(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “High Water (for
Charley Patton)”
Album: “Love and Theft”
Release Date: September
2011
One of my favorite sketches on Saturday
Night Live was back in the late 70s, when Don Novello would don priestly garb
and morph into the fictional character Father Guido Sarducci, employed as the
gossip columnist for the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore
Romano (this in and of itself is a hilarious thought). Sarducci poked fun
at the Catholic Church, but in an enchanting way that often allowed for more
than a hint of respect, and even reverence. One of his best skits was when he
explained what it takes to be deemed worthy for sainthood by the Holy See, one
criteria of which was that you needed to have performed at least 3 miracles to even
be considered. He went on, in his
classic straight-faced way, to complain of a European bias (particularly Italy)
stating that in other parts of the world, someone can perform 10, 20 miracles
and be ignored, where in Europe you perform just one miracle… “and they wave the other 2 miracles”. Funny stuff.
Other than learning of Jesus’ life in the
catechism classes of my youth, this was my bizarre introduction to the concept
of miracles, in terms of really thinking about it. “Miracle” is defined in the dictionary as “a
surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific
laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency”. Do you believe in miracles? I do.
I started to - from a grown up, analytical point of view - around the time of watching that Father Guido Sarducci
skit. Such a strange way to start believing
in miracles, huh? At the time, I began thinking along the lines of ‘well, if
someone is true to their belief system, and if they are spiritually
enlightened, they can do things that are indeed inexplicable’.
Now, I very much wish I could go all wiggy
here and write about miracles that have happened in my life, but I can’t
because those top tier miraculous moments have been elusive to date. However, I have gotten little tastes of it
here and there; mini-miracles so to speak.
Hard to explain phenomenon. Amazing
experiences. Happenings. I’m sure everybody reading this has too. I mean, life can be incredible at times, can
it not? We can all relate to this, be it
in the context of love, prayer, dreams, coincidences, déjà vu, nature, travel, you
name it. I’ve learned over the years
that if you are attentive to these possibilities, great things can happen.
This year I’ve been zoned into these types
of experiences at an accelerated rate, and I credit this Blue Print series. I’m
sure that my reflecting and writing, as well as the intensity of listening to
Bob Dylan’s music, have been what has made me more tuned to them (I’ll also
credit some of the great feedback I’ve received from you all). This week was up there on the
bizzaro-meter. What follows are a few 'telltale'
examples.
Wednesday night (11/28) I attended a
fantastic Joan Osborne concert at the Wilbur Theatre in Boston with my great
friend, Mac. The show was a tribute to
Bob Dylan, and his songs were all that Osborne and her band performed that
evening. They tackled an incredible
diversity of Dylan’s music, including highlights “Maggie’s Farm”, “Ring Them
Bells”, and an intense extended jam of the tragic tale “Ballad of Hollis Brown”
(proving to me that this singer and her band were serious).
For me the best head-shaking experience of the
evening was when, between songs, Joan Osborne talked about the 2001 Bob Dylan
album “Love and Theft”, which she
stated has had a tremendous effect on her.
I was sitting there thinking ‘ok, very cool…. not a highly recognized
Dylan album in terms of covers, but that’s the disc I’ve homed in on this
week’. I had bounced all over the place
with a Blue Print song selection from it, each of the 12 being as magnificent
as the other. Earlier that day - the day
of Joan Osborne’s show - I’d finally made the decision, “High Water (for
Charley Patton): ” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fdqF4XIUsE
). And
wouldn’t ya know it; that was the song she announced, and then performed with
passion. It was my favorite song of the
show, partly because I’d felt I had made some sort of inexplicable connection
with Osborne. I consider that a
Happening. I'm sure anyone who has attended concerts routinely over the years can understand what I mean.
There was another bizarre moment Wednesday
night; I got to see Bob Dylan disappear... for the second time in a week!
This one obviously needs more detailed explanation than usual. I'll tackle the first event first, which many others saw too; no real shock here. So, I’ve recently found out that Dylan has a
reputation for vanishing in crowds. I’m not surprised, seeing as I can relate (personal
vanishing acts for another time). And, as
Wade Boggs once stated when being attacked by a knife-wielding antagonist (ok,
his wife), sometimes you just gotta “will yourself invisible”. Anyhow, I was reading about this Dylan alchemy
in Sam Shepard’s mercurial The Rolling
Thunder Logbook over the prior weekend.
At the very same time, I had the T.V. blaring and an ad for that night’s
The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon came
on, which to my pleasant surprise, was going to include a rare Bob Dylan appearance. Would it be an interview? A performance? I could not determine. I stayed up and, sure
enough there was a Dylan moment – a skit - which fascinatingly included a
vanishing act: ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0hxHE_UK6Q ). (Side Note: The link is worth a watch. It’s short and sweet. Also note, I was particularly impressed by
the steadiness in that 77-year-old hand as Dylan poured and drank whiskey with
Fallon).
Flash forward several days back to that Joan
Osborne show. This guy is sitting in the
front row and I’m telling you, he’s a spitting image of Bob Dylan: Curly puffed
hair, wiry in mannerism and the way he walks, slender, dressed in classy, star
studded garb. Face, nose, everything. I
spotted him right off and joked with Mac that the band hired this Dylan clone
to sit there, who was nodding in appreciation to most every song. So, there’s a break in the action, just
before intermission, and I seize the moment to head down to the restroom before
the crowd. Mac takes the initiative as
well. The two of us are there in the men’s
room, no one else around, when, wouldn’t you know it, the Bob Dylan clone
strolls in and ponies up at the 3rd urinal. This was too good to be true. I made a comment about having the opportunity
to take a leak with Bob. I thought I spotted
a smirk. Then, we all head back up to
the main event, but this guy makes a beeline outside. It ends up he would be gone for the
night. I just caught him out of the
corner of my eye as he maneuvered out the venue. Vamoose! “I’m Not There” folks; “I’m Not
There”!
This kinda thing has been happening to me
all year, from Big Pink, to Hibbing to Albuquerque, to Baltimore, to my commutes
to and from work, to my weekend activities at home. The blog stories are coming
to me now too. Several months ago, I was concerned about inspiration and fresh
ideas, but not anymore. Things are rolling in at a quick pace. Carrying on this Happening theme: After finishing Sam Shepard’s book, I picked
up the thought-provoking Robert M. Pirsig’s book Lila: An Inquiry into Morals, which was the long-awaited sequel to
his master work Zen and the Art of
Motorcycle Maintenance.
I’m still early into Lila, which, as stated in the title, is a tale woven around the
concept of morality (where Zen is
woven around the concept of quality).
One of the narratives that Pirsig introduces early in the book relates
to how modern American culture is a blending of Native American and European
values, personified in the Midwesterner.
American’s who live in that region of the country have shared
experiences with Native American people the most. All of this, Pirsig argues, has played out in
our attitudes toward Europe and in our politics, to this day.
I would not do justice to explaining this
further other than to suggest you read the book. What I will state however, is that this
Pirsig narrative had me harkening back to my most recent blog entry before this
one (Blueprint # 43); that cowboy-hat-wearing escapade of mine with my wife
Nancy to Big Bend National Park in Texas many years ago. In that entry I suggested that, in wearing
the hat, I was in search of an America that once was, or maybe never was.
Sometimes you just reach a point reading a
book where your mind begins to wander way too much. Obviously, I’d reached that
point as these thoughts floated in several nights back, so I closed the book,
turned off the night light and reflected on all this. Suddenly what came to mind was how I met
Nancy; at a Halloween party. She was
dressed as a Native American woman! The
cowboy hat, the quest, the Pirsig insights. It all dovetailed in that
moment. This was a beautiful thing I
thought: Modern American culture as a
blending of Native American and European values transitioned to a personal
analogy of marriage as a blending of two individual’s values. I would never have pulled this thought
process together without having written that blog entry last week. Another Happening is my conclusion. And what’s more fascinating is that this value-system
all played out wonderfully on a road trip Nancy and I took this weekend to
Asbury Park and Greenwich Village (the 3rd and final Dylan
pilgrimage of my Dylan year). I’ll have
to save the elucidation on that one for next week, seeing as it’s in need of a
blog entry all its own.
