Under the Big Top # 38: “Fortunate Son”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Heart to Hang Onto”
Album: Rough Mix
Release Date: September, 1977

“Heart to Hang Onto” is this week’s Big Top entry.  The song is about those among us who struggle to find their identity due to a lack of conviction, focus and faith.  I count my blessings that I have never had that problem.  I credit this to my upbringing, which set a solid foundation and opened up an endless array of doors for me. 

We are just a few weeks shy of my Mom and Dad’s 56^th wedding anniversary and so I thought I would roll out a poem I wrote for their 35^th (below).  It hits on many of the highlights of my upbringing, but more important it is reflective of a youth full of life and love.  My apologies go out to Pat’s wife Ruth, who was not in the picture yet (and so is not in the poem) along with the additional grandchildren who came after October, 1995; Joe (who was awfully close), Molly, Katie, Grace, Peter, Jack, Ryan, Abigail, Patrick and Anastasia.  Some of the poem will be nonsensical to those who were not there.  But that’s not the point.  The point is in the title “A Relationship Full of Life”.  However, to try and explain some of the characters, localisms and colloquialisms, I’ve added a Glossary of Terms at the bottom.

“Heart to Hang Onto” is such a beautiful song.  The version here was performed live on Late Show with David Letterman (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVjmtT-f7VY):  Pete Townshend accompanied by Eddie Vedder and the Paul Shaffer house band.  The original interplay was with Ronnie Lane (Lane singing the verses and Townshend the choruses).  In this live version Pete Townshend and Eddie Vedder switch it around some: Very well done I might add.  The mid-section horns in the studio version were performed by John Entwistle.  The house band does a very nice job of recognizing that Who-bandmate contribution.

A Relationship Full of Life

October 15, 1960 that’s where we begin
Ike was on his way out, Camelot on its way in

And on the alter at St. Pat’s another Camelot had emerged
Here’s my humble attempt to put parts of that story into words

Franklin was a hick town, much, much smaller than now
“Gooey Louie” had the eggs, Brett had the cows

Mom and Dad spent their honeymoon up in Quebec
And picked up a pumpkin on their way back

To their new home on Mill Street where they placed it outside
Announcing to Franklin, the Steeves had arrived

Now those first years on Mill Street the thoughts I have few
For I didn’t come round until mid ‘62’

But I know happiness abounded and the laughs there were plenty
Visits from Jerry and Big Fred, Nandy and Grampy

And Margaret and Kenny who were back then still single
The Rappas, the Martins, Mr. Burke as Kris Kringle

Dad kept political signs off the lawn
Occasionally out of the woods leaped a doe with her fawn

In the meantime the family had started to grow
‘63’ Jen and Fred, and 64 along came Joe

Soon after my memory begins to take hold
What follows are some tidbits that need to be told!

The cigarette stool was where everyone wanted to sit
‘koya koya’ you never saw Jen without it

Fred rode a red tractor, dinner time Dad said grace
Jen’s nickname was ‘Missy’; Joe had mud on his face

Jack O’Connor took photos, Mush Mush was our Dog
Ginger hid in the tub and we all searched for God

We heard “I am the Ghost of Abel Gable”
And made sure we ate up everything on the table

After dinner sometimes Dad would have us all searching
For 4-leaf clovers: I’m sure he was laughing

In ‘67’ Mom gave birth to Amy, December 9^th was the day
Amz name would have been Santa if Joe had gotten his way

With Amy in tow many memories followed
‘Scuz cuts’ Jolly Cholly’s, Bubble-heads at the Mellos

Benson’s Animal Farm, Mrs. Doyle and Proovo
Dad never got their names right; he’d say ‘Boil’ and ‘Ghoulo’

From Mill Street to Martin Ave in 1969
Now we were in the center, no longer on the town line

There was Dean Junior College, St. Mary’s and more
Newbury’s Kearney’s, Jimmy’s Penny Candy Store

As the new decade rolled in the old one said “Top that!”
The new decade answered with a bang; it was Pat

Here’s where my memory really starts to cruise
Every statue was Dad; the ‘71 Bruins would …. Lose

Big Butch walked round town with a radio held to his ear
There were rabbits and turtles, white shoes I had to wear

Jen in the Brownies; Dean kids shining moons
Street hockey, tree climbing, water balloons

'Joshua Brown’ in the cellar, altar boys and ‘Boo Agway’
Driving to hockey at 5 am Dad would shout out ‘Woon-sock-ayyyy’

Mr. Rappa pulled a chunk of wood out of Fred’s wrist
Sister Margaret Ester had me on her negative list

Joe ran outside naked to bring the bathing suits in
With Jen and Phil in it the pools lining burst open

There was Falmouth and Ashland, Rocky Woods with the egg toss
Mom taking us to swimming lessons in the VW bus

After painting the Martin Ave house harvest gold
We got out of there quick and moved into Park Road

I must admit now I did not want to move there
There were holes in the walls; there were holes in the stairs

But Mom and Dad worked day and night, room to room
And turned a rickety old house into a beautiful home

This is where the memories really start to pile high
There was Mr. Lavertue, Lindy and Herm Bly

Dad’s mopeds, Jen’s green hair, Phil’s ice cream and Nicky
Whiskers played shortstop, there was Daisy and Chrissie

When Mom rang the dinner bell, no matter where you heard it
So much laughing at the table – “Bububububbit”

Jen and Amy, Julie and Liz set up haunted house in the cellar
Where Mrs. Tibbit’s corpse could be seen for a quarter

We had a puzzle room, and Charlie on the MTA
Flashlight Tag, Kick-the-Can, fire crackers, Croquet

Wacky Packs, coins, apple trees, Danny Leary
‘The Watergate’, Joe’s killer dance on Skittle Alley

When Dad read from the Bible on Christmas Eve, we were all ears
Christmas Day began at the top of the stairs

Soccer and baseball, Friendly’s and the New Store
Applebee’s, Welick’s, paper routes door to door

