Ode to Captain EO

Michael Jackson reported dead, yesterday, June 25th...

My first exposure to him was through the Jackson Five. I was a kid in middle school, feeling all grown up, eating pizza at a tiny little pizza shack next to the movie theatre. I thought the music was snappy and that this kid fronting a whole family act had a lot going for him. As we both grew up, I came to admire him for some of the cutting edge work he did in video and stage presentation. Few artists caught our attention for flamboyant pizazz like Michael Jackson. Who else could create such a cult following? Elvis alone. I've always admired his ability to amp up the production value (admittedly sometimes over-the-top). The closest I ever came to a show of his was Captain EO in Disney World in 1987. That show did include impressive special effects, pyrotechnics, Muppet/puppet costuming, and blasting music--though MJ was only on screen.

In my opinion, all the weirdness that surrounds him is largely due to too much attention, too much media, and the burdens of celebrity. I have no idea if allegations against him were true, but I will always be fascinated with what he did on stage, even though I'm not a big fan of pop music. No matter what anyone may say, he will remain an American Icon for generations.

Blogging...what fer?

I am asked this all the time. I suppose this blog is not too exciting, not the drama that many people share. It's not heavy on political commentary or anything specific and there's not a lot of dialogue. So, why bother?

I ask my students to keep journals, so it's only fair they have access to my head/heart, too. Sometimes I like to post content that might be worth looking back at, and since I'm known to lose stuff, this is a good place for it. Besides, sometimes what I share helps my students, family and friends understand me better.

I keep more personal blogs and rants and such in other environs.

Blogging, outside of myself...well, some folks have an agenda to push, and a blog is just the place to pump out their propaganda. Others see it as a tool of enterprise, even companies and products have blogs. (Blogger has a blog.) I suppose the intent is to keep users, subscribers, fans, etc up-to-date and engaged. It's less bothersome than email.

I like to read subject oriented blogs, where people post pithy content on their areas of expertise. I personally think that this is one of the best things about the so-called web 2.0, where users can make the content, for so many everyday Joe's know so very much. That content knowledge can be very, very specific, too, like the guy who writes only about his Farmall tractors...or the young lady who documents her attempts at raising a giant pumpkin. I get a lot of good advice from parenting blogs, and I also get a sense of assurance that maybe I'm not so bad at being a dad. My favorite subject area at the moment tends toward futurists--crazy stuff is afoot!

Some blogs are just bleeding emo, especially over at xanga and myspace (if one considers those blogs). I get my fill of narcissistic, repetitive, goth drama high school blather very quickly.

I'm getting more and more into vlogs and podcasts, for they are convenient for me at work, where I can multi-task (listen as I tidy my office or check my other accounts, etc.) I like travel-blogs, too, for some folks are out there living the life I am too timid to, myself.

Above all, I enjoy reading blogs of people I thought I knew, that is, people with whom I have personal contact sometimes. Why? Because I get inside their heads; I get to know them on another level that seldom comes out in conversation, work, etc.

It's hard for me to remember life before blogs, and I've only been engaged in them two or three years!

Browncoats--STILL can't stop the signal!

I've made reference to the (short-lived, short-changed) TV series Firefly on more than one occasion at Musement Park. What a series! That show inspired an awesome film, Serenity!



I've downloaded the above to my iPod. I own the 11 episodes and movie on DVD. I regularly "convert" guests of our home to the whole 'verse as treated by Joss Whedon. I subscribe to the fansites, discussion groups, blogs, etc. that still (since 2002) thrive on the Juice of that brilliant creation.

I also have a wish list. I would like some shiny buttons reflecting all the catch phrases of the series/film. I'm also wanting to collect the Blue Sun travel posters of the series. (Those would go nicely in my re-engineered office environs!)

If anyone has yet to encounter these shows, drop everything. Walk out of work or discreetly download an episode when the boss isn't looking. That's all it will take. You'll join with the rest of us.

Covet -- can't get above it.

I resist my Covetous Nature, but it overwhelms me. I am guilty of coveting.

To covet is to desire, to yearn for, to wish for something, most especially "things" and in most applications, the things belonging to others. When I was steeped in the steeple, I fought the affliction with prayer and guilt trips (always, the guilt trips). I tried to find more worthy, more holy things to yearn for. Maybe that was the root of my vaulting ambition that led me to o'erleap all common sense and work so very hard to establish the best darn service program ever...I was trying so hard not to covet others' things but to instead build something worthy of coveting. Some people do that with cars, houses, body building, trophy spouses...so I guess I thought "the best darn service program ever" was a less-materialistic, less-bad thing to build up that others might covet it. (This, of course, is the alternate sin of Pride--they'll get you every time!)

