HIGH SCHOOL MUSIC

Last night we went to a jazz concert over at the local high school. We haven’t been to one of those functions since my youngest daughter was in school and although she wasn’t in the jazz band she was in several of the other bands and we attended a lot of concerts and shows. This year our nephew, a junior at the school, is extremely active in the music program. He’s in chorus, concert band, marching band and jazz band. There may even be some other peripheral groups that he’s involved in but I can’t be sure about that. He’s a gifted young musician and has a great deal of possibility for a future in that field.

I’m a fan of high school music. The marching band impresses me. The concert bands amaze me. The jazz band, choral groups and ensemble players all give me hope for some of the young people in our communities. We happen to be blessed with strong music programs here in the center of the state. Hundreds of kids are involved and they do some really outstanding things. If you’ve ever tried to learn an instrument and play in a group then you know the amount of hard work that is involved. And to attain the level of excellence that a large number of these young people reach goes well beyond a little hard work. These kids are dedicated and maybe even a little bit obsessed. But they do have fun and it shows when they put on a program.

The program last night consisted of the moderately skilled jazz band, the very skilled jazz chorus, and the “A” level, almost professional sounding, big band. They all tackle complex pieces of music that demand precision and virtuosity. There are solo parts and parts where a particular section will be featured. Sometimes the solos are a little weak, showing perhaps a lot of nervousness or maybe not too high a degree of maturity. But at other times, as when our nephew soloed on clarinet or when a young woman carried an entire song on alto sax, these kids can just knock you out with what they’ve learned. Over the years there have always been students who excelled at music and pursued careers related to the arts. More often the discipline and focus that the somewhat less talented young people learned in the music programs carried over into their school work and they went on to college and became successful in other fields. Our daughter is an example of that group. She was a good musician but she became a better mathematician. So school band and other musical groups, far from being the joke spurring activities portrayed in many bad comedy movies, is a positive and extremely worthwhile thing for most participants.

When the budget cuts come to school districts, as they have in the past and will again, the inclination is to eliminate the arts programs first and then to go after sports. I feel that when cuts need to happen they should start with sports first. Actually cuts should start with eliminating some of the levels of administration before they ever move on to programs that actually help the kids. But that’s just a fantasy. Back to the point, sports while valuable in many ways, helps fewer students than the music programs. In a school with twelve hundred or so students an expensive football program, for example, may help a maximum of fifty or sixty boys and a dozen cheerleading girls. A marching band can help three times that number. And even without football games to play at during half times a marching band can take part in competitions and parades. When my daughter was in band we had numerous fund raising events and the band parents organization tended to cover a great deal of the costs of the band. I’m sure that continues to be true today. When all the other music programs are added to the marching band there are about three hundred kids involved. That is one quarter of our school’s students and it could be more if some of the sports programs weren’t available. In an ideal world the sports and arts programs would be allowed to continue. We are fortunate in our area because the voting public tends to support a complete school program with the aim of having excellent schools. Other places have made some hard, and unfortunate, choices and the quality of their schools has suffered a great deal because of those choices. We hope that that won’t be necessary here in our area.

So that’s my preaching about the arts in our high schools, and it’s all because I like to listen to young people doing their best to make some good music. Support the arts in education. I’ll be glad that you did.

Have a fine day.

MEMORIAL DAY MUSINGS

It bothers me that businesses put up signs saying “Happy Memorial Day”. This particular holiday is not supposed to be one of light hearted frivolity but of solemn remembrance. It’s alright if we use it to mark the beginning of the summer season but we can still reduce the implications of celebration a little bit. And I’m sure there will be no reduction in “Memorial Day” sales events just because I’m a little bit annoyed. But there should be.

