One summer day in 2011 it came back in full force.
From what seemed like out of the blue, I was graciously
invited to spend the day on the Mississippi River with some co-workers. These
were not just any co-workers, they were the 'cool' co-workers; leaders in their
field, super-smart, amazing coders, athletic, and they were all friends.
Me? I'm just a "user experience" guy. A smiley
loner of sorts at work. A 'hack' developer at best (I was OK years ago, but my
focus on design these many years made my detailed coding skills rust).
But I like these guys and I'm always told I should step out
more. One even personally encouraged me since he knew our destination and knew
it would be a great day.
The morning arrived. I took a big breath, left work, and
drove to meet them. It was a beautiful morning!! Perfect weather, and a day on
a boat and jet-ski was very exciting to anticipate.
The fact that I felt like I was 'skipping school' was not
lost on me. The last time I felt like that was as a senior in high school when
it was just...too...nice out to go back after lunch. We drove to Wayzata beach
and just hung out (and happily stayed in detention the next rainy day).
We got to the river (one of the guys lives on the river),
and loaded up. We packed lunches and boated out.
What a treat!The
current kept the water fairly clear, and it was warm and deep. The sand dunes
(from dredging?) on the shore reminded me of a rolling desert.
We stopped on one, climbed it, skipped down it, and played
frisbee and football. I chose frisbee because I'm pretty good at it...and most
of these guys were quarterback types so I knew I was out of my league throwing
football. Turns out I was out of my league at frisbee, too. I just didn't throw
like I normally do...and they threw awesomely. Junior High inferiority struck
again and affected my throws, conversations, and I even felt like I stood
awkwardly.
...and then we got out the water skis.
MAN these guys were good! It was quite fun watching them,
but while I can water ski, it's been years since I slalomed, so I ended up
frolicking on the jet-ski. I love those things and had a blast. They had a
blast too skiing. I would follow the boat like a dolphin following a ship. We
switched around and I rode while looking at bald eagles flying over whoever was
skiing.
It was a nearly perfect day, capped off by an evening campfire.
At the end we said our goodbyes, and I drove home.
I was grateful for the day: the invite, the amazing weather,
the hospitality, the water toys, the conversation, the frisbee, the break from
a very difficult spell at work, and most of all: the possibility that the 'cool'
kids (even if temporarily) thought enough of me to want me around...
...or maybe they just needed someone to drive the jet-ski
around while they were skiing so it was nearby when they wanted to ride it :-)
At the beginning of the summer, the missus stated her desire
to have a garden. If memory serves, it went something like this:
HER: Honey, I think we should build a garden
ME: But...that's why God invented Aldi
HER: Do't get smart. I want a garden with the following
specifications:
1. A decent sized
plot tilled with rich soil
2. A protective
mechanism to protect the veggies from the animals
3. Compost to add
nutrients in the soil
4. Organic seeds
5. A bountiful
harvest
ME: What do you want to harvest?
HER: Pumpkins. And tomatoes. And maybe some strawberries
ME (to self): Why is it every time I hear 'we should' it
means 'I should'?
ME (to her): As you wish
----------
At summer's end, the dialog went something like this:
HER (to herself): I can't believe he didn't take the hint.
What's with him?
HER (to me): I really wanted a garden. Maybe we can get it
together next summer.
ME: But...it's done.
HER: Don't get smart.
ME: Come on! Let's harvest!
...we walk out...she slugs me in the arm...and walks back
in.
ME: (to self) What's her problem? This garden meets or
exceeds all design specifications!?! How can I figure out who is right? I KNOW,
I will ask the Interweb to vote!
ME: (to you): Does this HINTERgarden meet the design
specifications given at the beginning of the summer?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The HINTERgarden - 2011 Requirements and Results
To accurately vote, you must first study the dramatically impressive results with a scientific eye. Here is the expert garden:
Now, realizing some of you may not be as skilled in the art of advanced gardening and botany as I am, I will go into specifics (with layman closeups) to bring to light these amazing results.
1) A decent sized plot, tilled with rich soil
I have labored over this garden plot for nine years.