I’d like to close with some thoughts
related to the album “Love and Theft”,
as well as this week’s Blueprint from it: “High Water (for Charley Patton)”. If any album epitomizes Bob Dylan’s sleight
of hand, it should be “Love and Theft”. The Dylan look-alike who vanished into the
night air halfway through the Joan Osborne set on Wednesday, as well as the
real Bob Dylan’s escapades on The Tonight
Show last weekend, pretty much sums up the effect of this album. Dylan produced it under his pseudonym ‘Jack
Frost’. He also released a cool little
commercial for it with card shark Ricky Jay ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRo3r8g-w30 ). It all
fits, including the lyrics to every song.
When I first heard “Love and Theft” I was not overly impressed. It sounded like an old-timer album to
me. Images of a late career, overweight BB
King sitting on a bar stool danced in my head.
I simply was not ready for that type of sound back in my early 40s. Not
enough high water under the bridge I suppose. It took a while, but I’m certainly all the way
there now. I wrote about “Mississippi”
way back in Master Blueprint # 2, one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs of all
time. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum” has
been climbing my personal fav ladder too, as has “Po’ Boy”. “Things Have Changed”, a song not on the
album, but a prelude to its attitude, is also extraordinary ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9EKqQWPjyo ). I’d love to
figure a way to do a writeup on that one.
Side Note: Has anyone else out there tuned into the ominous hissing
sound that rears its head off and on during “Tweedle
Dee and Tweedle Dum”. It sounds like
either 1) someone breathing through his teeth to convey anxiety 2) a balloon deflating
and/or 3) a snake hissing. One place you
can hear it is at the beginning of the 8th verse while Bob Dylan
sings the line “Tweedle Dee’s on his
hands and knees”.
And now “High Water (for Charlie Patton)”
has seeped its way deep into my inner consciousness. The song is loosely about the Great
Mississippi Flood of 1927 (as well as an ode to one of the original bluesman,
Charlie Patton), but more to the point it’s about sin and redemption. Most of the song drags the protagonist down
into those nasty proverbial floodwaters.
But in the end, there’s some hope for this lost soul. Yessiree, Bob, everyone, there’s always a
little room for redemption.
Larry Campbell plays an incredibly authentic
banjo on “High Water”. It sounds as if
he were channeling a far distant Blues period.
I connected briefly with Campbell earlier this year after catching one
of his shows (with Teresa Williams) at the Bull Run in Shirley
Massachusetts. I pulled out an inner
sleeve album photo of him playing poker on the tour bus, sitting next to Bob Dylan,
who appeared to be raking in the chips (it occurred to me just before the show
to bring it in from my car). I asked Larry
Campbell what he may have been thinking at that moment. He laughed and said, “I can’t tell you”. This was the perfect reply, all that mystique
still intact: Sleight of hand, vanishing acts, cowboy hats. Happenings cropping up all around him at a
torrid pace; too fast to make sense of.
Yeah, after the past week, I’m not ruling
out anything.
- Pete
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Master Blueprints # 43: "Strange How People Who Suffer Together Have More Connections Than People Who Are Most Content”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “Brownsville Girl”
Album: Knocked Out Loaded
Release Date: July 1986
The below was written in the spirit of Bob Dylan’s (and Sam Shepard’s) majestic “Brownsville Girl” ( https://vimeo.com/183524348 ):
Well there was this cowboy hat I wore one time
On a ’93 trip across Western Texas, which I borrowed from my Dad
Who purchased it 8 years earlier at the Boston College-won Cotton Bowl in Dallas
I’ve never worn a Stetson before or since; it was a very short-term fad
Well, Dad wore that cowboy hat through the winter and spring of ‘85
The funny thing about it was, we live in Massachusetts, far from cattle country
Another strange twist was that Dad never really could care less about cowboys
This all influenced me; respect, curiosity, and the leaf never too far from the tree
Well, I keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in
Leaving high water marks in its wake; memories that don’t decay
She’s driving with me from San Anton’ toward Mexico and the Rio Grande
Hot springs, roadrunners, pronghorn, canyons; the beauty makes it feel as if yesterday
I can still remember that first border town of Del Rio not far upstream of Brownsville
We were on our own now, and feeling the freedom of the road
That river was flowing, that city was vibrant, that bridge was teaming with people
This was different for us, but we believed in each other, it showed
Well we drove that car all day, up the Rio Grande, and into Big Bend National Park
All the while thinkin’ back on the week, your cousin, aunt, uncle, and the Alamo
You were in your element there, family oh so important
You carried that forward with a flair, a smile and a glow
Well, we’re driving this car and we are stalled by the crossing of peccaries
But now my mind is blown away, we are indeed in a different world
And I’m mesmerized by you, the night, the stars, the desert,
the looming Chisos Mountains just waiting to be explored
Big Bend’s ocotillo, yucca, and agave soon to be unfurled
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
Well, we headed up into the Chisos and soon we were on horseback
My stallion quite aggressive, nipping at everything in sight
And we crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico, the remoteness almost elusive
Baking under that desert sun, we slipped into a small dark saloon
Nobody there but us, the grizzled bartender, and two tough hombres’
It was like a scene in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, but we blended in, unobtrusive
Back in the Chisos we hiked to the highest among them
I veered off the beaten path for a moment and soon was being circled by vultures
They swooped in low, I didn’t know whether to duck or run, so I ran
Later while sitting by our campfire, dozens of large bats in the tree above
Keep an eye on the sky…. was this all some effect of being in the land of ancient cultures?
Further up the Rio Grande the next day in Lajitas we were on the edge of nowhere
The road like a roller coaster, several times I swear we were airborne
We stopped into a small diner, it was surreal, it was all black and white, no color
The waitress speaking in tongues, I could see she was reborn
Something about that cowboy hat though, I just can’t get it out of my head
It was way more than the novelty, I’m sure that I was aiming for something much higher
Was I searching for an America that once was, or maybe never was?
People approached me differently; perhaps the hat being what was required
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
The sky was the limit now, could we shoot for El Paso?
Thinking back on my 2-week journey had me aiming for more of the real McCoy
I started out on my own in Chicago, stranded there by a blizzard
Roaming the streets with Mac and that hat on my head, the aura of Midnight Cowboy
My real first destination was Mobile, Alabama, where I would be stuck inside for a week
But my Chicago flight had me touching down in New Orleans
I took in the French Quarter before driving my way East along the Gulf of Mexico
Lake Pontchartrain, Gulfport and Biloxi, Mississippi
Hugging the coast, as I would the Rio Grande the following week…by all means.
