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May 28th
Wednesday

 

Back in October my daughter Sarah got married.
I wrote a song for her and her husband for the wedding.
The lyrics were sent to my friend Yvonne Ashworth to be written in calligraphy,
a piece of art to be displayed in the home they were building at the time.
As of July 2013, I had no clue as to lyrics for the song, subject matter, chords, melody, rhythm.
One day in early September when the house was almost done, Pamela and I went to the house to shut
off the outside lights and bring a few light fixtures that the builders needed to install.

Me and Pamela were upstairs checking out the progress of the bedrooms
when Pam looked out one of the front windows and said,
“What a beautiful view! It’s interesting that they met on College Hill (Holy Cross),
they’re getting married at a church on Pakachoag Hill and are living here on this hill. Kinda cool, huh?”

In my head, I heard a creative ‘click’ and immediately knew a starting point for the lyrics.
My creative light bulb was totally illuminated.
The next day at work I wrote the song in my head, lyrics and all. (took 2 hours)
No need for a piano as all this stuff happens/sounds in my head, no lie.
Kind of weird but it’s true.
The lyrics explain the simple story of two people that fell in love.
Not going to explain the lyrics line by line but know that they are all about S&J.

The video above shows the transformation of my words into another art form.
My friend Yvonne went above and beyond.
She has done many exceptional pieces of art for me over the years and this one is right up there with the best of them.
Actually, what am I saying?
They are all amazing!
Check out this priceless video that gives you some insight into the time spent and work involved in
the creation of a piece of art.
I hope that Sarah and Jon listen to this song on a yearly basis and appreciate Yvonne’s precious work.

Comments: 1
Apr 29th
Tuesday

love, memory, alzheimers, marriage

As a crescent butter moon sets and the soul searing sun of the morning rises into an indigo sky
the days and nights endlessly bleed into one another like so many forgotten dreams
creating one sad and lonely heart, the shattered pane of a window in
an already fragile life that time seems to have forgotten.
the clock strikes ten, he’ll lay in bed and stir
and he will cry for her . . .

62 is a number he used to know but now he’s innocently unaware of its significance
it was a day so long ago, a crystal blue frozen moment in time that is elusive
to a cobwebbed place that once inhabited sweet thoughts, wooden cribs to be built and fighting ships on the oceans of his forever’s but
the clock strikes ten, and then again
he will cry for her . . .

She loves the man, the 62, but she knows she’s only human too
her tired eyes, her daily goodbyes, her love for the man she thought she knew
She goes to bed, rest her weary head, dreaming sunny memories of days gone by,
while never wondering why
she will still cry for him . . .

For H&G  . . .

~m

Comments: 1
Apr 26th
Saturday

voice, music, life, sound, confidence

 

I am currently getting back into playing music after a very long hiatus.
It’s a long road back but I’m enjoying the ride.
Many years ago I had some problems with my voice and my upper range.
The vocal power I had when I was 20 was long gone.
It was devastating to me.
The voice is an intensely emotional thing.
Unlike a guitar or saxophone, the voice works purely off of emotion.
Not that ‘instruments’ made of wood or metal don’t but it’s a visceral thing with vocal cords.
They are internally connected to the soul of the artist.
Some would argue that it’s the same thing with their instrument.
I’m walking a fine line here with my musician friends but I think/hope they will at least understand.

My voice is getting better these days for whatever the reason.
10 years ago it was crap to me; my upper range was total wasteland of wimpy vocal sounds.
Many folks will wonder what I’m talking about because they think I sound great.
What many don’t understand is that if the instrument doesn’t sound good to the artist then it just doesn’t work.
It’s very hard to explain because it’s a musician thing.
The voice needs many things but most of all it needs confidence.
It needs the backing of the body and soul.
Singers will agree because they know what I’m talking about.
My voice is important to me, the main reason behind this post.
I’m not fishing for compliments just understanding from people that listen to me.
I want badly to get back to a place where my voice feels comfortable, feels like me.
Thanks to a few very special people, it’s slowly getting there.
My warm ups are a bit avant-garde as they are extreme vocalizations of cartoon characters and various comedians.
I’ve found that for me, they stretch my range/cords more than mere vocal exercises.
A few of them could possibly go viral on Youtube should I ever decide to publish them.
Probably not.
As long as my vocal cords keep stretching I think I’ll be happy.
Time will tell.
Just keep listening and I’ll keep looking for the i . . .

