Christmas Carols & Cracker Barrels

A FEW NIGHTS AGO, on the road near Gainesville, Texas, we were road-weary and ready to eat. It was dark and cool. If you’re hungry on a winter night and you see a Cracker Barrel sign, somehow it just seems right. The place was nearly empty, but a big fire was going, and a game board of giant checkers was set up and ready for any pair wanting to rock and play a game.

My Amazing-Missus was browsing the gift shop, I was seated by Rachel, with four stars on her apron, to have a cup of coffee. Playing over the sound system was a “Christmas” song I had never heard before. It was like a caricature of song, sort of a mash-up between bluegrass and country/western called, “Call Collect on Christmas.”

With a little research I found it was recorded by a guy named Del McCoury, about a drifter who was recalling, following the passing of his dear mother, that her last request was that he call her collect on Christmas. I bet his mother would have loved Cracker Barrel.

Christmas music is one of those things people either love or not. I know some who start listening to Christmas tunes as soon as Hobby Lobby puts up their yuletide decorations on July 5 every year. On a scale of Love It on the left, to Hate It on the right, I (as I do politically) tend to be somewhere near the middle but leaning left.

One of the things I love is discovering new tunes and arrangments. Don’t get me wrong, I love the classic carols and songs like Dean Martin’s version of “Silver Bells” and “Mele Kalikimaka” by Bing Crosby.

Remember The Band, that band from the 60s? Surely you know their big hit, “The Weight”? Well, a guy from The Band wrote and they recorded a song called “Christmas Must Be Tonight”. It’s a wonderful song.

A while back, a fresh young group called Bahamas covered the song and it is one of my annual favorites. Their arrangement is delightful on so many levels. Here is a link to the song on YouTube. Enjoy, and by all means put on your best set of headphones to savor every slide guitar chord, every wonderful lyric and each and every “shoop, shoop woow” of the backup singers.

Bahamas. Christmas must be tonight

Christmas music is so memorable, in my opinion, because these tunes have the most beautiful melodies ever written. "The Wexford Carol" is a example of what I mean. Fortunately, for us all there is an arrangement of this carol recorded by Yo-Yo Ma and Alison Krauss. Check it out.

Yo-Yo Ma, Alison Krauss. The Wexford Carol

Oh, and if you would like to give a listen to Del sing his broken hearted little ditty about his poor lonesome momma, it’s on YouTube too (and playing at a Cracker Barrel near you). I recommend you listen to it while enjoying a hot cup of coffee and a biscuit slathered with apple butter.

Del McCourt. Call Collect on Christmas

I have to include one more. This is Nataly Dawn, one of my favorites. She is so multi-talented. I recommend you pair this with gingerbread cookie and a mug of mulled-wine.

Snow. Nataly Dawn

I would love to hear from you. What are your favorite Christmas tunes and arrangements?

Checking The Boxes

Call it: #1 gratuitous bragging, or #2 unnecessary roughness, or #3 cynicism.

I am: #1 a proud Pops, #2 an old man that has earned my turn to speak without a filter (I however use my blog rather than Twitter like other old, filterless dudes.), and #3 Yes, I am a cynic.

One of our Grand-Girls recently came home with a written report from the principal’s office. YIKES… The title at the top of the form however, was: “Positve Office Referral.” I had no idea such a thing existed. My parents never received a report like this from my principal or any other employee of the school system.

Of course I’m proud! And yes I am bragging. If I could find one of those bumper stickers that says, “My Grand-Kids Are Smart,” I would use it.

I have redacted much of the glowing report, but I wanted to share the checklist portion of the form. Notice that she checked ALL the boxes. 

But this essay is only partially about bragging. Just for fun (or to deepen the collective depression) pick a politician, any politician, up to and including the one currently occupying the “highest office in the land”. Now, check all the boxes that apply.

What if we were to make a pact that in any forthcoming election we would only vote for candidates that could check half these boxes?

For more than thirty years, I worked with teenagers in local churches. Then and now, young people hold a very dear place in my heart. When it comes to youth, my cynicism melts away. I am an eternal optimist in this area.

Looking back over those years and those kids, I hope that I was honest with them and realistic and straightforward. One of the things I loved about that role was trying to walk with them as they navigated adolescence. Sort of a guiding principle for me came from a verse in the Book of Luke, 2:52. I liked it a lot because it is the only verse in the Bible that says anything about Jesus as a teenager. The Bible pretty much skips the years of his life between 12 and 30. 

