Today is a major holiday! Today is the day that Iowa State plays Minnesota in the Insight Bowl! I thought I would celebrate this major holiday by sharing some of my favorite pictures from the season.
It is one of the greatest days of the year. Today would be a great day to wear a Cyclone hoodie! After all, they aren’t just for family events!
Proust Quote:
“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.”
Confessions Question:
Your main fault.
Confidences Question:
My main fault.
Proust’s Answer:
Not knowing, not being able to “want”.
Ye be warned, any that go much further. What lies below is discussion of the movie Gone Baby Gone. If you haven’t seen the movie and don’t wish for the ending to be spoiled for ye, stop reading right now!
The offense that I’m about to admit to is not easy for somebody that is as extremely manly as I am to confess. I have come to realize in the last few months that my greatest fault is that I am too emotional.
I have been reassured that being this way is a “good thing”, but I am not without my doubts.
For example, on two separate occasions this year, I reacted to situations at a very visceral level. I don’t want to go into details about those situations, but one time it took the counsel of very good friends to prevent me from making what would have ultimately been a huge blunder. The second situation caused me to send a profane text message to my eldest sister. Perhaps the first time she has heard me utter such filth. I think you all know how I feel about base language and why I feel that way.
Even more than those situations, I think I can pinpoint my reaction to the movie Gone Baby Gone as when I realized how emotional some of my reactions have become.
Gone Baby Gone is a 2007 movie directed by Ben Affleck. I know that makes it sound awful, but it turns out that as bad as Affleck is as an actor, he is a pretty good director.
I am fairly dreadful at writing up a synopsis of books or movies, so I lifted a synopsis from the Internet Movie Database:
The tough private eye Patrick Kenzie was raised in a poor and dangerous neighborhood of Boston, and works with his partner and girlfriend Angie Gennaro generally tracking missing losers in debt. When the four year-old Amanda McCready is abducted from her apartment, her aunt Beatrice ‘Bea’ McCready calls the police and the press, and the case is highlighted with the spots by the media. Then Bea hires the reluctant Patrick to work in the case because he is not a cop and based on his great knowledge of their neighborhood. Meanwhile Capt. Jack Doyle, who lost his own daughter many years ago and is in charge of the investigation, assigns detectives Remy Bressant and Nick Pole to give the necessary support to Patrick. After interviewing the addicted low life mother of Amanda, Helene McCready, Patrick goes to a bar and discloses that Helene was on the streets with her boyfriend Skinny Ray Likanski dealing and using drugs on the day Amanda disappeared. Along his investigation, Patrick faces smalltime criminals, drug dealers, pedophiles and corruption, facing a moral issue to solve the case.
The first time I watched this movie I was outraged by the ending of the movie. I don’t mind a movie having a sad and/or depressing ending. Some of my favorite movies are Once, The Ox-Bow Incident, Paths of Glory…
But at the end of this movie, one character that I had grown to love makes the wrong decision. A very wrong decision. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind that he made the right decision. That was until I began discussing this movie with other people. I quickly found out that I am the only person that thinks that Patrick Kenzie makes the wrong decision at the end of the movie.
Well, almost the only person.
But as I reflected on the movie some more, I realized that Patrick actually makes 2 moral decisions. Then after discussing the movie extensively I came to realize that there is actually a third moral decision that other characters in the movie make that I never even considered whether or not they were right or if they were wrong. I instinctively knew what I thought was right, but as it turns out, I am also in the minority on this as well.
As it turns out, the only person to agree with me (that I have found) on these 3 moral dilemmas 100% is Jill. Everybody else seems to disagree with me 100%.
I am going to do some extensive quoting of the movie Gone Baby Gone and it does contain quite a bit of profanity. I apologize if this offends anybody’s delicate sensibilities, but that is the way it has to be.
Gone Baby Gone starts with this line of dialogue. I don’t know if it is particularly relevant to this discussion, but it sets the stage for Patrick’s personal code of morality.
Patrick Kenzie: I always believed it was the things you don’t choose that makes you who you are. Your city, your neighborhood, your family. People here take pride in these things, like it was something they’d accomplished. The bodies around their souls, the cities wrapped around those. I lived on this block my whole life; most of these people have. When your job is to find people who are missing, it helps to know where they started. I find the people who started in the crack and then fell through. This city can be hard. When I was young, I asked my priest how you could get to heaven and still protect yourself from all the evil in the world. He told me what God said to His children: “You are sheep among wolves. Be wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves.”
When Amanda McCready is kidnapped, her aunt and uncle hire Patrick and his girlfriend Angie to augment the investigation. Amanda’s mom Helene is a drug addict and a terrible parent. Imagine all of the Wal-Mart parents you have seen in your life. Now multiply that by 10.
Angie does not want to take the case:
Angie: We have a good life, right?
Patrick: Is that a trick question?
Angie: I don’t wanna find their little kid in a dumpster.
Patrick: Maybe she’s not in a dumpster, babe.
Angie: I don’t wanna find a little kid after they’ve been abused for three days.
Patrick: Hon, nobody does.
Patrick and Angie meet up with the police that are assigned to keep them in the loop and find out that the only lead the cops have is a pedophile that has dropped off the police radar.
Detective Remy Bressant: Corwin Earle. Serial molester, recently work-release. Went AWOL around the time Amanda disappeared.
Detective Poole: Known associates – Leon Trett and his handsome wife, Roberta. The Tretts were released six and eight months ago, respectively. They have drug habits. We don’t know where they are, but we think Corwin’s with them. Jailhouse snitch claims that Corwin confided in him and told him when he got out, he was gonna move in with his family. Apparently, the three of them have some kind of Addams Family deal going on.
Bressant: Corwin’s plan is to keep a kid in the house to have sex with.
Patrick: Well, that sounds promising.
Bressant: Not for Amanda, it doesn’t.
Through Patrick and Amanda’s investigation they learn that Helene wasn’t at her neighbor’s house on the night that Amanda was kidnapped. She was down at the Fillmore (think Wilson’s Tap if you are from Boone or Deano’s if you are from Ames) doing drugs. They also learn that Helene and her boyfriend robbed a local drug dealer named Cheese. With the blessing of Bressant and Poole, Patrick and Angie approach Cheese in an attempt to broker at trade: the stolen money for Amanda.
Cheese denies he has Amanda and turns down the offer.
Cheese: You got my money, you leave that shit in the mailbox on your ass way out, you feel me? Some mother fuckers let fool rob on them. I don’t play scrimmage. But I don’t fuck with no kids. And if that girl only hope is you, well, I pray for her, because she’s gone, baby. Gone.
