I'm still kind of stunned but I've been doing a lot of reflecting on what made me tick. I think I have some answers & I can see how I made some serious mistakes but I'm not sure I'm ready to write about it just yet. Honestly I don't think I'm ready to do anything, so I haven't been doing anything, aside from work.
The title is from a Willie Dixon tune that Clapton did a few years back.
"I'm so tired of moaning, trying to groan away my blues.
I'm so tired of moaning, trying to groan away my blues.
I keep weeping and crying every time I think of you."
I suppose that's me for a while - I can't really articulate all that's going on inside my head so I'm just gonna groan for a while.
Here's Clapton doing the tune.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Spooky Kinda Moondance
I can't recall how many times I've played those songs. I can recall that most of the times I've played them Halloween was approaching. There's just not that many decent Halloween tunes out there.
Spooky was first done by Classics IV in 1967. The version I recall most clearly is from the Atlanta Rhythm Section, which is comprised of some former members of Classics IV. But the Classics IV version is probably the most widely heard outside the South. Here's Classics IV doing it & here's ARS doing it live.
But how many tunes talk about proposing on Halloween? So it was almost destined to replace the few other tunes that had a Halloween connection. Think about it - would you rather hear Spooky or Monster Mash? Case rested.
Moondance is a Van Morrison number & consequently the name of one of his (in my humble opinion) best albums. And It Stoned Me, Into The Mystic, & Crazy Love would have made it a decent piece of vinyl (that's what those big CD's were made of back in the time before dirt) but adding Moondance really set it on the upper shelf. Here's a vid of the tune set to a neat slideshow.
Moondance is a jazzy little tune that can be swung or downplayed. You can take it too far in either direction but you almost have to try. At the heart of it is a really sweet little love song.
"Can I have just one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?"
Corny? Perhaps. But sweet. & most women will forgive corny if it's done in a sweet way (least I think so; if not that would explain all those failed relationships wouldn't it?)
A ton of jazz artists have covered Moondance. Too many to mention them all. But Paul Brown does a very tender, thoughtful version. A fellow name of Michael Buble does a more swinging version but his voice is smooth enough that it works well (plus the band doesn't over-swing it). Here's a vid of it set to a slideshow of Buble.
So if I had had an actual gig in October odds are I'd have done Spooky & Moondance. & honestly that'd have been alright as they're not bad tunes even if you don't care for Halloween. & I don't care for Halloween. Not that I hate it but it just never was a favorite holiday.
The neighborhood I grew up in was fairly rough. Not mid-60's Viet-Nam kinda rough but when I talked to an Army recruiter & he saw my zip code & found out I had never been shot he told me I could skip basic & jump right in as an E-6. On our property tax forms we did have a space for "ammo expenditures".
Back to the point - I grew up with my grandparents & they were getting on up there by the time I was a young teenager. When I was about 13 my grandfather called me into his room & told me to pick up his shotgun. He looked at me & said, "Boy, I'm getting too old & I don't see that good no more. Anyone tries to break in you gonna have to take care of 'em." So I was more or less in charge of security.
When I was 15 I had a gig on Halloween. Not a great gig - in fact that exposed me to the wonderful world of the music biz - we got ripped off. When I got back home my grandmother told me that someone had been beating on the door & threatened to break it down if they didn't give them money. They called the cops & set the hourglass to see how quick the response time was. It really was quicker to call Domino's & ask them to bring a .357 with them. But the miscreants left without doing much more than scaring a couple of old people. Well & really pissing me off. I have a soft spot for old folks & especially those old folks I'm typing about here.
So after that I spent most Halloweens as a teenager staying around the house & making sure no one tried anything unsavory. Luckily it was a fairly boring endeavor.
After my grandparents passed I did some partying on Halloween, but I was in college & we partied damn near every day anyway (least it seemed) so most were parties that just happened to occur on Halloween. We always wondered why everyone dressed funny on some days but didn't think too much of it.
So Halloween was never on my list of "great days of the year". But that doesn't mean I don't like the music. Well, except for Monster Mash.
Spooky was first done by Classics IV in 1967. The version I recall most clearly is from the Atlanta Rhythm Section, which is comprised of some former members of Classics IV. But the Classics IV version is probably the most widely heard outside the South. Here's Classics IV doing it & here's ARS doing it live.
But how many tunes talk about proposing on Halloween? So it was almost destined to replace the few other tunes that had a Halloween connection. Think about it - would you rather hear Spooky or Monster Mash? Case rested.
Moondance is a Van Morrison number & consequently the name of one of his (in my humble opinion) best albums. And It Stoned Me, Into The Mystic, & Crazy Love would have made it a decent piece of vinyl (that's what those big CD's were made of back in the time before dirt) but adding Moondance really set it on the upper shelf. Here's a vid of the tune set to a neat slideshow.
Moondance is a jazzy little tune that can be swung or downplayed. You can take it too far in either direction but you almost have to try. At the heart of it is a really sweet little love song.
"Can I have just one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?"
Corny? Perhaps. But sweet. & most women will forgive corny if it's done in a sweet way (least I think so; if not that would explain all those failed relationships wouldn't it?)
A ton of jazz artists have covered Moondance. Too many to mention them all. But Paul Brown does a very tender, thoughtful version. A fellow name of Michael Buble does a more swinging version but his voice is smooth enough that it works well (plus the band doesn't over-swing it). Here's a vid of it set to a slideshow of Buble.
So if I had had an actual gig in October odds are I'd have done Spooky & Moondance. & honestly that'd have been alright as they're not bad tunes even if you don't care for Halloween. & I don't care for Halloween. Not that I hate it but it just never was a favorite holiday.
The neighborhood I grew up in was fairly rough. Not mid-60's Viet-Nam kinda rough but when I talked to an Army recruiter & he saw my zip code & found out I had never been shot he told me I could skip basic & jump right in as an E-6. On our property tax forms we did have a space for "ammo expenditures".
Back to the point - I grew up with my grandparents & they were getting on up there by the time I was a young teenager. When I was about 13 my grandfather called me into his room & told me to pick up his shotgun. He looked at me & said, "Boy, I'm getting too old & I don't see that good no more. Anyone tries to break in you gonna have to take care of 'em." So I was more or less in charge of security.
When I was 15 I had a gig on Halloween. Not a great gig - in fact that exposed me to the wonderful world of the music biz - we got ripped off. When I got back home my grandmother told me that someone had been beating on the door & threatened to break it down if they didn't give them money. They called the cops & set the hourglass to see how quick the response time was. It really was quicker to call Domino's & ask them to bring a .357 with them. But the miscreants left without doing much more than scaring a couple of old people. Well & really pissing me off. I have a soft spot for old folks & especially those old folks I'm typing about here.
So after that I spent most Halloweens as a teenager staying around the house & making sure no one tried anything unsavory. Luckily it was a fairly boring endeavor.
After my grandparents passed I did some partying on Halloween, but I was in college & we partied damn near every day anyway (least it seemed) so most were parties that just happened to occur on Halloween. We always wondered why everyone dressed funny on some days but didn't think too much of it.
So Halloween was never on my list of "great days of the year". But that doesn't mean I don't like the music. Well, except for Monster Mash.
Monday, October 23, 2006
A Change Gonna Come
Sam Cooke. An appropriate title & an appropriate song for what I'm going to bitch about tonight. Here's the tune set to an appropriate slideshow.
Where I work there are four folks I don't care for. It's mutual. They'd vote me off the island in the first round & I'd let them. But one in particular is grating as hell. Because of him I thought seriously about getting fired tonight.
He's about 17 or 18. Good looking kid. Kinda scrawny. He's also borderline incompetent at his job, has no sense of personal responsibility & can generally be described as a punk. All that would be bearable except he's a bigot & misogynist.
Twice before he's uttered the "N" word quite loudly & conversationally. So twice before I've explained to him that it's not just an uncool thing for a punk-ass little white kid to be saying, but it could be perilous. A few others have had this chat with him as well.
A few weeks back he casually, in conversation called a young lady who works there a bitch. This particular young lady is one of the few people up there who actually works & I'm quite fond of her. So the boss stepped in front of me as I was heading towards him & the boss more or less cut me off.
Now let me preface this a bit. I'm not a very violent person. I do have a very bad & quick temper, but I've had the temper my whole life & I've worked very hard at controlling it. To tell ya the truth I'm kinda proud of how well I do control it. Most folks who piss me off usually don't realize it & I usually let a lot of things slide. Course being a smart ass takes up some of that slack but that's something else to talk about some other time.
So tonight I hear the little crusty minded punk drop the "N" bomb again. From across a very noisy room. First time I'd heard it from him in a month or more. Hell I thought our last chat about the matter had impressed upon him the importance of not being that disrespectful. But nope.
I actually stopped what I was doing for a moment before I spoke to him. I called his name out across the room & asked him what he said. He repeated the first part then said, "& that word that you don't like so I ain't gonna say it again".
What surprised me was I actually thought about it for a few seconds. Not his response but where to find another source of income. I thought this because it was entirely too tempting to grab his scrawny ass & give him a redneck -to-punk translation of "you done run off at the mouth too much".
I didn't. I restrained myself as I have done in the past But that I thought about it seriously for a second or two gave me pause.
I'm old. I'll be 35 in a few weeks. The kid is about half my age. He's probably got some speed & he's cocky enough that I don't think he's afraid of me. & I'm not a big macho "I'll kick everybody's ass while drinking a beer" type guy. I can count the number of fights I've gotten into on one hand & I generally don't like getting into them. But I can have a mean side & this punk wouldn't be any trouble at all. Worrying about my safety or the outcome of the confrontation didn't stop me.
Maybe it was the moral implication. In theory we're all supposed to be able to say whatever we wish without fear of torture so maybe I felt that it would just be wrong to physically correct the punk for being an idiot. Course back home when I was growing up a fight between two people over words was not uncommon. & it did have some societal value.
Whatever the reason though I doubt I'll lose control & take him to the woodshed. But damn if it ain't a tempting notion. & I don't like that it's a tempting notion.
Again I am not a bad ass of any type. Nor am I a bully (the punk is a few inches taller & probably within a few pounds of my weight). What I am is Southern. The neighborhood I grew up in was mostly black. Most of the bands I've been in I've been the only white guy. Hell some clubs I've played in I've been the only white guy in the room. I've been in places in my life where the bands would ask me to go in & tell them if it seemed safe for black folk. I've had run ins with klansmen & klansmen wannabes (more the latter than the former & nothing like the run ins that occurred in the 50's & 60's). I have one buddy who remembers me as the first (& as far as I know only) white guy he ever had over to his house for dinner (on the phone his wife called to him that "white Mike" was on the line).
I've also had some interesting moments with people who found out I was from the South & assumed I was a klansman. So maybe I'm just a bit culturally sensitive about things. But a punk who isn't even old enough to buy smokes that grew up in a middle class neighborhood in Colorado has no fucking business dropping the "N" word casually. Hell he's probably only seen images of black people.
I'll resolve this tomorrow though. I'm going to have a chat with the big boss & explain how proud I am of my restraint when the punk runs his mouth & how I'm not fond of being proud. I doubt it'll have any repercussions for me even though I know I'm going to phrase it roughly but there is a chance that I could get the axe over this (in a big company anything can happen no matter how nonsensical. Well especially if it's nonsensical.).
Still, this is the 21rst century. It still kind of bugs me that this kind of thing could happen. But then again it doesn't. Human nature hasn't really changed for a few thousand years & I doubt that streak will be broken in the next few hundred years.
But what will change is the punks vocabulary.
Where I work there are four folks I don't care for. It's mutual. They'd vote me off the island in the first round & I'd let them. But one in particular is grating as hell. Because of him I thought seriously about getting fired tonight.
He's about 17 or 18. Good looking kid. Kinda scrawny. He's also borderline incompetent at his job, has no sense of personal responsibility & can generally be described as a punk. All that would be bearable except he's a bigot & misogynist.
Twice before he's uttered the "N" word quite loudly & conversationally. So twice before I've explained to him that it's not just an uncool thing for a punk-ass little white kid to be saying, but it could be perilous. A few others have had this chat with him as well.
A few weeks back he casually, in conversation called a young lady who works there a bitch. This particular young lady is one of the few people up there who actually works & I'm quite fond of her. So the boss stepped in front of me as I was heading towards him & the boss more or less cut me off.
Now let me preface this a bit. I'm not a very violent person. I do have a very bad & quick temper, but I've had the temper my whole life & I've worked very hard at controlling it. To tell ya the truth I'm kinda proud of how well I do control it. Most folks who piss me off usually don't realize it & I usually let a lot of things slide. Course being a smart ass takes up some of that slack but that's something else to talk about some other time.
So tonight I hear the little crusty minded punk drop the "N" bomb again. From across a very noisy room. First time I'd heard it from him in a month or more. Hell I thought our last chat about the matter had impressed upon him the importance of not being that disrespectful. But nope.
I actually stopped what I was doing for a moment before I spoke to him. I called his name out across the room & asked him what he said. He repeated the first part then said, "& that word that you don't like so I ain't gonna say it again".
What surprised me was I actually thought about it for a few seconds. Not his response but where to find another source of income. I thought this because it was entirely too tempting to grab his scrawny ass & give him a redneck -to-punk translation of "you done run off at the mouth too much".
I didn't. I restrained myself as I have done in the past But that I thought about it seriously for a second or two gave me pause.
I'm old. I'll be 35 in a few weeks. The kid is about half my age. He's probably got some speed & he's cocky enough that I don't think he's afraid of me. & I'm not a big macho "I'll kick everybody's ass while drinking a beer" type guy. I can count the number of fights I've gotten into on one hand & I generally don't like getting into them. But I can have a mean side & this punk wouldn't be any trouble at all. Worrying about my safety or the outcome of the confrontation didn't stop me.
Maybe it was the moral implication. In theory we're all supposed to be able to say whatever we wish without fear of torture so maybe I felt that it would just be wrong to physically correct the punk for being an idiot. Course back home when I was growing up a fight between two people over words was not uncommon. & it did have some societal value.
Whatever the reason though I doubt I'll lose control & take him to the woodshed. But damn if it ain't a tempting notion. & I don't like that it's a tempting notion.
Again I am not a bad ass of any type. Nor am I a bully (the punk is a few inches taller & probably within a few pounds of my weight). What I am is Southern. The neighborhood I grew up in was mostly black. Most of the bands I've been in I've been the only white guy. Hell some clubs I've played in I've been the only white guy in the room. I've been in places in my life where the bands would ask me to go in & tell them if it seemed safe for black folk. I've had run ins with klansmen & klansmen wannabes (more the latter than the former & nothing like the run ins that occurred in the 50's & 60's). I have one buddy who remembers me as the first (& as far as I know only) white guy he ever had over to his house for dinner (on the phone his wife called to him that "white Mike" was on the line).
I've also had some interesting moments with people who found out I was from the South & assumed I was a klansman. So maybe I'm just a bit culturally sensitive about things. But a punk who isn't even old enough to buy smokes that grew up in a middle class neighborhood in Colorado has no fucking business dropping the "N" word casually. Hell he's probably only seen images of black people.
I'll resolve this tomorrow though. I'm going to have a chat with the big boss & explain how proud I am of my restraint when the punk runs his mouth & how I'm not fond of being proud. I doubt it'll have any repercussions for me even though I know I'm going to phrase it roughly but there is a chance that I could get the axe over this (in a big company anything can happen no matter how nonsensical. Well especially if it's nonsensical.).
Still, this is the 21rst century. It still kind of bugs me that this kind of thing could happen. But then again it doesn't. Human nature hasn't really changed for a few thousand years & I doubt that streak will be broken in the next few hundred years.
But what will change is the punks vocabulary.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Did I Shave My Legs For This?
Deana Carter. Cute song. Here's a vid of it. I won't be talking about it though. It just made for a convenient title.
Ever have a bad day? I mean everything went wrong that could go wrong that you didn't think would or could go wrong. Well welcome to my friggin' decade.
The main thing I wish to bitc, er I mean discuss is the alleged gig last night.
Benefits are always fucked up. The timing is never as planned & there are always problems. If it's for a good cause it's usually bearable & tonight is no exception. Hell, the guy has cancer. When I heard people ask how much time he has left the reply was simply "not much". So I'll put up with some hassle if it helps the guy out.
That does not mean I shan't bitch about it.
The band that fronted the thing was pretty decent. The drummer was a show off in a very entertaining way. At one point he left the kit & was playing tables, beer bottles, shot glasses, etc... all the way around the bar. The stage was crowded as hell though. The drum kit took up the front third of the stage. The guitar player had a Marshall half stack taking up most of the left third (that'd be stage left) & the bass & other guitar players & percussionist had to crowd into the right third.
They took a break & I went for a smoke. I told the guy who asked me to play that I'd be outside & to holler when they needed me. So I was sitting there smoking talking to some girl who just moved up from Texas when I heard the band crank up again. They obviously went ahead & used the other guitar player first. No biggie but I felt slightly slighted that they didn't let me know what was happening. Still, no biggie.
I had some friends come out (thanks y'all) & spent some time chatting with them. They're an older couple & the guy plays guitar. Real damn well I might add. I've seen his band play a few times & this was the first chance he had to return the favor. So I was touched that they made it out, especially since I met them through an ex-g/f.
So the band takes a break. I go up to see what's shaking. The main band is going to play a set by themselves. I'm feeling a little shaky about things but it's still cool. They play & when they take another break I set up my amp. The stage is so crowded I'm standing on the floor in front of the stage & one of the mains (that'd be main speakers). Again no biggie; good cause & all.
We do three tunes before we take another break. I can't even recall what the second & third songs were. The first was Old Time Rock'n'Roll. I remember it so well because A: I used to play in an oldies/50's/doo-wop band that opened the main show with that one & B: cause it was the only solo I got all set. & that was split with the other guitar player.
So we take a break & I'm feeling uneasy about the other guitar player. There's a certain etiquette involved in sharing a stage, especially with someone who plays your instrument. You do a little deferring to the other guy if it's your gig. When I had other guitar players sit in with my bands I always made sure they got to play. Not just hanging in the background trying to scrape out a rhythm from what I left over, but they got to play. But some musicians (especially guitar players) tend to hog all they can. Still it was for a good cause so I was trying to be cool about things.
We got back up & played a few more tunes. Again no solos. I was pretty much trying to find parts that the other guitar player wasn't playing as a rhythm & not soloing at all. Then they introduce me & the percussion player to the audience. Now keep in mind I'm having trouble hearing what tunes they're calling out cause the guitar player is doing the calling from the other side of the stage & ain't bothering to clue me in. No biggie as I catch on quick, but I must not have heard them say they were going the rest of it alone. The guitar player then finally decides to pay me some attention. He does so by saying quite loudly while looking directly at me "Don't accompany us. We know this one."
So I put down my guitar & went outside to have a smoke. It's bad manners where I come from to tear down your gear while the other guys are playing. So I chill. I make a mental note that though it won't likely come up in any meaningful way I'll never play with that bloated ass ham sandwich swiping crusty toed omnivorous bastard that's playing a six string cranked up way too loud for the room. But otherwise I chill.
I grab my gear when they're through playing then chat with my buddy & his wife for a few as they're leaving. He at least heard enough of my playing that he wants me to get together with him & show him some jazz stuff (he's a helluva blues player) which flattered me. I figured they couldn't have heard much of anything I was doing through the other person behind an instrument that vaguely resembled mine but apparently they did.
To be fair the guy was an alright guitar player. He was just ill mannered.
After my friends split I made it a point to shake everyone's hand in the band but his. I grabbed my gear & left.
That was pretty much it. Not the worst playing experience I've ever had; unfortunately I've run into some rude bastards on various stages. But it was an unaccustomed low point in my attempts at a career out here.
What makes it worse is that the guy who invited me out is looking to put together a band. I can't say I'm as thrilled at his proposal as I was before tonight. The company he keeps is going to make me question his manners. Don't get me wrong; as long as the cash is right I'll play. Course I know damn well the price I set to play with that guitar player from last night will be nigh on ridiculously high.
& that was the highlight of my day. It started off with a date that was going well for a while but unfortunately ended on a less than pleasant note coupled with another visit from the neighborhood crack ho' (to be fair I have no idea if she's a "ho" or not, but she does seem to be on the rock.). Babygirl wanted to use the phone & ended up hanging out for about 30 minutes (when I was trying to get ready & split for the gig) till her connecti, er friend came to pick her up. & no; I still didn't sleep with her. Actually I feel bad for her & I've kinda always been a soft touch for strays. So I let her use the phone & try to talk her into treating herself better. She claims she agrees with what I tell her but I know it's just bullshit to her. She won't change anytime soon & eventually I'll cut her off (there are pay phones within walking distance) but for now I feel sorry for the girl.
& the date - I can't really discuss it, even here & with anonymity for the other party because I realized afterwards that I have some problems that I have to deal with that have effected her so I have to chat with her about things before I feel cool disclosing anything else. Suffice it to say it wasn't anything horrific it just should have went cooler for both of us cause we're pretty good friends.
So that was my Friday night. It sucked, but at least it sucked for a good cause.
To those of you who didn't make it out I'm really kinda glad you didn't. I'm not mega-egotistical but I always felt that if you get disrespected it should be done in front of as few of your friends as possible.
& no I didn't shave my legs for that. I just wish I wouldn't have worn my good heels.
One last gripe. It was supposed to be a blues gig but they mainly did classic rock stuff. It was alright & all, but not as soothing. So I've got ye olde music engine cranked to my Blues playlist & I'm going just think about times when it felt better to feel bad.
Ever have a bad day? I mean everything went wrong that could go wrong that you didn't think would or could go wrong. Well welcome to my friggin' decade.
The main thing I wish to bitc, er I mean discuss is the alleged gig last night.
Benefits are always fucked up. The timing is never as planned & there are always problems. If it's for a good cause it's usually bearable & tonight is no exception. Hell, the guy has cancer. When I heard people ask how much time he has left the reply was simply "not much". So I'll put up with some hassle if it helps the guy out.
That does not mean I shan't bitch about it.
The band that fronted the thing was pretty decent. The drummer was a show off in a very entertaining way. At one point he left the kit & was playing tables, beer bottles, shot glasses, etc... all the way around the bar. The stage was crowded as hell though. The drum kit took up the front third of the stage. The guitar player had a Marshall half stack taking up most of the left third (that'd be stage left) & the bass & other guitar players & percussionist had to crowd into the right third.
They took a break & I went for a smoke. I told the guy who asked me to play that I'd be outside & to holler when they needed me. So I was sitting there smoking talking to some girl who just moved up from Texas when I heard the band crank up again. They obviously went ahead & used the other guitar player first. No biggie but I felt slightly slighted that they didn't let me know what was happening. Still, no biggie.
I had some friends come out (thanks y'all) & spent some time chatting with them. They're an older couple & the guy plays guitar. Real damn well I might add. I've seen his band play a few times & this was the first chance he had to return the favor. So I was touched that they made it out, especially since I met them through an ex-g/f.
So the band takes a break. I go up to see what's shaking. The main band is going to play a set by themselves. I'm feeling a little shaky about things but it's still cool. They play & when they take another break I set up my amp. The stage is so crowded I'm standing on the floor in front of the stage & one of the mains (that'd be main speakers). Again no biggie; good cause & all.
We do three tunes before we take another break. I can't even recall what the second & third songs were. The first was Old Time Rock'n'Roll. I remember it so well because A: I used to play in an oldies/50's/doo-wop band that opened the main show with that one & B: cause it was the only solo I got all set. & that was split with the other guitar player.
So we take a break & I'm feeling uneasy about the other guitar player. There's a certain etiquette involved in sharing a stage, especially with someone who plays your instrument. You do a little deferring to the other guy if it's your gig. When I had other guitar players sit in with my bands I always made sure they got to play. Not just hanging in the background trying to scrape out a rhythm from what I left over, but they got to play. But some musicians (especially guitar players) tend to hog all they can. Still it was for a good cause so I was trying to be cool about things.
We got back up & played a few more tunes. Again no solos. I was pretty much trying to find parts that the other guitar player wasn't playing as a rhythm & not soloing at all. Then they introduce me & the percussion player to the audience. Now keep in mind I'm having trouble hearing what tunes they're calling out cause the guitar player is doing the calling from the other side of the stage & ain't bothering to clue me in. No biggie as I catch on quick, but I must not have heard them say they were going the rest of it alone. The guitar player then finally decides to pay me some attention. He does so by saying quite loudly while looking directly at me "Don't accompany us. We know this one."
So I put down my guitar & went outside to have a smoke. It's bad manners where I come from to tear down your gear while the other guys are playing. So I chill. I make a mental note that though it won't likely come up in any meaningful way I'll never play with that bloated ass ham sandwich swiping crusty toed omnivorous bastard that's playing a six string cranked up way too loud for the room. But otherwise I chill.