Honestly! The first step was to add minerals and nutrients to it. And, what
better way to do that than turn this into a rock quarry. I added limestone,
lava rock, pea gravel, and basically any other icky-looking landscaping from
when we moved in. I then let it sit for 4 years, knowing that only such
dedication and patience would produce the kind of soil that is as rich in
nutrients as my heart is filled with the deepest love for my wife.
In 2009, I exposed the soil, letting the sun and elements
fuse the nutrients deep into the soil. Finally in 2010 I tilled the soil, and
acting upon my ancestor from the year 1340 Rudolf Hintermeister and his practice of crop rotation...I let the soil sit for
a year. Oh the anticipation!
2) A protective mechanism to protect the veggies from the
animals
In an effort to garden in a Godly way (as I attempt all my
activities in life), I crafted a "Hedge of Protection" around what
would become our bountiful harvest. What better protection is there than nasty,
pokey, itchy weeds! It was a perfect disguise not only to protect the veggies
from animals, but also poachers. I figured as soon as my Garden to God became
known in the public ether (as tweeted under #gardenofgod), great effort would
be made to steal items from the garden in hopes of reproducing such magnificence.
How foolish! Don't they know you can't fake Godliness!?! Losers.
3) Compost to add nutrients in the soil
"You...are...the compost of my life", is not only
the title lyric of my future hit love song, it also reflects the feelings I
have towards our compost pile. Where else can I walk through 90° heat and dump
the sloppy remains of yesterday's salad into a splatter-producing,
stink-generating, home-of-the-flies cube?It is an intense experience not to be underrated.
The fact that I use my grandpa's pitchfork from his farm
(probably early 50's era) to stir this concoction of wonderment is a testament
not only to my dedication as a husband, father, and gardener, but also a
statement of honoring my heritage of sharp and dangerous tools.
4) Organic seeds
The seeds I used were not only organic, they came directly
from our home. The pumpkins from last Halloween produced these pumpkins, the
tomatoes came from old tomatoes that grew moldy on our counter, and the
strawberries came from left-over fruit salad.
Further, the seeds were transported, by hand, and delicately
placed into the garden by Garden Nymphs (OK, our two 10 year old
girls kinda look like nymphs...and while it was just a chore to empty the slop
into the compost pile, having them carry it over is far more delicate than our
original transport idea: A deck-mounted slop cannon: simply fill the cannon
with slop, fire in the general direction of the compost bin (100 feet away),
and hope that at least some slop ended up in the compost. Hmm...must archive
this idea for a future summer day project).
Finally, each organic seed was painstakingly placed into the
garden at the optimum location for growth.The fact that it looks like the veggies grew out of the compost pile haphazardly?
SHEER COINCIDENCE!
5) Bountiful Harvest
In keeping with the original gaelic meaning, I focused on
"bountiful" to simply mean a large amount of output compared to a
small amount of input (or is that the definition of a guitar amplifier?). Since
the HINTERgarden required 0.045% of effort to produce six harvestable items (in
addition to strawberries that while ripe, grew directly IN the compost,
resulting in a small dry heave at the thought of eating them), I conclude this
is INDEED a bountiful harvest!
Now is your chance for your voice to be heard! Comment below
to state your opinion if the garden did, indeed fulfill all design
requirements (correct and truthful), or if I deserve not only a slug in the arm, but an elbow in the
gut (false and rather evil).
It all started with an inside joke referenced in a post, "Just got pics of my new guitar from my PRS Supplier".
It ended with a surprisingly passionate and uplifting song.
Here are the pics I posted:
I assumed everyone in my friends list knew that I joke regularly about my "addiction" to my guitars...that, for me, my passion for my guitars, and the music/worship/relationships that resulted from playing them are so core to my life that I can't imagine living without their influence (you know, small things like meeting my wife, traveling the world, life-long friends, leading others in worship, ...all directly resulted from playing guitar)
Naturally, since I found a guitar dealer who over the years I've grown to fully trust, and who helps me build an outstanding specimen (he seems to have a secret tunnel into the PRS factory, where he sets out the best wood and chooses the best builders), I can honestly say I have a supplier for my PRS guitars. This dealer, Jack Gretz, knows the kind of music I play so he offers suggestions as to what options and wood choices I should make to get the most out of my guitar.