Later Cheese calls in and brokers a deal with Bressant. But the deal is intercepted by Captain Jack Doyle. He does not want to go through with the deal, but feels obligated to, since to welch on the deal would put Amanda’s life in danger.
Jack Doyle: Do you have any children, Miss Gennaro?
Angie: No, sir.
Doyle: My only child was murdered. She was twelve. Did you hear about it? What you probably didn’t hear, and what I hope you never have to deal with, Miss Gennaro, is what that feels like. What I have to deal with. Knowing that my little girl likely died crying out for me to come and save her. And I never did. My little girl died afraid and alone in a shallow ditch bank by the side of the road, not ten minutes from my house. I know what it feels like to lose a child. Now damn it, you force my hand and then you question the way I handle it.
Bressant: No one’s questioning you, sir.
Doyle: I honor my child with this division. So that no parent has to go through what I’ve known. This child. That all I care about. I’m gonna bring her home.
The deal doesn’t go as planned. Amanda ends up falling to her death. Captain Doyle is forced to resign. Patrick and Angie are forced to live with the guilt of not being able to save Amanda.
Life starts to normalize when another kid goes missing. This time, nobody comes looking to hire Patrick and Amanda. But after a few days, Patrick is approached by his friend (a local drug dealer) who has found Corwin Earle.
Patrick contacts Bressant and Doyle. They approach the house where Corwin Earle is living. Shots come from the house and Doyle is killed. Patrick goes inside the house and finds the body of the kidnapped child. He was raped to death.
Patrick shoots Corwin Earle in the back of the head while he pleads for his life. Afterwards, Patrick is treated like a hero by Angie and Bressant.
Angie: They told me what happened. I’m proud of you. That man killed a child. He had no right to live.
Patrick: You’re proud of me?
Angie: Of course I am. You did what you had to do.
Later…
Patrick: They say how old the boy was?
Bressant: Seven.
Patrick: Second grade.
Bressant: Should be proud of yourself. Most guys would’ve stayed outside.
Patrick: I don’t know.
Bressant: What don’t you know?
Patrick: My priest says shame is God telling you what you did was wrong.
Bressant: Fuck him.
Patrick: Murder’s a sin.
Bressant: Depends on who you do it to.
Later…
Bressant: I planted evidence on a guy once, back in ’95. We were paying $100 an eight ball to snitches. We got a call from our pal Ray Likanski. He couldn’t find enough guys to rat out. Anyway, he tells us there’s a guy pumping up in an apartment up in Columbia Point. We go in, me and Nicky. Fifteen years ago., when Nicky went in, it was no joke. So it’s a… it’s a stash house, right? The old lady’s beat to shit, the husband’s mean, cracked out, trying to give us trouble, Nicky lays him down. We’re doing an inventory, but it looks like we messed up because there’s no dope in the house, and I go in the back room. Now, this place was a shithole, mind you? Rats, roaches, all over the place. But the kid’s room, in the back, was spotless. No, I mean, he swept it, mopped it; it was immaculate. The little boy’s sitting on the bed, holding onto his playstation for dear life. There’s no expression on his face, tears streaming down. He wants to tell me he just learned his multiplication tables.
Patrick: Christ.
Bressant: I mean, the father’s got him in this crack den, subsisting on twinkies and ass-whippings, and this little boy just wants someone to tell him that he’s doing a good job. You’re worried what’s Catholic? I mean, kids forgive. Kids don’t judge. Kids turn the other cheek. What do they get for it? So I went back out there and put an ounce of heroin on the living room floor and sent the father for a ride, seven to life.
Patrick: That was the right thing?
Bressant: Fucking A! You gotta take a side. You molest a child, you beat a child, you’re not on my side. If you see me coming, you better run, because I am gonna lay you the fuck down! Easy.
Patrick: Don’t feel easy.
As Patrick reflects on these events he figures out that it was actually Bressant and Amanda’s uncle that kidnapped her. This leads to a shootout where Bressant is killed.
Patrick and Angie visit Captain Doyle and discover that Amanda didn’t actually fall to her death. It was an elaborate ruse to fake her death and that she was now living with Doyle and his wife.
Patrick has to make a decision. To turn in Doyle and return Amanda to her wretched mother where her chances of having a successful life are practically zero. Or let her remain kidnapped where she will be loved, pampered and spoiled.
Despite the pleadings of Doyle and Angie, Patrick decides to turn Doyle in and return Amanda to her mother.
Patrick: I’m calling state police in five minutes. They’ll be here in ten.
Doyle: Thought you would’ve done that by now. You know why you haven’t? Because you think this might be an irreparable mistake. Because deep inside you, you know that it doesn’t matter what the rules say. When the lights go out, and you ask yourself “is she better off here or better off there”, you know the answer. And you always will. You… you could do a right thing here. A good thing. Men live their whole lives without getting this chance. You walk away from it, you may not regret it when you get home. You may not regret it for a year, but when you get to where I am, I promise you, you will. I’ll be dead, you’ll be old. But she… she’ll be dragging around a couple of tattered, damaged children of her own, and you’ll be the one who has to tell them you’re sorry.
Patrick: You know what? Maybe that’ll happen. And if it does, I’ll tell them I’m sorry and I’ll live with it. But what’s never gonna happen and what I’m not gonna do is have to apologize to a grown woman who comes to me and says: “I was kidnapped when I was a little girl, and my aunt hired you to find me. And you did, you found me with some strange family. But you broke your promise and you left me there. Why? Why didn’t you bring me home? Because all the snacks and the outfits and the family trips don’t matter. They stole me. It wasn’t my family and you knew about it and you knew better and you did nothing”. And maybe that grown woman will forgive me, but I’ll never forgive myself.
Doyle: I did what I did for the sake of the child. All right. For me, too. But now, I’m asking you for the sake of the child. I’m begging you. You think about it.
Patrick pays a heavy price for turning in Doyle. Angie leaves him. In the end of the movie it seems like he puts himself in a guardian angel position over Amanda. Watching over her to see that she will be okay.
There are 3 moral issues in this movie as I see it. The first one I thought about when this movie was over was whether or not Patrick did the right thing.
One of the weekends that Jill was back from Minnesota, we went over to Jen and Derrick’s to watch a movie on their Blu-ray player. Derrick’s dad gave Jen and Derrick a Blu-ray player when they moved into their new house in January. I believe this movie watching night was the Saturday following Thanksgiving. It has been 11 months and they still had not watched a movie on their Blu-ray player. This is quite the tragedy in my mind.