I was feeling the music, I was feeling the vibes
Down on the bayou, alligators, grits, and moonshine
I got out ahead of the snowstorm, others from the Boston area were stranded
A work week in Mobile ahead, along with two heady presentations
And a depressed economy reflected in a downtown in need of a lifeline
The cowboy hat worked out a little better here though than it did in Chicago
But it would not kick into high gear until I landed in San Anton’
It worked in the Missions, it worked at the market place, and worked at the carnival
And it worked with her family, deep discussions that knocked you right down to the bone
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
Alas El Paso was not to be; we headed North after hitting Presidio
Saying so long to the Rio Grande as we veered off from its meanders
The border patrol eyed us suspiciously, our car having been through the mill
But there would be giant telescopes, caves, and petroglyphs all worthy of a gander
When I got home I returned that cowboy hat to my Dad, the wisdom of its ways now complete
It was complete for him too, this a fact many years earlier, I never saw Dad wear it again
Neither of us needed to, we had both heeded its soothsaying non-verbal advice
Doing our best to help veer the good ship forward,
In our faith and how we interact with our contacts, our spouses, families and friends
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
- Pete
Song: “Brownsville Girl”
Album: Knocked Out Loaded
Release Date: July 1986
The below was written in the spirit of Bob Dylan’s (and Sam Shepard’s) majestic “Brownsville Girl” ( https://vimeo.com/183524348 ):
Well there was this cowboy hat I wore one time
On a ’93 trip across Western Texas, which I borrowed from my Dad
Who purchased it 8 years earlier at the Boston College-won Cotton Bowl in Dallas
I’ve never worn a Stetson before or since; it was a very short-term fad
Well, Dad wore that cowboy hat through the winter and spring of ‘85
The funny thing about it was, we live in Massachusetts, far from cattle country
Another strange twist was that Dad never really could care less about cowboys
This all influenced me; respect, curiosity, and the leaf never too far from the tree
Well, I keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in
Leaving high water marks in its wake; memories that don’t decay
She’s driving with me from San Anton’ toward Mexico and the Rio Grande
Hot springs, roadrunners, pronghorn, canyons; the beauty makes it feel as if yesterday
I can still remember that first border town of Del Rio not far upstream of Brownsville
We were on our own now, and feeling the freedom of the road
That river was flowing, that city was vibrant, that bridge was teaming with people
This was different for us, but we believed in each other, it showed
Well we drove that car all day, up the Rio Grande, and into Big Bend National Park
All the while thinkin’ back on the week, your cousin, aunt, uncle, and the Alamo
You were in your element there, family oh so important
You carried that forward with a flair, a smile and a glow
Well, we’re driving this car and we are stalled by the crossing of peccaries
But now my mind is blown away, we are indeed in a different world
And I’m mesmerized by you, the night, the stars, the desert,
the looming Chisos Mountains just waiting to be explored
Big Bend’s ocotillo, yucca, and agave soon to be unfurled
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
Well, we headed up into the Chisos and soon we were on horseback
My stallion quite aggressive, nipping at everything in sight
And we crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico, the remoteness almost elusive
Baking under that desert sun, we slipped into a small dark saloon
Nobody there but us, the grizzled bartender, and two tough hombres’
It was like a scene in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, but we blended in, unobtrusive
Back in the Chisos we hiked to the highest among them
I veered off the beaten path for a moment and soon was being circled by vultures
They swooped in low, I didn’t know whether to duck or run, so I ran
Later while sitting by our campfire, dozens of large bats in the tree above
Keep an eye on the sky…. was this all some effect of being in the land of ancient cultures?
Further up the Rio Grande the next day in Lajitas we were on the edge of nowhere
The road like a roller coaster, several times I swear we were airborne
We stopped into a small diner, it was surreal, it was all black and white, no color
The waitress speaking in tongues, I could see she was reborn
Something about that cowboy hat though, I just can’t get it out of my head
It was way more than the novelty, I’m sure that I was aiming for something much higher
Was I searching for an America that once was, or maybe never was?
People approached me differently; perhaps the hat being what was required
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
The sky was the limit now, could we shoot for El Paso?
Thinking back on my 2-week journey had me aiming for more of the real McCoy
I started out on my own in Chicago, stranded there by a blizzard
Roaming the streets with Mac and that hat on my head, the aura of Midnight Cowboy
My real first destination was Mobile, Alabama, where I would be stuck inside for a week
But my Chicago flight had me touching down in New Orleans
I took in the French Quarter before driving my way East along the Gulf of Mexico
Lake Pontchartrain, Gulfport and Biloxi, Mississippi
Hugging the coast, as I would the Rio Grande the following week…by all means.
I was feeling the music, I was feeling the vibes
Down on the bayou, alligators, grits, and moonshine
I got out ahead of the snowstorm, others from the Boston area were stranded
A work week in Mobile ahead, along with two heady presentations
And a depressed economy reflected in a downtown in need of a lifeline
The cowboy hat worked out a little better here though than it did in Chicago
But it would not kick into high gear until I landed in San Anton’
It worked in the Missions, it worked at the market place, and worked at the carnival
And it worked with her family, deep discussions that knocked you right down to the bone
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
Alas El Paso was not to be; we headed North after hitting Presidio
Saying so long to the Rio Grande as we veered off from its meanders
The border patrol eyed us suspiciously, our car having been through the mill
But there would be giant telescopes, caves, and petroglyphs all worthy of a gander
When I got home I returned that cowboy hat to my Dad, the wisdom of its ways now complete
It was complete for him too, this a fact many years earlier, I never saw Dad wear it again
Neither of us needed to, we had both heeded its soothsaying non-verbal advice
Doing our best to help veer the good ship forward,
In our faith and how we interact with our contacts, our spouses, families and friends
Big Bend Girl with your Big Bend Curls
Teeth like pearls shining like the moon above
Big Bend Girl, show me all around the world
Big Bend Girl, you’re my honey love
- Pete
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Master Blueprints # 42: "Where the Angels’ Voices Whisper to the Souls of Previous Times”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “Changing of the Guards”
Album: Street Legal
Release Date: June 1978
I was reminded this week by a friend of a key reason why I started this Music and Memory blog site in the first place; to try and explain the unique experience of being a teenager in the United States in the 1970s, and maybe even more importantly, to explain the after effects of having lived it. Those 70s years have crossed my mind off and on over the course of this Master Blueprint series, but to date I’ve not tapped that well nearly to the degree that I had done for my 3 earlier year-long series on the Rolling Stones (Stepping Stones in 2012), Neil Young (Forever Young in 2014), and the Who (Under the Big Top in 2016).
Perhaps there has simply been too much water under the bridge at this stage. Forty years; that is a long window of time to reconnect to anything. I had expressed concern about this way back when I started that first series (Stepping Stones) six years ago when I turned 50, thinking I was reaching some sort of demarcation line. To some degree, I’m pretty sure I was right. Another thought that came to mind this week was that perhaps I’d gotten it all out of my system with those earlier series. But then I thought, well, maybe these connections have become so infused with all this writing that the thought process related to those times has shifted from the conscious to the subconscious. Yeah, there ya go…. I’m running with that last one. This entry then will be an attempt to bring that 70s focus back to the conscious.
Bob Dylan’s Street Legal album has such a solid 70s sound to it, with no song better highlighting that period-production than the opening number, “Changing of the Guards” ( https://vimeo.com/259868644 ). This is a very complicated song, due mainly to the lyrics. Others have tried to break it down. I did not try to do that to any great degree here. What I did do, however was tap into that sound throughout the week, in an effort to bring back those old memories once again, this despite the fact that the song and the album were a million miles from my mind at the time of release. And yet…. maybe in my subconscious it wasn’t that far away after all.
First off, a cool observation I made this week: I was 16 years old when Street Legal was released in 1978, which just so happens to be the opening line on that opening track, “Changing of the Guards”:
“Sixteen years
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the good shepherd grieves
Desperate men, desperate women divided
Spreading their wings ‘neath the falling leaves”
Bob Dylan could have been singing about himself here. He’d been recording for 16 years at that point, having released his first, eponymous-titled album in 1962, the year I was born. Yes, he had been around a while, and at this stage of the game he could have indeed felt that there was a changing of the guards playing out…. Rock and Roll guards that is. Pete Townshend clearly felt this way, the Who releasing just around the same time the extremely underrated album Who Are You, which was all about a changing of the guards (Townshend, desperately hoping this would be a positive development, with the then advent of Punk, and he willing to fall on his own sword to witness it (See Under the Big Top # 10: https://pete-gemsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2016/03/under-big-top-10-who-album-review-who.html ).
These thoughts brought me back to a few months ago, when my sister Jen and her husband Dale hosted a dinner party for my wife Nancy and I, along with Jen’s and my cousin Becca and her husband and my longtime friend, Dave, as well as another great friend of all of ours, Mac. The seven of us wined, dined and grooved the night away. In the midst of it all, Jen and Dale began tossing out verbal requests to their sound system for songs, with “Alexa” responding to each demand as if we were the lucky first callers on the request-line of a popular radio station. Now, I may be a bit antiquated – ok I am – but this was a first for me. Anyhow we had a lot of fun with it, each of us ultimately calling out a handful of our very favorite songs and building on one another’s concepts and themes.