Surprisingly, some comments in that original post made it clear not everyone was 'in' on the inside joke. I actually removed the post since I started to get some concerning comments about how I shouldn't take a scourge on society like drug addiction so lightly.
My first thought?
Write a tounge-in-cheek song using all the drug-use metaphors I could think of about how I'm addicted to this new guitar (you know, lyrics about breathing deep, holding my breath, holding my addiction between my fingers, seeing places I've never been, and, of course throwing in the suggestive comment or two about gliding my fingers across a g-string).
What did I end up with?
A surprisingly passionate and uplifting song that I completely adore.
I think I found a way to communicate what I feel when I play guitar...a sense of wonder, passion, exploration, and excitement that fills every fibre in my being...especially when I'm playing a new, freshly written song.
I hope I can live up to these lyrics in songs to come. and I hope you get a glimpse into what it feels like for me to play my guitar.
Electric Guitar Mics: close: Shure SM57; 3ft back: Rode NT1
Keyboard pad: XV-5080
Bass: RD-500
Recording Specifics:
The first version, acoustic-only, was the first one I recorded so I could see how the guitar sounded on its own. Here's the acoustic-only YouTube video:
Once I recorded that, I felt there was a lot of un-tapped energy I could release if I added more instruments. The version at the top of this post is the full version with drums, bass, and electric guitar. I could have added even more vocal harmonies, guitar solos, but I think this is a great blend of instruments to squeegee out the passion I wanted to convey without making the song too hard-rock. I really wanted to keep the acoustic a driving instrument through the song.
The tuning of the guitars was unique: C# - G# - C# - F# - A - C#
However, this let me chord on the 3-5th strings with normal fingerings, yet have the 1, 2, 6 strings ring open for much of the song, which gave it the full acoustic sound I was looking for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lyrics:
Verse 1:
Gonna breathe in
breathe deep
Slowly let out my breath
Go places I've never been
Gonna find love
Gonna find pain
Gonna find there's a secret for livin' this life
and I'm holding it in my hand
Chorus:
Gonna get high
High on this guitar
Gonna dig deeper
Down to the depths of who we really are
We'll play songs of laughter and tears
we'll play songs to lovers and friends we hold dear
and who knows what we'll find... when we're high
Verse 2:
Gonna sing out
Gonna sing loud
Sing with all my breath
with feelings I can't speak out
Sing about faith
Sing about peace
Sing from the depths of my inner most dreams
I might even have to scream
Chorus:
Gonna get high
High on this guitar
Gonna dig deeper
Down to the depths of who we really are
Lets touch our soul through these strings
Let this wood carry our heart when it rings
'Cause who knows what we'll find... when we're high
Do you love a good rock song as much as I do? I simply love the energy, the guitars, and the memories that flourish when a favorite rock 'n roll song hits the radio (too 20th century? sorry...let me rephrase), ...when a favorite song appears in your playlist after a mathematical algorithm determines among the 13,437 songs that today, right now, this second, you should hear "Hot For Teacher" that was ripped from the vinyl record you purchased in 1984 and hid under your bed because the cover showing an angel smoking a cigarette was example #285 your dad would use as to why this music was "of the devil".
The problem?
The four kids in the back seat when the aforementioned song starts playing.
They're young but not stupid.
Given 45 seconds, they'll figure out what the song means and realize that you do NOT spend every waking moment focused on the finer points of Calvinistic Eschatology like you want them to believe.
The solution?
HINTER-apologetics!
Simply put, this is the ancient skill of defining and defending the HINTER-meaning of the songs you love so that the listener (your kids) hears long-lasting, valuable lessons, while you can rock out to "Ice-Cream Man".
Lets run through some recent examples of HINTER-apologetics so you can see how it works. In this case, hearing these songs while flying down the highway with the kids in the back seat...