I was given the power of selecting the movie on this evening. I chose Gone Baby Gone. Jill chose Full Metal Jacket as a backup.
We might have ended up watching both movies, but the first part of the evening was devoted to watching the Iowa State-Northwestern debacle. Thankfully that is far behind us now.
After watching the movie, I posed the following question to Derrick, Jen and Jill: Did Patrick do the right thing at the end of the movie?
Derrick and Jen thought that Patrick had done the right thing.
Jill agreed with me. Patrick had done the wrong thing.
Then I asked them if Patrick had done the right thing when he executed the pedophile.
Derrick and Jen thought he had done the wrong thing.
Jill agreed with me that he had done the right thing.
However, this is how I think that I am too emotional. Philosophically, I want to be opposed to the death penalty. I want to think that all life is precious. I want to think that I am evolved to a point where I don’t believe in vigilante justice. One of my all-time favorite movies is The Ox-Bow Incident. A movie that is about a posse that lynches 3 innocent men.
The movie ends with a member of the posse reading a letter that one of the innocent men has written to his wife. Writing the letter is one of the last things he gets to do before he his hung. That scene is one of the most beautiful movie scenes I have ever seen. The letter reads like this:
My dear Wife, Mr. Davies will tell you what’s happening here tonight. He’s a good man and has done everything he can for me. I suppose there are some other good men here, too, only they don’t seem to realize what they’re doing. They’re the ones I feel sorry for. ‘Cause it’ll be over for me in a little while, but they’ll have to go on remembering for the rest of their lives. A man just naturally can’t take the law into his own hands and hang people without hurtin’ everybody in the world, ’cause then he’s just not breaking one law but all laws. Law is a lot more than words you put in a book, or judges or lawyers or sheriffs you hire to carry it out. It’s everything people ever have found out about justice and what’s right and wrong. It’s the very conscience of humanity. There can’t be any such thing as civilization unless people have a conscience, because if people touch God anywhere, where is it except through their conscience? And what is anybody’s conscience except a little piece of the conscience of all men that have ever lived? I guess that’s all I’ve got to say except kiss the babies for me and God bless you. Your husband, Donald.
I love the line, “if people touch God anywhere, where is it except through their conscience?”
Philosophically I want to think. “Just bring him in Patrick. Let the justice system handle him.”
But do I really think, “Shoot him Patrick”? You’re damn right I do! That is clearly an emotional response that I can’t override with my powerful intellect.
It was during this discussion that Jen said something that really stuck with me. In fact, it completely blindsided me. I am paraphrasing, but she said:
“Morgan Freeman’s character (Doyle) didn’t have much compassion for Amanda’s mother. He knew the pain of losing a child and he was willing to put somebody else through it.”
It was a Saturday night when she said that. I thought about that for a long time. Of all the characters in the movie, I have the most in common with Doyle, but this is something that had never once even dawned on me. It never occurred to me that somebody might think that what the kidnapper’s had done was wrong. How can giving a child a chance at a decent life be wrong?
I told Jen and Derrick that I had one more Gone Baby Gone question for them.
On that Monday I talked to Jill and asked her if she thought that what the kidnappers had done was wrong.
She agreed with me that what the kidnappers had done was dumb and not the best way to handle the situation, but it was still right.
That Wednesday was Iowa State’s embarrassing performance against UNI. I already had tickets for the game, so Jen took my season ticket and sat with Derrick. At halftime I went over to talk to them. Jen asked me what was my 1 more Gone Baby Gone question.
I asked them if they thought that the kidnappers had done the wrong thing.
They said that they did think the kidnappers had done the wrong thing. Just because somebody doesn’t deserve to be a parent, doesn’t give somebody else the right to take their children.
I can see their point intellectually. I understand the reason for the rule of law, even though I don’t think people should follow laws that are contrary to their moral code, but I disagree.
I look around and see people who shouldn’t be parents and my base emotional response is why not take their kids from them and give them to people who deserve to be parents. People who would actually love the kids and raise them to be proper adults.
Then I think about Derrick’s keen insight. He pointed out that the whole movie can be boiled down to one scene involving Patrick and Bressant:
Bressant: Would you do it again? Clip Corwin Earle?
Patrick: No.
Bressant: Does that make you right?
Patrick: I don’t know.
Bressant: It doesn’t make it wrong though.
I think on my emotional responses to outside stimuli and I tell myself again: “It is a good thing”. My emotional response to that is, “Maybe it is.”
Proust Quote:
“Happiness serves hardly any other purpose than to make unhappiness possible.”
Confessions Question:
Your idea of happiness
Confidences Question:
My dream of happiness.
Proust’s Answer:
I am afraid it be not great enough, I dare not speak it, I am afraid of destroying it by speaking it.
That Proust sure was a coward. “I am afraid of destroying it…” But he was from France and that is a country that isn’t exactly known for its courage.
However, I think there is some truth in the quote that happiness exists to make unhappiness possible. I think it is closer to the truth to say that unhappiness makes the experience of happiness richer. I would also argue that unhappiness is at its lowest depth before happiness arrives. But happiness is a much more powerful (although frailer) emotion than unhappiness. A little drop of happiness blows unhappiness out of the water.
There is a misery questionnaire question where I will repeat this basic information, but I think in general terms, the greatest misery is in waiting for a certain thing to happen. The greatest happiness is when that certain thing happens. That certain thing might not ever happen, therefore a person sometimes has to come to acceptance.
There are certainly things that make me happy. One of them ends frequently with the phrase “Sweet dreams.”
I have two friends that are diametrically opposed on the concept of dreams. One friend believes that dreams are an intricate part of life. They should be held up and examined every day and they should be pursued with every breath of your being. If you call his phone, the voicemail message will tell you that you have reached, “Dreams, Incorporated.” It is not a real company, so don’t give him any money. You won’t get it back. But your money will help him pursue his dreams.
This friend’s philosophy on dreams would best be summed up by the Marcel Proust quote:
“If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.”
The other friend thinks that it is pointless to pursue dreams because dreams can’t become reality. He once noted that he couldn’t “grow bat wings” in reality. All this talk about dreams is a humbug!
This friend’s philosophy on dreams would be best summed up by the Baltasar Gracian quote:
“Dreams will get you nowhere, a good kick in the pants will take you a long way.”
My philosophy lies somewhere in the middle. I certainly believe that dreams are worth pursuing. To not have aspirations or goals leads to somewhat of an aimless existence, but perhaps I don’t follow my dreams with the type of vigor that Friend One does.