And then there were all the great times on vacation
The ‘Penalty Box’, the time Joe went hitchhiking

Williamstown, Ottawa, Quebec and the Falls
D.C. and Bush Gardens, it was a ball

And let’s not forget Camp Wind-‘n’-the-Pines
Mom holding the gas pedal, Dad trying to drive

By ’79 Jen was dating a great guy named Dale
Pat rushed over to greet him, Jen’s face went pale

Rolling into the 80s there’s a lot to be said
Emmett falls off the garage roof, Paul Smits under Jen’s bed

Mom was the best hostess for every occasion
Whether Thanksgiving or Christmas or just welcoming a friend in

North Adams and Lowell, Johnson & Wales, Keene, B.C.
There was Shannon and tailgates and Sucker in Lee

‘Mi Grabisin grabone’, the Scrubius Pip…. I just had to throw those in
Along with “Bird Lady”, “Oh Lamby”, “Nachos Grande”, Jason

Amy left behind after dinner; shopping at Heartlands
Mom running the Bellingham Branch for Ben Franklin

In late ’84 everyone got to meet Nancy
After she’d taken the Pike half way to Albany

In ’85 Ginger coordinated a great 25^th
’86 Jen and Dale….. Best Man must make a list

’87 “Party Summer”, the 1^st camping trip
Monica said ‘hi neighbor’, teeth under her lip

Lots of other things also happened that year
There was Lake Street, ‘Plum Dandy’, and more than one beer

It was the 1^st “Pete Steeves Open”, the Grinch with the Whos arm in arm
And ‘we can’t find the money for the mortgage on the farm’

’88 the second annual camping trip to Moosalaukee
Where Nancy and I stuck out the rain with Fred and Kippy

’89-’91 was all laced with weddings
Joe and Mon, Fred and Kip, Pete and Nanc…. Amy singing

“Big Mac La Fry La O” & “I’ve been hornswaggled!”
Bachelor Party police escorts, a bus driver frazzled

Getting Nancy dressed up as a clown
My face in a cake, and then dancing around

Meanwhile the annual camping trips continue in earnest
Out of all the fire side chats “I love you guys” one of the best

Dale cooking chicken over nuclear heat
Dad heaved rocks in the river; Nancy dropped a cake meant for Pete

Then there was the trip to Prince Edward Island
And the rain cloud that followed us from the hills to the beach sand

Finally into the picture came Paul
The rooftop party on Beacon Street sure topped them all

Johnson and Wales at Pat’s graduation
Seeing Mom sobbing, overcome with emotion

And the grandchildren arrived, first Kelsie then Kelley
Then Charlotte (with Mom’s help), Meagan and last for a short time, Lily

I say for a short time because Jen and Dale are expecting
The news was enough to have Mom summersaulting

Here it is ’95, Mom and Dad’s 35^th
They get to spend part of it overseas with the Irish

When I read between the lines of these words that I’m writing
I see a story that I find O Quite Fascinating

Because it reflects a relationship that is So-Full-Of-Life!
That started with Dad and Mom alone…. Husband and wife

Glossary of Terms

The Characters in order of appearance (not including Mom and Dad and their 6 children):

Big Fred and Jerry > my grandparents on my Dad’s side

Nandy and Grampy > my grandparents on my Mom’s side

Margaret and Kenny > two of my Mom's siblings

The Rappas > Nancy and Bob Rappa; my parents earliest of friends in Franklin

The Martins > Mom’s oldest sister Marge and her husband Bill and their children

Mr. Burke > another of my parents earliest friends in Franklin

Jack O’Connor > Dad’s best friend growing up (also my Godfather)

Ginger (Sister Virginia Smith) > another of my Mom’s sisters, who became a nun (a great one I might add!)

The Mellos > Dad’s sister, Nineen, her husband, Arthur, and their boys Peter, Eric and Andy

Big Butch > a kindly, very large war veteran who hung out downtown.

Mr Lavertue > a carpenter who spent a lot of time repairing our Park Road home

Lindy > a kindly elderly man who befriended my parents. 

Herm Bly > another elderly man who spent a lot of time on the phone with Dad planning the bicentennial parade: He talked so incessantly, Dad once put the phone in the freezer for 10 minutes.  When he took it out Herm Bly was still talking.

Phil > my neighborhood friend in grade school: Noted here in several ways, including for making his own ice cream

Nicky > my wonderful old faithful mutt

Whiskers > Phil’s dog:  One of the smartest animals I have ever known.

Daisy and Chrissie > our very bright rabbits

Julie and Liz > Our cousins the Gilligan’s (Mom’s side)

Mrs. Tibbits > the elderly woman who lived in our Park Road home alone before us

Danny Leary > another neighborhood friend (of Amy and Pat)

Dale > Jen’s husband

Emmett > our cousin (Mom’s side)

Paul Smits > an over-exuberant New Year’s Eve victim who temporarily found a place to pass out until he was discovered when my sister went to bed

Nancy > my beautiful wife

Monica > Joe’s wife

Kippy > Fred’s wife

Paul > Amy’s husband

Shannon:  My grandfather’s young golden retriever handed off to us.  She kept Nicky alive for an extra half decade I am sure

“Sucker in Lee” > Dad never wanted to conform to campground rules and celebrations, particularly at the trailer park in Lee, NH.  Some people took a while to accept this

“Bird Lady” > A colorful character on CB radio.  Amy and I ran with it


Definitions and Events (in chronological order):

“koya koya” > Jen’s tangled up torn and frayed pink and white tiny blanket

“The Cigarette Stool” > Fred, Jen, Joe and I named this stool after a round burn indentation in the seat, about the diameter of a quarter.  The story goes that Dad used a cigarette or cigar to intentionally put the mark there, which has never been substantiated

“Missy” > Uncle Bill used this nickname for Jen, but no one else did!