The music of Bob Dylan eventually slipped into the playlist, but it was not my doing, it was Mac’s. We had begun delving into a Latino music theme when Mac came up with the seminal “Señor” request to Alexa (see Master Blueprint # 5). It’s not a Latino song per se, but, well… if you’re still reading this, I’m pretty sure you get it. Anyhow, from there the conversation swayed to the host album for “Señor”, which as you may have concluded, is also the host album of this week’s Master Blueprint. Dave was asking questions about it; Mac and I were offering our critique. This reminded me of Mac and Dave bringing me up to speed all those years ago as we listened to the entirety Who Are You on the radio not long after its release.
Mac, Dave and I go way back…. to 16 years old and beyond. We’ve always valued each other’s insights on just about any topic, but most particularly when it comes to music. This has worked out tremendously for one and all over the years, because each of us has helped the other climb his own proverbial Tower of Song, which has played out between the three of us in countless concert halls, on turntables, in heavy discussions, as well as while listening to those aforementioned nocturnal emissions on car radios. The process was baby steps for me at first. I had a solid foundation with the Beatles by the time I turned 16, but this love affair was kinda becoming a stranglehold. If I was ever going to be multidimensional with my musical knowledge, I needed to start building on top of that Fab Four base.
The first floor built on that Beatles basement of my personal Tower of Song was interesting and all over the map: Albums like Joe Jackson’s Look Sharp, the Cars first, self-titled album, Rush’s Permanent Waves, Supertramp’s Breakfast in America, and Tom Petty’s Damn the Torpedoes, all of which were released in the late 70s. But talk within my circles gave me insights that these popular selling albums were or would-soon-be underlain by deeper, lesser known material by these same artists, of which the only offense was that this other material was simply not as commercial sounding. For example, in the years following his debut, Look Sharp, Joe Jackson would be releasing Jumpin’ Jive, a classic, underappreciated effort. Many ‘fans’ would soon be jumping off his bandwagon and on to other commercial endeavors by other artists. Not Mac. He helped open my eyes to the treasures buried in Jackson’s and many other great musician’s discographies. I dug deeper with the Cars as well, tuning into their second album, the more seasoned “Candy-O”. Even though these musicians were not at the top of the Rock and Roll heap, this kind of rounding out was extremely important in completing the first floor to my Tower of Song.
At the same time, I was flirting with the heavy hitters, but it would take some time to break free of their greatest hits. Indeed, by the late 70s I was listening to the Kinks (Kronikles), the Rolling Stones (Hot Rocks), and Neil Young (Decade), getting my feet wet so to speak. The puzzle pieces were coming together. A big breakthrough would be that evening in the car with Mac and Dave, listening to the Who Are You album for the first time, where my Tower of Song would soon begin to add floors at a far more rapid rate. This was an original studio album, released during my coming of age, and by a top tier band. The sky was now the limit.
That same summer and fall of 1978, the Rolling Stones would release Some Girls, Neil Young came out with Comes a Time, Bruce Springsteen released Darkness on the Edge of Town, and Elvis Costello gave us This Year’s Model. And amidst all this creativity, there was Bob Dylan rolling out that under-the-radar, 70’s-sound album Street Legal. Listening to it reminds me of one of the great things about Bob Dylan: Each decade he’s morphed his sound, with so many others often carrying suit. I mean, he basically created the 60s sound. But despite that lofty achievement, he never hung his hat on that success. He just continued to build on it with new floors.: His own personalized Tower of Song.
Franklin, Massachusetts was a small, rural New England town in the 70s, with more woods than neighborhoods. It was an idyllic world for that 70s sound. I’ve said this before in this series, but it’s worth saying again: In the 60s, music was simply a part of the scene, but in the 70s, the music was the scene, at least for young impressionable teens like Mac, Dave and me. What was especially great about the vibe was that we had 2 decades of material to work with. In other words, until Punk, the 70s was not only about its own evolution of sound but it was also about honoring the generation of music that was made in that prior renegade decade. Several musicians who persevered from one decade to the next helped to gel these two generations of sound, including Pete Townshend, Ray Davies, Joni Mitchell, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Neil Young, and of course Bob Dylan.
Even though I have no recollection of “Changing of the Guards” or anything else on Street Legal upon its release, I’d like to believe I took it in somewhere. Maybe it was on my drive to work one evening, listening to WBCN in my white button shirt and black pants, to bus tables at Welik’s Coach House Restaurant. Maybe it was in the attic of good friend Bruce, who benefited from having older hip siblings, each of them having left behind many of their albums as they spread their respective wings on their own individual journeys. Maybe it was on a boombox, by a fire, during the infamous “Bucko’s Keg” gatherings deep in the woods. Or perhaps on the turntable in the party-central mansion-home of friend George. The song and album have that type of ring of familiarity to them. That bygone era, when Dave, Mac and I ruled the world.
- Pete
Song: “Changing of the Guards”
Album: Street Legal
Release Date: June 1978
I was reminded this week by a friend of a key reason why I started this Music and Memory blog site in the first place; to try and explain the unique experience of being a teenager in the United States in the 1970s, and maybe even more importantly, to explain the after effects of having lived it. Those 70s years have crossed my mind off and on over the course of this Master Blueprint series, but to date I’ve not tapped that well nearly to the degree that I had done for my 3 earlier year-long series on the Rolling Stones (Stepping Stones in 2012), Neil Young (Forever Young in 2014), and the Who (Under the Big Top in 2016).
Perhaps there has simply been too much water under the bridge at this stage. Forty years; that is a long window of time to reconnect to anything. I had expressed concern about this way back when I started that first series (Stepping Stones) six years ago when I turned 50, thinking I was reaching some sort of demarcation line. To some degree, I’m pretty sure I was right. Another thought that came to mind this week was that perhaps I’d gotten it all out of my system with those earlier series. But then I thought, well, maybe these connections have become so infused with all this writing that the thought process related to those times has shifted from the conscious to the subconscious. Yeah, there ya go…. I’m running with that last one. This entry then will be an attempt to bring that 70s focus back to the conscious.
Bob Dylan’s Street Legal album has such a solid 70s sound to it, with no song better highlighting that period-production than the opening number, “Changing of the Guards” ( https://vimeo.com/259868644 ). This is a very complicated song, due mainly to the lyrics. Others have tried to break it down. I did not try to do that to any great degree here. What I did do, however was tap into that sound throughout the week, in an effort to bring back those old memories once again, this despite the fact that the song and the album were a million miles from my mind at the time of release. And yet…. maybe in my subconscious it wasn’t that far away after all.
First off, a cool observation I made this week: I was 16 years old when Street Legal was released in 1978, which just so happens to be the opening line on that opening track, “Changing of the Guards”:
“Sixteen years
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the good shepherd grieves
Desperate men, desperate women divided
Spreading their wings ‘neath the falling leaves”
Bob Dylan could have been singing about himself here. He’d been recording for 16 years at that point, having released his first, eponymous-titled album in 1962, the year I was born. Yes, he had been around a while, and at this stage of the game he could have indeed felt that there was a changing of the guards playing out…. Rock and Roll guards that is. Pete Townshend clearly felt this way, the Who releasing just around the same time the extremely underrated album Who Are You, which was all about a changing of the guards (Townshend, desperately hoping this would be a positive development, with the then advent of Punk, and he willing to fall on his own sword to witness it (See Under the Big Top # 10: https://pete-gemsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2016/03/under-big-top-10-who-album-review-who.html ).
These thoughts brought me back to a few months ago, when my sister Jen and her husband Dale hosted a dinner party for my wife Nancy and I, along with Jen’s and my cousin Becca and her husband and my longtime friend, Dave, as well as another great friend of all of ours, Mac. The seven of us wined, dined and grooved the night away. In the midst of it all, Jen and Dale began tossing out verbal requests to their sound system for songs, with “Alexa” responding to each demand as if we were the lucky first callers on the request-line of a popular radio station. Now, I may be a bit antiquated – ok I am – but this was a first for me. Anyhow we had a lot of fun with it, each of us ultimately calling out a handful of our very favorite songs and building on one another’s concepts and themes.