If dreams are (what I think they are) our ideas of perfect happiness, then these are a few of my dreams:
Some of these are attainable dreams. Some of them are in the “bat wing” category.
To hear Jay say, “Want to come over and watch a completed version of Games 2 tonight?”
To hear Willy say, “And this is my beautiful wife…”
To hear Shannon say, “Wow! You organized that really well. If this is the caliber of person that Iowa State University produces, I should root for their athletic teams when they play anybody but my beloved UNI Panthers.”
To hear Geri D. say, “Opening night for the One Act play you wrote will be…”
To hear Jen say, “Maybe the dogs don’t like being dressed up.”
To hear Derrick say, “Yeah, Pink Floyd called and they want to open for us on our European Tour. I told them we would get back to them.”
To hear Jill say, “I think I have changed my mind… feet are funny, not gross!”
To hear Sara say, “I looked in the mirror and decided, I didn’t need that Hello Kitty humidifier.”
To hear Monica say, “I just don’t have room for all these paintings I have done. Here, take about 5-10 of these off my hands.”
To hear Baier say, “I really shouldn’t be that emotionally invested in a pro sports team in a city that is 3 hours away from where I live. I think I’m going to take that wasted energy and train my dog to be less racist. Perhaps research unicorn blood in my spare time.”
To hear Russell say, “I don’t even know why I ever even question anything you say about sports, politics, movies or life. Mr. Bennett, I am in awe of you. In the future, when you speak, I will sit silently and keep notes. It is my greatest fear that some of your wisdom will be lost to the following generations.”
To hear Nader say, “The new Harry Potter movie was pretty good.”
To hear Andree say, “Maybe I have too many televisions. 7 is a lot for 1 guy.”
To hear Scottie D. say, “I apologize for ever questioning your commitment to tenderloins. You may hit me one time.”
To hear Eric say, “Dogs are really better than cats. I don’t know why I couldn’t see that before.”
To hear Jesse say, “I’ve thought about it. Maybe I should worship somebody that actually gets some playing time during the Olympics, rather than that creepy looking Finch girl.”
There are more, but I might be on happiness overload just thinking on my dreams.
I’ve posted a few pictures from the Iowa State’s last two home games in the Snapshots Gallery.
A few of my favorites from the Oklahoma State game…
James Smith and Banks
This picture might be a statement on the one sided nature of this game, but while watching the water girls we determined that Oklahoma State has a disturbing hierarchy in their water girls. Certain water girls were allowed on the field while other water girls just hung out at this massive Gatorade table. But you could tell what water girls were high ranking and which ones weren’t based on their eye apparel. The high ranking water girls wore sunglasses. They did this throughout the entire game. Even after the sun had went down.
National Anthem
Only the Cowboy place kicker wore these special orange shoes. Whatever showboat!
And the winner for dumbest looking mascot to enter Jack Trice Stadium is…
Robinson on the run.
OSU also had a disturbing amount of people loitering on their sidelines. Including this lady with the world’s ugliest purse. (I don’t really have opinions on purses other than I don’t want to hold yours for you.)
Garrin on the tackle.
Tiller’s brief appearance.
Logan took Jesse’s ticket. I wish he would have been able to see a better game, but that is the nature of being a Cyclone fan.
Jen took Jesse’s ticket to the Colorado game. She saw a much better game from the Cyclones. It was exciting because it was the first time Jen has seen the Cyclones win in person. Plus, now we are bowl eligible.
Hamilton.
Robinson.
Hamilton’s touchdown grab!
It takes 4 Colorado players to tackle Arnaud.
Cy!
Not on Banks’ watch!
Lenz
Arnaud slipping.
There has been some debate on whether or not the ISUCFVMB dancing was cool or lame. I will leave it to your discretion.
There is no denying that ISUCFVMB seniors leaving their shoes on the field is a cool tradition though.
Post-game Celebration
Even though it got cold in the 2nd half, Jen toughed it out! Adding another line to her “Super-wife” resume. I do believe that her toughness may have inspired somebody to join us for a game next year. In fact, I know this for a fact!
Cyclone Win!
More pictures can be found in the Iowa State – 2009.
6 wins makes Iowa State bowl eligible, but it doesn’t guarantee that we will go to a bowl game. Iowa State beating Missouri would clinch a bowl game.
I have seen Iowa State projected to go to either the Insight Bowl or the Independence Bowl. I hope these projections are correct. Either way: GO STATE!!!!
The day before Halloween was a very special Friday Night Supper Club. It was special because I hosted it, The guest list was expanded, we had Casey’s taco pizza and Jay made the dessert.
Why these special things occurred can be traced back to one thing. At that FNSC I took custody of Sara’s pride and joy – Jupiter Moon.
Sara was heading to Florida for a Junck family vacation and she entrusted her 4 year old cockapoo to my care for a week. Sara decided to make the transfer at FNSC. I decided that it would be best if I hosted FNSC so that Jupiter wouldn’t just be dumped into a strange house without any familiar faces. Sara brought some additional familiar faces: Anirban, Cousin Amy, Jen and Derrick.
Jen put in a request for the Casey’s taco pizza and her wish was granted.
At about 11:30 the guests packed up and left Jupiter behind. He was not very happy to be left behind, but it began our week together. A week where I was reminded of the responsibilities of dog ownership that will face me in the spring. A week where I had an opportunity to man Jupiter up, just a slight bit.
The first night was a little bit rough. Neither one of us slept particularly well. Jupiter spent almost the entire night staring at the front door. He would occasionally join me in the bedroom, but he would just stare out my bedroom door for a few seconds and then return to his post in the living room. Staring at the front door.
Jupiter spent most of Saturday morning looking depressed. When Sara texted to ask how he was doing, I responded that he was suffering from Post-Sara Depression.
Sara texted back that she though all creatures suffered from Post-Sara Depression.
I took Jupiter outside and he helped me take down and store all of the yard furniture for the winter.
By the afternoon, Jupiter was less depressed and more or less just subdued. We listened to the Iowa State football game, made spiced apple cider and nachos.
Near the conclusion of the game, Jay came over and started his annual pumpkin carving. Jupiter seemed intrigued by this and enjoyed greeting trick-or-treaters.
After the trick-or-treaters, we watched a couple of old horror movies and went to bed. Jupiter tried to sleep with me, but he wanted to sleep on top of me. He figured out that wasn’t going to work and spent the night on the couch.
On Sunday, I got up early and tailgated for church. Only 3 of us showed up for the tailgate, but the revolution was definitely on. After church, I attended a Methodist Men Board meeting, where we discussed the upcoming chicken noodle brunch.