“The Ghost of Abel Gable” > A neighbor a few years older than us claimed to be this persona while crouched unseen outside the kitchen window while we ate

“Scuz  Cuts” > Whiffles/buzz cuts.  Usually me

“Jolly Cholly’s” > An amusement park, I believe in North Attleboro

“Bubble-heads” > a great video exists of one of these soapsuds episodes in the Mello’s pool.  I looked like Confucius

“Every Statue was Dad” > Dad used to claim the statues in town were all of him.  This claim did get me in trouble one time with a neighborhood bully

 “Joshua Brown” > A brilliant horror poem told in the dark to a bunch of us kids on Halloween as “body parts” were passed around (i.e. grapes for eyes):  Scared the daylights out of us

“Woon-sock-ayyy” > Woonsocket Rhode Island, where we would travel to on early weekend mornings for hockey at Mount Saint Charles.  Dad was never a big fan of Rhode Island in those days

“Boo Agway” > A hardware store Dad did accounting for early in his career.  When he switched to a competitor, we booed them every time we passed the building

“Rocky Woods” (Reservation) > in Medfield MA:  Annual family reunions (Moms side) were held there

“Bububububbit” > Dad’s unique style of belching

“Charlie on the MTA” > Fred, Phil and I put a nice skit together to this tune

“Apple Trees” > Amy and Cousin Linda had 2 baby apple trees planted in the yard named after them

“The Watergate” > Dad named our inflatable boat after this infamous Washington D.C. hotel break in

“Skittle Alley” > a kid game show hosted in Boston that we all appeared on

“Welick’s” > a very busy local restaurant Fred, Joe, and I all worked at

“The Penalty Box” > the area in the far back of our VW Bus

“Joe went hitchhiking” > ….with a straw hat and pants pulled up to his ears.  Our vacations were where Joe became the hilarious Joe we all know and love

 “Mi Grabisin grabone” > just a saying I made up and used when I had nothing in particular to add to the conversation.

“Scrubius Pip” > a great childhood storybook

“Oh Lamby” > when Joe and I landscaped for a summer, a pestering new homeowner repeated this line over and over to his pet poodle.  We ran with it.

“Jason” > we also ran with the lead character of the Friday the 13^th movies

“Best Man must make a list” > I was Jen and Dale’s Best Man, and so I came up with a list of my duties

“Plum Dandy!” > a store in Kennebunk, Maine:  Everything was purple.  We admired many of the items by exclaiming the stores name as we shopped: Too funny

“Lake Street” > Fred’s and my first owned home (in Waltham).  Later Nancy and I.

“Pete Steeves Open” > Dad’s annual golf tournament, all done in fun (and everybody got a trophy!).

“Grinch” > Jen hosted an annual Grinch-watching party the week before Christmas

“Amy singing” > Amy sang (in spellbound fashion) at all our weddings

“Big Mac La Fry La O” > While down south, a friend of Joe’s heard a local yokel order at the drive thru using this exact term.  Joe’s friend tried it after to see what would happen and received a Big Mac, large order of fries, and a large orange soda.  It was the hit saying at Joe and Monica’s wedding

“I’ve been hornswaggled” > another hit term we used frequently on a camping trip (it seems we had a hit term on every trip)

“Nancy dressed up as a clown” > the girls brought a clown suit for Nancy to wear around Boston for her Bachelorette party

“My face in a cake and then dancing around” > my bachelor party ended on a sweet note

“I love you guys” > Dale uttered this

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 37: “This Machine Kills Fascists”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “I’ve Known No War”
Album: It’s Hard
Release Date: September, 1982

Despite not releasing any new material in many years, the Who sounded like a well-oiled machine on their Y2K Tour.  The show at Great Woods in Mansfield, Massachusetts that summer was one of my all-time favorite Who shows; the band sounding crisp and honed, consisting of just the three surviving original members, Pete, Roger and John, along with Zak Starkey on drums, and John “Rabbit” Bundrick on keyboards; their most-thinned lineup since 1982.  It’s not often a band grabs you right out of the gate, but on that nite the Who would indeed do that,  hitting the ground running with “I Can’t Explain”, “Substitute”, and “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere”.  From there they would not take their foot off the peddle all the way through the final encore. 

In many ways the mid-70’s super-group Who was back, once again performing at levels that most other bands can only dream of.  I believe there were several reasons for this, starting with their Quadrophenia tour three years earlier, which brought back some of the old spark.  Pete Townshend and John Entwistle followed up on that tour with solo tours of their own in ’98 and ’99 respectively, which further conditioned them.  The biggest reason however for that throwback feel was Zak Starkey, who had raised his contributions to equal footing with the rest of the band, something neither Kenny Jones nor Simon Philips had in them.  For those of us who thought Keith Moon could never be replaced, we were pleasantly floored.  ** Side Note A: I do have to say in Jones’ and Philips’ defense that 1) the shows they played in were still quite potent and 2) the bar was extremely high. 

The best thing about the Who’s re-mastery of the stage was that there was an old/new air of authority about them, which I myself had never seen.  This supreme confidence proved to be of particular importance on October 20, 2001 when the Who performed at Madison Square Garden.  If the date doesn’t make a connection, please read on (although I welcome you to continue reading regardless!).

Few historical events in a lifetime are so extraordinary that they induce instant recall when reflected on.  Going back a generation or two before mine, I’m willing to bet there’s a fairly unanimous ability for Americans of those near bygone eras to nail down the time and place they were when they heard the news of Pearl Harbor, VJ Day, and JFK’s assassination.  Fifteen years ago this past Sunday, September 11, 2001, most of us had our first encounter with an event of this magnitude.  There was nothing even remotely comparable.  It shattered our sense of reality.  Life has not been quite the same since.

The days and weeks immediately following 9/11 were, to put it mildly, intense.  Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells.  Little flags decorated most cars in a display of patriotism.  Normally comedic talk show hosts were devoid of humor.  Days seemed dreary and nights felt darker than before.  Despite the efforts of Hollywood types, musicians, and political leaders it appeared nothing could be done to help us recover from what happened.  The country was in universal mourning and on the brink of despair.

