Walking back to the office following a funeral of a good man, I found myself reflecting again on the story he told me several years ago. Choc Wetzel, public school administrator, cowboy, family man, deacon of the church, and all round great man, once told me a story that has stayed with me.
We were driving from his place to my little place in Bangs with an old billy goat in the back of the trailer when he suddenly pointed to a spot by the highway and said, "That's God's land right there." I looked at him rather perplexed and saw a glow on his face. He told me that when his wife was in great pain from the cancer that was ravaging her body, he needed $25,000 for a surgery that would relieve her pain and prolong her life. The only way to get the money was to sell his beloved land, a small ranch he had worked all his life to acquire, the dream of his life where his horses and goats lived. Yet there was no choice. The love of his wife far surpassed the love of his ranch or his animals. She may have been against it, but without hesitation he knew he was willing to sacrifice anything for her comfort.
Waking up to get dressed and heading for the bank to finalize the sell, the doorbell rang. Standing at the door was an official looking man in a business suit. The man asked Choc who owned the little strip of land out by the highway. Choc laughed because although he owned it, the small parcel of land was worthless due to being too close too the highway and filled with caliche. The man then offered him $25,000 for it. The Glen Rose power plant needed it to extend their system.
In shock and humility, Choc accepted the offer and was able to pay for his wife's surgery. Choc and his wife are gone now, and walking with the Lord in Paradise, but the story lives on--a story of sacrifice and providence, a story that demonstrates the depth of love a man had for his wife and the love of the great Shepherd as He protects His flock.
I am changing I think and losing some of my earlier materialism. Big houses and lots of stuff no longer impress me. I find myself needing to minimize my life a little. This could be due to the amazing power of the computer and instant communication with the world. Or it could be that with a computer, music, books, friends, transportation, and coffee I am happy. I don't need a large TV, fancy chairs, expensive pens, or all the stuff that fills our lives. Just some basic needs these days (okay, that seems silly since I do like my truck, my nice clothes, hat, computer, etc.). The visit to the Biltmore mansion had the opposite effect on me I believe than most people experience. Other than the book collection which represents knowledge, nothing really meant much to me. Just a big house with lots of old stuff. Sorry to be so earthy, but it just felt excessive to me.
Relationships and knowledge reign supreme over the acquisition of stuff or the accumulation of wealth. My joy is not dependent on the objects around me but rather is found in the Lord, my family, my friends, and the peace within.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Baptist All-State and more
We sang at the Astros game and had a blast. Astros won with two homers and some tight pitching. Just a fun day all the way around. Worship time was also great and several students felt the moving of the Holy spirit.
In spite of the lower numbers, I am encouraged by Baptist All-State this year and the quality of the students. In addition to having strong players in the band and excellent singers in the choir, the attitude of the students is positive. They diligently apply Christian principles in their worldview and seek Godly wisdom in their decisions.
Plus the students are just plain fun. They laugh easily, love the Lord, love music, and treat each other with respect and dignity (mostly anyway!). I love to see students holding doors, picking up trash, carrying trays for each other, offering to help, and generally exhibiting a servant like attitude toward others. Our trip to a residential center for adults with functional disabilities further demonstrated the compassion and loving spirit of our students as they interacted with autistics, down syndrome clients, and various disabled adults. It was heart-warming and touching in all respects.
The musical experience was positive and the audience response tremendous in all our concerts. The adults and the students worked together to create a week of music giving glory to God and expressing the joy of the Lord. I hope to see continued commitment to this fine institution. Next summer, I will be directing the band! Can't wait.
In spite of the lower numbers, I am encouraged by Baptist All-State this year and the quality of the students. In addition to having strong players in the band and excellent singers in the choir, the attitude of the students is positive. They diligently apply Christian principles in their worldview and seek Godly wisdom in their decisions.
Plus the students are just plain fun. They laugh easily, love the Lord, love music, and treat each other with respect and dignity (mostly anyway!). I love to see students holding doors, picking up trash, carrying trays for each other, offering to help, and generally exhibiting a servant like attitude toward others. Our trip to a residential center for adults with functional disabilities further demonstrated the compassion and loving spirit of our students as they interacted with autistics, down syndrome clients, and various disabled adults. It was heart-warming and touching in all respects.
The musical experience was positive and the audience response tremendous in all our concerts. The adults and the students worked together to create a week of music giving glory to God and expressing the joy of the Lord. I hope to see continued commitment to this fine institution. Next summer, I will be directing the band! Can't wait.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Joel and Packing
Joel's world is ordered. Without a sense of order, Joel has trouble functioning. As pointed out earlier, he can accept a certain amount of ambiguity provided it is planned ambiguity. For example, the bus picks him up everyday between 12:15 and 1:30. It would be ideal to establish the precise time of pick up, but unfortunately the system does not allow for that. Yet Joel is comfortable knowing it will happen within that established framework, planning for the somewhat nebulous time for arrival.
But overall he needs order to find meaning and cannot live in a constant state of confusion or randomness. This weakness, if indeed it is a weakness, is related to his lack of creativity and imagination. Looking at this from another direction, with exceptions people with a messy desk, car, or who lead a spontaneous lifestyle generally have a greater degree of personal creativity and imagination. Obviously this generalization has a consequence in that extremes are rarely beneficial in any kind of sense.
As an aside, I knew a very creative but dysfunctional musician whose lifestyle and personal habits were completely without order, resulting in total physical and personal messes without any kind of productivity at any time. It ultimately caused his own health and career demise demonstrating how any extreme rarely has any gain.
Joel, however, uncomfortable with spontaneity, missing an imagination, and not developing a sense of dreams, replaces this ingredient with a need for order amidst the chaos of the world. Loving to travel but needing to know where, how long, what to bring, and what the trip entails, he packs accordingly and specifically. Obviously this is not an unusual trait, for many people prefer to pack fastidiously, planning for the trip and any contingencies.
Where Joel differs is in his system of packing and determining the items for the trip. He lays out his clothes in order of days, sets out his personal items, creates a spot for other things--Italian dictionary for example, counts the items within the stacks and packs accordingly. He then applies the number needed, exacting the items numerically. This means that if he has packed 8 personal items on the trip, there is something missing since there should be 9. He then seeks out the 9th item whatever that may be. While most people simply make sure their deodorant is present, he instead numbers it among the 9 personal items needed. After counting the total, he then seeks out the precise number of the item.
When we were returning to Texas from North Carolina on a recent trip, he was somewhat perplexed since item number 7 was missing. Thinking through it, he found item number 7, a razor, in the shower. This completed the total and allowed him to finish packing for the return trip. His system works for him and demonstrates his continued need for order and systems. He is lacking in creativity and imagination and yet it is easy to see that he simply rewrites the definitions of those terms according to his own needs. Seems to me that it takes imagination to organize his life by his system. We may not always understand it, but we do respect it.
But overall he needs order to find meaning and cannot live in a constant state of confusion or randomness. This weakness, if indeed it is a weakness, is related to his lack of creativity and imagination. Looking at this from another direction, with exceptions people with a messy desk, car, or who lead a spontaneous lifestyle generally have a greater degree of personal creativity and imagination. Obviously this generalization has a consequence in that extremes are rarely beneficial in any kind of sense.
As an aside, I knew a very creative but dysfunctional musician whose lifestyle and personal habits were completely without order, resulting in total physical and personal messes without any kind of productivity at any time. It ultimately caused his own health and career demise demonstrating how any extreme rarely has any gain.
Joel, however, uncomfortable with spontaneity, missing an imagination, and not developing a sense of dreams, replaces this ingredient with a need for order amidst the chaos of the world. Loving to travel but needing to know where, how long, what to bring, and what the trip entails, he packs accordingly and specifically. Obviously this is not an unusual trait, for many people prefer to pack fastidiously, planning for the trip and any contingencies.
Where Joel differs is in his system of packing and determining the items for the trip. He lays out his clothes in order of days, sets out his personal items, creates a spot for other things--Italian dictionary for example, counts the items within the stacks and packs accordingly. He then applies the number needed, exacting the items numerically. This means that if he has packed 8 personal items on the trip, there is something missing since there should be 9. He then seeks out the 9th item whatever that may be. While most people simply make sure their deodorant is present, he instead numbers it among the 9 personal items needed. After counting the total, he then seeks out the precise number of the item.
When we were returning to Texas from North Carolina on a recent trip, he was somewhat perplexed since item number 7 was missing. Thinking through it, he found item number 7, a razor, in the shower. This completed the total and allowed him to finish packing for the return trip. His system works for him and demonstrates his continued need for order and systems. He is lacking in creativity and imagination and yet it is easy to see that he simply rewrites the definitions of those terms according to his own needs. Seems to me that it takes imagination to organize his life by his system. We may not always understand it, but we do respect it.
Friday, July 02, 2010
It's a mess, but what the heck!
Okay, true that church music is a mess. Who knows what it should be or even is today? Should we be "contemporary"? or "traditional"? or "blended"? or "liturgical"? or "rock"? or "classical"? or "WHAT?" It is just a hodge-podge of abject confusion with no foundational past or projected future. In fact I am not even sure what my own preferences are anymore. Organ? Drums? Guitars? Orchestra? Piano? Acapella? Rock? Jazz? Classical? Choir? Praise team? Solos? Tracks? Slow? Fast? Loud? Soft?