On my way home, my mom called and asked if I wanted to look over any of grandpa’s tools. I could have any of them that I wanted.
I was planning on taking Jupiter for a walk in the park and I knew that I didn’t want any tools, so I loaded Jupiter in the car for what I thought was going to be a quick look at some tools and then a trip to the park.
As it turns out, this was actually a clean everything out of the garage mission and while I didn’t take any of the tools, I took several things out of the “garbage” pile.
Jupiter got to assist in the manly work of cleaning the garage. Unfortunately, by the time we finished, there was no longer any time for the park. I took Jupiter back home and headed to Prairie City with the Degeneffes to try the state’s reigning tenderloin champ.
Shortly after returning from that pilgrimage, I got my basketball gear together and heading to Ames for our opening games of the Ames Rec League. To start the season, we were schedule a double header!
I got home dog tired. I showered and fell asleep. Jupiter slept that night at my feet.
I always skip bowling on the first Monday of every month for my Trustees meeting. The meeting this month was fairly short. We mostly discussed cutting a pew off at one end and nothing else that I can remember.
After the meeting I took Jupiter for a walk. We walked about 1 mile. He peed (or at least stopped to lift his leg) 12 times.
Tuesday night I took Nader out for his birthday with the Baiers. Because I got home so late, Jupiter and I didn’t do anything manly.
Wednesday night I go to open gym to work on trying to recover some semblance of what used to be my basketball game. I also got home too late to do anything very manly.
Thursday night I took Jupiter to Jen and Derrick’s for a dog playdate with Bailey and Jackson.
Dog playdate didn’t go as well as we had hoped. Jackson and Jupiter seemed to get along well enough. At least they were able to ignore each other. Bailey and Jupiter did not end up being the best of buds. Jupiter was a little growly. This ended in a tiff where Bailey and Jupiter had words. Gyro Guy pizza ended up flying through the air and some smashed into the kitchen wall. A terrible waste.
Derrick took Bailey into the other room and gave her a lecture. I don’t know what he said, but Bailey was on good behavior rest of the night. Jupiter and Bailey never got all that buddy-buddy, but they didn’t come to blows. More importantly, no more Jeff’s Pizza had to be wasted.
On Friday I went to FNSC at Golden Corral. This was the first time that we have ever been to Golden Corral for FNSC. It was okay.
Afterwards, Jay came back to my place and we watched a cheerleader movie with Jupiter. I think this might have undone much of the work I had done in trying to man him up, but Sara insists that cheerleading is a sport, so it it okay.
Saturday morning, we woke up and did a little more work around the yard. I was glad to see that some of my hard work had paid off. Jupiter was actually enjoying being outside now.
I concluded my alone Jupiter time by watching College Game Day with him.
I picked up Logan and went to the Iowa State-Oklahoma State game. After the game, we met up with Sara and Anirban at Great Plains.
Then Sara came back to Boone and re-claimed Jupiter. He is back in Beaverdale, but I am posting a few pictures from his week with me.
On Sunday, when I got home from basketball, it dawned on me that it would have been really nice to have Jupiter waiting to greet me at the back door.
I texted Sara to let her know that I missed Jupiter. She texted me back that he missed me too. I asked her to watch football with him. She declined.
But to honor the week I spent with Jupiter Moon, he has become the first 4 legged creature to be featured in the now defunct Snapshots Gallery.
“Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I’m sure every Iowa State fan (even those in denial about their fanhood) has seen this video of Iowa State celebrating after their victory at Nebraska on Saturday. But I wanted to post it here, so I would always have a place to see it.
(Obviously if you subscribe via email or RSS Feed, you will have to go to the website to see the video.)
I don’t want to pile on to Chizik. It is obvious now that he clearly wasn’t the right fit here. Whether or not he succeeds at Auburn or how completely classless his departure from Iowa State was, the only thing that matters is that Iowa State now has absolutely the right guy as our coach.
Paul Rhoads says in that video that he is “So proud to be your football coach.”
I am so proud that Paul Rhoads is our football coach. Passion and enthusiasm are back in the Iowa State football program after a 2 year hiatus. It feels so good to see those two old friends again.
After the 5k concluded on Saturday – Sara, Jen, Karolina & Dionne huddled up to discuss where we should eat.
I asked Derrick what was going on over there. He explained the situation.
I stuck my head into the huddle and said, “You know what is the most important feature of the restaurant we eat at?”
They asked me to elaborate.
“A place where we can watch the Iowa State game.”
At first I thought my point had fallen on death ears, but Dionne also wanted to watch the game and Jen wanted to make Derrick happy, so we ended up at Legends in downtown Des Moines watching the game.
While we were walking to Legends, Jen (the Super-Wife) even offered to go get the car on her own so that Derrick and I could continue to watch the game after we were done eating.
So the 6 of us huddled into a booth at Legends and watched the first half of Iowa State’s first victory in Lincoln since 1977. First victory since 1977 despite missing their 2 best offensive players. Despite losing their nickel back with a broken leg. Despite having to separate healthy players from players with the flu for the ride over. I saw somebody write that ISU beat Nebraska on Saturday with 1/3 the talent and 5 times the heart. That heart comes from having a coach that actually cares.
Watching the first half with us was a good primer for Sara since she is going to go to the Iowa State-Kansas State game in Kansas City with us next year. She is big time excited about this new adventure and is counting down the days on her calendar.
As Jesse Smith pulled down an interception (the 8th Nebraska turnover of the game)I received several text messages. Including one from Tim, who was in Memorial Stadium indicating that it was “quiet” in the stadium.
I got a text from Bill (who lives in Omaha) saying that he was in a Best Buy “full of angry”.
Corey sent me a text message proclaiming that this game reinforced his theory of “The X”. Corey believes that the Kansas-ISU game was “The X”. After that game, Kansas would decline and the Cyclones would rise. Kansas did win that game, but since then they are 0-2. ISU is 2-0. I am a believer in “The X”.
I received a text message from Colleen that said simply: “Wow.”
I got a text from Baier proclaiming it to be one of the “5 biggest wins in Cyclone history”.
I got a text from Jesse asking if I “believed it”. Of course I believed it. I predicted it.
I got a text from Shannon saying that she broke the 1 day Little White Lye Soap sales record. I texted her back that it was a “truly great day”. She asked if that meant the 5K had went well. I responded that it had went well, but more importantly, ISU had beaten Nebraska. She merely texted back that she had “heard that”.