At the same time, there was plenty of debate about how to respond to the attacks.  Case in point: I was driving down Rte. 128 later that fateful week, when I spotted a pickup truck with a large handmade banner in the flatbed reading “Kill All Arabs!”.  I looked over at the guy driving the car as I passed him by.  He stared at me as if to say “you got a problem with that?”.  It was a tough pill to swallow:  I was on the same team as this guy?

The experience got me thinking: 9/11 was horrible in so many ways, but as happens with all crises, it brought out either the best or worst in us.  What I really saw in that man was fear, and it was something I saw and heard from others in not so blatant ways over those weeks and months following the tragedy.  I admit to some of it myself.  But fear is a dangerous thing.  It stems from ignorance and often leads to vengeance and hatred.  Yes, there no doubt was a need for justice….but not hatred.  That’s what those who aimed the planes and coordinated the attack had in them.  To react in a similar manner would make us no better.  ** Side note # B: I once heard it said that the term ‘hate crime’, used by media types is a misnomer.  The suggested replacement:  ‘ignorance crime’.  I concur.

It’s difficult, but not impossible to rise above fear and loathing in such times.  The USA had done it before in its history.  Since the repercussions of 9/11 still linger to this day, I think it’s too soon to tell if we will do it again.  The country remains way too polarized:  Joe McCarthy-like finger pointing and mistrust is standard fodder on our airways.  Hopefully, rational, well meaning, peace loving minds will ultimately prevail.

Healing and unity were a long time coming after the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington D.C.  The first ray of light for me was a month later, when the aforementioned ‘Concert for New York’ took place.  Although professional in their performances, most of the acts, including Paul McCartney, David Bowie, Eric Clapton, Elton John, Billy Joel, John Mellencamp, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, were understandably not quite ready for the intensity of that period.  But The Who were.  Their four-song set (John Entwistle’s last show in North America) in front of the surviving first responders (who were taking up a majority of the first 20 or so rows) was exceptional, and the crowd reacted accordingly.  This point has to be emphasized for posterity, as rising to such an occasion is extremely unusual and not for the faint of heart. 

The Madison Square Garden crowd reaction to the Who’s four-song set was uplifting to those of us who watched on TV.  Once again, the music prevailed.  It seemed the healing had begun, but though the Who had initiated a certain positive strength that had not been seen at any point after 9/11; there was still a ways to go.  Several more months passed, and expectation of building on the Who’s spirit had yet to be capitalized on.

This brings me to football. 

Huh? 

Yes, football. 

First I need to rewind.  After a one week hiatus immediately following 9/11, the NFL kicked its schedule back into forward motion.  For New Englanders, the 2001 NFL season was to prove far from business as usual.  The Patriots, with a history more bizarre than the Bad News Bears, were climbing the ladder of success, led by an amazing coach, Bill Belichick, who ran a team that insisted on being introduced…. as a team.

After a great regular season run and two action packed playoff games (including the unforgettable ‘Snow Bowl’ game against the Raiders and the Troy Brown-dominated AFC Championship game against the Steelers), the Pats found themselves in the unlikeliest of places: The Super Bowl, against the heavily favored St. Louis Rams (“The Greatest Show on Turf”).  The Patriots surprised everyone, dominating most of the game.  The final score was not a true barometer of the lopsided play, with the Pats winning on a last second field goal.  Football’s ugly duckling reigned supreme! (much to the disgust of the powers-that-be).  ‘Team’ and ‘Unity’ were the key themes in this story.

But what was almost as memorable as the game itself (perhaps more memorable for those who were not fans of the Rams or the Pats) was the half-time show.  Most Super Bowl half-time shows up to that point were for the most part, forgettable, over dramatized events. 

Not this time. 

With the names of the September 11 victims scrolling on a Twin-Tower-like screen behind them, U2 performed “Where the Streets Have No Name” with all the emotion and passion a band can bring to the stage.  As the song reached its climax, the names listed on the screen collapsed in an eerie but powerful moment of flashback.  The performance was intense, classy, and unifying.  These 4 lads from Ireland hit all the right notes, showing their respect, admiration and solidarity for the United States in 11 short minutes (which included a second song ‘Beautiful Day’).  Strangely enough, an unlikely event (The Super Bowl) and an unlikely group (a band from another country), allowed us to emerge from darkness. At least that’s the way I felt. 

There’s a great old photo of Woody Guthrie with a guitar slung over his shoulder on which are written the words: “This Machine Kills Fascists”…..that’s what the Who and then U2 pulled off (not to mention the New England Patriots).  At the very least, they made democracy a little stronger. “Where the Streets Have No Name” is a song U2 have played at virtually every one of their shows since they penned it.  The song was written at the height of unrest in Northern Ireland, and envisions a Belfast where street signs do not distinguish Catholic streets from Protestant ones.  It’s a song that tries to break down prejudice-centric barriers between people.  Love thy neighbor.

After the Super Bowl, Bob Kraft, the Pats owner, said to the crowd “We are all Patriots here”.  One pundit rhetorically posed the question: “What if the Rams had won?  Would their owner have stated ‘We are all Goats here’?”

I guess even the wonderfully warped American sense of humor started making a comeback around that time too.

As for the Who, well, for many of us they were the first to have us stepping out of that proverbial underground bunker into daylight.  Those were indeed scary times, giving all of us who were too young to experience World War II a tiny sense for the intensity of a war-strewn world.  Pete Townshend actually wrote a song about this very notion for the Who in 1982: “I’ve Known No War” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5RJznEO5xo).  Little did he know how it would play out 20 years later.

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 36: “Eye Opening Experiences”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Bargain”
Album: Who’s Next
Release Date: August, 1971

I’m not much of a drummer guy:  Most of the time I cannot distinguish average from very good (sorry, Stuart Copeland, Neil Peart, Jim Keltner, and good friends Pete and Jeff).   But Keith Moon was so unusually good that he broke through that mental barrier of mine.  I suppose his drumming equates to reading Shakespeare, or watching Bobby Orr or Charlie Chaplin:  Some individuals just stand out, no matter how ambivalent you may be in regards to their profession. Moon was one of them.

