Just A Guy and A Guitar

Concert ... musical performance ... can be vocal or instrumental or both.

Over the years I have attended numerous concerts, walking away from them carrying the music I had heard in my head and my heart. Most of them were vocal/instrumental, many of them were church related, some of them more memorable than others.

It's weird, but, when asked the question,"who have you seen in concert?", my mind tends to respond immediately with concerts I have seen in a large forum - such as the Reunion Arena in Dallas. There was a period of time where I seemed to constantly be a part of the vast crowd - listening, watching and dancing as the music of various groups and individuals seemed to pump it's way into my bloodstream, as the rhythm seemed to take over the beat of my heart and the words would wrap around my mind and have me singing along.

The groups varied - everything from Neil Diamond & Barry Manilow to Tears for Fears t0 Journey & Foreigner. Each performance was spectacular with the lighting and the orchestration. There were laser light shows and back up singers, big screens for close ups of the band and, in the case of Journey, one spectacularly beautiful dark cherry red grand piano that I can still picture in my mind with crystal clarity. Everything was huge and, even today, hearing one of the songs can bring back to my mind the feeling of sitting/standing in the dark listening to it live and in person.

Still ... although the concerts of John Cougar Mellencamp or Powerstation may first come to mind when asked the question ... I have to say they are not my favorites.

Nope. As much as I love the back up musicians and singers, the lightshows, the dancers, and all the extras that make these concerts so huge, it is the intimate settings of listening ... simply listening to the musician and his instrument ... that are the "favorite" concert moments I look back on.

Listening live and in person seems to allow the music to take such a greater hold than if it is simply heard over the radio. There's something much more personal when music is heard live, when you are able to sit and watch the musician play - fingers rippling across the piano or strumming through the chords on a guitar. Watching the face of the singer as the song they are giving voice seems to come from somewhere deep inside them.

I grew up with a musician. Some of my favorite memories of my little brother is sitting in the den, listening to him play the piano and sing. The music would float through our house, filling the silent corners, accompanying us in our daily tasks. Sometimes he would be alone and other times he would be joined by a couple of friends, but always would his voice flow over and through me, even as I pretended to be the cool, uninvolved older sister just reading a book on the couch.

Although I really don't care for country music, per se, I have seen some really good concerts by country artists, both small and large, yet none of them truly captured me quite the same as the music of a young man who I loved for a time *mumblemumble* years ago. During our time together, I had the opportunity to see him perform on stage many times, yet the music was always best when it was played during the dark of the night ... when it was just us two and we would sit, knee to knee on the floor and he would play the guitar and sing. The music would light his face and come from his soul and fill my heart.

I recently was priviledged to attend two concerts by two very unique musicians in one weekend.

They weren't held in huge arenas with thousands of fans.

There wasn't any lightshow or back-up bands or singers.

There was simply a stage with a mike for a singer and his guitar placed in front of an appreciative audience.

Each man gave a performance which was filled with energy and heart. Each song told a story - whether in the lyrics on their own, or by the face and voice of the individual artist singing. The guitars were extensions of their bodies, their fingers at times caressing and other times beating the strings but always making the notes blend together with an artistry that was intriguing and enticing to watch.

Captivated, I sat on the edge of my seat. The lyrics and medleys singing inside my soul. Each concert so unique and different from the other and yet the same in that they were simply a musician ... playing his guitar and singing.

When the talent is real and the music is good ... lightshows and back-up may be awesome - but they are soooo incredibly not necessary. Just ask anyone who have attended concerts by either Steve Carlson or Jason Manns.

A concert with just a guy and his guitar, doing what they love to do ... sing the music they love.

Observations From A Trip Up The Road

Baby and I took another road trip last week. It was just a quickie ... up one morning early and back the next afternoon. So ... of course ... I had to make some observations and what fun would observations be, unless they are shared?

Now ... this trip, I must admit, was a true test of how much Baby and I have bonded. It was a true test of how well I've learned to handle her and how well she is able to protect me. You see, this trip was taken during a flooding thunderstorm of blinding rain, ear-shattering thunder and sky-splitting lightning. Traveling down the 75 mph turnpike at a scary 35 mph, it was definitely a test of Baby's tire traction and my nerves for it was note exactly optimum traveling weather.

