More To Be Grateful For

Beccano in his brother’s dorm residence hall living-learning domicile

Last night Beccano told us that Junior Roundup—the day juniors at McNeil get their schedules and books—was this morning. Both he and Suna said that he had told us previously, and it had slipped all of our minds. So I got up early (for me) this morning to take him by school.

We had a nice talk on the way to school. About half way there, he said, “You know. You don’t have to go in with me. I’m just going to get my books. It shouldn’t take that long since I’m not getting a locker or anything. That’s what takes all the time.” So we planned put where and how I should pick him up when he was done.

I found a parking place in the lee of the PAC and started this blog about how proud I am of this young man. It was just a couple of years ago that he wouldn’t even ask a clerk at a game store about a game he really wanted. Now here he is going into a crowded room to deal with authority figures on his own—not wanting his peers to see him with a parental unit.

It also made me aware of how independent Trackgrease was and how I should have appreciated that more.

I am grateful to have had both of these fine young men in my life. I have learned so much from each of them that my paltry contributions to them are negligible in comparison. Mostly I am grateful to Trackgrease for surviving the vast number of parenting mistakes his mother and I made in raising him. I would do a much better job if I could have a do-over.

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RIP: Les Paul

I think more people will recognize the guitar than a picture of the man.Photo by: his1K

OK. I never was a big fan of Les Paul (June 9, 1915 – August 13, 2009). I only recently discovered how much I like the music he and Mary Ford recorded before I was born. But no one can doubt the influence he had on twentieth century music. Where would rock and roll be without the guitar that bore his name?

Ironically, when The Economist showed up in the mail on Friday, the cover featured an angel playing a Les Paul guitar to promote a feature on why we love music.

Les Paul became an inspiration to me a few years ago when I heard an NPR interview with him. Arthritis had all but taken his hands. He could only use one finger on his left hand consistently, sometimes two. But he kept playing. The bit they played on the radio sounded as good as many four-fingered guitarists and better than most.

How did he deal with the pain? He said, if you want to play, you do what you have to.

Les Paul died last Thursday, but today I am grateful for all that he gave us.

Convocation

Suna is talking to a neighbor we haven’t seen in a long time. We actually met a lot of people have known or should have known on campus this weekend.

The convocation was held in the gym. All us old folk had to sit in plastic bleachers or folding chairs for an hour or so before the event began— just long enough for ourbutts to go to sleep and our backs to ache.

A brass quintet started a few minutes before the students arrived. They played well, but the gathered families wouldn’t shut up enough to be able to hear the band. Some of us applauded any way.

While we were waiting, we met a nice family I’m San Antonio. We talked of traffic, the drought, and hail storms until the quintet started playing.

Of course, I had to go just before the students marched in, but I got to see Kynan and Nic precess anyway.

Kynan’s roommate and Beccano leaving the brunch.

The convocation itself sounded more Unitarian as it went on. The speech on integrity drove home both why we were today and what has gone wrong in this country since Reagan, maybe even Nixon or Johnson.

Afterward, the kids all gathered outside on a set of bleachers for a panoramic photo. We got a couple of shots or parts of Kynan’s face in the crowd. Then we gave him the last of the stuff from home (at least, until he comes home for the first time). The students still have a full day ahead and a busy week to follow.

Suna, Beccano, and I went home with a brief stop a Piranha Records, where I got a Stone Coyotes CD. Beccano, who inspired the stop, couldn’t find anything he wanted.

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Beginnings

This is the “living learning center” where Tubaboy will live for the next academic year. When I was in college, we called them “dorms.”

Suna and I spent the day on the campus of Southwestern University in Georgetown. The students had their own activities, while parents were ensconced in crowded lectures that either extolled the virtues of the university or encouraged us to let go and empower our fledglings to solve their own problems—a learning method in which I wholeheartedly believe. (That may be the longest sentence I have written in 20+ years.)

For example: we learned the value of shelf liner in the morning session. To be fair, there was also a lot of information repeated from the New Student Day this Spring. But that repetition was needed as the crowd today was much larger than this Spring. Many of the adults hadn’t already been told of the campus police presence. Or of the dedication of the faculty and staff to the betterment of our children.

