Gentle On My Mind

I was running errands this afternoon before picking up my stepdaughter, and John Hartford's original version of Gentle On My Mind popped up on my Ipod. As always, I was struck by the beauty of the lyrics, wishing I could write a song a hundredth as good. Glen Campbell had a big hit with the song in the sixties, and used it as the theme song on his television show, the Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour.

John Hartford, a bluegrass, country and folk artist, wrote a lot of the music that was used in the Coen brothers movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?. The soundtrack was a huge success-- I think I remember hearing that it was the best-sellling bluegrass album ever. He won a Grammy for his songs. He passed away of non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which he struggled with for years, not long afterward.

I dug around Youtube and came across Hartford and Campbell duetting on the song, more in the style Hartford did it originally. Thought I'd post it, along with the lyrics to the song, just because I think you need to hear the song.




It's knowin' that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleepin' bag
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it's knowin' I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind

It's not clingin' to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said because
They thought we fit together walkin'
It's just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're movin' on the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind

Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's cryin' to her mother
'cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence
Tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see
You walkin' on the back roads
By the rivers flowin' gentle on my mind

I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin' cracklin' cauldron
In some train yard
My beard a rustlin' coal pile
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands 'round a tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waitin' from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind

At Least One Happy Ending

My regular readers have followed the ordeal of renovation hell that Kim and I endured this summer, including having no running water for over a week, including no shower or bath.

We appreciate having a modern kitchen and bathroom now, but the contractors my landlord hired were, unbeknowest to him, incredibly stupid. They still have work to do-- loose ends to tie up.

To add insult to injury, at one point, Mr. Kissell, an heirloom that had been in Kim's family for decades, disappeared from the back porch, where it had been hanging. Kim was livid. My landlord asked the contractors workers about it and they denied knowing anything about it. We knew that they must haved knocked Mr. Kissell down; we figured they probably threw him away, hoping, somehow, we wouldn't notice his absence.

Then, a couple of weeks later, Mr. Kissell reappeared, broken into pieces, in a box in the garage.

I went to Target and looked at all of the different glues-- I knew that plastic can be very problematic, even for Superglue. I found one that claimed to work even on difficult surfaces; you had to apply a compound to the surfaces before gluing.

It worked. Mr. Kissell lives.

My in-laws are driving in from Minneapolis for a celebration here in Chicago, and are staying with us. Kim emailed me, asking me to do a couple of household chores before they arrived, and asked if I could rehang Mr. Kissell.

I went down to my toolbox in the basement, dug out a spool of wire I'd bought 15 years ago to hang something else, my hammer and some nails. I threaded the wire through hooks in the back of Mr. Kissell, secured the wire and hammered not one, but two nails into the stud, behind the porch swing.

Now, even the stupidest contractor on god's green earth would have trouble knocking Mr. Kissell down, even if he tried.



While I was at it, I hung the Route 66 sign that our dear friends Greg and Christina got for us this summer. They and their daughter, who is my stepdaughter's best friend, drove as much of the old Route 66 that still exists. Very cool.

After the craziness of this summer-- home renovation craziness, job craziness, going back to college craziness, Mr. Kissell MIA craziness-- I'm looking forward to sitting on the back porch this evening with Kim, my in-laws and a glass of red wine and relaxing. I think I've earned it.

The "Keep Your Fingers Crossed" Friday Random Ten

I may have some good news on the job front. Keep your fingers crossed.

1. Shotgun Blues- Jason and the Scorchers
2. What Goes On- The Velvet Underground
3. Take Me Down To Lovers Lane- Robert Mitchum
4. Calling Dr. Love- Shandi's Addiction
5. Little Bit O' Soul- The Music Explosion
6. The Epic- Pat Metheny Group
7. Brooklyn (Owes the Charmer Under Me)- Steely Dan
8. The Usual- John Hiatt
9. Anarchy In the U.K.- The Sex Pistols
10. Bob Dylan- Who Killed Davey Moore?