My plan was to begin the trip at 4 am, however the meteorologist on my television was telling me about the possible twisters in the area and the hail using my house as a drum was the size of a hen egg.

I decided it would be best to wait.

Instead, my trip began at 6 am. It probably should have waited another hour, but I was already late and antsy to get to my destination. My first clue should have been the fact that getting out of my neighborhood included going through "puddles" that completely covered the street from side to side and were actually deep enough to hide part of the curb on each side. Once out on the main streets, the going was a bit easier as long as I managed to stay on the inside lanes and away from the sides. With windshield wipers going non-stop and rain beating a staccato beat on the sunroof, I made it to the turnpike entrance.

Did I mention that the toll booth doesn't have a covering? Yes ... it's always fun to roll down a window to face the elements of wind and rain in order to throw .50 cents to the toll booth basket and pray that one of the quarters isn't blown away. I almost opted to let caution go to the wind and run it, but knew that, as sure as I did, the toll booth cameras would snap Baby's picture and list her on the "Most Wanted" board. (Although, she would look pretty up there, next to that picture of the sleek black '67 Impala ...)

After a knuckle whitening hour of pushing against the northwest wind that was slamming my Baby with it's force, hurtling rain from all sides at us, the storm finally seemed to slow down. I wasn't sure if I had gotten ahead of it or if it had passed on by. All I knew is that the sky began to lighten from black and charcoal gray to a lighter, more dull metallic gray and the wind and the rain began to taper back to a manageable gust and patter. Picking up speed, I was finally able to begin to feel more like a car and driver, instead of a fish in a row boat.

Of course, then I began to check out my surroundings ... noting the water swollen fields, the overflowing ponds and creeks, and the man who was trying to get a load of wet hay unloaded from the back of a truck in order to feed the cows that were lining up at the trough, despite the lightning in the background and the miserable cold rain that continued to pelt out of the sky.

Observation number 1:
Farmers deserve much more thanks than they are given ... more dedicated than a postman because despite the elements ... wind, rain, hail, snow, ice, heat ... the animals must be fed.

Continuing down the turnpike, feeling calmer and more relaxed, releasing the clench that I'm sure Baby had to be feeling on her steering wheel, I turned up the music on my radio and listened to the sounds of Steve Carlson, CCR, BTO, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash and others as they played from my Baby's speakers. The wind had died further to occasional gusts and the rain wandered between drops and drizzle. The most difficult part now was working to stay away from the 18-wheelers as they kicked up the water, throwing a fine, and very blinding, mist up onto my windshields.

Now ... in my old car, the windshield wipers were controlled by my left hand, as they were attached to the part that operated my blinkers. Baby's windshield wipers are a bit more complex, with varying levels of delay and they are located on the right side of the steering wheel. While I've used them before, this trip gave me ample opportunity of practice in adjusting the settings that would set the wipers beating from right to left and back again regularly, swiftly or delayed, or, if I so chose, manually.

Observation number 2:
It's a fascinating way to pass the time when one finds themselves attempting to match the rhythm of the windshield wipers to the rhythm of the music coming from the speakers. Best song to work with? Dude! Asia's ... "Heat of the Moment" makes for hysterical laughter and can only be done with the manual wipers.

Observation number 3:
By this point, I might be a bit slap happy with dealing with little sleep, worry for my mom's upcoming surgery, trying to get to the hospital before they took her and driving through torrential storms and floods.

In case you hadn't figured that out yet.

With the rain finally having abated two hours after beginning the journey, my stomach told me that it required more than just the large thermos mug of tea (RoT's Earl Greyer ... really really good!), plus I needed to simply stretch for just a moment. So, I pulled off at a truck stop that I have frequented before and knew to be clean and prepared to go inside for a moment.

Observation number 4:
It's when you're pulled over and ready to get out of the car that you find you haven't completely gotten out of the path of the storm.