Suna enjoyed the lemonade they served to keep us from keeling over on a 100º+ cloudless afternoon.

All of the speakers were as polished as you would expect from a highly rated, if small, liberal arts college. Most were even funny, and all seemed sincere and caring. The cynic in me says that’s why they were the ones on stage, but I have also found those qualities in everyone we have met here.

One thing I am certain of is that if Kynan starves here, it’s his own damned fault. The food is plentiful and good, and I don’t believe that is just to impress the parents. It is institutional food—very good institutional food, but still very institutional.

I started this post during the second afternoon session, which was misnamed “Begin with the End in Mind” or something very like that. It was really four students droning about how great Southwestern is now that they have adjusted to college life. Since I have always been turned off by self-proclamations of school spirit (thanks to the fascist traditions of Brazoswood High), I left to read and write for a few minutes.

Mobile Blogging from here.

Life Is Hard But Good

OK. Suna blogged this one, too. But it’s such a nice picture. Photo by: Jon Montgomery

Well, I’m still not blogging with the consistency that I was earlier this year, but maybe that’s a good thing. Work is good, and it’s been taking most, if not all, of my writing energy lately. So I’ll keep this Grateful Monday short.

This week I’m grateful that our family economics are to the point where both Suna and I can start investing some of our energies outside the home. Tonight, Suna is leading a meeting at church. I cooked a nice sausage dinner—Suna and Beccano picked out the sausage yesterday—and had it ready when Suna got home.

Suna, the boys, and I sat down to dinner and conversation, something else to be grateful for. In spite of the dreadful manipulation of paranoid souls in which the Right continues to engage, I have some hope for the future. With Trackgrease, Tubaboy, and Beccano putting their energies into making the world a better place, how can we fail? Again.

John Deere Green

Dad sits in his new tractor.

See the album on Facebook.

This was a long Saturday. I started, as usual, by oversleeping. Mom once gave me a plaque for my bedroom door that reads, “There has to be a better way to start out the day than by getting up in the morning.”

Suna had a beading class in the afternoon. So after reviewing the calendar earlier this week, I determined that this would probably be the only weekend this month that I could make the trip down—even a day trip.

Other than just seeing Dad again, I wanted to meet his new tractor. After five years of arguing with him, we were finally able to talk him into the tractor. Not only does he deserve the new tractor, he needs it to be able to stay on the farm and continue working it. He hasn’t had air conditioning in his old tractor for several years. I believe this lack contributed to and worsened his recent health problems.

Chris and Beth were again spending the weekend at the farm. Chris was busy fixing things that, being neither a farmer nor a welder, I had no idea how to fix. He built a couple of new stands for Dads implements. Dad had been propping these implements on rickety collections of scrap lumber and stone.

After lunch, Beth and I drove into Victoria to buy a connector I needed to hook up speakers to the new TV Chris gave Dad a couple of weeks ago. It took much longer than I thought because we made several pointless stops, learning, among other things, that the Radio Shack in Cuero no longer exists and that the Best Buy in Victoria Mall is a dark and scary place.

While we were doing that Dad took a nap and Chris fixed the generator on Dad’s friend Robert’s antique tractor. By the time he got back, I had smoked sausage coming off the grill, and Beth had made another big batch of Grandma’s German sweet rice. Chris was a little miffed that we hadn’t called to rescue him. He spent five hours total for a half-hour’s work.

I headed home about 22:30, glad that I had taken the truck even though I didn’t see any deer on the side of the road. Maybe I should be glad because I didn’t see any deer. You’re more likely to hit the ones you don’t see.

I’m Back

I’m so glad to have this guy hang around for a little while longer.

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for a while—neither writing nor doing much in the way of reading. I’m sorry. It’s been a couple of months where life just got in the way. So I thought it appropriate to resume this endeavor with Grateful Monday.

I have so much to be grateful for, and so much has happened since 22 May. I hope to back-post some of what has happened, not that I think anyone is all that interested. I just have a thing for completeness.

