instruments and the music played in that era.  The arrangement of the bells, as found in the tomb, can be seen at:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomb_of_Marquis_Yi_of_Zeng

The tomb was discovered in 1977 by accident as the Chinese army attempted to flatten a hill for the construction of a factory. The tomb contained a chamber for military artifacts, a chamber with the Marquis' elaborate coffin within a coffin with eight smaller coffins nearby, a chamber with thirteen additional coffins, and a final chamber containing the full ensemble of musical instruments. Excluding the Marquis' coffin and one containing a dog, all of the remaining coffins held young women.

The tomb was an important archeological discovery that depicted the sophistication to which the Chinese had developed music more than 2500 years ago.  I had only a short time to visit the museum and this exhibit; I could have spent days there. I haven't even come close to describing the incredible exhibit displayed by the Hubei Provincial Museum, the amazing performance of ancient music on ancient forms of instruments, and the process by which all of this was researched. I wondered why I had never heard of this, one of the most significant archeological discoveries of my lifetime? Chinese control of information, western indifference to oriental history, my own lack of attention, all of the above?

On the same trip, I had a Peking Duck in an authentic tea house, followed by an evening in a Chinese Opera -- more like a variety show with magicians, comedians, a couple of men who made amazing sounds vocally, and a long operatic piece about a maiden (sung by a man) who went down to the sea for a sea cucumber and never came back.  The music, though unfamiliar, enterained my ears just as the incredible food entertained my palette.

Later this year, I'll have an opportunity to return to China. In my spare time, I'll be looking for music. Foreign to my western ears, perhaps, but enriching and entertaining as well. And just like that amazing Chinese food I had on the last trip -- unlike anything I'd ever had on this side of the Pacific -- I'm hoping that no matter how much I consume, I'll still be hungry for more.

Here's a little Bob Dylan, ringing them bells.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEFBNw1Kpss

Credits:  wikipedia   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomb_of_Marquis_Yi_of_Zeng

Brother John Is Gone

Oh, we never know where life will take us

We know it's just a ride on the wheel

And we never know when death will shake us
And we wonder how it will feel

So goodbye my friend

I know I'll never see you again

But the time together through all the years

Will take away these tears

It's okay now

Goodbye my friend

Karla Bonoff

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjespGPhoMw

There's nothing more sobering than learning of the sudden death of an acquaintance.  As Karla Bonoff said in her bittersweet song Goodbye My Friend, "..we never know when death will shake us," but shake us it does. An individual nine years younger than me, the picture of health, a young family and a promising career, stopped by an unexpected, massive heart attack.

I learned a long time ago not to ask why. "We're here for a moment, and then we're set free," I sang in a song called "If Fall Is Well," based on a child's malapropism. Asking why somebody died, or why someone had to die, or why all of us have to die only leads to facts and speculation, not answers. 

"I don't know what happens when people die

Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try

It's like a song I can hear playing right in my hear

That I can't sing, but I can't help listening..."

Jackson Browne

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IU1rZa8Ur_Q

I wrote a chapter for a book that became a poem that became a song, called "Castles of Sand." It's about the temporal nature of life, the need to create even in the face of changing tides and winds. "But the tide's rushing in, the ocean will win" can be cause for despair...or a different understanding of life.  Tibetan Monks create elaborate sand paintings that they consider "gifts to the wind."

Castles of sand are my gift to the sea

Although it expects very little of me

Footprints were never intended to last

Forever is mostly a thing of the past

I'm building my castles with sand. 

Van Morrison, a long time ago, sang, "It ain't why, why, why; it just is." Accepting that is the first part of accepting the death of a loved one, a friend, an acquaintance. Footprints were never intended to last. We're here for a moment, and then we're set free.

http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=11

I learned of John's death early Friday morning. For most of the day, I was alternatively shocked and numb. We weren't close friends, just long-term associates and colleagues. We took classes together. We worked on committees together. We watched as each others' families grew. I assumed these patterns would continue into old age.

That's not how it turned out for John.