Growing up in a Gospel/Baptist style, I quickly became a skilled and academically trained musician resulting in a plethora of professional experiences as a horn player, conductor, composer, and manager. In church settings, I have had opportunities to perform in Roman Catholic services, Jewish services, Methodist, Presbyterian, Unitarian, and several ethnic related denominations. From "high church" to "gospel/country" style, I have done it all and oddly have loved it all (okay, most of it anyway). Drop me into an Anglican church singing old hymns with an organ leading the way and a small call and response choir and I am happy.
Conversely, I am completely comfortable in a Gospel setting or rock contemporary or even African-American stylized emotional service. I can move with the best of them and have a charismatic (not tongues, don't worry) side that comes through occasionally. I love Praise and Worship music and am always eager to hear the latest chorus, but I also love "cultivated" choral music of John Rutter or "classical" string playing of Bach or a Handel Organ Sonata. It all plays a role in my faith and my joy of the Lord.
But to return to the question--what is right? What kind of of music, what style, what approach is the right one for churches today? At Ridgecrest, while the piano was important, it was the trap set that drove the music. Except for the Dennis Jernigan concert which was voice and piano, the drums set the tone and style for every hymn or chorus performed. In Biblical times, the drum set did not exist as we know it today. Perhaps this is a good reason to reject it. On the other hand, very little that we have today existed in Biblical times--instruments, lights, carpets, microphones, computers, even dress shoes, etc. Are the drums in themselves pagan or adversely secular? Scripture references drums and cymbals! Is it the beat of the music that is offensive, reminding us of hard rock on the radio with its sexually oriented words? Does a trap set move music from being "cultivated" or "classical" to being "populist" and youth oriented? Or does a trap set simply attempt to cross generation lines and give the music a familiar drive, modernizing old hymns and making them fresh?
Should my academic training govern my preference for "cultivated" or "artistic" church music? Probably not but it is hard to escape just the same. Sometimes I remember the old days at Music week in Glorieta where we focused on a large oratorio by a well-known composer and used a full orchestra and where the magnificent organ drove the hymns to great musical heights. And I get a little tired of the trap set at times and the constant syncopated rhythms of the choruses and the "building up" style of choruses and church music today. Sometimes I long for the days of simplicity and homophony of the hymns where we sang in four-part harmony and did all stanzas (or at least 3 of them!).
And yet there is no denying the powerful emotion of today's church music with its driving rhythms, punctuated text, personal statements, and extremes of joy and sentiment. While I once abhorred those crazed charismatics who lifted their hands toward God in a cheap display of their own false piousness, I now share in that experience which is a glorious way to reach out and physically express a closeness to the Lord our Savior. I cast my judgmental nature aside and accept the myriad ways to express my deepest thoughts of God's goodness. No more anger, no more intolerance, no more criticism (okay, at least not as vitriolic anyway), and no more selfishness, I now realize that God can bless us when we come to Him with an attitude of love, tolerance, and devotion.
Does this mean I have no more standards for music making in church? Absolutely not for I will ALWAYS battle for excellence regardless of the style presented. We should strive for the best in terms of accuracy, sound, text, harmony, and joy. It all plays a part in the worship experience. Praise God for giving us the opportunity to sing and play to Him. Thank God for forgiving us our painful judgments against our fellow man.
Yes, I miss the old days but I love the new days also. Mainly I feel blessed every time I join with my fellow Christians in Praise. Church music is a mess because mankind is a mess. But what the heck, let's jump in and worship in spite of our failings, doing our best to worship Him, and loving each other, setting aside our differences for the sake of the greater good.
Growing up in a Gospel/Baptist style, I quickly became a skilled and academically trained musician resulting in a plethora of professional experiences as a horn player, conductor, composer, and manager. In church settings, I have had opportunities to perform in Roman Catholic services, Jewish services, Methodist, Presbyterian, Unitarian, and several ethnic related denominations. From "high church" to "gospel/country" style, I have done it all and oddly have loved it all (okay, most of it anyway). Drop me into an Anglican church singing old hymns with an organ leading the way and a small call and response choir and I am happy.
Conversely, I am completely comfortable in a Gospel setting or rock contemporary or even African-American stylized emotional service. I can move with the best of them and have a charismatic (not tongues, don't worry) side that comes through occasionally. I love Praise and Worship music and am always eager to hear the latest chorus, but I also love "cultivated" choral music of John Rutter or "classical" string playing of Bach or a Handel Organ Sonata. It all plays a role in my faith and my joy of the Lord.
But to return to the question--what is right? What kind of of music, what style, what approach is the right one for churches today? At Ridgecrest, while the piano was important, it was the trap set that drove the music. Except for the Dennis Jernigan concert which was voice and piano, the drums set the tone and style for every hymn or chorus performed. In Biblical times, the drum set did not exist as we know it today. Perhaps this is a good reason to reject it. On the other hand, very little that we have today existed in Biblical times--instruments, lights, carpets, microphones, computers, even dress shoes, etc. Are the drums in themselves pagan or adversely secular? Scripture references drums and cymbals! Is it the beat of the music that is offensive, reminding us of hard rock on the radio with its sexually oriented words? Does a trap set move music from being "cultivated" or "classical" to being "populist" and youth oriented? Or does a trap set simply attempt to cross generation lines and give the music a familiar drive, modernizing old hymns and making them fresh?
Should my academic training govern my preference for "cultivated" or "artistic" church music? Probably not but it is hard to escape just the same. Sometimes I remember the old days at Music week in Glorieta where we focused on a large oratorio by a well-known composer and used a full orchestra and where the magnificent organ drove the hymns to great musical heights. And I get a little tired of the trap set at times and the constant syncopated rhythms of the choruses and the "building up" style of choruses and church music today. Sometimes I long for the days of simplicity and homophony of the hymns where we sang in four-part harmony and did all stanzas (or at least 3 of them!).
And yet there is no denying the powerful emotion of today's church music with its driving rhythms, punctuated text, personal statements, and extremes of joy and sentiment. While I once abhorred those crazed charismatics who lifted their hands toward God in a cheap display of their own false piousness, I now share in that experience which is a glorious way to reach out and physically express a closeness to the Lord our Savior. I cast my judgmental nature aside and accept the myriad ways to express my deepest thoughts of God's goodness. No more anger, no more intolerance, no more criticism (okay, at least not as vitriolic anyway), and no more selfishness, I now realize that God can bless us when we come to Him with an attitude of love, tolerance, and devotion.
Does this mean I have no more standards for music making in church? Absolutely not for I will ALWAYS battle for excellence regardless of the style presented. We should strive for the best in terms of accuracy, sound, text, harmony, and joy. It all plays a part in the worship experience. Praise God for giving us the opportunity to sing and play to Him. Thank God for forgiving us our painful judgments against our fellow man.
Yes, I miss the old days but I love the new days also. Mainly I feel blessed every time I join with my fellow Christians in Praise. Church music is a mess because mankind is a mess. But what the heck, let's jump in and worship in spite of our failings, doing our best to worship Him, and loving each other, setting aside our differences for the sake of the greater good.
North Carolina and music
Being our last day in North Carolina at the Ridgecrest conference center, I feel a need to write a few words of our experience. It is certainly beautiful here among the trees and rolling hills that become mountains of greenery and gentle aesthetic joy. Giant trees adorn the cascading landscape and seem to tower above the land, touching the blue sky that blankets the world in mesmerizing magic.
At first I felt rather claustrophobic in that things seemed close together and the sky was so far away. In Texas, particularly as one travels West, the sky feels close and the sight line extends for miles. Yet here in North Carolina, the sight is limited and one feels like a bird sitting in a nest wondering what glories exist outside of the home. But after a time, I began to accept the landscape and now feel as though a security comforter surrounds me. Different from Texas but splendid in grandeur.
The week itself was enriching in many ways--musically, spiritually, and physically. Highlights include a marvelous concert by Dennis Jernigan, a Christian artist with a strong testimony, immense talent, and an enviable career. Yet many great musicians walked the steps of Ridgecrest this week--Michael Adler, Dick Tunney, Craig Adams, Jay Rouse, the Sisters, and Brian Free and Assurance. One great song after another kept us engaged in worship. Fast, gospel, slow, meaningful, powerful music seemed to merge together to form an unforgettable experience for everyone present. It is hard to say which moment or which song was the favorite.
A side excursion took us to the monumental and famous Biltmore Mansion and estate where we walked and walked from room to room through the gardens and onward to the farm and winery. The magnificent structure was totally captivating including the pantry, dining rooms, exercise room, indoor pool, music room, and lavish art. The room that left me aching was of course the library with two floors of books I was desperate to study and hold. Yet the rope (and the guards) kept me from acting upon my temptations and I exerted great self-control, coveting along the way the books. Quite an experience all told. The rich are different that is for sure.
Back to the conference. Yes we played in the orchestra, hiked the trails, prayed, drank coffee, and even did some book shopping in the little town of Black Mountain down the road. Not wanting to leave yet knowing we must return, I finish this little essay up by saying that I feel blessed to have my family with me and to have the opportunity to worship God in so many ways.
See you back in Texas!
At first I felt rather claustrophobic in that things seemed close together and the sky was so far away. In Texas, particularly as one travels West, the sky feels close and the sight line extends for miles. Yet here in North Carolina, the sight is limited and one feels like a bird sitting in a nest wondering what glories exist outside of the home. But after a time, I began to accept the landscape and now feel as though a security comforter surrounds me. Different from Texas but splendid in grandeur.
The week itself was enriching in many ways--musically, spiritually, and physically. Highlights include a marvelous concert by Dennis Jernigan, a Christian artist with a strong testimony, immense talent, and an enviable career. Yet many great musicians walked the steps of Ridgecrest this week--Michael Adler, Dick Tunney, Craig Adams, Jay Rouse, the Sisters, and Brian Free and Assurance. One great song after another kept us engaged in worship. Fast, gospel, slow, meaningful, powerful music seemed to merge together to form an unforgettable experience for everyone present. It is hard to say which moment or which song was the favorite.