I mention coveting, for lately I've had it BAD. Today, for instance, we went to the Big Tool store, or something like that, at K15 and 63rd in Derby. I wanted things on every aisle, practically every shelf--but I didn't have enough money to even buy a pop from vending machine for my kid. I visited a hardware store recently, and again, there was so much I could use, so much I yearned for--and couldn't ever afford. We go to garage sales and get stuff cheap (I found a $60 Carhart jacket for $2 recently) but even then, slumming through garage sales, I find myself coveting everyone's yards, garages, tools, outbuildings, landscaping...

Just writing this makes me feel evil and rotten and creepy crawly all over again, as if I'd just been rolling in the grass. (Around here, the grass is chock-full of ticks and fleas.)

I wish I could unplug my obsessive covetousness. I'd like to think it would go away if I suddenly were independently wealthy. Nahhh. Maybe a lobotomy? Maybe a crash of the economy? Nope--I'm sure I'd still be wanting someone's milk churn or chicken eggs or ammunition bunker.

How does one become content instead of covetous?

All Decked Out

I'm going to build a deck.

With the meager surplus of funds I'm squirreling away, I'm going to build both a deck and a playground. These two projects give me tremendous release of creativity and tension. I am able to fiddle and fidget and research. I am able to apply myself to something that is sure to be uniquely "me," and at the same time, I'm making something for others to enjoy, too. I get to work outside, with my hands, and I get to make something that will last and add value to my house--all at the same time!

At times deck dreams distract me. I lounge around flipping through deck magazines like some folks do porno. I sometimes get depressed, knowing I'll never have resources for some of those decks; other times I think that even some of the more complicated ones are just not very creative. Again, I am eager to strut my stuff with a deck design that fits my vision.

One plan I have not let go of is to build decking/boardwalk around the windmill tower in our back yard. Talk about a water element! If I can pull that off, maybe with some strategic sunflower plantings around it--well, put me on the garden show list, baby!

Of course, I'd like to build it out of composite material, or better yet cedar, but I just don't know if I'd ever have the cash to finish such a thing. Maybe I will engineer a deck design that can be done in phases, as the money comes in. (?)

I want room for the boys or my friends to come over for a drum circle. I want room for the Clan that lives/visits to have space for parties of any occasion. I'd like to have the deck be a springboard to All-Things-Out-Back. (When I smoked, I always fantasized about kicking back and puffing away on a lounge chair on my deck.) These days, with my new grill, I want to be out back grilling regularly (at least weekly). I'm looking into a fire pit,built in, and maybe even a pseudo sink. Then again, I'd like some kind of pergola or arbor or some structure for honey suckle. Of course, I'd like to have an attached gazebo with hot tub, but that will have to wait so long I'll likely have to be wheeled out to it by some nurse or something.

All these grand ideas--but I could do with a 4x8 chunk of plywood out the back door, even a patio slab. I just am aching to get out back, rather than deal with the annoying road noise and prying eyes of passers-by out in the front yard.

Anyway, as things progress, I'll provide progress reports.

Responsibility

The responsibility of 11 acres is heavy. The man who sold the property claimed he just "couldn't keep up with the place anymore." He was maybe in his early 60's. I'm in my late 40's, and whew--I understand where he's coming from!

On the other hand, I don't think I'll ever let it wear on me. I look at the responsibility of The Land as a true blessing, a gift. I do not know why it means so much to me, but it does.

Someone claimed I was breeding kids just so I'd have someone to take care of the place...the truth is, well, I just love having kids in my life. I am enlightened by them, amused by them, inspired by them--I could go on and on.

Of course, they are my greatest responsibility, and like The Land, they are a welcome one, a godsend!

Then there's my job, as recently referenced. I love my job. It's probably pretty petty in the big picture, compared to Rocket Science or something, but it gives me Juice...and I still get a charge out of helping people improve in their writing. Some folk just "do" their job. I think, during the school year anyway, I "am" my job.

This whole topic is just bizarre; not even ten years ago I was gunshy of any form of responsibility.

I don't know what accounts for the about-face, but I'm pleased w/myself!

Perpetuum Jazzile cover of "Africa"

One highlight of my years at Cowley...one very hot August day when the Brown Center (a large 700 seat auditorium) opened, without air conditioning, the entire freshman class was required to attend orientation. I had the misfortune of being chosen to "warm up" the audience. Not knowing what else to do, I led them in creating a rain storm. Watch the video below, imagine it amplified by 400 more participants. It still gives me the goose bumps to reflect on that moment.



Otherwise, it's a fun tune to resurrect, eh?

What was that, again?

My memory fails me.
Oh, I can do well with song lyrics and jingles, with images and dreams, but when it comes to early memories, Elvis has left the building!

My high school classmates were writing about an 8th grade outing we took. They referred to me, to some embarrassing antics that I have no recollection of. It is as if someone else lived my childhood.

It is the same with many events of my life which I have repressed--done so very well that it's almost impossible (even with snapshots to prompt me) to recall some of the less-than-stellar moments of my life.

Even more sad, I have a hard time remembering lots of recent events in any detail.

