Compare these two videos. Notice any difference between them? Same song, "slightly" different presentation.
and now for something completely different...
Is one better than the other or are they just "different"? I know what Uncle Jeff would say, but I know a few folks that would lean the other way. It's not just in the approach, but also the audience. Different strokes for different folks.
Or sometimes are things just bad?
Who defines what's good and what isn't? What's cool and what's not ? (I was going to say lame, but I didn't think that would be cool). One man's trash is another man's treasure. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What's in and what's out? ...and on and on and on...It truly does come down to your own personal view, doesn't it? Or does it?
Once you realize that everyone has the right to their own opinion and being comfortable enough with yours to listen to theirs, everything gets a little easier. You're liberated to speak up...to take a chance....to write a blog...to enjoy the music YOU like...to watch a movie that You enjoy..to read a book that YOU want to read...to be yourself.
But it's not always that way , is it? You still catch yourself wanting to be with the "popular" people. You still worry about how you're perceived....what you wear...what you say....we're still that kid in middle school that wants to fit in. You want to be cool.
And so it goes.
I'll leave you with this.
Roses are red, mustaches are toaster, this poem makes no sense, pencils.
My god, what a gorgeous day. It's gotta be one of the top five weather days of all time. To be in the top five it has to be a day unexpected by it's gorgeousness....85 degrees and sunny in mid July doesn't count...that's what we expect...although we seldom get it, we do expect it. At least I do (and you should too).
Since I keep a record of these beautiful days (remember,this is a work of fiction, right?...or is it? You'd think I'd know, being the author (and I use that term loosely) and all).
Nice use of double parentheses there...
First ...today's clip...in honor of John's birthday tomorrow (if I get this posted today)...
Anyway, to the best of my memory, here's the top five...totally subjective and these would be top five for no one else...just me.
5) May 4, 1974. Record low humidity. This enabled a nine year old kid (me) to hit a homerun at little league tryouts (ball was carrying well that day). Crowd (of 12) went wild....made me run the bases, just like Babe Ruth (except I'm not left handed, or bow legged, and I wasn't drunk when I hit it). I was the talk of Thornton Heights Elementary school the next week. The dark side of this story is that this was the highlight of my sports career (unless you count that unassisted triple play I turned on my slow pitch softball team...unassisted unless you count the other team being too drunk to run the bases as an assist...I don't). So in a sense, my years as an athlete were in a slow and steady decline after this day.
4) September 29, 1979. Coolest day/night of the Fall. This enabled me to have the stamina to stand up front against the barricade at the first concert I ever attended. Cheap Trick. Cheap Trick at the height of their Live at Budokan run. I knew EVERY word of EVERY song on that album (did I date myself by calling that an album), and though I haven't listened to that "album" in probably 25 years, I bet I still do. So I sang, and sweat, and got crushed against the barricade, and I loved it. I even loved after the show, waiting for my friend Kevin's Mom to pick us up (in front of the McDonalds on Congress Street - that isn't there anymore) and watching a fight break out. The excitement of the big city for a 15 year old boy...ROCK N ROLL !!!
3) June 5th, 1975. Hotter than hell. This predates air conditioning (at least in Maine, and in early June) and too early to have to have one of those monstro fans pulled out of storage yet, that used to have two settings....turbo and jet plane. Went to bed with my window open, no screens in yet. Woke up in the middle of the night feeling like there was "something" in my room. Then it happened. Attack. "What the hell was that?" Attack again. A bat...a vampire bat (I'm sure of it) with a wingspan of nearly six feet...or maybe it was six inches, either way...IT WAS A BAT! ...and I WAS OUT OF THERE! Down the thirteen steps to the first floor by leaps and bounds (this was not much more than a year after my glory trip around the bases, so I still had it in me at this point). I burst into my parents room, the room in which they would be sleeping, but not for long..."Mom, Dad, there's a bat in my room!" My Dad, "Go back to bed". Me, "No. there's a bat in my room...I can't go back up there". My Dad, still not registering, "What?"...and so forth and so on until I finally got them out of bed. My Dad's solution was to close "the bastard" in there, which by the way was much easier said than done...seeing as how when we got the wall to wall carpeting installed a few years before the rug wasn't cut "quite right" so that none of the doors would close tightly...anyway...a few feet of rope and a fews hours later, my room was safely cordoned off to be dealt with the next day.
