VHS, Paisley, and Shattered Memories

Recently I came to possess a moldy VHS tape from my youth.  Mom had cleaned out the basement and all of a sudden her keepsakes, became mine.  One tape in particular was marked “spring 1994 SHS Jazz band, Channel 39”. My wife found the tape and recommended we watch it, with the kids. Chills ran down my spine.  I was terrified of what forgotten nuggets of youth the tape would unearth. Scared yet?  You should be scared. Some of you are on the tape with me. There we were, paisley ties, sun dresses, enough hairspray to choke the EPA. I had a crystal necklace and a hematite ring…doing our best to channel  Glenn Miller while suffering through maybe the worst acoustics ever for a sound stage. “Moose the Mooche” “Misty” and what I know now to be the worlds worst arrangement of “Birdland” closed out the set.  Honestly, for a high school jazz band we were good. Time, experience, and the fungus on the tape just didn’t do us justice.

Beyond the paisley, (I still have the tie) what was so scary was the large dose of reality the tape shoved down my throat.  I have fond memories of playing in that band, the Jazz was good, people fun, and we got to travel a bit on the school’s time.  The 6 year olds and 80 year olds loved us when we came to their schools/ nursing homes, and in my humble opinion messing around with the eighth note doublet (dot- dot, became do-dat) was the best thing to happen to music since the piano.

Back to the reality….listening to the tape, listening to the tape, ugh when will the tape be over? I can see “Big-A’s” hands waving frantically, the patterns on the sun dresses are blinding me, “Misty”, is soooo slow.  A sticker of a bear with an umbrella on the bell of my trombone (still there) has spit on it. Painful. The camera man didn’t help much, he couldn’t zoom out enough to get the entire band, and focused intermittently on some people while ignoring others (may have something to do with the hair, in the 90’s it was always about the hair) Did we know it?  Was it a bust of a show?  Some people who were in the band are now professional musicians, what did they think of their first TV appearance?  Until I watched the tape my memories of that day were happy, the show was a peach…”Birdland” sat down and swung like it was supposed to, “Misty” was fast, and my trombone solo was an in tune masterpiece fit for a virtuoso.  The film proves otherwise.

Man reality sucks.

Writing this I keep thinking about Al Bundy, from “Married with Children.” (Bet you weren’t expecting that reference) For those of you who didn’t watch it or those who did but only paid attention to Christina Applegate, Al was an everyday man who peaked in high school.  He had flashbacks of catching the game winning pass, but it was always clear his memory wasn’t true to history.   For me high school was an unending day of mediocre classes shoved between music practice in the morning and performance in the evening….and those performances were all stellar.  Music, not life, peaked in high school .  I walked away from Jazz performance and the trombone on December 12, 1994….just walked away, maybe 6 months after that tape, ended 8 years of music after a show for a college function, and it wasn’t even good.

So here I am, one tape down one, memory shattered…..6 tapes to go.  Do I watch them and take the chance that more memories will crash and burn? Is delusion of high school jazz grandeur dangerous? Really, I’m curious.  It is great to see who was there, what we looked like, and the flood of memories like who was dating who, or what the prom was like.  It is nice to think of the good times and find names to look up on facebook.  But is it worth it? Not like I’m posing as a jazz great, or pretending the band was so cool as to have groupies, so why mess up what has been working for me for the past almost 20 years and stop the delusion.  Finding out the truth didn’t help Truman any.  I’m happily married with children, do I need any more reality than that?

Any thoughts out there?  Those of you who were there….what do you think, let me know.

Your Life in a Box

Growing up in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania I knew that “foreigners” were from New Jersey,  “illegal immigration” was referring to New Yorkers buying lots in Penn Estates, and that “Ethnic Diversity” meant you were dating someone from the next high school over. I had a varsity letter in riflery, a pickup truck and life seemed good.  Still have a truck, but I have grown a bit and now I live outside Philly in a very ethnically diverse community.  It has been a great experience.  Turns out that people from all over want basically the same things in life, someplace to live, something to eat, happy kids, and a good laugh.  We have had some amazing meals, and have enjoyed watching our kids and theirs play as if they all spoke the same language. 

What never fails to amaze me, is how brave these people are.  The stories about emigrating to this country are told matter-of-factly without flair, but to me they drip with  risk and bravado.  I know folks who left in the dead of night, some who applied for visa on a whim, others who were transferred because of work.  But in each case the story is great, and the message the same.  We left what we had, got off the plane, and made it work. Could you do it? Could you pack your life into a box jump on a plane and start over?  What would you take, what items would be so cherished to fit in the box? 

Growing up in the Poconos in the 80’s  I saw “Red Dawn” about 4 million times on TV.  Remember “Wolverines!”?  To this day, if the Russian and Cubans ever parachute into my backyard I’m sure I could pack up the truck with everything I needed to move into the woods and wage a gorilla war, in 10 minutes….well now that I have kids and a wife maybe 2 hours, but the point is, its easy….boots, knife, shelter, guns, stove, food. 

Since it is unlikely in this economy that anyone will want to invade us, I don’t have to worry about escaping into the mountains with Patrick Swayze and Susan Grey.  Suppose however you are leaving the country for good, liquidating your possessions down to a steamer truck. Problem is you have time to think about it. The wolverines didn’t have time to think, grab and go has a certain advantage.  Now that you are thinking about it, what would go in the box?

