Going To A DANCE

Sometimes people ask (well, someone did; once), “What does the name of your blog mean, ‘About Pops’”?

It sort of has to do with a stage of life, what I call the second-coming-of-age and all that comes with it, stuff like: looming retirement, senior adulthood, your body committing mutiny. But, then there is the glorius side of it all, being a grandfather, or as I’m known to my Grand-Girls, “Pops”.

This Saturday morning is a very exciting for a Pops like me. I’m going to my first dance recital. While I am excited, I’m also a bit anxious. You see I grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition where evangelist warned that Jesus would almost certainly return during a dance at Teen Town. “Is that where you want to be when The King Comes!?” And in my 13 year-old brain I’m thinking “As opposed to…?” (More than likely I’m thinking how does he get his hair to stay all puffed up in that big hairdo?”)

Looking back, I think I wouldn’t have minded at all if Jesus had come back during a school dance. I think he would have enjoyed it. In fact, I think even the full-time evangelist would have had a good time if he could have chiseled through all the pomade keeping his pompadour in place and let his hair down.

Today’s recital stars our oldest Grand-Girl, Karlee. I think maybe there will be other little dancers there too.

Thats Karlee, on the left. Today she will be the star!

If you have a problem with me unbashedly bragging on her, in the words of Steve Martin: “Well, exxxxuuuussssee me!!!”

You see this tiny dancer is the one who made me POPS. She has patiently turned me in to a dewy-eyed, sentimental, very proud, old man.

I am so grateful that she can dance without shame. That she can know the joy, the freedom, the beauty of being a little artist. 

I could go on and on and on, but I have a dance to go to. And, if Jesus were to be ready, I think he would really enjoy this, because the children will be dancing.

Time To Trade: Vespa for a Yamaha

SOMETIMES IT'S ABOUT PURE JOY. A few years back, like so many aging guys, I heard the call of the wild side of the open road. Maybe it was subliminal residue from watching the movie Easy Rider at an impressionable age, but whatever it was, I answered.

Whereas most old guys go for a Harley Davidson® as their bike of choice, trying to convince the world and themselves they are bada$$; for me, it was a Vespa® that I could picture myself riding. I'm not sure what message I was trying to send. The only time anyone ever says, "Nice ride!" is when I scoot my scooter to Whole Foods® to shop.

Don't under estimate the thrill of a Vespa® ride. Sure, you're not going to ride into a town dressed in black leather and scare anyone. You're not going to intimidate "baptists" from Wichita who've driven down to protest at funerals. But you will have fun.

As you can tell from this photo, the Grand-Girls and I love the Vespa! But, alas, they are a part of the reason that I've decided to sell it. Yes. It is for sale. It could be yours. You might say I want to trade the Vespa® for a Yamaha®.

So, what do the Grand-Girls have to do with my decision to sell my scooter? Music.

I wish that everyone could experience music on a deeper level than just playing the radio. I wish every kid could try their hand at playing an instrument, or singing, or dancing. My parents started me in accordion lessons when I was five and I am so grateful. And while I didn't play the accordion for long, I have been involved in instrumental music all of my life.

So, what does a Vespa have to do with music? A Yamaha®. A Yamaha® piano

I want to buy my Grand-Girls a piano, so I'm selling the Vespa® to get the cash, because the music store won't take my Vespa® in on trade.

As I said, sometimes it about pure joy. While I have had a great time on the Vespa®, I have no doubt that it will bring considerable joy to watch the girls fall in love with music and to listen to them play. 

If you read my last post about Mr. Holland's Opus and Scuffy the Tugboat. This is sort of a personal application of all that. For me, at sixty-something, it's probably not the safest thing to be riding a Vespa® on the streets of OKC--sort of like Scuffy on the ocean with the big boats. So while I have loved the adventure of it all, I can do this: something more age-appropriate and hopefully encourage the love of music for the girls.

So--I have a scooter for sale. It has less than 1,000 miles and has been meticulously cared for. Asking price: $3800. If you're interested, email me: hey.pops.hey@gmail.com

A One And A Two

In 1955, a popular local Los Angeles TV show, was picked up by ABC and swept the nation. You can still see it in reruns every Saturday evening. The star of the show was a Ukranian-born German named Lawrence. Little Larry's family migrated to the U.S. when he was a wee lad. Dirt poor farmers, the Welks struggled for food and shelter. At some point, according to the lore, Lawrence asked his dad to buy him a mail-order accordion. In exchange for this extravagance, Lawrence promised to work diligently on the family farm until his 21st birthday.

Lawrence Welk

And, as so many have done throughout history, sacrifices were made because people understand the arts are worth it--we need music, we need poetry, we need art and design and beauty.

When I was 5 years old, however, I didn't see it that way.

I remember it like it was yesterday: I was with friends, hiding in the bushes in front of our house on South Owasso Ave. Our plan was to throw pebbles at passing cars. A couple of issues became quickly apparent: 1. Very few cars passed on our street; 2. The distance between our hideout and the street exceeded the length of our best throw.