"Back in Black", By: AC/DC (1980)
You see kids, the 1980's brought new fashion trends. The 70's were filled with bright colors and pastel shapes. AC/DC had great fashion insight, what with school uniforms and scottish caps. This was simply a cry for sensibility, formalism, and the color black. It just works for all occasions.
What's that? The lyric, "Of a Cadillac Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack"? Why that merely a poet exploring the use of the sound "ack", which in 16th century Hedonic culture was a praise to the Lord.
In fact, some philosophers propose that Brian Johnson (lyric writer, lead singer) was the brother of C.S. Lewis who wanted to escape from his brother's stuffy persona, and who later regularly traded places with C.S. Lewis himself!
"Paradise By The Dashboard Lights", By: Meatloaf (1977)
Listen closely, my dear children, and learn the influence of corporate america. This song by Mr. Loaf (whose father was a farmer and the inventor of modern beef processing), was pure marketing genius! Unknown to most, Mr. Loaf spent his early years selling "Paradise", a line of all-weather sweaters...specifically meant to wear on summer nights. Unfortunately, he struggled to make a dent in the summer-sweater fashion market.
One day after the Paradise Sweater Inc. quarterly earnings meeting, he had a brainstorm. "What if I make an 8 minute commercial and disguised it as a real song!?!". The rest is history. Take a listen to some of the lyrics:
"Though it's cold and lonely in the deep, dark night, I can see Paradise by the dashboard light" - an obvious and blunt effort to market his Paradise sweaters to fashion-concious truck drivers (those tractor-trailor dashboards are lit up like a runway and made the Paradise sweater sparkle like a diamond!).
What's that? the lyric, "Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed. 'Cause we were barely seventeen and barely dressed"? Why, that simply refers to the exquisite feel of the Paradise sweater...they felt smooth, they felt tight, they felt so good...they felt so right. This 8 minute commercial used metaphor to suggest a consumer could wear a Paradise sweater, feel young, and not worry about what else they wore because all attention would be on their Paradise sweater.
In a tragic turn of events, the week before the commercial's release, the Paradise Sweater Factory was overrun by bats...which was a rare occurrence in Hell, Michigan. The bats were transferred out of the city, but not before all sweaters were ruined.
"What Do You Do for Money Honey", By: AC/DC (1980)
Ah. A favorite from the Back in Black album, but not the most popular. You see kids, the Young brothers fore-saw the 'me' decade of the 80's coming, and deftly and introspectively asked the future graduates of 1987, "What, in fact, do you do for money? Is Money what you will focus on? Do you not see value in your relationships, serving society, and working for the greater good?" (HINTER paraphrase). Angus was Gandhi in knickers.
What's that? The lyric, "Never gonna give it for free"? Why, that is a scathing commentary on the lack of community service and volunteerism. The "IT" refers to your time, skills, values, and most searingly, your heart.
"Pour Some Sugar On Me", By: Def Leppard (1988)
You see kids, children's music comes in all forms. This song is the endearing story of a strawberry named Razzle and a raspberry named Dazzle who sneak into a candy factory to make their favorite dessert: Peaches and Cream. We soon learn that Razzle loves television because when it's turned off they can dance and see their reflection...like a mirror. While in the factory, Razzle sees a display and starts dancing, and rascly Dazzle sneaks up and pours sugar on Razzle!
Razzle decides that dancing while making their dessert was an improvement and throughout the song encourages Dazzle to pour all the dessert ingredients on top of her to optimize the mixing process.
What's that? The lyric, "Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet; Little miss innocent sugar me; Take a bottle, shake it up; Break the bubble, break it up"? Why, that's recipie instructions for the parent to remake the Peaches and Cream treat after this sweet, innocent, song-for-the-ages story is over.
How lovely such a wholesome song can still be heard by youngsters today.
Congratulations! You are well on your way to becoming an expert in HINTER-apologetics. Next time we will cover advanced topics, including:
Adding illustrations to reinforce that "Love in an Elevator" by Aerosmith is really describing how the heart of a child has ups and downs and depends on his fathers sacrificial love to see them through the various floors of adolescence.