Over the past weekend those young men, and some young women, were out on their “crotch-rocket” motorcycles and in their souped-up, whiny little Asian cars. Being the old and curmudgeonly guy I am you can probably guess that I hate those darn things. A thousand Harleys with aging biker guys and their chicks on board don’t irritate me like a little pack of those motorcycle riders on Suzuki’s racing up the highway in the middle of the night. When I see them all wrapped up in their colorful clothes and helmets, with matching backpacks, racing off from a red light, lifting up on their rear wheels and mindlessly zipping in and out of rows of traffic I wish for a little machine gun or grenade launcher mounted on the front of my hood, so that I could blow those creatures right off the road. The noise they make and the dangerous stunts they pull on the road far surpass the crap we did back in high school. The almost weekly fatalities on those bikes and in those cars attest to either more idiots on the road or the evidence of more dumbing down of our educational system. By the way, what actually is in all those back packs those people always seem to have strapped on their bodies?

We had a nice crowd of relatives here in town over the past few days. A baby shower for my youngest daughter was the excuse for the gathering and it was a good one. The ladies and girls had their shower. Some of the guys had a round of golf. Several of us got to visit the casino for a while. And the kids had the opportunity to run around, jump in the wading pool and generally have a good old time. Out of town guests were divided between my brother’s large and spacious home and our little bungalow. He had all the little kids except when they came to our house for pool and play times. It was a fun weekend, un-marred by family squabbles or serious injury. That’s rare for our crowd although as we age it seems to be the more common trend. I guess we’re losing that extra spark of contentiousness that we had in our younger days. And I don’t see the next generation exhibiting much of a feisty streak. It’s a shame to see such a time honored tradition fading away. Maybe at the next gathering I’ll get all drunked up and stupid and punch out one of my brothers for old time’s sake and to set an example for the youngsters. Or maybe I won’t.

NASCAR is rolling into town again for the first race event of the two we have here each year. I noticed this morning when I was going to the grocery store a whole mess of RV and camper traffic heading up towards the track. And in the store there were people decked out in their souvenir Earnhardt t-shirts buying large amounts of soda and snack foods, along with big packages of hot dogs and hamburger meat. In years past it seemed that steaks and ribs were piled into the shopping carts. It must be a sign of the hard economic times. I know the race promoters are worried about reduced spending both in ticket sales and all the other junk that the fans usually buy. Maybe they should consider spicing up the race events to draw additional new attendees. A death match of some sort might be a draw. Or maybe an all nude, women driver night time race would help. The ladies would have to race in convertibles though to make it more “visible”. Even though I’m not a big race fan I’d hate to see the area lose that attraction. It helps out the local economy and reduces the need for a higher tax rate. But with the new administration in our state government I’m sure they’ll find a way to make it more difficult to keep NASCAR coming to town. It will probably be in the area of ecological impact or perhaps in higher costs for vendor permits that the government will stick its meddling fingers and cause a problem. We can never underestimate the driving greed and power playing of our politicians.

Okay, I’ve had my say for this morning. It’s time to address my household chores so that I can continue to be a stay at home geezer.

Have a fine day.

INNER LIFE

Okay it’s time for some pretentious philosophizing from a shallow thinker and a guy who can waffle with the best of them. It all began with a few simple conversations with a few good folks. Some of these folks were considering or, at least had considered at one time or another, the big questions of life. A couple of other folks that I talked with really had never much considered any big questions nor were they interested in pursuing them at any time in the future. These non-considering types tended to think on a pretty narrow plane. They think about their next meal, their 401k plan, sports, TV shows and personalities and sex. And they don’t think about those subjects in any metaphysical way. The considering type of individuals were more individualistic. They have thoughts about life, death, religion, good and evil, right and wrong and sex. These people have questioned their place in the Universe. They have thought about spirituality and its necessity. They have read a book or two. They have paid attention to nature and the phases of existence. They have an Inner Life.

And some of the people who have an Inner Life are really simple and plain thinking folks. They have looked at some of life’s questions and made some decisions based on a minimum amount of study and then made various leaps of faith, which are willful acts. Others have studied long and hard, read the works of great thinkers, looked for real source documents and considered historical evidence and cogitated and meditated for many years. And some of those studious folks have ended up right where the simpler thinkers have arrived. But some haven’t.

