Tag: 1964

Monday’s Theme Music

The moon’s visit moved beyond normal to sublime. Sometimes a clear night hosts a moon that lights the night and finds something more primal and hopeful in the mind. Last night’s moon was one of these, romantic and inspirational, a moon with light that whispers, “the impossible is possible.” No wonder a moon like that is spoken of in sentences about magic, fairies, and spaceships.

It’s January 16, 2023. It’s Monday. It’s 30 degrees F and sunny. It’s calm. It’s a new week’s start. Happy New Week! Have you made any New Week resolutions? I have. Of course I have. I don’t do NY ones, but I do daily, weekly, and monthly resolutions. You only fail if you give up trying, am I right? Some people place the week’s start on Sunday. I consider Saturday and Sunday neutral ground. The week begins on Monday and ends on Friday.

The sun pressed its presence into our valley at 7:37 this morning, coming around like it’s nobody’s business. Daylight will light us up until about 5:05 this evening. Then the sun will set and bring on dusk, followed by night. The cold front will keep our high from getting much above 42 F. Some say that rain is due but the clouds for that job haven’t checked in. Snow is visible in far fields on high mountains, appearing like cake frosting on the ridges’ pines and firs. It’s a tranquil blue-sky sight.

News continues emerging about President Biden and the classified documents found at his home and office. This turn pisses me off more than Trump’s classified doc scandal. I thought Joe Biden was responsible and this oversight, this sloppiness, is infuriating. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. With high secret clearances and active in special access programs, dealing with classified material, including stuff that was Top Secret with special qualifiers, including nuclear war plans, launch codes, attack plans, and intelligence materials, I was frequently the Top-Secret Control Officer, the unit security manager, and also often the OPSEC/COMSEC and COMPUSEC manager. I took it seriously. My peers, commanders, and those we supervised all took it very damn seriously. I was appointed as an investigator several times when processes failed or people violated the governing regs and laws. Trump’s conniving to keep some classified documents ‘as his own’ insulted our efforts to keep the nation safe by properly protecting such material. Joe Biden’s sloppiness — or worse, as the investigations are only under way — undermines our systems as well. President Biden has at least acknowledged that what has happened is bad, unlike Trump, who dances and shouts, trying to deflect blame and responsibility, squeaking out ridiculous justifications for what he did.

Okay, off the soap box. Today’s music is “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”. I went with the Animals version of 1964. Besides being the version seared into my memory by radio play repetition, I’ve always liked Eric Burdon. I also enjoyed the band’s keyboard use and the gritty blues sound they brought to their performances. The Neurons decided on this song and put it in the morning mental music stream after conversations with the cats. They were asking for something and I didn’t understand what it was. The felines’ insistence was the final driver for Les Neurons. Listening to them, Eric Burdon’s voice just rose from the depths of memory to sing, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” And there we were.

Try to stay positive. I know it can be tough. I feel less than positive on many days. Right now, I’m positive that I would murder a cup of coffee so I’m heading to the kitchen for that black brew. I’m excited just thinking about it! Here’s the music. Hope your week takes you to new heights. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunrise in Pittsburgh on Saturday, September 17, 2022, brought diffused yellow light to the steel city. 7:02 AM, it would take time to heat the chilly air. Summer was heading south for the winter. Fall was making its move.

Now at ten AM, heat has stirred the thermometer to 16 C. 81 F is where the air temp is expected to go before the sun’s impact shuts down at 7:28 PM.

Staying in Mom’s home, where she’s resided for over thirty years, I’m struck by both change and stasis, again. Some things about the house are so familiar and have been as they always were. That’s not in the architecture or layout but in the details of décor and organization. Mom’s authority and control is seen in every niche and nook. She decides all. This allows me to visit as if I’ve always been here. Just remember her habits and how she organizes, and everything can be found. Probably true for most people, especially when they’ve inhabited a space for so long, but I feel it more deeply with this place of Mom’s. Of course, it’s absolutely clean – cleaning is her therapy as writing is mine – she has told me that she loves to clean, because I thought it something imposed on her, but no, she says, no – and also inside that organized structure is bizarre chaos. Wild how the two co-exist.

Thought of change prods The Neurons to resurrect a favorite song in the morning mental music stream. “A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke came out in 1964, when I was eight. It’s been part of existence’s fabric for almost my entire life, and it has always spoken to me. I’m not alone in this; Sam plugged into something special when he created this song. For today, though, I’m going with a Beth Hart version. She infuses it with that same strength of belief and sincerity that I hear in Sam’s voice. Hope you hear it, too. In some ways, she reminds me of Janis Joplin with this song.

Stay positive and test negative. Here’s the music. I’m off for a second cup of coffee. I’ll go out on the porch into the sunshine-warmed breeze to enjoy it. Enjoy the world in the best way you can. Cheers

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An Easter Memory

Preparing for an Easter brunch with friends prompted my neurons to pull up a memory. I was young, in my crewcut years. Honing in on the period, I was living in Wilkinsburg, PA, attending Turner Elementary School on Laketon Road, and going to my grandparents’ house in Irwin for Easter. So, it was 1964 and I was seven going on eight.

