Taking Care of Parents and Retiring at the Same Time

This post originally appeared in the Cameron Herald on 2020-01-16.

Many people my age are trying to figure out how to care for aging parents with retirement staring them in the face. Some of us have already dealt with those issues. Some have it all sorted. Some don’t know where to start.

As this column goes along, I’ll talk more about helping elder parents—or ourselves—stay at home longer and remain more independent while doing so. Today, I just want to introduce myself and say a word or two about my new company, Hearts, Homes, and Hands.

As you can tell from the byline, my name is Ernest Lee Bruns. I’m a junior. I chose to retire from the corporate world several years ago when I was caring for my father, who was in the last stages of cancer.

Dad taught me a lot about perseverance and tenacity. He always said, “Don’t let that old rockin’ chair get you.” He didn’t. He planted and cared for forty acres of corn the year he died. He was 92 years old, and this was his second bought with cancer. When he was in the hospital for the last time, he was more worried about his corn than anything else. The first thing he asked when he came out from his final round of chemo was about the yield.

When the doctors allowed him to go home to die, my nephew Chris and I knew we had more on our hands than we could handle and still do this wonderful man justice—even with the help of hospice and home health. Chris hired a personal assistance service to help with bathing and other needs.

I’m proud to say Dad died at home, surrounded by people who loved him and cared for him. He could look out his bedroom window and see the house where he was born 92 years before.

When Sue Ann and I started planning how we would wind down our final years without putting an undue burden on the kids, we were surprised to find out there wasn’t a state licensed and insured personal assistance service (PAS) around. From where we live, the closest ones were in Bryan/College Station or Temple. Standard has the home health and hospice support covered, but if we needed help staying at home—help with housekeeping, running errands, cooking, bathing, and so on—we’d either have to ask the kids to give up part of their lives or hire someone privately.

When you hire individuals, you’re responsible for their unemployment insurance, for their medical bills if they get hurt in your service, and for finding a replacement if they fail to show up. None of this is something we wanted to do while we were struggling to take care of ourselves or each other. You have enough on your mind at that point without worrying about finding someone to help your loved one get to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

We called my niece Kathleen to see if she wanted to help us start a PAS. She had been the administrator of the PAS Chris hired to help take care of Dad and had more than a decade of experience running a successful PAS in Victoria. She and Chris fell in love and got married the year after Dad died, but that’s another story. She came up to Cameron; we came to agreement; and Hearts, Homes, and Hands was born.

Hearts, Homes, and Hands is licensed and regulated by the state of Texas. We are responsible for providing the care you need. We’ll be there for you, even if the person originally scheduled has a “family emergency” or something and can’t show up. We cover their workers’ compensation and unemployment insurance if they get hurt and do everything necessary to ensure your peace of mind—at least with regard to caring for yourself or a loved one.

And the bottom line is this: I’m not just an owner of the company, I’m a client. We take care of you like we take care of our own—in this case, Sue Ann and me.

Thanksgiving 2019

Rollie, Suna, and Declan picked dead things for the table centerpiece. Omnia perit. Photo by Declan

Where’s Declan? Hint: he shows up twice. Photo by Suna

Easy lovin’, everyday’s Thanksgiving,

To count all my blessings,

I wouldn’t know where to start

— Freddie Hart (1926-2018)

I swear I’m not just writing so much about gratitude this week because it’s Thanksgiving in the US. That is a factor, but it’s not the only one. I am really feeling grateful for all that’s happening to me and that I’m accomplishing. But this post focuses specifically on Thanksgiving Day.

Using my new journaling system, I blocked off the whole day as Family Time. And that’s how I spent it. I watched my Cowboys lose again. I listened to someone cry about everyone treating her unfairly. We had friends and family over. And I finally went to bed having accomplished everything on my to-do list—specifically eating too much.

Someone on NPR today said that Thanksgiving is representative of America’s genius. You don’t need to have a specific ethnicity, creed, or religion to celebrate it. All you need is people and food. And to day we certainly had those in abundance. I really am grateful.

The dishes can wait for another day.

Grateful Monday

I am always grateful for these two cute dogs—even when they eat my shoes.

I got to give Milam Touch of Love a check to cover buying materials for the new dog run at the City of Cameron pound. Photo by Suna

Harvey and Suna both love to sing, and I enjoy listening to them.