No the kids don’t go in the box….they get their own.  How will they pack it?  Give a kid a suitcase and tell them to pack for a trip.  Kids don’t pack smart, they pack the stuffed animal that has the drool baked in, and an assortment of almost random toys, they pack what means the most to them now… not what they might need in the future and unless its that favorite “lovey” they don’t pack sentimental items.  Clothing for children is an annoying afterthought, food comes from mom, but toys and “treasures” are an immediate and critical need.

I still don’t know what I would pack.  Clothing, you can get there, except maybe a  pair of size 14 Gore-Tex boots.  Food?  If people live there, they got food.  Guns?  They likely have those too. Technology comes in handy.  (yeah, I’m the one guy from the Poconos who will place a laptop over the gun if I had to make a choice.)  Treasures? I have a couple of rocks that are special, a photo album or two, my favorite tequila glass, my sons first baby food jar…Oh and a good fishing rod, but really the rest of the stuff I keep is just detritus of the last couple decades.

I’m not asking you what is important to you, but what is important enough to go in the box, just the tangibles; family, friends don’t count here, ya can’t box love…be purely materialistic.   People are always reminding you not to be materialistic, blah, blah, blah…That’s easy, try being materialistic, it isn’t so simple.  Take that moral do gooders!

Ham and Swiss Nirvana

What does completion mean to you?  For some it is the end of an activity for others it’s the first step in a new activity.  Think about the synonyms:

achievement, attainment, close, conclusion,consummation, culmination, curtain, dispatch, expiration, finalization, finis, finish, fruition,fulfillment, hips, integration, perfection, realization, swan song, windup, wrap-up ( thank you http://thesaurus.com)

Some of those are good others not so appealing. (I’m not versed enough in language to know why “hips” is up there. Latin, Greek, Turkish….Bueller, anyone?)  What is it about completion that gives people satisfaction? It is important to remember that not all completions are received the same.  For example:

Life Completed= death, bummer all around.

Movie Completed= Credits, not good unless it is a Sandra Bullock movie, then Yeah!

You complete……Me = Jerry McGuire.  Good the first time but got old real fast.

Homework Completed = TV time, I-Carly will motivate my son to do anything.

Task at work completed = Next task, this is called employment

Mustard completed = Well, let’s discuss…….

 I derive a weird sort of satisfaction finishing off a consumable.  I think it is more than “I killed it, I am man, hear me roar!”  I can’t be the only one out there who is slightly proud of themselves when they have conquered the jelly jar. …I know your out there admit it.  In my family a mustard jar brings the same flood of emotions a keg did in college, just not quit so intense, R rated, or as quickly.  

“Wow we have mustard, let’s eat it!” 2 weeks later “we still have mustard, this is great” 2 more weeks “ok we have to kick this mustard, look there is only a little left!  Who wants a 4^th  hot dog?” finally “YES!, we killed the mustard!” There are a few moments of pride as you marvel at the empty jar, and wonder about the possibilities of that vacant spot in the door of the refrigerator. Then, “oh god we are out of mustard!”  So it gets added to the list, or because of the SAM’S club we just pull the next 85 ounce jar out of storage…..and the cycle repeats.

Other things are that way; it’s like a measure of what we have done.  “Wow the soap is gone, I must be clean enough.” “This pen is completely out of ink, can’t believe I have had it so long.” Puzzles are that way….4 hours to complete the fluffy bunny slippers 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle, “look I did it!” the pride fades, and you rip it up and put it back in the box, destine to end up missing one piece at a yard sale. “I finished my Sudoku book!” my guess is if you finish one of those books you have another one in your hands that same day.

Some things are not that way. I have never had anyone marvel proudly at a completed tank of gas….and woe onto the eulogist who discusses looking forward to life’s completion.

The completion test is one of the measures I use to rate job satisfaction, if I am already looking ahead for the next task before the first is completed, I’m happy.  If I get in a situation where I dread the next task, or try to delay the completion of the task, it’s time to float that resume.  (see 1^st blog post, Underwater and loving it, I think)

I know some folks who dread the end, they fight the completion because what they have is known, something new is unknown and scary.  I think those folks are the same people who leave a mouthful of coffee left in the office coffee pot, rather than dump it out and start a new one. “I don’t have to finish it, and the next guy will get some, which is better than none, let him take the risk of the unknown.” Anyone who is a coffee drinker knows this is a sick and twisted mentality; some coffee is no substitute for a fresh, hot, full cup of Joe.  I wonder how many jars of almost empty condiments they have in the frig at home.....

This weekend I finished 4 items, simutaniously…it was a milestone, the holly grail, it was ham and Swiss.  I managed to use the last of the bread, ham, Swiss and Guldens mustard.  I could have chosen any of several other items to eat, but I chose the Ham and Swiss specifically because I knew it would finish off those items, was like nirvana.  I have a great life, my career keeps me thinking, and my family keeps me going.  It is not like my life is so pitiful that I need to derive satisfaction from condiment completion, but I do enjoy it.   We all have our endeavors, our need to complete.  You may run marathons, 26 miles in a few hours, but my mustard takes weeks and weeks, that is commitment to completion at a whole new level.