Dad was in Turkey or Greece on military assignment. He and Mom were divorced, and she was now a single mother working as a Bell Telephone operator, raising me and two sisters. I was the middle in this child sandwich. Mom and my Dad’s parents coordinated an Easter visit, probably so Mom could work the holiday and get the extra pay. She went all out that year, buying us new Easter clothes. It was a suit for me – blue and cream houndstooth jacket with a smart dark blue vest which matched my dark blue pants. I wore a clip-on tie. Black and white photographic evidence exists somewhere, but they’re in boxes on shelves in the garage that require an expedition along the lines of an archaeological expedition looking for a lost civilization, so it’ll need to hold for another day. On that Easter morning, we found three enormous baskets waiting for us. We were spoiled children, so there were large chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, peeps, marshmallow eggs, hard-boiled eggs which we’d dyed the day before, and a large coconut chocolate egg, all in pink, yellow, and green baskets with fake green grass made out of fine, shiny plastic. After discovering our baskets, we hunted for eggs around the apartment and then dressed in our new duds. My Uncle Bill, Dad’s youngest brother, picked us up in his brown Plymouth Fury and conveyed us to grandma and grandpa’s where we dined with all the area aunts, uncles, and cousins. Grandpa prepared his favorite, a ham. He baked one whenever he had a chance. (Uncle Bill would trade in that Fury in a few years and buy a year-old dark green Dodge Charger that had me and my friends drooling on its vinyl bucket seats. It was such a cool car.)

Mom joined us after dinner. The adults told us to go play or watch television while they gathered in the dining room for card games, focusing on the traditional family favorite, Tripoli. They were all smoking back then – Pall Mall, Lucky Strike, Kent, Kool. Several adults enjoyed beer such as American lagers like Iron City and Stroh’s, but whiskey sours were also very popular.

Yes, it’s my favorite memory. Smelling a Pall Mall or one of those other cigarettes whisks me right back there. It’s rare that such smoke touches my nose in these days. As for those beers, I found them light and tasteless. Over in Japan, I often indulged in beer from Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, I drank whatever was brewed in that country, but they had some excellent offerings everywhere. By the time I returned to the US, the craft brew industry was booming.

Today, though, brunch with friends outside, with the sun shining and laughter ringing across the yard, will be another favorite memory. Another favorite, but of another kind. Nobody smoked cigarettes. No alcohol was consumed. A potluck brunch, salmon was served with grilled asparagus along with several sorts of potato dishes, delicious quiches, fruit salad, and cinnamon muffins.

It’s a long, long way from Pittsburgh, PA, in 1965 to Ashland, OR, 2022.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Welcome to Tuesday, December 28, 2021. It’s 28 degrees F out there, so wear your warmest sandals.

Sunrise came at 7:39 AM, showing that the snow is still out there. Had fifteen inches on the ground yesterday. We shoveled off the walk and driveway and removed the snow wall the plow had kindly built for us. This morning, all was covered by a fresh two inches. Everything was closed, canceled, or shut yesterday in our little town — well, everything except grocery stores, hospitals, and emergency services. They all functioned. It’ll get up to 36 F today, so we might get some relief if the weather system can move on the clouds and let the sun in. After sunset at 4:46 PM, the temperature is expected to drop locally to 19 degrees F. Yes, that’s chilly for us.

These snow levels are not consistent across the area. We’re in a valley. Houses are on the valley floor and up the mountain slopes. My house sits at about 1800 feet. Some friends higher than me reported that they had two feet of snow. Others who are lower in the valley received two to three inches. Up the Interstate twenty minutes where the valley is broad and wide, a buddy reported he had two inches. Three thousand feet higher than me, down the road ten minutes, they received sixty inches.

Weirdly, I have a song by the Beatles in the morning mental music stream. “I Feel Fine” came out in 1964. I remember neighbor girls playing a 45 RPM record of the song on a little pink and white portable phonograph on their back patio but that was a few years later, probably in 1966. I guess that because, while I was young, we’d moved to a new neighborhood then, our fourth one in five years. A lot of moves, houses, and schools, but it helps organize and structure my memories, if you know what I mean. I suspect the song is housed in the stream because my wife and I were talking about The Beatles with friends last week. My wife confesses that she didn’t like the Beatles. Never thought them that great. Which, shrug, is fine, because tastes are different, as are choices and circumstances. That’s life, which is another song now playing in my head (covered by Frank Sinatra), but we’ll go into that another day. I think “I Feel Fine” is in my head because I like that opening bit of feedback they incorporated. I’ve gone with a live version of the song so that feedback note is missing (ironic, right), but I enjoy flashing back to these live performances of groups and the changes between now and then so sharpy etched. Guess it feeds my nostalgia.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the jabs and boosters as needed. Speaking of getting, I’m getting some coffee. Make it hot and black.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Good morning, peeps. Today is Wednesday, October 13, 2021 in our slice of the valley. Rain is descending. Began last night and just was having so much fun, it kept going. Not heavy rain. Sporadic. Sprinkles to light, you know?

