Guitar lessons in both my teen years and adulthood failed to transform me into a legendary singer/songwriter. I can play a few songs, but I'm definitely no guitarist. Traditional, Appalachian music (i.e., pre-bluegrass) has recently gotten my attention, and I've pictured myself learning banjo or fiddle.
But that would, in all likelihood, end the same way as the guitar lessons.
This is what I'm opening myself up to, and let's see if there's enough magic in the universe to bring it to pass: I'll allow the music to find me.
Music is a spiritual thing that defies natural laws. So, if it wants to be found, it will present itself.
It could happen when I hear a used fiddle calling to me at a yard sale.
It could happen when someone unexpectedly gives me a guitar.
Or, something else entirely could bring me into contact with my predestined instrument.
That's the expectation I will now open up, and if something fulfills it, I'll report back here.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Where's the eye contact, man?
During my time in the city, I was reminded of how rare eye contact can be. As I walk the pedway or sidewalks, my natural inclination is to look at people, give them a nod or a grin. Very few look back, and I suspect the ones who do are ruralites in town for the conference.
It occured to me that I'll occasionally run into this on backcountry trails, too. You're hiking south; somebody else is hiking north. Out of courtesy you say, "How's it going?" or smile as your paths cross. Although rare, I've had experiences where the other hikers don't look at me and ignore my words.
Man, that's just rude. I can understand the thing on city streets. I don't particularly like it, but I can see from a safety mechanism that it might be a good idea. But out there in God's green world, say hello, please.
Are you afraid of me?
It occured to me that I'll occasionally run into this on backcountry trails, too. You're hiking south; somebody else is hiking north. Out of courtesy you say, "How's it going?" or smile as your paths cross. Although rare, I've had experiences where the other hikers don't look at me and ignore my words.
Man, that's just rude. I can understand the thing on city streets. I don't particularly like it, but I can see from a safety mechanism that it might be a good idea. But out there in God's green world, say hello, please.
Are you afraid of me?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Limits to humor
I realize this sounds like an old man talking, but when it comes to humor, I've identified some limits -- some areas that I believe are out of bounds.
For me, there are two words that signify where my humor lines lie: compassion and sacredness.
Number one, when humor is presented at the expense of compassion, it has gone too far.
Likewise, when it violates the sacred, I'm not impressed.
One example is a Saturday Night Live skit that featured Alec Baldwin as a Scoutmaster. He was on a camping trip with a group of Scouts that included Adam Sandler. Anyone who has followed SNL over the years knows the skit I'm talking about and is familiar with this skit. It was pretty controversial.
A. Whitney Brown once said, "Anyone capable of being offended has learned not to watch Saturday Night Live."
The Boy Scout skit taught me that I am capable of being offended.
I try to catch episodes of "The Family Guy" when I can. It's hilarious, but some of the humor makes me grit my teeth.
Is this a sign that I'm getting mature -- or just old?
For me, there are two words that signify where my humor lines lie: compassion and sacredness.
Number one, when humor is presented at the expense of compassion, it has gone too far.
Likewise, when it violates the sacred, I'm not impressed.
One example is a Saturday Night Live skit that featured Alec Baldwin as a Scoutmaster. He was on a camping trip with a group of Scouts that included Adam Sandler. Anyone who has followed SNL over the years knows the skit I'm talking about and is familiar with this skit. It was pretty controversial.
A. Whitney Brown once said, "Anyone capable of being offended has learned not to watch Saturday Night Live."
The Boy Scout skit taught me that I am capable of being offended.
I try to catch episodes of "The Family Guy" when I can. It's hilarious, but some of the humor makes me grit my teeth.
Is this a sign that I'm getting mature -- or just old?
Young and juicy
I went into a store today, and an African-American cashier waited on me.
"I can help somebody over here," she said, when her register was open. I stepped over. "I don't bite," she said.
I smiled.
"Actually, I do bite," she told one of her fellow cashiers, "but only if they're young and juicy." She pointed to me. "He's young and juicy, so he might get bit."
Her fellow cashier smiled and told me, "You'd better run when you hit the door."
A nice and unique compliment: "Young and juicy."
"I can help somebody over here," she said, when her register was open. I stepped over. "I don't bite," she said.
I smiled.
"Actually, I do bite," she told one of her fellow cashiers, "but only if they're young and juicy." She pointed to me. "He's young and juicy, so he might get bit."