The music of Bob Dylan eventually slipped into the playlist, but it was not my doing, it was Mac’s. We had begun delving into a Latino music theme when Mac came up with the seminal “Señor” request to Alexa (see Master Blueprint # 5). It’s not a Latino song per se, but, well… if you’re still reading this, I’m pretty sure you get it. Anyhow, from there the conversation swayed to the host album for “Señor”, which as you may have concluded, is also the host album of this week’s Master Blueprint. Dave was asking questions about it; Mac and I were offering our critique. This reminded me of Mac and Dave bringing me up to speed all those years ago as we listened to the entirety Who Are You on the radio not long after its release.
Mac, Dave and I go way back…. to 16 years old and beyond. We’ve always valued each other’s insights on just about any topic, but most particularly when it comes to music. This has worked out tremendously for one and all over the years, because each of us has helped the other climb his own proverbial Tower of Song, which has played out between the three of us in countless concert halls, on turntables, in heavy discussions, as well as while listening to those aforementioned nocturnal emissions on car radios. The process was baby steps for me at first. I had a solid foundation with the Beatles by the time I turned 16, but this love affair was kinda becoming a stranglehold. If I was ever going to be multidimensional with my musical knowledge, I needed to start building on top of that Fab Four base.
The first floor built on that Beatles basement of my personal Tower of Song was interesting and all over the map: Albums like Joe Jackson’s Look Sharp, the Cars first, self-titled album, Rush’s Permanent Waves, Supertramp’s Breakfast in America, and Tom Petty’s Damn the Torpedoes, all of which were released in the late 70s. But talk within my circles gave me insights that these popular selling albums were or would-soon-be underlain by deeper, lesser known material by these same artists, of which the only offense was that this other material was simply not as commercial sounding. For example, in the years following his debut, Look Sharp, Joe Jackson would be releasing Jumpin’ Jive, a classic, underappreciated effort. Many ‘fans’ would soon be jumping off his bandwagon and on to other commercial endeavors by other artists. Not Mac. He helped open my eyes to the treasures buried in Jackson’s and many other great musician’s discographies. I dug deeper with the Cars as well, tuning into their second album, the more seasoned “Candy-O”. Even though these musicians were not at the top of the Rock and Roll heap, this kind of rounding out was extremely important in completing the first floor to my Tower of Song.
At the same time, I was flirting with the heavy hitters, but it would take some time to break free of their greatest hits. Indeed, by the late 70s I was listening to the Kinks (Kronikles), the Rolling Stones (Hot Rocks), and Neil Young (Decade), getting my feet wet so to speak. The puzzle pieces were coming together. A big breakthrough would be that evening in the car with Mac and Dave, listening to the Who Are You album for the first time, where my Tower of Song would soon begin to add floors at a far more rapid rate. This was an original studio album, released during my coming of age, and by a top tier band. The sky was now the limit.
That same summer and fall of 1978, the Rolling Stones would release Some Girls, Neil Young came out with Comes a Time, Bruce Springsteen released Darkness on the Edge of Town, and Elvis Costello gave us This Year’s Model. And amidst all this creativity, there was Bob Dylan rolling out that under-the-radar, 70’s-sound album Street Legal. Listening to it reminds me of one of the great things about Bob Dylan: Each decade he’s morphed his sound, with so many others often carrying suit. I mean, he basically created the 60s sound. But despite that lofty achievement, he never hung his hat on that success. He just continued to build on it with new floors.: His own personalized Tower of Song.
Franklin, Massachusetts was a small, rural New England town in the 70s, with more woods than neighborhoods. It was an idyllic world for that 70s sound. I’ve said this before in this series, but it’s worth saying again: In the 60s, music was simply a part of the scene, but in the 70s, the music was the scene, at least for young impressionable teens like Mac, Dave and me. What was especially great about the vibe was that we had 2 decades of material to work with. In other words, until Punk, the 70s was not only about its own evolution of sound but it was also about honoring the generation of music that was made in that prior renegade decade. Several musicians who persevered from one decade to the next helped to gel these two generations of sound, including Pete Townshend, Ray Davies, Joni Mitchell, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Neil Young, and of course Bob Dylan.
Even though I have no recollection of “Changing of the Guards” or anything else on Street Legal upon its release, I’d like to believe I took it in somewhere. Maybe it was on my drive to work one evening, listening to WBCN in my white button shirt and black pants, to bus tables at Welik’s Coach House Restaurant. Maybe it was in the attic of good friend Bruce, who benefited from having older hip siblings, each of them having left behind many of their albums as they spread their respective wings on their own individual journeys. Maybe it was on a boombox, by a fire, during the infamous “Bucko’s Keg” gatherings deep in the woods. Or perhaps on the turntable in the party-central mansion-home of friend George. The song and album have that type of ring of familiarity to them. That bygone era, when Dave, Mac and I ruled the world.
- Pete
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Master Blueprints # 41: "Seen A Shooting Star Tonight and I Thought of You”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “Shooting Star”
Album: Oh Mercy
Release Date: September 1989
I can’t recall if I’ve ever had to travel 3 weeks in a row for work before, but I just completed such an undertaking. The multi-part journey included five presentations at four meeting/conference related destinations in Ottawa Ontario (Canada), Saratoga Springs New York, Augusta Maine, and Baltimore Maryland. In each case, I decided to drive rather than fly, which added up to 2300 miles of road network, roughly the equivalent of a coast-to-coast trek from Savanah Georgia to San Diego California. Saratoga was a no-brainer for this mode of travel, but Ottawa and Baltimore are at the very edges of what I will consider for automobile travel for work; both destinations being precisely 400 miles away from my Massachusetts home. As a matter of fact, in the case of Baltimore, I’ve more-often-than-not chosen air travel in the past…there’s simply too much Jersey Turnpike between here and there. Ottawa, which is also a frequent destination, is a bit more complicated with air travel - related to bureaucracy - the explanation of which is beyond the scope of this blog entry.
I chose to drive to all these destinations for 2 reasons. First off, it allowed me to listen to a lot of Bob Dylan, including studio albums as diverse as Empire Burlesque, Street Legal, Knocked Out Loaded, and Oh Mercy, along with Live 1962-1966: Rare Performances from the Copyright Collections (which served me for the last blog entry) and other stuff. I listened to Dylan as I drove along Route 2, which connects the picturesque Lake Champlain island-chain in Northern Vermont. I listened as I spanned immense rivers, including the St. Lawrence, the Ottawa, the Susquehanna, the Hudson, the Delaware, the Housatonic and the Connecticut. I listened as I made my way through 10 States and 2 Provinces. I listened as I took in the beauty of the fall colors, the rustic, rural villages, the snow-capped mountains and the evening starlit skies.
The second reason was so I could have the flexibility to connect with good friends who live in or near the cities I visited, as well as the regions I travelled through. All seven friends I reached out to responded in the affirmative, and in each case, the given friend went out of his/her way in one form or another to make it happen. It was touching and reminded me that the friendships I’ve forged over the years - many now scattered across the North American landscape and beyond - are strong and long lasting. But it also reminded me that so much in our lives can be fleeting, and that we must seize moments like these when we can. Frankly, I could have thrived solely on the friendships I’ve made with current colleagues on these trips….my daylight work connections. Off the top of my head I can think of at least 20 of them. However, the extra-curricular bonding with my longstanding friends made these trips far more meaningful and memorable, and so those are the ties that really stand out.
Despite all that Bob Dylan listening, I’d had little to show for it regarding this entry as I made my way home through New Jersey and New York this past Thursday. Usually, I have an abundance of chicken-scratch notes to draw from as my work week winds down, but not this time. One thing I had done was zero in on the closing number off Oh Mercy, “Shooting Star” as my forty first Master Blueprint. It’s a song of such deep faith-based yearning ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXTElsREny4 ), including this appeal to God:
"Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me
If I was still the same
If I every became what you wanted me to be
Did I miss the mark or over-step the line
That only you could see?