Temperatures are hovering in the mid-forties right now. Expect to flutter toward the mid-fifties before winding down to a cold 34 F for the night. With those brooding, swollen clouds out there, don’t expect much sun relief. Sunrise petered in at 7:21 AM. Sunset comes at 6:32 PM.

Heavy dream play for me last night. Vignettes that danced with memories, leaving me with fading thoughts about things that happened before and questions about what happened to different childhood friends. One of them was John. Haven’t seen him since I was sixteen. He and I hung out all the time between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Then just moved away from one another like a magnet’s polar opposites.

But he’s responsible for today’s morning mental music stream. He brought my attention to a song called “Leader of the Pack” by the Shangri-Las. The song came out in 1964 but John and I were probably talking about it a few years after that. He didn’t care for the song. No; he said, “That sucked.” What John liked was the motorcycle sounds imbued in the music. Early signs were emerging that he was destined to be a motorhead. I later heard through friends and family that he’d moved to North Carolina and opened up a garage. Get the picture?

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Let’s be safe out there. Now. Need to see a machine about a cup of coffee. Here’s the music. Enjoy.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

I found myself remembering some Bob Dylan lines this morning.

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
“Rip down all hate,” I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull, I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow

[Refrain]
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now

h/t to Genius.com

This song, “My Back Pages”, is by Bob Dylan. I was more familiar with the Byrds’ version which came out in 1967. It struck me as I was moving toward my teens and getting my footing in the music that moved me. I’ve always thought it was about learning and changing, which fit my evolving philosophy.

So I sought the song today, thinking it fit these times, and found this version. Featuring Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Eric Clapton, Roger McGuinn, Neil Young, George Harrison, people I think are pretty good musicians, it’s the 1992 Bob Dylan tribute concert from 1992.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

An old but apropos song hit my mental music stream last night. Maybe it was the sunshine and rain. Could be that the green full trees and blossoms cast a spell on me. Probably a combo of that, along with restless mind syndrome, but the weeks of limited movement and near-continuous confinement gave me a jab.

“We gotta get out of this place,” I sang to my wife, remembering the 1964 hit by the Animals. “If it’s the last thing we ever do.”

Here it is. Turn it up. Sing along. “We Gotta Get Out of this Place”. Watch the video. Dig that set.

 

 

 

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Monday’s Theme Music

Thinking about a big coming out party, someday, after the crises is resolved. (A.C.: After COVID-19. We’ll start a new reference system – “In 2 AC, the first normal baseball game was played.”) Maybe the theme should be dancing in the streets.

The song, “Dancing in the Street”, and its many versions jumped into the stream. I do enjoy the Mick and David version. But I don’t want to show favoritism, so here’s a few offerings. Looking at them, I’m surprised that it has sprung up as a new cover by some one, like, I don’t know, Kelly Clarkson.

David Bowie and Mick Jagger, 1985. Boy, the disco era is really displayed in their clothing style. Fitting for responding to a global problem, as this collaboration was done to raise money and awareness for “Live Aid” famine relief.

Martha and the Vandelllas, 1964 – the original, to me.

Van Halen, 1982 – oh, yeah, lots of synthesizer.

Mama and the Papas, 1966 – a very mellow version.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

I’ve done this song before, but it’s a throwback, optimistic song. “A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke was inspired by his life experiences. He released it in 1964.

It’s a good, reflective song about trying and being. The chorus is the best part (from Genius.com):

It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh, yes it will

Change has come today, the same changes as every day, every year: the weather, the shadows, the temperature, the month, the date. We’re looking for more permanent changes in other ways, to the way that people act and treat one another. We need changes to the erroneous supposition that same deserve less freedom, less equality, less opportunity, because of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation or gender, or their heritage.

This is a cover by Brian Owens with his father. I enjoyed it, and thought that you might enjoy it, too.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Well, time was up.

Past ‘up’.

I was supposed to have departed the fix about fifteen minutes before, so I was now behind my schedule. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop writing. Coffee was gone, butt was uncomfortable, and my sciatic nerve was causing pain issue from being perched on the coffee shop’s new hard chairs. All the signs were aligned, time to go, mo-fo.

But —

Yes. Closing up with a stern order, go now, I packed it all up, strapped on the backpack, and headed into the sunshine. It was doing little good against the wintry air, but it was in the low 40s, a better place to be than, say, single digits that some in Alaska are enduring, and it’s better than Australia’s fires and blazing heat. So, couldn’t complain.

Walking up the hill, the distinctive piano playing of the Moody Blues cover of “Go Now” (1964) arrived in my stream. It’s a wondrous juxtaposition when the thing you’ve been doing, memories of places and events, and what you’re now doing come together in a perfectly mellow mood. I usually need a beer, a glass of wine, cup of coffee, or the toke of a joint to arrive in such a state.

But here I was, just me and the small town, with myself and music in my head, cold in the air, and sunshine on the other side of the valley.

 

 

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