A big black dog

Little too much gray around the muzzle

A big black dog

Why she ended up at the pound is a puzzle

—Emmylou Harris and Will Jennings

This week is another of those that prove the need to cherish the things that don’t go to plan as much as those that do. Everything you experience goes how you want it to, benefits you or your community in unexpected ways, or teaches you something that will make you a better person going forward.

Sarita snags … again.

The Sarita sale keeps hitting snag after snag. On Friday, the title company called for payoff so they could complete the settlement statement. The mortgage company “couldn’t find the loan.” By the time this snag was resolved, it was too late to finish the statement today. They can finish it on Monday, but FHA requires three days to review it. That would put closing on Thanksgiving Day. Looks like next Monday will be the earliest we can close.

The incompetence of title companies and mortgage companies is outside of my control. I’m doing better at accepting this reality. The Realtor® helping us with the sale thanked me for “being so patient.”

Better living through chemistry. Right? Not so much. I’m grateful to be learning to focus on what I can affect.

Cars are expensive!

Through a series of decisions, we now own three cars that need to be inspected, licensed, and maintained in November. This year, I failed to set up a reserve to handle this expense. So of course, my car needed thousands of dollars in repairs.

The timing is set and can’t be changed unless I trade vehicles. The lack of reserves is something I can correct, and I will.

I am grateful I had more than enough set back in the family’s general reserve account to cover the combined expense.

Tractor Supply rocks!

Suna and I went to the Herne Tractor Supply to buy things for the horses. While we were there, we got to talking with a really nice guy who turned out to be the store manager … at least, until January sometime.

He helped us find all the materials we need to build a big dog run for the City of Cameron’s pound. Now that we know where to find all the materials, Hearts, Homes, and Hands cut a check to Milam Touch of Love, the charity that supports pounds and animal rescues in Milam County, to cover the expense. Next week, we will go pick up all the materials, and my nephew Chris has promised to help put the run together over the Thanksgiving weekend.

I am so grateful we could help further the work of MToL and help take care of the lovely animals who end up in the Cameron pound.

Gratitude (Introduction)

Cesar reportedly had a slave to remind him of his mortality. Stoicism suggest we approach every action, every decision as if it were our last. Photo source: The Daily Stoic Store

Of Fronto, [I have learned] how much envy and fraud and hypocrisy the state of a tyrannous king is subject unto, and how they who are commonly called ευπατρίδαι, i.e. nobly born, are in some sort incapable, or void of natural affection.

—Marcus Aurelius

I know you, my theoretical readers, have noticed I don’t blog religiously. A lot of my blogging is playing catch-up, copying what I have written for other publications into this solitary reliquary.

What I do, or try to do, religiously is journal. That’s right, on paper. I’ve found using electronic journaling leads to focusing on minutia at the expense of more important matters. I can jot down a bullet point if something is important enough and then review those jottings to keep my focus on what matters.

Part of my journaling practice involves meditating on what I am grateful for each day. I focus on two things first thing in the morning as part of my wake-up transition. I also leave room for one more to be discovered in the course of the day. That way I am reminded to always be on the lookout for something to be grateful for. As Marcus Aurelius said, “The quality of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts.”And I want the quality of my thoughts to guide me toward gratitude and tranquility...as well as financial success. Those three goals are not mutually exclusive. According to Maslow, they are linear and dependent.

I first read Aurelius either late in high school or early in college. I’ve kept a copy of his Meditations with me ever since. As a stoic, he believed that we should be grateful for everything that happens to us—good, bad, and indifferent.

We don’t know if a thing is good or bad when we experience it. We can only make that determination in hindsight, once we look back and see its effects. For example, a friend of mine developed sever stomach pains. It turned out she had an ulcer. But in diagnosing the cause of the pain, her doctors found out she had picked up a parasite on a South American vacation a couple of weeks before. The parasitic infestation was not advanced enough to cause symptoms, but the ulcer enabled them to find it before it started doing irreparable damage to her organs. Her ulcer, painful as it was, turned out to be a good thing.

Thinking about that, I realized I should publish my gratitude on this blog in the unlikely event that someone will find it interesting or useful. I will start with today’s three items and incorporate future and past items as I can.