Hot for Teacher: Van Halen's tireless effort to improve education using allegory and acronyms
1999: The push for a capitalistic society by Prince, Warren Buffett's secret financial advisor
~~~~
Question: What rock song do you love? What HINTER-apologetics would you apply?
This concert was a "Full Circle" type of experience.
Here's my ticket stub to the 11-27-2011 George Winston concert:
And here's my program to the very first George Winston concert I attended:
For both of them, Karyn sat by my side.
It's just for the first one, it was the very first date Karyn and I went on.
Nearly 25 years ago to the day, I asked Karyn out for a date. We met earlier in May '86, and in what will have to be a deliciously fun future post, we had a VERY interesting summer of music, Valley Fair, relationship-drama, church, 4th of July poster-making, midnight excursions, and...the "other" boyfriend.
At her madrigals and choir Christmas concert in the Ridgedale center court, I asked Karyn to the George Winston show. My logic was that even if she was not sure, she'd probably say yes to an expensive concert so it would at minimum get me one date :-) (just enough to let her experience my HinterMOJO)
Luckily she said yes, and in Dec 23, 1986, we went to Orchestra Hall and listened to George. I sat on her right, and I remember holding her hand for the first time and putting my arm around her (which, I quickly learned, is NOT a comfortable position for your arm to be in on its own...but when it's surrounding a creature like Karyn, it becomes totally worth it)
From that first date, to now...25 years later, we have traveled on a crazy-lovely-dramatic-musical adventure, and I wouldn't trade a second with this lady.
The music that George played at this latest concert brought us back to our early dating. Funny how music can be such a potent memory and emotional amplifier. I probably hadn't heard some of that music by Karyn's side since the last George Winston concert.
His playing is so clear, crisp, and dynamic. Sometimes he play loud and it sounds like a guitar amp in over drive. His pianissimo is so quiet, but has complete clarity. When he needs it even softer, he reaches into the Steinway 9' grand, mutes the strings with his palm, and continues to play... evoking images of scampering autumn creatures. Sometimes he'll pluck the individual strings for a sitar effect.
Simply amazing. His playing seems to reflect the life Karyn and I have formed:
Sometimes we're snoopy-dancing...
Sometimes we're curled up in a cold December night listening to the wind...
Sometimes we're exploring the forest...sometimes lost and a little scared...sometimes in awe at the life that surrounds us...
...and sometimes we're emerging from winter into spring...and enjoying every essence of life.
But always she fills my life with beauty, wonder, and love.
I've said it many times before, but to sum up, she simply adds the sparkle to my life.
If you have never heard George Winston's music, take it for a spin. December is my favorite album (probably because it was our favorite) but he's got a lot of great work.
Thanks George, for a great concert, and great memories.
My last post showed what I'm thinking when my girls are doing great in a gymnastics meet. This post shows the other side. I wrote this a month ago, after one girl qualified for the MN State Championships, and one did not...and after the daily early-morning training started to get to me...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm a gymnast dad...
I cheer, "Go! You can do it!" before their event
"Way to go!! Good job!!!" after
I keep quiet 'during' so I don't distract
I keep score...
I shout encouragement at event warm-up
If they're sitting by an exit door I'll walk to get a drink so I can whisper good vibes in their ear
But...
Inside I feel completely helpless
They bobble, I get worried
They fall, I wince, and hope the video doesn't pick up my whispered curses
My internal dialog constantly debates the cost/benefit analysis
...on family
...on income
...on free time
Is that cost worth this performance?
I second-guess the whole commitment
I want them to be rock-stars
...when they're not...when they struggle...I get mad
Not at them, but frustrated they didn't do better
Usually one does better than the other
...which is most of the time
I hate that
I feel great for one, terrible for the other
I end up falling into spiraling frustration
I don't push them
Quite the opposite: I ask if they want to quit...to their face
I ask if they love it
...because if they don't, well, it's back to the cost/benefit analysis
What do they say?
They LOVE it!
They love everything about it
"Gymnast" is their identity
They're working harder than I've seen anyone work at their skills and fitness
I'm amazed at their dedication of daily wake-up for 2 hour before-school training
Their time management for homework, fun, family, training is outstanding
They are becoming young women of character
I'm finding it is worth every penny for them
Me?