The verse says: “Jesus grew in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.” I’m not a theologian; never have been, never will be. I did not go to seminary and the only Greek I know is the guy that runs the gyros food truck (flam on the snare, crash cymbal).

My take on the verse is that Jesus grew in four ways: intellectually (in wisdom), physically (in stature), spiritually  (in favor with God), and socially (in favor with man). And there you have a balanced picture of adolescence.

One of the crazy parts of the whole adolscence journey is figuring out what is up with these changing bodies? (I have similar questions as my 60-something year old body is in full mutiny.)

If you will recall, getting to know and figuring out what to do with these uncertian physical urges was a challange for teens.(And apparently for old politicans too).

As I hoped to convey, there is also inside of us a spiritual curiosity and life worth exploring. It’s just that it doesn’t demand attention like the physical part does. So as a youth minister you try to creatively help, or offer tools, or encouragement. Sometimes I did more harm than good, I’m certain. 

I do know this: as someone who wanted to help teens develop their worldview, as they began to clarify and define their values, you always hoped there was a part of their culture that was solid, that would support them. When President Clinton did what he did to Monica Lewinsky and then went on national TV, wagged his finger at us and lied to us, I hated that. He was undermining culture, kicking stones from the foundation; in my opinion. I hated the plague of sexual abuse of young people by church leaders.

When the current POTUS, and proud owner of his own illicit sexual exploits, says that he wants to see Roy Moore, an unrepentent pervert who took advantage of teenaged girls, elected to the United States Senate because he needs his vote; our culture is undermined. We become more base as a nation and as a civilization. And by “base” I mean more unprincipled, with squishy values. And even more tragically, there is that misguided, ugly thread within the “evangelical church” that is supporting this twisted reality as well. 

And we wonder why young people today mistrust institutions.

I am so grateful that my Grand-Kids have amazing, loving, grounded parents, solid spiritual communities and schools where a little girl’s teacher and principal will give them a report that affirms virtue.

This same little girl said something to me a few days ago about the president of the United States. I asked her if she knew who the president was? She said, “Abraham Lincoln?” I couldn’t bear to tell her otherwise.

How long will it take to see justice?

"How long? Not long because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." -- Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I hope he’s right.

A Trojan & A Spartan

Preface: Remember the Trojan War that started when a Trojan prince went to Sparta and abducted their queen? Well, this is kind of like that; except this time the Trojan was a college boy and the Spartan queen was Miss December.

You have to have a union before you can have a reunion. Feel free to quote me on that.

Typically when I think of a reunion, I think of a group of people striving to be thinner, healthier, happier and appear more financially successful than they really are. You know, kind of like in Facebook World. But, as I discovered this weekend, that is not always the case.

Late last week, around the office, people were asking, “Big weekend plans?” You know the routine. My answer for this past weekend: “Why yes, we’re going to my Amazing-Missus’ high school reunion.” Typical reply: “I bet you’re thrilled about that [wink-wink].”

Actually I was looking forward to it. This was not my first gathering with the Bixby High School Class of 1972. This group reunites relatively regularly, and although I’m an outlier of several sorts, I’ve always been welcomed. Of course, why wouldn’t they, I am married to their Miss December (no centerfold involved), according to the 1972 Spartan Yearbook. And I am happy, blessed and humbled to say, that Miss December and I hold the title of being Married The Longest to the Same Person among this cohort.

How Miss December got out of the house without her mother seeing that dress...?

I am a few years older than these youngsters; proud Senior ’69 and only a few years away from being a 69 year-old senior. Not only am I older, but I didn’t even attend their school. Worse yet, I attended their biggest rival—the school just across the river. I was a Jenks Trojan.

If you’ve ever been around an Oklahoma University football fan, you know that if they see someone in a red shirt they will holler, “BOOMER!!” in hopes that the person will respond, “SOONER!!” In that spirit, if a Bixby Spartan hears the word “Jenks”, they reflexively reply, “Jenks Stinks!!”

Although it’s been many years since I attended a Jenks football game, as we gathered for the first of the reunion activities, a tailgate party at a Bixby Spartan football game, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat creepy and disloyal; like I might feel at a Re-elect Trump rally.

But this had nothing to do with old school rivalries or the fact that Bixby beat Jenks in football this year for the first time in 40 years. This was about re-unioning, re-membering, re-calling tales of simpler days; basically re-collecting.

In the last event of the weekend, a few of her classmates picked up guitars and provided a soundtrack of sorts for the reminiscing. And as a bonus, these guys were good, really good. I thought to myself, “I wish I had brought my drums.” One of my favorites of the night was Eric Clapton’s “Old Love”, somehow apropos for such a time as this. 