Dealing with it he next day entailed me having to remove everything in my room and bringing it down those stairs and put it in the driveway...why the driveway, I don't know, but to the driveway my stuff went...and by stuff I do mean stuff. (Literal meaning of stuff is something of little meaning, significance, or worth...unless you're an 11 year old boy). Mad magazines (dozens), paperback books (hundreds), comic books (thousands), baseball cards (millions), Playboy magazines (one)...anyways, you get the picture. All with the constant worry of "that bats in here somewhere". After a few hours, a driveway full of my valuables, a lecture from my Dad (not the "titstick" one, but he would have used it , if it had been his repertoire at that point) and no bat.
To cut a long story short...and to get on to numbers two and one, the bat turned up on the curtain rod in the dining room that night. My Mom screamed, our neighbor Jesse Cook whacked it with a broom (bringing down bat, curtains and all), bat got scooped up, tossed into the woods, and that's the end of that. Phew.
What number was that one again?
2) Today. Unseasonably warm, over 80 degrees. Got the lawn taken care of, the gardens cut back, the Halloween decorations up (well mostly up, still have to do the ghosts in the trees, and the windows upstairs have not been turned into eyes peering out onto Clinton street yet) and ran into three friends at the grocery store.
First conversation (in the Produce department) was about the weather (appropriately enough) and somehow led to stories of swimming at Willard Beach in October....and yes, for those of you reading that don't know where Willard beach is, it's in Maine. Maine with the moose and snow and eight months of Winter Maine. Anyway...
Second conversation was in front of the Meat case with an old friend (old in time of friendship not of age...well, ok, maybe of age too, since we've been friends for so long, how could we not be old...unless, one of us was Ponce De Leon and we had discovered the fountain of youth...but, neither of us are, so let's just stick with old, ok?). She told me I was her favorite "facebook" friend...or I told her she was MY favorite "facebook" friend...I don't really recall, mostly because of my age. Either way , it was nice. Except for the people that were interfering with our pleasant conversation by actually trying to do some shopping. "Sorry, but by me blocking you from buying that bacon could have added at least a few days on to your life expectancy".
Third conversation was in front of the milk cooler with a wonderful friend from England (sorry Andy, my other wonderful friend from England). We talked about everything... ..pumpkins.....dogs......husbands and wives...surgeries......helicopters...writing....radio....Paul McCartney...get the picture? I was in no hurry, seeing as how I hadn't hit the frozen food section yet. Nice addition to a wonderful day.
Oh, and another friend gave me the title to this blog. Strolling the kitties. Doesn't get any better than that.
1) Number one...Numero Uno...best day EVER.
September 9, 2001. Beautiful Summer day in the Fall. Wedding day. Setting - Overlooking Higgins Beach Maine. Officiated by the Dad of a dear friend of both of us. Only other person if the wedding party was my wonderful daughter (only daughter at the time). Me and Stef in front of our closest friends with the ocean as our backdrop...the scene almost matched the magnificence of my bride to be. Nice...simple....perfect. I can't tarnish that day with all the nonsense that I used on the prior four.
So, that's it. The best five weather days of all time according to Pete Wildes.
Let me break it down...great song by Michael Penn, but with slightly obscure lyrics.
That's where it helps to have someone with the musical acumen that I've been blessed with.
First off, familiar with this?
Here's the lyrics, with my comments in red To start with, this is one of those boy/girl stories.... So, she says it's time she goes She's running down to the store..probably to pick up a pizza, maybe a bag of chips, probably some beer. Not really important, what is important is that she has no cash and borrows some from him, promising to give him back the change when she gets back. but wanted to be sure I know she hopes we can be friends. Obviously sending him the signal, "There ain't gonna be no change honey". I think, yeah, I guess we can say I The guy is a little self important, notice how he refers to himself in the first person, actually both singular and plural, so would that be first people? ..or first and second people? but didn't think to ask her why "Where's my money?" she blocked her eyes and drew the curtains ...obviously a diversionary tactic with knots I've got yet to untie. This is a poetic device called an iambic pentameter onomatopoeia alliteration (you'll have to trust me on this one) (chorus) The chorus is the part of the song that is repeated two or three times, depending on the laziness of the writer. It's also the part you keep singing to yourself when you can't remember any other words to the song. Tell me that's not the case with this song. what if I was Romeo in black jeans We all know Romeo, but what many don't know about Romeo was that he is actually the original "Man from Nantucket" from the infamous "Man from Nantucket" poem written by William Shakespeare what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth Heathcliff was the famous cartoon cat that wasn't nearly as funny as Garfield...and that's saying something because Garfield was about as funny as Family Circus, easily