Penny and Carlton often make us go,“Awwww.” Photo by: Suna

Today’s Gratitude

Suna’s company

Until she retires, we are maintaining separate residences. She lives in Austin half-time and at the ranch with me the other half. I really appreciate her company when she is here. I also appreciate her absence when she is gone because it reminds me how much I enjoy the time I do get to spend with her.

The Daily Stoic

This podcast reminds me that everyone faces trials and tribulations. These rough patches can be prepared for and are not so upsetting if you teach yourself to expect them. It taught me that I have always tried to live a semi-stoic lifestyle. Like Buddhism, stoicism is a practice, not an accomplishment.

Carlton and Penny

These two have been exceptionally sweet today. They made Suna and I both go, “Awwww” many times.

Happy Birthday, Ralph

We did have another visitor yesterday. Elaine stopped by the ranch on her way from Austin to Houston. Photo by: Suna

Happy birthday to you. You live in a zoo.

You look like a monkey and smell like one, too.

—Childhood parody

Yesterday we celebrated Ralph’s 61st birthday, which actually occurs sometime around Tuesday. When it actually happens depends on how you look at it. Since he was born in Tasmania, he could celebrate more than 12 hours ahead of when he would here in the US, starting the day before. In fact, he says he has a 44 hour birthday.

As usual, he seems to of spent most of the day cooking in preparation for the party. He made what he calls a sweet and sour dish, but you can’t really tell. It didn’t taste like any sweet and sour I’ve ever had, but it was good. Also made curry dish which everyone that we would eat it said was good. While I find his crew dishes more edible than most, I avoid them when possible.

Sue Ann and Canova brought dessert, all of which got eaten.

Also in attendance were Duffy, one of his friends whose name I don’t remember, and Robert Palmer—not the singer; he’s dead, and we don’t really care for zombies showing up at our celebrations.

After dinner, Duffy regaled us with funny stories about the time he owned a rhesus monkey. We drink a lot of wine and went home.

 

Work-Life (Im)Balance or “My Why”

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling this is how we balance work and life in Corporate America. Actually, I should’ve tipped the scale a little more toward work.

You’ll never find this guy in an airport. Driving the country enables you to enjoy life and see the country. Photo by Carolina Bird Club

A glass-bottomed boat captain told us it would bring five years of good luck to have our pictures taken standing in the embrace of this tree. So here we are. Not that we’re superstitious or anything. Photo by Anita

This post originally appeared on the Hermit Haus Redevelopment website on 2016-06-09.

When I used to work in the corporate world, management had this thing they called work-life balance. They understood on some level that you couldn’t just work people to death. One even told me with a straight face, “We work to live; we don’t live to work.”

Unfortunately, management always lost sight of that goal at some point, no matter how much Mahogany Row would like to. Between product release deadlines, understaffed departments, and the unending goal to “do more with less,” the employees (if not the management) began referring to the work-work balance. In other words, “How do I work hard enough to keep my job without going crazy or postal?”

Well, that is one of the reasons I love running this company so much. You haven’t seen me post on [the Hermit Haus] blog in over a week because we ran away to Florida to celebrate Sue Ann’s high school reunion in person. No, I’m not putting a number to the reunion. (Sue Ann says, thanks.)

We chose to drive, because I think you miss out on so much of the country when you fly. And driving lets you avoid being treated like a piece of pink slime in the airports. But seriously, when was the last time you saw a roseate spoonbill in an airport? We saw several—not to mention countless other interesting birds—in their natural habitats while driving through Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, and Florida. Did I mention the Everglades?

I got to meet a lot of my wife’s oldest friends, and I liked all of them. I’m not usually good in a crowd of strangers unless I’m on stage or have a microphone in my hand. But I have to admit all of the folks she’s kept in touch with are genuinely nice and interesting people.

I have to admit; I didn’t leave my phone at home. We participated in the daily huddle meetings while driving or from our hotel rooms. Nor did I stop marketing. We told everyone we met about the business. Almost all of them brought it up first. We sprinkled a pleasure trip with business contacts. We also looked at projects wherever we stopped. You can truly do this business anywhere.

So that’s one of my “why’s.” Sue Ann and I were able to take a week off and drive across the country with minimal involvement in our business. While we were gone, work continued on all of our active redevelopment projects, and our acquisition pipeline kept active. I met old friends who may become new partners. And I had a genuinely relaxing and good time while doing all of this.