At one point, in that last event of the weekend, as they were scanning yearbooks of their youth through their bifocals, I thought about standing and admonishing them to remember the words of the Old Testament:

“Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this.” Ecclesiastes 7:10

Or, for those who don’t speak King James:

“Don't long for ‘the good old days.’ This is not wise.” —New Living Translation

But surely it can’t hurt to reunite every few years and rekindle, can it? Sitting as an outsider watching the Bixby Class of ’72; NO, the answer is no, it can’t hurt a thing. After 45 years these people weren’t worried about waistlines, bottom lines or goal lines. They were just humans being human for a few hours.

As my Amazing-Missus said her good-byes and we left the reunion, I thought of this Beatles song, and her, and me, and Spartans Class of ’72, and the Trojans Class of ’69:

"In My Life"

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

In my life I love you more

Erlebnisgesellschaft

ON MY BUSINESS CARD, my title is listed as “Chief of Creative Strategies and Corporate Culture”. Yes, it is meant to be taken with a grain or two of salt and an eye roll, but it sounds much more noble than “Head Huckster in an Industry With Questionable Moral Redeeming Value”.

In ninth grade English class, we were given an assignment: write a paper on what you would like to be when you grow up. I remember some of my classmates struggling with the assignment. When you’re 14 or so, and filled with bright hope and other stuff, it can be hard to narrow the possibilities for a life calling down to one job. 

For me it was easy. At that moment in time I had vocational clarity. I was to be a radio disk jockey. Even then I was certain I could stack the order of current hits to create a playlist that would not only wow and entertain but prove to be the soundtrack for young lovers everywhere.

Of course, my commitment to being a great DJ would wax and wane, and my vocational vision would wander over the next few years, but never, ever would I have written an essay about being the marketing guy for a bank. But that all changed with my discovery of erlebnisgesellschaft.

In the early 90s, a German sociologist named Gerhard Schulze wrote a book called "Erlebnisgesellschaft", or "The Experience Society". Then in 1999, a couple of guys named Pine and Gilmore wrote an article explaining what they called “The Experience Economy”. They used the example of a birthday party and the requisite birthday cake to explain the various economies and how the experience economy fits. It goes something like this:

Agaraian economy: To make the cake, the mom gathers the necessary commodities and makes the cake from scratch.

Goods-Based economy: Life gets a little easier. Now some lady named Betty Crocker has put a bunch of the key ingredients in a box called a cake mix.

Service economy: Now you don’t even have to turn on an oven. You go to Wal Mart, point at a cake in a glass case, they squirt the kid’s name on it, and voilà! you have yourself a party. (Well, you still have to get the pointy hats, napkins, punch, balloons, magician, corn dogs, and clean the house when it’s all over.)

And last, but not least, the Experience Economy: Now you just outsource the whole thing to Chuck E. Cheese.

Erlebnisgesellschaft, in theory, changed my perspective on marketing a bank—a part of an industry that has managed to turn even “service” into a commodity. Somehow it made the vocation seem more like a calling than a job. I thought we had made some strides toward this idea, until I visited the pinnacle of the Experience Economy model: The American Girl Doll Store.

Our oldest Grand-Girl will be eight soon. (The recommended age for the AGD experience.) I had heard they stage quite the experience and I strive to earn the right to continue to drink from my “#1 Pops” coffee mug. So, let’s do this right.

A Google search provided these tips: 1.) Make your bistro reservations before you arrive. 2.) Stay the night before your visit in a partner hotel. 3.) Arrive early and make your reservation at the spa first thing. Check, check & check!

As we arrived at the “partner hotel”, the young lady at the desk looked right past me to Karlee, who was holding her American Girl doll. “This must be yours!” she says enthusiastically, as she hands Karlee a large AGD bag.

As soon as we walked into our room, we noticed cookies and milk awaiting her arrival. She dug in to her bag to find a tiny little bed, satin sheets, a pillow, a robe and slippers all for her doll and hers to keep. There was also a $25 AGD gift card in the bag, to prime the pump so to speak.

The next morning we were at the AGD queendom as they doors opened. Karlee made an appointment at the spa to have her doll’s ears pierced, then we were off to Brunch at the AGD Bistro and shopping. Several hours and dollars later, we started for home. As I looked in the rearview mirror to find Karlee and her doll sound asleep, I thought, “Erlebnisgesellschaft indeed!”

Tea time at the Bistro

Selecting a new pair of shoes takes a committee

Done