All weekend, I hurt -- mostly for John's wife and three children, not for John.  As the Eagles sing, "He's gone far beyond the grade; but we who must remain go on living just the same." I probably hurt a little for myself as well. I could ask why it wasn't me instead, but it ain't why, why, why. It just is. Listening to the Karla Bonoff song above brought fresh tears to my eyes, as did Jackson Browne's song, which I asked my college roommate to sing at my mother's funeral. If you've ever hear Rosie Greer sing "It's all right to cry, 'cause crying gets the sad out of you" On Marlo Thomas' "Free To Be You And Me," you know there are restorative powers in sad songs. They say so much, according to Elton John.

But so do happy songs. My sister has the pleasure of living in New Orleans, and town that's taken far too many beatings, yet it's heart keeps beating. Jazz funerals in New Orleans are nothing if not celebrations in music, dance, color, and spirit. This tradition was apparently transported from Africa. Dirges and hymns transport the deceased, family, and associates to the cemetery, but the music changes to more lively, spirited songs after the deceased is laid to rest. The "second line" is made up of people who simply enjoy the music and the dancing. The memorial of my sister's partner ended in a second line, where we symbolically "cut the body loose."  Knowing her, she's dancing among the stars. In this spirit, I offer this rendition of "Brother John" by David Lindley.  Goodbye, John; we hardly knew you. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yui9OxMJHfY&feature=related

If there were no music...

If there were no music, then I would not get through

I don't know why I know these things, but I do.

Shawn Colvin

I can easily make it through a day without sports. I know that makes me rather rare in my gender and culture. A game, a contest, a match -- interesting to watch, but when it's over it's just a score. 17 to 10. 2 to 1. 5 to 5 tie.  Even when the scores contribute to rankings and standings, sports just don't make my day. I'm happy for those who need to know the score; I'd rather conduct the score.

I can also easily skip the daily news. News seems to come in the following categories:

• bad news (i.e., disasters, scandals, violation of any or all of the 10 Commandments, things that show nature and humanity at its worst) 
• opinion (the pundit who shouts last shouts best -- regardless of facts)

I find that watching or reading the news rarely leaves me better informed. At most, it desensitizes me to the conflict, fear, and pain highlighted somewhere in the world. At worst, it contributes to a soul-numbing hopelessness that makes me feel like throwing my hands up in the air and saying "what's the point?"  In "Information Wars, Jackson Browne captures this sentiment well:

And in the flickering light and the comforting glow

You get the world each night as a TV show

The latest spin on the s#%t we're in, blow by blow

And the more you watch, the less you know...

Famine and disaster right in front of you

And the more you watch, the less you do

(Information Wars) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIU5AQ2oVtc

Elsewhere, Jackson Browne sings about "the shouts and cries of the human disaster." The bad news is told; the good news doesn't sell. Missing a day of news isn't a problem for me because the news doesn't seem to change much from day to day.

I can't go for a day without music.

It's impossible. If it's not in the air, its on my mind. Music is good news.

I wake up to a DJ (Dan Mitchell, no relation), who plays music from the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and each song evokes a time, a place, people, memories. Music is a vehicle for memories and emotions.  On the way to work, I play music from the 8500+ songs on my iPod; it's on shuffle so I never know what might pop up next. Songs and quotes from lyrics often show up in my discussions and written communication. Music is the universal language, if only we're willing to listen. In each of the books I've written for higher education, every essay begins with a song quote. I guess I've extended that practice in this blog.

The quote at the top comes from a beautiful song written and performed by Shawn Colvin. It's called "I Don't Know Why."  Listen:

(I Don't Know Why) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67flP6YePgs

The first time I heard that song, several years ago, it resonated clearly with me. I can't remember the circumstances, the challenges I may have been going through, or what shape the world was in that day; I just remember thinking to myself, she's right. Take away the music -- the soundtrack of my life -- and you have "...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" (Macbeth).  To be sure,  relationships would still be precious and paramount, but even they would suffer from the absence of harmony, rhythm, counterpoint, tempo, and melody.

I don't mean to suggest that sports and news aren't important, their sound and fury notwithstanding. I'm suggesting that they're only a part of the picture. For me, the picture needs a soundtrack.  Music even plays an important role in setting the stage for news and sports, movies, television, religious observances, fireworks displays -- and so on.