Keith Moon was so mesmerizingly unique, that the camera would inevitably be drawn to him, despite the fact that each of his band mates matched his amazing showmanship.  Cameras rarely get drawn to the drummer and for it to happen in a band like The Who made his drawing power even more implausible. As the title of this series infers, The Who were like a 4-ring circus, often competing with one another for center stage.  I’ve never seen this in any other band.  Nobody comes close, as with most bands it’s one, maybe two individuals that demand all the attention.  What Moon did more than anything though, was he took a very good band and made it an exceptional band. 

In appreciation of ‘Moon the Loon’ and his amazing abilities as a percussionist, I’ve decided with this entry to reflect on a number of the eye opening experiences I’ve had in my life and the people who initiated them, many of whom I’ve knows personally, but others like Moon, whom I have not.  I’d like to think these reflections contribute to the general overall focus of this blog site, which is to expound on what it was like to be a kid who grew up in the 70s and then went on to take that experience into his adulthood.  In other words, a number of experiences listed below are of the period-piece variety (my period piece). 

First however, I would be remiss to delve into these enlightening individuals without acknowledging the overarching reasons for why I am even able to connect with such a broad range of experiences; those reasons being Mom, Dad, Nancy, my family and friends, and of course the Lord above.  Their hands are in all of this!  With that said, here goes:

Faith:  My Aunt Ginger, aka Sister Virginia Smith.  Many of us are a bit confused with our Faith as young adults.  I believe Ginger was always aware of this.  When I worked a college-year summer as a landscaper at the Dominican Center in Plainville, Massachusetts where my Aunt planned adult retreats, we would sit together for lunch and have deep discussions about our lives.  During these conversations Ginger weaved in the importance of faith into most any topic.  What really lured me in though was my aunt’s fascination in my input, which came through in a very real and loving way.

Geography: My eyes were opened to my God-given ability to navigate the world when Dad saw this talent in me while we were on family road trips, and in turn would have me map out ways to get him from Point A to Point B (I particularly remember connecting the dots on rural roads between Toronto and Ottawa at the age of 17).  This seed eventually lead to my career as a GIS Specialist in the US Geological Survey, a job I feel blessed to have landed.  We all have natural abilities, so difficult to tease out in this day and age.  Native Americans would recognize these abilities (i.e. scout, hunter, tracker, animal interpreter, medicine man) in their children however, because they all grew up in the natural world.  Dad (and very likely Mom too) overcame my less-than-complete natural environment (and theirs) to somehow recognize the geographer in me.

History: Dad again, who nurtured my interest in American History with books and magazine subscriptions (Smithsonian for example).  Also friend John Roche, who was as avid of a World War II buff as I was.  Dr. Dan Connerton was my favorite history teacher in North Adams (History was my major).  He brought out the best in my ability to think independently and in turn write a good essay when called upon (if I must say so myself). 

Rock and Roll:  Believe it or not, it started with Mom and Dad and their purchase of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper and compilation Red and Blue albums. Later, great friend Mac opened my eyes to the deeper-cut Beatles records and then helped me to see Rock and Roll talent beyond them (which was just as important).  Mac is also my concert-attendance soul mate.  Good friend and former colleague Jeff Strause broadened my horizons in music as well, most significantly in the folk scene.

Competitive Spirit: I have always been competitive, but great-friend Dave raised that bar a few notches.  For several years in my early 20s it was all about challenge, be it in a game of Risk, Stratego, ping pong, pool, darts, or any number of card games.  Dave was a formidable adversary, routinely standing strong between me and victory in all these battles. 

The Natural World: Again Dad, pointing out Praying Mantises, Lady Slippers, and any other number of natural wonders while on hikes down the train tracks and other locales in Franklin when I was young.  Today I’d have to include my fellow water-quality volunteer, Suzanna Black, an avid plant identifier and bird-call specialist.  In terms of the professional naturalist: Natural History Magazine was a great read for many years and I believe it was due to the contributions of Stephen Jay Gould, who wrote 300 essays in its pages.  Gould’s musings were deep enough to challenge me, but not so deep as to lose me.  I’d also like to recognize here the writings of E.O. Wilson and the naturalist documentaries of David Attenborough. 

Taxonomy:  Mr. Wilk, my seventh-grade science teacher opened my mind up to the amazing diversity of animal life on the planet.  The Phylum level was what intrigued me the most, particularly the notion that most of the animals we are familiar with, vertebrates like us (fish, mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians) are classified in but one of over 30 animal phylums and that the vast diversity of this life is in the ocean.  Mr. Wilk was the first teacher I ever had who came across as truly fascinated in what he was telling his students.  He’s the only teacher I ever stayed after school for to learn more.  Taxonomic classification continues to intrigue me, most recently through a hobby of photographing animals, plants and fungi in their natural habitat, identifying them, and recording it all in a homemade database. 

Programming: Former USGS colleague (and friend) Saiping, who showed me how writing code can enhance computer analysis and applications.  Later I would get pretty adept at cursors and ‘do loops’ and map algebra code and any number of other functions and directives, which sent my career in directions not possible otherwise. 

Batting in Baseball:  Friend Bruce Nicholson was an incredible athlete and our pick-up games of baseball were a great way for him to showcase his talent.  Bruce routinely hit balls over the fence at Dean Junior College (in this case the fence was a tennis court) and he could do this both as a lefty and righty.  In terms of professional baseball, Manny Ramirez certainly was eye opening.  Yes, I had observed many-a-great batters before Ramirez, including Carleton Fisk, Dwight Evans, Jim Rice, and Fred Lynn (particularly his astounding productivity in his rookie year).   But Manny Ramirez connected me with Dad’s musings of watching Ted Williams at the plate:  I finally got a chance to see what he was talking about.