one of the most unfunny comics ever written maybe she's just looking for someone to dance with. Lap dancing I guess we can say I See, it was just too soon to tell and looking for some parallel parallel was used here because it made more sense to rhyme that with tell than it was with smell can be an endless game. whatever We said goodbye before hello Obviously stolen from that Beatles classic Hello Goodbye, which we all know is about Siamese twins stuck in a room full of mirrors (maybe I'll explain that song another time, this one has me almost worn out). my secrets she will never know If she knew, it wouldn't be a secret then, would it? and if I dig a hole to China Which, by the way, we all know is impossible...but, if you fell into that impossible hole to China it would take you two and a half days to fall all the way through I'll catch the first junk to Soho. Typo..He meant SoPo, as in South Portland. The junk he is referring to would be my first car, a 1974 Ford Maverick , which if he had just taken the time to get to know, he would of realized what a lost classic that was and how it bridged the gap between the Ford Falcon and the Ford Fairmont. If you owned a Mercury Comet, it was essentially the same car. (chorus) what if I was Romeo in black jeans? what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth. maybe she's just looking for someone to dance with. Do I have to explain this again?...please see the first chorus in case you forgot Sometime from now you'll bow to pressure. That's bow as in the intransitive verb meaning "to bend the head, body, or knee in reverence, submission, or shame and not bow as in "bow tie pasta". some things in life you cannot measure by degrees. remember in elementary school when we'd have to watch all of those movies about the metric system...how we had to learn the metric system because that is what the rest of the world used...how the U.S. was going to be using the metric system by 1980...well, 212 degrees fahrenheit = 100 degrees celsius. I'm between the poles and the equator. Which, by the way, could put you in Rangeley Maine don't send no private investigator to find me please unless it's James Garner, who playes Jim Rockford from "The Rockford Files"..remember that one? 'less he speaks Chinese "unless" and can dance like Astaire overseas. no a stair...Astaire..you know, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers Fred Astaire. The greatest American dancer of all time...with the possible exception of Elaine Benes (from Seinfeld). what if I was ... Fill in the blank....what if I was an Oscar Mayer wiener...or I was three inches taller...or what if I didn't know how to swim...or what if I was purple so what if I was... again, fill in the blank, but it has to rhyme with the prior line. Hopefully you didn't go with the one that ended with purple... maybe she's just looking for someone to dance with. "Nobody puts baby in a corner" - Dirty Dancing 1987 (chorus) what if I was Romeo in black jeans? so what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth. maybe she's just looking for someone to dance with. really, the chorus again?..... So, hopefully you'll hear this song with a new appreciation of the true meaning of the lyrics, giving you a deeper appreciation for the art of choosing the right word and how it adds layers of complexity that you never knew existed before. ...next time we tackle Frank Zappa. You're welcome.
So my beautiful wife turns to me the other night and says, "You talk to much about death".
I say, incredulously, "What do you mean I talk to much about death? I don't talk to much about death".
Says she, "Your blogs all have something to do about death".
Apparently she had something there...reminiscing about my Dad (dead)...songs I want played at my funeral (death)... life and death (ummm, death), so I guess that cliffhanger I mentioned earlier will have to wait.
So what to write about?...hum dee dum..
got it.
Beer.
First a video from my second favorite band of all time...
So, I like beer, although I'm not really much of a beer drinker, really I'm not. I go days without as much as a swig...a six pack can reside in my fridge for weeks at a time...I'm as apt to have a tall glass of water as I am a beer when I got out to dinner.
But, don't get me wrong, I'm no teetotaler, not remotely. I can "drink too much" ( as the amateurs say) a couple of times a year. By the way, Missy- if you're reading this , I still need to apologize to your Dad for a conversation I had with him at a Sea Dogs game this year.....
Anywho, back to me liking beer.
I cut my teeth on , of all things, Colt 45 (had to be 16oz cans) and Haffenreffer bottles, with the rebus' under the cap. Go figure...and while you're at it, here's a Haffenreffer cap to figure out on your own.
When my friends switched to Budweiser or Miller or Pabst Blue Ribbon, I stepped into Heineken or Beck's..which began my journey into "good" beer snobbery. Although I'll bet I digressed when I'd be drinking out of the red solo cups in the woods or golf courses or sand pits of SoPo.
And why beer do you ask ? (do you?). I attribute that to an unfortunate incident that was equal parts southern comfort and vomit. Hope weren't eating.
I digress....
Some of my favorites would include
most of the Shipyard line up, especially the seasonals
Ubu Ale, which I discovered on a business trip to Lake Placid
Gritty's, well just because (by the way I'm now the owner of mug #222...it had to be something I'd remember)
Peak's Organic, because every best of list has to have something organic on it nowadays, doesn't it?