I literally opened the door, got out, closed the door and took a step towards the entrance of the little shop when the heavens opened up and sent forth the gale force winds and the blinding rain, shattering my hearing and sight with the subsequent thunder and lightning.

Yep ... me and Murphy's Law ... we're just THAT tight.

Making a quick stop, grabbing a bottle of water, a bag of chex mix, a bag of dark chocolate M&M's and saying a prayer that the "looked like fresh" danish really was fresh, I took the bag - after giving the clerk a raised eyebrow and glancing at the rain outside when she asked me "Paper or plastic" ... seriously ... and dashed to Baby's door, pulling it open and jumping inside as fast as possible to avoid minimum wetness both on me and in her.

Fixing up my little nest of goodies, starting her engine and heading Baby back onto the highway, I took a bite of my danish. It wasn't bad ... not completely fresh, but not bad. I thought to myself that I should have let it be zapped a moment in the microwave and of course, then, in the back of my mind, I'm hearing Dean from Supernatural's episode, "Simon Said", saying just once he'd like to eat something that didn't need to be microwaved at a mini mart.

Did I mention that I might be a bit slap happy?

Did I mention that it wasn't 10 minutes after leaving the truck stop that the rain once again slowed to a light, occasional mist?

Yeah ... not kidding ... me and Murphy ... we're that tight.

Heading on up the turnpike, breakfast, such as it was, is completed. The M&Ms are stowed in my bag for later snacking and the chex mix is open and occasionally being munched. I'm getting closer to my destination and, I'll be honest, I'm beginning to get a bit more anxious to get there. Still, conditions that they are, I keep Baby set on a cruise control of the speed limit. No need in Murphy letting the highway patrolmen have fun with me.

To occupy my mind, since it's way to early to be calling my friends and passing the time with my cell phone, I begin to let my gaze wander around the countryside. Now ... I know that they've been there ... I've traveled this road dozens of times over the last 18 years ... but it was on this trip that it simply amazed me as I realized the number of adult video shops that are located along the highway. I'm serious. Big signs advertising "XXX Videos" and "Adults Only" flashing neon in the pale gray light of morning. There aren't any other businesses. The towns are located back and away from the turnpike. These places have been opened in the abandoned buildings left from previous occupants such as Stuckeys, Nickerson Farms, etc. Those family friendly places that I remember stopping at as we traveled from Texas to Iowa and Kansas City to Minneapolis to visit family and friends during my childhood. The bright red roof or the pale blue trimming has been replaced with black and white and the rooms that held the restaurants serving homestyle food and offering tourist trinkets of t-shirts, tumblers, bells, & spoons have been replaced with ... well, I don't know and I don't want to know what the inside looks like now.

Observation number 5:
How can things be changing for the better when those places where parents felt safe to let their children roam, searching out candy and treats while they stretched their legs, have been replaced for places that are dark and advertise and cater towards the baser, primal instincts of our species?

Plus ... what the heck! These places are 24 hour and I'm here to tell you that many of them had cars and trucks parked in their lots as I passed and it was barely 8:30 in the morning!

That's. Just. WRONG.

Moving onward, I approached my destination. The rain was beginning to pick up and I was needing to pay closer attention. Keeping a close eye, I made the right exit and Baby hurtled towards the hospital where my Mom & Dad were waiting. Startled when my cell phone rang, I heard a family friend's voice telling me that they were taking my mom to surgery and wanting to know how much longer I would be. Checking the signs, I knew that I still had atleast 10 minutes to get to the hospital and then it would be a matter of the time it took to find a parking spot and get inside to the surgical area. Luckily we've been through this before and I knew in my mind exactly where I needed to go and how to get there.

Pulling into a parking spot, I gave a quick and silent thanks ... for the traveling mercies, the safety from the elements, for having Baby handle the roads like a champ ... and I ran into the hospital, stopping briefly at the door to close my umbrella and drop it into one of the handy dandy umbrella shaped plastic bags that the hospital provided at their entrance.

