Childhood Memories, Life, Thought and Opinion

Regrets

Regrets…I’ve Had a Few – Frank Sinatra

Ever have one of those days where something happens and it makes you take stock in what your life is about? I had one of those days last week from an unlikely source.

I was reading the news headlines on the Internet and came across an article that Jackie Cooper had died. Many people born post 1980 probably have no idea who Jackie Cooper is. To them, he’s just another name of another 88 year old man who died.  Someone who had some kind of celebrity status  from the “Golden Age”. Someone whose time had long since come and gone. If it’s not Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber then it’s not newsworthy to most Generation X, Y, Z  or what ever the hell they’re called these days.

For those of us born around 1969 Jackie Cooper will forever be synonymous with Our Gang and The Little Rascals. He was the boy who had the crush on Miss Crabtree. Ring a bell? How many hours after school or Saturday mornings did you spend watching him showing his affection for her?

Jackie went on to be nominated for an Academy Award at age 9. He also recieved multiple Emmy Awards for directing episodes of MASH (my grandmother always used to mention that fact when his name popped up in the credits and that’s probably another reason I like him).

But why would the death of this guy have such an effect on me? In a strange way, and even though I never met the man in my life, it made me feel like part of my childhood had died with him.  I wished at that very moment that at some point I could have gotten to meet him in person. I remember all those early years I spent watching Jackie trying to impress Miss Crabtree. A young man on his quest for unobtainable love. Maybe it was the innocence of just coming home from school and turning on the television with no other obligations or committments. And now that part of me is gone.

There are many people in my life who are/were important to me. The people in my family are ones I’m able to tell, although maybe not as often as I should. But then there are some other types with whom I have regret.  People I have never met but had a profound impact on me. Among them:

– I would have loved to have shaken hands with Bob Ross and told him how much I loved his painting. His shows brought me closer to my grandmother. It was always “our time” together after school when Bob painted. I regret not meeting him before he died in 1995.

– I would have loved to have had Dr. Seuss sign one of my Cat in the Hat books at some convention. Of course I thought he would just live forever although life has a funny way of having that effect on you. I regret he never signed a book for me.

– I would have loved to have met Mister Rogers. I would have let him know how much I enjoyed his show growing up. How I often pretended to do my own show from MY neighborhood at home. Using a bunch of old clothes and shoes in a closet I’d spend many an hour at an early age pretending I was him.  How I knew all the words to his “hello” and “goodbye” songs. To tell him that I think the reason I like jazz music no doubt started from watching his show. Fred Rogers even came to Easton one year to visit the Crayola factory and I didn’t go. He passed away a short time later. I regret never meeting Mister Rogers.

Then there are the events in my life that I initially regretted but was glad how things turned out:

– I regretted leaving West Chester University after studying music education for a year. I left because I needed to find work and for years wanted to go back and finish. It never came to be but I wonder what my life would have been like had I been able to stay. Would I have been a music teacher in some school district? Giving private lessons somewhere?

One thing I know for sure is that I would not be where I am now if I had finished. I would not be married to my current wife (we got back together a few months after I was home for good). And my daughter would probably not be here either. I do not regret leaving.

– When my Dad was diagnosed with cancer in 1996 I began spending more time with him. We had been estranged for many years and it wasn’t until he got sick that we really began to reconnect again. After he passed away I regretted for the longest time not taking the initiative to see him more when I had the chance. But I eventually realized that those final years were actually the best I’ve ever spent with him. I do not regret those days.

So reading Jackie Cooper’s obituary had a two found effect on me. First of all, it gave me great “ammo” for this blog entry. But even more importantly, it made me think about where I am in life and where I’ve been.

In the future, I’ll try harder to tell people how much I care about them. I’ll also look for opportunities to tell those remaining “Jackie Coopers” how much I appreciate their work.

And I’ll look back without regret.