Notes:
1. Great underappreciated band from the eighties.
2. I somehow missed this song, despite being a huge Velvet Underground fan, until we learned it in a class I took at the Old Town School of Folk music. It's since become a favorite. For all the tawdry content in their music, people forget that VU had a lot of just gorgeous songs.
3. From the great Robert Mitchum calypso album.
4. This is from a Kiss cover album that came out about ten years ago, and belongs in everyone's cd collection.
5. A garage-rock classic from the sixties.
6. I'm not a jazz fan, but love this album, American Garage. Bonus: it has an Airstream on the cover.
7. From Steely Dan's great first album.
8. Bob Dylan did a great, raucous cover of this song.
9. I love the Sex Pistols, but saw recently that Johnny Rotten was claiming that the Pistols were more punk than the Ramones. Yeah, in your dreams, Johnny. Bite me.
10. A classic early Dylan protest song, about a boxer who was killed in the ring.

The Elephant In the Room

A few years ago, an old friend related to me that parable of the "elephant in the room." My friend was talking about coping with an issue that he needed to deal with. The elephant in the room can be many things-- a relationship issue, a substance issue, many things. Every time the elephant moves, he knocks over furniture, breaks things, etc. You spend your whole life righting furniture, repairing things and generally cleaning up after the elephant, all the while not doing what's really needed-- getting the elephant out of the room. I've always liked that analogy, and have found it useful with a lot of situations. There's most definitely been an elephant in my room the last couple of months.

A few bloggers had noted a dearth of blog posts from me the last couple of months. There was a reason for this. I had taken a job at a restaurant in downtown Chicago, which at first turned out to be great. The money was great and I loved the people I worked with. Then things started getting difficult. They had a series of great reviews, which is good and bad in the restaurant business. Good in that it brings in new business. Bad in that it brings in waves and waves of new people. The restaurant struggled to keep up with it. I was being scheduled for two and three consecutive double shifts, as was a lot of the rest of the staff. I was working 50-60 hours a week, in addition to school. All the while, a very hostile management atmosphere was developing. I was exhausted all the time, frequently being scheduled for double shifts without a meal break. I'd get home from a 14 hour day and have dinner at 1:30 in the morning. And then get up at 7:30 to do it again. I was getting worried about making sure I kept up with school, and particularly spending time with Kim and the kids, which was not happening. And of course, I was too tired and uninspired too blog.

A couple of weekends ago, I ended up working a double on a Sunday, despite having requested that day off. I started early, so I didn't get to make my kids breakfast-- a tradition on the weekends. I was scheduled for a day shift and on call for the evening shift. The day shift was very busy, and of course I ended up having to work the night shift. Kim had to drive Adam to my ex's house, and I got zero time with him or my stepdaughter that day. The night shift was hellish-- the place filled up after the Bears game, and I was "in the weeds" as they say in the business, the whole night. And of course, I hadn't gotten a meal break in between shifts, so I was so hungry I was dizzy. I seriously thought about quitting that night.

Two days later, I had an incident with the General Manager that was truly the most bizarre moment of my life. Seriously. I mean, that includes run-ins with nuts and drunks on public transportion in Chicago. The restaurant and I came to an abrupt and unpleasant parting of ways. That's all I'll say about it.

The good: to be out of a job situation that was increasingly chaotic and stressful. The bad: to be looking for another waitering job at the second-to-worst time to be doing so. It's difficult because all of the restaurants are closing their patios with the end of the summer, and have sufficient, or even excess staff. The only worse time would be after Christmas, when business plummets for a couple of months.

Fortunately, I kept my part-time gig at Jury's. It's keeping my head above water. A lot of people have suggested more shifts there, but the problem is that it's a small mom and pop place where people never quit-- I worked there four years before I was finally not "the new guy." I've been picking up shifts here and there, but there's really no chance to go to full time there.

In the meantime, I've got a lot of lines in the water. I'm at a point that I may have to do something drastic, temporarily, like work at Whole Paycheck Foods. I've got kids to take care of.

So, after a couple of months of being too busy and beat to blog, I've been too worried and irritated to blog much, and didn't want to say anything about my situation. Enough of that. I'm spending time every day job-hunting. Sooner or later, I'll be working full time again (hopefully sooner). Aside from underemployment, things are good. I've got a lovely wife, whom I'm sitting with, watching Guys and Dolls with, something we'd long wanted to do. My kids are well. I'm enjoying school. Things will be okay. As my mother is fond of saying, "This too shall pass." We now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging.