A side excursion took us to the monumental and famous Biltmore Mansion and estate where we walked and walked from room to room through the gardens and onward to the farm and winery. The magnificent structure was totally captivating including the pantry, dining rooms, exercise room, indoor pool, music room, and lavish art. The room that left me aching was of course the library with two floors of books I was desperate to study and hold. Yet the rope (and the guards) kept me from acting upon my temptations and I exerted great self-control, coveting along the way the books. Quite an experience all told. The rich are different that is for sure.
Back to the conference. Yes we played in the orchestra, hiked the trails, prayed, drank coffee, and even did some book shopping in the little town of Black Mountain down the road. Not wanting to leave yet knowing we must return, I finish this little essay up by saying that I feel blessed to have my family with me and to have the opportunity to worship God in so many ways.
See you back in Texas!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Band camp, Ridgecrest
Reflecting on this past week at band camp, I am once again encouraged by today's students. We had a very positive week with over 300 band students on campus. Their spirit was uplifting and while I cannot say I heard zero complaints, I can say I heard very few. They worked hard, played hard, laughed hard, and stayed focused the entire week. There was a dedication to the goals of leadership, musicianship, and skill that was contagious, infecting students and teachers alike, pervading the camp at every level and infusing it with a blend of affirmation, responsibility, and purpose.
The camp though was and always has been hard work for very little monetary gain. In addition to the weeks of preparation, publicity, paperwork, finding staff, getting facilities ready, the week of camp is pretty grueling. Up early every morning, in bed at midnight with a full day of teaching, directing, and solving problems, it takes its toll by the end of the week. Yet my own role is somewhat minimal in that I get to direct the top band but don't have to worry about the weeks of preparation, a job for Corey and Cathy Ash. They did marvelously this year and are to be commended for their thorough approach to the complexities that form band camp. Incidentally, I had a blast directing the Wind Ensemble. What a great band and a wonderful group of students.
And now after a day of rest we head to Ridgecrest for music week. Usually we go to Glorieta but due to the lateness of music week at Glorieta, we opted for Ridgecrest. While I often wish more publishers were involved, and I believe if so we would see a greater influx of music ministers, at the same time there is no question that Mike Harland and staff at Lifeway do a great job. The music is always rich and full with an appropriate blend of old and new designed to teach and to worship. We enjoy playing in the orchestra, walking around the camp, spending time together, and drinking coffee (okay...I enjoy the coffee!). Mostly we feel comfortable letting Joel roam, knowing he will be safe, and allowing him the latitude to experience the camp in ways that are meaningful to him.
After a week in North Carolina, we return and get ready to go to Baptist All-State in Houston. Jordan is going on his 3rd year in Baptist All-State and enjoys it every time. Such a great opportunity to play his instrument for God's glory with other young Christian leaders. Sadly, for many reasons that cannot be articulated in a few sentences, Baptist All-State is much smaller than it used to be and no longer receives the financial backing from the BGCT due to the myriad of ministry needs around the state. While it is certainly understandable, it also makes for an untenable position, charging high rates in an effort to keep the organization legal, protected, positive, and solvent. Yet charging high rates makes it a group comprised of those students with access to resources. This then is the dilemma of churches today. Are we seeking the wealthy to support our institutions or are we truly committed to the mission of outreach for everyone? Are we as Baptists inclusive or exclusive? Is there a balance?
Nevertheless, in spite of the concern, Baptist All-State remains a positive experience for students and its 34 year history has produced hundreds of Christian Leaders. This reminds me of some truths--man seems inevitably to mess things up that are good, and yet God somehow finds a way to create good in spite of man's innumerable flaws!
Onward to North Carolina, Houston, then returning to direct 10 performances of the musical Annie. It all makes for an exciting summer. In the midst of these events, I have found time to do some counseling of former students, help some high school students, work around the house, clean up my office, start my book business, and watch my oldest son get married. Life is grand!
The camp though was and always has been hard work for very little monetary gain. In addition to the weeks of preparation, publicity, paperwork, finding staff, getting facilities ready, the week of camp is pretty grueling. Up early every morning, in bed at midnight with a full day of teaching, directing, and solving problems, it takes its toll by the end of the week. Yet my own role is somewhat minimal in that I get to direct the top band but don't have to worry about the weeks of preparation, a job for Corey and Cathy Ash. They did marvelously this year and are to be commended for their thorough approach to the complexities that form band camp. Incidentally, I had a blast directing the Wind Ensemble. What a great band and a wonderful group of students.
And now after a day of rest we head to Ridgecrest for music week. Usually we go to Glorieta but due to the lateness of music week at Glorieta, we opted for Ridgecrest. While I often wish more publishers were involved, and I believe if so we would see a greater influx of music ministers, at the same time there is no question that Mike Harland and staff at Lifeway do a great job. The music is always rich and full with an appropriate blend of old and new designed to teach and to worship. We enjoy playing in the orchestra, walking around the camp, spending time together, and drinking coffee (okay...I enjoy the coffee!). Mostly we feel comfortable letting Joel roam, knowing he will be safe, and allowing him the latitude to experience the camp in ways that are meaningful to him.
After a week in North Carolina, we return and get ready to go to Baptist All-State in Houston. Jordan is going on his 3rd year in Baptist All-State and enjoys it every time. Such a great opportunity to play his instrument for God's glory with other young Christian leaders. Sadly, for many reasons that cannot be articulated in a few sentences, Baptist All-State is much smaller than it used to be and no longer receives the financial backing from the BGCT due to the myriad of ministry needs around the state. While it is certainly understandable, it also makes for an untenable position, charging high rates in an effort to keep the organization legal, protected, positive, and solvent. Yet charging high rates makes it a group comprised of those students with access to resources. This then is the dilemma of churches today. Are we seeking the wealthy to support our institutions or are we truly committed to the mission of outreach for everyone? Are we as Baptists inclusive or exclusive? Is there a balance?
Nevertheless, in spite of the concern, Baptist All-State remains a positive experience for students and its 34 year history has produced hundreds of Christian Leaders. This reminds me of some truths--man seems inevitably to mess things up that are good, and yet God somehow finds a way to create good in spite of man's innumerable flaws!
Onward to North Carolina, Houston, then returning to direct 10 performances of the musical Annie. It all makes for an exciting summer. In the midst of these events, I have found time to do some counseling of former students, help some high school students, work around the house, clean up my office, start my book business, and watch my oldest son get married. Life is grand!
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Events...
Driving to Brownwood for the visitation of Jay Adams, we had a blow out. After a quick study of the tire, I realized its future was hopeless and decided drive a little longer to find a better spot to change it. Luckily my three boys (practically men now!) were with me. So each of us had a job to do and we got it changed. It would not have been difficult, except for the "packaging" of the system was challenging. Getting the spare tire was especially difficult due to strange instructions in the manual. Finally out of frustration, I crawled under the car and muscled the thing out of its imprisonment. We got it in place and went on our way, all of us dirty, tired, and more than a little cranky.
But I was pleased with how my boys jumped in and helped. They didn't even text message while we were working on the tire. In a few days Jacob, the oldest, will be married to Olivia. We love her and realize he made the perfect choice! She is a special young lady whom we are honored to have in our family. Sometimes I remember my little boy holding my hand when crossing streets and asking me lots of questions, watching sports shows, movies, and singing children's songs. But I'm glad he grew up and now is taking the next step in adult life--marriage! He has also recently had a research project accepted and will be flying to Rhode Island in October for a poster presentation.
Lost another good man this week--Jay Adams. Fine coach, fine man, loved his family. Jay made the world a better place with his values, his personality, and his love of life. Family and fishing ruled the day for Jay who kept his Christian faith throughout his life. He was 53 when the cancer finally won. He will be missed and leaves behind a wife and three daughters.
I can't believe how poorly I played piano this morning. I can really be average at times. I just get a little nervous trying to lead from the piano and sing at the same time. It probably was okay, but I didn't feel great about it overall. Yet worship is really not about me but is about Praising God. Maybe people can overlook my imperfections and Praise God anyway!
Okay, I ended up marking through the forged signatures on two first editions and selling them to Hastings for $5.00 each! One of these books cost me $250. Quite an investment--pay $250 and sell it for $5.00. Talk about a market drop. Oh well. I suppose I could have lost my self-respect and waived my integrity and tried to sell it as a real signature, but I just don't have that in me. Better to rid my stock of the crime, than to perpetuate the evil. You may think I am overstating this but I believe that forging a signature is an evil act of criminality that should be prosecuted. Just because it is a book does not make it any less of a crime. It is a form of identity theft. Books gone and my integrity still intact. In the end, maybe my integrity is worth more than money. What do you think?
Book collecting and selling sure has its ups and downs. I have learned much and my business continues to flounder. Still it is nice to be a small business owner. Just gotta keep working at it. Meanwhile, I have lots of music to write.
But I was pleased with how my boys jumped in and helped. They didn't even text message while we were working on the tire. In a few days Jacob, the oldest, will be married to Olivia. We love her and realize he made the perfect choice! She is a special young lady whom we are honored to have in our family. Sometimes I remember my little boy holding my hand when crossing streets and asking me lots of questions, watching sports shows, movies, and singing children's songs. But I'm glad he grew up and now is taking the next step in adult life--marriage! He has also recently had a research project accepted and will be flying to Rhode Island in October for a poster presentation.