Cars, Childhood Memories

Ford Mustang

Summer time in the 1980’s rocked for me.  We had an above ground swimming pool that all the neighborhood kids would congregate at following a day of childhood reverie.  I remember  the cook outs my family used to have. There were entire clans of Wood (and those relatives with different last names but no less in equal standing) for as far as the eye can see.

Burgers on the grill, cold A-treat soda (yeah, we were ghetto) and the challenge of the quoit board awaited. As dusk settled in and everyone would now be deep in food coma it wouldn’t be long before Uncle Jim (who I was named after) would start in about playing poker.

The greatest thing I remember during the festivities was one summer taking a walk with one of my cousins. We would stroll by everyone’s parked cars lining the driveway.  There was Marlene’s white Ford Escort, Aunt  Babe,  Aunt Ree and Aunt Ron’s 1970’s baby blue volkswagon beetle and even Dave’s Jeep Wrangler.

But then it was like the heaven’s parted and a single spotlight shone on one car in particular. My Dad’s friend John Paul Jones (not the dude from Led Zeppelin he coincidentally had the same name and we liked to call him that) had a 1966 Ford Mustang that was the coolest, deepest shade of blue you’d ever see. Black interior with the chrome mag wheels. I never rode in it but I could hear him coming from miles away. It screamed.

John and my Dad were huge Mustang fans. I grew up around them and have loved them from the get go. In some families, you’re measured by how successful you are. How much college you had or how big your house is.  When I was a kid, the measurement was whether or not you had a Mustang.

Life

Rock Star Moments

I can still see it as if it were just yesterday. I was in my bathroom upstairs shaking like a leaf. It was around 3 pm and I was getting ready to head to South Bethlehem for sound check. My band was going to be the opening act for Clay Aiken at Musikfest. On the biggest stage of them all. The fastest sellout in the festival’s history – 6,500 people. We had the greatest singer ever in our arsenal that got us there. But I was a nervous wreck.

I had dreamed about this forever. Since the first day I picked up my grandmother’s hand held potato slicer and pretended it was a guitar. The callused fingers, the long walks downtown to Ken Brader and Son’s music store for lessons on brutal summer days. The countless hours of practice after school.

While other kids went out and played sports or hung with friends I was trying to figure out how the hell Eddie Van Halen got his kung-fu. I used to write journal entries in high school of what my life was going to be like after I “made it”.

And now, here I was sitting in my bathroom next to the bowl for fear of losing my lunch. I’m still not sure how I held it together. But somehow my “Rock Star Moment” was here. And I wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Rock Star Moments are those things in life that put us on a whole new level. They allow us to rise above the crowd for a short time. They make our lives really feel fulfilled. Some call it their “15 minutes of Fame” but I prefer to say Rock Star Moments.

They’re like “15 minutes” because it’s here for only a short while and then is gone. The difference is, when your 15 minutes of fame is over that’s usually all you receive.  But you can have many Rock Star Moments in life.

Imagine the day in the life of your favorite chart topping artist as they arrive at a venue to perform. That was me that day. All the crew members doing whatever it takes to make you comfortable so you could ready yourself for a night of great music. Ushering you off away from the adoring public. Ok, so this “public” was there to see Clay Aiken but this was my “moment” so I could think what ever I wanted. Clay had just placed second in Season two of American Idol but was almost on the same level as Justin Bieber is today. People were going bonkers for him.

Surreal.

That’s the one thing that comes to mind when ever I think of that day. It was perfect. Definitely more than fifteen minutes of fame. In fact, even our set was 35 minutes long so there.

There are no prerequisites for when they occur. Rock star moments can happen to anyone at any time. My ten year old daughter just had two of them in one week.

About a month ago I read an article that the Doobie Brothers were looking for fans to submit pictures and videos to use in their new music video. Yes, the same Doobie’s who do “China Grove”, “Listen to the Music” and scolded Raj, Rerun and Dwayne for tape recording their show on What’s Happenin’.

