Spinning Backward

I DID SOMETHING THIS WEEK that I haven’t done for forty years, and it was surprisingly fun.

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

— T.S. Eliot

I’ve noticed something about me and my peers, when we get together and talk, we talk about what we used to do. Somehow, in these strolls down memory lane, we come off braver, stronger, smarter, more adventurous, athletic, and talented. Our exploits were grander, more romantic, more genuine, more enduring.

We tell stories about school, summers, cars, girls, jobs and such, that all start the same way: “Back when I was young…”

If you were to eavesdrop on one of these chats, you might hear something like this: Back when I was a kid, I hauled hay all day long…that was back when hay bales were heavy…before the Obama administration made the farmers grow all this genetically altered grass. We were lucky if we got paid ten bucks a day, which was enough for a tank of gas and money for a date. Thankfully, I was dating girls before Ralph Nader, the Clintons and Obama invented seat belts. That way, she could sit right next to me. We didn’t have air-bags either… we didn’t need them… and our dashboards where steel back then… see this scar?

Regardless of the alignment of our memories to actual reality, it’s still fun to recapture an occasional moment from our youth.

And this week I did just that—for the first time in a long, long time I bought a record! That’s right; a vinyl, 33 and a third, Long-play album! It was highly invigorating.

Thanks mostly to today’s neo-hippies, and young urban hipsters, and their marketplace of choice which includes stores like Urban Outfitters, record players and vinyl records are making a comeback (along with beards and beads and bellbottoms).

So, for once, when I told My Amazing-Missus, “Yes, I want to keep that, it may come back in style,” I was right! I dug out the box of my old records and it is an apt collection indeed. Sgt. Peppers, Rubber Soul, The White Album, Revolver, The Doors, The Kinks, The Beach Boys, Miles Davis, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Carol King, James Taylor, Crosby, Stills Nash & Young…

I even found my turntable. Unfortunately it’s gears are frozen up, it’s wires are frayed and its needle’s a little rusted; sort of like its owner’s.

In the next few days the FedEx guy will carefully (I hope) place a box containing my new record player on the front porch. So this weekend I’m hoping to set everything up, then maybe I’ll put on my headphones, light some incense, platter-up Iron Butterfly’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, and give it a spin.

I will live in the 60s again for a little bit, and then I will go to the Social Security website and sign up for Medicare, because I’m in MY 60s now, and I only have a month to get this done.

Then I will put The Beatles on the turntable and listen to “When I’m 64” and wish that it was 1964 again.

my first album purchase in many many years--the amazing Bill Evans.

Getting The Band Together

The other day I was looking through a spare closet for something when I ran across a cymbal bag full of Zildjan cymbals. There were rides, crashes, and splashes and a lovely set of hi-hats. Then I tried to remember what I had come to this closet to find, but that train had left the one track of my mind.

I did have this thought: I have cymbals, drumsticks and even a set of drums. I should start a band!

It’s been years since I last played in a band, but other old guys do it (whether they should or not). And with casinos popping up all across our great state, there seem to be a lot of venues wanting musical acts of old, past-their-prime musicians.

If you’ve never started a band, you many not know that the first thing you do is think of a good name. Without a great band name, you might as well leave the cymbals in the closet.

"Pops & The Geezers" has a nice ring, but it eliminates any chance of cross-generational appeal. Remember that band from the early 60s with the visionary name, "Gerry And The Pacemakers"? I bet back when they were recording their big hit, Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying, they had no idea their band name would be as relevant in the 60s as it would be for them in their 60s (albeit with a different sort of connotation).

I do like the idea of a “coming of age” sort of theme to the band’s name. In fact, I think it would be cool to have a band made up of kids in their first coming-of-age and more senior members like myself in our second coming-of-age. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

How about "Puberty & Senility"? "The Young Punks & The Old Pharts"? Hmmm, I can’t really picture either of those in the bright lights of the Forked Feathers Casino and Buffet.

There’s actually an app for that. Yes, a website with a band name generator. You give it a key word and it spits out some suggestions for band names. So I entered the word “age” and got these recommendations: 

• Unified Age
• Age Pony
• Timely Age
• Godless Age And The Exiled Groove
• Yard Of Age

No, no, no, no and nope.

Then I found an acronym generator. Here you put in your keyword and…

AGE = Advancing Gravity Era

So much for the help of technology. How about “The Slowly Rolling Stones”? Maybe something edgier: “The Angry Republicans”? Not musical enough. “The Old Spice Guys”?

I need more input, so let’s talk about adding band members and see if they have some ideas. First, I need some really good singers. We must have tight harmonies. How about killing two birds with one stone (not as a band name but as a phrase meaning taking care of more than one matter at a time). There’s that two-sister band called “First Aid Kit”! I love their vocals and seamless harmonies and they obviously are fearless when it comes to naming a band. Heck, throw some Lipitor and Viagra into that first aid kit and it’s multi-generational.

Since the band, “The Civil Wars” broke up (I guess their name was a self-fulfilling prophecy), maybe they’re looking for a new gig. I would take one or both of them.

On guitar: Hendrix is dead (and I don’t feel too good myself). Ha. (Thanks to Lewis Grizzard). James Taylor is timeless and wonderful. You not only get the guitar, but great vocals too. For me the choice for bass is obvious: Esperanza Spalding! And on piano: Diana Krall. Who else? 

I’ve often thought, if there is one jazz pianist I would love to see play live, it would be Diana Krall. But she hardly ever tours in the U.S. so what are the chances. Turns out, chances are 100%! She’s coming to OKC this fall and I already have tickets for My Amazing-Missus and myself. I sure hope "Pops & His Pals" don’t have a gig that night. (Sometimes you have to try a name in a sentence to see how it feels.) (It doesn’t feel right.)

The melody of our first song is already running through my mind. It will be a cover of the Leslie Gore song from the early 60s, but with a twist. Our’s will be “It’s My Party And I’ll Cry And Complain If I Want To.”

Check out this music video of the girls of “First Aid Kit”. They could be the new lead vocalist of “Pops & The Pups” (Not to be confused with “Gladys Knight & The Pips”).

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