Lost another good man this week--Jay Adams. Fine coach, fine man, loved his family. Jay made the world a better place with his values, his personality, and his love of life. Family and fishing ruled the day for Jay who kept his Christian faith throughout his life. He was 53 when the cancer finally won. He will be missed and leaves behind a wife and three daughters.
I can't believe how poorly I played piano this morning. I can really be average at times. I just get a little nervous trying to lead from the piano and sing at the same time. It probably was okay, but I didn't feel great about it overall. Yet worship is really not about me but is about Praising God. Maybe people can overlook my imperfections and Praise God anyway!
Okay, I ended up marking through the forged signatures on two first editions and selling them to Hastings for $5.00 each! One of these books cost me $250. Quite an investment--pay $250 and sell it for $5.00. Talk about a market drop. Oh well. I suppose I could have lost my self-respect and waived my integrity and tried to sell it as a real signature, but I just don't have that in me. Better to rid my stock of the crime, than to perpetuate the evil. You may think I am overstating this but I believe that forging a signature is an evil act of criminality that should be prosecuted. Just because it is a book does not make it any less of a crime. It is a form of identity theft. Books gone and my integrity still intact. In the end, maybe my integrity is worth more than money. What do you think?
Book collecting and selling sure has its ups and downs. I have learned much and my business continues to flounder. Still it is nice to be a small business owner. Just gotta keep working at it. Meanwhile, I have lots of music to write.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
A word or two on Guardianship
We are the legal guardians of our son Joel in the State of Texas. He is an autistic 20 year old who, although is a joy and makes the world a better place, cannot function independently. We spent quite a bit of money for lawyers and went to court to receive legal guardianship of our son. We did so to keep him protected from anyone who may wish to take advantage of him either in the work place or in a relationship.
His limitations include being unable to drive, being unable to communicate with great meaning, being unaware of subtleties, not understanding danger, and lacking in the imagination needed to solve basic human problems. So we asked to take care of him and be responsible for him. It is a heavy responsibility and goes against the American Dream of getting your kids out of the house and on their own. Yet we are comfortable in the role as guardians. I was confused as to why the court system made it so difficult and expensive until I discovered that some people ask to be guardians of the elderly, particularly those with money. Guardianship includes overseeing accounts belonging to the individual.
Since Joel had no money, it was an easy solution for us to assume guardianship. If we ever leave the state, however, we will have to reapply for guardianship with another state. This means that we will try to transfer his files to another state. Yet, due to a variation of "institutional arrogance" the new state will want us to start the process anew to ensure we are not trying to get control of Joel's estate. Remaining in the state means we will always be responsible for him. We are fine with that and accept it as our obligation to our special needs son. While some may see this as a burden, we, instead, see it as an opportunity to help and protect Joel as he matures and becomes an adult.
Parents of disabled children need to keep careful records and begin to make provisions for the future, including living arrangements, financial help, physical needs, and legal expectations. Guardianship is an adequate solution to those adults unable to make protective decisions for themselves.
His limitations include being unable to drive, being unable to communicate with great meaning, being unaware of subtleties, not understanding danger, and lacking in the imagination needed to solve basic human problems. So we asked to take care of him and be responsible for him. It is a heavy responsibility and goes against the American Dream of getting your kids out of the house and on their own. Yet we are comfortable in the role as guardians. I was confused as to why the court system made it so difficult and expensive until I discovered that some people ask to be guardians of the elderly, particularly those with money. Guardianship includes overseeing accounts belonging to the individual.
Since Joel had no money, it was an easy solution for us to assume guardianship. If we ever leave the state, however, we will have to reapply for guardianship with another state. This means that we will try to transfer his files to another state. Yet, due to a variation of "institutional arrogance" the new state will want us to start the process anew to ensure we are not trying to get control of Joel's estate. Remaining in the state means we will always be responsible for him. We are fine with that and accept it as our obligation to our special needs son. While some may see this as a burden, we, instead, see it as an opportunity to help and protect Joel as he matures and becomes an adult.
Parents of disabled children need to keep careful records and begin to make provisions for the future, including living arrangements, financial help, physical needs, and legal expectations. Guardianship is an adequate solution to those adults unable to make protective decisions for themselves.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
More random thoughts
My youngest son Jordan received a 1st division on his solo at the State solo/ensemble contest. It is a difficult contest and he played an excessively difficult piece-Parable by Persichetti. It is impressive for a junior to receive a first division at state, and he has continually progressed and improved to the point I believe he can become as good as he wants to be. Yet it is in the area of composition that he excels and demonstrates the greatest interest. On the other hand, composing is a tough road these days due to the plethora and eclectic music that pervades our culture.
Like everyone, I am totally disgusted with the ongoing saga of the oil spilling into the Gulf. This is a disaster that will likely affect the ecosystem for years to come. The environment is so incredibly interconnected that a change in the ocean will sympathetically cause a change in climate, germs, animals, not to mention the economy. We are a resilient people and the ecosystem will adjust, but not without pain. Very disturbing.
Church work is a tough gig. Yesterday at a funeral, a young lady wanted to sing with a track but unfortunately the CD did not function. She didn't get to sing at all. Technology causes problems and it is good to have a plan B. Meanwhile my church where I serve out of town is getting a little tougher. Some people are being critical of my choices of music. I work VERY hard to pick a balance of hymns, old choruses, gospel songs, and new choruses in an attempt to reach everyone. But there is always a risk then of offending everyone at least to an extent. Each of us has music preferences but in a collective worship service, we absolutely have to put aside our own preferences and think of the greater good.
I can handle criticism and have done so most of my career, but that doesn't mean I have to like it! Yet as I remind others, most criticism is overstated but most of it also has a grain of truth. The wise leader avoids over reacting but also tries to learn from the invective.
Sleep is often a mystery to me and I probably don't do it enough. We are told to get 7-8 hours yet 5 is common to me. I think I need to exercise more diligently and work on finishing my work each day so I don't go to sleep thinking about work. Also I think that getting older is presenting some challenges--sore heels, joints not moving as quickly, and a neck that needs additional support at night. Just common problems I suspect.
Sad about Al Gore and Tipper. No other thoughts than that I guess.
Like everyone, I am totally disgusted with the ongoing saga of the oil spilling into the Gulf. This is a disaster that will likely affect the ecosystem for years to come. The environment is so incredibly interconnected that a change in the ocean will sympathetically cause a change in climate, germs, animals, not to mention the economy. We are a resilient people and the ecosystem will adjust, but not without pain. Very disturbing.
Church work is a tough gig. Yesterday at a funeral, a young lady wanted to sing with a track but unfortunately the CD did not function. She didn't get to sing at all. Technology causes problems and it is good to have a plan B. Meanwhile my church where I serve out of town is getting a little tougher. Some people are being critical of my choices of music. I work VERY hard to pick a balance of hymns, old choruses, gospel songs, and new choruses in an attempt to reach everyone. But there is always a risk then of offending everyone at least to an extent. Each of us has music preferences but in a collective worship service, we absolutely have to put aside our own preferences and think of the greater good.
I can handle criticism and have done so most of my career, but that doesn't mean I have to like it! Yet as I remind others, most criticism is overstated but most of it also has a grain of truth. The wise leader avoids over reacting but also tries to learn from the invective.
Sleep is often a mystery to me and I probably don't do it enough. We are told to get 7-8 hours yet 5 is common to me. I think I need to exercise more diligently and work on finishing my work each day so I don't go to sleep thinking about work. Also I think that getting older is presenting some challenges--sore heels, joints not moving as quickly, and a neck that needs additional support at night. Just common problems I suspect.
Sad about Al Gore and Tipper. No other thoughts than that I guess.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Books and family
It has been a whirlwind of a few days for me. Saturday Joel and I drove to Burnet to attend Mike Lewis' retirement party. I didn't think Mike was much older than I am, but I guess he had built up many years of teaching and can retire. He has had a wonderful career as a band director and teacher, as exemplified by the hundreds of pictures on the walls at the band hall and the hundreds maybe thousands of students who thanked him. I also treasure his friendship and have always held him in high regard. Fine Christian man and a great teacher for sure.
Sunday morning I drove to Brady and back. Napping and relaxing I received a text from youngest son Jordan wondering if he needed the original music for the state solo contest. The answer was yes. We found the music and proceeded to drive to Austin to deliver it. We arrived home around 9:30, got up early Monday and drove to Denton to deliver more furnishings and clothes to our oldest son and his fiance. We spent the day in Denton, bought a bed, ate lunch, swam in the apartment pool, and came home.
While in Denton, I went to Recycled Books to see if they would buy my two forged first editions I own. This is a source of great stress and consternation for me. I bought two signed first editions for quite a bit of money from a bookstore going out of business. But after further study and comparing signatures, I have determined they are forgeries. The store has a no return policy and now I am stuck. If I sell them as real signatures, I am breaking my own ethical integrity. If I inform a buyer I believe they are forgeries, I will never be able to sell them even as regular books. I could just use them as examples of poor judgment on my part for purchasing them in the first place. Not sure what to do. Recycled Books did not want them and I understand completely. I am embarrassed to have purchased them and almost see these books as evil examples of a terrible form of crime--forging signatures. I may end up circling the signatures in pen and stating they are forgeries. Then turn around and sell them. Mostly I wish I didn't have them. Great books but fake author signatures. Yuck.