Then I talked to Jason and Derrick on the phone. It was a great day to be a Cyclone. Actually every day is a great day to be a Cyclone, but this day was a little bit greater than the norm.
I had sent a text message to Jill saying that Derrick and I had evened out the estrogen overload by making our party watch the ISU victory over Nebraska and now I was “so happy it hurt”. The response came back that this must the “good kind of hurt”.
Iowa State definitely put the good kind of hurt on Nebraska.
I’ve covered the story of the Beaverdale Night Fever shirts, so it is time to post the pictures that Derrick took at Sara’s birthday party.
It was exciting to meet Clint Eastwood at Sara’s party. I thought meeting Anirban was going to be the highlight.
When I posted the picture below, I promised more information on Alligator Shirt Day.
If you can claim to know me at all, you know I am a fan of alligators. You also know that I have a severe weakness for monster movies.
When I was a small child I watched a movie called Alligator. Very few movies have influenced the man that I have become like Alligator. (Shaft, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Cannibal Ferox, Zardoz, Smokey and the Bandit, Every Which Way But Loose and The Duel to name a few.)
The basic premise of Alligator is that a little kid gets a baby alligator as a pet at a fair of some kind. The kid’s dad is a big jerk and flushes the baby gator down the toilet. The baby alligator lives in the sewers of a major city. Then after 20 years the gator busts through a city street and crashes a wedding among other venues. It is basically Jaws with an alligator instead of a shark. It is not anywhere as well made, but that is part of its charm.
I watched this movie with my dad when we still lived on West 15th Street.
When we lived on West 15th Street, we had an aquarium in the kitchen. Well, where else would you put an aquarium?
Occasionally we would put newts in this aquarium. The interesting thing about newts is that they have no problem escaping aquariums. This freaked my mom out.
Although I have my doubts that she watched very much of Alligator, it left enough of an impression on her that she was always worried that these escaped newts were living under the house (it didn’t really have a basement, more of a cellar) and growing to monstrous proportions.
Maybe this is where you can measure the greatest distance between me and my mom. She was afraid that there were giant newts living in our cellar. I was hoping that there were giant newts living in our cellar.
That house isn’t there any longer and I never read any newspaper article claiming that giant newts went on a rampage in west Boone after being discovered under a demolished house.
Although the odds are against it, I like to think that the giant newts moved on after we moved out and are living in the woods just outside of Boone. Waiting. Just waiting.
I never wear the alligator shirt. Perhaps it is because when you have something that cherry, you live in a constant fear that if you take the shirt out of the closet something bad will happen to it. A sweet and sour sauce accident at Chinese Homestyle Cooking. A barbecue sauce accident at Battle’s. A bloomin’ onion sauce accident at Wallaby’s.
This brings me to the day of the picture above.
Jill and I were going to go cruising around in her car. But as it turned out it rained that day. This sudden unexpected rainfall was caused by Jill washing her car. She has those kind of powers. We still cruised the car, but with the top up.
We ended up at Jen and Derrick’s.
While we were conversing with Derrick, Jill brought up that their dad had brought her back 3 new shirts from his latest Boy Scout camping trip. 1 of these shirts had an alligator on it. She seemed less than impressed with this shirt.
I brought up the fact that I also had an awesome alligator shirt, but I never have a special enough occasion to wear it.
We struck a deal that we would declare one of the days of next year’s The Road Trip to be Alligator Shirt Day and we would wear our shirts.
When I returned home that evening I looked through my closet and found my alligator shirt. I looked at it and thought, “You will get to leave the closet in about one more year.”
A couple of days later I was wandering the shafts of the Computer Mine, when I ran into Coreen. She was sporting a shirt with a crocodile on it that came from the Vacation Bible School that she ran this Summer.
I commented on how I admired her crocodile shirt and I told her about my alligator shirt and the deal that Jill and I had brokered.
She pointed out that if I wore my shirt to work, she would also wear her shirt and we could have Alligator Shirt Day at work.
It seemed like a magnificent idea. So magnificent we had our picture taken to remember the day.
I don’t know that this new holiday that I have invented will take off, but I have a good feeling about it.
Plus, how great is 2010 going to be? There will be not 1, but 2 Alligator Shirt Days!!
By the way, this is journal entry #2 of 5 that are about groups I am in that have matching shirts. The Knocker Walkers, The Alligator Shirt People…
On Wednesday, Jen brought me the super-cute Knocker Walkers shirt for the 5K on Saturday. I would have to say that the shirt was super-cute and ended up being the best shirt that I saw there.
The only shirt I saw that approached it was a shirt with a baseball diamond on it that said: “Saving Second Base”. But that shirt was a distant second.
I took a few pictures to send to interested parties and I am going to post some here. Remember that these pictures were taken with a phone, so they aren’t of the highest quality.
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Jen texting somebody to find out their location.
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Me, Sara, Jen and Derrick
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Sara and Jen
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Jen waiting to get to the starting line.
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The starting line.
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Derrick, Jen, Sara and Karolina nearing the end of the 5K.
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It was an awesome event and I would encourage anybody to be a part of it next year.
I would also like to give a special thanks to Jason Baier and Geri Derner for making contributions to the cause through my pledge page. Special people, those two.
Rarely when I publish pictures do I explain the thought process, the technical information or the inspiration. If somebody is confused by a picture or intrigued by a picture I want them to come to their own conclusions.
I feel by telling people too much about a picture, it cheapens the experience for them. That being written, I am going to part with my traditional way of doing things and give a rare glimpse into what happened before I created a trio of images.
The story of these pictures actually starts with the story of the picture above.
As you can tell, I am very pleased with the shirt I am wearing. It is an awesome shirt and if it isn’t the greatest shirt I currently own, it is certainly a top 5 shirt.
If you can read and have an adequate brain, you probably have deduced that this shirt was purchased at the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Good for you Big Brain! This shirt was indeed purchased at the Beaverdale Fall Festival.
Sara invited a bunch of us down to her house for the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Jen, Jill and I accepted the invitation.
This is the first thing that happened to put these events into motion:
Jill picked me up in her sweet car.
Then we met Jen in Ames and went to Beaverdale to meet up with Sara.
At Sara’s house we were treated to steamed asparagus and the company of Cousin Amy. Jen gave Jill and I beaver tats with a sharpie to symbolize the importance of the event.
I know a lot of people that are really good at a lot of things, but I don’t think I know anybody who is as good at a given skill as Jen is at drawing beavers. I think she should go into business.
After a small amount of time digesting the asparagus we made the short 3 block walk from Sara and Jupiter’s home to the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Jupiter was left behind in the basement. That is the life of a dog, no matter how pretty.