Bass Guitar: Well, this is what makes the Who so special.  Not only did they open my eyes to the drums, but they did this as well with the bass.  If you become a Who fan, it’s just a matter of time before you recognize the incredible virtuosity of John Entwistle. Unlike the drums where I have not gained much insight beyond Keith Moon, I did go on from Entwistle to then be able to connect with great bass sounds produced by others including Paul McCartney, Bill Wyman, and Mike Mills.  But John Entwistle remains in a class by himself and he alone has inspired me to pick up the instrument.

Coaching:  In all the sports I played I unfortunately never had a great coach.  It wasn’t until Bill Belichick coached the Patriots that I got to see just how important this role could be (though I must say, Don Cherry intrigued me, but it was more related to his colorful personality than his actual coaching prowess).  When Belichick called for an intentional safety near the end of a 2003 game against the Denver Broncos (I recall getting why he was doing this before anyone else at the bar) I knew from then on he was playing chess when all other coaches were playing checkers.  Belichick is the main reason why it’s been so much fun being a Patriots fan for the past 15 years, despite his stoic nature (which I actually get a kick out of).

Football Player: Troy Brown was a tremendously versatile football player who should be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.  Like Manny Ramirez in hitting, Brown gave me insight into the extraordinary potential of a wide receiver.   Troy Brown was also a great punt returner and played cornerback.  Most important however, Brown was a smart heads up player (I recall him immediately trying to signal safety to the referees after the famous Ben Watson rundown and strip of Champ Baily in 2006 playoffs) and like Tom Brady, he played his best at the most crucial of times. 

Basketball Player:  Larry Bird was a man among boys.  And my goodness was he ever confident.  Does anyone recall his asking the other All Star 3-Point Competition players (ahead of time) which one of them was going to come in second?  Does anyone recall him telling Kevin McHale, after the latter scored a then Celtic record 56 points that he should have gotten 60 (Bird then went on to score 60 three nights later!)? Bird made you laugh out loud with some of the things he pulled off while on the court, especially with the game on the line.  Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan will always get more of the glory for their particular brand of artistry.  But make no mistake that despite being contemporaries; they learned from Bird what it took to be a winner. Lately I’ve been most inspired watching my son Peter play basketball at the high-school level. 

Running: Nancy is my inspiration here.  When we first dated I got to cheer her on at several road races and soon got the bug myself.  I ran off and on for years before finally committing to a 4 mile run every other day, which I have religiously stuck with for seven years now.  I got many of my original “Gem Video” blog ideas while running back in 2007, and continue to get light-bulb moments on my runs today (particularly during the toughest hill stretches).

Hiking:  Yup, Dad again.  Dad in turn credits Uncle Jim (Mom’s brother) who opened his eyes to the wonders of hiking Mount Washington and the other White Mountain High Peaks.  I’ve conquered many-a-mountain since those early years of hiking as a teen with Dad.  The enjoyment of it is a rare all-family bond activity with Peter, Charlotte, Nancy and I.

Painting:  Daughter Charlotte brings canvas to life!  I recall a colleague at work chuckling at one of her 3^rd grade works on my office wall:  A proud Dad and nothing more he surmised.  He could not have been more wrong.  I saw something early on, which is quite unlike me when it comes to the arts.  Like Pete Townshend, Charlotte is her own worst critic (a fellow tortured artist), despite the accolades she receives, including from those in the profession (she has never shown interest in making it a career herself however).  My favorite painting of Charlotte’s is of the tree house I built here in Pepperell (see below).  

Canada: This one I credit Mom for.  Mom’s lunch-time reflections of her Dad’s upbringing in Prince Edward Island were fascinating to me.  Canada was a dreamscape for me as a child and our forays to Ontario and Quebec later in my teen years were always rewarding, eventually leading to a Junior-year (exchange program) life-changing experience in Ottawa and innumerable excursions North of the border ever since. 

Camping: Nancy again.  One great thing about camping is the versatility it gives you on the road:  Usually there is no need to plan a destination ahead and so you can travel at your leisure, or deviate from the original intended path (which we did often on our Great Lakes, Newfoundland, and Cross Country trips).  The best thing about camping however has been seeing how it has made Peter and Charlotte such naturals in the woods. 

Back Packing:  Great friend Bob asked me to join him on backpack trip across Europe in the summer of ’86.  Europe was the continent of Bob’s upbringing and so I got the insiders view (which I would later fill Nancy in on during our follow-up trip in ’89).  Often at the end of long adventurous days, when I took that back pack off, I felt as if I could walk on air.

Wine:  I was strictly a beer consumer until Bob took me to the Bordeaux region of France.  We explored the wine cellars, purchased several bottles of the local red (along with bread and cheese) and climbed into a tower on the edge of a vineyard.  Somehow, the first sip was instant karma.

Hockey Player: Well, it goes without saying that Bobby Orr was the best I ever saw, but when I was at my best at understanding the game of hockey in the late 70s, the player who impressed me the most was Don Marcotte.  Today you could equate the play of Patrice Bergeron to Marcotte’s style, which is classic two-way hockey.  The Bruins did not have nearly the talent of the Montreal Canadians in those days, but it was that two-way team style, epitomized by Marcotte, that almost put the B’s over the top. 

River Systems: Long-standing colleague and friend Kernell is the inspiration here.  Early in my career at USGS, Kernell gave me a new way of looking at the landscape, not as one being broken up by roads, cities and political boundaries (states, towns, etc.), but one broken up by watersheds.  From there it was a progression of thought to the river systems within those watersheds; a headwaters-to-outlet view of the world (think a dendritic pattern like the silhouette of a tree).   Rivers soon became my favorite natural feature (see Big Top # 13).