Joel was funny yesterday. We pulled into the parking lot in Weatherford between Wendy's and Starbucks. It must have struck a memory tone for him because he proceeded to tell me with great excitement about all the shops in the area. He said two years ago we had parked in the same place. I never know what will trigger his brain into activity. Certain sparks of memory, sound, places, events seem to hyperdrive or give him a brain turbo boost.
Joel is always an adventure is trying to figure him out. Will it ever happen? Doubtful but the journey to that end is filled with joy!
Sunday morning I drove to Brady and back. Napping and relaxing I received a text from youngest son Jordan wondering if he needed the original music for the state solo contest. The answer was yes. We found the music and proceeded to drive to Austin to deliver it. We arrived home around 9:30, got up early Monday and drove to Denton to deliver more furnishings and clothes to our oldest son and his fiance. We spent the day in Denton, bought a bed, ate lunch, swam in the apartment pool, and came home.
While in Denton, I went to Recycled Books to see if they would buy my two forged first editions I own. This is a source of great stress and consternation for me. I bought two signed first editions for quite a bit of money from a bookstore going out of business. But after further study and comparing signatures, I have determined they are forgeries. The store has a no return policy and now I am stuck. If I sell them as real signatures, I am breaking my own ethical integrity. If I inform a buyer I believe they are forgeries, I will never be able to sell them even as regular books. I could just use them as examples of poor judgment on my part for purchasing them in the first place. Not sure what to do. Recycled Books did not want them and I understand completely. I am embarrassed to have purchased them and almost see these books as evil examples of a terrible form of crime--forging signatures. I may end up circling the signatures in pen and stating they are forgeries. Then turn around and sell them. Mostly I wish I didn't have them. Great books but fake author signatures. Yuck.
Joel was funny yesterday. We pulled into the parking lot in Weatherford between Wendy's and Starbucks. It must have struck a memory tone for him because he proceeded to tell me with great excitement about all the shops in the area. He said two years ago we had parked in the same place. I never know what will trigger his brain into activity. Certain sparks of memory, sound, places, events seem to hyperdrive or give him a brain turbo boost.
Joel is always an adventure is trying to figure him out. Will it ever happen? Doubtful but the journey to that end is filled with joy!
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Paragraph bytes for today
Not feeling overly profound but nevertheless needing to write something, I am offering a little information about the past week.
We lost a great man this week. His name was Dann Barger and I really held him in high regard for his humanitarian efforts, his Christian commitment, his personality, and his general demeanor. He died of cancer this week. Thinking about him, I recall his efforts to get me to stop biting my fingernails, a habit that has been a necessary part of my life since childhood. I want to stop but just can't. Dann's method was to address one finger at a time. He held me accountable and I was able to quit on three fingers. But alas I traveled for a few weeks, didn't see him, and fell into the old habits again. Concerned he would be critical, I hesitated to show him. Yet in his patient and firm way, he told me to start over. I think it is time to recommit myself to this project of ending the nail biting.
Dann shared his wisdom, compassion, money, Christianity, and personality with everyone he met. He made the world a better place and helped thousands upon thousands of people, educated and uneducated, rich and poor, regardless of color, background, or attitude. He was absolutely unswerving in his devotion to others. I recall a situation where a man in prison asked to see me. The man had become somewhat obsessed with me and wanted to say some things to me. I was willing to go until Dann advised otherwise. He believed that my visiting the man would ultimately create further problems for him related to the other inmates. Dann was able to think beyond the obvious and delve into the complexities of relationships by always asking the question, "What is best for that individual?" I will miss Dann greatly and want to be more like him.
The board of directors of www.rareandnew.com met for the first time the other day. While they were excited about the new company, several expressed concern to the CEO. Apparently the CEO has not been proactive in holding the departments accountable. The result is low (actually no profits) profits and too much expense. The board encouraged the marketing department, sales, products, accounting, and distribution departments to be more efficient. The entire board was concerned with the poor quality of employees and the lack of productivity.
A man shot himself yesterday. He apparently was struggling with depression. We are not sure why he did this or what the problem was exactly. I feel saddened by the news and wish to do a better job of identifying anyone with depression problems, seeking to help anyone to avoid suicidal thoughts or actions. Life is so precious and so short that we must live it to our fullest each day.
Just finished another Parker book and am about to write another book review. My goal is to have 100 book reviews on Amazon. After my 100 I may get more selective about which books to review. I have always loved modern fiction but lately have found myself more interested in history and biography.
Today is brisket day. I am smoking two briskets, one for a friend and one for us. My system is exhausting but rewarding as well. I soak them in Dr. Pepper all night long, then place them on a hot smoker for about an hour or more. Then I slather them in barbecue sauce, olive oil, cooking wine and wrap them in foil for another 5-6 hours. I keep the smoker fairly hot most of the time until the last hour or so. I then keep them wrapped for about 2-4 hours before cutting. I then serve--pretty darn good stuff.
Listening to the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1. I love this piece and am amazed by the beauty and energy of the 2nd movement. Wonderful music in all respects with an emotional power and sensitivity not often found in concertos of the time.
Back to www.rareandnew.com. I am the owner, CEO, board of directors, marketing agent, sales department, distribution, and accountant. So far my business has gone nowhere with no sales at all. This could be the way it is. Kind of sad but also funny in a way!
We lost a great man this week. His name was Dann Barger and I really held him in high regard for his humanitarian efforts, his Christian commitment, his personality, and his general demeanor. He died of cancer this week. Thinking about him, I recall his efforts to get me to stop biting my fingernails, a habit that has been a necessary part of my life since childhood. I want to stop but just can't. Dann's method was to address one finger at a time. He held me accountable and I was able to quit on three fingers. But alas I traveled for a few weeks, didn't see him, and fell into the old habits again. Concerned he would be critical, I hesitated to show him. Yet in his patient and firm way, he told me to start over. I think it is time to recommit myself to this project of ending the nail biting.
Dann shared his wisdom, compassion, money, Christianity, and personality with everyone he met. He made the world a better place and helped thousands upon thousands of people, educated and uneducated, rich and poor, regardless of color, background, or attitude. He was absolutely unswerving in his devotion to others. I recall a situation where a man in prison asked to see me. The man had become somewhat obsessed with me and wanted to say some things to me. I was willing to go until Dann advised otherwise. He believed that my visiting the man would ultimately create further problems for him related to the other inmates. Dann was able to think beyond the obvious and delve into the complexities of relationships by always asking the question, "What is best for that individual?" I will miss Dann greatly and want to be more like him.
The board of directors of www.rareandnew.com met for the first time the other day. While they were excited about the new company, several expressed concern to the CEO. Apparently the CEO has not been proactive in holding the departments accountable. The result is low (actually no profits) profits and too much expense. The board encouraged the marketing department, sales, products, accounting, and distribution departments to be more efficient. The entire board was concerned with the poor quality of employees and the lack of productivity.
A man shot himself yesterday. He apparently was struggling with depression. We are not sure why he did this or what the problem was exactly. I feel saddened by the news and wish to do a better job of identifying anyone with depression problems, seeking to help anyone to avoid suicidal thoughts or actions. Life is so precious and so short that we must live it to our fullest each day.
Just finished another Parker book and am about to write another book review. My goal is to have 100 book reviews on Amazon. After my 100 I may get more selective about which books to review. I have always loved modern fiction but lately have found myself more interested in history and biography.
Today is brisket day. I am smoking two briskets, one for a friend and one for us. My system is exhausting but rewarding as well. I soak them in Dr. Pepper all night long, then place them on a hot smoker for about an hour or more. Then I slather them in barbecue sauce, olive oil, cooking wine and wrap them in foil for another 5-6 hours. I keep the smoker fairly hot most of the time until the last hour or so. I then keep them wrapped for about 2-4 hours before cutting. I then serve--pretty darn good stuff.
Listening to the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1. I love this piece and am amazed by the beauty and energy of the 2nd movement. Wonderful music in all respects with an emotional power and sensitivity not often found in concertos of the time.
Back to www.rareandnew.com. I am the owner, CEO, board of directors, marketing agent, sales department, distribution, and accountant. So far my business has gone nowhere with no sales at all. This could be the way it is. Kind of sad but also funny in a way!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Religious Division
Lately I have been a little discouraged with the division that exists in churches today, across denominations, and within the same basic belief system. Friendships ruined, families divided, institutions polarized, and nations at war. There are many causes of division which can range from major doctrinal disagreements to slight Biblical interpretations including practice and even human behavior. Color of carpet, size of sound systems, organ, piano, drums, guitar, screen, teenagers, children, older adults and the list goes on and on with division leading the way.
I as a classic moderate seeking after divine truth but open to Biblical interpretation with application today, continually marvel at how a simple, personal belief can wreak havoc on relationships, severing them completely and irrevocably. It is just downright sad. Yet it is also understandable when we consider the human spirit. So many things in life are simply preference of the individual from the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the music we hear, the relationships we build, all help shape the idea of individuality over collectivism.
But it seems that the more we establish a standard of beliefs, practice, or acceptance, the more likely we are to exclude an individual or group. For example, if a person only likes chicken and does not like hamburgers, then he casts a net of rejection over all cafes serving hamburgers. He may then, inadvertently, extend that rejection to anyone frequenting those establishments serving hamburgers. In his rejection of a person's preference, he focuses on the individual, grouping that person in the "other" camp, thereby polarizing the position of chicken versus hamburgers. All rather silly since it simply involves taste, but it is real nevertheless.
Obviously food preference should not be compared with Kingdom issues and yet there is a correlation in that a person's taste or preference simply defines the individual. In religion however, we attempt to serve the individual and create the collective at the same time, wanting to group together the individual choices made and call them denominations, reject those who don't think like we do. Silly yes, but real nevertheless.
