Is there anything better than a memory to bring about emotions? I mean, real, raw, pure emotion. Unequivocated joy, racking sorrow, wistful dreams, or whatever else the moment holds; memory holds the puppet strings to the heart.
Now some may argue that living in the moment is better, but I would say that as soon as you enjoy the moment, it is a memory. The moment passed with awe-sinspiring quickness, and all that is left is the vapor trail in your mind's eye. We could all go on and on about memories that have left their marks on our souls, but, since it's my blog, I'll be the one going on and on. ;-)
At this moment, I'd like to talk about Pop. My dad. Sure there are too many memries to mention in one blog post, so I'll narrow it down a little. Is it coming home from busting his hump all day and helping me/coaching me until dark? Now that was nice, but it was never really his thing, so I'll move on. Was it coming home from the Gulf after the Desert Storm? Unforgettable, but no. We've seen lots of great movies (when we didn't get along so great & we didn't have to talk much) but that's not where I'm going. Or how about some more recent trips (now that we are both older and get along better)? Nope, not those either, although those have been good as well.
The one constant between my dad and I that I can remember with vivid clarity is music. We don't always agree on selections. He has some talent in the area, I have none; apart from recognition of quality. Matter of fact, I am the only non-musical person in my family. But I digress. From early days sitting and listening to records on headphones; old tracks by Frank and Mel Torme, to riding up front on road trips while Mom at in the back, listening to Highwaymen. And on to the first present I bought with my own, hard-earned money at my first job--an Aerosmith concert, which became yearly tradition. Or a Father's day trip to Austin to see ZZ Top, or trading e-mails about tracks, or having long conversations about what was setting our hair on fire at the moment, old or new. (His hair must burn quicker) These memories are my favorites. These are what I hope to never forget about Dad.
We are both passionate about our choices, and its one area where we don't have too many disagreements. He doesn't enjoy any rap, where I appreciate some quality. I am not huge into some of his classical choices. But these are minor. Especially compared to some of the other doozies we've had over the years. What makes it so great is that music is so vast and ever-changing, that we will be creating new memories all the time. And we can re-visit old discussions. Tastes change, as we all know, and a song you used to not like, you may enjoy now. Or even better, one you haven't heard in a long time gets played on the radio; I mean how great is that?
So thanks, Pop. Thanks for giving me an appreciation of music. Thanks for taking the journey with me. Most of all, thanks for being a great Dad, I love you.
Where'd this all come from? "La Grange" was on the radio here today. Such a great tune. Cranked it up and hoped my kids enjoyed it. Better yet, I hope they remember it.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Its nice
It sure is nice to feel welcome. Everyone likes to feel welcome, right? It is a great feeling to walk into someplace and see a familiar face or even just a smiling one sometimes. I can't think of anybody who would LIKE to be shunned and excluded. Hmmm...
I got asked many things about being here while I was back visiting over the holidays, but one question that was most asked was, "are the people nice?" My standard response was, "well, sure, but its a different kind of nice." And then I would go into how, where and how I was raised, if someone new moved into the neighborhood, you went and knocked on the door, offered your name and a handshake--at the VERY least--and likely a cassserole or cookies. People are more reserved here, they are friendly, polite, but mostly quiet and keeping to themselves. I appreciate that, and it might be different if we lived closer to the city. While it is strange, I am adapting.
I am adapting, mainly, because of the wonderful people at our family oriented village pub. Not only have the owners, landlords, and staff welcomed me and the family, the regulars have as well. We are to the point where we now get invited for things. One guy has invited me to learn squash, one to take me to a WWII museum, and the golf society opened up to me right away.
Most of all though, the landlord, Mitch and his partner, Sarah have made me feel most at home. I, the new, American guy, have been invited to Mitch's 30th birthday on Saturday! I think that is pretty great. One of those, once in a lifetime shindigs, and they invited me. I am very excited to go and very humbled they invited me. Not that I should have expected it, but Mitch lets me know if they have something new, or something going on--like a random wine tasting to help pick new wines for the pub; they got us a card at Christmas, and even one at Thanksgiving, trying to show their hospitality. Really sweet.
They are wonderful ambassadors for the community as well, volunteering, raising money for causes, handling village functions, and being a information point for all things in the region. They are well liked, well respected, and on top of it all they run a first rate pub. Top quality food, Ales, and conversation.
They are really a credit to England, this region, and our generation. Thank you Mitch and Sarah for your friendship this first stretch of our stay here. I, for one, would have been lost without you guys!
I got asked many things about being here while I was back visiting over the holidays, but one question that was most asked was, "are the people nice?" My standard response was, "well, sure, but its a different kind of nice." And then I would go into how, where and how I was raised, if someone new moved into the neighborhood, you went and knocked on the door, offered your name and a handshake--at the VERY least--and likely a cassserole or cookies. People are more reserved here, they are friendly, polite, but mostly quiet and keeping to themselves. I appreciate that, and it might be different if we lived closer to the city. While it is strange, I am adapting.
I am adapting, mainly, because of the wonderful people at our family oriented village pub. Not only have the owners, landlords, and staff welcomed me and the family, the regulars have as well. We are to the point where we now get invited for things. One guy has invited me to learn squash, one to take me to a WWII museum, and the golf society opened up to me right away.
Most of all though, the landlord, Mitch and his partner, Sarah have made me feel most at home. I, the new, American guy, have been invited to Mitch's 30th birthday on Saturday! I think that is pretty great. One of those, once in a lifetime shindigs, and they invited me. I am very excited to go and very humbled they invited me. Not that I should have expected it, but Mitch lets me know if they have something new, or something going on--like a random wine tasting to help pick new wines for the pub; they got us a card at Christmas, and even one at Thanksgiving, trying to show their hospitality. Really sweet.
They are wonderful ambassadors for the community as well, volunteering, raising money for causes, handling village functions, and being a information point for all things in the region. They are well liked, well respected, and on top of it all they run a first rate pub. Top quality food, Ales, and conversation.
They are really a credit to England, this region, and our generation. Thank you Mitch and Sarah for your friendship this first stretch of our stay here. I, for one, would have been lost without you guys!
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