I grew up in a church that didn't allow instrumental music in services. Despite significant evidence of flutes, lyres, drums, cymbals, trumpets, harps, and more in our Bible, the elders of the group determined that because instrumental music was not specifically mentioned in the New Testament, it should not be included in services. As a teenager , I once asked one of these elders, "Air conditioning and carpeting weren't mentioned either, but we have those here; what's the difference?"  He informed me that someday I would understand.

I don't.

Music should be at the heart of our celebrations, ceremonies, and gatherings, and if instruments enhance the experience, bring them on!  But, as James Taylor sings about his guitar, "If he can't go to heaven, baby, I don't want to go."

Songs about babies and children, falling in love, experiencing loss and suffering, holding out hope for the future, regret what might have been, picking up the pieces and starting over.

Give us this day our daily tunes.

I'll glance at the news on TV now and then, maybe listen to a little Public Radio. I'll even take in a college football game on a crisp autumn day, and I'm not going to miss those Super Bowl commercials. But if there were no music...well, I hope I never encounter a day like that. If I do, I'll probably write a song about it.

I'll close with one I made up on the spot for a broken-hearted college classmate many years ago. It didn't change the world, but it made her smile.

(Our Songs For You) http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=35

After The Storm

Where were you when the earthquake and hurricane of 2011 hit?

I was mostly safe and dry in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley. Close enough to feel the 5.8 earthquake from Central Virginia; far enough from the Atlantic to only get moderate amounts of rain and wind from Irene.

Still, two dramatic expressions from Mother Earth like this in one week is enough. There must be some music out there to capture the mood.

Unfortunately, there aren't many songs about earthquakes (with the possible exception of Bill Nye the Science Guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xe7mfz8dnjw). 

There's also a song titled "Earthquake" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yeJBd746-4w) from a singer that goes by "Little Boots," but it's not about the geologic variety, any more than is Carole King's "I Feel The Earth Move"   (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoHuxpa4h48).

There are plenty of songs about shaking, although I don't think they really have much to do with earthquakes. Here's just a sampling:

• "Shake, Rattle and Roll" by Bill Haley
• "Shakin' All Over" by the Guess Who (pre- Burton Cummings/American Woman).
• "The Hippy Hippy Shakes" by the Swinging Blue Jeans
• "Shake Your Booty" by K. C. and the Sunshine Band
• "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" by Jerry Lee Lewis
• "All Shook Up" by Elvis

But there is "Earthquake Song" from an obscure group from the early 1980s called "The Little Girls" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceY2zAMkCqQ&feature=player_embedded#!).
Whatever happened to them, and why wasn't this song an international hit? Sure, they're dancing is about as first-world white-girl as it gets, but they seem to be having a lot of fun! This is the kind of song I want to hear the next time my massive 1930's bluestone building starts to shake.

For songs about hurricanes, Neil Young's "Like a Hurricane" would be at the top of my list  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Obfci1CIqq8). I'll admit that it's just a metaphor for an intense relationship, but when Mr. Young cranks up that Les Paul guitar, his long hair blowing in the staged wind, you're no longer in the eye of the storm; you're getting blown away with him. Picture Dorothy and Toto listening to "Like A Hurricane" as their Kansas farmhouse lifted off to Oz.

Neil Young seems to be someone who's weathered many storms of life. From the Buffalo Springfield to CSNY to Crazy Horse and any number of variations on those themes, he's been in the public eye since the mid 1960s. He has the capacity to reinvent himself without losing himself. Not many other performers of his generation are still standing, still performing, and still creating. Long may he run.

Though widespread, the earthquake caused relatively little damage. The same can't be said about Irene, with significant flooding still expected. Either way, it's clear that nature, events, circumstances, or serendipity are going to happen regardless of our best laid plans. From one of Jackson Browne's postmortem songs for his friends ("For A Rocker"), comes some lines that have occurred to me often of late:

I'm gonna tell you something I found out

Whatever you think your life is about

Whatever life may hold in store

Things will happen that you won't be ready for

But we can always sing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_NK7mI8xec ("For A Rocker")