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me”
Side note: The above URL includes 2 outtakes of “Shooting Star” each of which have lyrics that I’d never heard before until this write up. One line goes “Seen a shooting star tonight against the grain / Up in the hotrod sky, ‘cross the prairies of Maine”, which kinda blew my mind seeing as that line in a nutshell was what I physically and mentally experienced two weeks ago on the part of my 3-week odyssey that took me to Augusta.
Anyhow, I could have run with a religious theme here, but I’ve often delved deep into faith in these Bob Dylan-centric blog entries this year (which was inevitable, as I knew would be the case when I decided to write a series inspired by this musician). And since I am likely to do so at least one more time before I put a bow on these Master Blueprints, I made up my mind that I needed to take a slightly different tact this go around. But where was I to turn? What could I focus on? Fortunately, “Shooting Star” includes yearnings of the much more earthlier kind (this type of blending is one of many ways that makes Bob Dylan so fascinating) including these lyrics:
“Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you
You were trying to break into another world
A world I never knew
I always kind of wondered
If you ever made it through
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you”
And so, with all this in mind, I’m at the tail end of my journey this past Thursday evening, sitting at the funky music venue, Darryl’s House, in Pawling New York, with good friend, and former colleague, Jeff. We are watching Jim Lauderdale perform (who half way through his excellent set, blurted out the between-song poignant statement “The Von Trapp Family is escaping!”, which many in the crowd did not seem to get…. but I did). I’d pretty much let go my quest for “Shooting Star” inspiration for the time being when suddenly it hit me: For the past 3 weeks I’d been connecting with shooting stars in my life… those wonderful friendships I’d rekindled with in Ottawa, Saratoga, Montpellier, Baltimore and Pawling New York. Without further ado, here’s a rundown of those Fall of 2018 ‘Magnificent Seven’ connections:
Luc: A friend since 1982. Luc has been in a wheelchair his entire adult life. He’s handled it all with grace and belly-laugh humor. We bond on many levels, because, like myself, Luke is a deep thinker. He’s also an author, having written a biography (in French) of his personal journey, which includes details of the accident that changed his life, as well as the long road of rehab. Luke has been bedridden for several months due to a bad sore that needed heeling and was just on the cusp of getting a little time in the upright position when I arrived in Ottawa. He made it a point to work me into this tight schedule.
Being a fellow writer, Luc connects with me on this level as well. He’s been one of my best supporters in this blog endeavor of mine. We talked quite a bit about the blog. We also talked about his recent setback and about the demands on my work life these days. On my way out, Luc stopped me, looked me in the eyes and told me that he saw a bit of burnout in my face. He made the case that life is too short to get over worked-up about demands on the job and pleaded that I consider easing my foot off the gas pedal. It’s advice that could only come from a close friend. I’ll try to heed it.
Shooting Stars.
Pat: A friend since 1982. Upon my last day in Ottawa, I visited Pat at his home in Stittsville, about 30 minutes southwest of the city. I stayed overnight, as has been my modus operandi every time I’ve visited Ottawa for work over the past 10 years. Pat and Sharon’s door is always open for me in generosity and good spirit. Pat was in training for a new position at his workplace the week I was there, but this did not deter him from finding a way to fit me in. The two of us have experienced quite a bit together over the last 36 years, which has included he and Sharon making frequent visits to my neck of the woods the past 7 or so summers. This evolving tradition unfortunately did not pan out this summer, which I felt primarily responsible for. It was with that thought on my conscience when I knocked on Pat’s front door. I was soon swept away from such thoughts, however, by Pat’s warm greeting and the crack of a beer bottle opening.
Pat can discuss with you in significant detail just about any topic that comes to mind, from totem poles, to black holes, to Dead Sea Scrolls. Years ago, when I started doing Music and Memory writeups for friends and family, Pat saw something in my style and recommended I read Robert Pirsig’s masterpiece, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. That book had quite the effect. I reflected on this with Pat and told him about an encounter I had with a nice fellow at a bar earlier that week as I was watching the Boston Red Sox putting another beating on the Los Angeles Dodgers on their final march to World Series glory. Out of the blue, the guy in the Ottawa bar recommended Lila, the follow up to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It reminded me so much of Pat’s recommendation years earlier. Zen indeed.
Shooting Stars.
Jamie: A friend since 1989. Jamie and I originally met at work. The friendship was instantaneous. I hooked up with him at his home in Montpellier Vermont on my way back from Ottawa. Jamie cut short his work day to connect. I met up with his family and from there, he took me down to a local baseball field, where his son proceeded to strut his pitching prowess. Pretty impressive. Jamie has been a relentless ally in guiding my daughter Charlotte on her career path, with sage advice. Years ago, he hooked Nancy and I up with a close friend of his as we toured the Black Forest region of Germany. That friend took us in and served us arguably the best meal of our entire trip across Europe that glorious summer of ’89. Jamie looks you right in the eye when you talk with him. I always know I’ve got his rapt attention every time we converse.
Coincidentally, Jamie is one of four of the Fall of 2018 Magnificent Seven whom I visited with this week who were all once part of a camping caravan every spring and fall (the others being Kernell, Saiping and Jeff, and I’ll also include a friend named Harlow in this crew, who I visited with on a work trip to Albuquerque New Mexico in September). I organized these weekend camping and hiking trips in the seven or so autumns before Charlotte was born; my earliest years with the US Geological Survey. Jamie taught me the joy of field guides, be they guides on identifying trees, insects, birds, mushrooms, aquatic invertebrates, you name it. Hikes soon morphed from the concept of conquering mountain peaks to one of stopping and smelling the roses.
Shooting Stars.
Mike: A friend since 2006. I include one current colleague here as representative of all current colleagues who I have connected with these past 3 weeks, including Kim, Mike L, Judy, Carol, Larry, Dan, Jen, Mike W, Cary, Marie-Eve, Mike M (yes, plenty of Mikes), and many others. Mike and I met when he shouted out “Is that THE Pete Steeves” from across the Captain Daniel Patrick Inn pub in Mystic Connecticut upon my entrance, during a regional GIS conference there in 2006 (“NEARC”; the same one I attended in Saratoga Springs 2 weeks ago). We’ve been laughing ever since. Mike is a go-getter, a self-made entrepreneur who has done very well for himself. How he looks up to this civil servant, I’ll never know. I appreciate it though, because I believe there is huge value in what I do, and it’s good to see when someone in the private sector recognizes it.
Mike’s Dad and my Dad joined us at last year’s NEARC in Newport Rhode Island, for the Tuesday evening banquet event. It was a highlight moment for me; my Dad taking in my work world, yukking it up with Mike’s Dad, and the four of us getting a hoot out of each other. Mike invited me to his farm last year, and I watched in absolute hilarity as he ran out into the middle of the mud strewn pig pen to feed his hogs, who were chasing after him. There was abject fear in Mike’s eyes at the thought of slipping. I believe I got particular enjoyment out of it because, if the roles were reversed, he’d have no doubt reacted in kind.
Shooting Stars.
Saiping: A friend since 1988. When people ask me who I credit launching my career path, without hesitation I say “Saiping”. I’d already been hired by USGS as a GIS staffer when I met Saiping, who was already working in the GIS wing of the office. My experience with the software to that date was pretty standard. Saiping put it into overdrive, showing me the ropes with programming, which oriented me in a much more fascinating and sought-after direction, ultimately leading to national and international endeavors. Saiping was patient with me, a trait which comes across in her general demeanor.
It was so great to see Saiping again. She made the hour drive north to Baltimore from the Washington D.C. region to connect, having to curtail an evening of dinner and fun with a larger crowd, due to an unexpected conflict. That worked out just fine: We bumped up our rendezvous, and so I ended up having quality one on one time with her instead. It had been a while; longer than anyone else on this Fall of 2018 Magnificent Seven crew. We reminisced on this fact some, silently absorbing how quickly time can pass by. Saiping’s name means ‘duckweed’ in Mandarin Chinese. Her one sibling, Maiping’s name, means beautiful. We laughed about this from the perspective of her parents and what they were thinking with their naming conventions. It’s about as far as Saiping will go with biting humor. I’m good with that. Better yet, I’m graced with that.