All The Cool Kids Were Doing It...

Since Beckeye, Coaster Punchman and now Bubs have been waxing nostalgic about the 80's, I thought I'd get in on it.

The summer of 1983, I was having the time of my life. I'd finally changed my major to political science, taking two summer school classes-- "Eastern European Politics and Government" and "Political Parties," which was by taught by Joe Connelly, my advisor and a very memorable guy. I worked in the food service of a dorm, so I had money for the first time in my college career, and was developing the friendships that would turn out to be lifelong, including the one with my friend Mark, who died last year.

In 1983, MTV still actually played music videos. This was one of them: China, by New Orleans natives The Red Rockers.

Am I A Bad Person For Laughing At This Story?

I sure hope he didn't plan on ever cooking food again on his grill.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21088150/from/ET/

Just Wondering...

On Friday night, after the blogger extravaganza, I came home and Army of Darkness was on American Movie Classics. I watched the last half hour or so of it, despite the fact that it's on my Netflix queue.



A couple of thoughts. First, I liked it a lot better than the first movie, The Evil Dead (I haven't seen the second one), and look forward to seeing the whole movie. I thought Army of Darkness was pretty damned funny. The second thought was wondering what percentage of people who saw it got the joke about the magic words at the end-- "Klaatu barada nikto"-- that they were the words said to Gort the robot in The Day the Earth Stood Still.

Bloggers Are Introverts....Not!

A few days ago, Evil Genius passed the word that he would be in Chicago. After some back and forth about location, we decided on a restaurant near my home, Feed The Beast. This was good, because it meant that my son Adam, who turned out to be the night's chief photographer, was able to join us.



I had called in a reservation to get an outside table at Feed The Beast My son and I arrived at 7 PM, and we were joined about 15 minutes later by Evil Genius. He had, it turned out, ended up walking to the restaurant, unable to catch a cab. Fortunately his walk was through one of the nicest walking areas in Chicago.



Adam and I had a chance to get to know Evil Genius. Then we were joined by The Idea of Progress, who opened with the best line of the night. He was joining us after participating in a Critical Mass event. He rode up, took off his bike helmet, and as he locked up his bike asked "Are you guys a bunch of bloggers?"

"Why yes, in fact, we are."

He joined us, ordering the Macaroni and Cheese on my son's recommendation. The conversation and greetings continued, and we were soon joined by Bubs, who ordered the largest Guiness any of us had ever seen.

As we proceeded to converse and demolish the myth of bloggers as malcontent misanthropes, it occurred to us that Grant Miller had never arrived. We began to theorize that he was actually a myth, a created character-- we referred to him as Keyser Soze."

And then he had to ruin it all by showing up.






We had a marvelous time talking. And talking about other bloggers. If your ears were burning Friday night...

We determined that Dale is the apparent nexus of the blogosphere (and a really nice guy). We wished Lulu could have made it. We talked about connections various bloggers have-- that Lulu and Coaster Punchman are old friends; that Deadspot and I have been friends since college.

As we had libations and talked, we kept hearing cheers from Feed The Beast and from Gannon's, the bar across the street. The first round of cheers was because the Cubs were winning (and won) their game in Cincinnati. The second round of cheers was when the Milwaukee Brewers lost their game, meaning the Cubs won their division and were going to the playoffs. Even my son, the die-hard Cubs fan, is too jaded to get too excited about it; the Cubs have let him down one too many times. Still, we could hear the news helicopters that were hovering over Wrigley Field, about a mile and a half away. The assembled bloggers joked that these were the fabled government Black Helicopters spying on what was presumably a group of bloggers plotting to overthrow the world.

After the various bloggers bid adieu and went off into the night, Adam and I walked home and talked about what an interesting group this was. I don't know if you could come up with a more diverse group of people, yet they shared one thing-- they clearly all like other people. They're hardly the isolated angry people living in bathrobes that cetain pundits have described us as. Blogging is, for them, for us, a form of self-expression, and a way of finding other people who think a little out of the box like we do. Were it not for blogs, none of us would likely have ever met.

And that would have been a shame.