While I do not wish to water down the value of the spiritual or get mired into the mediocrity of the lower common denominator, at the same time I do desire for our faith to unify us, not separate us. To that end, I will choose my own theology based on study, prayer, knowledge, and teaching. In doing so, I will reject the theology that is different, but I will NOT reject the people taking a different road to the same goal. Perhaps I will be the rejected one, but regardless, let it not be said that I did the rejecting of the person. Authoring peace and harmony, I may be accused of flexible standards occasionally or of embracing love over war or of accepting those who are missing the mark or of rejoicing over the consonance rather than the voluminous dissonance, disagreements are usually louder than agreements. But if I am accused of such things, then may I indeed be guilty, for division in religion cannot be healthy.
I preach and teach harmony as a result of many congruent melodies operating within a social context. To my friends and family who practice and believe something slightly different I say yes we have our preferences, but let's continue to make music!
I as a classic moderate seeking after divine truth but open to Biblical interpretation with application today, continually marvel at how a simple, personal belief can wreak havoc on relationships, severing them completely and irrevocably. It is just downright sad. Yet it is also understandable when we consider the human spirit. So many things in life are simply preference of the individual from the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the music we hear, the relationships we build, all help shape the idea of individuality over collectivism.
But it seems that the more we establish a standard of beliefs, practice, or acceptance, the more likely we are to exclude an individual or group. For example, if a person only likes chicken and does not like hamburgers, then he casts a net of rejection over all cafes serving hamburgers. He may then, inadvertently, extend that rejection to anyone frequenting those establishments serving hamburgers. In his rejection of a person's preference, he focuses on the individual, grouping that person in the "other" camp, thereby polarizing the position of chicken versus hamburgers. All rather silly since it simply involves taste, but it is real nevertheless.
Obviously food preference should not be compared with Kingdom issues and yet there is a correlation in that a person's taste or preference simply defines the individual. In religion however, we attempt to serve the individual and create the collective at the same time, wanting to group together the individual choices made and call them denominations, reject those who don't think like we do. Silly yes, but real nevertheless.
While I do not wish to water down the value of the spiritual or get mired into the mediocrity of the lower common denominator, at the same time I do desire for our faith to unify us, not separate us. To that end, I will choose my own theology based on study, prayer, knowledge, and teaching. In doing so, I will reject the theology that is different, but I will NOT reject the people taking a different road to the same goal. Perhaps I will be the rejected one, but regardless, let it not be said that I did the rejecting of the person. Authoring peace and harmony, I may be accused of flexible standards occasionally or of embracing love over war or of accepting those who are missing the mark or of rejoicing over the consonance rather than the voluminous dissonance, disagreements are usually louder than agreements. But if I am accused of such things, then may I indeed be guilty, for division in religion cannot be healthy.
I preach and teach harmony as a result of many congruent melodies operating within a social context. To my friends and family who practice and believe something slightly different I say yes we have our preferences, but let's continue to make music!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
More on performing
After reading my last entry, I decided to write something a little more positive. True that performing has been an albatross on my neck at times, partially due to my own demands and partially due to my abilities. Not in his league yet able to relate to his feelings, Pablo Casals, the great cellist once said after falling and breaking his hand, "I'll never have to play the cello again!" Being good at something is a double-edged sword, one that brings great pleasure and great burden simultaneously.
That said, I have been blessed to have the opportunity to play my horn in outstanding orchestras all my life--El Paso, Cincinnati, Dayton, Midland, Lake Charles, San Angelo, Abilene, to name a few. Beethoven, Mahler, Brahms, Strauss, Stravinsky are but a few of the composers I have performed on a large scale. In addition, I have performed all the Mozart concertos at some point, the woodwind quintet repertoire, brass quintet repertoire, and a plethora of chamber music of all shapes and sizes. Add to this a vast amount of experience playing and conducting concert bands, and it all forms a pretty experienced horn performer.
I have played first horn as a soloist, 2nd, 3rd, and my personal favorite--4th horn (I like being last chair!). I have rejoiced in the amazing performances of great pieces, and sweated through the difficult ones. I have had funny events in performance, dramatic events, emotional moments, apathetic ones, dull ones, and tremendously moving ones. It has been and hopefully will continue to be an exciting career as a performer. I intend to keep my horn active when possible and not let it collect too much dust. When I hold it, it feels like an old friend and I find myself immediately drawn into the relationship of comfort. We have been together through thick and thin, richer and poorer, in sickness and health (okay, getting a little weird I know!).
Deep down, in spite of my topsy-turvy emotions of horn playing, I feel lucky to have the ability to play and blessed to have had experiences that in many ways are like dreams. I often thank the Lord for giving me the things I need "the family, the job, the friends, and the horn!"
That said, I have been blessed to have the opportunity to play my horn in outstanding orchestras all my life--El Paso, Cincinnati, Dayton, Midland, Lake Charles, San Angelo, Abilene, to name a few. Beethoven, Mahler, Brahms, Strauss, Stravinsky are but a few of the composers I have performed on a large scale. In addition, I have performed all the Mozart concertos at some point, the woodwind quintet repertoire, brass quintet repertoire, and a plethora of chamber music of all shapes and sizes. Add to this a vast amount of experience playing and conducting concert bands, and it all forms a pretty experienced horn performer.
I have played first horn as a soloist, 2nd, 3rd, and my personal favorite--4th horn (I like being last chair!). I have rejoiced in the amazing performances of great pieces, and sweated through the difficult ones. I have had funny events in performance, dramatic events, emotional moments, apathetic ones, dull ones, and tremendously moving ones. It has been and hopefully will continue to be an exciting career as a performer. I intend to keep my horn active when possible and not let it collect too much dust. When I hold it, it feels like an old friend and I find myself immediately drawn into the relationship of comfort. We have been together through thick and thin, richer and poorer, in sickness and health (okay, getting a little weird I know!).
Deep down, in spite of my topsy-turvy emotions of horn playing, I feel lucky to have the ability to play and blessed to have had experiences that in many ways are like dreams. I often thank the Lord for giving me the things I need "the family, the job, the friends, and the horn!"
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Performing Music
Spending my life as a performing musician has been and continues to be full of great joy mingled with extreme anxiety. In my teens and onward through my twenties, I experienced excessive performance anxiety nearly all the time on stage. The symptoms ranged from shaking to breathing problems to a near catatonic state of neurological misfiring. Often unable to speak, feeling like an impending stroke, and wondering if the shimmering waves of death were upon me, I played my horn with dread, anticipating the conclusion so I could live in the normal world again until the next time.
Part of the problem of my performance anxiety, in addition to my excessive adrenalin and desire for perfection, is my need to be better than last time. Each performance should provide a basket full of musical lessons that can be applied for the next performance. In this manner, a lifetime of performances ought to result in perfection at some point. Yet for me, the elusive dream of flawless performance seemed to slowly but surely be unattainable. And in truth it is. I can never be good enough in that there is always room for improvement. Intonation, articulation, phrasing, technique, communication, dynamics, precision, expression, accuracy. All of these and more must get better at each performance.
This kind of commitment causes an inevitable neurosis of confusion for a performer. The need to be bold like a lion yet sensitive like a lamb adds to the myriad demands, not to mention the expectations of others. For me it has both added to and subtracted from the joy of music. My dissatisfaction with myself as a musician has torn me into emotional shreds while teaching me to accept the ultimate truth of imperfection being okay. So I dedicate myself to excellence, offer my best, work diligently for it, present it, and then let it go.
The result is a deepening awareness of my own failings but also a greater sense of the joy of making music. I cannot be perfect but I can love what I do. Ultimately it is about communicating and manifesting to the world what is inside. And as my friend Mike Ewald used to say, "Keep your mind, your body, your music, and your spiritual life strong by working on them constantly."
Performance anxiety gone replaced by joy--as it should be! That said, I need to practice more to be ready for the next gig.
Part of the problem of my performance anxiety, in addition to my excessive adrenalin and desire for perfection, is my need to be better than last time. Each performance should provide a basket full of musical lessons that can be applied for the next performance. In this manner, a lifetime of performances ought to result in perfection at some point. Yet for me, the elusive dream of flawless performance seemed to slowly but surely be unattainable. And in truth it is. I can never be good enough in that there is always room for improvement. Intonation, articulation, phrasing, technique, communication, dynamics, precision, expression, accuracy. All of these and more must get better at each performance.
This kind of commitment causes an inevitable neurosis of confusion for a performer. The need to be bold like a lion yet sensitive like a lamb adds to the myriad demands, not to mention the expectations of others. For me it has both added to and subtracted from the joy of music. My dissatisfaction with myself as a musician has torn me into emotional shreds while teaching me to accept the ultimate truth of imperfection being okay. So I dedicate myself to excellence, offer my best, work diligently for it, present it, and then let it go.
The result is a deepening awareness of my own failings but also a greater sense of the joy of making music. I cannot be perfect but I can love what I do. Ultimately it is about communicating and manifesting to the world what is inside. And as my friend Mike Ewald used to say, "Keep your mind, your body, your music, and your spiritual life strong by working on them constantly."
Performance anxiety gone replaced by joy--as it should be! That said, I need to practice more to be ready for the next gig.
More on composing music
Being an intermittent, not so prolific composer since the age of 15, I often vacillate between the euphoria of a public performance of my music and the discouragement of few to no performances of my music. This is not to say I haven't had some success. I have five official publications, many commissions, and a portfolio of music that would be the envy of many composers. My music has been performed throughout Texas, Louisiana, and even Arkansas. I have heard of performances in other states but have not received official documentation for those.
