Posted tagged ‘nostalgia’

Franked

March 19, 2019

cbjme4erwc-42251002478299585773.pngLast week, I was driving down the hill on a Target run, and as I was trying to adjust the GPS unit on the windshield, my wife, Muri, asked if I’d turn down the air conditioning. At 74, doing two things at once is my limit, so I said … in that certain tone of voice … Hold your horses. She gave knowing look and I said, Yes, you’ve been Franked. Frank is, of course, my Dad, and Hold your horses was his favorite response to being told to do something when he was otherwise occupied. For some reason, horses figured prominently in our family’s repertoire of sayings. If you were being a bit uppity to my Mom, she’d offer, Let me hold your high horse while you get off, and if she was tired, she’d say, The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be. But this post is about being Franked, so we’ll leave Mom’s cliches for another day. (more…)

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Music Hopping

March 8, 2019

musicNow that I am semi-retired, I have plenty of time for unproductive activities like word games on my tablet, texting with friends and sitting around doing nothing with my cat, Claude.   And Music Hopping.  Don’t look it up.  You won’t find it.

Music Hopping (v.): randomly searching through a music library or source and playing whatever strikes your fancy.

terryMy latest Music Hop (n. – The act of Music Hopping) started two night’s ago when , on the recommendation of a friend, I watched The Terry Kath Experience, about the founder of Chicago (my favorite rock horn group) on YouTube.   As it is prone to do, YouTube was happy to recommend other musical documentaries, includingsuite performances from Woodstock by Santana (my favorite rock guitarist) and Crosby, Stills, and Nash.   That led me to the documentary, Legends – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young (The best rock harmonies on the planet.  Ever).   Even after years of listening, Suite Judy Blue Eyes still astonishes me.

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Almost Eric

February 6, 2019

ancient musicMy love of music goes back as far as I can remember (and that, my friends, is a stretch of time). But as much as I love listening to music, I have never been proficient at making music. Oh, yes I’ve dabbled with guitars since high school and got to the point where I could play well enough to accompany myself singing popular songs. Singing wasn’t my strong suit either. Twenty or so years ago we bought a piano and the whole family started taking lessons. I lasted the longest and could play a dozen or so of my favorite songs before, inexplicably, I gave it up. Now, the piano sits quietly (and out of tune) in our living room. The same can be said for the three guitars I accumulated in my guitar dabbling days. On the shelf in my office is a native American flute that hasn’t uttered a note since the last time my grandkids were here and just had to try it. (more…)

On the Nose

February 4, 2019

nose

Checking the main page of my blog today, I found that I haven’t posted since January 11. Such absences are all that uncommon during the past few years, during which my posting has probably best described as intermittent. Perhaps sporadic. Or spasmodic. Anyway, I am prone to postless periods of increasing duration. You probably get the point by now. There are reasons besides literary laziness or poster’s block. For example, we are in the process of going through the stuff we’ve accumulated over 17 years in our current house, discarding the stuff that is junk and donating the stuff that is still useful to charity. George Carlin, commenting on the stuff we all keep, said, Have you noticed that their stuff is junk and your junk is stuff? Except he didn’t say junk. Or course, sorting though my stuff takes time that could be spent posting and inevitably, I come across old pictures. Who can resist sitting down to leaf through a pile of memories, which means no posting or sorting.

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Oils Again

January 11, 2019

oilsBack in November of 2017 in Linseed Oil Memories, a post on my art blog, Artsy, about my Mom teaching me to oil paint while I was in high school, I wrote this: If I were asked, “What’s your favorite art medium?” I’d answer, “Oils.” Yet, I haven’t done it for years. Hoping to encourage my Inner Artist to try it again, I asked Santa for oil painting supplies and, with the help of my wife, Muri, I received a wooden artist’s box and easel, along with an assortment of paints and brushes. Yes even a bottle of linseed oil and a can of turpentine. But as November 2018 rolled around, my art supplies were still sitting unused in my office. I needed … if you’ll pardon the expression … a kick in the ass which came from my daughter, Amy. One November afternoonKittens when we were talking on the phone, she asked, Would you want to paint watercolors of my dogs for me for Christmas? Although I paint quite a lot in watercolors, my work tends to be on the impressionistic side in part because I don’t have the patience to do a lot of details in watercolors. So, before I could think, I said, How about if I do them in oils? After all, I’d painted two kittens sixty years ago. It’s like riding a bike, right? (more…)

A Christmas Eve Past

December 24, 2018

wreath

At ten years old, had someone asked me what I liked better, Christmas or Christmas Eve, I wouldn’t even had to think. Christmas, of course. A mere six years later, Christmas was still the favorite, but Christmas Eve had gained a lot of ground. By sixteen, I’d learned to appreciate anticipation of Christmas Eve, my Mom’s happy Christmas mood, the smell of pies9 cooking in the oven and carols on the radio. And, of course, going out with my Dad to pick up gifts from our relatives homes was one of my favorite things of the year. And here I sit at seventy four, looking back nostalgically and I find that many of my favorite memories are of Christmas Eve. And in particular of one about 40 years ago.

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Art History

June 3, 2018

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Recently, I posted an photo of me, my parents, Florence and Frank, and my siblings, Glenn and Pat in the living room of the house I grew up in. That room was the center of my universe from the time we moved there in 1952 until I went off to college. When family … grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins … visited, we sat in the living room. Dad would often move the table from our smallish kitchen to the living room to give us more room for Thanksgiving. Christmas trees were decorated and presents opened there. I told my parents that I had proposed to my college sweetheart there. Dad took countless naps while reading the paper in the chair by the door and I learned my love of classical music listening to Mom’s records on the stereo under the picture window. In my college years, Mom and I would sit up watching Johnny Carson and talking on the sofa under “Dad’s mirror” (he never walked by it without a little gavotte). More than once, he’d call from their bedroom at the end of the hall, Would you two keep it down out there?

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