It seems to me that people with an Inner Life are more interesting. They certainly seem to have more to talk about and when they discuss mundane and worldly things they usually bring more to the conversation. They can discuss the merits of a TV show with more to offer than the relative “hotness” of the male or female stars. A book or movie is a subject that can be viewed on more than one level. Politics can be discussed, or even argued, with the consideration of moral or immoral actions in the functioning of government and the people that are government functionaries.

There are some highly religious people who don’t really have an Inner Life. Those people arrived at their faith through some process that didn’t involve a lot of thought or questioning. Sometimes people who did go through a spiritual process reach a point where they choose to abandon their thought processes and give themselves up to repetitions of slogans and the exercise of ritual devoid of meaning or reason. Those people sometimes are the most dangerous of true believers because they might follow a leader or cause which they have failed to consider in light of its morality or sanity. In a sense I would rather there be a whole lot of folks who never bothered with anything approaching an Inner Life than one person who abandoned that Inner Life for unquestioning fervor.

So, what’s my point here, you ask? My point is that these are times that require all of us to be thoughtful and mentally active in the pursuit of the truth (with a capital T). Consider the big questions. Does my life mean something? Am I contributing to a better family, work place, town, state, country or world? Should I be concerned about the nature of Nature, the Spirit of spirituality or the Essence of existence? You get the idea, I’m sure. Be more than a fan of CSI or American Idol. Be more than a receiver and sender of mindless text messages. Be someone who has a vigorous and ongoing Inner Life.

Have a fine day.

THE GIBSON BROTHERS: RING THE BELL a review

The mailman brought the latest CD from The Gibson Brothers today, “Ring The Bell” on Compass Records. I’ve listened to it several times and decided I’d write a review for my blog. I wanted to write an objective and critical piece which is difficult because I’m such a fan of theirs and also I just like the guys on a personal basis. Fortunately the album is so darn good that critical objectivity can meld with my fan like feelings. This is an excellent album with some of the best original songs and some of the finest songs written by other artists that the band has ever recorded.

The Gibson Brothers now, definitively, have their own sound. It has emerged and been honed and refined over the last five albums. The opening notes of any of their songs are clearly identifiable as being theirs. The harmonies, instrumentation and pace of their music are distinct and different from any other band. Maturity that retains a sense of freshness is the hallmark of this group of songs. It’s a keeper, for sure.

The opening notes of the first track, “I Know Whose Tears”, a Joe Newberry song, grab the listener with Clayton Campbell’s dissonant mournful fiddle. It’s a beautifully crafted song captured and delivered with the drive that is found in Gibson Brothers live performances. Another Newberry song, “Jericho” is on track seven and it too fits the band perfectly. Other songs by other artists, “The Wishing Well” by Shaun Camp and Paul Kennerly, “Angel Dream” by Tom Petty and “Just An Old Rounder” by Marshall Warwick all get the Gibson treatment with excellent results. And the title track “Ring The Bell” by Chris O’Keefe is a masterpiece of Bluegrass Gospel. Drive is a word that I overuse in describing Gibson Bothers playing. Even the softest most sentimental ballad has an edge and forward motion that sticks in the listener’s brain and becomes background music playing in his brain days later.

The songs written by Eric and Leigh Gibson also show that the brothers are at the top of their game. “I Can’t Like Myself”, “What Can I Do”, “Forever Has No End” and “That’s What I Get For Lovin’ You” are all collaborative tunes from both brothers, with help from Mike Barber and Joe Walsh on the first song and Bob DiPiero on the second , and are all strong and suitable for release as a single. “Forever Has No End” with its lilting melody and clean, clear harmony is particularly pleasing. Two songs are real standout pieces of “North Country” music and they each have an agricultural theme. “Farm Of Yesterday” by Eric is so personal and heartfelt a song, both in its lyrics and in the voices of the singers, that it does something that recorded music rarely accomplishes and that is it delivers a real emotional impact that actually affects the listener. “Bottomland” by Leigh has a similar effect. It’s easy to hear the truth (with a capital T) in those songs. These songwriters don’t just bang out some words and melodies. They write thoughtful and real poetry and bring it to the music so that both parts are perfectly wedded. They aren’t afraid of quiet space in their phrasing and they know exactly how to kick things up to get the listener’s attention. It’s some powerful work they do.