Their new song is called “Far From Home” and they wanted submissions that reflected that theme. Troops coming home from war, kids going off to college. That sort of thing.  By coincidence, I still had pictures from my daughter Jillian’s first day of school 5 years ago on my computer. So on a whim I decided to submit a few of her on the school bus for the very first time. Of course, I never really thought anything would come of it. Until a few days ago that is when I received an email telling me that they used a picture of her on the school bus in their video.

I watched the video and saw not only that picture but other life changing events as well. A beautiful song and message that I’m so proud she’s a part of.

You can check it out here: http://www.uso.org/thedoobiebrothers/

When I showed her the video and she saw the picture her eyes got as big as saucers, she was so excited. I’ll never forget what she said. “Daddy, I think I’m really starting to become famous”. Rock Star Moment. There and gone. But luckily for her, she was on the verge of another one.

The very next night she had her 4th grade chorus concert at school. It would be her final performance in elementary school as she and all of her classmates are moving to a whole new school next year.

From the look in her eyes I knew this was special for her. I watched her singing and laughing with her best friend that stood up there with her and thought to myself, “There is no place else on Earth she’d rather be right now”. And I think I had a rock star moment of my own there too.

But rock star moments don’t have to be “music related”. They could be as simple as having your first child, finishing an important project at work or school or even helping someone in need. My Dad used to have his rock star moments when he would take an old Mustang that sat around rusting for years and slowly but meticulously piece it together. The look he had when he’d beep the horn out front and we’d rush down to see a car that had sat dead for years now suddenly come back to life is something I’ll never forget.

Sometimes you know about their arrival weeks in advance like I did. Sometimes they are a complete surprise (like the Doobie Brothers video). You may even have had a bunch of them in the past or maybe you feel yours is yet to come. But the point is, they exist and they can happen to you. And you have them for life.

So let’s hear about your Rock Star Moments.

Life, Thought and Opinion

More Thoughts From The Gym

I’ve covered the experience of being in the gym locker room at LA Fitness but never got to tell you about all the wonderful stuff that happens in addition to seeing things that should be exorcised by the dudes in Supernatural. So let’s assume that I have arrived, changed and made my way on to the gym floor.

When I’m in the gym, I have a job to do. Sure, I’d much rather be sitting on the couch at home with the remote than running on a treadmill. Just the fact alone that I need to be in this place is bad enough. I need to do what I’ve got to do and get out.  Period.  But many of the others that are in this habitat have different agendas.

There are five different categories to describe the typical person who holds a membership to LA Fitness. The vain Jocks, The Posers, The Models, The Talkers and then there’s people like ME . I classify myself mostly between the beautiful model (male of course) and the athletic jock (well, at least that’s what everyone tells me).

First there are the vain Jocks. These are the ones who usually come in wearing athletic sportswear and new Nike cross training shoes. These cats are usually in reasonable shape and should be out running track on the high school field across the street and not hogging up my precious gym equipment (I call it MY equipment because when I’m in “da house” well, it’s MINE).

Next are the beloved Posers. These are people who shouldn’t be in the gym at all. They’re the muscle heads who like to congregate and go all out on every last set using every last dumbbell on the rack. You can typically tell who they are because they are primarily male, carry around bottles of protein and creatine drinks and, if not showing the disproportion of their big chests compared to their small head, usually wear hooded sweatshirts with the hood up over said head. I believe having this hood up is to keep their identity secret lest they be laughed to scorn.

The Models are next on the list. These are the beautiful women who walk around the gym in skimpy clothing. They have ZERO pounds of weight to lose. They are toned and tanned. They can also on most occasions be found on a treadmill going no where for hours or in the company of a Poser who is showing them the ropes.

They can be dangerous because they can lead people like ME to lift weights beyond their means in an effort to impress them. It’s a tough decision between eye candy and safety but I’d have to err on the side of caution. Sorry ladies. But I’m sure you girls will all forgive me the next time you see me flex.