Finally, here came a car and we gave it our best shot, which fell way short, but the strange car stopped; right in front of our house. Yikes! It paused, then pulled into our drive way. A man I had never seen before got out, opened his trunk, pulled out a suitcase and carried it to our front door. (Oh, the curse of a fertile imagination.) I watched from the seclusion of the bushes while he knocked on our door. I heard my mother invite him in.

Anxious moments passed and I heard my father call my name. I walked into the house expecting the worst. It was worse than I imagined. I walked it and noticed In the man's open suitcase was a shiny little accordion. I was being signed up for accordion lessons.

Dang you Lawrence Welk.

I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that accordion sales soared during the early years of the Lawrence Welk Show. I also don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that like Lawrence's family, my accordion and lessons were probably a big sacrifice for my parents. Did they envision that I would some day be the leader of my own polka band?

I did learn to play the accordion well enough to make my family proud when I played "The Little Indian Dance" in a recital with other young Lawrence Welks. I also learned, although it didn't occur to me until years later, that I loved music, I loved being a musician, that music is worth sacrifice. Thanks Mom & Dad.

Gratefully, our two sons love music. Both are skilled drummers. Yes we spent money on drums and lessons at a level some would call excessive. It was worth every penny. My Amazing-Missus and I have always agreed on this. She grew up in a music-loving family. Her mother was a wonderful pianist and made sure her daughter learned to play as well. Her twin brother married a very talented musician and their son is a gifted trumpet player in a world class band, just home from a concert at Carnegie Hall in NYC. Last night we had the privilege of hearing him play once again with his jazz band. (There's nothing better than live jazz.)

Now; the Grand-Girls. I am so grateful that their parents allow us to be involved in their lives. I hope we never take advantage or take it for granted. Since the girls were tiny, they've been in a program called, "KinderMusik." It is wonderful and it has been fun to participate with them from time to time.

Harper & Pops at KinderMusik

One of the greatest joys for me as Pops is watching the next generation grow to love music.

Thank you Lawrence Welk... and Mrs. Kaylor, and Aunt Betty Brady, and Betty Cox, and Mr. Churchill, and Tom Durham, and James Keyes, and Miss Conchita. 

Gaps & Glimpses

Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on, across the universe
Jai Guru Deva OM

The only hymn-singing tradition that I'm fully aware of is that of Southern Baptist churches and I've experienced it across the full spectrum for over 60 years: from little country churches where a volunteer leads the singing while standing next to an old upright piano, tuned close enough to recognize the song and off just enough to make it somehow genuinely old-fashioned; to the highest of high worship, as defined by baptists.

One of the common traits of this hymn-singing tradition is the skipping of the third verse. "Turn in your hymnals to number 241 and let's sing the first, second and fourth verses."

Why? I have no idea. "That's the way we've always done it."

It seems like for me these days, if I am moving toward what might be called spiritual maturity, I'm kind of like filling in the gaps--gaps left by skipping third verses, or certain hard to grasp passages of scripture, or seeing dinosaurs as something bigger than the plastic toys you buy at Toys R Us. 

Oh there will always be gaps and I'm good with that. In fact, I love the mystery and wonder of a divine plan than passes our understanding. These days I'm grateful for the glimpses we get of how things might be designed, what the creativity of a loving God might be like, what's in the gaps. So that's pretty much my spiritual journey these days: gaps and glimpses.

Oh, that bit of poetry I started this post with--that's the third verse of John Lennon's "Across The Universe." See what we miss when we skip the third verse? Note: For my younger readers, John Lennon was in band called The Beatles. ;-)

In case you're interested, I've included the complete lyrics of this song at the bottom of this post along with an explanation of that weird language John used at the end of each verse.

Maybe one day I'll publish a book of skipped third hymn verses. Then someday those amazing poets of old, like Isaac Watts, will come up to me in heaven and say, "Thanks for the book Pops. By the way why did you people skip those verses?" And I'll say, "I'm not sure Mr. Watts, but it may have been for expedience sake. You see it was important that we got out of church by noon so we could beat the Methodists to the cafeteria."

So you'll know; here's the third verse of one of Isaac Watts amazing lyrics:

See, from his head, his hands, his feet, 
    sorrow and love flow mingled down. 
    Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
    or thorns compose so rich a crown.  

We shouldn't have skipped that part.

One more example of the treasures we miss when skip third verses (From The Sound of Silence. Simon & Garfunkel):

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared disturb the sound of silence.

---

Here are the lyrics I promised. Third verse included.

"Across The Universe"

By John Lennon

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me
Jai Guru Deva OM

Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
Jai Guru Deva OM

Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on, across the universe
Jai Guru Deva OM

Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

---

The Sanskrit phrase Jai Guru Deva, is a sentence fragment whose words could have many meanings. Literally it approximates as "glory to the shining remover of darkness," and can be paraphrased as "Victory to God divine". --Wikipedia