I have never been a detail-oriented person; I seldom can tell you the cast, author, title, ball player, etc. (My brother, on the other hand, is Rainman!)

I try to write down special things to remember, and thankfully my wife is a shutterbug, so we get photographic documentation of lots of things in our lives...but having it recorded externally is not so great as a Memory.

I've even been to workshops, read books, listened to CD's and tapes on memory--but none of the techniques have really been sticking.

I worry sometimes that I'm defective.

At least I compensate by trying to be a pleasant person getting the most out of now.

Just don't ask me about it next week.

Camping!

Tonight, at long last, my boys and I go camping. It's no big deal, just pitching a tent in the yard, but it's big to them, and thus, it's important to me. I'm writing now, in anticipation of the event, for I am investing all the good vibes into it that I can, in advance.

We will likely have funny struggles setting up the tent. I'm sure we'll screw it up a time or two, even though it's a simple dome/pole jobbie. We won't be any more crowded than we are in our own bed, so that won't be an issue, and we're even taking an air mattress out, so we should be downright cozy. I doubt we'll get the 2 year old to spend the night w/us, for he's a momma's boy, but we may get him inside it a while.

I did not think last year's camp made any impression on the then-two-year-old, Carson, but he's been talking a lot about it lately! One point he brings up repeatedly is that he was trapped inside the tent the following morning. I had to run in the house, so I zipped the tent to keep the bugs out...I did not know the boys could not figure out how to get out, so I was shocked when I returned w/breakfast to hear them both screaming bloody murder! (They do not like being confined!) We put a blanket out for the beagle, Roger, at the door last year, and Carson said we should do that again, so Roger can protect us from coyotes and bears.

We may get really nervy and camp down by our fire pit, which is a good 300 yards or more from the house, off in the dark, in the woods a ways. That would be fun, but I don't know if the boys are brave and bold enough for that (spooky) spot just yet.

I know we'll make memories, and I hope they will be lasting, positive ones. Camping is one tradition my folks never, ever participated in, and I hope to someday make it a staple for my tribe. (We bought a HUGE tent that will hold our whole crew, so I hope to make use of it.)

We'll likely cook smores or hot dogs; we'll likely tell more stories and lies than usual, since I'll have them pried away from the television. We'll surely be cuddled from the cold (well, low 50's isn't cold, but it will feel a bit like it, I'm sure).

I can hardly wait!

UPDATE: Yes, it went very well--we left the tent up a couple days so they could knock around in it. The worst was that one pesky misquito that always seems to get inside the tent!

Salvation Yard

Some call them junk yards or salvage yards--to me they are so much more. We had one right across the road from our farm house, an old in-ground silo that would be filled w/trash and burned annually. One of my best childhood activities was to rummage around in the trash and make treasure of it. I did not need toys, for I was able to recycle an old steering wheel into a ship's wheel; reuse an abandoned dryer as a space shuttle; rethink the utility of everything from jam jars to tin cans. My dogs and I also hunted there, scaring out mice, rats, ground squirrels, rabbits and badgers...once even a skunk.

I think the junk yard enhanced my young imagination more than television, film or books.

I remember in high school, while we were all grappling for career direction, I thought I had found mine: to operate a salvage yard! I was a motorhead, and once I went Beyond the Fence with a worker at a salvage yard to hunt for hubcaps or something. It was Dodge City, 1977. I was thrilled to ride with him in a vehicle they had thrown together from junked cars. It had no doors, no glass. The seats did not match. He had ink pens stuck in the dashboard (his pen holder) and an open container in what was once an ash tray. It was more like a dune buggy than a car, and it made a lasting impression on me. All I ever wanted was to rummage around in a junk yard, finding new use for old stuff...

...but the world is cruel to a teenager, and I eventually had to let that dream go.

Well, sort of. I continue to cling to trash. We bought a place with a substantial junk pile in back (well hidden behind a grove of trees, far from the house, behind a barbed wire fence)...and I regularly have to defend its value. I can find something from what others see as nothing--any time! They see a stack of junk tires, I see a planter for potatoes. They see scrap tin, I see sheeting for a goat shelter.

Some would claim I have even more than this in common with Oscar the Grouch.

Break Doldrums Hit At Last

Maybe it was the new baby, the summer class, the extra folk in the household, the garden or the tractor-related issues...but something has changed. (Maybe it's the fact that this is June 1st and I can feel my break ebbing away already.)

I AM FEELING BUMMED OUT. That's right, I got the blues. I think that regimen I referenced last month is too slow in coming. Maybe I'd better revisit my own blog entries!

I made a list just now, as I've learned to do for breaks to make them matter. I know myself well enough to know (even though I don't like this about myself) that I need a sense of accomplishment, that I need things to do. If I haven't, I get gray. I wish I could just be...just hang in a hammock or play w/the kids w/out any drive or determination for anything.

I've yet to learn how.