Shooting Stars.
Kernell: A friend since 1989. Kernell broke away from an extended family visit to join me in Baltimore for an evening of fun and games (billiards). Here is another name that’s worthy of a little commentary. I’ve been connected with Kernell longer than anyone in my professional circles. I’m honored to state this, as I will explain, but on the very frequent occurrence when I’ve been in a position to talk about Kernell, I’ve had to explain that I was not going all military on everyone, seeing as the term ‘colonel’ is uttered in identical fashion. Well, as I mentioned in my speech at his retirement party, saluting was not a problem for me in the end.
If Saiping launched my career path, Kernell sustained it. Together we developed unarguably one of the most innovative products in the USGS in the past 20 years; that being StreamStats ( https://water.usgs.gov/osw/streamstats/ ). At that dinner gathering in Baltimore - the one Saiping had to miss - we sat next to one another. Kernell opened up to me on things going on in his personal life. We all have to confront turmoil at one time or another. It was nice that he would want to welcome my thoughts. He has done the same for me over the years. Such a peaceful, soul, Kernell. I wish the best for him always. Many years ago, when Kernell was leaving the Massachusetts USGS office to work in headquarters after 20 plus years, I noted in yet another speech that he looked far younger than his age at the time; so much so that he must have been running home from USGS in his earliest years to play Kick the Can with his buddies. May Kernell stay forever young.
Shooting Stars.
Jeff: A friend since 1989. Jeff went out of his way to connect with me, searching out a good concert along my ride home and then driving several hours east from his Pennsylvania household to join me. We ended up catching that aforementioned Jim Lauderdale show in Pauling New York. Jeff is another ex-colleague as well as a true music aficionado, having attended more concerts than anyone else I know. He is also a very generous friend, having sent me an endless supply of homemade CDs and DVDs of shows he has witnessed over the years, as well as others he’s taped off radio interviews, etc. Aside from all that, he’s simply an open honest friend.
Jeff is a key reason I can say I connect with Bob Dylan’s music. Same goes for so many other musicians, including Townes Van Zandt, Joan Baez, Graham Parsons, Sean Colvin, and many others. Like Jamie, Jeff also has a strong connection with the biodiversity around him. The morning after the show we took in a short hike up the road, Jeff pointing out a number of flora species endemic to the region. He spends most of his time in his 3-acre yard, planting, weeding, and pruning. He reaps what he sows, which in his case is pretty darn rewarding.
Shooting Stars.
- Pete
Song: “Shooting Star”
Album: Oh Mercy
Release Date: September 1989
I can’t recall if I’ve ever had to travel 3 weeks in a row for work before, but I just completed such an undertaking. The multi-part journey included five presentations at four meeting/conference related destinations in Ottawa Ontario (Canada), Saratoga Springs New York, Augusta Maine, and Baltimore Maryland. In each case, I decided to drive rather than fly, which added up to 2300 miles of road network, roughly the equivalent of a coast-to-coast trek from Savanah Georgia to San Diego California. Saratoga was a no-brainer for this mode of travel, but Ottawa and Baltimore are at the very edges of what I will consider for automobile travel for work; both destinations being precisely 400 miles away from my Massachusetts home. As a matter of fact, in the case of Baltimore, I’ve more-often-than-not chosen air travel in the past…there’s simply too much Jersey Turnpike between here and there. Ottawa, which is also a frequent destination, is a bit more complicated with air travel - related to bureaucracy - the explanation of which is beyond the scope of this blog entry.
I chose to drive to all these destinations for 2 reasons. First off, it allowed me to listen to a lot of Bob Dylan, including studio albums as diverse as Empire Burlesque, Street Legal, Knocked Out Loaded, and Oh Mercy, along with Live 1962-1966: Rare Performances from the Copyright Collections (which served me for the last blog entry) and other stuff. I listened to Dylan as I drove along Route 2, which connects the picturesque Lake Champlain island-chain in Northern Vermont. I listened as I spanned immense rivers, including the St. Lawrence, the Ottawa, the Susquehanna, the Hudson, the Delaware, the Housatonic and the Connecticut. I listened as I made my way through 10 States and 2 Provinces. I listened as I took in the beauty of the fall colors, the rustic, rural villages, the snow-capped mountains and the evening starlit skies.
The second reason was so I could have the flexibility to connect with good friends who live in or near the cities I visited, as well as the regions I travelled through. All seven friends I reached out to responded in the affirmative, and in each case, the given friend went out of his/her way in one form or another to make it happen. It was touching and reminded me that the friendships I’ve forged over the years - many now scattered across the North American landscape and beyond - are strong and long lasting. But it also reminded me that so much in our lives can be fleeting, and that we must seize moments like these when we can. Frankly, I could have thrived solely on the friendships I’ve made with current colleagues on these trips….my daylight work connections. Off the top of my head I can think of at least 20 of them. However, the extra-curricular bonding with my longstanding friends made these trips far more meaningful and memorable, and so those are the ties that really stand out.
Despite all that Bob Dylan listening, I’d had little to show for it regarding this entry as I made my way home through New Jersey and New York this past Thursday. Usually, I have an abundance of chicken-scratch notes to draw from as my work week winds down, but not this time. One thing I had done was zero in on the closing number off Oh Mercy, “Shooting Star” as my forty first Master Blueprint. It’s a song of such deep faith-based yearning ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXTElsREny4 ), including this appeal to God:
"Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me
If I was still the same
If I every became what you wanted me to be
Did I miss the mark or over-step the line
That only you could see?
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me”
Side note: The above URL includes 2 outtakes of “Shooting Star” each of which have lyrics that I’d never heard before until this write up. One line goes “Seen a shooting star tonight against the grain / Up in the hotrod sky, ‘cross the prairies of Maine”, which kinda blew my mind seeing as that line in a nutshell was what I physically and mentally experienced two weeks ago on the part of my 3-week odyssey that took me to Augusta.
Anyhow, I could have run with a religious theme here, but I’ve often delved deep into faith in these Bob Dylan-centric blog entries this year (which was inevitable, as I knew would be the case when I decided to write a series inspired by this musician). And since I am likely to do so at least one more time before I put a bow on these Master Blueprints, I made up my mind that I needed to take a slightly different tact this go around. But where was I to turn? What could I focus on? Fortunately, “Shooting Star” includes yearnings of the much more earthlier kind (this type of blending is one of many ways that makes Bob Dylan so fascinating) including these lyrics:
“Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you
You were trying to break into another world
A world I never knew
I always kind of wondered
If you ever made it through
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you”
And so, with all this in mind, I’m at the tail end of my journey this past Thursday evening, sitting at the funky music venue, Darryl’s House, in Pawling New York, with good friend, and former colleague, Jeff. We are watching Jim Lauderdale perform (who half way through his excellent set, blurted out the between-song poignant statement “The Von Trapp Family is escaping!”, which many in the crowd did not seem to get…. but I did). I’d pretty much let go my quest for “Shooting Star” inspiration for the time being when suddenly it hit me: For the past 3 weeks I’d been connecting with shooting stars in my life… those wonderful friendships I’d rekindled with in Ottawa, Saratoga, Montpellier, Baltimore and Pawling New York. Without further ado, here’s a rundown of those Fall of 2018 ‘Magnificent Seven’ connections:
Luc: A friend since 1982. Luc has been in a wheelchair his entire adult life. He’s handled it all with grace and belly-laugh humor. We bond on many levels, because, like myself, Luke is a deep thinker. He’s also an author, having written a biography (in French) of his personal journey, which includes details of the accident that changed his life, as well as the long road of rehab. Luke has been bedridden for several months due to a bad sore that needed heeling and was just on the cusp of getting a little time in the upright position when I arrived in Ottawa. He made it a point to work me into this tight schedule.
Being a fellow writer, Luc connects with me on this level as well. He’s been one of my best supporters in this blog endeavor of mine. We talked quite a bit about the blog. We also talked about his recent setback and about the demands on my work life these days. On my way out, Luc stopped me, looked me in the eyes and told me that he saw a bit of burnout in my face. He made the case that life is too short to get over worked-up about demands on the job and pleaded that I consider easing my foot off the gas pedal. It’s advice that could only come from a close friend. I’ll try to heed it.