Top of the list for me...Magic Hat. Especially #9. That's my go to beer...and would you believe I can now count the magician that created this wonder as a friend of mine...although he still won't go for that Scratch Pete's Fresh Nuts idea (that is, in case you were wondering, a reference to a facebook post prior to facebook going all haywire on everyone). ..and maybe in some way the sayings under the Magic Hat caps bring me back to my Haffenreffer days....nah, I think that might be a stretch
Well, I think that's enough for now. No beers were hurt, opened , or drank during the writing of this blog, although I hear a Magic Hat calling my name from the kitchen.
A toast: Here's health to those I love and wealth to those who love me.
Why not?...
Not looking to be morbid, but for anyone that wants to keep a tally , here are a few songs that I'd encourage to be played at my funeral (assuming that you, dear reader, outlasts me on the big rock we call home). I think it's this dreary day (and the last day of Summer at that) that inspired this. Well, that ,and looking for a way to get some music on these sorry blogs of mine. Here's the first five...next batch to be continued at a later date. Somebody write these down....
Have to have Harry Nilsson...he's pulled me out of some miserable depths in the past with his lugubriousness
...This Warren Zevon song hits me pretty hard..knowing it was one of the last things he had ever done, and him knowing he was on his deathbed when he recorded it.
One of my favorite Talking Heads songs....probably a better option than Psycho Killer...
Love these lyrics...Can't you picture this?...Doesn't this put you there? Great writing.... You're in the back seat laying down The windows wrap around To sound of the travel and the engine All you hear is time stand still in travel And feel such peace and absolute The stillness still that doesn't end But slowly drifts into sleep The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen And they're there for you For you alone you are the everything
And I said five, right?
Has to be a Beatles song...although I do kind of like this cover.
So five for now....five more at a later date.
Did someone get these?
Picture this...
Early morning only one awake in the house. A little groggy, in the bathroom...windows open.
The sound of a lighthouse, deep and long. A second sound, a handful of seconds later...another lighthouse replies, a little higher pitched, a little shorter sound, maybe a little farther away (but then again maybe closer).
The first answers back in the same voice it used the first time. Then the "little" lighthouse, but a little closer in time than before. It answers in it's own good time. No need for perfect timing between sounds. Actually it's the slight irregularity that makes it so perfect.
Before the first lighthouse gets another chance, I pick up the sound of a bell in the background. I imagine it's a buoy, a big one, somewhere between the two lighthouses, pitching back and forth with the rolling of the waves.
A sound that can only be replicated in the ocean. Was it two clangs or four, or the echoes of two that sounds like four?
Then the lighthouses, in tandem this time. The sound perfectly synced on top of one another. More harmonious than anything I've ever heard.
For that brief moment I can appreciate my lot in life. Where I live. Who I am. Why I'm here.
I'm satisfied, and serene.
Things are good.
Everything is clear...I'm at peace.
But it doesn't last. It can't. There's work...deadlines...be someplace at a certain time, oh, wait, is that today or tomorrow? Did I have to be in early today...or was it late, or is that next week..or maybe yesterday. Did I remember what I told myself yesterday I couldn't forget, or did I have to remind myself today about something I needed to do tomorrow. I think there's practice after school, but do I have to leave early or did I arrange for someone else to do it....or is it dance...or am I supposed to go out to dinner after work, or was that Stef, and I have to be home by 5:00..or is that Tuesday, like last year, or do I remember seeing that's now Wednesday this year, if I could just find that paper, or email, or note sent home from the teacher, or text from my boss. ...and aren't there some library books around here somewhere, I think there's one missing, or maybe I never took it out, but meant to...oh, and it's trash day, I should have put it out tonight because they come so early I don't want to miss the truck, and I can't forget I have clothes in the dryer, so I'll have to iron in the morning and I'm sure I have to get in before 7:00 so that means I'll have to get up by 5:30 so I can get lunch made because there's nothing good to eat and I hope there some fresh fruit in the fridge because I can't send her to school with goldfish again or can I...
So my Dad...
Don't know why , but one of my strongest memories of my Dad is one word he once said to me..but I'll get to that in a minute.
First let me draw you a little picture of my Dad. Dad was a big man in every way...big build, big personality, big presence, big heart. Everyone knew my Dad. As a kid, everywhere we went (and I do mean everywhere) people would know him. Still happens, although less so now than when he was alive...but it was maybe about a month ago it happened again. It's always the same thing..."You're Wilbur's boy? I knew your Dad. How's you Mom ?" ..and then usually some anecdote about a memory of him and how he somehow fit into their life. Always something nice and usually something that resonated with that person to keep it as a memory. What a great legacy to leave. Would be proud to leave that as a legacy myself, but I've got a ways to go to achieve that, methinks.