I grab my gear when they're through playing then chat with my buddy & his wife for a few as they're leaving. He at least heard enough of my playing that he wants me to get together with him & show him some jazz stuff (he's a helluva blues player) which flattered me. I figured they couldn't have heard much of anything I was doing through the other person behind an instrument that vaguely resembled mine but apparently they did.
To be fair the guy was an alright guitar player. He was just ill mannered.
After my friends split I made it a point to shake everyone's hand in the band but his. I grabbed my gear & left.
That was pretty much it. Not the worst playing experience I've ever had; unfortunately I've run into some rude bastards on various stages. But it was an unaccustomed low point in my attempts at a career out here.
What makes it worse is that the guy who invited me out is looking to put together a band. I can't say I'm as thrilled at his proposal as I was before tonight. The company he keeps is going to make me question his manners. Don't get me wrong; as long as the cash is right I'll play. Course I know damn well the price I set to play with that guitar player from last night will be nigh on ridiculously high.
& that was the highlight of my day. It started off with a date that was going well for a while but unfortunately ended on a less than pleasant note coupled with another visit from the neighborhood crack ho' (to be fair I have no idea if she's a "ho" or not, but she does seem to be on the rock.). Babygirl wanted to use the phone & ended up hanging out for about 30 minutes (when I was trying to get ready & split for the gig) till her connecti, er friend came to pick her up. & no; I still didn't sleep with her. Actually I feel bad for her & I've kinda always been a soft touch for strays. So I let her use the phone & try to talk her into treating herself better. She claims she agrees with what I tell her but I know it's just bullshit to her. She won't change anytime soon & eventually I'll cut her off (there are pay phones within walking distance) but for now I feel sorry for the girl.
& the date - I can't really discuss it, even here & with anonymity for the other party because I realized afterwards that I have some problems that I have to deal with that have effected her so I have to chat with her about things before I feel cool disclosing anything else. Suffice it to say it wasn't anything horrific it just should have went cooler for both of us cause we're pretty good friends.
So that was my Friday night. It sucked, but at least it sucked for a good cause.
To those of you who didn't make it out I'm really kinda glad you didn't. I'm not mega-egotistical but I always felt that if you get disrespected it should be done in front of as few of your friends as possible.
& no I didn't shave my legs for that. I just wish I wouldn't have worn my good heels.
One last gripe. It was supposed to be a blues gig but they mainly did classic rock stuff. It was alright & all, but not as soothing. So I've got ye olde music engine cranked to my Blues playlist & I'm going just think about times when it felt better to feel bad.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Bed Of Roses
Jon Bon Jovi always aggravated me. Not sure why but for the longest time he just plain out got on my nerves. I think it was partly cause he wrote so damn well. Cheesy yes, but for the genre he wrote in his style was damn near perfect. Having a potential g/f who asked me if I'd cut my hair like his once didn't help though. Needless to say it didn't work out. Well for me at least. Jovi seems to have done alright.
The tune in question is one of his sappier ballads. But no one is better at writing sappy hard rock/glam rock/pop rock ballads. Here's the vid.
"Sitting here wasted & wounded at this old piano
trying hard to capture the moment - this morning I don't know
Cause a bottle of vodka is still lodged in my head
& some blonde gave me nightmares - I think that she's still in my bed
As I dream about movies they won't make of me when I'm dead"
The song is about a guy in a band on the road who despite having female company misses someone very badly. It's not as uncommon as you think. Or as common as you think.
When I was on the road I knew a lot of musicians who really cared for their mates but would sleep around. Sometimes the women at home knew what was going on, sometimes they didn't. Personally I never played around while I was obligated but I damn well understood the temptations. (Temptations sing - oh, sorry - Rick James flashback). I also knew quite a few who didn't sleep around. Those were the ones I trusted with bail money. Not that I ever needed it (except that once but I promise I never saw that Llama before in my life) but ya never know.
But all musicians, even humble modest ones such as myself, have dreams of fame. The line about dreaming of movies they won't make of him when he's dead - that resonates with most of us whether we admit it or not. His acceptance that it's not going to happen hits us too cause eventually we realize that there won't be a movie about us when we die. Besides, movies about most musicians would be lucky to get an "XXX" rating. Still, we dream.
The second verse contains one of my most favorite cheesy ass lines that I've ever heard sung out loud - including all the country I've listened to.
"with an iron clad fist I wake up & French kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head while we're talking
about all of the things I long to believe about love, the truth, what you mean to me
& the truth is baby - you're all that I need"
You don't know how many times I've been hung over, put on a metallic glove & tried to french kiss the morning. I've found that the morning much prefers a simple peck on the cheek & perhaps a light hug.
But again I can relate - at least partially. There are a lot of things I wanted desperately to believe when I was younger & in some cases would still like to believe. & some of those things concern love & the truth. But the world is a very cold place that makes belief in some notions more difficult than it should be. Still musicians being the emotional lot we are tend to cling to those beliefs despite great obstacles, like reality. Hence the hangovers.
The chorus:
"I want to lay you down on a bed of roses
for tonight I sleep on a bed of nails
I want to be just as close as the Holy ghost is
and lay you down on a bed of roses"
Yes; it's cheesy as hell. But emotions are cheesy things in general. Deep ones especially so. It's really hard to be cool when you're being honest about how you feel if you feel deeply about someone. Try it & if I'm wrong give me pointers.
He's saying in a poetic fashion that even though he's "gettin' some" it’s torture for him because he'd much rather be with someone else. He just wants to be as close to her as possible physically & spiritually. It's the separation that causes his pain despite trying to distract himself with nightmare causing blondes (which are generally fun at parties & sometimes after parties as well). Call him a dog if you will & you're probably right, but dogs have feelings too ya know. (bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay - sorry - P-funk flashback)
To the bridge:
"Well there's hotel bars, hangover, whiskey's gone dry
The barkeeper's wig's crooked & she's giving me the eye
I might have said yeah but I laughed so hard I think I died"
It happens. The bartender looks cute but then her wig slips a bit...
It's the repetition of the life that I think he's talking - er, singing about. After the first year or so it becomes much less exciting & you find yourself going through the motions. When you recognize something as typical it usually gives you pause. I know I've damn well laughed at myself at certain times, or laughed at certain re-occurring situations despite their obvious lack of humor. & if you've ever heard one of my jokes you understand what lack of humor is about.
"now as you close your eyes know I'll be thinking about you
while my mistress calls me to stand in her spotlight again
tonight I won't be alone but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove for it's you that I'd die to defend"
Course the obvious question is if he's got nothing to prove & he'd died to defend his lady then why is he fucking around? But musicians aren't always hip to that whole "logic" thing. Besides it's very possible it's not a committed relationship he's in for whatever reason.
Truthfully though I've been there. I've never cheated on anyone but there have been some situations where I cared for someone but was with someone else. So I can understand the need for having someone right here even though I wished like hell it was someone else with me. A particular someone else that is.
Musically Jovi does his usual job with this type of song - catchy little motifs running throughout a nice chord progression mingled with a catchy melody & thoughtful delivery of all the above. Cheesy as hell? Yes. But well crafted. (Get it? cheesy - crafted? Kraft-ed? I know. I don't have issues; I have subscriptions).
& why the hell am I writing about a cheesy ass Bon Jovi tune in the first friggin' place? Cause it popped up on my player when I felt like writing something. Or maybe I just miss being on the road. Or writing cheesy ass songs thinking that it'd be played during the opening credits of a movie about me. I write, you decide. Or is that deride?
The tune in question is one of his sappier ballads. But no one is better at writing sappy hard rock/glam rock/pop rock ballads. Here's the vid.
"Sitting here wasted & wounded at this old piano
trying hard to capture the moment - this morning I don't know
Cause a bottle of vodka is still lodged in my head
& some blonde gave me nightmares - I think that she's still in my bed
As I dream about movies they won't make of me when I'm dead"
The song is about a guy in a band on the road who despite having female company misses someone very badly. It's not as uncommon as you think. Or as common as you think.
When I was on the road I knew a lot of musicians who really cared for their mates but would sleep around. Sometimes the women at home knew what was going on, sometimes they didn't. Personally I never played around while I was obligated but I damn well understood the temptations. (Temptations sing - oh, sorry - Rick James flashback). I also knew quite a few who didn't sleep around. Those were the ones I trusted with bail money. Not that I ever needed it (except that once but I promise I never saw that Llama before in my life) but ya never know.
But all musicians, even humble modest ones such as myself, have dreams of fame. The line about dreaming of movies they won't make of him when he's dead - that resonates with most of us whether we admit it or not. His acceptance that it's not going to happen hits us too cause eventually we realize that there won't be a movie about us when we die. Besides, movies about most musicians would be lucky to get an "XXX" rating. Still, we dream.
The second verse contains one of my most favorite cheesy ass lines that I've ever heard sung out loud - including all the country I've listened to.
"with an iron clad fist I wake up & French kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head while we're talking
about all of the things I long to believe about love, the truth, what you mean to me
& the truth is baby - you're all that I need"
You don't know how many times I've been hung over, put on a metallic glove & tried to french kiss the morning. I've found that the morning much prefers a simple peck on the cheek & perhaps a light hug.
But again I can relate - at least partially. There are a lot of things I wanted desperately to believe when I was younger & in some cases would still like to believe. & some of those things concern love & the truth. But the world is a very cold place that makes belief in some notions more difficult than it should be. Still musicians being the emotional lot we are tend to cling to those beliefs despite great obstacles, like reality. Hence the hangovers.
The chorus:
"I want to lay you down on a bed of roses
for tonight I sleep on a bed of nails
I want to be just as close as the Holy ghost is
and lay you down on a bed of roses"
Yes; it's cheesy as hell. But emotions are cheesy things in general. Deep ones especially so. It's really hard to be cool when you're being honest about how you feel if you feel deeply about someone. Try it & if I'm wrong give me pointers.
He's saying in a poetic fashion that even though he's "gettin' some" it’s torture for him because he'd much rather be with someone else. He just wants to be as close to her as possible physically & spiritually. It's the separation that causes his pain despite trying to distract himself with nightmare causing blondes (which are generally fun at parties & sometimes after parties as well). Call him a dog if you will & you're probably right, but dogs have feelings too ya know. (bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay - sorry - P-funk flashback)
To the bridge:
"Well there's hotel bars, hangover, whiskey's gone dry
The barkeeper's wig's crooked & she's giving me the eye
I might have said yeah but I laughed so hard I think I died"
It happens. The bartender looks cute but then her wig slips a bit...
It's the repetition of the life that I think he's talking - er, singing about. After the first year or so it becomes much less exciting & you find yourself going through the motions. When you recognize something as typical it usually gives you pause. I know I've damn well laughed at myself at certain times, or laughed at certain re-occurring situations despite their obvious lack of humor. & if you've ever heard one of my jokes you understand what lack of humor is about.
"now as you close your eyes know I'll be thinking about you
while my mistress calls me to stand in her spotlight again
tonight I won't be alone but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove for it's you that I'd die to defend"
Course the obvious question is if he's got nothing to prove & he'd died to defend his lady then why is he fucking around? But musicians aren't always hip to that whole "logic" thing. Besides it's very possible it's not a committed relationship he's in for whatever reason.
Truthfully though I've been there. I've never cheated on anyone but there have been some situations where I cared for someone but was with someone else. So I can understand the need for having someone right here even though I wished like hell it was someone else with me. A particular someone else that is.
Musically Jovi does his usual job with this type of song - catchy little motifs running throughout a nice chord progression mingled with a catchy melody & thoughtful delivery of all the above. Cheesy as hell? Yes. But well crafted. (Get it? cheesy - crafted? Kraft-ed? I know. I don't have issues; I have subscriptions).
& why the hell am I writing about a cheesy ass Bon Jovi tune in the first friggin' place? Cause it popped up on my player when I felt like writing something. Or maybe I just miss being on the road. Or writing cheesy ass songs thinking that it'd be played during the opening credits of a movie about me. I write, you decide. Or is that deride?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
The song was written in 1963 by Eddie Pola & George Wyle. Andy Summers recorded it first but it's been done by a host of folks. It's definitely not my favorite x-mas tune but it makes such a damn nice title...
Fall, specifically late fall is the time of year I like best. I suppose it comes from growing up in North Carolina. This time of year meant an end to the heat & I never was a fan of the heat.
I like cold weather. I like snow. I like a lot of the things associated with fall & winter. But an odd one (perhaps) is that this time of year I usually start brushing up on my x-mas tunes.
From early January till mid-November there's really no reason to have x-mas tunes down cold. I've never played "Jingle Bells" in July for some reason. But ages ago I had an early December gig where they asked us to play some x-mas tunes. It was a private party & we were there doing R&B & reggae. I ended up being the only instrument accompanying the rest of the band (they could all sing their asses off) & it was all going great till we hit the bridge of "The Christmas Song" (i.e. "...chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."). For some reason the bridge slipped my mind. Train wrecked all to hell. The lead singer calmly reached back & slapped his hand on the neck of my guitar to stop me from trying to find the damn bridge. Not one of my prouder moments in music but one of my funniest.
So since then around this time of year I start brushing up on my x-mas tunes.
Another odd thing about that is I'm not a Christian. I grew up as one but even then I didn't celebrate x-mas. Still I always dug the music. & since x-mas parties usually pay more than most bar gigs my fondness for the genre didn't diminish over the years.
But another aspect of the fall I dig is the excuse it gives for a few of my favorite things (yes; that was a very bad x-mas tune pun tyvm). The cold & often inclimate weather is a very good excuse for staying in & curling up with someone you care about. But since that's not working out for me at the moment there's another justification - reading.
Last weekend I had an ass-load of stuff to do. & no I've never been able to quantify exactly how much is in an "ass-load". It just means a lot, k? So Friday I bust my ass to knock out most of the things on my agenda. I did that so I could spend all of Saturday doing nothing but reading. I hit Barnes & Noble (a vile, evil place to be avoided at all costs) & - well I was only gonna grab one or two books I really needed. Luckily it's my blog so I don't have to tell you how weak I actually was but let's just say I underestimated my need. In any case I read. All day. All night. First time I'd done that in ages. & it was nice.
Course the neighborhood crack ho' knocking on my door at 3 a.m. needing a ride kinda disturbed the mood but I felt so good about things I gave her a damn ride. That'd be in a car. Um while fully clothed. Actually she's a nice person & I'm not positive she's on the rock, but most of the evidence points that way & yes; she's a cute crack ho' but no - I haven't slept with her. Or had sex with her. (It's sometimes difficult writing for an audience that knows me - I really am very selective about who I sleep with. Damn it.)
Still one of my favorite uses for fall is to spend all day lounging around reading. Doesn’t matter what so long as it has my interest for the moment. The only way to improve on that is to have a lady I care for lounging around reading with me. Not only is it kinda romantic in a "you're too bookish" kinda way but sometimes I do need help with the big words. I am from North Carolina after all. When someone asks if I'm really literate I usually reflexive tell them that yes; my parents were married. By the time of my birth at least.
So from now till the tugging of spring negates the excuse I'll look for days when I can open my windows, shake my head, shiver just slightly & stay the hell in with a good book or at least three decent ones.
In the interest of full disclosure I am re-reading The Master & Margerita by Bulgakov, Starship Troopers by Heinlein & am a third of the way through Time Enough For Love by Heinlein. But the two I'm working on most are We Were Soldiers Once, And Young by Moore & Galloway (A third through so far) & Band of Brothers by Ambrose (I haven't started it yet - but soon my precious. soon.).
So just out of curiosity even if you think I know what you like to read leave me a comment or send me a message (I can dig the anonynimity thing) & tell me what book(s) you'd like to spend the whole day reading when the weather gets a little cooler & you can manage the time.
Fall, specifically late fall is the time of year I like best. I suppose it comes from growing up in North Carolina. This time of year meant an end to the heat & I never was a fan of the heat.
I like cold weather. I like snow. I like a lot of the things associated with fall & winter. But an odd one (perhaps) is that this time of year I usually start brushing up on my x-mas tunes.
From early January till mid-November there's really no reason to have x-mas tunes down cold. I've never played "Jingle Bells" in July for some reason. But ages ago I had an early December gig where they asked us to play some x-mas tunes. It was a private party & we were there doing R&B & reggae. I ended up being the only instrument accompanying the rest of the band (they could all sing their asses off) & it was all going great till we hit the bridge of "The Christmas Song" (i.e. "...chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."). For some reason the bridge slipped my mind. Train wrecked all to hell. The lead singer calmly reached back & slapped his hand on the neck of my guitar to stop me from trying to find the damn bridge. Not one of my prouder moments in music but one of my funniest.
So since then around this time of year I start brushing up on my x-mas tunes.
Another odd thing about that is I'm not a Christian. I grew up as one but even then I didn't celebrate x-mas. Still I always dug the music. & since x-mas parties usually pay more than most bar gigs my fondness for the genre didn't diminish over the years.
But another aspect of the fall I dig is the excuse it gives for a few of my favorite things (yes; that was a very bad x-mas tune pun tyvm). The cold & often inclimate weather is a very good excuse for staying in & curling up with someone you care about. But since that's not working out for me at the moment there's another justification - reading.
Last weekend I had an ass-load of stuff to do. & no I've never been able to quantify exactly how much is in an "ass-load". It just means a lot, k? So Friday I bust my ass to knock out most of the things on my agenda. I did that so I could spend all of Saturday doing nothing but reading. I hit Barnes & Noble (a vile, evil place to be avoided at all costs) & - well I was only gonna grab one or two books I really needed. Luckily it's my blog so I don't have to tell you how weak I actually was but let's just say I underestimated my need. In any case I read. All day. All night. First time I'd done that in ages. & it was nice.
Course the neighborhood crack ho' knocking on my door at 3 a.m. needing a ride kinda disturbed the mood but I felt so good about things I gave her a damn ride. That'd be in a car. Um while fully clothed. Actually she's a nice person & I'm not positive she's on the rock, but most of the evidence points that way & yes; she's a cute crack ho' but no - I haven't slept with her. Or had sex with her. (It's sometimes difficult writing for an audience that knows me - I really am very selective about who I sleep with. Damn it.)
Still one of my favorite uses for fall is to spend all day lounging around reading. Doesn’t matter what so long as it has my interest for the moment. The only way to improve on that is to have a lady I care for lounging around reading with me. Not only is it kinda romantic in a "you're too bookish" kinda way but sometimes I do need help with the big words. I am from North Carolina after all. When someone asks if I'm really literate I usually reflexive tell them that yes; my parents were married. By the time of my birth at least.
So from now till the tugging of spring negates the excuse I'll look for days when I can open my windows, shake my head, shiver just slightly & stay the hell in with a good book or at least three decent ones.
In the interest of full disclosure I am re-reading The Master & Margerita by Bulgakov, Starship Troopers by Heinlein & am a third of the way through Time Enough For Love by Heinlein. But the two I'm working on most are We Were Soldiers Once, And Young by Moore & Galloway (A third through so far) & Band of Brothers by Ambrose (I haven't started it yet - but soon my precious. soon.).
So just out of curiosity even if you think I know what you like to read leave me a comment or send me a message (I can dig the anonynimity thing) & tell me what book(s) you'd like to spend the whole day reading when the weather gets a little cooler & you can manage the time.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Who Wants To Live Forever?
A Queen tune off the soundtrack for the movie Highlander (& the Queen album Some Kind Of Magic). Here's the vid.
It's one of the most beautiful, sad & poignant pieces of music in film that I've ever heard. It plays during the scene in the movie where the Highlander is watching his wife grow old & die. the Highlander, being an immortal is kinda messed up by this turn of events & the music playing in the background adds to the emotions conveyed in the scene.
There are a few tunes I can think of that are sadder, but not many.
"There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?"
The orchestration is very simple. Almost but not quite understated. An organ with scattering of faintly heard strings through the verse. Then the chorus ("who wants to live forever?") is damn near exquisitely done. A simple ascending melody divided by syllables of the lyrics (a 3 note rise in other words - "who wants" on C then up a step to D for "to live" then up a step to E for "forever") with the strings just a bit louder touching on a descending harmony then providing a consequent motif as the vocals fade just a bit. Then the words repeat but the melody picks up where it left off instead of repeating. In other words the melody is a third higher on the reprise. The strings repeat their descending accompaniment but additional vocals provide texture to the melody as it starts on E then rises another step to F.. then another half step to G.
"There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?"
The strings come in a bit more on the second verse, giving a nice flavor to the melody without detracting from it too much. They do a very nice job of emoting the anxiety & tension consistent with the text then resolving it prior to the second chorus.
But the second chorus; the strings come in a more noticeable role giving a harmony as well as the counterpoint from the first chorus. The second half of the chorus has them coming up to a nice crescendo (along with the vocal harmonies - Mercury was always too damn good at that) that leads to the strings taking the melody over for the first half of what would be the next repeat of the chorus. The second half has a build up that's a continuation of what the strings did just prior but with Mercury adding a new line of text:
"Who dares to love forever?"
Which climaxes in a suspended chord as he moans & the guitar comes in to heighten the tension. Then it resolves to the minor root of the song as Mercury adds:
"When love must die"
But that's not enough. An instrumental section with May picking out a simple & tasteful melody leads to a heavier more anxious part:
"But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips"
The strings are providing an almost staccato rhythm as the drums come in playing half time behind the lyrics.
Then they kick it in. The drums come in full & the strings are supplemented by very heavy chords from the guitar. It's the same chord progression & melody as the chorus just heightened in flavor & intensity. The lyrics are:
"And we can have forever
And we can love forever
Forever is our today"
But that's not enough either. Mercury decides to show off. There are few better at stacking harmonies than the late Freddie Mercury & the next chorus is a perfect example of this. I'm counting 4 part harmonies not including octaves covered by at least 6 voices & I know I'm not counting it all.
"Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today"
Then it calms down a bit. The high-hat keeps an 8th note count while the strings fade & Mercury asks
"Who waits forever anyway?"
Strings take us out with a momentary build up that leads you to believe it's going to go on for a bit. Horns come in here & there & there's some nice minimalist guitar work. Then the organ suspends a chord & the strings resolve it, fading out on tonic chord. 9e-minor in this case).
But it's dry as hell to describe a song. Kinda like telling someone who's never had it how fried black sea bass tastes.
The feeling though - every song either inspires us to feel or think something or it doesn't. & what that feeling or thought is will vary with each person. There's no way to predict it (though usually you can have a general idea of the direction it may take in someone else) but it's hard to fathom that a song that causes strong feelings or thoughts in you wouldn't have the same effect on someone else. Still I'm left with talking about my impression. Your mileage may vary.
Again the first time I heard the song was in that scene from Highlander & it was damn near poetic in context. Still the song by itself is not to be discounted.
The saddest songs I know of aren't totally pessimistic. There's a good deal of pessimism involved but that'd just make them depressing momentarily & you'd soon just get on with things.
What makes a really great sad song is having a glimmer of hope - just a glimmer. Unrequited love is sad, but not as sad as when someone thinks there's still some sort of chance.
In real life we usually take unhappy endings as they come & when they're finally we move on. Not that it's easy or quick but most of us know the process & muddle through somehow. When a loved one dies it sucks but there's nothing to be done or hoped for in this world so you deal with it. But when there's a glimmer of hope - just the tiniest sliver of a chance that things may turn out happy that can mess you up worse than anything.
So it is in art & music. The tone of the song is mostly despondent. Mercury is talking himself into giving up hope cause he sees none - but he doesn't convince himself of that completely. He's preparing himself for a heartbreaking event that he desperately hopes (or wants to hope) will not happen.
The first part of the song he's convincing himself to just accept the inevitable, then the second half he's trying to talk himself (& presumably his lover) into the idea that maybe they can "have forever" even though it seems impossible. Or perhaps he's accepting that the inevitable will come but wishes to try to savor every moment until then? Either way what makes the tune so sad in content is the slight hope that is projected by the second half of the song. What makes the song great in general is the craftsmanship with which it was put together.
So listen to it sometime. Or better yet watch Highlander. Just don't think it'll leave you feeling ire. It's sad as hell (to me at least) but some of the greatest pieces of music in this world are, as some of the most memorable moments in our lives are regrettably sad ones.
It's one of the most beautiful, sad & poignant pieces of music in film that I've ever heard. It plays during the scene in the movie where the Highlander is watching his wife grow old & die. the Highlander, being an immortal is kinda messed up by this turn of events & the music playing in the background adds to the emotions conveyed in the scene.
There are a few tunes I can think of that are sadder, but not many.
"There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?"
The orchestration is very simple. Almost but not quite understated. An organ with scattering of faintly heard strings through the verse. Then the chorus ("who wants to live forever?") is damn near exquisitely done. A simple ascending melody divided by syllables of the lyrics (a 3 note rise in other words - "who wants" on C then up a step to D for "to live" then up a step to E for "forever") with the strings just a bit louder touching on a descending harmony then providing a consequent motif as the vocals fade just a bit. Then the words repeat but the melody picks up where it left off instead of repeating. In other words the melody is a third higher on the reprise. The strings repeat their descending accompaniment but additional vocals provide texture to the melody as it starts on E then rises another step to F.. then another half step to G.