The Gibson Brothers band is stronger than ever. I loved former mandolinist Rick Hayes who played with the band for some time, but his style always seemed a bit laid back for this group. New mandolin player, Joe Walsh, plays with the same edge and drive (there’s that word again) that all the other players in the group have. Clayton Campbell on fiddle is impeccable, Mike Barber pushes the beat and plays stand up bass with the very best in the business and Leigh and Eric are as accomplished on their instruments as they are with their voices, and they are extremely accomplished with their voices. Two guest musicians, Mike Witcher on resonator guitar throughout the album and Erick Jaskowiak on percussion on track eight, add some nice touches.

This is a truly fine album and a suitable follow up to “Iron and Diamonds” the brothers previous number one outing. Do I have any complaints? Only one and that is about packaging. I miss the liner notes that graced the previous few albums. How’s that for nit-picking? So go out and buy this album. If you’re not a bluegrass fan now you will be after hearing these guys. If you are a fan you’ll see how well The Gibson Brothers band represents bluegrass music to the world. It is good music played right.

Have a fine day.

GENES

I just found out that I’m a direct descendant, through my paternal grandmother, of a guy named Daniel LeBlanc. That name isn’t one that you’d recognize from your history books but his boss is fairly recognizable. His boss came to North America in the 1600’s and has had some places named after him. Some of the places I think he named after himself, Samuel Champlain. So I’m a descendant of a man who walked and canoed around the area known as Acadia with the great explorer credited with “discovering”, for France, a whole section of the continent.

Last year I did a brief family history but my genealogical search wasn’t terribly thorough and I only looked back about five generations. Now I have some information that goes back eleven generations, almost four hundred years. That puts us with all those folks who find it so prestigious to be Mayflower descendants. Apparently there are societies and clubs of people who positively relish the idea of having ancestors who were early settlers on this continent. And it is kind of cool. My ancestor was helping old Champlain check out the land, trade with the Native Americans (and maybe doing a little subjugating too) and studying the feasibility of a colony for dear old France. They probably didn’t call it a feasibility study in those days. That ancestor, old Danny LeBlanc, decided he needed a wife here if he was going to hang around so he married a lovely young girl named Francoise Gaudet in 1650 in Acadia. Then there followed the usual course of events with names like Hebert, Boudrot, Dugas, Galarneau, Leduc and eventually Bourey thrown in the mix making babies and progressing down the halls of time.

I have no idea what kind of job that distant ancestor had when he was working for Monsieur Champlain. We’ve had some carpenters in our past, and loggers. There have been postmen, miners and factory workers too. Many of my forbearers were skilled in hunting and fishing so maybe old Dan was a trapper or food supply specialist for the expedition and the colonies that followed. I don’t think occupations are genetically inherited but a predilection to some kind of work might be hidden in there somewhere. I think they call that genetic memory, or something. One thing is apparent. Daniel LeBlanc must have been an adventurer and a rugged sort of man. Living and working in the New World was no easy task all those years ago. Food and shelter were a real and not always assured concern. Disease could wipe out a colony in a matter of months. Conflicts between the natives and the settlers and then between the French and the English were a constant threat to a person’s survival. It was a tough life, even for those in higher positions in their society. I wonder how far our family members have drifted from the rugged independence of our ancestors.

So I thank Ms. Julie Dowd of Clinton County, NY who provided today’s revelation. She gave me some interesting things to think about and some inspiration to do a little more research into the old family tree. Now I think I’m going to grab my fishing pole and see if I can catch some subsistence for our dinner table, in the manner of my ancestor Daniel LeBlanc.
Have a fine day.