I am comfortable writing in a wide variety of genres, styles, instrumentation, and forms. My music has moments of darkness, profundity, complexity, and intellectualism for the educated elite. Other times my music is fun, light, shimmering with joyful energy, with an attempt to cast the net broadly and reach the masses. I like wide dynamic contrasts and find myself writing in extremes--fast, slow, loud, soft, dark, light. Influenced by modern culture yet steeped in the classics, my music ranges from Mozart-like and Brahmsish to 70's rock and jazz. The objective fastidiousness of Messiaen, Webern, and Boulez also creeps in at times in my music.
Yet I continually question not just my abilities but mostly my purpose in writing music at all. Do people really care that much about it? Am I altering the world in any way with my musical expressions? Is it worth the effort?
I write music because it is in me to write. I do not write for the money (and it's a darn good thing too!), I do not write because I have something new to say (much of my music sounds like other things heard I suspect), and I do not write because anyone makes me. I write music because I have to for my own satisfaction.
As said before, each piece I finish feels like an extraction of part of my heart and soul. I reach down deep and give part of myself to the world. As I feel exhausted and partially lost from the outpouring of my soul, at the same moment, I feel invigorated, with my batteries getting recharged. I lose and gain from every piece.
So in spite of my general lack of compositional success, I forge ahead, needing to write what lies inside, hoping something will catch on, and seeking at least to an extent a little public affirmation and appreciation for the next Tucker piece!
I am comfortable writing in a wide variety of genres, styles, instrumentation, and forms. My music has moments of darkness, profundity, complexity, and intellectualism for the educated elite. Other times my music is fun, light, shimmering with joyful energy, with an attempt to cast the net broadly and reach the masses. I like wide dynamic contrasts and find myself writing in extremes--fast, slow, loud, soft, dark, light. Influenced by modern culture yet steeped in the classics, my music ranges from Mozart-like and Brahmsish to 70's rock and jazz. The objective fastidiousness of Messiaen, Webern, and Boulez also creeps in at times in my music.
Yet I continually question not just my abilities but mostly my purpose in writing music at all. Do people really care that much about it? Am I altering the world in any way with my musical expressions? Is it worth the effort?
I write music because it is in me to write. I do not write for the money (and it's a darn good thing too!), I do not write because I have something new to say (much of my music sounds like other things heard I suspect), and I do not write because anyone makes me. I write music because I have to for my own satisfaction.
As said before, each piece I finish feels like an extraction of part of my heart and soul. I reach down deep and give part of myself to the world. As I feel exhausted and partially lost from the outpouring of my soul, at the same moment, I feel invigorated, with my batteries getting recharged. I lose and gain from every piece.
So in spite of my general lack of compositional success, I forge ahead, needing to write what lies inside, hoping something will catch on, and seeking at least to an extent a little public affirmation and appreciation for the next Tucker piece!
Saturday, May 08, 2010
A bit of whining
I am not a whiner normally. Like anybody, I do get a little down here and there, but try to keep myself going through exercise, reading, writing, and various academic disciplines. But I would like to take a moment to whine a little. I am not whining, however that for the second year in a row, I was not announced as a dean at our commencement ceremony. I believe it was just an oversight on the officials part and I simply was not on the script. When it happened today, I should have been hurt and disappointed, but honestly I was not. It did not bother me at all (I think my family members were upset a little), shrugging it off as a mistake. I do not need public affirmation for my status or position in life. Were I a millionaire, I would have no personal need for anyone to know. Were I the President of the university or a CEO of a large corporation or a brain surgeon, I would have no ego need to be affirmed for my position or any attainments that have been achieved. Status is earned from productivity and achievement, making the production much more valuable than the position.
Yet in contrast, and here is where I start whining, last year I wrote a piece of music for the commencement. Polite applause followed the performance of the song for soprano and piano and I received a total of two compliments after the ceremony. It was and continues to be difficult to be aware that the piece I wrote was not well-received (particularly since I think it is very strong piece of music), and hard for me to realize that nobody really cares about the amount of work it takes to write a piece of music. If I cannot be affirmed for the actual piece, perhaps someone could acknowledge effort?
So once again I wrote another piece for the commencement this year. Except this year was a vibrant, shimmering arrangement of a familiar hymn. It zinged along at a fast pace, expressing the joy of the Almighty King, replete with a wide range of dynamics and rhythmic energy. My name was in the program but nothing was said that the Dean of Music wrote the piece and it was a premiere performance.
Admittedly I wrote the piece in about a week, but it was still an outpouring of what is in me. Every time I write a new piece, I feel as though I have both lost and gained a part of me. My music is a manifestation of my emotions, my thoughts, my reflection, and my world-view. This means that each time it comes forth, I have given part of me to the world, yet gained an opportunity to cleanse myself of those expressions.
Knowing though that I am probably an average composer, and that my music will not survive the test of time, I often wish I would be affirmed not for my status or position, which has very little meaning to me, but rather for my production. For when I leave this earth, I want to give two things back to the world: my family and my work. My family in the form of my sons, their wives, and eventually their children. My work in the form of writing words and music. And therefore I request of those who know me to acknowledge my external musical and literary expressions, giving respect to the effort to create something, offering acknowledgment for the time spent and the emotions portrayed. The light of the world shines on those who discard self-pity and selflessly reach out in goodness, so please forgive my pathetic whining. Every now and then I think I need it.
Yet in contrast, and here is where I start whining, last year I wrote a piece of music for the commencement. Polite applause followed the performance of the song for soprano and piano and I received a total of two compliments after the ceremony. It was and continues to be difficult to be aware that the piece I wrote was not well-received (particularly since I think it is very strong piece of music), and hard for me to realize that nobody really cares about the amount of work it takes to write a piece of music. If I cannot be affirmed for the actual piece, perhaps someone could acknowledge effort?
So once again I wrote another piece for the commencement this year. Except this year was a vibrant, shimmering arrangement of a familiar hymn. It zinged along at a fast pace, expressing the joy of the Almighty King, replete with a wide range of dynamics and rhythmic energy. My name was in the program but nothing was said that the Dean of Music wrote the piece and it was a premiere performance.
Admittedly I wrote the piece in about a week, but it was still an outpouring of what is in me. Every time I write a new piece, I feel as though I have both lost and gained a part of me. My music is a manifestation of my emotions, my thoughts, my reflection, and my world-view. This means that each time it comes forth, I have given part of me to the world, yet gained an opportunity to cleanse myself of those expressions.
Knowing though that I am probably an average composer, and that my music will not survive the test of time, I often wish I would be affirmed not for my status or position, which has very little meaning to me, but rather for my production. For when I leave this earth, I want to give two things back to the world: my family and my work. My family in the form of my sons, their wives, and eventually their children. My work in the form of writing words and music. And therefore I request of those who know me to acknowledge my external musical and literary expressions, giving respect to the effort to create something, offering acknowledgment for the time spent and the emotions portrayed. The light of the world shines on those who discard self-pity and selflessly reach out in goodness, so please forgive my pathetic whining. Every now and then I think I need it.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
A new installment of a text from Joel
We continue to receive long texts from Joel that are both informative and useful.
Hey dad is my coat that i bought at j.c. Penney back from the cleaners? I am wanting to wear it sunday at church! What are you going to wear this sunday dad? I am going to wear all black this sunday? It is supposed to get really cold this weekend! I think it is supposed to snow on sunday again! I am ready to have the ultimate snowball fight and build a really big snowman with sticks and a stick for a nose and a hate a scarf for buttons for eyes mouth and shirt and my tie around its neck! I am just ready to play the organ at church around jacob's spring break! I might play some easter hymns like christ the lord is risen today, crown him with many crowns, and it is well with my soul! I might want to do them for an easter medley! I am about to be on my way to HPU here in a few minutes! I will see you in fifteen minutes! I am just about to get a drink of water and head out of here! I will ttyl bye father!!!!!!! :-)
I notice that he is foregoing the capitalization process in his texts although he still needs to be complete in everything else. The ttyl is a good sign overall I think. While I miss the precision a little (since that was part of the charm of Joel's earlier texts), I think his lack of precision is actually a good sign. It has been said by Temple Grandin that autism improves slowly over a period of time. I believe this is due to the ability to cope and find ways to fit into a world that otherwise does not make sense. Sort of an ability to be a successful actor in order for others to accept you into their world.
Perhaps Joel is finding a way to pretend he is normal and find a way to adjust to the strange world in which he finds himself.
Hey dad is my coat that i bought at j.c. Penney back from the cleaners? I am wanting to wear it sunday at church! What are you going to wear this sunday dad? I am going to wear all black this sunday? It is supposed to get really cold this weekend! I think it is supposed to snow on sunday again! I am ready to have the ultimate snowball fight and build a really big snowman with sticks and a stick for a nose and a hate a scarf for buttons for eyes mouth and shirt and my tie around its neck! I am just ready to play the organ at church around jacob's spring break! I might play some easter hymns like christ the lord is risen today, crown him with many crowns, and it is well with my soul! I might want to do them for an easter medley! I am about to be on my way to HPU here in a few minutes! I will see you in fifteen minutes! I am just about to get a drink of water and head out of here! I will ttyl bye father!!!!!!! :-)
I notice that he is foregoing the capitalization process in his texts although he still needs to be complete in everything else. The ttyl is a good sign overall I think. While I miss the precision a little (since that was part of the charm of Joel's earlier texts), I think his lack of precision is actually a good sign. It has been said by Temple Grandin that autism improves slowly over a period of time. I believe this is due to the ability to cope and find ways to fit into a world that otherwise does not make sense. Sort of an ability to be a successful actor in order for others to accept you into their world.