"There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?"
The strings come in a bit more on the second verse, giving a nice flavor to the melody without detracting from it too much. They do a very nice job of emoting the anxiety & tension consistent with the text then resolving it prior to the second chorus.
But the second chorus; the strings come in a more noticeable role giving a harmony as well as the counterpoint from the first chorus. The second half of the chorus has them coming up to a nice crescendo (along with the vocal harmonies - Mercury was always too damn good at that) that leads to the strings taking the melody over for the first half of what would be the next repeat of the chorus. The second half has a build up that's a continuation of what the strings did just prior but with Mercury adding a new line of text:
"Who dares to love forever?"
Which climaxes in a suspended chord as he moans & the guitar comes in to heighten the tension. Then it resolves to the minor root of the song as Mercury adds:
"When love must die"
But that's not enough. An instrumental section with May picking out a simple & tasteful melody leads to a heavier more anxious part:
"But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips"
The strings are providing an almost staccato rhythm as the drums come in playing half time behind the lyrics.
Then they kick it in. The drums come in full & the strings are supplemented by very heavy chords from the guitar. It's the same chord progression & melody as the chorus just heightened in flavor & intensity. The lyrics are:
"And we can have forever
And we can love forever
Forever is our today"
But that's not enough either. Mercury decides to show off. There are few better at stacking harmonies than the late Freddie Mercury & the next chorus is a perfect example of this. I'm counting 4 part harmonies not including octaves covered by at least 6 voices & I know I'm not counting it all.
"Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today"
Then it calms down a bit. The high-hat keeps an 8th note count while the strings fade & Mercury asks
"Who waits forever anyway?"
Strings take us out with a momentary build up that leads you to believe it's going to go on for a bit. Horns come in here & there & there's some nice minimalist guitar work. Then the organ suspends a chord & the strings resolve it, fading out on tonic chord. 9e-minor in this case).
But it's dry as hell to describe a song. Kinda like telling someone who's never had it how fried black sea bass tastes.
The feeling though - every song either inspires us to feel or think something or it doesn't. & what that feeling or thought is will vary with each person. There's no way to predict it (though usually you can have a general idea of the direction it may take in someone else) but it's hard to fathom that a song that causes strong feelings or thoughts in you wouldn't have the same effect on someone else. Still I'm left with talking about my impression. Your mileage may vary.
Again the first time I heard the song was in that scene from Highlander & it was damn near poetic in context. Still the song by itself is not to be discounted.
The saddest songs I know of aren't totally pessimistic. There's a good deal of pessimism involved but that'd just make them depressing momentarily & you'd soon just get on with things.
What makes a really great sad song is having a glimmer of hope - just a glimmer. Unrequited love is sad, but not as sad as when someone thinks there's still some sort of chance.
In real life we usually take unhappy endings as they come & when they're finally we move on. Not that it's easy or quick but most of us know the process & muddle through somehow. When a loved one dies it sucks but there's nothing to be done or hoped for in this world so you deal with it. But when there's a glimmer of hope - just the tiniest sliver of a chance that things may turn out happy that can mess you up worse than anything.
So it is in art & music. The tone of the song is mostly despondent. Mercury is talking himself into giving up hope cause he sees none - but he doesn't convince himself of that completely. He's preparing himself for a heartbreaking event that he desperately hopes (or wants to hope) will not happen.
The first part of the song he's convincing himself to just accept the inevitable, then the second half he's trying to talk himself (& presumably his lover) into the idea that maybe they can "have forever" even though it seems impossible. Or perhaps he's accepting that the inevitable will come but wishes to try to savor every moment until then? Either way what makes the tune so sad in content is the slight hope that is projected by the second half of the song. What makes the song great in general is the craftsmanship with which it was put together.
So listen to it sometime. Or better yet watch Highlander. Just don't think it'll leave you feeling ire. It's sad as hell (to me at least) but some of the greatest pieces of music in this world are, as some of the most memorable moments in our lives are regrettably sad ones.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Black Cat Bone
An old blues tune. Johnny Winter did the version I'm familiar with but it dates as far back as the late 1920's from what I can tell. Here's Yvan "Harper" Aucouturier & The Texas Sluts doing their rendition of the tune. The "black cat bone" was a hoodoo charm made popular in the 20's & 30's by blues players. Depending on how it was prepared it could either make you invisible or bring back a lost lover.
"I believe my old lady she done found my black cat bone
I believe my old lady she done found my black cat bone
I got a funny feeling that uh something's going on wrong"
Contrast that with this Albert Collins & Robert Cray version
"I believe my baby got a black cat bone
I believe my baby got a black cat bone
seems like everything I do I do it wrong"
That's the nature of blues. The songs change from artist to artist & sometimes from gig to gig with the same artist.
But I'm going to write about a different kind of black cat, though the blues is an appropriate format to discuss things. (& with my luck in love I can't say the lyrics aren't generally appropriate but that's another tale).
Bug. I met her in 2002. I believe the month was May. At the time I was dating a girl who was moving here from Italy. She'd moved over there a few years before & was moving back. We ended up moving in together along with Bug & Chip. Bug & Chip were Felis Silvestris Catus. Cats in other words. Not particularly special cats as far as cats go (though Bug always seemed quite photogenic & Chip "talked" quite a bit) but we became friends. The lady in question was quite busy with school & traveled a bit while we were together so it's not an exaggaration to say I spent more time with the cats than I did with her.
By 2004 the relationship was quite rocky. Well, over more or less to be honest about it. We broke up in August & by September I had moved out. The lady & I had been good friends but it seemed like we wouldn't be talking much. Not a particularly nasty break up or anything, just one where a clean break was most likely.
But in September she found out Bug had cancer. Bug was 17 years old at the time & hadn't been feeling well for a little while. We just attributed it to age. It wasn't. It was a tumor in her chest. The poor thing kept getting fluid on her lungs & we kept having to have it drained.
So I started hanging out with my ex. Partially it was for her cause I knew this was tearing her up but partially for Bug.
I owned a cat once. Or rather it owned me. I was 10 when it died (hit by a car) & I haven't had the heart to get another cat since. I was 10 & I remember crying in the shower about it. So instead I keep dating (or trying to date) women with cats of their own (not on purpsoe though it seems that way at times). Not a perfect strategy as you'll see in a minute.
Bug was a cat. Not human, not able to effeciently communicate anything but very basic messages (I'm hungry, I want to be petted, etc..) but I liked the little furry thing. She was a real sweetheart. When me & the ex went to sleep we'd soon feel her lying on the pillow right above our heads. Roughly at quarter til 6 a.m. one or the other of us would wake up to find Bug & Chip staring us down, breathing heavily wanting us to get our asses up & give them their wet food. I typed at least a few hundred (if not thousand) pages with Bug sitting on my lap.
Anyway I went over there almost every day for a few weeks trying to make my ex & Bug & Chip feel better. There really wasn't much we could do except get her chest drained when her breathing got too labored. & we gave her food that she liked. She really dug those chicken things from Wendy's. & the cheese from Burger King cheeseburgers. We gave some to Chip too cause we kinda figured he knew something wasn't right & tried to give him as much attention as we could.
To shorten this up I went home & was getting ready for work one Sunday when my ex called. In the few hours since I left Bug got worse. So I called work & told them I'd be there at some point that night & flew over to my ex's place. We took Bug to the vet & they put her down.
That was around October of 2004.
A year later my ex was living in Illinois. She called in late August to let me know Chip wasn't doing well. I didn't hear from her again til mid October. She told me Chip was dead.
I really liked the cats. I really miss them. So despite my plan of not owning a cat so I wouldn't go through that feeling of loss again - well it didn't work out so well.
In '96 I dated a girl with two cats. We dated about a year & split up. I saw her at a bar a few years later & she told me that one of the cats had passed. I remember being cool but when I got home & started to think about it I cried my ass off. I haven't talked to her since so I have no idea how the other cat is doing but I assume the poor thing has passed by now.
There was a very special lady I dated (though she's quick to point out it was never "official") for a while who had a cat. We never shacked up but I did spend some time with her cat (who shall go nameless cause I always get the name wrong) & think we had a decent human-feline bond type thing going on. I haven't seen the cat in about a year & a half (though I've seen the lady a few times). While talking one day I asked how the cat was doing & she told me the cat "was in heaven". I really started to tear up a bit before she explained that she meant that the cat was just really digging their new place.
So in the past decade there have been 3 ladies whom I've cared for a great deal & there have been 5 cats between them all. I know 3 of the cats are gone & presumably the 4th as well. The 5th seems to be doing well & I hope that doesn't change anytime soon for my sake as well as the young lady's. & 2 of the ladies in question are pretty much done with me romantically & vice versa. The 3rd I have really no clue about. It could go either way. Truthfully I'm not that optimistic about things but it's hard to give up hope when you care about someone. & her cat.
Anyway I'm writing about this because of two of my old friends that aren't around anymore. They both passed around this time last year & the year before respectively. Shame as fall is my favorite time of year (well it's tied with early winter at least). I won't get all weepy & whine about it if you talk to me but when I'm alone typing I do miss Bug on my lap & Chip standing up with his front paws on my leg (he was never a good jumper but he tried bless his little heart) chirping for some attention.
I have some pics of Bug & Chip up & I'm trying to resize another one of the cat who shall remain nameless (though my photo editing program is acting nasty tonight). If it seems silly to spend so much time reminiscing about four legged mammals who never fetched anything for me you're probably right. But all humans are silly sometimes about some things I reckon. For what it's worth they were friends as much as a non-human can be so maybe it's not so silly to miss them after all?
"I believe my old lady she done found my black cat bone
I believe my old lady she done found my black cat bone
I got a funny feeling that uh something's going on wrong"
Contrast that with this Albert Collins & Robert Cray version
"I believe my baby got a black cat bone
I believe my baby got a black cat bone
seems like everything I do I do it wrong"
That's the nature of blues. The songs change from artist to artist & sometimes from gig to gig with the same artist.
But I'm going to write about a different kind of black cat, though the blues is an appropriate format to discuss things. (& with my luck in love I can't say the lyrics aren't generally appropriate but that's another tale).
Bug. I met her in 2002. I believe the month was May. At the time I was dating a girl who was moving here from Italy. She'd moved over there a few years before & was moving back. We ended up moving in together along with Bug & Chip. Bug & Chip were Felis Silvestris Catus. Cats in other words. Not particularly special cats as far as cats go (though Bug always seemed quite photogenic & Chip "talked" quite a bit) but we became friends. The lady in question was quite busy with school & traveled a bit while we were together so it's not an exaggaration to say I spent more time with the cats than I did with her.
By 2004 the relationship was quite rocky. Well, over more or less to be honest about it. We broke up in August & by September I had moved out. The lady & I had been good friends but it seemed like we wouldn't be talking much. Not a particularly nasty break up or anything, just one where a clean break was most likely.
But in September she found out Bug had cancer. Bug was 17 years old at the time & hadn't been feeling well for a little while. We just attributed it to age. It wasn't. It was a tumor in her chest. The poor thing kept getting fluid on her lungs & we kept having to have it drained.
So I started hanging out with my ex. Partially it was for her cause I knew this was tearing her up but partially for Bug.
I owned a cat once. Or rather it owned me. I was 10 when it died (hit by a car) & I haven't had the heart to get another cat since. I was 10 & I remember crying in the shower about it. So instead I keep dating (or trying to date) women with cats of their own (not on purpsoe though it seems that way at times). Not a perfect strategy as you'll see in a minute.
Bug was a cat. Not human, not able to effeciently communicate anything but very basic messages (I'm hungry, I want to be petted, etc..) but I liked the little furry thing. She was a real sweetheart. When me & the ex went to sleep we'd soon feel her lying on the pillow right above our heads. Roughly at quarter til 6 a.m. one or the other of us would wake up to find Bug & Chip staring us down, breathing heavily wanting us to get our asses up & give them their wet food. I typed at least a few hundred (if not thousand) pages with Bug sitting on my lap.
Anyway I went over there almost every day for a few weeks trying to make my ex & Bug & Chip feel better. There really wasn't much we could do except get her chest drained when her breathing got too labored. & we gave her food that she liked. She really dug those chicken things from Wendy's. & the cheese from Burger King cheeseburgers. We gave some to Chip too cause we kinda figured he knew something wasn't right & tried to give him as much attention as we could.
To shorten this up I went home & was getting ready for work one Sunday when my ex called. In the few hours since I left Bug got worse. So I called work & told them I'd be there at some point that night & flew over to my ex's place. We took Bug to the vet & they put her down.
That was around October of 2004.
A year later my ex was living in Illinois. She called in late August to let me know Chip wasn't doing well. I didn't hear from her again til mid October. She told me Chip was dead.
I really liked the cats. I really miss them. So despite my plan of not owning a cat so I wouldn't go through that feeling of loss again - well it didn't work out so well.
In '96 I dated a girl with two cats. We dated about a year & split up. I saw her at a bar a few years later & she told me that one of the cats had passed. I remember being cool but when I got home & started to think about it I cried my ass off. I haven't talked to her since so I have no idea how the other cat is doing but I assume the poor thing has passed by now.
There was a very special lady I dated (though she's quick to point out it was never "official") for a while who had a cat. We never shacked up but I did spend some time with her cat (who shall go nameless cause I always get the name wrong) & think we had a decent human-feline bond type thing going on. I haven't seen the cat in about a year & a half (though I've seen the lady a few times). While talking one day I asked how the cat was doing & she told me the cat "was in heaven". I really started to tear up a bit before she explained that she meant that the cat was just really digging their new place.
So in the past decade there have been 3 ladies whom I've cared for a great deal & there have been 5 cats between them all. I know 3 of the cats are gone & presumably the 4th as well. The 5th seems to be doing well & I hope that doesn't change anytime soon for my sake as well as the young lady's. & 2 of the ladies in question are pretty much done with me romantically & vice versa. The 3rd I have really no clue about. It could go either way. Truthfully I'm not that optimistic about things but it's hard to give up hope when you care about someone. & her cat.
Anyway I'm writing about this because of two of my old friends that aren't around anymore. They both passed around this time last year & the year before respectively. Shame as fall is my favorite time of year (well it's tied with early winter at least). I won't get all weepy & whine about it if you talk to me but when I'm alone typing I do miss Bug on my lap & Chip standing up with his front paws on my leg (he was never a good jumper but he tried bless his little heart) chirping for some attention.
I have some pics of Bug & Chip up & I'm trying to resize another one of the cat who shall remain nameless (though my photo editing program is acting nasty tonight). If it seems silly to spend so much time reminiscing about four legged mammals who never fetched anything for me you're probably right. But all humans are silly sometimes about some things I reckon. For what it's worth they were friends as much as a non-human can be so maybe it's not so silly to miss them after all?
Saturday, October 7, 2006
Wishes
A Jon Butcher tune. If you've never heard it then go to my friends list & check out Jon Butcher's MySpace page. Wishes is on his player.
It's a cute little psuedo R&B tune with hints of Hendrix throughout the guitar work but for some reason I always dug it (though I'm not a big fan of Hendrix's playing - I dug how he wrote but wasn't crazy about his playing). & Butcher's voice is nice which is always a plus.
The lyrics hold a simple premise - dreaming is cool but it shouldn't negate action.
I don't have time for an in depth discussion of the music or melody or guitar work or lyrics or the deeper meaning of life or the best laid plans of mice. I just stumbled onto the song & then Butcher's MySpace page & I'm just groovin on it. When it first came out I was a young guitarist & really dug the sound & the playing & was just generally fond of the tune. But I haven't heard it in years till last night. Now you can check it out too & hopefully see why I dig it.
It's a cute little psuedo R&B tune with hints of Hendrix throughout the guitar work but for some reason I always dug it (though I'm not a big fan of Hendrix's playing - I dug how he wrote but wasn't crazy about his playing). & Butcher's voice is nice which is always a plus.
The lyrics hold a simple premise - dreaming is cool but it shouldn't negate action.
I don't have time for an in depth discussion of the music or melody or guitar work or lyrics or the deeper meaning of life or the best laid plans of mice. I just stumbled onto the song & then Butcher's MySpace page & I'm just groovin on it. When it first came out I was a young guitarist & really dug the sound & the playing & was just generally fond of the tune. But I haven't heard it in years till last night. Now you can check it out too & hopefully see why I dig it.
Monday, October 2, 2006
Fallin' In Love (Is Hard On The Knees)
No I'm not complaining about getting old. Well not right now at least. It's an Aerosmith tune. Maybe not my fav but it always makes me smile a bit. It's chock full of more witticisms than a catalog of bad country tunes, but it pulls them off with a little dignity. Here's Aerosmith doing it live in Japan back in '99.
"I'm Jonesin' on love
Yeah I got the DT's
You say that we will
But there ain't no guarantees
I major in love
But in all minor keys
Cause falling in love is so hard on the knees"
But the thing that always gets me is in the last verse:
"You ain't that good
Is what you said down to the letter
But you like the way I hold the microphone
Sometimes I'm good but when I'm bad
I'm even better
Don't give me no lip
I've got enough of my own"
If you recall what Steven Tyler looks like you'll understand the only way that could have been funnier is if Mick Jagger had sung that verse. But maybe I'm just partial. Any singer who can croon that his "get up & go has got up & went" has enough of a self depreciating sense of humor that it reminds me of me.
& like most songs about unrequited love the message is valid - it ain't easy to go through. Hell it ain't even easy to remember the feeling years later. But it doesn't approach it in the sappy co-dependent way that most attempts at the subject do.
& the execution is typical Aerosmith. Bluesy, soulful yet not wishy-washy. It won't make you feel better if you're bummed about a love interest. No song will do that, not even something by Babyface. We are musicians, not magicians & they're songs, not magic. But it can help you understand what you feel, or at least find a little comfort in the idea that you ain't the only one to go through something like this. & it might even make you smile a little. That's about as much as you can hope for in a song - emotion, empathy & a little humor. If you've never heard it or it's been a while give it a listen again even if your love life is going well.
"I'm Jonesin' on love
Yeah I got the DT's
You say that we will
But there ain't no guarantees
I major in love
But in all minor keys
Cause falling in love is so hard on the knees"
But the thing that always gets me is in the last verse:
"You ain't that good
Is what you said down to the letter
But you like the way I hold the microphone
Sometimes I'm good but when I'm bad
I'm even better
Don't give me no lip
I've got enough of my own"
If you recall what Steven Tyler looks like you'll understand the only way that could have been funnier is if Mick Jagger had sung that verse. But maybe I'm just partial. Any singer who can croon that his "get up & go has got up & went" has enough of a self depreciating sense of humor that it reminds me of me.
& like most songs about unrequited love the message is valid - it ain't easy to go through. Hell it ain't even easy to remember the feeling years later. But it doesn't approach it in the sappy co-dependent way that most attempts at the subject do.
& the execution is typical Aerosmith. Bluesy, soulful yet not wishy-washy. It won't make you feel better if you're bummed about a love interest. No song will do that, not even something by Babyface. We are musicians, not magicians & they're songs, not magic. But it can help you understand what you feel, or at least find a little comfort in the idea that you ain't the only one to go through something like this. & it might even make you smile a little. That's about as much as you can hope for in a song - emotion, empathy & a little humor. If you've never heard it or it's been a while give it a listen again even if your love life is going well.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Crazy
Aerosmith. I always liked them for some reason. A ballad like "Crazy" makes me feel justified in that (here's the director's cut of the vid). Besides some of their lyrics are just plain funny. In Crazy you have the line
“You're packing up your stuff & talking like it's tough & telling me it's time to go
But I know you ain't wearing nothing underneath that overcoat & it's all for show"
K, funny in a slightly twisted way, but like I have room to talk.
Another line that cracked me up for no discernible reason - from the song Pink (here's the vid)
"Pink is like red but not quite"
Ah.
Anyway A very touching part of "Crazy" is where Tyler sings a line & the melody is doubled on guitar. Just four words - "I need your love".
I never made any pretense that I was all wise & all knowing int he realm of relationships. I know a little & I really do try my best to guess what's missing but I admit to a certain cluelessness. A lot of what I do know comes from lyrics. It sounds odd but if you look in the right spots there's some wisdom in songs. After all most musicians are an emotional lot & try to stay in touch with things of this nature, so it's no wonder than once in a while someone will say something deep, or touching or even correct.
Need though.
I have a very strict definition of need. In short the only things I need are food, water & shelter. Everything else is a want, not a need. But perhaps when it comes to relationships I'm mistaken.
One of the funny things to me is that the majority of love songs are based upon co-dependent relationships. The word "need" typifies it but sometimes there are more subtle clues. Still it's usually a "need' based perspective. sure, there are songs about "wanting" someone but I think most deal with "need".
So is it possible to "need" someone & not be co-dependent?
My mother was with her husband from sometime in the early 80's till this past May. She died & it tore him up something fierce. Now truth be told I always thought he was an ass & haven't spoke to him since my mother passed, but I won't deny his pain. Still from what I saw of his behavior he was co-dependent on her.
In general I've never liked the co-dependency of relationships. It's alluring at times; there's no security like knowing the other person doesn't think they can get by without you - but it's not that good for all involved from what I've seen. Still it works for some people & even makes them happy.
Going back to my strict definition of need I don't think I have ever thought I couldn't live without a specific person. I've thought I'd be eternally miserable without some of my ex g/f's when we busted up, but nothing ever met my definition of need.
Want is another topic altogether. There have been some women I've wanted so badly that it caused pain. & I don't mean just wanting to sleep with them; I mean wanting them in my life. But where does want become so strong that it's an emotional need? & can it be done without having the disadvantages of co-dependency?
“You're packing up your stuff & talking like it's tough & telling me it's time to go
But I know you ain't wearing nothing underneath that overcoat & it's all for show"
K, funny in a slightly twisted way, but like I have room to talk.
Another line that cracked me up for no discernible reason - from the song Pink (here's the vid)
"Pink is like red but not quite"
Ah.
Anyway A very touching part of "Crazy" is where Tyler sings a line & the melody is doubled on guitar. Just four words - "I need your love".
I never made any pretense that I was all wise & all knowing int he realm of relationships. I know a little & I really do try my best to guess what's missing but I admit to a certain cluelessness. A lot of what I do know comes from lyrics. It sounds odd but if you look in the right spots there's some wisdom in songs. After all most musicians are an emotional lot & try to stay in touch with things of this nature, so it's no wonder than once in a while someone will say something deep, or touching or even correct.
Need though.
I have a very strict definition of need. In short the only things I need are food, water & shelter. Everything else is a want, not a need. But perhaps when it comes to relationships I'm mistaken.
One of the funny things to me is that the majority of love songs are based upon co-dependent relationships. The word "need" typifies it but sometimes there are more subtle clues. Still it's usually a "need' based perspective. sure, there are songs about "wanting" someone but I think most deal with "need".
So is it possible to "need" someone & not be co-dependent?
My mother was with her husband from sometime in the early 80's till this past May. She died & it tore him up something fierce. Now truth be told I always thought he was an ass & haven't spoke to him since my mother passed, but I won't deny his pain. Still from what I saw of his behavior he was co-dependent on her.
In general I've never liked the co-dependency of relationships. It's alluring at times; there's no security like knowing the other person doesn't think they can get by without you - but it's not that good for all involved from what I've seen. Still it works for some people & even makes them happy.
Going back to my strict definition of need I don't think I have ever thought I couldn't live without a specific person. I've thought I'd be eternally miserable without some of my ex g/f's when we busted up, but nothing ever met my definition of need.
Want is another topic altogether. There have been some women I've wanted so badly that it caused pain. & I don't mean just wanting to sleep with them; I mean wanting them in my life. But where does want become so strong that it's an emotional need? & can it be done without having the disadvantages of co-dependency?
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I'll Wait
Old Van Halen. Love 'em, hate 'em but they were an influential part of the music biz & still are to some extent. "I'll Wait" wasn't there biggest hit or most artful tune but it has a charm about it, at least to me. Here's a vid of Van Halen doing the tune live.
"You've got me captured I'm under your spell
I guess I'll never learn
I have your pictureYes I know it well
Another page is turned
Are you for real?It's so hard to tell
From just a magazine
Yeah, you just smile and the picture sells
Look what that does to me
I'll wait'Til your love comes down
I'm coming straight for your heart
No wayYou can stop me now
As fine as you are"
You can kinda figure it out for yourself. The part that has relevance today is the next verse:
"I wrote a letter And told her these words
That meant a lot to me
I never sent it She wouldn't have heard
Her eyes don't follow me"
That's why you're reading this.
When something is on my mind I write about it. Those of you that know me well know I can be a bit verbose. Okay "wordy bastard", "long winded sucker" & "fool that run his mouth too damn much" are more likely how you'd describe it.