After decades as a wage slave to corporate America, I can finally say I have achieved that elusive balance between work and life. And that’s not counting my dad’s adage: “If you love what you do, it’s ain’t work.” That attitude kept him planting corn when he was 92. I hope to be redeveloping houses at 100.

We Occasionally Get to Kick Back

I am so pleased with how good a dog Brody is turning out to be. His loyalty is beyond question. Photo by: Suna

Suna enjoys a cold, funny-flavored Shiner. I prefer beer that tastes like beer.

Brody and Harvey pretend to be so ferocious. They play like predators.

After the stresses of the last week—the floods, worrying about if any of our projects were damaged in the storms (They weren’t.), and keeping up with life in general, it’s nice to be able to take a few minutes to relax and enjoy ourselves. So that is exactly what we did.

Suna and I sat on the back porch at the ranch and enjoyed the natural beauty around us. We enjoyed each other’s company. Oh, yeah. A few adult beverages were involved in the enjoyment, too.

The dogs enjoyed being able to get out and have fun. Brody and Harvey act like human brothers. They play hard. They beat each other bloody, although they are very careful not to really hurt each other. Then they curl up for a nap together. I love watching them, and they are such good companions.

San Diego

Suna and I waiting to fly out of ABIA yesterday Suna having dinner in the hotel restaurant

Does this look like a $30 meal

I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long

I never heard the melody until I needed the song

—Tom Waits

Suna, Carol, Russell and I are in San Diego for a Fortunebuilders “bootcamp.” It turns out they have a special meaning for that word that goes far beyond my previous usage. A Fortunebuilders Bootcamp is a large educational event that offers a range of classes to hundreds, if not thousands, of investors and potential investors. Russell is attending the “Internet Intensive” while Suna, Carol, and I are in the “Rental Intensive.”

The Internet Intensive focuses on using the Internet, including a proprietary system called Realeflow, to market to a range of buyers and sellers. Russell is a good choice for that since he is in charge of our back office systems and website.

I’m looking forward to the Rental Intensive and hope I learn a bunch of stuff about managing my rental portfolio.

I can’t say I’m impressed by the hotel hosting the event. The restaurant is overpriced as only a “artistic” or “trendy” place can be. Unfortunately, the quality of the food was not up to the pricing, once again demonstrating the difference between confidence and arrogance. I also wonder if the leadership isn’t looking at the hotel as a distressed commercial property that they can add value to.

 

Cowgirling

Suna helps Ralph with the cattle.

[Q: If three identically-dressed men are in a pickup, which one is the real cowboy?]

“The real cowboy’s the one in the middle

He ain’t there just by fate

Cause first he don’t have to drive

And then he don’t have to mess with the gate”

—Michael Martin Murphey

Ranch life has been really good for Suna. He love of animals encourages her to get out there and learn all about working cattle and dealing with horses. Not to mention that she knows every bird around here by name.

Today she’s out helping Ralph with the cattle. Her own description is that she looks very “rancher-ish.” She may still be more hat than cattle, but it won’t be long now.

 

A New Hope

Brody was incredulous when I told him he would have to stay at Braesgate with Elizabeth for a few days. The view from our hotel room wasn’t very impressive. The view from the event hotel parking lot was much better.

In the service of “keeping Austin weird,” they have erected these guitar statues all over downtown. Carol and Russell agree that we should work closely together in a new business. Brody was glad we got home safely.

Be true to your school now

And let your colors fly

—Brian Wilson and Mike Love

Suna and I spent the weekend in Austin attending a Fortunebuilders “training” session. Although they presented more information about flipping, which they prefer to call “redeveloping,” that we could possibly assimilate, the three days were primarily devoted to marketing further training and the back-end systems they have developed to support their own redevelopment business, CT Homes.

Carol and Russell also attended, and we sat together for much of the weekend. Russell couldn’t get off work for the Friday session, but he was there for both Saturday and Sunday.

We had lunch together almost every day, but Suna and I were on our own for dinner, when we didn’t run into someone else attending the event. Since I hate to drive in traffic, we stayed at a hotel in walking distance of the event. The weather was perfect and walking to the event (and meals) gave us some much needed exercise. It didn’t take long to develop “conference butt” as we were stuck in uncomfortable chairs for hours on end.