Her fellow cashier smiled and told me, "You'd better run when you hit the door."
A nice and unique compliment: "Young and juicy."
Travel abroad
I wish I had traveled abroad a bit more in my early years.
One of my deepest regrets is that I passed up a scholarship that included four years of study plus one year of study abroad.
Where would I have gone? How would the experience have changed who I am today?
I had more of a travel itch right after college than I do now, too, but I scratched it with shorter trips to natural areas, plus one three-week stint of fighting wildfire in California.
Today, I'm content to exist in a relatively confined geographic area. Oh, I'm interested in other cultures, but I also crave a strong sense of home.
That's why I'm thinking more and more about my hometown. That why, if given a choice, I really believe I could get rid of my car and set myself up to have my job, my home and a market capable of supplying my basic needs within a five-mile radius.
One of my deepest regrets is that I passed up a scholarship that included four years of study plus one year of study abroad.
Where would I have gone? How would the experience have changed who I am today?
I had more of a travel itch right after college than I do now, too, but I scratched it with shorter trips to natural areas, plus one three-week stint of fighting wildfire in California.
Today, I'm content to exist in a relatively confined geographic area. Oh, I'm interested in other cultures, but I also crave a strong sense of home.
That's why I'm thinking more and more about my hometown. That why, if given a choice, I really believe I could get rid of my car and set myself up to have my job, my home and a market capable of supplying my basic needs within a five-mile radius.
Gratuity etiquette
Remember that great scene from "Reservoir Dogs" on tipping? I still face dilemmas on that topic.
I'm pretty comfortable with my tips to servers in restaurants. Fifteen percent standard, more if they're exceptional.
And I try to tip in cash whenever possible. This was pointed out to me by a friend when I tipped on my credit card.
"Hey, they have to pay tax on that," he explained.
Pizza delivery drivers and hotel cleaning persons remain in the gratuity gray area in my mind.
Is 15% enough for the guy who drives his own car to your house to bring you a pizza?
When it comes to hotel staff, I only know one person who tips the cleaning lady. But when you get right down to it, their jobs are a lot tougher and more unpleasant than that of a restaurant server. Then again, you could say that about a lot of jobs that aren't usually thought of as tip-worthy.
In high school, I worked at a rural truckstop for a while. I'd often get tips for pumping diesel or washing trucks. And then later in life, I worked at a tree care company and ended up with a $20 tip or two.
It's a nice reward for otherwise monotonous labor.
If I had a way to tip the readers of this blog, I'd consider it.
I'm pretty comfortable with my tips to servers in restaurants. Fifteen percent standard, more if they're exceptional.
And I try to tip in cash whenever possible. This was pointed out to me by a friend when I tipped on my credit card.
"Hey, they have to pay tax on that," he explained.
Pizza delivery drivers and hotel cleaning persons remain in the gratuity gray area in my mind.
Is 15% enough for the guy who drives his own car to your house to bring you a pizza?
When it comes to hotel staff, I only know one person who tips the cleaning lady. But when you get right down to it, their jobs are a lot tougher and more unpleasant than that of a restaurant server. Then again, you could say that about a lot of jobs that aren't usually thought of as tip-worthy.
In high school, I worked at a rural truckstop for a while. I'd often get tips for pumping diesel or washing trucks. And then later in life, I worked at a tree care company and ended up with a $20 tip or two.
It's a nice reward for otherwise monotonous labor.
If I had a way to tip the readers of this blog, I'd consider it.
Closing early
Speaking of the city, I stopped in the hotel's restaurant last night and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu: "Farm-raised chicken" (as opposed, I suppose, to poultry brought up in an apartment complex). By the time I paid for my meal and two beers, my total was $31.
I know what you're thinking: "You backwoods hick. That's not that outrageous."
True. I've seen worse. But I was perturbed nonetheless.
And rather than ordering any kind of dessert, I figured I'd come back down to the hotel's Starbucks a little later for hot chocolate. Know what, though? It was closed when I went down there at 8:30. So much for big city hours.
I know what you're thinking: "You backwoods hick. That's not that outrageous."
True. I've seen worse. But I was perturbed nonetheless.
And rather than ordering any kind of dessert, I figured I'd come back down to the hotel's Starbucks a little later for hot chocolate. Know what, though? It was closed when I went down there at 8:30. So much for big city hours.
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