The World Cup:  Friend Bob again.  We back-packed Europe together in ’86 and I got to see passion for sport in a way I had never experienced before or since.  We were always in the right place at the right time, including Denmark and Belgium for dramatic victories by the home teams.  The streets were filled with revelers that summer and televisions were often set up outside of pubs and cafes for anyone to stop and catch a moment of action.  Since then I’ve been hooked every four years.

Tide Pools: Cousin Peter Mello would always bring his buckets, nets and goggles on our treks to the beach when we were boys.  A quick swim would soon enough be followed by a short walk over to the tide pools, where we would spend the rest of our day exploring.  I marveled at the varieties of creatures, including shrimp, hermit crabs, jellies, sea stars, sand dollars, chitons, green crabs, mole crabs, lady crabs, rock crabs, spider crabs, eels, and varieties of fish.

Tree Houses: hmmm, this is a hard one.  Swiss Family Robinson?  Nahh…. not so much as childhood fascination in general.  I think I’ll take credit for this one. Eleven years ago I designed and built a tree house in the back yard that remains intact to this day (despite a neighbor’s prediction it would come tumbling down with the first wind storm).  It is one of my all-time favorite personal creations, as it took some ingenuity pull it off (with only branchless pine trees to work with, I had to come up with a design of moving parts on moving parts).  Again, Charlotte’s painting of the structure is below.


Logical Thinking: This goes back to a very young age, watching my brother Fred take care of his red tractor, along with witnessing his ability to build small toy car models from a variety of moving parts at our grandparents home in Falmouth (quicker and more inventive than the rest of us).  Fred's abilities have played out to the present day, be they manifested in carpentry or other types of construction, or by comprehending complex instructions to build most anything.  In turn I've been inspired to take on my own projects:  Rock walls, a wood shed, a large shed, a bench, along with assisting my Father-in-Law (who was another later inspiration in regards to logical thinking) to add an addition to my old home.

Homemade Fish Ponds:  Friend Bob’s ex-in-laws.  The wedding-rehearsal gathering in their back yard in Breda, Amsterdam was illuminating.  I could see that a focus on a natural wooded setting for your yard was a valid alternative from the standard, manicured lawn-encompassing setting.


Bridging Presumably-Disparate Worlds:  After we went off to college, childhood friend Mac bonded with my friends from North Adams and Canada, proving that you do not have to leave your youth behind when you move on in life.  Mac eventually proved to be the gage in determining if a new friend was a true friend (that is, if they could connect with Mac they had what it took).  Where Mac represents this bullet from a quantitative standpoint, cousin Becca and long-time friend Dave represent the ultimate bridge, meeting on a road trip to Canada that I pulled together and later getting married (see Big Top # 31).

** Everyone I am close to has brought something special and unique into my life, and so I consider this entry an open file, which I plan to add to after this Big Top series is over:  Maybe one per week thru 2017.

I was going to hold out with the majestic Who’s Next tune “Bargain” for a more spiritually-centered entry.  After all, this song is about Pete Townshend’s relationship with God.  But then I thought, ‘well hey, doesn’t the music speak for itself?’  The entire band seems touched by an angel.  Townshend’s guitar sound near the end is transcendent. John Entwistle’s midriff bass lines are complex and fluid.  Roger Daltrey’s vocals sound newly born.  And this may be Keith Moon’s best studio effort.  Was it all spurred by the beauty of the meaning?  I for one believe this to be the case (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyv_65o1HDY).

The lyrics to “Bargain” include the classic line “In life, one and one don’t make two; one and one make one”.  These words are the bond of this entry.  After all, do not our inspirations tie us with those who inspire?

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 35: “Transition”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Outlive the Dinosaur”
Album: Psychoderelict
Release Date: June, 1993

It’s hard to absorb, but over the past 25 years, there have been only two full-fledged original studio albums behind which Pete Townshend was the creative spark.  The most recent was Endless Wire, the Who’s 11th original disc, which was released in 2006.  Before that, you have to go all the way back to 1993 and Townshend’s last solo album (to date….one can only hope); the sturdy, ambitious Psychoderelict.  That concept album was a failure in terms of record sales, not quite breaking the 200,000 mark upon release (the record company was anticipating 5 million in sales), and ultimately leading to Townshend’s decision to pull the plug on his solo-record contract and pretty much call it quits (which again remains the case to this day).  ** Side Note: from his own accounts, Pete Townshend continues to be prolific in writing and recording music in his home studio, he has just not released much of it.

I’d had fellow fans of Pete Townshend’s music (both solo and with the Who) to turn to for feedback my whole young life to that point, but when Psychoderelict came out, I felt that I was on my own for the first time.  Nobody I knew got into this album at all.  I recall raving about the first single “English Boy” to my brother Joe, and sensing ambivalence.  Others seemed stuck in the past:  Fellow Who-crazed friend Kurt was never really a Townshend-solo guy in the first place, but in the decade leading up to 1993 that was all you were going to get.  And on the theatrical tour that supported the Psychoderelict concept, I suffered the ignominy of listening to good friend Bouv shout out for older material during the performance of the new stuff. 

Psychoderelict was unique, but not that unique.  The music itself was sound, arguably Townshend’s most even-keeled effort since 1980’s Empty Glass.  No, there was something else going on with all the indifference, something more overarching, and I was beginning to realize that at least some of it had to do with the fact that many of us were moving on in our lives.  Transition was all around me.  Children were entering the picture.  Careers were being established. Expectations were being altered.  Personally, I was a year into my 30s and in another year I would be anticipating the birth of my first child.  Life was getting serious.  In comparison, what was the big deal with another Pete Townshend album anyway?  There was a strong sense that everyone was putting the Rock and Roll world behind them, at least at the level of intensity we had been accustomed to when it came to the excitement generated upon the new release from a top-tier talent. 

Don’t get me wrong… I can fully understand these developments:  It’s all an important part of what life is all about.  But still, it was a hard pill to swallow at the time.  There are interesting periods in our lives where we have to weigh our practical selves against our creative, artistic selves.  This was one of those periods.  For me this clash of thinking has always posed questions: What do you do to adapt to societies norms while at the same time try and maintain a spirit of cutting-edge imagination?  What do you do to be a breadwinner in a job market of restricted options, while at the same time maintain your integrity?  How do you keep an open mind in a sea of conformity that is often ready to marginalize us unless we go along with the majority ways of thinking?