BIRDS AND OTHER WILDLIFE

BIRDS AND OTHER WILDLIFE May 4, 2009

In our backyards we like to set up bird feeders and then we keep a little log book of the different species that stop in for a meal. It’s interesting to see the different types that come to the feeders both here and at our place up North. We get some of the same at both places but there are some here that don’t show up near the river and vice versa. I could go into a detailed bird watcher lecture here but I won’t because it would be boring to write and even more boring to read.

If you have bird feeders then of course you also get the other critters that like to eat the food that falls onto the ground. Squirrels and rabbits are the most common. And the stinking squirrels will find ways to get right up on the feeders and pig out on the grain supply. I’m always trying to find ways to keep the squirrel noshing at a minimum. And to the consternation of the neighborhood animal lovers I have even resorted to the “Red Ryder” method when they get a little too aggressive. I may have even put out an eye or two with that method. Squirrels are not my favorite animal. Chipmunks I can tolerate, mainly because of my wife’s affection for them. But their bushy tailed little cousins are too numerous and annoying.

A couple summers ago we had an accidental solution to the proliferation of squirrels in the back yard. We had set up a little plastic swimming pool for our grandson. It was one of those inflate the top rim type and then put the water in to make the thing rise up and get full. It had a filter and required a bit of maintenance, but it wasn’t too bad. We hadn’t had it up too long before I discovered that the squirrels like getting into the pool. Unfortunately for them they couldn’t figure out how to get out. I found the first victim of kiddie pool drowning early one morning floating face down in the clear blue water. I scooped him (or her, I didn’t check) out, drained the pool and gave it a good cleaning and then refilled it. A few days later after the grandson had had a weekend using the pool I went out early on a Monday morning and found two more little gray bodies floating in the water. I repeated the scoop, drain, clean and refill procedure and buried the two bodies in my new little wildlife cemetery. For the next several days I noticed that the bird feed was lasting longer although there were plenty of birds around. It seemed the diminishing squirrel population was working out just fine. The water bill might be higher but the bird food bill would go down. I thought that was a fair trade.

There were no bodies in the little pool for a couple of weeks. Maybe even squirrels had the ability to learn from their mistakes. But then on a Saturday morning, quite early, I went out in the yard and discovered five bodies floating on the water. How all five of the little dummies had managed to drown really puzzled me. You’d think that at least one of them would have climbed on the backs of a couple others and made the leap to safety. But no, there they were, five drowned tree rats. When I reported the delightful disaster to my wife she was appalled. She doesn’t like squirrels all that much but the high level of carnage upset her. She decided that we would get some kind of cover for the pool or, if we couldn’t find one of those, we would float a little life raft in there so the squirrels could save themselves until I noticed them and set them back on dry land. So I scooped out the five bodies, buried them, drained the pool, gave it a thorough cleaning with soap and bleach and then refilled it again.

We didn’t find a cover for the pool so we floated a Styrofoam mini surfboard in the water all the time, as a rescue platform for any animals that might get into the water and have trouble getting out. The summer passed. The bird seed was doing its job and we saw lots of different birds. The trees were much quieter now that eight squirrels were pushing up daisies in the cemetery. We went away for a few days shortly after Labor Day and since it was still quite warm out I hadn’t taken the pool down. When we got back from our trip I went to the pool and was surprised to find two squirrels on the little surfboard. Unfortunately they were both dead, on their backs with their little feet sticking up in the air. They were very, very thin so I figure they must have starved to death. If only they had learned to paddle that surfboard they would have made it to the edge of the pool and been able to jump out and get some chow.

Well, I took that pool down and bagged it up for the trash men. The following summer I got a different type of kid’s pool, the kind with a metal side wall. The squirrels either suffered a population decline or evolved some sense of pool aversion because we didn’t have any drowned critters at all. I had to go back to the other methods of keeping the squirrels out of the bird seed. But they aren’t nearly as effective as that little swimming pool was during the summer of floating tree rats.

By the way, this morning my wife saw a big old Red Tailed Hawk hanging around the bird feeders. There were no squirrels in sight. I’m going to try and figure out a way to keep that big bird coming back. Either that or I’m getting another one of those pools again this summer.

Have a fine day.