In theory the early wake-up is good
2 hours of uninterrupted focus on work
I just don't know if I can sustain it...
I'm so completely tired
Fatigue has set in
It affects my health, mood, outlook...temper
maybe there's something else lurking...
Midlife? Loss of purpose? Lack of worth?
(Maybe I should take up gymnastics)
I feel inadequate...especially at the meets
I'm bombarded by the constant noise of the crowd and floor music
I fumble through conversations
The parents around me seem so much more 'with it'
They're living their dream job, engaged in their kids, balancing it all
They talk, they laugh, they plan outings
Me?
I keep quiet...
I keep score...
I cheer for my girls...
I pray for their safety (oh God, I pray they don't fall on their neck)
At our girlies latest gymnastics event, I heard a lot of "good luck" messages read over the PA just before our girls meet. These are personal messages parents write to their little competitors, then some lady shouts them into the microphone (in a surprising monotone delivery) in hopes that the gymnasts hear a spark of support. I suppose it's to encourage the young ladies to do the best they can.
Some examples:
"Good luck, Sally. We love you. Mom and dad"
Or
"Brittany, you're a rock star! We know you'll do great. Grandpa"
Of course being a HINTER, I feel these messages should be more impacting...something to give these athletes real focus to give their routines something extra. Basically, to help them find their inner HINTERmojo.
Therefore, I give you:
HINTERgrams - 2011 Edition
First, I'd start off with the basics:
"Sally, Good luck! ...You'll need it. Dad"
Or
"Lucy, let's hope that star in the East can pull off another miracle. Love Dad"
Then, I'd add some loving truth:
"Sally, you're just not that good. Get used to disappointment. Love Dad"
Or
"Lucy, your dog just died. Just thought you should know. Good luck!"
Next, I'd add some positive motivational themes:
"Sally, if you ever want to see your hamster alive again, get a 9 on floor"
Or
"Lucy, remember how sad I was when Nanna died? If you don't place in the top 3 the wounds will open again. Love you. Dad"
Finally, I'd wrap it up with a personal touch:
"Sally, while I'm still sober, I want to say good luck. I love you...at least today I do"
Or
"Lucy, if it weren't for your 'competitive calling', I'd be whipping down the interstate in my Nissan Roadster. You'd better do well today. Love Dad"
Of course, it's not only the athletes that need motivation. It's the judges. First I'd start with the must-have-been-an-honest-mistake:
"Dear vault judge: did you write 6 while meaning 9, or are you taking out your lack of life-purpose on my 10 year old? "
Then I'd utilize peer-pressure:
"Dear beam judge: I just Googled it 5 minutes ago, and I can score better than you. Those toes were pointier than the hat you wear!"
Finally, I would compose a message hand-crafted utilizing the finest skills from my years of education, communication, writing experience:
"Dear floor judge: Bite Me"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There you go. Use just a few of these HINTERgrams and you will become a better parent-spectator at any sport. Soon the crowd will cheer louder for you than the athletes...which, of course...is the goal of any parent.
Background:
To be honest, this song is a bit sobering to me.
Don't get me wrong. I love it. I enjoyed composing, recording it, and the images in the video are fantastic. I love how well my son played percussion and sang in it (more on that below). Most of all, I love how happy it makes me and my boy when we watch it.
But...
It also shows the amazing human I’m responsible for. This creature is creative. He loves exploring, loves experimenting, inventing, and loves collecting things (and, of course, putting them in his pockets). I've said before his brain is crazy smart, and his drive for immersed experiences, to passionately satisfy his curiosity, it all makes me worry:
1) That I'll suppress his true potential
2) That he'll rebel trying to show he's worth my praise
3) That I'll not guide him well enough to hone his skills/temper/passion towards his God-given purpose
When he was 3, I thought his smiles were because he LOVED pockets. He always stuffed his hands in his pockets and walk around. He loved stuffing whatever he found in them, and he especially loved pulling that stuff out to share what he collected.