Next there are the Talkers. Of all the ones that piss me off the most, these are the ones.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked over to a piece of equipment only to find a bunch of people sitting around it having a conversation.  These are the people who can spend hours chit-chatting. Ironically, they also always seem to be the same people who have no problem walking around naked in the locker room with a body that shows the results of all the hard work they did at the machine.

Finally, there are people like me. The ones who will never bench 400 pounds or win a Mr. Olympia. We’re the ones who don’t want to be there at all but really have no choice. We just want to stay reasonably active and keep the age-mass phenomena at bay for as long as possible. That’s why we do what we do.

So as you can see, the “fun” in the gym isn’t just restricted to the locker room. It extends out to the floor as well. And don’t even get me started about the rumors I’ve heard about what goes on in the swimming pool.

Childhood Memories, Life

Bob Ross and Happy Trees

There are certain people you encounter in life that inspire you. People that motivate you to be your best or try new things.

The band KISS made me want to be a rock star. Mr. Milisits in high school made me want to sing. But today’s post is about the man that made me want to, of all things, paint.

Bob Ross was a genius.

Here was a guy who didn’t follow the traditional method of painting. He would literally cover the canvas in white paint and then paint on top of that. The wet on wet technique he called it.

I remember spending countless afternoons after school with my Grandmother watching him on PBS painting. He’d always say things like “Lets put a happy little tree in there” and then out of nowhere one would emerge from a knife or brush he wielded in his hand. Freakin’ awesome!

Sometimes he would begin with a dry black canvas. He’d then cover the entire canvas in blue and paint on top of that. Then he would start painting the scene from there. These would be his night scenes and were always my favorites.

I painted quite a bit with Bob in the 80’s. It was not only easy but one of the most relaxing and rewarding things I ever did.

When Bob died in 1995 I was devastated. He was really just starting to achieve celebrity.

I always wondered what it would have been like if he were still around today.

I could see him being a special guest on Letterman or Leno and the bit would be him painting a picture in 3 minutes or something like that. Everyone would go crazy in the audience.

Sadly, it just wasn’t mean to be.

Last year, I had to go to Freeport Maine for work. While I was there I decided to make the two hour trip upstate to the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse. It’s the lighthouse you see on the back of the Maine State quarter and also one of the backgrounds you can have in Windows 7.

While I admired the beauty of the lighthouse and it’s surroundings a very cool idea popped into my head. And I could not wait to get home.

So yes, I still paint Bob Ross style every once in a while. Fortunately, his painting products can still be found in stores so there is still a market for it.

I love the idea of taking a blank canvas and making a whole world on it in an hour or so. To me, it’s still therapeutic.

And here’s the best part of all: while I’m painting my happy little trees (still no where near as good as his) I think about all those wonderful afternoons after school with my Grandmother.

Thanks Bob

Stories and Writing Prompts

How I Got Out Of Mowing The Lawn

So..

I’m sitting down in the basement watching a MASH marathon. Something I don’t get to do too often since the show went off the air thirty years ago and is now on television in syndication only rarely.  And before you go and say anything about why I don’t just go and get the complete collection on DVD or streaming it someplace let me spare you the trouble.

Having every episode on some disc sitting around to play whenever I want is NOTHING compared to the euphoria you get when flipping through the channels and finding your favorite show on. Because when it comes my faves, I still get giddy when I turn on the television and there it is. And I also like the randomness of not knowing which episode it is too. Don’t judge.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…. So there I am watching Hawkeye and BJ putting shaving cream on Frank Burn’s face for about the five billionth time when in walks my miffed significant other.  I know she can see the happiness in my eyes watching my boys from the four-oh-double-seven.  She is fully aware of my love for the show. I’m eating nachos and enjoying the good life of reliving the Korean War through the eyes of guys named Trapper, Radar and Klinger.  I am in my happy place. She none the less isn’t so amused.