In the end, the four of us decided to formalize our relationship by forming a new redevelopment company, Hermit Haus Redevelopment. The name was Carol’s idea based on the fact that I am so much a hermit. We also decided to sign up for the full package of Fortunebuilder training, including joining their “Inner Circle,” which is supposed to grant us better access to the big dogs. We’ll see….

The main thing I’m looking forward to is learning how to systematize everything. I’ve worked myself into a full-time job as a real estate investor. Hopefully, the systems will enable me to offload some of what has been eating all my time. But honestly, I’ve always been better at developing systems than following them.

 

Peachtree Update

Check out how much better the front of the house looks. The kitchen looks much better with the trash removed.

The updated stove looks good. The fireplace looks really good.

Suna, Brody, and I did a semifinal walkthrough at Peachtree today. I’m really pleased. It’s about time to put it on the market.

The kitchen looks clean and modern with the dishwasher, new cabinets, and the new sink positioned so you can look at the side of the neighbor’s house while doing dishes.

We also went for that modern look when we refaced the fireplace in the living room. The living room in the center of the house is and opens to the dining area. I believe it will make a really comfortable space to relax in.

But the best part may be the spa-like bathroom. We used a large format tile in a vertical orientation. We also put in a recessed area to put shampoo and the like.

 

The bathroom may be my favorite room in the house.

Brody!

Brody wants to eat my hair.

Brody looks happy sitting in Suna’s lap during the ride home.

Today, Suna and I drove to Midlothian—a place I didn’t even know existed. There were no dragons, or even elves. But there was a nice lady who gave us a little bundle of joy.

Suna decided to name him Brody. It means “from a muddy place.” I figure that’s a great name for a dog that will grow up on a ranch.

Brody won’t replace Stella. He’ll be a completely different dog. Hopefully, he will speed the healing.

 

Seeking Shelter From the Storm

The new pond crested the dam that doubles as the entrance to the property. Where the water spills into the arroyo, it is at least eight feet deep.

That X sticking up above the water is the top of the fence. The creek bed is a quarter-mile away.

  Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm

  Come in, she said

  I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

—Bob Dylan

We found out why we have a storm room this afternoon—the one I have always joked is our “zombie apocalypse room.”

A severe storm blew up—heavy rains, gusting winds, tornados. It dumped almost three inches of rain in less than an hour. Given that the ground was already saturated and the ponds were already full to capacity, there wasn’t much hope to avoid a serious flood.

The house is on one of the highest points of the ranch. So I wasn’t worried about the flooding. The tornados were another matter. We all—Suna, me, Jaime’s family, Grillo, and Stella—all crowded into the storm room and locked the metal doors. Rose insisted on running upstairs to hide, but she and the house came through without a scratch.

The winds were strong enough to blow Jaime’s wet saw off the front porch. We also found a 4x8 sheet of metal siding buried six inches in the ground just on the other side of the gate. The siding was the wrong color to have come from any of our buildings or any of Ralph’s.

Ralph stood on his back porch taking pictures until he realized pieces of his hay barn were flying over the house. He was uninjured. In fact, the only injury sustained on either property was a small cut on one of the horses.

Our neighbors in Pettibone weren’t so lucky. The tornado touched down in that area several times. It destroyed a huge swath of trees and phone lines. It also took out at least two houses. And, yes, there were fatalities reported there. I don’t have the details.

As bad as the storm was, I’m glad we, our neighbors, and most of the country came out fairly well.

 

The creek hardly ever floods the bridge, but it did this time. Suna is fast enough to be on both ends of the picture.

Storms always make for the best sunsets—when they don’t occult the sunset.

Stella the Supervisor

“No, put it over here, Daddy.”

“Today was a great day. I got to go swimmin’ and cuddle with Mommy.”

Most of the inside hearth is cinder block and cement wrapped in the same German tile as the fireplace wall. The exterior hearth will be the same thing wrapped in the same stone as the house. The top of both hearths is a very fossilly two-inch thick limestone.

Jaime determined that the blocks were too big to be esthetic as they arrived from the quarry. My job today is to pick the parts of the blocks with the most fossils. Stella helped.

Jaime and crew will cut them to my markings and position them on top of the cinder blocks. This is a lot of physical work—for Jaime’s crew, not me—and I don’t begrudge them a dime of what I’m paying them. Their artisanship and sheer talent will make this house much more beautiful than I ever imagined.

