Lava Lamps, Rick Neilson's Autograph, & 500 Words

 

Every Monday, I take a seat in my writer’s garret and with keyboard in hand try to capture things that have been wandering my mind from the week before. If I find myself without a topic, I have a list of things I thought about before; on weeks when multiple subjects came to mind. Today is a rare exception. I lack a subject and nothing on the list interests me enough to devote my time and energy to explore the nuances that interested me to begin with. In short, I’ve spent the last three hours surfing the web and listening to music.

It’s not a bad way to pass the time, but getting my blog entry done is serious business. After all, there are not millions of dollars at stake and if I cannot get something written, calamities will not befall all of humanity. Or will it? Maybe so, maybe not, but is it worth the risk? Probably not. I mean I’m still troubled by occasional memories of things I did in the third grade which should’ve ended with my apology — guilt for adverse reactions as result of my actions or inactions is a given for me. So here is sit.

My writer’s garret contains many toys, lights, and various other things that I enjoy having around. I've talked about my Zoo, and on days like today sometimes let my imagination room as my eyes move from one figure to the next. I have three lava lamps that, after a few hours provide visual entertainment as lava moves up and down within the colored oil. These lamps were on my wish list since I was an adolescent, and as is with many things I eventually bought it for myself when I was able. I’m pleased I finally have them. Autographed mementos line the walls. I can trace each one back to a specific concert or movie which lies somewhere on my list of favorites.

One productive thing that happened while I was sitting here was that I finally ordered a replacement set of speakers for my computer system. After all, the ones I have and use came with the Dell computer I bought back in 2000. After 25 years, it was time for an upgrade, plus the subwoofer had failed several years ago, but because of the way the system works I still had to keep it in place or the speakers wouldn’t work. I do not know who manufactured the speakers I have, but the ones coming in are Bose, which guarantees they will be a step up.

It’s about time to get up and fix myself some lunch. Then I need to get ready to take my recyclables to the recycle place so that they can be recycled. In short, it’s time I close out this entry.

In the forward to Ferdinand's Gold, I talk about my high school English teacher, Mr. Przygocki, and his weekly assignment of a 500-word essay. In the years since school, I believe such an assignment is a good way to keep writing muscles in shape. So, all in all I have completed something today. I did my workout. 542 words worth.

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Nock, Draw, Loose...

My daughter recently mentioned she felt it was important for children to travel. I couldn’t agree more. I think travel is one of the most mind and spirit expanding things a person can do.  

Growing up as a military brat, traveling was just part of the way life was lived. The major benefit of doing it that way, opposed to vacation traveling, was you usually got at least a year at a location. There was time enough to feel at home and enjoy it. 

Since travel was a given, my parents made sure I got whatever opportunities were available at each location. One of the most unusual was archery. My Dad was a bow hunter (standard longbow), but we lived anywhere he could teach me that skill. However, on Fort Benning (one of the most opportunity rich environments for dependent, or at least it was) the Youth Activity Center (YAC) had an archery class. So, among the other things I was signed up for while we were stationed was that class.

Every Saturday, me and about 20 other brats got together at the archery range. This was a dedicated archery range, not a multi-use field, with in-ground quivers at one end of the field and huge targets on the other. The first couple of classes were in a classroom, and we learned about different bows, various arrow tips, and how important the arrow’s feathers were. The instructor also covered basic safety rules to avoid accidents and emphasized the importance of the Range Master.

The Range Master owned the range and his commands were absolute. He told us when to load the arrow into the bow (Nock), pull back the bowstring (Draw), and fire (Loose). In general, he maintained order and told us when it was safe to retrieve our arrows from down range. Many years later, I learned the military rifle range management practices mirrored the Archery Range Master’s practices. I will say, at no time while I was there was anyone shot with an arrow accidentally. 

When we finally got onto the range, we learned how to use elevation to get our arrows into the center of the target and how to adjust aim for wind. It may sound kind of trivial now, but at the time they were all important lessons to putting that arrow into the center of the target. My memory may just be sweetening the experience, but I don’t recall ever completely missing the target. Of course, that doesn’t mean it was in the bulls-eye every time either. 

Years later, it became popular to give everyone a trophy just for participating, but in order to get a patch from YAC had to earn it. Military bases then were big on rewarding with a patch versus a trophy. I earned a patch for hitting the bull’s-eye x number of times. I recall getting quite a few patches growing up, but few of them got sewn on.

I can recall only a handful of times since that archery class when I picked up a bow and arrow. It’s just something that went by the wayside over the years, but still remains a fond and vivid memory. An experience I had when I was a kid that not everybody gets to do.

My fondest memory of my time in archery class was getting my first kiss from the blonde daughter of my dad’s Commanding Officer. I’ll never forget Mary Ellen Anderson. Maybe a combination of the two experiences is where my admiration of Robin Hood began.

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Theatre Hand Off

In May 1990, I walked off the stage of Havens Auditorium in Kokomo for the last time. I never expected to reenter the theatre as I was about to move, but I felt immense satisfaction when I took my last curtain call as King Arthur in Camelot. Now, 34 years later, I walked back into Havens through the front door versus the stage door. I was going to see my granddaughter begin her performance journey.

I wasn’t really familiar with the audience side of the theater, but I don't think there had been any major changes. Havens was full of parents, siblings, and grandparents who’d come to see their family member perform. My pride is why I called this her performance when, in reality, it was a performance of several groups of students from the local dance studio. That meant there’d be several performances before and after my granddaughter’s class made their appearance. That’s okay, young kids performing for the first time publicly need all the applause they can get.

As a people watcher, this was an entertaining environment. You could easily tell which parents and relatives had kids currently on the stage. Loud applause, cheering and calling their child’s name, as they leaned forward in their seats enraptured in the performance before them. As someone who didn’t do team sports growing up, it was great to see parents giving the same energy this as those who might sit in the bleachers watching their kids on the field.

When I watched my granddaughter dance with her group of peers, it'd be expected for me to claim she was the most talented kid up there. However, I realized that objectively a lot of what I was seeing was simply her genuine talent, not just my familial pride. 

She held her head up and looked at the audience. You could tell she was concentrating on what she was doing by the expressions on her face, but that was also an outward reflection of the inner workings driving her performance. She radiated calm and confidence. While some kids were a bit confused and stopped between various routines to prepare for the next action (which is normal for a first performance on stage) she flowed fluidly from one thing to the next. Did she remember all the routines, or was it just that she knew her motions needed to be tied together rather than seen as separate bits? She has stage presence.

When the show was over, we met backstage to present her with flowers; she had done an exceptional job and deserved the praise. More than that, she now owned that stage and I was okay passing it on to her, as she deserved to be there.

From the first time I took the stage as a Kindergartener (toy soldier in a Christmas play) I felt the electricity that is live performing. Throughout my life, I have found great joy being on stage, and it has been my go-to place for recharging and rebirth. Be it a theatre with a large cast, a club or coffeehouse with just a friend or two, or in a train station or around a campfire with just my guitar I have found great satisfaction in that connection with an audience be they large or small. Some of us have been fortunate enough to thrive on the exchange of energy that feeds the performer while entertaining the watcher. 

The only two things I wanted to do on stage which I never got around to were sword fighting and tap dancing. Not sure I will ever get around to those, but that’s okay. As I hand off the spotlight to my insanely talented granddaughter, I know she will do that and more.  

The highest praise I ever received came from a fellow performer, years after we had on stage together. She called me a natural on stage. Thanks but I’m not really one to judge that, Susie. However, I have no doubts that my granddaughter is a natural performer.

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