~m

Comments: 2
Feb 14th
Friday

valentine, love, hearts, God

 

Sometimes you find a penny, heads up and you feel lucky
Sometimes you wake up to find the sun shining instead of rain and you feel happy
Sometimes you get lucky enough to find a Valentine that you end up spending the rest of your life with
And sometimes you’re lucky enough that she ends up finding you too and you feel blessed.
And some nights you find yourself falling asleep next to your very best friend.
If you’re lucky enough it happens every night.
And I am lucky enough.
How about that?
We ain’t got a barrel of money but we got something much better.
We got us.
Happy Valentine’s Day to the only one that can still melt my chocolate . . .

always,
~m

Comments: 1
Jan 10th
Friday

alone, age, years, birthday

“Do not regret growing older.
It is a privilege denied to many.”
~Author Unknown

On this my 55th birthday, I can only say that I’m happy to still be alive.
“If I knew I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself.” [att; Mickey Mantle]
Years ago I heard this quote and laughed.
Hindsight is 20/20. (that should be engraved on my headstone)
Mickey spoke the truth.
As Bernard Shaw said, “Youth is wasted on the young.”
If only they knew.
A family gathering will ultimately ensue this weekend and for that I am eternally grateful.
Oh, what a lucky man, I am. [He was]
Happy birthday to me. [and my twin sister, Maureen]
Come on 2014 . . .

~m

Comments: No
Dec 23rd
Monday

 

Merry Christmas!
Catch all of you in 2014!

~m

Comments: Off
Dec 22nd
Sunday

Christmas, Love, daughters, Santa

 

 

This year will be the first Christmas Eve that two of my daughters will not be at home.
Sarah is working and Jenna will be Christmas ‘Eve’ing many miles away.
Tradition is meant to change, to break apart, so to speak.
It does so on a regular basis and sometimes we don’t even realize it.
When we do we usually don’t like it but ultimately we learn to adapt.
But it makes me think and go all 20/20 is hindsight on my own aging behind.
I start remembering things from many years ago.
Some great, some good, some not so good but still very funny.
Touching moments from the years sometimes bring me to my knees.
After all is said and done, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I like to think that Pamela and I have been a great Mr & Mrs Claus, a great team over the years.
(Truth be told it was mostly her, to be honest. The Mrs. has the spirit in her heart)
We have 3 girls that are slowly making their way in the world.
Reading ‘Twas the Night before Christmas’ has become a thing of the past.
With three girls over the age of 20 it would be weird if we did that these days. Or not. o_O
We might even be labeled  ‘child molesters’ for reading to our own girls or some godforsaken thing.

Huh?

That said, the holiday is upon us and me and the Mrs have some things to say to our
‘not so little anymore’ girls.
(And Santa slowly puts his boots up on the brown corduroy ottoman {covered with a kitty flannel blanket} and adjusts his glasses*)

To Sarah:

On your first Christmas Eve with Jonathan, we wish you both many magical things; softly falling snowflakes, the mysterious sound of sleigh bells in the middle of the night, hoofs on the roof,  a sky full of moonlight, a warm bed {with THE Ironcat} and more Yuletide love than your hearts can hold.
Me and the Mrs. hold you both deeply in our hearts. We hope you know that.
We wish for you both a first Christmas to remember forever.
Don’t worry. I got the ham . . .

 

To Jenna:

Although me and Mrs. Claus won’t see you on Christmas Eve you will be in our hearts.
We wish for you a year of discovery and the acquiring of more knowledge than you will ever be able to use.
We are so proud of what you have accomplished so far and know that you will
complete the complicated task ahead of you.
Our wishes for you and A-Aron are that the Christmas season finds something special for you both.
Some linguica cheese rolls on your trip up to 01501 on Christmas Day will vasty improve your team holiday ratings.
Also, please take some of Nanny’s Christmas Meatballs with you.
A small part of us will be there in NB.

To Hannah
:

Me and Mrs. Claus wish you a Christmas Eve of magic, wonderful music,
bowls of decedent chocolate and a toasty bedtime pillow filled with sugarplum dreams, a snowy ride on the Polar Express and
finally a breakfast plate full of warm French Toast Casserole smothered in maple syrup made by yours truly.
Our baby is now an amazing woman that wears a business suit.
And she is so awesome.
And we are so proud of you.

I’m taking off my glasses now and going to bed.
I will softly wake the sleeping Mrs and guide her upstairs.
Know that we both want all three of you to understand that the Christmas Season is not about stuff but
about love, family, giving, sharing, friends and a love that you give back to yourself every year.
Remember that you will always have a place to call home wherever you are in your life.
That ‘home’ is here in our heart, here in the HOUSE that all three of YOU built.
Me and the Mrs. can’t give you more than that.

To our 3 precious girls . . .
We love you all.
Sleep in the gently falling snowflakes  . . .
Merry Christmas.

Mr. and Mrs. Claus

Comments: No
Dec 18th
Wednesday

kindness, homeless, love, winter, snow, cold

 

I went to get an iced tea today and was almost knocked over by this foul smelling guy
that wanted some money.