When I was in my early 20's I had an interesting relationship. Interesting in the "I wonder how many years of therapy it will take him to pretend to be normal again?" sense. The girl had serious drama - monolithic radiated stripper drama to the power of wtf?!? - & I was too young to know that I should have just ran screaming into the night. Or day. Or dusk even. My friends got tired of hearing me talk about her while I was trying to figure her out so I took to writing. I forget how many notebooks I had filled in an utterly vain attempt to rationalize or even understand her behavior. I got over the situation & over her (though being the sucker I am I still care for her) but the habit stuck.
& it's not just about relationships though that's primarily what I write about here. On my other blog it's mainly politics & law. In the past I've posted on forums dealing with a few different subjects (though mainly guns) & in my first years on the internet I hung out in chat rooms (Star Wars chat rooms mind ya) & argued damn near anything. I'm the over-analytical sort & if something is on my mind & I have the time I end up writing about it.
Course for years I simply didn't have an outlet for it but now thanks to the ease of the internet you get to find out the true meaning of "not brief".
Most of the things I write on here are personal or personal in origin, though not necessarily something I've just started to ponder. & it may or may not be relevant to anything going on in my life at the moment. Just to be clear if I do ever write anything that has bearing on anything in my personal life I will do it in such a way that any other parties cannot be identified. The way I was raised a man kept his mouth shut about anything that could cause embarrassment to anyone he knew, especially ladies. I just wish that applied to "myself".
Usually though the things most relevant to any situation I'm going through I write about extensively & just never do anything with it. Sometimes it does me more good just to jot things down than it would to actually send them to anyone else, or publish them. It's not the cheapest therapy I know of but it's the most convenient. Besides it keeps me from boring anyone to death through long ass essays on the deeper meaning of Llama fetishes, or whether "I love Ewe' on a card means someone just likes me for my livestock..
But I write. Badly at times. & too damn much. Hell I'm damn near 35 years old & still typing to myself.
"You've got me captured I'm under your spell
I guess I'll never learn
I have your pictureYes I know it well
Another page is turned
Are you for real?It's so hard to tell
From just a magazine
Yeah, you just smile and the picture sells
Look what that does to me
I'll wait'Til your love comes down
I'm coming straight for your heart
No wayYou can stop me now
As fine as you are"
You can kinda figure it out for yourself. The part that has relevance today is the next verse:
"I wrote a letter And told her these words
That meant a lot to me
I never sent it She wouldn't have heard
Her eyes don't follow me"
That's why you're reading this.
When something is on my mind I write about it. Those of you that know me well know I can be a bit verbose. Okay "wordy bastard", "long winded sucker" & "fool that run his mouth too damn much" are more likely how you'd describe it.
When I was in my early 20's I had an interesting relationship. Interesting in the "I wonder how many years of therapy it will take him to pretend to be normal again?" sense. The girl had serious drama - monolithic radiated stripper drama to the power of wtf?!? - & I was too young to know that I should have just ran screaming into the night. Or day. Or dusk even. My friends got tired of hearing me talk about her while I was trying to figure her out so I took to writing. I forget how many notebooks I had filled in an utterly vain attempt to rationalize or even understand her behavior. I got over the situation & over her (though being the sucker I am I still care for her) but the habit stuck.
& it's not just about relationships though that's primarily what I write about here. On my other blog it's mainly politics & law. In the past I've posted on forums dealing with a few different subjects (though mainly guns) & in my first years on the internet I hung out in chat rooms (Star Wars chat rooms mind ya) & argued damn near anything. I'm the over-analytical sort & if something is on my mind & I have the time I end up writing about it.
Course for years I simply didn't have an outlet for it but now thanks to the ease of the internet you get to find out the true meaning of "not brief".
Most of the things I write on here are personal or personal in origin, though not necessarily something I've just started to ponder. & it may or may not be relevant to anything going on in my life at the moment. Just to be clear if I do ever write anything that has bearing on anything in my personal life I will do it in such a way that any other parties cannot be identified. The way I was raised a man kept his mouth shut about anything that could cause embarrassment to anyone he knew, especially ladies. I just wish that applied to "myself".
Usually though the things most relevant to any situation I'm going through I write about extensively & just never do anything with it. Sometimes it does me more good just to jot things down than it would to actually send them to anyone else, or publish them. It's not the cheapest therapy I know of but it's the most convenient. Besides it keeps me from boring anyone to death through long ass essays on the deeper meaning of Llama fetishes, or whether "I love Ewe' on a card means someone just likes me for my livestock..
But I write. Badly at times. & too damn much. Hell I'm damn near 35 years old & still typing to myself.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Jaded
Aerosmith again. Here's the vid. It's a more relevant title but perhaps "Janie's Got A Gun" would be more fitting with the topic I'm writing about today although it's not exactly right either.
Emotional abuse is a big problem not just for the victims but for those around the victims.
The way it typically works is a girl meets a guy she thinks is cool & who treats her cool. She keeps thinking he’s cool even as his behavior gradually becomes worse. She admires &/or respects him in addition to caring for him & ignores or rationalizes the deteriorating behavior until it reaches a critical point. By the time she sees it as being bad for her she’s already damaged.
The damage most often is a loss of self esteem or self worth. It doesn’t end when the abuse ends either. For weeks, months, sometimes years (depending on the nature of the abuse & longevity of it) the girl has problems with how she views herself & consequently how others view her. It can & often results in seemingly erratic behavior for the girl. Shell do things she wouldn’t normally do, or do things in a way that doesn’t seem to fit her personality.
Case in point A friend of mine was in such a relationship prior to our meeting. Her sense of self worth was approaching zero though she hid it very well. At school or parties she acted normal enough for her friends not to notice. But when pressed she would often break down & confess that she wasn’t deserving of anyone caring for her. Consequently she viewed my caring for her first as misplaced (he doesn’t really know me he just thinks he cares) & then as me trying to manipulate her (he claims he cares because he wants to sleep with me).
She went from relationship to relationship for years without a break in between them. She was afraid to be without a boyfriend or lover as being alone would have validated (in her mind) the degradation she had suffered. & she followed the same pattern just as those caught in a cycle of physically abusive relationships do; every guy she was attracted to turned out to mistreat her emotionally.
What altered things for her was a relationship where the guy was showing signs of getting physically abusive. It scared her enough that she realized she had things to deal with & took actions to help her recover.
Vary a detail or two her & there & you have a very common way of life for far too many women. The details will vary of course as each person handles things slightly differently but the basics are the same: girl meets guy & thinks he’s nice, guy shows signs of worsening behavior that girl rationalizes, girl realizes guy has messed with her head.
Some women go through it once & that’s it. Any warning signs & they leave. Others go through it multiple times not realizing what they’re doing or is being done to them. Still others shut themselves off as much as possible after going through too much mental trauma.
Another sad aspect of this is that usually (but not always) the girl has someone in her life that genuinely cares, but because of her condition she rejects that caring out of hand, or simply doesn’t take the comfort she could take from it.
I’ve had many friends over the years that have gone through something similar to what I described above. Some have been platonic relationships others have been of a more romantic nature. In each case there came a point when their behavior was so erratic that they seemed very unstable. Tailspin is how a few of my friends used to describe it as their actions made as much sense as a plane going down out of control. It was most obvious in folks who seemed the most stable prior to the damage occurring, but it was noticeable to some degree in each of them.
The difficult part for me & presumably for anyone who cares about someone suffering from the after effects of emotional abuse is that there’s little you can do for them. It takes them realizing the damage that’s been done to them & then wanting to straighten themselves up. No one can do it for them & its not that different from what you go through with a pal who has an alcohol or drug addiction. You watch helplessly until they attempt to help themselves & then you be as supportive as you can.
From what I’ve seen the worst damage occurs when the girl belittles her self worth. She doesn’t understand how anyone could value her as a person, since the guy she admired/respected/cared for/loved treated her like dirt. She feels she deserves this sort of treatment that her value is not as a person but perhaps as a possession. When someone tells her that she’s beautiful or that they care she assumes its insincere & there’s an ulterior motive. The justification is usually along the lines of After all, who could really care for me or think I’m attractive?
Some girls start to equate their self worth with their willingness to perform sexually. Flirting or behaving in a bolder than usual fashion towards the opposite sex usually happens when self worth becoming synonymous with sex is present but not prominent. The attention she gets from this behavior helps her think she is valuable, even if only as an object. Promiscuity in girls who otherwise have been very selective of their partners seems to be common enough to note when the above is prominent. If the atypical promiscuity occurs it is either from the girl enjoying the attention it brings her or in very severe cases from her simply thinking that sex is all she’s good for & that she may as well have it with as many men as possible. It can be an outside source of self esteem when that is lacking in the girls own mind, or it can be a way to get back at an abusive partner or ex-partner.
At times the damage is more subtle. It’s still the same type a depreciation of self value but it isn’t as obvious to the girl or those around her. Consciously they rarely admit to themselves that they don’t think they’re desirable or important, but the results can be the same in slightly more subtle proportions.
I had another friend who went through some emotional abuse as a teen. By the time I met her she seemed fine but as we got to know each other the effects manifested themselves. In the end she went back & forth between myself & another guy until she convinced him to impregnate her. I was too young to recognize what she was going through or how to act about it plus I was emotionally involved which always clouds judgment. Last I heard she was still in the same pattern years afterwards. I believe (but I’m not positive) that her motivation was that since she was only useful for sex shed use it to her advantage.
Decision making can be very tough when suffering the after effects of emotional abuse. The way I believe it works is that the girl’s emotions start to dominate her life (thus partially causing the erratic behavior) & she feels almost helpless in the face of her actions. Most women don’t enjoy the out of control feeling associated with it but fear prevents them from altering their behavior. Making a decision, especially of a romantic nature can be frightening in normal circumstances, but especially so for those with emotional damage. Taking responsibility for their actions by making a decision opens them up to blame if that decision turns out badly for them or anyone else. & its understandable since the emotional abuse & degradation usually was justified by the attacker as a response to a decision or action.
So some symptoms of emotional abuse are low self esteem/sense of self worth, erratic behavior, rejection of caring from those around her, difficulty in trusting others (& in some cases herself), inability or unwillingness to make decisions, atypical flirting or promiscuity, attempts to avoid responsibility socially & withdrawal (physical, emotional or a combination of both). These are by no means all of the symptoms & the presence of one or even multiple symptoms does not necessarily mean that emotional abuse has occurred but in my experience (which means its anecdotal & should be taken with a grain of salt) those are the ones I’ve seen most frequently in women I’ve known to have been through emotional trauma in a relationship. They can occur individually, concurrently or combined in any number. & of course depression can result.
Again not much can be done for someone who is going through this. Being a supportive friend/lover/partner is all that can be done until the person tries to help themselves.
For me that’s the most difficult part. Just seeing an acquaintance go through something of this nature is hard enough, but when its a friend or someone I genuinely care for its damn near heartbreaking. If its a friend that I feel close enough to, or a love interest, or a combination of both it can be almost as traumatic for me as for them. The tailspin analogy well imagine following your friend as she dives down out of control as you keep yelling Eject! hoping she hears you before you both crash. But there’s not much that can be done. Trying to tell someone they’re going through this doesn’t usually result in them acknowledging it; much like telling an alcoholic that they need AA rarely results in them attending meetings.
Ill admit up front that I can be a jerk. But typically I reserve that behavior for those I feel its justified upon. A guy I work with who slacks off & causes problems sees that side of me. A pal who says something I don’t agree with doesn’t. Still I’m usually considered a nice guy or at least a good guy by most who know me well. With that in mind I have never understood the actions of men who emotionally abuse their partners. Arguments I can understand & disagreements happen. But to degrade the person you’re committed to is simply an inexcusable act. If the person is really that uncool for you then moving on is the proper solution, not trying to use some twisted form of negative reinforcement to mold her into what you wish her to be.
I won’t deny that I’m bitter about the subject. Not just because of the anguish I see the victims go through, but because there have been several times where I cared for someone & wanted a relationship with them but the damage done by previous partners had made that damn near impossible.
As I said when a lady has self esteem problems it can alter her ability to make evaluations. I’m not saying that if it weren’t for that they’d have all fallen for me. I’m saying they’d have been less likely to think my judgment was off & therefore I was unsuitable or that I was attempting to use them for my own purposes. I have friends who have had similar experiences so I’m assuming that its not just my bad luck but a more common occurrence.
A little bit about attraction:
There are a lot of guys who see a woman as a means to an end. They think that if they have the woman then they have sex. Or security. Or a potential mother. Or insert role here. Usually these can be spotted from a distance by most women, but those suffering the after effect of emotional abuse can have their judgment impaired enough to not realize it until its too late.
Other guys genuinely care for the woman. Not as a potential tool of some sort, but they care for her as a person. For myself I like women in general but every now & then one will come along that I just see something special about. Its not necessarily someone who could be a Playboy model or a rocket scientist or the perfect mother. Its not that I don’t see their flaws & shortcomings. But something about her makes me sincerely believe she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, both externally & internally. When that occurs then I wouldn’t trade that person for anyone else or everyone else. I just see a beauty in them & want to express the feeling it inspires (which isn’t always sexual).
Unfortunately I have felt that way about women who were in that tailspin I keep referring to. When my attempts to care weren’t rejected out of hand it was a struggle to gain their trust & their willingness to pursue anything other than an occasional acquaintance. As I’m still single its obvious that none of them worked out in the long run, but not always because of the prior abuse they suffered. Still it made things more difficult for all concerned than it should have been.
I’ve mentioned it a few times but it bears repeating what occurred most common in my experiences was such low self esteem that my sincerity was questioned. They simply did not believe that someone they thought of as a nice guy could care about them, so they assumed I was manipulating them & shut themselves off emotionally to me. I don’t think that my experiences were uncommon though I’m not sure how often this occurs with other people.
What adds sting to injury is they would often end up with men who either were just using them for some goal or with men who continued the emotionally abusive behavior. Don’t misunderstand me I’m not saying that since they rejected me in some fashion that the men they ended up with were obviously flawed. I’m pretty aware of my attributes & detriments & in general I feel Id be a better than average partner for some, worse than average for some & for a very few Id be a much better choice than most others (& with a very select few Id be close to the mythical perfect match). But those that suffered from emotional abuse to any notable degree that I’ve kept in touch with (or heard about after I gave up trying to be in their world) have usually (but not always) ended up with someone who used them or who emotionally abused them.
This is caused by a few things. I’ve covered the lack of self worth leading to an unwillingness to trust that someone genuinely cares about them. Also the desire to avoid making decisions can cause the wrong choice to be made. That one can cut both ways; a guy who leaves the situation after becoming frustrated with the hurdles could be viewed as not really caring, or conversely a guy who sticks around & attempts to break through the barriers could be viewed as not being desirable since he obviously had no other prospects & must have serious issues of his own (or so the reasoning goes). There’s just no way to tell how the chips will fall as it will vary with each woman & her circumstances (as well as her basic attraction to the guy) so any guy who attempts to care about someone in such a state is rolling the dice more so than with someone who had not suffered emotional abuse.
There are varying degrees of emotional abuse. They range from someone casually & occasionally making derogatory remarks to yelling & screaming that seems on the verge of becoming physical. It can be overt belittlement of a partner or a more subtle attempt to manipulate their emotions via fear & insecurity. Baseless accusations of infidelity, claiming the woman is ungrateful for all that’s been done for her, making her feel as if she can do nothing correctly, that she should be lucky to be with someone because no one else would want her, being nice one minute then for no explanation becoming volatile, ignoring or disregarding her feelings or emotions, attempting to separate her from friends or family, making decisions for her, tying her value in the relationship to a specific role (sex partner, housekeeper, mother, etc) &/or objectifying her are some of the most common forms emotional abuse takes. & because each woman is a different person the effects of the abuse vary in both degree & symptom. I think the base damage is the same in all cases but its severity differs in each case. The very unfortunate women find themselves with multiple relationships (usually in a row) that they receive damage from.
So what can be done? As I said the friends, lovers, family & other bystanders can’t do much. Offering mental & emotional support is all we can do.
For the woman suffering from the effects she first & foremost has to recover her self esteem. But it has to be done in a way that’s not harmful to her. Becoming a stripper or prostitute or generally being promiscuous will make her feel wanted, but not in a healthy enough way for her to regain control of herself. (note: I don’t have any serious moral, ethical or pragmatic objections to prostitution, stripping or general promiscuity IF they are taken up under the correct circumstances.)
She has to accept that not only is she a person with value to herself, but with value to others as well. She has to recognize that she has qualities that make her desirable as a person not merely as an object or a servant of some sort. Perhaps the hardest part is for a woman in this state to see that despite her flaws she can be cared for very deeply by others & that she deserves to care about herself independently of others.
Taking control of her life is almost as important. Making decisions & accepting the consequences for them can be difficult but its necessary to regain control of her world. Accepting that mistakes or bad decisions do not validate the abuse can be hard especially at first, but again it’s something that’s vital to her recovery.
Learning to trust others & to discern between those who genuinely care & those who do not is another hurdle to overcome. It takes time & patience both on the part of the woman & those who care for her. Speaking from experience I can say its not easy at all, but its not impossible if the woman truly wants to be able to trust people again.
These are all just my thoughts based on my experiences. Take them with as much salt as you wish. Im not a psychologist or psychiatrist & truth be told I have little respect for those fields for a number of reasons. I'm no expert & I can only see these things from a male perspective. But I have been around the block a few dozen times & this is what I’ve concluded so far. If I seem to have anything wrong corrections are always welcome. I focused on emotional abuse suffered by women because in my experience it’s far more common than for men to suffer it, though men can be victims as well.
& the reason for this musing on the mental health of women who have had very bad relationships? A friend called the other day that had been through a few of them & we discussed the effects they had on her life. One of the things we spent the most time discussing was that it took her a long time to realize what she had been through & its effects on her therefore longer than it could have taken for her to get back on track. So maybe this will help you or someone you know.
Emotional abuse is a big problem not just for the victims but for those around the victims.
The way it typically works is a girl meets a guy she thinks is cool & who treats her cool. She keeps thinking he’s cool even as his behavior gradually becomes worse. She admires &/or respects him in addition to caring for him & ignores or rationalizes the deteriorating behavior until it reaches a critical point. By the time she sees it as being bad for her she’s already damaged.
The damage most often is a loss of self esteem or self worth. It doesn’t end when the abuse ends either. For weeks, months, sometimes years (depending on the nature of the abuse & longevity of it) the girl has problems with how she views herself & consequently how others view her. It can & often results in seemingly erratic behavior for the girl. Shell do things she wouldn’t normally do, or do things in a way that doesn’t seem to fit her personality.
Case in point A friend of mine was in such a relationship prior to our meeting. Her sense of self worth was approaching zero though she hid it very well. At school or parties she acted normal enough for her friends not to notice. But when pressed she would often break down & confess that she wasn’t deserving of anyone caring for her. Consequently she viewed my caring for her first as misplaced (he doesn’t really know me he just thinks he cares) & then as me trying to manipulate her (he claims he cares because he wants to sleep with me).
She went from relationship to relationship for years without a break in between them. She was afraid to be without a boyfriend or lover as being alone would have validated (in her mind) the degradation she had suffered. & she followed the same pattern just as those caught in a cycle of physically abusive relationships do; every guy she was attracted to turned out to mistreat her emotionally.
What altered things for her was a relationship where the guy was showing signs of getting physically abusive. It scared her enough that she realized she had things to deal with & took actions to help her recover.
Vary a detail or two her & there & you have a very common way of life for far too many women. The details will vary of course as each person handles things slightly differently but the basics are the same: girl meets guy & thinks he’s nice, guy shows signs of worsening behavior that girl rationalizes, girl realizes guy has messed with her head.
Some women go through it once & that’s it. Any warning signs & they leave. Others go through it multiple times not realizing what they’re doing or is being done to them. Still others shut themselves off as much as possible after going through too much mental trauma.
Another sad aspect of this is that usually (but not always) the girl has someone in her life that genuinely cares, but because of her condition she rejects that caring out of hand, or simply doesn’t take the comfort she could take from it.
I’ve had many friends over the years that have gone through something similar to what I described above. Some have been platonic relationships others have been of a more romantic nature. In each case there came a point when their behavior was so erratic that they seemed very unstable. Tailspin is how a few of my friends used to describe it as their actions made as much sense as a plane going down out of control. It was most obvious in folks who seemed the most stable prior to the damage occurring, but it was noticeable to some degree in each of them.
The difficult part for me & presumably for anyone who cares about someone suffering from the after effects of emotional abuse is that there’s little you can do for them. It takes them realizing the damage that’s been done to them & then wanting to straighten themselves up. No one can do it for them & its not that different from what you go through with a pal who has an alcohol or drug addiction. You watch helplessly until they attempt to help themselves & then you be as supportive as you can.
From what I’ve seen the worst damage occurs when the girl belittles her self worth. She doesn’t understand how anyone could value her as a person, since the guy she admired/respected/cared for/loved treated her like dirt. She feels she deserves this sort of treatment that her value is not as a person but perhaps as a possession. When someone tells her that she’s beautiful or that they care she assumes its insincere & there’s an ulterior motive. The justification is usually along the lines of After all, who could really care for me or think I’m attractive?
Some girls start to equate their self worth with their willingness to perform sexually. Flirting or behaving in a bolder than usual fashion towards the opposite sex usually happens when self worth becoming synonymous with sex is present but not prominent. The attention she gets from this behavior helps her think she is valuable, even if only as an object. Promiscuity in girls who otherwise have been very selective of their partners seems to be common enough to note when the above is prominent. If the atypical promiscuity occurs it is either from the girl enjoying the attention it brings her or in very severe cases from her simply thinking that sex is all she’s good for & that she may as well have it with as many men as possible. It can be an outside source of self esteem when that is lacking in the girls own mind, or it can be a way to get back at an abusive partner or ex-partner.
At times the damage is more subtle. It’s still the same type a depreciation of self value but it isn’t as obvious to the girl or those around her. Consciously they rarely admit to themselves that they don’t think they’re desirable or important, but the results can be the same in slightly more subtle proportions.
I had another friend who went through some emotional abuse as a teen. By the time I met her she seemed fine but as we got to know each other the effects manifested themselves. In the end she went back & forth between myself & another guy until she convinced him to impregnate her. I was too young to recognize what she was going through or how to act about it plus I was emotionally involved which always clouds judgment. Last I heard she was still in the same pattern years afterwards. I believe (but I’m not positive) that her motivation was that since she was only useful for sex shed use it to her advantage.
Decision making can be very tough when suffering the after effects of emotional abuse. The way I believe it works is that the girl’s emotions start to dominate her life (thus partially causing the erratic behavior) & she feels almost helpless in the face of her actions. Most women don’t enjoy the out of control feeling associated with it but fear prevents them from altering their behavior. Making a decision, especially of a romantic nature can be frightening in normal circumstances, but especially so for those with emotional damage. Taking responsibility for their actions by making a decision opens them up to blame if that decision turns out badly for them or anyone else. & its understandable since the emotional abuse & degradation usually was justified by the attacker as a response to a decision or action.
So some symptoms of emotional abuse are low self esteem/sense of self worth, erratic behavior, rejection of caring from those around her, difficulty in trusting others (& in some cases herself), inability or unwillingness to make decisions, atypical flirting or promiscuity, attempts to avoid responsibility socially & withdrawal (physical, emotional or a combination of both). These are by no means all of the symptoms & the presence of one or even multiple symptoms does not necessarily mean that emotional abuse has occurred but in my experience (which means its anecdotal & should be taken with a grain of salt) those are the ones I’ve seen most frequently in women I’ve known to have been through emotional trauma in a relationship. They can occur individually, concurrently or combined in any number. & of course depression can result.
Again not much can be done for someone who is going through this. Being a supportive friend/lover/partner is all that can be done until the person tries to help themselves.
For me that’s the most difficult part. Just seeing an acquaintance go through something of this nature is hard enough, but when its a friend or someone I genuinely care for its damn near heartbreaking. If its a friend that I feel close enough to, or a love interest, or a combination of both it can be almost as traumatic for me as for them. The tailspin analogy well imagine following your friend as she dives down out of control as you keep yelling Eject! hoping she hears you before you both crash. But there’s not much that can be done. Trying to tell someone they’re going through this doesn’t usually result in them acknowledging it; much like telling an alcoholic that they need AA rarely results in them attending meetings.
Ill admit up front that I can be a jerk. But typically I reserve that behavior for those I feel its justified upon. A guy I work with who slacks off & causes problems sees that side of me. A pal who says something I don’t agree with doesn’t. Still I’m usually considered a nice guy or at least a good guy by most who know me well. With that in mind I have never understood the actions of men who emotionally abuse their partners. Arguments I can understand & disagreements happen. But to degrade the person you’re committed to is simply an inexcusable act. If the person is really that uncool for you then moving on is the proper solution, not trying to use some twisted form of negative reinforcement to mold her into what you wish her to be.