I always saw Dad as a leader, the center of his large group of friends. Sort of the Frank Sinatra to his own extended Rat Pack. Or maybe more so like John Wayne...always a twinkle behind that solid exterior. Dad was cool without truly knowing what cool meant. But then again, maybe he did know all along, either way..absolutely someone to emulate, someone you were happy to have known, someone you are proud to have crossed paths with.
One thing Dad rarely showed was his temper. I remember one time playing pass with him in the back yard. Must have been about this time of the year, because if I recall correctly, an errant throw by son number three (me) bypassed my intended target (Dad) and instead went through three storm windows that were leaning against the house. Don't remember anything else about that, but I'm sure if Dad had a negative reaction I would have.
One time I do remember Dad getting mad was this....(once again a little back ground is needed).
Dad was many things, but one thing that he definitely was not, was mechanically inclined (which , by the way, he did pass down to me - thanks Dad), but he did somehow have every conceivable tool known to man either in the garage or in the basement. This was probably because whenever something needed to be fixed , it was always one of Dad's friends that came over to do it, and I guess in my father's mind the proper protocol in that situation was, "If they're doing it for you, the least you can do it have the right tools ready for them".
So back to the time I remember Dad getting mad involved him replacing a toilet seat. Now we've all (even me) replaced toilet seats, right ? Loosen the two screws that hold the bolts that attach the seat to the toilet, lift off the old seat, put on the new one, and attach the screws. Voila', you're sitting pretty again, (so to speak). Well somehow to Dad that job ended up needing a screwdriver and a hammer, with the act of chiseling taking place. Picture, if you will, a Screwdriver being pounded by a hammer as a chisel directly into porcelain. Not sure but I'll bet it wasn't much past the first or second "thwack" when Dad split the toilet bowl...not in two, but more like in four. I remember Dad's face turning a shade of red that Sherman Williams would market as "Incensed Wilbur". He started to storm around the house swinging that screwdriver and hammer like the God of Thunder. I was afraid they might have found their way through the bathroom door the same way Rico Petrocelli's throw in the back yard found it's way through the storm windows. I think of this exact scenario EVERY SINGLE TIME I use a tool. To this day. I truly do.
So, back to that word.
Picture an honor role student, bringing home his first progress report indicating a failing grade. The honor role student was me, in case I needed to clarify, and home was where I was living at the time, in case I needed to clarify even further. (and if that is the case, please stop reading this blog now and go back to brushing up on your 5th grade English class). I don't recall the year (although it may have been 8th grade)...don't even recall the teacher or course...although Mrs. Hladke and German (German, why the f*#% German - that got me far) are a distinct possibility.
Dad , upon seeing this shocking turn of events from his most scholarly of all four of his kids (don't deny it) uttered the phrase that contained the word that I will always remember...
"Pete, you better get on the titstick"
That's it. Titstick.
Don't know what a (or the) titstick is. But I got the message and I got on it.
I've actually used that same word , in similar situations, and no one has ever questioned it, and the point has always gotten through.
So do me a favor, if you ever are in a situation when you can use the word titstick, please do so, and think of my Dad.
Going to give this a go.
Nobody has ever said to me, "why don't you write a blog?" I never even considered it until my lovely wife asked me last night, "What's that song that goes - I really love your peaches want to shake your tree?" After my quick answer (music trivia has always been a personal strength - some folks can build things, I can tell you Badfingers top three hits). When I got to the pompatus of love line I thought to myself, "now that's a great word and doesn't get nearly the play it deserves", hence, this ridiculous endeavour on my part. That's how my brain works. Maybe at some point I'll actually bother to learn how to create a layout beyond the kindergarten level that is this first crack. So it goes.
Don't know what to expect, how often I'll post, or if I'll have anything interesting to share. A few things I do know...this will suck for awhile...I expect nothing beyond rank amateurism for quite some time..probably won't land on a theme or style (other than the parentheses and dot dot dot...that I obviously use as my fall back punctuation).
Sure there will be the occasional flash of genius - like the awesomeness of the name of my blog- but more often than not it will be the meandering and noodling style that I'm currently employing, but all things considered...who doesn't love to meander and noodle once in awhile.
Speaking of noodles, here's what Mr. Noodle does with a banana... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBOsz03ZZZ0
(the sole reason for that was to see if I could execute a link)
Anyway, don't know how to share this...if anyone would read it anyway...or if this is my first and last.