Apparently, there is a jungle growing out in the yard. A runaway lawn has gotten too out of control and must be addressed. For me, such things do not take precedence over watching Klinger dressing like a woman and trying to eat a Jeep to get out of the army. She had been wanting me to cut it for the longest time. I said I was going to, but that was before I stumbled upon MASH.  She didn’t say a word though. Just stood there. Staring at me.

So after the stare down has gotten to be too much I did something I rarely do. Please forgive me Colonel Potter….

I put the TV on mute.

That’s right, turned off the sound to one of my all time favorite television shows. There was another ten or fifteen second  moment of silence. The tension in the air was so strong you could cut it with a knife.  Then finally, she spoke.

“You know, you are wasting your life away watching a show that you’ve seen a thousand times already…”

Again, more silence.

I slowly took another bite out of my nacho. The beef and cheesy combination only reminded me that I needed to get back to Korea as soon as possible. So after washing it down with some cold beer,  I cleared my throat and responded with the following:

Honey? I did some research. The average person spends approximately 8-10 minutes every day going to the bathroom (both number one and number two). Mind you, the time could increase depending upon many factors such as drunken nights or eating bad Chinese but let’s just use “ten” as a baseline. This includes the act itself and assuming you use proper hygiene methods afterwards. That equates out to more or less an hour a week.

I multiplied that by 52 and got 52 hours for a year. Follow me? Then I multiplied that again by 75 for the years of an average life span. (I didn’t tell her, but I would have subtracted some time for those early years where we all have incontinence issues and Mom and Dad had to take care of hygiene. But I didn’t want to make this issue too complicated).

Finally, I divided this number by 24 for hours in a day.

Do you know what I discovered Sweetheart? The average person spends almost a full half year of their entire life either taking a leak or dropping a deuce. Yep, we spend 6 months in the toilet. Amazing isn’t it? What a waste of time (pun intended).

Now I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather spend that time watching MASH then sitting on the pot. Wouldn’t you agree?

Silence.

She shook her head and walked away. I raised my bottle of beer and gave myself a toast. Looks like the grass will have to wait. At least until MASH is over.

Oooh…King Kong Vs. Godzilla is coming on next….

Thought and Opinion

The Day The Music Died

This post has nothing to do with driving a Chevy to the Levy or singing dirges in the dark.  Rather, the day the music died for me was just last Friday. I have a little bit of a connection with the reason why so hear me out.

American Idol is now in it’s 10th Season on Fox. A show that has been band-aided together for the past 4 seasons. Out of the past nine years only two winners clearly come to mind that can be considered “idols”: Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood. Both have proven to have longevity in a business that chews up most and spits them out.

Sure, there’s been the Jennifer Hudson (who won an Academy Award) and the Chris Daughtry (who also didn’t win but continues to have success). But for the most part, everyone else has been a flash in the pan.

In 2004 the band I was in had the opportunity to open for Clay Aiken, the runner up in Season 2. There was literally Beatlemania with the dude. The show at Musikfest was the fastest sellout in the festival’s history. I remember people going absolutely ape-shit over this guy.

I’m not complaining though, I got to perform in front of 6,500 people that night and it was the ultimate night of my life as a musician. Great memories!

Back to present day. On Thursday night’s show contestant Pia Toscano got booted off by virtue of least amount of fan votes. A shock and surprise to most viewers, myself included.  But let’s not forget that both Hudson and Daughtry got booted off early too. And who went on to win those shows? Fantasia Barrino and some dude named Taylor Hicks. Names that will likely become answers to a future Trivial Pursuit question.

For some reason, Pia getting the boot was different. It just didn’t “feel” right for the judges, the voters or the media. So by Friday it was announced that Pia would be offered a major recording contract with Interscope Records. Excuse me, but isn’t the actual prize for winning American Idol a recording contract?

But it doesn’t end there. Executives at Interscope were ALREADY contacting dozens of their songwriters in an effort to throw together an album for her to release as quickly as possible.