I won’t deny that I’m bitter about the subject. Not just because of the anguish I see the victims go through, but because there have been several times where I cared for someone & wanted a relationship with them but the damage done by previous partners had made that damn near impossible.
As I said when a lady has self esteem problems it can alter her ability to make evaluations. I’m not saying that if it weren’t for that they’d have all fallen for me. I’m saying they’d have been less likely to think my judgment was off & therefore I was unsuitable or that I was attempting to use them for my own purposes. I have friends who have had similar experiences so I’m assuming that its not just my bad luck but a more common occurrence.
A little bit about attraction:
There are a lot of guys who see a woman as a means to an end. They think that if they have the woman then they have sex. Or security. Or a potential mother. Or insert role here. Usually these can be spotted from a distance by most women, but those suffering the after effect of emotional abuse can have their judgment impaired enough to not realize it until its too late.
Other guys genuinely care for the woman. Not as a potential tool of some sort, but they care for her as a person. For myself I like women in general but every now & then one will come along that I just see something special about. Its not necessarily someone who could be a Playboy model or a rocket scientist or the perfect mother. Its not that I don’t see their flaws & shortcomings. But something about her makes me sincerely believe she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, both externally & internally. When that occurs then I wouldn’t trade that person for anyone else or everyone else. I just see a beauty in them & want to express the feeling it inspires (which isn’t always sexual).
Unfortunately I have felt that way about women who were in that tailspin I keep referring to. When my attempts to care weren’t rejected out of hand it was a struggle to gain their trust & their willingness to pursue anything other than an occasional acquaintance. As I’m still single its obvious that none of them worked out in the long run, but not always because of the prior abuse they suffered. Still it made things more difficult for all concerned than it should have been.
I’ve mentioned it a few times but it bears repeating what occurred most common in my experiences was such low self esteem that my sincerity was questioned. They simply did not believe that someone they thought of as a nice guy could care about them, so they assumed I was manipulating them & shut themselves off emotionally to me. I don’t think that my experiences were uncommon though I’m not sure how often this occurs with other people.
What adds sting to injury is they would often end up with men who either were just using them for some goal or with men who continued the emotionally abusive behavior. Don’t misunderstand me I’m not saying that since they rejected me in some fashion that the men they ended up with were obviously flawed. I’m pretty aware of my attributes & detriments & in general I feel Id be a better than average partner for some, worse than average for some & for a very few Id be a much better choice than most others (& with a very select few Id be close to the mythical perfect match). But those that suffered from emotional abuse to any notable degree that I’ve kept in touch with (or heard about after I gave up trying to be in their world) have usually (but not always) ended up with someone who used them or who emotionally abused them.
This is caused by a few things. I’ve covered the lack of self worth leading to an unwillingness to trust that someone genuinely cares about them. Also the desire to avoid making decisions can cause the wrong choice to be made. That one can cut both ways; a guy who leaves the situation after becoming frustrated with the hurdles could be viewed as not really caring, or conversely a guy who sticks around & attempts to break through the barriers could be viewed as not being desirable since he obviously had no other prospects & must have serious issues of his own (or so the reasoning goes). There’s just no way to tell how the chips will fall as it will vary with each woman & her circumstances (as well as her basic attraction to the guy) so any guy who attempts to care about someone in such a state is rolling the dice more so than with someone who had not suffered emotional abuse.
There are varying degrees of emotional abuse. They range from someone casually & occasionally making derogatory remarks to yelling & screaming that seems on the verge of becoming physical. It can be overt belittlement of a partner or a more subtle attempt to manipulate their emotions via fear & insecurity. Baseless accusations of infidelity, claiming the woman is ungrateful for all that’s been done for her, making her feel as if she can do nothing correctly, that she should be lucky to be with someone because no one else would want her, being nice one minute then for no explanation becoming volatile, ignoring or disregarding her feelings or emotions, attempting to separate her from friends or family, making decisions for her, tying her value in the relationship to a specific role (sex partner, housekeeper, mother, etc) &/or objectifying her are some of the most common forms emotional abuse takes. & because each woman is a different person the effects of the abuse vary in both degree & symptom. I think the base damage is the same in all cases but its severity differs in each case. The very unfortunate women find themselves with multiple relationships (usually in a row) that they receive damage from.
So what can be done? As I said the friends, lovers, family & other bystanders can’t do much. Offering mental & emotional support is all we can do.
For the woman suffering from the effects she first & foremost has to recover her self esteem. But it has to be done in a way that’s not harmful to her. Becoming a stripper or prostitute or generally being promiscuous will make her feel wanted, but not in a healthy enough way for her to regain control of herself. (note: I don’t have any serious moral, ethical or pragmatic objections to prostitution, stripping or general promiscuity IF they are taken up under the correct circumstances.)
She has to accept that not only is she a person with value to herself, but with value to others as well. She has to recognize that she has qualities that make her desirable as a person not merely as an object or a servant of some sort. Perhaps the hardest part is for a woman in this state to see that despite her flaws she can be cared for very deeply by others & that she deserves to care about herself independently of others.
Taking control of her life is almost as important. Making decisions & accepting the consequences for them can be difficult but its necessary to regain control of her world. Accepting that mistakes or bad decisions do not validate the abuse can be hard especially at first, but again it’s something that’s vital to her recovery.
Learning to trust others & to discern between those who genuinely care & those who do not is another hurdle to overcome. It takes time & patience both on the part of the woman & those who care for her. Speaking from experience I can say its not easy at all, but its not impossible if the woman truly wants to be able to trust people again.
These are all just my thoughts based on my experiences. Take them with as much salt as you wish. Im not a psychologist or psychiatrist & truth be told I have little respect for those fields for a number of reasons. I'm no expert & I can only see these things from a male perspective. But I have been around the block a few dozen times & this is what I’ve concluded so far. If I seem to have anything wrong corrections are always welcome. I focused on emotional abuse suffered by women because in my experience it’s far more common than for men to suffer it, though men can be victims as well.
& the reason for this musing on the mental health of women who have had very bad relationships? A friend called the other day that had been through a few of them & we discussed the effects they had on her life. One of the things we spent the most time discussing was that it took her a long time to realize what she had been through & its effects on her therefore longer than it could have taken for her to get back on track. So maybe this will help you or someone you know.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Love Foolosophy
A Jamiroquai tune. Here's the vid. Cute, disco-y & not a bad dance track. But in it it contains a line that's deeper than the nature of the tune. The song itself is about - well see for yourself:
"Baby Baby, I feel these sweet sensations
Honey honey, looks like a superstar
She' got a promise of love-struck fascination
What am I to do? How am I to know?
Who you are
And this love, Fool, osophy is killing
Previous illusions that
I had in my mind about you
Seems so true, all the lies you're telling
Tragically compelling and
My love it means nothing to you
So maybe I'm still a love Fool
She shimmers like a California sunset
Lady lady, glitters but theres no gold
She carries sweetly infectious magic formulas
I'm so delirious, is she that serious?
Or is she bringing me on, I've been waiting so long
And this love, Fool, osophy is killing
Previous illusions that
I had in my mind about you
Seems so true, all the lies you're telling
Tragically compelling and
My love it means nothing to you
So maybe I'm still a love Fool
I don't want the world I want you
I don't want the world I want you
I don't want the world I want you"
Guy digs a girl but he's not sure how she's playing him. In fact he's leaning towards the idea that she is just playing him. But he still can't break away from her. Why?
All men are suckers from time to time. & all women are suckers from time to time. It's something we cannot help. We want to hope for an outcome that we find acceptable so much that sometimes we're blinded to the reality of the situation. Or sometimes we even see the situation for what it is but don't act on that in the hopes that it will change to our favor.
Consequently we all play someone at some point in our lives, often without realizing we're doing it. I've done it without meaning to & I'm sure anyone who reads this has as well.
Partly this is because of not being able to truly understand the opposite sex. It's just difficult for men to convey certain things to women as the men mean them & vice versa.
Which is why it may not be obvious as to what the line I was talking about earlier is or why it's so meaningful.
"I don't want the world I want you"
When I first heard the song I was just digging the groove, then that line came up & I stopped. I'd felt that way before & would afterwards feel that way again.
Men are ambitious, both by nature & upbringing. Every guy has aspirations of being the next Alexander the Great. Conquering the world & expanding his influence. The mildest most timid geeky nerdy 90 pound paper pusher has that same ambition even if only in passing.
I have it my damn self. I just suppress the hell out of it as most men do. But there's not much internal doubt that I can do anything that's possible for a human to do if I applied myself. But then we get into "can" & "should" which is a little off base for where I'm going with this but it explains why I suppress the urge to invade Europe & Asia on an off weekend.
When a man loves a woman so deeply that he'd forsake his natural inclination towards world dominance - it'd be almost comparable to a woman saying she loves a man more than chocolate, or shoes, or massages.
I don't think most women understand what it means to a man to feel that way, just like we wouldn't grasp the meaning of a woman caring more about us than say chocolate or shoes or massages.
That kind of caring makes men very easy marks for a woman who's looking to use him or just being negligent with her affections. & the kicker? Men don't care. When we feel that deeply it doesn't matter if we're played or not. As long as we can cling to the slightest bit of hope that it'll work out we're cool. Well take a lot of abuse & suffer quietly for months or even years if we think it'll get us closer to our goal. Eventually a line will be crossed & it's different for each guy but from the outside we seem like fools for enduring things under those circumstances.
But it is the way it is. We can't alter that about ourselves. & most people see it (from the outside) as a weakness. & it is, in the same way that caring about someone is a weakness. Its not an easy thing to go through something like that, let alone risk going through it again. Or maybe its just a lack of good sense. I'm still not sure about that. But you shouldn’t ever think a guy is weak because he feels that way. He may be weak but it wouldn’t be because of or indicated by that.
There is someone I could feel that way about but I’ll hold back as long as I can before I take that plunge again (especially cause things don't seem to be going well) or at least before I admit to myself that I've taken the plunge (cause likely I have already despite the circumstances). But this post is about the feeling in general, as I don't think most women really understand that kind of caring coming from a man. Course there are tons of things than men don't get about women, but odds are I'd get it wrong if I started to explore that side of the coin.
As an aside I also really dug the imagery from the first half of the second verse
"She shimmers like a California sunset
Lady lady glitters but there's no gold"
But that's another topic
"Baby Baby, I feel these sweet sensations
Honey honey, looks like a superstar
She' got a promise of love-struck fascination
What am I to do? How am I to know?
Who you are
And this love, Fool, osophy is killing
Previous illusions that
I had in my mind about you
Seems so true, all the lies you're telling
Tragically compelling and
My love it means nothing to you
So maybe I'm still a love Fool
She shimmers like a California sunset
Lady lady, glitters but theres no gold
She carries sweetly infectious magic formulas
I'm so delirious, is she that serious?
Or is she bringing me on, I've been waiting so long
And this love, Fool, osophy is killing
Previous illusions that
I had in my mind about you
Seems so true, all the lies you're telling
Tragically compelling and
My love it means nothing to you
So maybe I'm still a love Fool
I don't want the world I want you
I don't want the world I want you
I don't want the world I want you"
Guy digs a girl but he's not sure how she's playing him. In fact he's leaning towards the idea that she is just playing him. But he still can't break away from her. Why?
All men are suckers from time to time. & all women are suckers from time to time. It's something we cannot help. We want to hope for an outcome that we find acceptable so much that sometimes we're blinded to the reality of the situation. Or sometimes we even see the situation for what it is but don't act on that in the hopes that it will change to our favor.
Consequently we all play someone at some point in our lives, often without realizing we're doing it. I've done it without meaning to & I'm sure anyone who reads this has as well.
Partly this is because of not being able to truly understand the opposite sex. It's just difficult for men to convey certain things to women as the men mean them & vice versa.
Which is why it may not be obvious as to what the line I was talking about earlier is or why it's so meaningful.
"I don't want the world I want you"
When I first heard the song I was just digging the groove, then that line came up & I stopped. I'd felt that way before & would afterwards feel that way again.
Men are ambitious, both by nature & upbringing. Every guy has aspirations of being the next Alexander the Great. Conquering the world & expanding his influence. The mildest most timid geeky nerdy 90 pound paper pusher has that same ambition even if only in passing.
I have it my damn self. I just suppress the hell out of it as most men do. But there's not much internal doubt that I can do anything that's possible for a human to do if I applied myself. But then we get into "can" & "should" which is a little off base for where I'm going with this but it explains why I suppress the urge to invade Europe & Asia on an off weekend.
When a man loves a woman so deeply that he'd forsake his natural inclination towards world dominance - it'd be almost comparable to a woman saying she loves a man more than chocolate, or shoes, or massages.
I don't think most women understand what it means to a man to feel that way, just like we wouldn't grasp the meaning of a woman caring more about us than say chocolate or shoes or massages.
That kind of caring makes men very easy marks for a woman who's looking to use him or just being negligent with her affections. & the kicker? Men don't care. When we feel that deeply it doesn't matter if we're played or not. As long as we can cling to the slightest bit of hope that it'll work out we're cool. Well take a lot of abuse & suffer quietly for months or even years if we think it'll get us closer to our goal. Eventually a line will be crossed & it's different for each guy but from the outside we seem like fools for enduring things under those circumstances.
But it is the way it is. We can't alter that about ourselves. & most people see it (from the outside) as a weakness. & it is, in the same way that caring about someone is a weakness. Its not an easy thing to go through something like that, let alone risk going through it again. Or maybe its just a lack of good sense. I'm still not sure about that. But you shouldn’t ever think a guy is weak because he feels that way. He may be weak but it wouldn’t be because of or indicated by that.
There is someone I could feel that way about but I’ll hold back as long as I can before I take that plunge again (especially cause things don't seem to be going well) or at least before I admit to myself that I've taken the plunge (cause likely I have already despite the circumstances). But this post is about the feeling in general, as I don't think most women really understand that kind of caring coming from a man. Course there are tons of things than men don't get about women, but odds are I'd get it wrong if I started to explore that side of the coin.
As an aside I also really dug the imagery from the first half of the second verse
"She shimmers like a California sunset
Lady lady glitters but there's no gold"
But that's another topic
Friday, September 22, 2006
Night Life
Old blues standard. B.B. King did it as a nice duet with Willie Nelson. The main line is "The night life ain't no good life but it's my life". Here's willie doing it in 1967. Here's Willie & Clapton doing the tune. & Lawd have mercy here's Aretha killin' it.
The music biz was never really good to me. For about 15 years (minus a 3 year hiatus due to furthering my education) I primarily made my living by playing music. The term "made my living" is to be taken in the loosest sense of the word. I've had some really cool gigs & some really lucrative ones (though seldom were the cool ones lucrative) & I've had a lot of time in between gigs.
Being in a houseband is the worst. It's steady while it lasts & you don't have to tear down your equipment every night but when it's over it's over. The circles I traveled in usually booked 4 to 6 weeks in advance. House gigs were lost with no notice. The club owner/manager/lizard would just walk up to you the last night of the week you played & tell you not to come back. So that meant that you were effectively out of work for a month to a month & a half. That did nothing to hurt the musical professions' reputation as the world's most effective diet.
I haven't gigged much since I've been in Colorado. A few circumstances beyond my control contributed to it but mainly it's been for my own reasons. The short version is that I've had some offers in the last year or so but the money has not been right, even for musicians. Still I could swallow my professional pride & take some low paying gigs here & there, I just haven't reached that point yet.
The odd part is that not playing bothers me greatly but I don't miss the business at all. A good 60% or more of my time was spent looking for gigs. Whatever field you're in imagine having to apply for your job or one like it once or twice a week. Sometimes it wasn't that difficult, other times it was like pulling teeth out of a disgruntled badger. In addition to the "looking for work" factor there are two other aspects of the biz that can be less than pleasant - club/bar owners/agents & musicians. Dealing with bar owners was always "interesting".
The way it's supposed to work is a band's job is to keep the crowd in the bar & keep them drinking. They do this through playing songs the majority of the crowd likes & preferably songs geared towards encouraging the guys to hit on the ladies, which usually involves the buying of several drinks - one for the lady & several for the guy to work up his courage.
Bar/club owners though sometimes get the idea that a band is supposed to bring a crowd in with them. & this sometimes happens if the band is popular enough. But it's the bar trying to leech free advertising off the band with no commiserate increase in pay. There have been many an argument over this topic & usually as the bar/club owner tries to cut down the cash that was promised. Once the negotiations got so lively that I threatened to have the band take part of the bar home with them - not the liquor bottles - I meant part of the bar itself. Things worked out for the bets that time. Besides I had no room in my place for a 3 foot section of oak bar.
Musicians are the other downside. I had this one gig that started off nice. It was a 3 piece - drummer, bass player that sang his ass off & me on guitar. The bass player/singer had a drinking problem. A serious one. He couldn't chill with just one or two. To make things worse he wasn't a nice drunk. he got through the gig alright but by the time I ended up at another bar where I used to hang out he had followed me & started raising hell. I'm still not sure what his issues were - he mentioned something about I didn't care about him & was just using him. I assumed he was having problems at home & just figured the same arguments were applicable. In any case he threatened not to show for the next gig which was about 14 hours away at that point. I forget exactly what i did - I know kissing his ass to some degree was involved, trying to placate him with little or no effect. He stormed out swearing he'd never work with me again. so I stayed around for a bit, had the bartender give me hell about the bass player/singer & I being married ( which kinda clued me in that I'd have struck out with her) then went home sweating who the hell I could find on short notice to sing & play bass. I woke up the next afternoon to the phone - it was the bass player/singer & he apologized for his behavior the night before as told me he'd be there & sober. He showed up & the gig went smooth but damn if I wasn't more stressed than a very stressed out person in an ironic situation. (hey - I do this for free - you come up with some colloquialisms).
That experience wasn't typical but it wasn't uncommon either. Showing up late or not showing at all were the usual problems & luckily in my circles that happened kinda rarely as you'd get a reputation for not being hirable if it occurred too much. But still it was often enough that it made running a band "interesting".
The last few years I was in the biz I was mainly a hired gun. A band would call me up on a Friday afternoon & hire me for that night & maybe the next cause their guitar player was sick/fired/stranded out of town/in the middle of a tantrum. A lot of the times I'd meet the band a few minutes before we started playing. & I learned a lot of songs while playing them for the first time. Hell sometimes I played them better before I learned them.
In any case to supplement the work for hire I was doing I put together a few bands. I'd run bands de facto on & off for years so it wasn't anything that new or exciting. Nerve racking yes, exciting - not so much.
A few of them were real nice. I was good friends with the lady who ran this on bar down in Surfside, SC & she'd always call me when she had a space in her calendar - usually the call would come a day before the space came up.
The two projects I remember fondly were centered around tow respective singers - one a very sweet little lady & the other a young guy. Both were over 21 but just barely. The guy had a warm friendly tone to his voice that made him easy to listen to. He also had a bit of soul which made things better all the way around. We actually pulled off some Isaac Hayes tune from Southpark with him - Spontaneous it was called.
The young girl - when I first met her it was during an open jam. she came up to the stage & I saw this kinda short petite girl who had long blonde hair & couldn't have been old enough to watch most movies in the theaters. But she was 22 & thus broke no laws. I started going through all the new-ish pop tunes at the time & figured she'd want to do some Cranberry's or something.. She asked if I knew "Bring it on home to me" & I responded "you mean the Sam Cooke song?" she said yes & we went into it. & she killed it. 5'2" with a voice like she was taller than me. She had range, power, control & most importantly taste. She actually reminded me of Etta James a bit when she got all bluesy. She sang her cute little as off & I was in love - not with the girl even though she was very pretty - but with her voice.
So I used her whenever I could. For gigs that is. As in playing music.
The rhythm section usually consisted of this incredible bass player & a really decent drummer that could sing Stevie Wonder tunes. With them behind either the girl or the guy it was too much fun to describe. with the guy we were doing everything form the Southpark tune to some Red Hot Chili Peppers to some of the newer pop stuff to interesting pseudo Dave Mathews style covers. With the girl - Aretha to Sheryl Crow to blues & jazz standards.
The bar was a biker type joint on the first block from the ocean. Rough crowd & they got out of control pretty quick. But the girl could floor them & handle them. I recall once we did this old jazz standard (I forget which one - maybe Autumn Leaves) but she had the crowd of bikers so captivated that they were all sitting quietly sipping their drinks & then they would politely clap at the end of each verse or solo by the bass player or myself just like they were in an actual jazz lounge.
So the biz had its moments to be sure but the downsides were never far away. Once at the same bar I had a nice little hour long chat with the club owner (not my friend who ran the place) about getting paid because the owner had double booked for one day that weekend & not told the lady who ran the place about it. It ended up with her paying what I owed the band & writing the night off as a loss for myself. It sucked but that's the price you pay for trying to be "Johnny B. Goode".
& I won't even go into the crowd. For the most part they were cool, but there's always be some drunk who irritated the hell out of you & all you could do was politely smile while hoping you weren't going to have to bounce him your damn self. Or the young affluent gent who started dancing with the girl you talked to all of last break & thought she really liked you. I've never caught a girlfriend of mine in the act of cheating but watching how one or two women I thought I was getting somewhere with dance with someone else I can fully understand the feeling. But those are other whin.. er I mean topics.
The point of all this rambling (like I ever have an actual point)? I miss the playing terribly but the biz itself isn't something I'm rushing to get back into. Eventually the desire to play will overcome my aversion to the bullshit that comes with it. I'm a guitar player - it's not something I can just let go. But for now I keep myself in check by sitting in with friends or at open jams.
So I'm not looking for work as hard as I could but that won't last much longer. The scene around here is pretty dismal (in no small part because of the smoking ban) but I might be able to eek something out of it. Or just look for a road band & travel a bit more before I get too old to enjoy it. (Actually I was never young enough to enjoy being on the road, but it's tolerable).
I'm waiting on a friend to get off her cute little ass & transfer some of my stuff from cassette tape (that's an archaic means of recording music, ya whippersnappers) to MP3. When she does that I'll try to post it on here.
But tonight I'm probably going to have a drink or twelve & reminisce about the good old days when the singers were talented & not throwing tantrums.
The music biz was never really good to me. For about 15 years (minus a 3 year hiatus due to furthering my education) I primarily made my living by playing music. The term "made my living" is to be taken in the loosest sense of the word. I've had some really cool gigs & some really lucrative ones (though seldom were the cool ones lucrative) & I've had a lot of time in between gigs.
Being in a houseband is the worst. It's steady while it lasts & you don't have to tear down your equipment every night but when it's over it's over. The circles I traveled in usually booked 4 to 6 weeks in advance. House gigs were lost with no notice. The club owner/manager/lizard would just walk up to you the last night of the week you played & tell you not to come back. So that meant that you were effectively out of work for a month to a month & a half. That did nothing to hurt the musical professions' reputation as the world's most effective diet.
I haven't gigged much since I've been in Colorado. A few circumstances beyond my control contributed to it but mainly it's been for my own reasons. The short version is that I've had some offers in the last year or so but the money has not been right, even for musicians. Still I could swallow my professional pride & take some low paying gigs here & there, I just haven't reached that point yet.
The odd part is that not playing bothers me greatly but I don't miss the business at all. A good 60% or more of my time was spent looking for gigs. Whatever field you're in imagine having to apply for your job or one like it once or twice a week. Sometimes it wasn't that difficult, other times it was like pulling teeth out of a disgruntled badger. In addition to the "looking for work" factor there are two other aspects of the biz that can be less than pleasant - club/bar owners/agents & musicians. Dealing with bar owners was always "interesting".
The way it's supposed to work is a band's job is to keep the crowd in the bar & keep them drinking. They do this through playing songs the majority of the crowd likes & preferably songs geared towards encouraging the guys to hit on the ladies, which usually involves the buying of several drinks - one for the lady & several for the guy to work up his courage.
Bar/club owners though sometimes get the idea that a band is supposed to bring a crowd in with them. & this sometimes happens if the band is popular enough. But it's the bar trying to leech free advertising off the band with no commiserate increase in pay. There have been many an argument over this topic & usually as the bar/club owner tries to cut down the cash that was promised. Once the negotiations got so lively that I threatened to have the band take part of the bar home with them - not the liquor bottles - I meant part of the bar itself. Things worked out for the bets that time. Besides I had no room in my place for a 3 foot section of oak bar.
Musicians are the other downside. I had this one gig that started off nice. It was a 3 piece - drummer, bass player that sang his ass off & me on guitar. The bass player/singer had a drinking problem. A serious one. He couldn't chill with just one or two. To make things worse he wasn't a nice drunk. he got through the gig alright but by the time I ended up at another bar where I used to hang out he had followed me & started raising hell. I'm still not sure what his issues were - he mentioned something about I didn't care about him & was just using him. I assumed he was having problems at home & just figured the same arguments were applicable. In any case he threatened not to show for the next gig which was about 14 hours away at that point. I forget exactly what i did - I know kissing his ass to some degree was involved, trying to placate him with little or no effect. He stormed out swearing he'd never work with me again. so I stayed around for a bit, had the bartender give me hell about the bass player/singer & I being married ( which kinda clued me in that I'd have struck out with her) then went home sweating who the hell I could find on short notice to sing & play bass. I woke up the next afternoon to the phone - it was the bass player/singer & he apologized for his behavior the night before as told me he'd be there & sober. He showed up & the gig went smooth but damn if I wasn't more stressed than a very stressed out person in an ironic situation. (hey - I do this for free - you come up with some colloquialisms).