So here’s what I am grateful for:

• Dad is alive and well. He is going to keep farming for at least another year and has decided to buy a new tractor. All of that has been in question at one time or another since May.
• Suna’s position at the company with which she has been contracting seems secure. They may even bring her on as a real employee.
• My contract at the Fruit Company will end about a month earlier because I have accepted an offer to work there (albeit in another department) as a real employee. I’m looking forward to getting back into tech support training and working with some old friends.
• TrackGrease seems to have gotten married. I don’t think I was officially invited, but I am happy for him. And I’m proud of him. I don’t think I tell him that enough. I know I don’t call enough.
• TubaBoy has been getting ready to start his undergraduate education at Southwestern.
• Beccano is getting ready for his junior year of high school. He continues to play guitar really well. Getting better all the time.

That’s the short version.

Memorial Day Weekend

Edwin Starr asked the first question in today’s menu roughly 40 years ago. We’ve been arguing this question for as long as there have been people, and it will probably be argued long after humans have gone extinct.Photo source: B&S Online

Once again, I am posting Food for Thought late—and for the same reason: job business. That’s a good thing.

Since this is Memorial Day weekend, I’ve been thinking about service and sacrifice lately. Not the happiest of thoughts, but sometimes necessary. The first question was written by modern thinker and soul singer Edwin Starr.

Appetizer: War: what is it good for?

In a perfect world, I would agree with Starr’s answer. Unfortunately, we don’t live in a perfect world. It is occasionally necessary to fight, even to the death. It is not necessary anywhere near as often as we do it. War should be the diplomatic tool of last resort, not of first choice.

Soup: Whom do you honor on Memorial Day?

First, my son. Trackgrease volunteered to serve and stayed in the Reserves for eight years after he left active duty. My brother Edwin was a paratrooper during the Korean conflict. My brother Jim served in the Army during Viet Nam, luckily in Germany. My brother Bill, also served. My uncle Carol was in the Navy during WWII. My father tried to enlist but was turned away because he was unable to turn his wrist to the correct angle to “properly” hold a rifle—never mind that he could light a match with a bullet.

All of these survived their service.

Salad: Has there ever been a draft evader in your family?

My great grandfather came to the United States to avoid serving in the Kaiser’s army. Technically, I was a draft evader for 1o days. The law requiring us to register for the draft expired 10 days after my deadline for registration. A friend of mine went to register a couple of days before my deadline, and they just laughed at him for bothering. So I didn’t bother.

Entré: If so, do you support that decision?

Well, given the fact that I wouldn’t have been here if he had stayed in Germany, the self-serving answer is, “Of course I do!”

Dessert: Why do we continue to go to war?

The reasons for war are too numerous to list, but they always boil down to greed. Sometimes the greed is on both sides. Sometimes, only on one side.

I wish nations would follow the Taoist protocols, which have their parallels in most modern religions:

• Avoid rather than hurt.
• Hurt rather than maim.
• Maim rather than kill.
• Kill rather than be killed.

Music This Weekend

I don’t have a picture of Rebecca’s recital, but here she is conducting our choir a couple of weeks ago. We are so blessed to have her.Photo by John Phelps

There was a lot of music this weekend, starting with a rehearsal on Saturday morning at the church. Jan, Jo, and I ran through a rather drab piece called “Bittersweet.” J&J are big fans of playing what is written, and swing doesn’t really swing that way. Well, I wouldn’t really call “Bittersweet” swing. It’t more like someone who has never had the blues trying to transcribe a blues piece.

We performed this piece Sunday morning. Nobody died, but it was not my proudest moment as a musician. Luckily, we have a very kind congregation, and many of them were congratulatory. Jan was honest when she said that it had a few “rough spots.”

That afternoon the choir director gave a piano recital. She opened with “French Suite #2” by JS Bach, then moved on to Beethoven. She concluded with a Chopin piano concerto. (I lost the program, so these are mostly guesses based on a failing memory.) Rebbecca played really well and raised a little money for the Bill Sauber Memorial Fund, which supports music infrastructure at the church.