 

Horsing Around

Suna gets Apache to do stuff.

I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name

It felt good to be out of the rain

—Dewey Bunnell

Suna spent the weekend at a Parelli horsemanship workshop in Leander. I’m proud of her. Working with and taking care of Apache has really boosted her self-confidence.

 

Who Says I Can’t Horse?

Apache and I get along. Neither of us
wants to ride the other.

We’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces singing

Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses

—Scotty Emerick,Toby Keith

Suna was “grooming” Apache today. That means she was brushing him and picking out any burrs but mostly petting and spoiling him. She did a good job with the actual grooming. In doing so, she put some glitter (or something like it) in his main to make it sparkle. Being a very friendly animal (who is embarrassed by bling), he rubbed it all over my shirt. Now I’m bedazzled, too.

 

Everything Is Kinda Alright

Dad at Christmas

Everything is kinda all right

We gonna make it through the long night

And everything’s gonna work out all right

Long as we keep a-movin’ on

—Charlie Daniels

I should have posted about this a while back, but I’ve never been that good at keeping up with my journals, even though I keep starting them.

I chose the title of this post from the Charlie Daniels song quoted above because that is how I feel after talking to Dad on the phone this evening. It’s not great, but some times all right is all you get…or need.

The picture of Dad is from our trip to see him at Christmas. This picture and many of the recent ones bring a different song to mind.

Well, to me he’s one of the heroes of this country

So why’s he all dress up like them old men?

—Guy Clark

That’s not how he sounded when we talked. And that’s not how I feel tonight.

Dad is now almost through with his radiation therapy. Because they’re irradiating the same general area as when he had colon cancer, he can only take half of what the radiologist said he would normally do for bladder cancer. Dad seems to be tolerating the therapy very well. Today was the first time he complained of any side effects, and those are not beyond the pale of his normal range of symptoms.

So, I’m reasonably optimistic. Dad is in good spirits and has some goals set. They aren’t as long-term as he once set, but they are very reasonable for someone pushing 89. I am very pleased that one of them is to reach 90. When he accomplishes that, he can set some more. As he noted today, “You have to have goals.”

On a completely different note, Suna and I had dinner tonight with Tubaboy and his girlfriend, who has a vaguely Princess Di-ish look to her. (She is a very sweet girl from Montana.) She used Tubaboy’s kitchen to prepare an eggplant primavera. I was really surprised at how delicious it was—not that I had any doubts about her culinary capabilities; it was the eggplant part that bothered me.

After dinner, we walked around campus and visited Tubaboy’s roommate at work. On the way home, I saw a huge gray fox run across the street. Now I know why the dogs have been in an uproar the past several nights.

Tommy

We went to see Tommy last night at Cedar Park Center (CPC). Roger Daltrey and Simon Townshend, who turns out to be Pete’s brother—I was thinking son—put on a helluva show.

As always we were a little stressed about getting there as I get off work so late. Suna wanted to go straight to the bank and then to the show. I wanted to grab a quick bite so we didn’t have to pay ridiculous amounts of money for microwaved barfburgers. We stopped at subway and still made it to the show a half-hour early. Having the performance only a few miles from the house is a real convenience! And CPC is very well-designed for access and egress. Traffic was almost pleasant. (See if I ever say that again!)

We had really good seats, but I sure hope Suna’s photos come out better than mine. Too bad we couldn’t bring a real camera and had to settle for the phones. Here’s the least bad shot of the opening act.

The opening act was an animated Welshman named Paul Freeman. He brought a rock and roll sensibility to the acoustic guitar you see in the picture.

We really enjoyed his set. Daltrey’s sound system was set perfectly for vocals accompanied by an acoustic guitar. Freeman played several originals, the a cover of Anything You Want. He wrapped up with a couple more originals and even brought a pre-teen from the audience on stage to sing with him.

While the kid was walking up, Freeman admitted, “I wish I’d known there were children in the audience a half-hour ago.’ This was in regret for dropping the F-bomb a couple of times. The kid blustered through singing his part, and Freeman made him sound good.

Then it was time for the main act.

Daltrey, Townshend, and crew take the stage.