That experience wasn't typical but it wasn't uncommon either. Showing up late or not showing at all were the usual problems & luckily in my circles that happened kinda rarely as you'd get a reputation for not being hirable if it occurred too much. But still it was often enough that it made running a band "interesting".
The last few years I was in the biz I was mainly a hired gun. A band would call me up on a Friday afternoon & hire me for that night & maybe the next cause their guitar player was sick/fired/stranded out of town/in the middle of a tantrum. A lot of the times I'd meet the band a few minutes before we started playing. & I learned a lot of songs while playing them for the first time. Hell sometimes I played them better before I learned them.
In any case to supplement the work for hire I was doing I put together a few bands. I'd run bands de facto on & off for years so it wasn't anything that new or exciting. Nerve racking yes, exciting - not so much.
A few of them were real nice. I was good friends with the lady who ran this on bar down in Surfside, SC & she'd always call me when she had a space in her calendar - usually the call would come a day before the space came up.
The two projects I remember fondly were centered around tow respective singers - one a very sweet little lady & the other a young guy. Both were over 21 but just barely. The guy had a warm friendly tone to his voice that made him easy to listen to. He also had a bit of soul which made things better all the way around. We actually pulled off some Isaac Hayes tune from Southpark with him - Spontaneous it was called.
The young girl - when I first met her it was during an open jam. she came up to the stage & I saw this kinda short petite girl who had long blonde hair & couldn't have been old enough to watch most movies in the theaters. But she was 22 & thus broke no laws. I started going through all the new-ish pop tunes at the time & figured she'd want to do some Cranberry's or something.. She asked if I knew "Bring it on home to me" & I responded "you mean the Sam Cooke song?" she said yes & we went into it. & she killed it. 5'2" with a voice like she was taller than me. She had range, power, control & most importantly taste. She actually reminded me of Etta James a bit when she got all bluesy. She sang her cute little as off & I was in love - not with the girl even though she was very pretty - but with her voice.
So I used her whenever I could. For gigs that is. As in playing music.
The rhythm section usually consisted of this incredible bass player & a really decent drummer that could sing Stevie Wonder tunes. With them behind either the girl or the guy it was too much fun to describe. with the guy we were doing everything form the Southpark tune to some Red Hot Chili Peppers to some of the newer pop stuff to interesting pseudo Dave Mathews style covers. With the girl - Aretha to Sheryl Crow to blues & jazz standards.
The bar was a biker type joint on the first block from the ocean. Rough crowd & they got out of control pretty quick. But the girl could floor them & handle them. I recall once we did this old jazz standard (I forget which one - maybe Autumn Leaves) but she had the crowd of bikers so captivated that they were all sitting quietly sipping their drinks & then they would politely clap at the end of each verse or solo by the bass player or myself just like they were in an actual jazz lounge.
So the biz had its moments to be sure but the downsides were never far away. Once at the same bar I had a nice little hour long chat with the club owner (not my friend who ran the place) about getting paid because the owner had double booked for one day that weekend & not told the lady who ran the place about it. It ended up with her paying what I owed the band & writing the night off as a loss for myself. It sucked but that's the price you pay for trying to be "Johnny B. Goode".
& I won't even go into the crowd. For the most part they were cool, but there's always be some drunk who irritated the hell out of you & all you could do was politely smile while hoping you weren't going to have to bounce him your damn self. Or the young affluent gent who started dancing with the girl you talked to all of last break & thought she really liked you. I've never caught a girlfriend of mine in the act of cheating but watching how one or two women I thought I was getting somewhere with dance with someone else I can fully understand the feeling. But those are other whin.. er I mean topics.
The point of all this rambling (like I ever have an actual point)? I miss the playing terribly but the biz itself isn't something I'm rushing to get back into. Eventually the desire to play will overcome my aversion to the bullshit that comes with it. I'm a guitar player - it's not something I can just let go. But for now I keep myself in check by sitting in with friends or at open jams.
So I'm not looking for work as hard as I could but that won't last much longer. The scene around here is pretty dismal (in no small part because of the smoking ban) but I might be able to eek something out of it. Or just look for a road band & travel a bit more before I get too old to enjoy it. (Actually I was never young enough to enjoy being on the road, but it's tolerable).
I'm waiting on a friend to get off her cute little ass & transfer some of my stuff from cassette tape (that's an archaic means of recording music, ya whippersnappers) to MP3. When she does that I'll try to post it on here.
But tonight I'm probably going to have a drink or twelve & reminisce about the good old days when the singers were talented & not throwing tantrums.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
FJHW Updated
(I first wrote this piece in late May of 2006. I sent it as an e-mail to some folks I thought would appreciate the telling of events. In this version I've added a paragrpah I had originally penned but then ommitted along with an explanation of why such ommission occured. It's marked with an aterisk at the beginning & is italicized. It appears close to 2/3rd's down the post. I've also added links to 2 songs I mentioned in the original. Some of the punctuation didn't translate from Word to this format so excuse the errors that I have not had the motivation to clean up as of yet)
Hey Michael.
Hey Frankie.
What brings you out here?
You know Colorado doesn’t have any good biscuits.
I know what that means.
Yeah.
(12 equals 100, 15 equals 200, 18 equals 300, 22 equals 400, 26 equals 500, 31 equals 600, 36 equals 700, 42 equals 800, 50 equals 900, 58 equals 1,000)
That’s my mother. I hadn’t seen her since January & they’d just wheeled her in from radiation. That was on May 12th around 10 a.m. EST. If it wasn’t for the family being in the room & the sound of her voice I wouldn’t have recognized her. The numbers Ill explain later.
But that was the way we’d talk. I’d be a smart ass & shed ignore it & go on with what she thought I was trying to conceal with my answer. Her son, her eldest child showing up meant that things were bad. She was right; I wouldn’t have made the drive if it were just a weekend stay in the hospital. But I always called her Frankie. It was never mom or mother or momma; just Frankie. Well unless I was trying to stress something then it was Frankie Jean. Both I acquired from her father. & to be fair I called all my other relatives by their names instead of their titles with the sole exception of my father’s mother. No idea why, that’s just how it was.
Frankie had cancer. In 2001 they took her breast & gave her poisons in controlled doses coupled with radiation & thought they had it licked. She had went back to work & went back to school to learn Spanish so she wouldn’t need an interpreter on her next mission trip to the Dominican Republic. In 2005 it had come back. Liver, lung & brain were the homes of new tumors, so she went back to the chemo & radiation. There were complications this time around though. In May of 05 her colon ruptured. They had to do emergency surgery (like there’s recreational surgery to contrast it with) & installed a colonoscopy bag. It was supposed to be temporary but turned permanent.
In May of 05 my ex-g/f & I went to see her. I hadn’t been back to Charlotte since December of 01, which was un-coincidentally with the same girl who was then not yet my ex. It was supposed to be a surprise but I think my stepfather ratted us out. We went out to various fish camps & such (Colorado being landlocked I missed flounder & hushpuppies something fierce) & all in all had a good visit. We even stayed at Frankie’s house which I was reluctant to do.
I had traveled to Pensacola Florida in February of 93 to see Frankie. It was a surprise visit; I don’t think I talked to anyone in the family since Jean (Frankie’s mom) died the November before. I was fairly young & not sure what I was doing at all. When I got to their house Danny asked what brought me to Pensacola. I replied an Oldsmobile & at that he became a little agitated & told me I could stay the night but in the morning Id have to leave. Frankie didn’t say much then but I knew she told him later on that if I wanted to stay I could. I didn’t I spent the day with her & left that evening for New Orleans but that’s another tale.
So if it weren’t for having my ex with me & not wanting to hurt Frankie’s feelings I would have stayed elsewhere. & all in all it went okay. My ex & Frankie got along well. Not just the polite southern way of getting along but they seemed to genuinely like each other. My ex’s mom had a few things in common with Frankie & I always thought one of the shames of our break up was that they’d never get to meet & discuss the Home Shopping Network addiction they both shared.
I went back in January of 06 for a few days. I had planned this trip for a few months & at the last minute had to do some shucking & jiving with the arrangements. Danny had once again clued Frankie in to my arrival & she didn’t want me to come. Not that she hated me or anything but she was pretty weak or weaker than she had been & didn’t want to worry about me driving halfway across the country.
Some more background:
In the fall of 05 new tumors had cropped up. One was in her hip & another in her right eye. Radiation got rid of the one in her hip & some kind of laser surgery got the one in her eye but it left her with failing vision. To add to her burden her lungs started acting funny. She spent the week before Christmas in the hospital & when she came home she had oxygen tanks.
They thought it was pulmonary fibrosis that was cutting her breath short. Oxygen & new meds were the prescription. The problem was that the new meds precluded chemo & radiation so while they were trying to fix her lungs the cancer started growing again.
She was up & around shortly, but had to deal with the colonoscopy bag & oxygen tanks. Frankie was always very mobile & it made her sad that she couldn’t go down to Charleston, S.C. with my ex & me when we visited the year before (but she rented us two nights in the hotel she knew I usually stayed at when Id play down there) so the further limitations on her mobility were aggravating.
That inability to get out coupled with her worrying about me driving across country was why she didn’t want me to come out there. She had offered numerous times to buy my plane ticket but I won’t fly.
I’m a gun nut. Worse, I’m a politically aware gun nut. I run a website that deals with political & legal issues about firearms & to put it mildly I have very strong opinions on the current state of gun control in the country. Any talk of September the 11th of 2001 usually results in me mentioning that it was the day when 19 punks with boxcutters beat the u.S. in an arms race. I feel positively naked if I’m more than a short walk from a rifle or a short jump from my pistols, so the idea of letting some jerk that makes a little over minimum wage take away my pocket knife just to fly on a commercial plane is a bit much for me to bear. Despite being unconstitutional it’s pragmatically disastrous as evidenced by anyone who watches United 93 & recalls when the passengers were scrounging for weapons.
So I drive cross country to go back home. Frankie never really understood this or at least didn’t agree with it but she was used to my being stubborn. The last Christmas card she sent me said as much (a real tear jerker she wrote while still in the hospital). It’s a trait we inherited (learned rather) from her father. It’s complex, perhaps too complex to be told here but I was raised by her parents so in a lot of ways she was more like a really close aunt or older sister than a mother. Not that it mattered or affected our relationship adversely. Wed argue like parents & kids do about the direction of the kid’s life & she’d worry about me the way that parents worry about their kids who don’t do things exactly the way they would.
So on that trip I took a longer than anticipated route & ended up spending 4 days in Charlotte rather than the week or so I was planning on.
The first night I was in town she was tired out from a doctor’s visit. The next day she, Lisa (my sister) & I went shopping then out to dinner that night. She had her oxygen bottles with her & used one up completely as she showed me the new mall a bit north of where she lived. She obviously forgot that I hated shopping just as much as when I was 4 & would throw a tantrum on the floor of whatever store we were in (followed of course by her popping me on the backside for acting up in public) . But she was enjoying herself so I didn’t remind her.
She was visibly pissed when I left town, as evidenced by her telling me off (which she hadn’t done in a year or two to that degree) & in between lectures on how I could live my life better she said she wished I would come when she was capable of doing more. To be clear the mall trip tired me out & I’m used to breathing much thinner air! But that was how she was. She liked to go do things.
She was also adamantly optimistic. She really believed that in a few months they’d get her lungs straightened out & the cancer would be under control & shed be able to do more. In early May of 06 she had told me that they (her & Danny) were thinking of riding down to Charleston in a few weeks.
After I left her breathing remained about the same, but the meds she had been taking had cut back on her immune system & the cancer was growing again. Not just growing but spreading.
I got a call in March from Maria (Frankie’s sister) that she was in the hospital again & that Id better come if I wanted to see her alive. Turned out to be a false alarm (as far as her demise was concerned) but the cancer & her lungs were wearing her down. Shed lost vision in her right eye because the tumor they had lasered was growing again & her left eye was good on some days worse on others. That was a real shame because she liked to read (which is another habit we shared).
She took comfort in being in a hospital. I think she thought that the nurses & doctors were right there & could keep her safe. She also liked chemo. Not the side effects to be sure, but she hated to go without it cause she was scared the cancer would come back on her if she went too long.
But they let her out after about a week. I believe it was the week after that Danny took her driving up to Boone & she got to see some snowfall.
Frankie loved Pensacola Florida. Gulfbreeze actually, which was where she lived from the time I was 16 to the time I was 29. She missed it & would have moved back on a moments notice, but Danny wanted to be closer to his aging mother & she knew she needed to be close to Maria & Lisa. But she also really liked snow. Not cold weather per se, but snow. Id call her every time it snowed out here (which was a lot) & shed get all excited about it. She was also a weather channel addict & shed tune in just to see glimpses of the snow here in Denver. So it was really cool that she was in Boone when it snowed.
Danny is an ass, but not the malevolent sort of ass, more the ass that results from negligence or ignorance. I never cared for him much but I got along with him alright mainly because Frankie liked him & he was decent to her. He loved her. I assume she loved him. So I tried not to let my old grudges come up.
On May 4th she went into the hospital again. This time she was complaining of back pain. They found 3 tumors in her back along her spine. They started giving her morphine.
The family called me again & told me to come out there. Not just one or two members but Lisa, Johnny (mine & Lisa’s father) Carrie (Maria’s daughter; my cousin) & finally Danny.
A little about Johnny:
Frankie married him when she was 18. Later that year they had me. They had separated & tried to work things out when I was 2 months old (leaving me with Frankie’s parents who would end up raising me). In May of 73 Lisa was born. A few years later they divorced. The reasons are more or less family business & I wont mention them here but needless to say they didn’t get along well. At one point Johnny fought unsuccessfully for custody of Lisa & paid child support on both of use till we were 18 respectively. Johnny & I always got along as did Johnny & Lisa. Even Frankie’s parents liked him. Sometimes things between men & women just don’t work out though.
In '91 Johnny lost his mother to cancer. He didn’t sleep for days while she was on her deathbed & run himself ragged trying to do whatever he could for her. Watching her die of cancer was hard on him, perhaps harder than he’d admit.
My aunt told me of several times when Johnny would call or see her & ask about Frankie. He’d get visibly upset when the reports were looking grim. He told me a few times that even though they didn’t get along he’d never wish that (cancer) on her.
So when he called to tell me to drop everything & get out there I knew it wasn’t going to be a false alarm.
I cannot just drop everything & leave town. Reasons both economic & pragmatic preclude that. Id made up my mind to go see her but it took a few days to get on the road. Aside from scraping together the cash for the trip (I was just recovering from the last one) I had some mechanical issues with the car that needed to be addressed. So when Danny called me on Wednesday the 10th to tell me that Frankie didn’t have much time I was already packing the car & about to take off. When Lisa & Carrie called again & cussed me out for not coming I was almost to the Kansas border.
I didn’t tell anyone I was coming because I was making the trip with a leaking radiator & a cylinder that either wasn’t working at all or only partially working. That left 3 cylinders in an 87 Honda with 243,000 miles on it. I didn’t want them to tell Frankie I was coming & end up broken down someplace in Oklahoma. & they would have told her. More specifically if Danny would have heard they’d have told her & they’d have told Danny. I didn’t see any point in getting her hopes up or having her worry about me on the trip. Besides, I fully expected to get a call when I was in Tennessee or Oklahoma telling me shed passed. No need in making them feel bad for me that I didn’t make it despite trying.
I made the trip in 2 days instead of the usual 3. 15 hours on the first leg & 13 on the second. I would have tried it in one but halfway through Oklahoma I had a problem with one of my contacts & had to stop for the night to straighten it out. The whole trip I kept hearing this old Skynyrd tune in my head. Its called Was I Right Or Wrong? & if you listen to it you’ll understand why (here's a vid but the sound isn't great). Well it alternated between that & this Vince Gill tune called Go Rest High On That Mountain (here's the vid - I still get a litle weepy when the harmonies kick in).
I told my sister I was on the way on the 2nd day & why she couldn’t tell anyone so I think she kept things quiet. I got to her house in Denver N.C. around 1 a.m. EST on Friday morning. After 3 hours of sleep (I had 5.5 the night before in a hotel in Russellville, Arkansas) we were on our way to the hospital.
When we got there she had just been taking down to radiation. At that point they didn’t think they could get rid of the cancer, but shrinking the tumors might ease her pain. She had 5 treatments over 4 days & it seemed to help for a while.
An hour later they wheeled her bed back in the room & we had the exchange that opened this tale.
Everybody was kind of hushed when she said that she knew what my visit meant, & somehow got even quieter when I confirmed it with a yeah. When I was 18 I told Frank (Frankie’s father) that the doc said he had a few hours to live. The family wouldn’t do it. Ditto with Jean (Frankie’s mother) although the circumstances were slightly different. So they were worried that Id tell her things they didn’t think she should be bothered with. & I did.
They cleared out & Frankie & I talked for a while.
Who called you to come out here?
Everybody. Lisa, Maria, Johnny even Carrie called & cussed me out cause she didn’t think I was coming
What’d they say? Did they tell you how much time I’ve got?
(12 equals 100, 15 equals 200, etc)
No; no ones said anything about time, just to get out here quick. They wouldn’t tell me anyway they’d be scared I'd tell you. When Frank died they said he had a few hours left. No one would tell him so I went in & told him what the docs had said. He just looked at me & said Is that right? & lived about 15 16 hours longer than they thought, just to piss them off.
She smiled a little at that.
Where’d everyone else go?
I ‘spose they’re outside so we can talk. They think were mad at each other.
Why would they think that?
Cause of the way we argue all the time I guess.
hmmmm
I do love you Frankie
I love you too Michael
(18 gets me 300, 31 is 600)
That was the first time I can recall her telling me she loved me. That was just the way we were not overly emotional with each other.
Lisa came in at some point. After a few minutes I left so they could talk. Had to have a smoke anyway. Turns out there were designated smoking areas other than just being outside. If it seems irreverent that Id smoke while my mother is dying of cancer I smoked before she had it & Ill smoke after. My family is et up with cancer. I’ve lost a great aunt, grandmother, uncle & now mother to it. If I live long enough Ill have it. Smoking has nothing to do with it. Cancer is genetic. Certain things such as smoking can accelerate it (or appear to) in some people but it doesn’t cause it. Frankie never smoked. She hardly ever drank & you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who’s ever heard her cuss. But she had cancer.
They had all told me I wouldn’t recognize her. I didn’t really believe them till I saw her.
Frankie was always small. As Grady (a bass player I used to work with, & a good friend) said about Frankie & Maria they’re petite little ladies. She might have been 120 before the cancer but Id guess closer to 110 or 115. Over the past year her face had been a bit puffy cause of the steroids she was on. & she was very concerned about her appearance. No one but Danny had ever seen her without her wig until this hospital stay, & even then she had a little blue baseball cap shed wear. She was very upset when she lost her hair the first time & had a panic attack when they told her last year that shed lose it again. Southern women aren’t the only ones who would react that way, but I think it hits them harder than say women from Colorado or New York.
Her face was swollen. Not in the bee sting sort of way but in the take off the mask to see Anakin Skywalker sort of way. Her hair was maybe an inch & a half long & grayish more than the brown her hair had been before the cancer. It wasn’t growing as far forward on her scalp as I thought it should either. If I’d have seen her I wouldn’t have realized it was her, just that the poor woman had a nose similar to Frankie’s.
That wasn’t the worst of it though. Her voice was shaky as were her hands. They’d give her Coke or Pepsi in these little Styrofoam cups that maybe held 3 or 4 ounces. I have shot glasses bigger than those. Shed take the cup in her little trembling hands & it’d take her a second to find her mouth with the straw. Shed take a sip or two then hold the cup away from her face & tell someone (usually Danny) to take it from her. She couldn’t sit up (or move herself at all really) so wed have to raise the back of the bed for her to drink. It was pitiful. The first time I saw her drink like that I thought that my ex would break out into tears as she saw it. The last time I saw her drink like that I thought my ex would still be breaking out in tears as she saw it. My ex really did like Frankie & to see her like that would have torn her up. I know it tore me up. That’s where the numbers come in.
12 clicks of the sight on my Garand will get me on target at 100 yards. 15 will make that 200 yards, 18 gets me 300 & so on. From the 100 yard setting its 3 clicks to 200, then 3 to 300, then 4 to 400, 4 to 500, 5 to 600, 5 to 700, 6 to 800, 8 to 900 & 8 more to 1,000 yards. Frankie hadn’t seen me cry since I was 15 or so. She saw me come close in January but close isn’t the same as actually crying. Damned if I was gonna scare her by letting her see her son weeping over her bed. So I would think of the sight adjustments for my rifle. Could have been anything really any simple math just complex enough to distract but not so simple as to not require thought. That helped me maintain my composure. If I were a mechanic I might have thought about compression ratios for my favorite car. I’m a gun nut so I thought about sight adjustments.
I had found a few spots to smoke one close & the other more open. So Id hang out in the room with Frankie except when I went to smoke. At some point I realized that wed been there all day, not just the few hours I thought we would. So I figured I needed to figure out what I was doing.
Frankie, I can go back to Lisa’s & get some sleep or I can stay here if you want me to
Whatever you want to do Michael
No its whatever you want.
Well what do you want to do?
I can go back to Lisa’s if you want or I can stay here. I don’t have any plans. I’ll do whatever you’d like. Do you want me to stay up here with you?
That’d be good
(12 gets me to 100, 17 would be 266.6 yards, then 23 would be)
So it was settled. Lisa took that as a command to stay as well. I wish she hadn’t. Watching someone die isn’t easy. But I didn’t try too hard to convince her to go home.
Johnny called & came by to see me & Lisa at one of the designated smoking sections. He said he didn’t want to see Frankie but he’d like to talk with Danny & Maria. I told him how he wouldn’t recognize her & he started crying which came close to setting me & Lisa off. (12 equals 100, 15 gets me to 200, etc)
He went & talked with Maria & Steve & spoke with Danny for a few minutes. Maria & Steve were in the family waiting area & Danny was in the room. He didn’t leave much. He may have been an ass but he did care about her.
Maria asked me to stay with Frankie while they went & got something to eat in the cafeteria so I told Johnny bye & went back into the room. Frankie & I talked a little bit. I remember telling her that it snowed in Denver the night before I left just a little but enough to see coming down.
I spent most of the night awake. Well all of it really. I tend to be nocturnal anyway & figured Id take the night watch. Danny, Maria, Lisa, & Robin (Danny’s sister) were staying as well but they were trying to get some sleep. Frankie slept most of the night too. Morphine does that to ya. But every now & then shed open her eyes & Id bug her about doing anything for her getting her a drink, adjusting her bed, etc
Danny was constantly bugging her; asking her the same thing over & over again. Usually he was trying to get her to eat. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. Morphine coupled with fluid in the abdomen & around the lungs will do that.
The fluid had started building up days before. Her belly looked swollen, almost like she was pregnant. Again this is on a woman who normally wasn’t over 120 pounds if she ever weighed that much. They also found more tumors. First they said five then ten then that her whole spine was eat up with cancer. The tumor in her eye was back, the one in her lung was growing as was the one in her liver. They never mentioned the ones in her brain.
I slept a few hours Saturday morning. Nothing fancy, just pillows & a chair. Luckily all those years on the road playing in bands taught me how to sleep even when it was less than comfortable. I heard Maria talking to me when she thought I was waking up:
The doctor said that Frankie’s lungs will get worse in the next 48 hours
What’d Frankie say?
We ain’t gonna tell her that!
If it’s about her she needs to know
Michael that’d scare her to death
We shouldn’t lie to her
I drifted back off to sleep.
Saturday was a good day for her, considering. The radiation had killed some of the pain. I don’t think she had any morphine at all that day. She was alert & talked a bit. Our cousin Doris came by. Doris was Frankie’s fathers niece & she & Frankie were real close even though Doris was a bit older.
I didn’t talk too much to the family while I was there. I shot the breeze with Steve (Maria’s husband) for a bit & I chatted with Lisa & her g/f Pam when we were out smoking but mainly it was just saying hey to folks I hadn’t seen in a while & talking about what we could do for Frankie. I do recall telling Maria I wouldn’t stay for the funeral; that I had to get back as soon as I could. She said she understood & was just glad I was there now & I told her I just wanted her to know cause I knew how they were about funerals & such.