Arriving to the surgical waiting room, I found my family's friends but noticed the absence of my father. Finding out that he had gone with my mom to the prep area, I dumped my stuff and went to the large information desk I passed as I entered the room. Using my best "I've been delayed by the storms and I'm her daughter and she truly needs to see me before she goes" voice, I pled my case to the volunteers stationed there. Locating my mom in the computer, they glanced at each other and then back at me and one nodded to the other who rose and told me to follow her, that she would take me to see my mom.

And I did.

Despite the elements, the lack of sleep, and the slap happiness, I had made it in time to give my mom the hug and encouragement that she needed from her eldest child and, as I posted earlier, make it to the doctor's smile on the other side of the hours of waiting.

Final observation:

When it's really important, we do the things we need to do. We face the finger clenching elements and feed the cows or travel the turnpike and we do it with a rhythm that matches the music of our lives, with a giggle and a grin. Dry or wet, we take the sustenance when and where we can and we hurtle on, mindful of the past that is rich in memories, passing by the evil that surrounds us as we make our way to the ones who need us and love us.

But then ... those are just my observations on this trip. We'll see what happens next time Baby and I decide to go somewhere.

Thoughts from Tripping on the Road

Baby took a road trip last weekend to visit her grandparents for Easter and to have her first check up. Everything went well. She had her fluids checked and changed, tires balanced, and a couple of things checked that had drawn her mama’s attention. She was given a good bill of health, which pleased us all.

Needless to say … being out on the highway where she and I could open her up and let her go was a happy time for both Baby and her mama. With the sun shining down on us, the sunroof open, the windows down, and some awesome classic rock flowing from the speakers, we traveled the highway to and from with smiles and speed. (I would like to point out that while Baby is a speedy little girl, she was held tightly by the cruise control to the posted speed limits.)

Of course, I have been making this journey several times a year for the last 18 years, so there were moments of boredom. Normally, driving and traveling are great fun for me, getting out on the road is time to myself to plan, to dream, or to simply wander in my thoughts. This trip is no exception however this trip is more about “getting there” and then “getting home”. This trip is about spending time with my parents and then returning to my little home.

Yet, once on the road with my hair blowing and the music rocking, I couldn’t help but have a few thoughts, particularly on the drive homeward. I’ll be honest, I didn’t have much time for personal thoughts on the drive northward as I spent the better time of the three and a half hours on the cell phone chatting with a couple of friends. Cell phones are awesome for times like that and, as long as the battery is charged (note to self: need to get car charger for cell phone) and friends are home. Of course, there are drawbacks. Getting involved in a conversation can lead a person to missing their intended exit, causing them to drive an extra couple miles before turning around and going back.

The way I look at it … my life is so full of detours, what’s one more when the conversation is that good? Detours are the spice in life that keep us from becoming complacent. Goodness knows, my life is anything but complacent!

The drive homeward, though, was full of music and sunshine and wandering thoughts.

I made a new CD mix for the trip and got the opportunity to fully enjoy it on the way home. I am now full-on committed to my friend Rap’s delight in the music of Steve Carlson. Awesome, AWESOME stuff! Thank you, Rap, my Rap! Talk about an artist that can make you smile … let’s just say that he sounded really good in Baby’s speakers ... can't wait to hear him live and in person. (No Rap ... it's not June yet.)

Also sounding really good … Three Dog Night’s “Shambala”. There’s something about that song that just makes me smile … always has, even before I was given the mental picture of the Metallicar being worked on by a sweaty Dean. Yep. The song just has that kind of mood attached to it.

During our wanderings (ie.shopping excursion), Mom helped me pick out a new pair of sunglasses. I don’t wear them often – only when I am wearing my contacts which I did on Sunday driving homeward, which means the car was pointed towards the west. Did I mention the fact that I left my parents house at 5:30pm? Despite the fact I had on polarized sunglasses, a tinted top part of my windshield and the visor down as far as I could get it and still be able to see the vehicles in front of me, I STILL felt as though my eyeballs were still being branded with bright circles. I can only imagine the plight I would have had if I had simply worn my regular glasses.