It’s this kind of thinking that makes me realize that music really isn’t art anymore.  It’s all about the quick buck. Making as much as you can, as fast as you can now while you have the chance.

It used to be that artists would sit down and write songs about what they were going through. Putting their emotions into the lyric. Taking time in the studio to make sure what they wanted to say gets recorded exactly as they wanted.

Now, you need look no further than what’s popular on radio today to know that the opposite is true. Artists like Katy Perry, Ke$ha, Lady Gaga. All of them swimming in a sea of cash from making crazy videos,  hatching out of eggs,  getting drunk and showing cleavage. Or having “special guests” rap a line or two in the song to bring in some extra revenue. The question becomes “Just how many of these performers (because none of them are musicians in the sense of the word) will you still remember when their schitck has run it’s course?”

I have no doubt that the first Pia Toscana album will sell. My guess is it will be one of the biggest selling albums of the year. But where will she be in two or three years from now? Will she be dumped by her record company like former Idol alumni Taylor Hicks and David Archuleta? What if they put her out on tour and she bombs? After all she’s never really “paid her dues”.

If you’re one of the big shots at Interscope then you worry about that later.

Right now, there’s money to be made.

Thought and Opinion

Ticketmaster Sucks

I’ve been screwed before. I’ve ordered products through the mail that didn’t deliver what they claimed. Had some with pieces missing and I had to spend countless hours talking to someone from India who had no idea what I was talking about. I even complained about the high cost of shipping something that weighs half a pound.

But the next time you want to see how business screws customers just go online and attempt to purchase a ticket through Ticketmaster’s website. Any show, it doesn’t matter.

I’ll admit, I’m a metal-head. Tried and true. I’m also a bit of a cheap skate. So $30 to see Whitesnake at Penn’s Peak in Jim Thorpe was just about as much as I would spend. I’ve been to the venue before and shows there sound great. Since I’ve never seen these guys before I decided I wanted to go.

I enter “1” for how many $30 tickets I want and proceed to the next page. There, I am greeted with a message that tells me my subtotal contains an extra $8.75  in “facility” and “convenience”  fees.  So the cost of the ticket is $38.75.  Sure, it ruffled my feathers but damn it, I’m “metal-head” Jimbo and I want to see these guys. So I proceed. When I get to the next page my blood starts to boil.

I find myself now needing to choose how I would want my tickets delivered. The obvious choice would be for me to simply print them out myself at home. Free you would think right? Nope. $1.75 “Delivery Fee” for that one. So now my $30 ticket is now at $40.50.  For shits and giggles I decided to see what’s next so I proceeded and sure enough was not “disappointed”.

Already at $40.50,  I now see that I am also going to be charged an “Order Processing Fee” of $3.50 on top of all that. So in addition to paying the thirty dollar cost of a ticket to the show I must also may $14 just to have the honor of actually getting that ticket into my posession.

I know businesses need to make money and I have no problem paying reasonable charges.  But how Ticketmaster gets away with this is beyond me. How can anyone justify charging what equates to 46% tax on a piece of paper? But I guess this is what happens when you’re the only game in town for the most part.

A few weeks ago I puchased a ticket to see Journey, Foreigner and Night Ranger at the Allentown Fairgrounds. This one even came with a backstage pass (I told you I was a metal-head). Anyway, I purchased it through a company contracted out by the band for pre-sale (one that was NOT Ticketmaster).

In addition to the ticket price there was a flat $10 service fee.  No facility, delivery or convenience fees at all.  I decided to do a side by side comparison of what i paid to what Ticketmaster charged.

The result: Ticketmaster would have charged me $23 in “fees” as compared to the $10 from the other outlet. (But give them credit, they did waive the $1.75 charge for me to print out the ticket..Thanks guys!).

Unfortunately, not every show allows you this opportunity. The cheapest way still is to physically drive to the venue and get the ticket. But I think it’s unfair to have to price shop for tickets to see a show. Why bands aren’t outraged at how Ticketmaster is screwing their fans is beyond me.