Things are a bit fuzzy. I recall some conversations but I’m not entirely sure when they happened. Like telling Frankie to try to drink as much as she can so her mouth wouldn’t get dry. I went on to remind her that Frank said that when he was little the old folks always told him to drink a Coca-cola when he was feeling down. Course that was when they used the whole cocoa leaf. She smiled a little at that. I also remember telling her to not let Danny & me & everyone else bug her too much, but every now & then let us do something for her to make us feel like were doing something for her cause it’ll keep us from feeling totally useless.
I remember at some point she had me get her some coke & I helped her drink it (raised the back of the bed, put the cup in her little trembling hands, watched her as she tried to find her lips with the straw, took it from her when she had enough). My ex would have been crying. I would have too. (12 gets me 100 yards, 27 gets me 525, etc)
I thought about & am talking about my ex a lot because of well I’m not sure why. She got along well with Frankie & well we were close for a while. The dynamic of our relationship was probably strange, especially after we broke up. She had two cats & one of them got sick. Cancer. Fluid around the lungs. I helped her take care of the cat after I moved out. Hell, I spent more time with the cats then I did with her (she was a student, incredibly busy & traveled a lot. I even joked to some degree that I was never her b/f just her cat sitter) so I did it for the cat as much as for her. But I always tried to take care of her in some way. I cared for her that much & at some point when she saw me tending to the cat she said she thought Id make a good husband & a good father. Shame I didn’t make a better b/f but such is life. & maybe it’s that she liked seeing my protective side that made me think so much of her when I was with Frankie that last week cause since Frank & Jean passed I really hadn’t used it to any great extent except with her.
*I also thought of another ex but didn’t mention it when I originally penned this piece. She was an ex-lover, not a g/f, but the distinguishment is only technical. I felt as much caring from her as I have from anyone, possibly more so. But at the time I wrote this she had moved on to something else & I had kept quiet about how I cared for her. We were still friends & I didn’t wish to disturb that – she seemed happy. But I thought of her often & almost called her a time or too. Her voice always gave me comfort though I doubt she realized it. Besides, I didn’t want to risk breaking down in front of anyone, especially her. So I didn’t make too many calls even though maybe I should have. She was a nursing student & whenever she came across an article about some new treatment for cancer she’d send it to me. I never found anything that could help Frankie but the fact that she took the time & effort & had the thought to send them really touched me. & made me kick myself a little harder than usual for letting her drift away.
Saturday I borrowed Lisa’s car to go get mine from her house. I went by Bojangles (which due to its absence out here I regard as a delicacy) & grabbed a quick shower. My car is my life. I have my cigarettes in there, my phone charger, cds, rifles, guitar, etc & being away from it was nagging on me. I should have grabbed some sleep but I didn’t want to be gone too long & it was a 45 minute drive to the hospital.
I stayed up with Frankie again. She was sleeping but a bit more restlessly. Her leg would twitch every now & then. Shed wake up & we talk briefly before she drifted off again. This time it was Danny, Maria, Robin, Elsie (Danny’s mother), Lisa & me in the room with her.
Danny had a brother named Ray who died from cancer about 15 years ago. That’s partially why his family was staying up there with him; the other part is that they just always seemed nice. Elsie always grated me for some reason (& I think Frankie as well shed usually stay at home on thanksgiving & such instead of going over there) but she was always real nice.
Wes, the preacher at Frankie & Maria’s church was up there constantly. He’d go home at night but he’d stay up there for hours every day. Elizabeth was up there a lot as well. She was a good friend of Frankie’s. In fact she sang at Frank & Jeans respective funerals. I never could stand her singing way too much vibrato; reminded me of a lady singing with a tummy exercising belt strapped around her turned on high; always implied the note, never directly hitting it on purpose unless it was a really short one syllable word she came across but Frankie & Maria liked it so I did a good bit of tongue biting when she was around. At some point she started singing spontaneously in the room. I left very quickly. I figured they just thought I was getting emotional but it was to remove the temptation to tell her that I’ve heard two cats in heat who never really liked each other to begin with sound more melodic than she does.
Anyway I kept asking Frankie if she was in pain & she kept saying no. She probably was but didn’t want to let on. In any event she didn’t have any morphine till the next day.
I grabbed my sleeping bag from my car & spread it out on the floor by the window. Sunday morning I got 5 hours or so of sack time. Johnny had come by but Maria kept Lisa from waking me up on account of me needing sleep. Plum wore out was what was used to expound upon that from what I was told.
I got up & went down to the gift shop. It was Mothers Day after all. I never was good about getting Frankie things for her birthday or Mothers day or Christmas but I figured she might like something. I ended up getting her flowers & a little blue teddy bear that matched the color of the ballcap she wore in place of her wig. They had started the morphine again. This time a time release pill with 2cc shots in her I.V. as needed. She was a bit drowsy but when someone said something about the flowers she said they were pretty & when I gave her the bear she took it in her hand & said Thank you Michael. (12 equals 100, 37 gets me right at 720 yards)
That night her breathing was getting bad. More labored is probably a better description. I had a chat with Danny earlier about not crying in front of her. He seemed to listen as he cut down a bit on that afterwards. We also talked about what she knew & what she should be told. He claimed she knew everything. My main concern was that she had asked earlier when the doctors said she could go home. He told me that they’d talked about it before & that she didn’t want to die in her house. It made sense as they bought the home they lived in as a transitional one & intended on finding something they liked better. But he told me that she knew everything that he did & that they’d talked about it all & he was doing what she wanted even though he didn’t agree. For instance she had signed a Do Not Resuscitate order a few days before over his objections. Or maybe it was the form saying she didn’t want to be kept alive on a ventilator. I forget exactly which it was but he was trying to talk her out of it, yet went along when she put her foot down.
Frankie & I talked a lot, or at least often. Not usually about such serious things but despite it seeming otherwise we were as close as I’ve ever been to anyone in the family, except maybe for Frank & Jean. I’d have taken on the whole family hell the whole hospital if they tried to go against her wishes. Danny assured me that they were doing as she wanted so that made me feel a little better. But I was there now not just to cheer her up in her last days but to do whatever I could for her. Protecting her from the family trying to protect her seemed the most likely task.
Carol was another good friend of Frankie’s. She had breast cancer & was doing well but she had helped Frankie through her first bout & they’d been close to some degree ever since. So she was up there Sunday as well. Doris stopped by with Jennifer (her daughter, who’s about 30 & has Downs Syndrome) & Dion (her son who’s in his 40s now). Dion talked with Frankie a bit. I was in the room with them & he was reminiscing about her & Maria taking him to see Elvis back in 76. (Doris was the biggest Elvis fan but she was sick when he came to town.) Frankie remembered that & me saying I didn’t want to go because Bugs Bunny was coming on (I was 5 at the time).
While smoking I made some friends. One was a janitor who came round & swept up the ashtrays in the designated smoking area in the garage. Another was a fellow who was having hip surgery. Seems he was shot ten years before & there was a complication with the rod in his hip. Of course we talked about wound ballistics & that he should be glad it was a 9mm instead of something more powerful. He asked why I was there since I didn’t seem sick or medical & I told him I was visiting my mom. He asked if shed be in there long & I told him shed be going home any day now. (15 gets me to 200 & 29 puts me on at 560 yards)
I came back from smoking & everyone was in the hall. I thought she might have passed while I was gone. I asked Maria & she just said they were changing her colonoscopy bag. I started to walk in & Maria told me it smells horrible in there. I went in anyway wondering how many times Frankie changed my diaper despite the smell. When Lisa came back in the room I asked her to crush up some of the flower pedals behind her & put them on Frankie’s chest. She asked why & I told her it might make her smell the flowers instead of the contents of her colonoscopy bag. No idea if it helped or not as Frankie seemed to be asleep.
That night I got into it with Danny. Or came close. Actually I came close to snapping his neck. Frankie was awake at some point & Danny was asleep in a chair beside her. I talked to her a bit & she was having trouble getting words out. I asked if she was in pain & she said no. I had her squeeze my fingers as I place them inside her palm & was about to make sure she wasn’t hurting when Danny woke up & started pestering her. Asking a bunch of questions rapidly & saying huh before moving on to the next as she was struggling to answer. He had crowded between her & I & I leaned over to try to calm him down a little.
She’s having trouble talking so try to ask her things that she can say yes or no to.
Huh? WhaMicheal would you just shut up a minute I’m trying to talk with my wife!
Danny is about my height. He has a big belly & isn’t in great physical shape. Very quickly I reasoned that me going to jail for snapping him in two wouldn’t help Frankie. It would have been easy though.
Maria, Frankie’s having trouble saying big words. Try to get Danny to just ask her yes or no questions.
I ain’t saying nothing. Its been Frankie & Danny for a long time & I’m not getting in the middle of it.
I left, thinking of Danny laying unconscious beside the window I would miss throwing him out of on purpose.
That morning (Monday the 15th) the docs came in & said she had a few hours. If she hadn’t heard the docs saying it shed have guessed from the way everyone got up around her bed & started telling her they loved her & crying.
I called Johnny around 6 a.m. & told him what the docs had said. He was torn up & asked if he could do anything. So I told him to call my ex & let her know what was going on. Gave him the number & told him to tell her not to call me. She & I hadn’t spoken in months & I didn’t want this to be the reason we started talking again. Besides I think she’s pretty much done with me & it’d be best to leave her alone for me as well as her. But she liked Frankie & always asked about her & told me to let her know how she was even when it didn’t seem like wed be talking again. Id asked Lisa to call her the night before but she didn’t get around to it. & Johnny & her got along well so I figured it’d give him something to do & not be so much a shock coming from him.
I had my phone off. A few phones rang earlier that day & even though mine was set to vibrate instead of ring I just shut the damn thing off. Besides the alarm kept going off randomly & I didn’t want Frankie to hear a series of beeps right before she went. So I didn’t hear the phone ring when my ex called & left me a message. I doubt Id have answered anyway; it was hard enough listening to her message. She was very sad about the whole thing.
I called Grady as well. Frankie always asked about him, more than any of the other musicians I played with. He was close to her age & a charmer as she put it. He & I were real close for a long time & he had lost his mother to cancer when he was 16 or so. He never answers his phone so I left a message & he left one back. I can’t remember if I told Frankie about him calling or not. She was asleep & I don’t know if she would have heard, but she was always glad when I told her about talking with Grady. I think she was hoping he’d find me a gig in the Carolinas so I could move back, but she might have just liked hearing about him as he was doing well down in Myrtle Beach.
At some point early that morning (but after the docs came in) Frankie woke up a little. She had been sleeping but she suddenly popped open her eyes & arched her back a little. Danny grinned & said look at that! She’s trying to get up. The second time she did it (a few minutes later) I realized she was in pain. I should have had them call the nurse & get her some morphine but really I was too shocked that she was hurting that bad & that Danny couldn’t see it. He desperately didn’t want to lose her, not just cause he cared about her but he was co-dependant on her.
Another doc walked in a second later (literally) & asked how she was. I immediately blurted out that she was in pain while Danny was trying to say she wanted to get up out of the bed. She lurched again as she had before & the doc called for a nurse to install a morphine drip. She didn’t seem to hurt again after that. 2ccs an hour kept her asleep.
I asked Maria about some water or lip balm for Frankie so her lips wouldn’t get dried out as she seemed to be breathing through her mouth. Maria just said that Frankie was fine in a way that I knew. Maria had about as much sleep as I did & wasn’t at all happy about losing her sister. She didn’t think anything else could be done & didn’t want to be reminded of it.
Later that day Danny decided to move her a bit. The day before she asked him to move her closer to the center of the bed & she had drifted to her right since then. When he moved her he did something to her leg & she opened her eyes. So he did it again telling her how happy he was to see her pretty eyes open. I quietly said that she was in pain when he did that & he stopped. If he’d have tried again Id have snapped his hand off at the wrist.
She slept. Her breathing was in a strange rhythm. Two or three short breaths followed by a long one then a slightly longer than usual pause between them. But it was steady. I just watched her breath, ignoring what anyone else was talking about. (16 gets me to 233.3 yards, 52 puts me on at 925, 47 gets me 867.5 yards)
Now we were involved in our final argument whether I could stay awake longer than she could stay alive. I had a total of 16 hours of sleep since I left Colorado 5 days before. Id been awake since around noon the day before & I was tired as hell. But I wanted to stay awake, not so much to see her last breath (there are a few people whose last breath Id like to see, but Frankie wasn’t one of them), but to make sure she didn’t need anything up to that. & partly to make sure Danny didn’t do something damn fool like take her off the morphine to talk with her again or see her open her eyes or something. I don’t think he would have ever done anything to intentionally hurt her. Negligently is another story.
Around 6 p.m. or so she won. I had my sleeping bag propped up beside where I was sitting. Except for that nap on Saturday morning I had been sitting on the floor to the right side of her bed against the cabinet where the sink was. Not sure if I was more like a statue or a watch dog as that had been my spot since I arrived & Id sit there for hours just watching her, waiting to see if she needed anything. I put on my shades & leaned my head over on the bag & slept for about 2 hours. When I woke up she was still breathing. There was a longer pause though between that long breath & the shorter ones. Two, sometimes three second would go by. & my heart stopped every time she paused like that, thinking it was the last pause shed take.
I guess while I was asleep someone asked a nurse & she brought in a little foam sponge on a stick cause I saw Danny & then Lisa wiping her lips with it. It was just water but it kept her lips from chapping as she breathed through her mouth. I doubt seriously that Frankie would have noticed chapped lips. I hope the morphine made her unaware of anything but the dreams she was having about horses or Elvis or whatever else she dreamed about. But she would have wanted us to keep her lips from chapping, so we did.
Watching someone breathe is not easy, especially when they’re having trouble doing it. But I watched, like we all did. Occasionally someone would talk to her or to each other. Both of Maria’s children were there (her son Chris had flown in from New York on Saturday), Maria’s sister-in-law Trina & her daughter Jennifer, Wes, Danny, Elsie, Carol, Maria, Steve, Elizabeth, Pam, Lisa & me. It was a roomful to say the least. Around midnight I went down for a smoke but decided to grab something to eat first. A couple of slices of pizza & a cigarette later & I was back in the room.
Her breathing was different. One long breath, then a pause, then another long breath, then a pause. I started counting the pauses. Three, four, sometimes five seconds. Danny was barely awake beside her, holding her hand. She sounded a bit congested so I asked Danny if there was anything the nurses could do to clear it up. It wasn’t the fluid on her lungs, it just sounded like she needed to cough & I figured the morphine was making her too weak to cough. I knew they had done something to clear out her air passages before but Danny said there wasn’t anything that could be done. Maria was stirring a bit by then & noticed the pause. This was longer; maybe seven or eight seconds. Maria woke up Lisa & Steve jerked awake & everyone rushed to the bedside. I counted to ten & knew I could keep counting forever. I didn’t need to recite sight adjustments in my head anymore.
I left, rather quickly. I went to the waiting room to see if any family was in there, then went back to grab my sleeping bag. Someone, I forget who told me that she was gone. I was pretty choked up & just said I know as I walked out. It was 1:30 a.m. E.S.T. She made it around 20 hours longer than the docs thought. Frank would have been proud.
Frankie Jean Harrington Webster was born on Valentines Day of 1953. Cancer got her in January of 2001 but she didn’t accept it till the Tuesday after Mothers Day of 06.
Hey Michael.
Hey Frankie.
What brings you out here?
You know Colorado doesn’t have any good biscuits.
I know what that means.
Yeah.
(12 equals 100, 15 equals 200, 18 equals 300, 22 equals 400, 26 equals 500, 31 equals 600, 36 equals 700, 42 equals 800, 50 equals 900, 58 equals 1,000)
That’s my mother. I hadn’t seen her since January & they’d just wheeled her in from radiation. That was on May 12th around 10 a.m. EST. If it wasn’t for the family being in the room & the sound of her voice I wouldn’t have recognized her. The numbers Ill explain later.
But that was the way we’d talk. I’d be a smart ass & shed ignore it & go on with what she thought I was trying to conceal with my answer. Her son, her eldest child showing up meant that things were bad. She was right; I wouldn’t have made the drive if it were just a weekend stay in the hospital. But I always called her Frankie. It was never mom or mother or momma; just Frankie. Well unless I was trying to stress something then it was Frankie Jean. Both I acquired from her father. & to be fair I called all my other relatives by their names instead of their titles with the sole exception of my father’s mother. No idea why, that’s just how it was.
Frankie had cancer. In 2001 they took her breast & gave her poisons in controlled doses coupled with radiation & thought they had it licked. She had went back to work & went back to school to learn Spanish so she wouldn’t need an interpreter on her next mission trip to the Dominican Republic. In 2005 it had come back. Liver, lung & brain were the homes of new tumors, so she went back to the chemo & radiation. There were complications this time around though. In May of 05 her colon ruptured. They had to do emergency surgery (like there’s recreational surgery to contrast it with) & installed a colonoscopy bag. It was supposed to be temporary but turned permanent.
In May of 05 my ex-g/f & I went to see her. I hadn’t been back to Charlotte since December of 01, which was un-coincidentally with the same girl who was then not yet my ex. It was supposed to be a surprise but I think my stepfather ratted us out. We went out to various fish camps & such (Colorado being landlocked I missed flounder & hushpuppies something fierce) & all in all had a good visit. We even stayed at Frankie’s house which I was reluctant to do.
I had traveled to Pensacola Florida in February of 93 to see Frankie. It was a surprise visit; I don’t think I talked to anyone in the family since Jean (Frankie’s mom) died the November before. I was fairly young & not sure what I was doing at all. When I got to their house Danny asked what brought me to Pensacola. I replied an Oldsmobile & at that he became a little agitated & told me I could stay the night but in the morning Id have to leave. Frankie didn’t say much then but I knew she told him later on that if I wanted to stay I could. I didn’t I spent the day with her & left that evening for New Orleans but that’s another tale.
So if it weren’t for having my ex with me & not wanting to hurt Frankie’s feelings I would have stayed elsewhere. & all in all it went okay. My ex & Frankie got along well. Not just the polite southern way of getting along but they seemed to genuinely like each other. My ex’s mom had a few things in common with Frankie & I always thought one of the shames of our break up was that they’d never get to meet & discuss the Home Shopping Network addiction they both shared.
I went back in January of 06 for a few days. I had planned this trip for a few months & at the last minute had to do some shucking & jiving with the arrangements. Danny had once again clued Frankie in to my arrival & she didn’t want me to come. Not that she hated me or anything but she was pretty weak or weaker than she had been & didn’t want to worry about me driving halfway across the country.
Some more background:
In the fall of 05 new tumors had cropped up. One was in her hip & another in her right eye. Radiation got rid of the one in her hip & some kind of laser surgery got the one in her eye but it left her with failing vision. To add to her burden her lungs started acting funny. She spent the week before Christmas in the hospital & when she came home she had oxygen tanks.
They thought it was pulmonary fibrosis that was cutting her breath short. Oxygen & new meds were the prescription. The problem was that the new meds precluded chemo & radiation so while they were trying to fix her lungs the cancer started growing again.
She was up & around shortly, but had to deal with the colonoscopy bag & oxygen tanks. Frankie was always very mobile & it made her sad that she couldn’t go down to Charleston, S.C. with my ex & me when we visited the year before (but she rented us two nights in the hotel she knew I usually stayed at when Id play down there) so the further limitations on her mobility were aggravating.
That inability to get out coupled with her worrying about me driving across country was why she didn’t want me to come out there. She had offered numerous times to buy my plane ticket but I won’t fly.
I’m a gun nut. Worse, I’m a politically aware gun nut. I run a website that deals with political & legal issues about firearms & to put it mildly I have very strong opinions on the current state of gun control in the country. Any talk of September the 11th of 2001 usually results in me mentioning that it was the day when 19 punks with boxcutters beat the u.S. in an arms race. I feel positively naked if I’m more than a short walk from a rifle or a short jump from my pistols, so the idea of letting some jerk that makes a little over minimum wage take away my pocket knife just to fly on a commercial plane is a bit much for me to bear. Despite being unconstitutional it’s pragmatically disastrous as evidenced by anyone who watches United 93 & recalls when the passengers were scrounging for weapons.
So I drive cross country to go back home. Frankie never really understood this or at least didn’t agree with it but she was used to my being stubborn. The last Christmas card she sent me said as much (a real tear jerker she wrote while still in the hospital). It’s a trait we inherited (learned rather) from her father. It’s complex, perhaps too complex to be told here but I was raised by her parents so in a lot of ways she was more like a really close aunt or older sister than a mother. Not that it mattered or affected our relationship adversely. Wed argue like parents & kids do about the direction of the kid’s life & she’d worry about me the way that parents worry about their kids who don’t do things exactly the way they would.
So on that trip I took a longer than anticipated route & ended up spending 4 days in Charlotte rather than the week or so I was planning on.
The first night I was in town she was tired out from a doctor’s visit. The next day she, Lisa (my sister) & I went shopping then out to dinner that night. She had her oxygen bottles with her & used one up completely as she showed me the new mall a bit north of where she lived. She obviously forgot that I hated shopping just as much as when I was 4 & would throw a tantrum on the floor of whatever store we were in (followed of course by her popping me on the backside for acting up in public) . But she was enjoying herself so I didn’t remind her.
She was visibly pissed when I left town, as evidenced by her telling me off (which she hadn’t done in a year or two to that degree) & in between lectures on how I could live my life better she said she wished I would come when she was capable of doing more. To be clear the mall trip tired me out & I’m used to breathing much thinner air! But that was how she was. She liked to go do things.
She was also adamantly optimistic. She really believed that in a few months they’d get her lungs straightened out & the cancer would be under control & shed be able to do more. In early May of 06 she had told me that they (her & Danny) were thinking of riding down to Charleston in a few weeks.
After I left her breathing remained about the same, but the meds she had been taking had cut back on her immune system & the cancer was growing again. Not just growing but spreading.
I got a call in March from Maria (Frankie’s sister) that she was in the hospital again & that Id better come if I wanted to see her alive. Turned out to be a false alarm (as far as her demise was concerned) but the cancer & her lungs were wearing her down. Shed lost vision in her right eye because the tumor they had lasered was growing again & her left eye was good on some days worse on others. That was a real shame because she liked to read (which is another habit we shared).
She took comfort in being in a hospital. I think she thought that the nurses & doctors were right there & could keep her safe. She also liked chemo. Not the side effects to be sure, but she hated to go without it cause she was scared the cancer would come back on her if she went too long.
But they let her out after about a week. I believe it was the week after that Danny took her driving up to Boone & she got to see some snowfall.
Frankie loved Pensacola Florida. Gulfbreeze actually, which was where she lived from the time I was 16 to the time I was 29. She missed it & would have moved back on a moments notice, but Danny wanted to be closer to his aging mother & she knew she needed to be close to Maria & Lisa. But she also really liked snow. Not cold weather per se, but snow. Id call her every time it snowed out here (which was a lot) & shed get all excited about it. She was also a weather channel addict & shed tune in just to see glimpses of the snow here in Denver. So it was really cool that she was in Boone when it snowed.
Danny is an ass, but not the malevolent sort of ass, more the ass that results from negligence or ignorance. I never cared for him much but I got along with him alright mainly because Frankie liked him & he was decent to her. He loved her. I assume she loved him. So I tried not to let my old grudges come up.
On May 4th she went into the hospital again. This time she was complaining of back pain. They found 3 tumors in her back along her spine. They started giving her morphine.
The family called me again & told me to come out there. Not just one or two members but Lisa, Johnny (mine & Lisa’s father) Carrie (Maria’s daughter; my cousin) & finally Danny.
A little about Johnny:
Frankie married him when she was 18. Later that year they had me. They had separated & tried to work things out when I was 2 months old (leaving me with Frankie’s parents who would end up raising me). In May of 73 Lisa was born. A few years later they divorced. The reasons are more or less family business & I wont mention them here but needless to say they didn’t get along well. At one point Johnny fought unsuccessfully for custody of Lisa & paid child support on both of use till we were 18 respectively. Johnny & I always got along as did Johnny & Lisa. Even Frankie’s parents liked him. Sometimes things between men & women just don’t work out though.
In '91 Johnny lost his mother to cancer. He didn’t sleep for days while she was on her deathbed & run himself ragged trying to do whatever he could for her. Watching her die of cancer was hard on him, perhaps harder than he’d admit.
My aunt told me of several times when Johnny would call or see her & ask about Frankie. He’d get visibly upset when the reports were looking grim. He told me a few times that even though they didn’t get along he’d never wish that (cancer) on her.
So when he called to tell me to drop everything & get out there I knew it wasn’t going to be a false alarm.
I cannot just drop everything & leave town. Reasons both economic & pragmatic preclude that. Id made up my mind to go see her but it took a few days to get on the road. Aside from scraping together the cash for the trip (I was just recovering from the last one) I had some mechanical issues with the car that needed to be addressed. So when Danny called me on Wednesday the 10th to tell me that Frankie didn’t have much time I was already packing the car & about to take off. When Lisa & Carrie called again & cussed me out for not coming I was almost to the Kansas border.