Our first stop was a table where an elderly gentleman was selling Beaverdale Fall Festival swag. He regaled us with tales of past Beaverdale Fall Festival shirts. My heart was particularly broken because a couple of these shirts sounded at least as sweet as the Beaverdale Night Fever shirt he was hawking this year. One was a parody of album cover of “Let it Be”. The other was a parody of the album cover of “Abbey Road”.
2005
But if I live by one rule it is this: Don’t waste your time lamenting the beaver shirts that got away. Be thankful for the beaver shirts that you have.
Feel free to use my rule as the center of your life as well. I guarantee you it will serve you well.
Jen, Jill, Sara and I each purchased a Beaverdale Night Fever shirt. Admittedly, we should have picked one up for Derrick, but having to stand at Sara’s birthday party and take the picture of the 4 of us in our beaver shirts was his punishment for choosing 35 South over us on that night.
Jen and I declared that we would wear our beaver shirts at work on Monday. Sara gave us no indication when she would wear her beaver shirt, but Jill announced that she would wear her shirt to work on the following Friday.
Jill works at one of those companies that has “expectations” and “standards” about the clothes that their employees wear. But on Fridays, they let there employees get all casual.
Monday came and I arrived at work sporting my sweet new beaver shirt. I had Jesse take a picture of me with my phone so I could picture message Jen and find out if she was also sporting her sweet beaver shirt.
Jen was sitting in her office explaining the beaver shirt story to Jessica (who is the person that is organizing the Knocker Walkers team) when my picture message came through. This apparently amused them both.
On Friday, my work soundtrack consisted entirely of John Coltrane music. I decided to follow-up on Jill to see if she was wearing her beaver shirt. As I was typing out the text message I had a strange flashback. I remembered sitting around Jen and Derrick’s living room this summer before their wedding.
They asked the guests of their wedding to pick a song for the reception. We were going through the list of songs that people had picked and I had stopped on Jill’s song. She had chosen Naima by John Coltrane.
It was the only jazz song anybody had suggested. I remembered that.
Jill texted me back that she was wearing the beaver shirt and enjoying the many jealous looks she was getting from her co-workers.
I turned on the only copy of Naima that I possess and gave it a listen. The only version that I own is from the album Live at the Village Vanguard Again! It is 15 minutes and 10 seconds long. It is 110% chaos.
Now I know that the original is not chaos. The only other song on this album is a 20 minute 21 second version of My Favorite Things. It is also chaos. I have 3 other copies of My Favorite Things that are not chaos. This album is chaos. It is also genius.
I texted Jill and asked her why she chose the song Naima.
She answered back that it was her favorite Coltrane ballad.
I wrote back that I was going to need to find a studio version of the song because the only version I had was live and was chaos.
She wrote back that the studio version was “incredibly soothing and hopelessly romantic”.
I wrote her, “That is the single greatest description I have ever heard for a song.”
I told her I would find a copy of the studio version and give it a listen and then we could compare notes.
I did some research on the song to find out what album the original song was on. Turns out that it was Giant Steps. This was an album that I have literally held in my hands at least 10 times, but have never purchased because it seemed to me that I could wait for a remastered version of the album.
Ames is virtually devoid of music stores. I know that is partially because Ames didn’t support its music stores and partially because the internet and iTunes have so radically changed the market that music stores with inventory of not Top 40 (read crap) are not going to make it.
I remember when I was in high school – Bill, Lowell, Andy and I would load into Bill’s Ford Fairmont station wagon and drive to Campustown to visit the (not 1, not 2) 3 music stores located with a 3 block radius. There was Archives, Peeples and BHS Records. BHS Records wasn’t really called BHS Records. It went by another name, but we always called it BHS Records because it is where we discovered the Butthole Surfers.
Now they are all gone and if a person is looking for new, experimental, alternative music – good luck! I don’t know where this generation of kids is going to discover bands like Jerry’s Kids, Intense Mutilation, The Abortions, Dead Kennedys, Dead Milkmen, The Ramones or the Revolting Cocks.
The options in Ames for buying music are the big box department stores. That means virtually no choice at all.
But I wasn’t without hope. Best Buy has a small jazz section. Borders has a slightly bigger jazz section. Hastings has a slightly larger jazz section than Borders. But if you were to combine all of their jazz sections the term that would best describe the conglomeration is anemic.
That Friday after I left work, I did not have time to stop at Best Buy or Borders for reasons that currently escape me. After all, this was nearly a month ago.
Now I know what you are thinking… You are thinking that somebody that literally mines computers for a living must easily have the aptitude to download this song from iTunes, Amazon, Zune or illegally find it in one of the murky backwaters of the worldwide web.
It is true that I have that capacity. But I am also the guy who still wants CDs. I want liner notes and album art. I want to rip the CD to my hard drive. I want to be able to have a real CD (not a burned copy) to sit inside the 300 disc changer that resides at the bottom of my stack of audio equipment in my home.
On Saturday morning I had a fairly busy day scheduled. I woke up early and met Frank at the gym. This was one of his first times back to the gym since his NDE so it was a fairly light workout.
I left the gym with enough time to stop at Best Buy and Borders before I had to meet Sara in Beaverdale for our jaunt over to Prospect Park to watch Jen rip it up in the Des Moines Regatta.
I can write what I am about to write with a clear conscience. The dude that runs the Best Buy in Ames is one of my best friends and although he is not a reader (his term) he still is a loyal subscriber to this blog.
Best Buy broke, no, shattered my heart into a million pieces. Not only did they not have Giant Steps, they didn’t have a single Coltrane album. I could understand that they didn’t have Giant Steps. Even though it is a fairly seminal jazz album. I mean I don’t own it, so I shouldn’t judge Best Buy too harshly. But they didn’t have a single John Coltrane album in stock. I know, pretty unforgivable. I mean to have a serious talk with Scott about this tragic oversight the next time that we are knocking down a tenderloin. (Yes, I realize that music and movies are loss leader items for stores like Best Buy and in a tough economy it is smart business practice to keep as little on hand stock as possible, especially items that aren’t exactly flying off the shelf like 50 year old jazz albums. But we’re talking about Coltrane, man!)
Borders used to have a fairly decent jazz selection. Unfortunately a few months back they decided to lower their inventory levels and concentrate on selling Top 40 (read crap) music. Now their jazz section is a disgrace on multiple levels.
Their first disgrace is the size. It is only about 1/3 of its previous size. Their 2nd disgrace is that their discs are randomly “organized”. I literally went through every single jazz album they had in stock to determine that they did not carry Giant Steps.