The band was tight, moving seamlessly from one song to the next. The road crew kept the guitarists in fresh guitars, sometimes bringing Townshend more than one during a song. The show was the definition of professionalism in almost all aspects.

Tommy comprised a little less than half of the show. I am so glad I finally got to see it live. Daltrey was in excellent voice, considering he said he has undergone throat surgery and therapy “over the last two years.” In anything, Simon Townshend has a stronger voice than his brother, and he covered Pete’s parts with ease. I was also very impressed with how well Daltrey sang Entwistle’s and Moon’s songs, which are in very different ranges and timbres than his usual. Both Townshend and the guitarist (whom Daltrey introduced as his music director) used devices similar to The Vocalist, so it often sounded as if there were 12 or more voices on stage coming from the four with mikes. (The drummer had a mike, but he banged it more often than he pretended to sing into it.)

Nobody slings a mike like Daltrey! Photo source: SongKick

The sound system was perfect for the vocals, but it also provided my only complaint about the evening. It was perfect if all you wanted to hear was the vocals and the music director’s guitar. The keys were almost always buried in the mix, as you would expect for a power guitar band. Townshend’s guitar was also lost in the mix except for a few occasions where he had the dominant part. But as soon as the music director started playing, Townshend was almost inaudible.

The bass player played a Fender (Precision, I think) with an octave doubler. The lower octave was mixed a little hot, which really muddied the sound. When the drums joined in, the low frequencies had all the punch of day-old oatmeal. In short, the equipment was state-of-the-art; the mix was not. The one bright spot to a fellow bass player was when he switched to upright bass. When he did that, the nervousness drained from his body and he just played. Not only that, the sound was clear and perfect—even with the rest of the band playing.

One unique idea Daltrey brings to this tour is to post mp3s of every performance. I would suggest you check out his “Johnny Cash Medley” or the whole thing, but you’d have to buy the download to hear more than 30 seconds of any song or more than part of the intro to the Cash medley.

There were a couple of times the band stopped playing, so you could say there was an encore even though the band never really left the stage. But really, Daltrey just kept going until he could’t sing anymore. I hope he sees it as a kindness that we all left when he said goodnight instead of demanding more.

If you get a chance to see one of the other tour stops, do so.

NAMI Walk

Suna and I participated in NAMI Walks in Austin this morning. It involved waking up. Early. For us.

This morning, Suna and I joined friends from Live Oak, Wildflower, and First Unitarian Universalist churches to help raise money for NAMI, the National Aliance on Mental Illness. Although we knew it was a good cause and a good walk, we were’t exactly clear on what the acronym stood for. Was it the National Association for or against Mental Illness. Neither one sounded right because both were wrong.

We met some friends at Starbucks in Round Rock, and they drove us in to the event.

The walk was too much for some of the participants. Here two volunteers try to resuscitate a poor feller who collapsed en route.

We parked across the street from the walk, which was to take us from Ladybird Lake up Congress Avenue, around the Capitol, and back again. As with many of these health-conscious events, a large part of the preparation involved eating donuts and standing around with friends. I got to take a lot of pictures of dogs, people, and the city.

“Move over there! You! Jeez, it’s easier to herd cats!

NAMI organized team pictures. I hope our captain can obtain a copy for us. It was something of an ordeal for the photographer-in-the-sky, and I want him to know his efforts are appreciated. After several attempts to get our group to move back far enough to get us all in frame, he gave up and moved his ladder. Even so, he had a little more trouble getting some of us to move to the right until he pointed out that it was his left.

Two valid points: 1) Corporatism does not equate to capitalism. 2) Corporations are not people.

One of my favorite parts of the walk was when we passed the Occupy Austin protesters who, like the Occupy Wall Street gang, are still trying to figure out what they want to replace the egregious corporate greed of our financial sector with. The UUs cheered them, and they cheered us back. (Neither group cheered as loudly on the return trip. I think we were tired.) They seem to be nice people, even if I can’t figure out what they want from their media presence. Maybe that’s because they seem to be a clearinghouse for disparate leftist agendas…like what the Democratic Party was before they were assimilated into the Wall Street Continuum. Sorry for the Star Trek mashup, but it seemed appropriate.

There was even a visitor from another planet.

The Band of Heathens

Matt the Electrician opened for The Band of Heathens.