I didn’t tell anyone I was coming because I was making the trip with a leaking radiator & a cylinder that either wasn’t working at all or only partially working. That left 3 cylinders in an 87 Honda with 243,000 miles on it. I didn’t want them to tell Frankie I was coming & end up broken down someplace in Oklahoma. & they would have told her. More specifically if Danny would have heard they’d have told her & they’d have told Danny. I didn’t see any point in getting her hopes up or having her worry about me on the trip. Besides, I fully expected to get a call when I was in Tennessee or Oklahoma telling me shed passed. No need in making them feel bad for me that I didn’t make it despite trying.
I made the trip in 2 days instead of the usual 3. 15 hours on the first leg & 13 on the second. I would have tried it in one but halfway through Oklahoma I had a problem with one of my contacts & had to stop for the night to straighten it out. The whole trip I kept hearing this old Skynyrd tune in my head. Its called Was I Right Or Wrong? & if you listen to it you’ll understand why (here's a vid but the sound isn't great). Well it alternated between that & this Vince Gill tune called Go Rest High On That Mountain (here's the vid - I still get a litle weepy when the harmonies kick in).
I told my sister I was on the way on the 2nd day & why she couldn’t tell anyone so I think she kept things quiet. I got to her house in Denver N.C. around 1 a.m. EST on Friday morning. After 3 hours of sleep (I had 5.5 the night before in a hotel in Russellville, Arkansas) we were on our way to the hospital.
When we got there she had just been taking down to radiation. At that point they didn’t think they could get rid of the cancer, but shrinking the tumors might ease her pain. She had 5 treatments over 4 days & it seemed to help for a while.
An hour later they wheeled her bed back in the room & we had the exchange that opened this tale.
Everybody was kind of hushed when she said that she knew what my visit meant, & somehow got even quieter when I confirmed it with a yeah. When I was 18 I told Frank (Frankie’s father) that the doc said he had a few hours to live. The family wouldn’t do it. Ditto with Jean (Frankie’s mother) although the circumstances were slightly different. So they were worried that Id tell her things they didn’t think she should be bothered with. & I did.
They cleared out & Frankie & I talked for a while.
Who called you to come out here?
Everybody. Lisa, Maria, Johnny even Carrie called & cussed me out cause she didn’t think I was coming
What’d they say? Did they tell you how much time I’ve got?
(12 equals 100, 15 equals 200, etc)
No; no ones said anything about time, just to get out here quick. They wouldn’t tell me anyway they’d be scared I'd tell you. When Frank died they said he had a few hours left. No one would tell him so I went in & told him what the docs had said. He just looked at me & said Is that right? & lived about 15 16 hours longer than they thought, just to piss them off.
She smiled a little at that.
Where’d everyone else go?
I ‘spose they’re outside so we can talk. They think were mad at each other.
Why would they think that?
Cause of the way we argue all the time I guess.
hmmmm
I do love you Frankie
I love you too Michael
(18 gets me 300, 31 is 600)
That was the first time I can recall her telling me she loved me. That was just the way we were not overly emotional with each other.
Lisa came in at some point. After a few minutes I left so they could talk. Had to have a smoke anyway. Turns out there were designated smoking areas other than just being outside. If it seems irreverent that Id smoke while my mother is dying of cancer I smoked before she had it & Ill smoke after. My family is et up with cancer. I’ve lost a great aunt, grandmother, uncle & now mother to it. If I live long enough Ill have it. Smoking has nothing to do with it. Cancer is genetic. Certain things such as smoking can accelerate it (or appear to) in some people but it doesn’t cause it. Frankie never smoked. She hardly ever drank & you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who’s ever heard her cuss. But she had cancer.
They had all told me I wouldn’t recognize her. I didn’t really believe them till I saw her.
Frankie was always small. As Grady (a bass player I used to work with, & a good friend) said about Frankie & Maria they’re petite little ladies. She might have been 120 before the cancer but Id guess closer to 110 or 115. Over the past year her face had been a bit puffy cause of the steroids she was on. & she was very concerned about her appearance. No one but Danny had ever seen her without her wig until this hospital stay, & even then she had a little blue baseball cap shed wear. She was very upset when she lost her hair the first time & had a panic attack when they told her last year that shed lose it again. Southern women aren’t the only ones who would react that way, but I think it hits them harder than say women from Colorado or New York.
Her face was swollen. Not in the bee sting sort of way but in the take off the mask to see Anakin Skywalker sort of way. Her hair was maybe an inch & a half long & grayish more than the brown her hair had been before the cancer. It wasn’t growing as far forward on her scalp as I thought it should either. If I’d have seen her I wouldn’t have realized it was her, just that the poor woman had a nose similar to Frankie’s.
That wasn’t the worst of it though. Her voice was shaky as were her hands. They’d give her Coke or Pepsi in these little Styrofoam cups that maybe held 3 or 4 ounces. I have shot glasses bigger than those. Shed take the cup in her little trembling hands & it’d take her a second to find her mouth with the straw. Shed take a sip or two then hold the cup away from her face & tell someone (usually Danny) to take it from her. She couldn’t sit up (or move herself at all really) so wed have to raise the back of the bed for her to drink. It was pitiful. The first time I saw her drink like that I thought that my ex would break out into tears as she saw it. The last time I saw her drink like that I thought my ex would still be breaking out in tears as she saw it. My ex really did like Frankie & to see her like that would have torn her up. I know it tore me up. That’s where the numbers come in.
12 clicks of the sight on my Garand will get me on target at 100 yards. 15 will make that 200 yards, 18 gets me 300 & so on. From the 100 yard setting its 3 clicks to 200, then 3 to 300, then 4 to 400, 4 to 500, 5 to 600, 5 to 700, 6 to 800, 8 to 900 & 8 more to 1,000 yards. Frankie hadn’t seen me cry since I was 15 or so. She saw me come close in January but close isn’t the same as actually crying. Damned if I was gonna scare her by letting her see her son weeping over her bed. So I would think of the sight adjustments for my rifle. Could have been anything really any simple math just complex enough to distract but not so simple as to not require thought. That helped me maintain my composure. If I were a mechanic I might have thought about compression ratios for my favorite car. I’m a gun nut so I thought about sight adjustments.
I had found a few spots to smoke one close & the other more open. So Id hang out in the room with Frankie except when I went to smoke. At some point I realized that wed been there all day, not just the few hours I thought we would. So I figured I needed to figure out what I was doing.
Frankie, I can go back to Lisa’s & get some sleep or I can stay here if you want me to
Whatever you want to do Michael
No its whatever you want.
Well what do you want to do?
I can go back to Lisa’s if you want or I can stay here. I don’t have any plans. I’ll do whatever you’d like. Do you want me to stay up here with you?
That’d be good
(12 gets me to 100, 17 would be 266.6 yards, then 23 would be)
So it was settled. Lisa took that as a command to stay as well. I wish she hadn’t. Watching someone die isn’t easy. But I didn’t try too hard to convince her to go home.
Johnny called & came by to see me & Lisa at one of the designated smoking sections. He said he didn’t want to see Frankie but he’d like to talk with Danny & Maria. I told him how he wouldn’t recognize her & he started crying which came close to setting me & Lisa off. (12 equals 100, 15 gets me to 200, etc)
He went & talked with Maria & Steve & spoke with Danny for a few minutes. Maria & Steve were in the family waiting area & Danny was in the room. He didn’t leave much. He may have been an ass but he did care about her.
Maria asked me to stay with Frankie while they went & got something to eat in the cafeteria so I told Johnny bye & went back into the room. Frankie & I talked a little bit. I remember telling her that it snowed in Denver the night before I left just a little but enough to see coming down.
I spent most of the night awake. Well all of it really. I tend to be nocturnal anyway & figured Id take the night watch. Danny, Maria, Lisa, & Robin (Danny’s sister) were staying as well but they were trying to get some sleep. Frankie slept most of the night too. Morphine does that to ya. But every now & then shed open her eyes & Id bug her about doing anything for her getting her a drink, adjusting her bed, etc
Danny was constantly bugging her; asking her the same thing over & over again. Usually he was trying to get her to eat. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. Morphine coupled with fluid in the abdomen & around the lungs will do that.
The fluid had started building up days before. Her belly looked swollen, almost like she was pregnant. Again this is on a woman who normally wasn’t over 120 pounds if she ever weighed that much. They also found more tumors. First they said five then ten then that her whole spine was eat up with cancer. The tumor in her eye was back, the one in her lung was growing as was the one in her liver. They never mentioned the ones in her brain.
I slept a few hours Saturday morning. Nothing fancy, just pillows & a chair. Luckily all those years on the road playing in bands taught me how to sleep even when it was less than comfortable. I heard Maria talking to me when she thought I was waking up:
The doctor said that Frankie’s lungs will get worse in the next 48 hours
What’d Frankie say?
We ain’t gonna tell her that!
If it’s about her she needs to know
Michael that’d scare her to death
We shouldn’t lie to her
I drifted back off to sleep.
Saturday was a good day for her, considering. The radiation had killed some of the pain. I don’t think she had any morphine at all that day. She was alert & talked a bit. Our cousin Doris came by. Doris was Frankie’s fathers niece & she & Frankie were real close even though Doris was a bit older.
I didn’t talk too much to the family while I was there. I shot the breeze with Steve (Maria’s husband) for a bit & I chatted with Lisa & her g/f Pam when we were out smoking but mainly it was just saying hey to folks I hadn’t seen in a while & talking about what we could do for Frankie. I do recall telling Maria I wouldn’t stay for the funeral; that I had to get back as soon as I could. She said she understood & was just glad I was there now & I told her I just wanted her to know cause I knew how they were about funerals & such.
Things are a bit fuzzy. I recall some conversations but I’m not entirely sure when they happened. Like telling Frankie to try to drink as much as she can so her mouth wouldn’t get dry. I went on to remind her that Frank said that when he was little the old folks always told him to drink a Coca-cola when he was feeling down. Course that was when they used the whole cocoa leaf. She smiled a little at that. I also remember telling her to not let Danny & me & everyone else bug her too much, but every now & then let us do something for her to make us feel like were doing something for her cause it’ll keep us from feeling totally useless.
I remember at some point she had me get her some coke & I helped her drink it (raised the back of the bed, put the cup in her little trembling hands, watched her as she tried to find her lips with the straw, took it from her when she had enough). My ex would have been crying. I would have too. (12 gets me 100 yards, 27 gets me 525, etc)
I thought about & am talking about my ex a lot because of well I’m not sure why. She got along well with Frankie & well we were close for a while. The dynamic of our relationship was probably strange, especially after we broke up. She had two cats & one of them got sick. Cancer. Fluid around the lungs. I helped her take care of the cat after I moved out. Hell, I spent more time with the cats then I did with her (she was a student, incredibly busy & traveled a lot. I even joked to some degree that I was never her b/f just her cat sitter) so I did it for the cat as much as for her. But I always tried to take care of her in some way. I cared for her that much & at some point when she saw me tending to the cat she said she thought Id make a good husband & a good father. Shame I didn’t make a better b/f but such is life. & maybe it’s that she liked seeing my protective side that made me think so much of her when I was with Frankie that last week cause since Frank & Jean passed I really hadn’t used it to any great extent except with her.
*I also thought of another ex but didn’t mention it when I originally penned this piece. She was an ex-lover, not a g/f, but the distinguishment is only technical. I felt as much caring from her as I have from anyone, possibly more so. But at the time I wrote this she had moved on to something else & I had kept quiet about how I cared for her. We were still friends & I didn’t wish to disturb that – she seemed happy. But I thought of her often & almost called her a time or too. Her voice always gave me comfort though I doubt she realized it. Besides, I didn’t want to risk breaking down in front of anyone, especially her. So I didn’t make too many calls even though maybe I should have. She was a nursing student & whenever she came across an article about some new treatment for cancer she’d send it to me. I never found anything that could help Frankie but the fact that she took the time & effort & had the thought to send them really touched me. & made me kick myself a little harder than usual for letting her drift away.
Saturday I borrowed Lisa’s car to go get mine from her house. I went by Bojangles (which due to its absence out here I regard as a delicacy) & grabbed a quick shower. My car is my life. I have my cigarettes in there, my phone charger, cds, rifles, guitar, etc & being away from it was nagging on me. I should have grabbed some sleep but I didn’t want to be gone too long & it was a 45 minute drive to the hospital.
I stayed up with Frankie again. She was sleeping but a bit more restlessly. Her leg would twitch every now & then. Shed wake up & we talk briefly before she drifted off again. This time it was Danny, Maria, Robin, Elsie (Danny’s mother), Lisa & me in the room with her.
Danny had a brother named Ray who died from cancer about 15 years ago. That’s partially why his family was staying up there with him; the other part is that they just always seemed nice. Elsie always grated me for some reason (& I think Frankie as well shed usually stay at home on thanksgiving & such instead of going over there) but she was always real nice.
Wes, the preacher at Frankie & Maria’s church was up there constantly. He’d go home at night but he’d stay up there for hours every day. Elizabeth was up there a lot as well. She was a good friend of Frankie’s. In fact she sang at Frank & Jeans respective funerals. I never could stand her singing way too much vibrato; reminded me of a lady singing with a tummy exercising belt strapped around her turned on high; always implied the note, never directly hitting it on purpose unless it was a really short one syllable word she came across but Frankie & Maria liked it so I did a good bit of tongue biting when she was around. At some point she started singing spontaneously in the room. I left very quickly. I figured they just thought I was getting emotional but it was to remove the temptation to tell her that I’ve heard two cats in heat who never really liked each other to begin with sound more melodic than she does.
Anyway I kept asking Frankie if she was in pain & she kept saying no. She probably was but didn’t want to let on. In any event she didn’t have any morphine till the next day.
I grabbed my sleeping bag from my car & spread it out on the floor by the window. Sunday morning I got 5 hours or so of sack time. Johnny had come by but Maria kept Lisa from waking me up on account of me needing sleep. Plum wore out was what was used to expound upon that from what I was told.
I got up & went down to the gift shop. It was Mothers Day after all. I never was good about getting Frankie things for her birthday or Mothers day or Christmas but I figured she might like something. I ended up getting her flowers & a little blue teddy bear that matched the color of the ballcap she wore in place of her wig. They had started the morphine again. This time a time release pill with 2cc shots in her I.V. as needed. She was a bit drowsy but when someone said something about the flowers she said they were pretty & when I gave her the bear she took it in her hand & said Thank you Michael. (12 equals 100, 37 gets me right at 720 yards)
That night her breathing was getting bad. More labored is probably a better description. I had a chat with Danny earlier about not crying in front of her. He seemed to listen as he cut down a bit on that afterwards. We also talked about what she knew & what she should be told. He claimed she knew everything. My main concern was that she had asked earlier when the doctors said she could go home. He told me that they’d talked about it before & that she didn’t want to die in her house. It made sense as they bought the home they lived in as a transitional one & intended on finding something they liked better. But he told me that she knew everything that he did & that they’d talked about it all & he was doing what she wanted even though he didn’t agree. For instance she had signed a Do Not Resuscitate order a few days before over his objections. Or maybe it was the form saying she didn’t want to be kept alive on a ventilator. I forget exactly which it was but he was trying to talk her out of it, yet went along when she put her foot down.
Frankie & I talked a lot, or at least often. Not usually about such serious things but despite it seeming otherwise we were as close as I’ve ever been to anyone in the family, except maybe for Frank & Jean. I’d have taken on the whole family hell the whole hospital if they tried to go against her wishes. Danny assured me that they were doing as she wanted so that made me feel a little better. But I was there now not just to cheer her up in her last days but to do whatever I could for her. Protecting her from the family trying to protect her seemed the most likely task.
Carol was another good friend of Frankie’s. She had breast cancer & was doing well but she had helped Frankie through her first bout & they’d been close to some degree ever since. So she was up there Sunday as well. Doris stopped by with Jennifer (her daughter, who’s about 30 & has Downs Syndrome) & Dion (her son who’s in his 40s now). Dion talked with Frankie a bit. I was in the room with them & he was reminiscing about her & Maria taking him to see Elvis back in 76. (Doris was the biggest Elvis fan but she was sick when he came to town.) Frankie remembered that & me saying I didn’t want to go because Bugs Bunny was coming on (I was 5 at the time).
While smoking I made some friends. One was a janitor who came round & swept up the ashtrays in the designated smoking area in the garage. Another was a fellow who was having hip surgery. Seems he was shot ten years before & there was a complication with the rod in his hip. Of course we talked about wound ballistics & that he should be glad it was a 9mm instead of something more powerful. He asked why I was there since I didn’t seem sick or medical & I told him I was visiting my mom. He asked if shed be in there long & I told him shed be going home any day now. (15 gets me to 200 & 29 puts me on at 560 yards)
I came back from smoking & everyone was in the hall. I thought she might have passed while I was gone. I asked Maria & she just said they were changing her colonoscopy bag. I started to walk in & Maria told me it smells horrible in there. I went in anyway wondering how many times Frankie changed my diaper despite the smell. When Lisa came back in the room I asked her to crush up some of the flower pedals behind her & put them on Frankie’s chest. She asked why & I told her it might make her smell the flowers instead of the contents of her colonoscopy bag. No idea if it helped or not as Frankie seemed to be asleep.
That night I got into it with Danny. Or came close. Actually I came close to snapping his neck. Frankie was awake at some point & Danny was asleep in a chair beside her. I talked to her a bit & she was having trouble getting words out. I asked if she was in pain & she said no. I had her squeeze my fingers as I place them inside her palm & was about to make sure she wasn’t hurting when Danny woke up & started pestering her. Asking a bunch of questions rapidly & saying huh before moving on to the next as she was struggling to answer. He had crowded between her & I & I leaned over to try to calm him down a little.
She’s having trouble talking so try to ask her things that she can say yes or no to.
Huh? WhaMicheal would you just shut up a minute I’m trying to talk with my wife!
Danny is about my height. He has a big belly & isn’t in great physical shape. Very quickly I reasoned that me going to jail for snapping him in two wouldn’t help Frankie. It would have been easy though.
Maria, Frankie’s having trouble saying big words. Try to get Danny to just ask her yes or no questions.
I ain’t saying nothing. Its been Frankie & Danny for a long time & I’m not getting in the middle of it.
I left, thinking of Danny laying unconscious beside the window I would miss throwing him out of on purpose.
That morning (Monday the 15th) the docs came in & said she had a few hours. If she hadn’t heard the docs saying it shed have guessed from the way everyone got up around her bed & started telling her they loved her & crying.
I called Johnny around 6 a.m. & told him what the docs had said. He was torn up & asked if he could do anything. So I told him to call my ex & let her know what was going on. Gave him the number & told him to tell her not to call me. She & I hadn’t spoken in months & I didn’t want this to be the reason we started talking again. Besides I think she’s pretty much done with me & it’d be best to leave her alone for me as well as her. But she liked Frankie & always asked about her & told me to let her know how she was even when it didn’t seem like wed be talking again. Id asked Lisa to call her the night before but she didn’t get around to it. & Johnny & her got along well so I figured it’d give him something to do & not be so much a shock coming from him.
I had my phone off. A few phones rang earlier that day & even though mine was set to vibrate instead of ring I just shut the damn thing off. Besides the alarm kept going off randomly & I didn’t want Frankie to hear a series of beeps right before she went. So I didn’t hear the phone ring when my ex called & left me a message. I doubt Id have answered anyway; it was hard enough listening to her message. She was very sad about the whole thing.
I called Grady as well. Frankie always asked about him, more than any of the other musicians I played with. He was close to her age & a charmer as she put it. He & I were real close for a long time & he had lost his mother to cancer when he was 16 or so. He never answers his phone so I left a message & he left one back. I can’t remember if I told Frankie about him calling or not. She was asleep & I don’t know if she would have heard, but she was always glad when I told her about talking with Grady. I think she was hoping he’d find me a gig in the Carolinas so I could move back, but she might have just liked hearing about him as he was doing well down in Myrtle Beach.
At some point early that morning (but after the docs came in) Frankie woke up a little. She had been sleeping but she suddenly popped open her eyes & arched her back a little. Danny grinned & said look at that! She’s trying to get up. The second time she did it (a few minutes later) I realized she was in pain. I should have had them call the nurse & get her some morphine but really I was too shocked that she was hurting that bad & that Danny couldn’t see it. He desperately didn’t want to lose her, not just cause he cared about her but he was co-dependant on her.
Another doc walked in a second later (literally) & asked how she was. I immediately blurted out that she was in pain while Danny was trying to say she wanted to get up out of the bed. She lurched again as she had before & the doc called for a nurse to install a morphine drip. She didn’t seem to hurt again after that. 2ccs an hour kept her asleep.
I asked Maria about some water or lip balm for Frankie so her lips wouldn’t get dried out as she seemed to be breathing through her mouth. Maria just said that Frankie was fine in a way that I knew. Maria had about as much sleep as I did & wasn’t at all happy about losing her sister. She didn’t think anything else could be done & didn’t want to be reminded of it.
Later that day Danny decided to move her a bit. The day before she asked him to move her closer to the center of the bed & she had drifted to her right since then. When he moved her he did something to her leg & she opened her eyes. So he did it again telling her how happy he was to see her pretty eyes open. I quietly said that she was in pain when he did that & he stopped. If he’d have tried again Id have snapped his hand off at the wrist.
She slept. Her breathing was in a strange rhythm. Two or three short breaths followed by a long one then a slightly longer than usual pause between them. But it was steady. I just watched her breath, ignoring what anyone else was talking about. (16 gets me to 233.3 yards, 52 puts me on at 925, 47 gets me 867.5 yards)
Now we were involved in our final argument whether I could stay awake longer than she could stay alive. I had a total of 16 hours of sleep since I left Colorado 5 days before. Id been awake since around noon the day before & I was tired as hell. But I wanted to stay awake, not so much to see her last breath (there are a few people whose last breath Id like to see, but Frankie wasn’t one of them), but to make sure she didn’t need anything up to that. & partly to make sure Danny didn’t do something damn fool like take her off the morphine to talk with her again or see her open her eyes or something. I don’t think he would have ever done anything to intentionally hurt her. Negligently is another story.
Around 6 p.m. or so she won. I had my sleeping bag propped up beside where I was sitting. Except for that nap on Saturday morning I had been sitting on the floor to the right side of her bed against the cabinet where the sink was. Not sure if I was more like a statue or a watch dog as that had been my spot since I arrived & Id sit there for hours just watching her, waiting to see if she needed anything. I put on my shades & leaned my head over on the bag & slept for about 2 hours. When I woke up she was still breathing. There was a longer pause though between that long breath & the shorter ones. Two, sometimes three second would go by. & my heart stopped every time she paused like that, thinking it was the last pause shed take.
I guess while I was asleep someone asked a nurse & she brought in a little foam sponge on a stick cause I saw Danny & then Lisa wiping her lips with it. It was just water but it kept her lips from chapping as she breathed through her mouth. I doubt seriously that Frankie would have noticed chapped lips. I hope the morphine made her unaware of anything but the dreams she was having about horses or Elvis or whatever else she dreamed about. But she would have wanted us to keep her lips from chapping, so we did.
Watching someone breathe is not easy, especially when they’re having trouble doing it. But I watched, like we all did. Occasionally someone would talk to her or to each other. Both of Maria’s children were there (her son Chris had flown in from New York on Saturday), Maria’s sister-in-law Trina & her daughter Jennifer, Wes, Danny, Elsie, Carol, Maria, Steve, Elizabeth, Pam, Lisa & me. It was a roomful to say the least. Around midnight I went down for a smoke but decided to grab something to eat first. A couple of slices of pizza & a cigarette later & I was back in the room.
Her breathing was different. One long breath, then a pause, then another long breath, then a pause. I started counting the pauses. Three, four, sometimes five seconds. Danny was barely awake beside her, holding her hand. She sounded a bit congested so I asked Danny if there was anything the nurses could do to clear it up. It wasn’t the fluid on her lungs, it just sounded like she needed to cough & I figured the morphine was making her too weak to cough. I knew they had done something to clear out her air passages before but Danny said there wasn’t anything that could be done. Maria was stirring a bit by then & noticed the pause. This was longer; maybe seven or eight seconds. Maria woke up Lisa & Steve jerked awake & everyone rushed to the bedside. I counted to ten & knew I could keep counting forever. I didn’t need to recite sight adjustments in my head anymore.
I left, rather quickly. I went to the waiting room to see if any family was in there, then went back to grab my sleeping bag. Someone, I forget who told me that she was gone. I was pretty choked up & just said I know as I walked out. It was 1:30 a.m. E.S.T. She made it around 20 hours longer than the docs thought. Frank would have been proud.
Frankie Jean Harrington Webster was born on Valentines Day of 1953. Cancer got her in January of 2001 but she didn’t accept it till the Tuesday after Mothers Day of 06.
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