Finally, I went to jam with the new rock band I’m kinda playing with. It was our first practice with a new guitarist after the guy who asked me to join left. The singer was out of town, so the new guitarist and I faked our way through the songs we do. And I have to say we rocked. It was a great time, and I think will shape my mood for the week. I love playing loud and strong music with a deep pocket.

Although I wasn’t that into it at the time, I have come to think of Jailbreak as one of the best rock albums ever. Just driving, good-time music that’s as fun to play as it is to listen to.Photo source: Rock God Cred

If you can play rock music and stand still, you ain’t doing it right. If you do it right, it’s a fun way to get a decent cardiovascular workout.

So that’s what I’m grateful for this week: music, especially rock music. Give me a deep, throbbing bass line and a wall of sound. Give me a good drummer and a strong beat. That makes me too happy to stand still! Like the song says:

Roll me over and turn me around.

Let me keep spinnin’ ’till I hit the ground.

—Phil Lynott & Brian Downey

Makes You Stronger?

Kevin Sorbo played the title role in the 1990s TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys Photo source: Oak Leaf Collectibles

What doesn’t kill you:

• Makes you stronger
• Makes you wish it had

This set of questions derives from a comparison Howard Thurman made of humans to jack pines, a tree species that usually requires a forest fire to free its seeds from cones. From the destruction, a new stand of trees arises phoenix-like. So here we go.

Appetizer: What did you think of the Hercules TV series?

The 1960s cartoon series was one of my favorites. I watched it almost every morning before school on Channel 13. The 1990s live action series was OK. Not one of my favorites, but it had the advantage of airing adjacent to Xena: Warrior Princess.

Soup: Are you generally more optimistic or pessimistic?

I vacillate. I believe we have to take the bad with the good, so we might as well get the most out of it. I also believe we need negative experience to appreciate (or even comprehend) positive experience. Life is like a black and white photo; without contrast, everything is indistinguishable. So, I guess I have optimistic tendencies. I believe that everything always works out for the best—even if we can’t see it at the time. Regardless, it all contributes to who we are. If things happened differently, we would be different people.

I would much rather be writing about this guy, who watched me take a walk around campus at lunch the other day.

Salad: Which event in your life made you stronger or a better person for having survived it?

So many to choose from! Each one was incredibly painful and yet shaped who I am today. So, I’ll talk about the death of my brother Bill. It was traumatic for my family. He was younger than I am today, still in his prime. You don’t ever recover from that, but you can assimilate the experience, embrace the pain, and move forward.

Bill’s death shocked me out of my complacency. It freed me from a need to keep climbing the corporate ladder and pursue money and power. Until then I thought that if I just had more, I would be happier. I worked insane hours, and I neglected my family and my own health. There would be time in the future for happiness.

I awoke to the reality of my own mortality. I eventually left the corporate culture that was killing me. I took a job at a university to wind down. It paid barely enough to survive, but it was enough for awhile. A friend once asked me what I had planned for the day. I said I was going to hang out at the lake and then go into work. “Don’t you have chores?” she asked. I nodded. “The lake will be there tomorrow,” she chided. “But I might not be.”

I make more money than I did then, but I believe my work is about more than making money. While I still help big companies make more money, I also help the people who work for them do their jobs better. I know that in some cases, the training I designed has helped people keep their jobs and provide for their families. I have found a balance that I might not have found if my brother’s death hadn’t forced me to reassess what was important to me.

Entré: Given the choice, would you skip it if you had a “do over”?

I would rather have all of my siblings be alive and healthy and with me. I don’t know what the consequences of that might be. Perhaps I would have been the one to go first. I am also really annoyed at myself for writing this question. I don’t believe in “do overs.” We are who we are because of our experiences. Change the experiences and we change who we are.

Still, I miss Bill. And Edwin. And Mom.

Dammit! Now I’m all teary. Human beings aren’t a fire species. We’re just all fucked up, born to suffer. And we try to justify it by saying it makes us better. Even if it does, it still sucks.

Dessert: Does adversity build character or reveal it?

I believe adversity builds character only if the foundation is already there. But I also believe that we can go through our whole lives without knowing what we are capable of if nothing ever tests our mettle. Wouldn’t that be nice?