This just happened to be the initial dilemma facing the Psychoderelict lead character, Ray High (a combination/twist on Ray Davies and Nick Lowe’s namesakes to honor their deep-thinking reputation as British Rock musicians; a trait Townshend succeeded to emulate in the Ray High character).  Perhaps the album and its concepts were a big reason for my feeling the way I did at the time (but if so I did not make that connection right off since the concept was initially of less interest to me than the music itself).  Anyhow as the story unfolds, Ray High confronts his post-stardom reclusiveness after his manager tells him he’s matured (“I’m not mature, I’m just derelict!” High retorts, hence the album’s title).  From there it’s a myriad of the same middle-aged emotions many of us grapple with.  Yes, in typically insightful fashion, Pete Townshend was once again relating to his audience’s emotions by connecting with where we were at that stage in our lives.

What emotions you ask?  Well, there’s “I Am Afraid”, which soberly confronts our inability to change even when we know the effect of our lifestyle is not good for those around us (in an interview years after the release of Psychoderelict discussing this song, Townshend used the example of how he enabled Keith Moon’s self-destructive behavior despite feeling a strong sense that his life-of-the-party bandmate was not long for this world.  He also has discussed the song in the context of the effect we have on our children when we raise them during a period of self-abuse).  There’s “English Boy”, which is about the negative effect we can have when we point fingers at other easy targets (in this case older Brits calling out the younger generation of boys) when it’s more appropriate to look in the mirror.  “Let’s Get Pretentious” is about the importance of taking risks, even in the face of ridicule.  “Early Morning Dreams” tackles how difficult it is (if not impossible) to go back to something we started (and abandoned) at a younger age, in the hope of giving it new life.  “Now and Then” on the surface appears to be about falling in love with someone you just met, but a deeper meaning is the ruinous effect that cheating can have on your family.  Underlying it all is the effect of fast paced change in the modern world.

All heady stuff and it pointed me to another related reason why Psychoderelict did not make as big of a splash as had been hoped:  This was the first album in Pete Townshend’s career that was virtually devoid of innocence.  Yes, Townshend had always been serious, but that often came with a sense that what he was experiencing was fairly new to him.  In Psychoderelict, it was clear that this man had been around the block a few times.  Those of us who were willing to weave through this sad but familiar reality were in a position to conclude that at least Pete Townshend was not afraid to admit it.  And so we could relate more to his post-release comments about what he was really searching for in this album:  A core truth that Townshend felt was insidiously vulnerable in that aforementioned new age of rapid change and access, personified in the internet.

I believe we all look for innocent, fresh thoughts in the artists we turn to.  It’s invigorating and hopeful.  When a musician gets heavier and heavier in their lyrics, they risk losing all but their most empathetic audience (Bob Dylan being a rare exception).  But there is no other option for a true artist:  They have to follow the truth!  Otherwise they lose their artistic creativity.  In the end, it’s more important to avoid at all costs losing your artistry than to lose your audience.  Pete Townshend has always made the right choice in this regard; often at the expense of his own dignity (which is the key reason why I find his music so appealing).  And he has followed that path to the present, in the end (at least up until now) acknowledging that when the response became placid, it was time to internalize. 

A lot of big ideas are fleshed out in Psychoderelict.  The basic premise revolves around the stereotypical personality traits of the three primary characters; 1) the already-discussed serious musician Ray High 2) his shallow, money-grubbing (albeit loyal) manager, Rastus, and 3) Ruth Streeting, a confrontational DJ who is an outspoken critic of High.  These three characters never sing, rather they narrate in the middle of and between songs (much like Neil Young’s Greendale tour which came later, actors played their parts on stage during the tour that followed the album’s release, which was intriguing to watch).  Ray High is ‘tricked’ by Streeting into coming out of semi-retirement in order to help a young artist who writes to him for guidance (in actuality it’s Streeting in disguise).  Interspersed throughout the story are reflections into Ray High’s earlier aborted opus, Grid Life, which was never released because it was too ambitious for anyone but the author to get (this is where the internet angle gets fleshed out some).  Similarities to Townshend’s Lifehouse failure (see Big Top # 7) are unmistakable (some of that music is used) but the depth and complexity of the Psychoderelict concept overcome this otherwise eyebrow-raising obvious connection. 

A minor negative aspect of Pete Townshend’s legacy will likely be his at-times-failed attempts to conquer the grandiose.  Townshend can tend to stick with something BIG and personally interesting until either he masters it or it masters him.  One thing I’ve learned in my middle-age is that people are more fascinated with who you are than what you are interested in.  In other words, what got you to who you are is of less interest to your loved ones than where it got you.  Friends and family like the results more than the path to those results.  This is what keeps us humble.  It’s all good. 

Psychoderelict may have been that reality check for Pete Townshend (although the concept gives you the odd sense he knew it all along).  If it was his last solo effort, it was apropos though; a multi-tiered thinking man’s rock album.  Ideas hit you on the first listen and then new ones hit you on the second listen, and so on.  Isn’t that what great music is supposed to be all about? 

I close this entry with this week’s inspirational song source: “Outlive the Dinosaur” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUyPnh7jMNw).  To me, this tune is a clarification of one of Townshend’s most renowned anthems: “I hope I die before I get old” from “My Generation”.  These lyrics have always been misinterpreted as old age associated with a number.   Are we old when we are 60? 70? 80?  The real meaning is not age per se.  It’s about staying one step ahead of the demon dinosaur in us all.  And we can only conquer it by staying honest to ourselves.  Pete Townshend has made it into his 70s.  Some would think that in doing so he failed that early anthem. Those of us who have listened to his music through to today, including Pschoderelict, know different.

- Pete