I’ve decided that truckers have put way, way, WAY too many orange lights on their trucks. Used to be there was a light at the top and one on each side, in addition to the regular brake lights in the back. In the front it used to be a light at the top in each corner, and then, of course, the headlights that fill your entire rear window causing blindness of a different type. As the sun went down Sunday evening and the lights began to come on, it was as though there were houses of orange Christmas lights barreling down the turnpike. Seriously, do they truly need to outline the ENTIRE FRAMEWORK of the truck, the cab, the windows, the back door, the side doors, etc? One thing is certain … you can’t say that you don’t see them as they swoop down upon you making you feel as though you are a snail on the sidewalk, even when you are doing 75 mph on a turnpike. Bigger isn’t always better. Bigger can simply mean obnoxious. But that is simply my opinion.

Fire is very interesting as you are driving down a highway after dark. The glow of it up ahead, filling the night sky has you wondering what you are coming up on. Seeing as I’ve driven this highway once or twice, I knew right off the bat that it wasn’t a small town or rest stop. There’s nothing on this stretch except pastures dotted with the occasional house. Finally reaching the actual area of flames, it was a grass fire on the other side of the road. Spanning a good couple miles of the road, it was a bit eerie to drive by. It wasn’t one complete line of fire, but rather continuous pockets of flames reaching upward. What’s truly amazing is the fact that I was able to capture it on my little cell phone camera without braking the cruise control or moving from my lane of traffic. What was lucky was the fact that at this point I was driving southward and the wind was coming from the northwest, therefore it was blowing away from the highway instead of over it. What was interesting was that instead of fire trucks being on hand, there were only a couple of highway patrol cruisers on each end of the blazing area, keeping an eye on things.

I stopped to pick up something to eat on the way. I’ve been avoiding the hamburgers and fries from fast food stops lately, but let’s face it … eating a baked potato or a salad is simply not something that can be accomplished while driving. Since I wouldn’t be arriving home until late, I didn’t want to wait to eat and the chex mix I had with me wasn’t satisfying. So I stopped and got a burger and some fries – but no pop, I stuck to my water. Now … my oldest girlie is now working for a fast food chain and here is the thought that I came away with after I gave my order, paid my money, and was given my food: I pray that my girlie never looses her politeness towards people. As the voice over the box and the person who takes the money, I am pleased to report that she is pleasant, has a smile in her voice and is polite … atleast as far as I have witnessed. When placing my order on Sunday I was told three times to “hold on” … never once with a please, thank you for waiting, or apology for interrupting. When giving my money, the entire transaction consisted of being told $6.42 and the young woman took my money and gave my change without anything further … such as a thank you. When arriving to the window to pick up my food the bag was thrust through the window with a “here’s your meal” and another thrust through the window with a “here’s your water”. The young girl then turned around to talk to a friend. There was no thank you. There was no have a nice day. There was nothing. I’ll be honest, such blatant rudeness has a way of not just grating a nerve but also causes me to have to say something … usually something snide. So, I waited. When the girl returned to the window, it was with surprise to find me still there, yet did she ask if she could help me? Did she wonder if she had forgotten something? Did she question if there was something further I needed? No. She simply asked “What?” which sent me to the edge. I looked her steadily in the eye and said “You’re welcome, I WILL have a nice day, and I would like to speak to your manager about the quality of his help.” Yes. I did. I held up the drive thru line as the manager came to the window and I advised that as a national chain that purports in having such friendly people, he might want to rethink the placement of the people at his drive through windows. I then told him that next time, I’ll drive the extra mile to get my dinner from his competitor. I thanked him and I departed.

Let’s just say, I’m glad my girlie works for Wendy’s and not “the other place”. Like our Sammy, I suddenly don’t care for clowns.

I won’t go into my other thoughts … for they were many and varied and probably will only make sense to me, and my Baby of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me … I need to find a highway … CCR’s “Run Through the Jungle” is fixing to come on and it truly sounds best with the sunroof open, the wind blowing, and the stereo blaring as Baby and I travel down the road.

Oh … by the way … thank you for stopping by and have a nice day … you’re always welcome here!