Suna won tickets to go see The Band of Heathens today. She had to brave downtown Austin twice: first she had to go pick up the tickets from KUT, and then she had to drive us down there for the show.

She drove because I hate driving downtown. So she picked me up from work, and we headed straight to the concert at Antone’s. Traffic was incredibly light considering we were in the middle of SXSW, and we got there in only a half hour. That left us an hour to kill before they even opened the doors.

I found the teller machine and then we walked Antone’s. We stayed outside looking at the skyline, looking at the front door, looking at the skyline, and listening to some kind of a punk band at The Lucky Lounge next door. Finally they opened the doors and let us in.

This guy did a really good job filling in on lead guitar for Matt the Electrician.

I was completely unprepared. I had wanted to get there early so that we could get good seats, but when we got and we found there is no seating at Antone’s. It is a big stage with a big open floor and several bars. They have room for the merchandise set up and their little bitty record store. But there was only standing room. When they say it’s SRO at Antone’s, they aren’t kidding.

The new album is well worth the money. Buy it from the band.

Suna and I each pick up identical heathens T-shirts. Well, not identical. They are at our respective sizes. And we got the new album. It was a CD release party after all. What about the vinyl edition because it had for bonus tracks and came with a CD anyway.

We met some nice people and talked with them and save each other’s places sitting on the stage so that we could be that close to bands when they started. One of the young girls that we were talking to was there waiting on her father who apparently had taken her to see the band of heathens when she was still wager young to be in the clubs. Boy that something I know something about, having grown up in bars—but those usually had chairs and tables.

Finally Matt the Electrician started his set. If you know Matt, I don’t need to say anything. If you don’t know him, saying anything about him won’t do the job. He’s a really good pop singer who plays a ratty old banjo and tells great stories between the songs. You can listen to one of his songs here.

This guy (I really should learn their names) acted like the leader. At least, he had no problems telling the keyboard player to play in a lower register.

Matt ended his set with a cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times,” taking his guitarist completely by surprise. The guy (whose name I didn’t catch, but Suna says he plays for Slaid Cleves) took it in stride. He seemed fairly nonplused and even managed a good solo. I was impressed with Matt’s ability to cover this song. He did better than Plant, but so would a cat undergoing castration without anesthetics.

The girl’s father showed up shortly before The Heathens took the stage, sometime during The Electrician’s set. And when they did, OMG…

We owned both of their previous studio CDs, so I was somewhat familiar with the music, but I wasn’t really prepared. The Heathens are definitely a live band. The albums, although very good and worth listening to on their own, don’t do them justice. I’m going to have to buy a couple of their live CDs and see if those catch the heart and spirit of the performance.

Here is a real professional, untouched by any melodrama unfolding on stage around him.

Let me tell you, brother. The Heathens rock. They rock. Even though they’re singer songwriters, The Heathens is an electric band, and they rock.

The Heathens includes three lead vocalists, each of whom can stand on his own. The apparent leader plays an adequate guitar. He learns his parts and place them well, but his real job is to be a singer. And he sings very well indeed. The other main guitarist seems like an old-timey blues stringer. He can play a mean guitar, a slide guitar, a mandolin like the one we bought for Tubaboy, and just about anything else he wants I bet. The last vocalist (of whom I was unable to get a good picture) sounds a lot like Kenny Loggins in the early Loggins and Messina days. He’s also the best guitarist of three. He smokes, and he’s a pretty damn good keyboard player, too.

The bassist¹ and the other (my favorite) singer

I didn’t get the bass player’s name, but I did get an acceptable picture of him. The sad thing was that they didn’t run him through the house mains. He was competing with the band was just his unmiked, mid-sized Ampeg rig. They didn’t even run him through the subs hidden under the stage. So sad. But then mostly what he played was quarter notes on the tonic. I think this was to satisfy some perverse tendency of the guitarists because when he went for it, he let loose with some interesting chops that I could barely hear. Strangely enough, he is very present on the studio CDs.

---

1 Note the piece of foam near the tailpiece. It’s there to keep the strings from ringing. All Fender basses used to come with a chrome tailpiece cover that had a damper built in. Why “used to?” Well, you can still get it if you order it, but most bass players take it off, anyway. The tailpiece and pickup covers on my ’72 Jazz lasted about five minutes. That’s how long it took me to find a screwdriver once I got my favorite bass home.