Disappointed I made my way down to Beaverdale to meet Sara for the Des Moines Regatta.
I was hoping to have time to hit a music store in Des Moines while I was down there, but it wasn’t to be. The Regatta ran a touch longer than expected and then after the portion that interested us had concluded, we ate at Zimm’s.
Sara contends they have the best nachos in Des Moines. I argue for Skip’s.
I left Des Moines at 3 and had to be at the wedding of Mindy Vickers in Boone at 4. I got stuck behind the Army football team on Highway 17, so I was not able to make record time, but I did get to the wedding only a handful of minutes late.
I grabbed a seat in the back of the church next to my old boss, the Son-in-Law. After the wedding concluded, the Son-in-Law set up shop on the Senile Old Man. It was awesome! I could have listened for hours, but instead I congratulated the happy couple and headed to the ISU-Army football game.
After the game, I went to Dustin Jackson’s wedding reception.
I just want to note that I miss those sideburns.
I had an awesome time at the reception, before returning home to sleep.
In the morning I attended church and around noon the family took my mom to La Carreta for her birthday.
At this feast, Teresa asked me if I would take Logan over to the art festival in Ames. He needed to go for extra credit.
I agreed to take him because I was going to Ames to check out Hastings to see if I could find Giant Steps. I could use the company.
Johnathan decided he wanted to go, so we met at my house and prepared to load up the car. But before we got in the car Logan insisted that he get to choose the music.
I told him he could choose the music on the way there, but on the way back he was in my world.
He asked if I had The Beatles One CD.
I asked him if he meant, “Like the Greatest Hits Album”.
“Yes.”
I was disappointed. My sister had failed in teaching him one of life’s most valuable truths.
“Greatest hits albums are for sailors and housewives.” I think we all know what terrible taste in music sailors and housewives possess.
I gave Logan a long lecture on the evils of the “Greatest Hits Album”.
Logan having the good fortune of me being his uncle his entire life, listened and took to heart the wisdom that I imparted to him.
The first stop in Ames was Hastings. As we approached the door I noticed that it was plastered with signs proclaiming that Hastings was closing on Wednesday.
Interesting, I thought. Then I entered the store.
“Bennett.” I heard called out to my left.
Ungs was working the Customer Service Desk.
“What is this all about?” I asked pointing to the sign.
“Our lease is up. We are closing down forever. They held a meeting and told us a couple of days ago.”
“Did they at least give you burnt cheese and pretzels?”
“Nope.”
I was disappointed. When we had been told that Campus was closing down, the Senile Old Man had at least provided us with burnt cheese and pretzels.
I worked my way back to the jazz section and surveyed the Coltrane albums. Giant Steps wasn’t there. But as I examined the albums I noticed that Naima was on The Very Best of John Coltrane.
Fate was laughing in my face. I wanted to hear the song, but I didn’t want the indignity of buying a Greatest Hits Album. But sometimes a man has to swallow his pride.
I looked around to make sure Logan and Johnathan weren’t paying attention. Luckily for me, they were quite enthralled with a pimp goblet.
I picked up the CD and made my way to the checkout. They never noticed.
We headed up to the art festival.
They seemed to enjoy the art festival and after ambling around for an hour or so we headed back to Boone so Johnathan could go to work.
We dropped off Johnathan, then Logan and I made a brief stop by the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad so that we could see Thomas the Tank.
Then I dropped off Logan and went home to prepare my house for Rabbit Feast. By prepare my house, I mean that I was home.
Becky came over and began her preparations. Jay came over and prepared his appetite.
Becky served so much food that I can’t possibly remember it all. I do remember that it turns out that I don’t particularly care for rabbit, stud rabbits aren’t treated with nearly enough respect and Becky made some kind of peanut butter glaze that was incredible.
After the meal, I amazed Jay and Becky with my ability to play YouTube on my Blu-Ray player. All things considered, I am more impressed by the fact that it plays Pandora. But to show them the YouTube functionality, we watched several clips from Robot Chicken. Becky was not amused by Robot Chicken. I feel bad that she doesn’t appreciate the greatness of that show.
Jay and Becky left around 11 and I immediately crashed.
The next day I brought my CD to work to listen to Naima. This is not how I like to listen to music. I like to not have any distractions and be in complete darkness. I don’t know, light distracts my ears. Nothing I can do about it. I have to live with this brain.
While I was perusing the liner notes, I learned that the version of Naima on this greatest hits collection was live.
Fate was laughing at me again. This time, I had to laugh with the stupid jerk as well. Then I went to Amazon and downloaded the Giant Steps version of Naima.
I made a CD of the studio version of the song and the two different live versions of the song. That night as I went to bed, I put the CD on “Repeat Disc” and listened to the disc until I fell asleep.
I’m not going to go into details about my exchange with Jill about the song. It was mostly me making references to other forms of art and a discussion on what it means to be “hopelessly romantic” and whether or not that is a bad thing.
But I will share the one paragraph that Jill sent that inspired me to make these pictures:
I believe that you do not need to be an accomplished musician in order to be an accomplished music lover. Actually, I think knowing too much about the technicalities can ruin just purely loving to listen to music. I luckily never cared too much about music theory so I don’t think I’m part of that group, but I would much rather go hear music live rather than listen to recorded music. That is probably why my favorite genre is jazz because it’s so spontaneous and so great live. Unfortunately I no longer have any of my jazz cds, but I will slowly rebuild my collection. I’m not going to pretend to know a lot about jazz because I don’t. I played in jazz band only because it was just so much fun. I was never great at it by any stretch of the imagination but I simply didn’t care. I’ve heard a lot of it, but honestly can’t name every standard or tell you who performed them all. I do know what I like when I hear it though, and I can usually explain why I like it. I think that is all that really matters.
I should state for those that don’t know, Jill is an accomplished musician and played the most rocking piccolo solo I ever heard in my life this Summer with the Boone City Band.
I think you know that I am not an accomplished musician. In fact, I could hardly be described as a musician at all. But I do still have my old slide trombone sitting in my basement from my days at dear old BHS.
But after being inspired and somewhat liberated by reading those words, I decided to take a self portrait with my trombone in homage to a couple of my favorite musicians (Miles Davis and John Coltrane) and two of their seminal albums, Kind of Blue and Blue Train.
So that is the story that lead me to sit in my basement one Thursday night and make these images with a beat up trombone that has seen better days, but will never see better days again.
I know it is a lot to get through just to see 3 pictures.