Now, as he’s gotten older, his love for exploring, experimenting, collecting, and sharing has grown. I can't tell you how many times he walks through the kitchen matter-of-factly stating "I'm going to build a machine" or...even more scary...walks through with a hammer and saw without saying a word. His love for life, to find out how the world ticks, how so many amazing creatures and things can be discovered…well, it shows me that his love of pockets only represents his inner passion for life...and maybe his need to prove his worth to his dad.
I've said many times (thanks to Dennis Miller for the analogy) that my primary job in life is to guide my kids through the rocky shoals of youth...sometimes with firm direction...so that they can avoid the sharp rocks and hidden dangers that can wreck their life (but not too firm, lest they over-correct and slam into the far wall of rebellion). The goal? Get them to the open sea, watch their sails catch wind, and stand on the shore amazed as they maneuver through the rolling ocean with skill, passion, and success.
I only hope that with Jaxon...my very best is good enough. My fear is that while I'm guiding him through the sharp rocks of youth, and avoiding the under currents that could pull him under, he will see past the current to a unique adventure that, if navigated properly, will propel him past the dangerous passage and he will collect another life skill (and more character) that will be essential in the open ocean.
I love you, little man.
I will guide you through these narrow shoals of youth the best I can.
I know we will not see eye-to-eye all the time, but know that I love you deeply, and am already proud beyond words.
When the time comes, you will reach the open ocean. Your momentum from wise choices and experiences will propel you into deep waters. You will raise your sails, lower your rudder, and instantly cut into the wind to travel wherever you and your faith takes you.
I can’t wait to see what you’ll do…
…what you’ll discover
…what you’ll invent
…who you’ll love
...where you'll live
...what you'll collect
...and...of course...
...what you’ll pull out of your pockets to show me.
Whatever it is, I know I'll be amazed, impressed, proud, and filled with love.
And then?
We'll smi-----le. Because you ARE, and forever will be, a pocket man.
Recording Specifics:
When I get the itch to record a song, it usually happens fairly quickly. That was the case for this song. I originally wrote the first verse in 2007 and in August 2011 decided I needed to record it. I spent a few days adding verse 2 and the bridge based on suggestions from Jaxon.
As I was mapping out the song, I had planned on a solo, but it didn't feel right (I guess that means I'm old enough to let the song tell me what it needs...rather than my ego to show off). With no solo, I needed a way to make the last chorus unique. In a brainstorm, I decided Jack needed to sing it. But would he? I didn't know. He is VERY shy when it comes to getting a lot of attention. But as you saw in the video, he was very happy to ham it up. We decided that what he doesn't like is attention he did not initiate or seek.
As you heard, he did great!
He then asked to play percussion. He found music sticks, egg shaker, and tambourine in my percussion shelf. He laid them out on a chair and said "I want to play sticks in the beginning, shaker in the bridge, and tambourine in the last chorus and end."
So...he did. In ONE TAKE he kept rhythm, switched instruments, and monitored his own volume by looking at the recording track to make sure he didn't go into the red too much.
The end 'banter' was another brainstorm. Jaxon and I poured through his room for things he found in his pocket over the months, then I wrote the script. Turns out it was too difficult putting the items in time with the music stand, so we recorded that part separately (and slower) then I synched the video with audio in post-production.
Not only am I happy with the song and video itself, but I'm thrilled with the time I got to spend with my little pocket man.
Verse 2: Here's my toad, it's from a pocket in my pants Next to the frog, and my sandwich, and some ants I put my hands right into my pockets and pull out my gum and my sand I put my hands right into my pockets and smile 'Cause I'm a Pocket Man
Bridge: If it's shiny, Or slimy, Or sharp, round, fuzzy or tiny I put them into my pockets, cause they're useful when I'm playing around Some day I think I'll empty my pockets out But right now I stuff more in to keep things from jumping out!
Verse 3: My name is Jack, and I got pockets in my pants I put stuff in, into the pockets of my pants I put my hands right into my pockets and pull out whatever I can I put my hands right into my pockets and smile... 'Cause I'm a Pocket Man