Shooting Stars.
Pat: A friend since 1982. Upon my last day in Ottawa, I visited Pat at his home in Stittsville, about 30 minutes southwest of the city. I stayed overnight, as has been my modus operandi every time I’ve visited Ottawa for work over the past 10 years. Pat and Sharon’s door is always open for me in generosity and good spirit. Pat was in training for a new position at his workplace the week I was there, but this did not deter him from finding a way to fit me in. The two of us have experienced quite a bit together over the last 36 years, which has included he and Sharon making frequent visits to my neck of the woods the past 7 or so summers. This evolving tradition unfortunately did not pan out this summer, which I felt primarily responsible for. It was with that thought on my conscience when I knocked on Pat’s front door. I was soon swept away from such thoughts, however, by Pat’s warm greeting and the crack of a beer bottle opening.
Pat can discuss with you in significant detail just about any topic that comes to mind, from totem poles, to black holes, to Dead Sea Scrolls. Years ago, when I started doing Music and Memory writeups for friends and family, Pat saw something in my style and recommended I read Robert Pirsig’s masterpiece, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. That book had quite the effect. I reflected on this with Pat and told him about an encounter I had with a nice fellow at a bar earlier that week as I was watching the Boston Red Sox putting another beating on the Los Angeles Dodgers on their final march to World Series glory. Out of the blue, the guy in the Ottawa bar recommended Lila, the follow up to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It reminded me so much of Pat’s recommendation years earlier. Zen indeed.
Shooting Stars.
Jamie: A friend since 1989. Jamie and I originally met at work. The friendship was instantaneous. I hooked up with him at his home in Montpellier Vermont on my way back from Ottawa. Jamie cut short his work day to connect. I met up with his family and from there, he took me down to a local baseball field, where his son proceeded to strut his pitching prowess. Pretty impressive. Jamie has been a relentless ally in guiding my daughter Charlotte on her career path, with sage advice. Years ago, he hooked Nancy and I up with a close friend of his as we toured the Black Forest region of Germany. That friend took us in and served us arguably the best meal of our entire trip across Europe that glorious summer of ’89. Jamie looks you right in the eye when you talk with him. I always know I’ve got his rapt attention every time we converse.
Coincidentally, Jamie is one of four of the Fall of 2018 Magnificent Seven whom I visited with this week who were all once part of a camping caravan every spring and fall (the others being Kernell, Saiping and Jeff, and I’ll also include a friend named Harlow in this crew, who I visited with on a work trip to Albuquerque New Mexico in September). I organized these weekend camping and hiking trips in the seven or so autumns before Charlotte was born; my earliest years with the US Geological Survey. Jamie taught me the joy of field guides, be they guides on identifying trees, insects, birds, mushrooms, aquatic invertebrates, you name it. Hikes soon morphed from the concept of conquering mountain peaks to one of stopping and smelling the roses.
Shooting Stars.
Mike: A friend since 2006. I include one current colleague here as representative of all current colleagues who I have connected with these past 3 weeks, including Kim, Mike L, Judy, Carol, Larry, Dan, Jen, Mike W, Cary, Marie-Eve, Mike M (yes, plenty of Mikes), and many others. Mike and I met when he shouted out “Is that THE Pete Steeves” from across the Captain Daniel Patrick Inn pub in Mystic Connecticut upon my entrance, during a regional GIS conference there in 2006 (“NEARC”; the same one I attended in Saratoga Springs 2 weeks ago). We’ve been laughing ever since. Mike is a go-getter, a self-made entrepreneur who has done very well for himself. How he looks up to this civil servant, I’ll never know. I appreciate it though, because I believe there is huge value in what I do, and it’s good to see when someone in the private sector recognizes it.
Mike’s Dad and my Dad joined us at last year’s NEARC in Newport Rhode Island, for the Tuesday evening banquet event. It was a highlight moment for me; my Dad taking in my work world, yukking it up with Mike’s Dad, and the four of us getting a hoot out of each other. Mike invited me to his farm last year, and I watched in absolute hilarity as he ran out into the middle of the mud strewn pig pen to feed his hogs, who were chasing after him. There was abject fear in Mike’s eyes at the thought of slipping. I believe I got particular enjoyment out of it because, if the roles were reversed, he’d have no doubt reacted in kind.
Shooting Stars.
Saiping: A friend since 1988. When people ask me who I credit launching my career path, without hesitation I say “Saiping”. I’d already been hired by USGS as a GIS staffer when I met Saiping, who was already working in the GIS wing of the office. My experience with the software to that date was pretty standard. Saiping put it into overdrive, showing me the ropes with programming, which oriented me in a much more fascinating and sought-after direction, ultimately leading to national and international endeavors. Saiping was patient with me, a trait which comes across in her general demeanor.
It was so great to see Saiping again. She made the hour drive north to Baltimore from the Washington D.C. region to connect, having to curtail an evening of dinner and fun with a larger crowd, due to an unexpected conflict. That worked out just fine: We bumped up our rendezvous, and so I ended up having quality one on one time with her instead. It had been a while; longer than anyone else on this Fall of 2018 Magnificent Seven crew. We reminisced on this fact some, silently absorbing how quickly time can pass by. Saiping’s name means ‘duckweed’ in Mandarin Chinese. Her one sibling, Maiping’s name, means beautiful. We laughed about this from the perspective of her parents and what they were thinking with their naming conventions. It’s about as far as Saiping will go with biting humor. I’m good with that. Better yet, I’m graced with that.
Shooting Stars.
Kernell: A friend since 1989. Kernell broke away from an extended family visit to join me in Baltimore for an evening of fun and games (billiards). Here is another name that’s worthy of a little commentary. I’ve been connected with Kernell longer than anyone in my professional circles. I’m honored to state this, as I will explain, but on the very frequent occurrence when I’ve been in a position to talk about Kernell, I’ve had to explain that I was not going all military on everyone, seeing as the term ‘colonel’ is uttered in identical fashion. Well, as I mentioned in my speech at his retirement party, saluting was not a problem for me in the end.
If Saiping launched my career path, Kernell sustained it. Together we developed unarguably one of the most innovative products in the USGS in the past 20 years; that being StreamStats ( https://water.usgs.gov/osw/streamstats/ ). At that dinner gathering in Baltimore - the one Saiping had to miss - we sat next to one another. Kernell opened up to me on things going on in his personal life. We all have to confront turmoil at one time or another. It was nice that he would want to welcome my thoughts. He has done the same for me over the years. Such a peaceful, soul, Kernell. I wish the best for him always. Many years ago, when Kernell was leaving the Massachusetts USGS office to work in headquarters after 20 plus years, I noted in yet another speech that he looked far younger than his age at the time; so much so that he must have been running home from USGS in his earliest years to play Kick the Can with his buddies. May Kernell stay forever young.
Shooting Stars.
Jeff: A friend since 1989. Jeff went out of his way to connect with me, searching out a good concert along my ride home and then driving several hours east from his Pennsylvania household to join me. We ended up catching that aforementioned Jim Lauderdale show in Pauling New York. Jeff is another ex-colleague as well as a true music aficionado, having attended more concerts than anyone else I know. He is also a very generous friend, having sent me an endless supply of homemade CDs and DVDs of shows he has witnessed over the years, as well as others he’s taped off radio interviews, etc. Aside from all that, he’s simply an open honest friend.
Jeff is a key reason I can say I connect with Bob Dylan’s music. Same goes for so many other musicians, including Townes Van Zandt, Joan Baez, Graham Parsons, Sean Colvin, and many others. Like Jamie, Jeff also has a strong connection with the biodiversity around him. The morning after the show we took in a short hike up the road, Jeff pointing out a number of flora species endemic to the region. He spends most of his time in his 3-acre yard, planting, weeding, and pruning. He reaps what he sows, which in his case is pretty darn rewarding.
Shooting Stars.
- Pete
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)