“Got five bucks?” He says.

“What happened to spare change?” I say, half laughing.

“Come on, man. I’m hungry.” He says.

“Come on, I’ll get you something,” I say.

He argued quietly about wanting money but finally accepted my offer of some food.
I’m far from well off but I felt for the guy for some odd reason.
I got him a black coffee and a glazed donut.
Cost me five bucks with my large unsweetened iced tea. (no lemon!)
I gave him the goods and he almost scowled at me.
He wanted the money more, I think.
Truth was he needed food and some liquid.
It wasn’t a Thanksgiving dinner but it was probably the first thing he’d eaten that wasn’t from a dumpster or
an overflowing trash can on Main Street.
I didn’t feel like Santa for the deed nor did I think about it again.
I’m home at my laptop writing right now.
It’s warm and the house smells like Christmas.
The tree looks beautiful and two of my daughters and Pamela are watching the Celine Dion Christmas Special in HD.
God only knows where this somewhat smelly and Blue man is tonight.
Maybe we all need to be kinder, not just because it’s Christmas but because
we’re all in this thing together.
Just a thought . . .

~m

Comments: 1
Dec 12th
Thursday

cheeseburger, Christmas, holidaze

 

It’s at this time of the year that I generally climb inside a protective cocoon and hibernate, emotionally speaking.
My personal ambivalence towards a holiday that is celebrated for all the wrong reasons leaves me
outside and shivering on a cold and snowy night.
I know I’m not alone on this one.

‘What do you want for Christmas?’
A question heard since before Thanksgiving.

You know what I want?
I want a cheeseburger, okay?
A juicy, steaming hunk of meat fresh off the grill.
Throw that sucker in a bun and we can eat, we can sit and talk about stuff that matters in our lives.
We can be human for an hour.
And drink beer.
And eat pretzels and stuff.
Talk about the Bruins, the Pats, and the number of players we still don’t know on the Celtics.
We can talk about the Red Sox and a banner year that nobody thought would happen.
We can even talk about the Farmer’s Almanac and their Winter prediction (which I hope is shit)
Social media and smartphones have doomed our society to cyber connectivity amongst users.
Text messages, Twitter updates, WordPress pages and Tumblr posts are just words on a white screen.
We are flesh and blood and we need a closer kind of communication than that.
Cheeseburgers can change that!

A 1TB hard drive from Best Buy for all the music I listen to?
Really?
A 25$ giftcard to Starbucks for their mediocre and overpriced latte’s?
Not that either.
How’s about an Omaha Steak gift box filled with filets, burgers, sirloin and crabcakes?
How’s about that cheeseburger?
Fruitcake I will never eat?
You’re probably not much of a friend anyway.

I don’t want anything.
Period.
Amen.
And the angels sing . . .

It’s a holiday of giving, yes?
When this holiday got blown out of the water is a question that all of us need to own up to.
I work in retail and holiday sales are important but the avarice and over the top ‘milking of customers’ by
online retailers, car dealers, furniture stores, health clubs, fly by night internet schemers and online pirates must be silenced.
That’s something that will NEVER happen.
And that is profoundly sad.
It will always be about the bottom line.
And the bottom line has nothing to do with stuff we don’t need.
It has nothing to do with stuff at all.

My yuletide bells stopped ringing many years ago when I realized that the Christmas holiday was just another chance to sell.
Santa turned darkly foul, holly turned autumn brown,
carols echoed chaotic harmonies not unlike a Charles Ives piano piece.
I miss Christmases from 1970.
I miss the antediluvian ideal of the simple ‘carol’ hummed by people walking on the street, shopping in stores.
I miss the Christmas mornings that you didn’t get all that you wanted but what you got was all and more than what you needed.
I miss the simplicity of the town manger going a whole season without being vandalized.
I miss my feelings and love and respect for a beautiful and simple holiday.
But maybe I just miss the cheeseburgers.
Fire up the grill, I’m coming.
Merry Christmas, dudes and dudettes!
Merry Christmas!

~m

Comments: 1
Dec 7th
Saturday

With Christmas right around the corner I felt like changing the atmosphere here.
I got red and gold balls.
I got snow.
I even have ‘Merry Christmas’ in the header.
Hmmm.
Something Christmas.
I found this video floating around on youtube.
I found it interesting for a variety of reasons.
Santa is not the only Whitelighter.
Leo on Charmed was an awesome Whitelighter. Yes?
But the greatest Whitelighter?
I have a favorite.
This video has echoes of the Polar Express in many ways but subtly veers off on a
tangent all its own.
Check it out.
It’s short but sweet.
Draw your own conclusions.
Lord knows, I have mine.
Whitelighter?
Mine is the best.
 

Comments: No
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