Perhaps Joel is finding a way to pretend he is normal and find a way to adjust to the strange world in which he finds himself.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
New suit and steps
Tired of Joel using my pants (we are close to the same size in pants in spite of his being taller and thinner), because of his insistence on wearing black, pleated pants, I finally convinced him it was time to buy some new ones. Expanding this concept to a complete suit, it was with great anticipation that we headed to J.C. Penney to buy new clothes, clothes that would hopefully prevent him from getting my clothes out of my closet!
On the way it occurred to me to ask him some questions about work. He works every afternoon in the public library putting away books that have been placed on the cart. Some days he puts away as many as 70 while other days it is around 30. The books range from fiction to reference to children's books. He says he has NEVER placed a book in the wrong place and he further insists he knows the location of every book in the library. As we talked, I asked him if putting the books away, required many steps. He said yes and said sometimes just 300 steps but other days as much as 700. A little surprised, although I probably should not be, I asked him if he counted his steps everyday. He said yes.
More questioning revealed that he has counted his steps in various locations and various trips for ten years. There are about 350 steps from my office to the cafeteria, 450 from the library to the church, 200 from church to my office. Having never given much thought to the number of steps from one place to another, I realized that for Joel, in many ways, every step is victory! Never easy for him, as he journeys, he is accomplishing something special and positive. Maybe we should all consider our steps along the way.
Back to the suit. Walking into Penney's and heading for the men's section, Joel reminded me of the need to find pleated pants and a matching coat. This should have been a clue to the upcoming events. We proceeded to look at nearly every pair of black pants hanging or folded on the shelves. Identifying the pleated ones, we then could not seem to settle on the size. I kept mentioning that he probably was a 32/34, but he kept insisting he was a 34/32. I did say that a waist size of 33 was probably about right and he agreed. We found some black 33/34 that were perfect but couldn't find a matching coat. I found some 34/32 and matching coat but he was not happy. On and on, until finally I just said to buy whatever he wanted. This is a typical reaction to the frustrations he presents.
In the end, he found a nice matching suit with pleated pants. We paid and went home where I collapsed on the couch. Of course, he was happy and got dressed in his new suit for the band banquet. At the banquet, he spilled guacamole on his new coat which is currently at the cleaners!
On the way it occurred to me to ask him some questions about work. He works every afternoon in the public library putting away books that have been placed on the cart. Some days he puts away as many as 70 while other days it is around 30. The books range from fiction to reference to children's books. He says he has NEVER placed a book in the wrong place and he further insists he knows the location of every book in the library. As we talked, I asked him if putting the books away, required many steps. He said yes and said sometimes just 300 steps but other days as much as 700. A little surprised, although I probably should not be, I asked him if he counted his steps everyday. He said yes.
More questioning revealed that he has counted his steps in various locations and various trips for ten years. There are about 350 steps from my office to the cafeteria, 450 from the library to the church, 200 from church to my office. Having never given much thought to the number of steps from one place to another, I realized that for Joel, in many ways, every step is victory! Never easy for him, as he journeys, he is accomplishing something special and positive. Maybe we should all consider our steps along the way.
Back to the suit. Walking into Penney's and heading for the men's section, Joel reminded me of the need to find pleated pants and a matching coat. This should have been a clue to the upcoming events. We proceeded to look at nearly every pair of black pants hanging or folded on the shelves. Identifying the pleated ones, we then could not seem to settle on the size. I kept mentioning that he probably was a 32/34, but he kept insisting he was a 34/32. I did say that a waist size of 33 was probably about right and he agreed. We found some black 33/34 that were perfect but couldn't find a matching coat. I found some 34/32 and matching coat but he was not happy. On and on, until finally I just said to buy whatever he wanted. This is a typical reaction to the frustrations he presents.
In the end, he found a nice matching suit with pleated pants. We paid and went home where I collapsed on the couch. Of course, he was happy and got dressed in his new suit for the band banquet. At the banquet, he spilled guacamole on his new coat which is currently at the cleaners!
Friday, February 05, 2010
Two Razors
He could not get past the fact that two razors instead of one were in the shower. It caused him great consternation, leading to an total interruption of the process of showering, resulting in emotional grief unlike anything experienced in a long time.
As an autistic 20 year old, Joel relies on routine and established expectations for his general practice and behavior. Although somewhat flexible in certain situations, it is usually in circumstances where there is not an expected routine or expected ordering of events. Were we to set out on an adventure to the mall or the lake or to another city, because Joel is not sure what to expect, he prescribes his lack of anticipation. He decides in advance that his world cannot be ordered so it then becomes comfortable to adjust to the circumstances. Yet if he knows what to expect, has pre-ordered said events, prescribed the details in his mind, then his world gets rocked when the system is altered.
He plans the event unless the plan is not to have a plan. In a general sense, he enjoys knowing where we are going and what we are going to do, but he has no need to know the specifics. Yet, we must be careful for to present the specific information would be to set him up for despair. For example, we may make a trip to Abilene to go shopping. We leave this idea "open" to an extent so as not to have him order the shopping events and prescribe where we are going exactly, how we will proceed, and exactly what will happen. To do so is to guarantee tension when the plans are altered. The plan then is to have no plan which is fine with Joel.
But when there is a plan, and it is outlined specifically, then we must follow it. While routine is necessary in Joel's world, it can also be a little frustrating. Such was the case with the two razors in the shower.
Altering Joel's expectations creates a huge teeter-totter of insecurity and one that is only settled by putting the situation back in his control. Although he operates rationally and objectively, often devoid of emotion based decisions, when his expectations are not met, logical rational explanations do not solve the problem. He sees the two razors in the shower and expecting only one (and it must be the right one), gets very upset and demands the removal of the wrong one. My suspicion is that had we not removed it, he would have refused to shave and justified his refusal by the presence of the two razors.
Using the situation as a "teachable moment" would have been a total failure. While part of me wanted to explain that two razors are better than one or that two razors signifies the possibility that one is becoming dull or that he has a right to choose which one he wants or that life doesn't always work out the way we want, I also recognized that removing the unwanted object would quickly solve the problem. So I did and all was well. He shaved and came out happy.
We continue to make effort to educate Joel how to deal with those happenstance events that are out of our and his control and to help him cope with the unexpected, to be flexible, to make "lemonade out of lemons." Yet in spite of our continued and dedicated effort, there are times when the best approach is to fix the problem and go on. Such is the complicate world of parenting an autistic child. It can be quite entertaining, or quite frightening, but it is always something new!
As an autistic 20 year old, Joel relies on routine and established expectations for his general practice and behavior. Although somewhat flexible in certain situations, it is usually in circumstances where there is not an expected routine or expected ordering of events. Were we to set out on an adventure to the mall or the lake or to another city, because Joel is not sure what to expect, he prescribes his lack of anticipation. He decides in advance that his world cannot be ordered so it then becomes comfortable to adjust to the circumstances. Yet if he knows what to expect, has pre-ordered said events, prescribed the details in his mind, then his world gets rocked when the system is altered.
He plans the event unless the plan is not to have a plan. In a general sense, he enjoys knowing where we are going and what we are going to do, but he has no need to know the specifics. Yet, we must be careful for to present the specific information would be to set him up for despair. For example, we may make a trip to Abilene to go shopping. We leave this idea "open" to an extent so as not to have him order the shopping events and prescribe where we are going exactly, how we will proceed, and exactly what will happen. To do so is to guarantee tension when the plans are altered. The plan then is to have no plan which is fine with Joel.
But when there is a plan, and it is outlined specifically, then we must follow it. While routine is necessary in Joel's world, it can also be a little frustrating. Such was the case with the two razors in the shower.
Altering Joel's expectations creates a huge teeter-totter of insecurity and one that is only settled by putting the situation back in his control. Although he operates rationally and objectively, often devoid of emotion based decisions, when his expectations are not met, logical rational explanations do not solve the problem. He sees the two razors in the shower and expecting only one (and it must be the right one), gets very upset and demands the removal of the wrong one. My suspicion is that had we not removed it, he would have refused to shave and justified his refusal by the presence of the two razors.
Using the situation as a "teachable moment" would have been a total failure. While part of me wanted to explain that two razors are better than one or that two razors signifies the possibility that one is becoming dull or that he has a right to choose which one he wants or that life doesn't always work out the way we want, I also recognized that removing the unwanted object would quickly solve the problem. So I did and all was well. He shaved and came out happy.
We continue to make effort to educate Joel how to deal with those happenstance events that are out of our and his control and to help him cope with the unexpected, to be flexible, to make "lemonade out of lemons." Yet in spite of our continued and dedicated effort, there are times when the best approach is to fix the problem and go on. Such is the complicate world of parenting an autistic child. It can be quite entertaining, or quite frightening, but it is always something new!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Booking again
At a music conference for music administrators but finally getting some time to get away, I headed to a large bookstore to scout for some good deals, and it was certainly productive. This particular shop is extensive with a very nice collectible section in the back. After walking through the front door, I did my usual pause and took a moment for a quick study. I enjoy the smell, the energy, the general ambiance of a book store and am particularly interested in the focus. As I have mentioned before, most stores tend to emphasize certain genres of book. This store has a large collectible section but also an extensive non-fiction section.
On the way back to the collectibles, I glanced over and saw several McMurtry books on the shelf. Since I already own a very fine collection of First edition McMurtry books, I was not necessarily curious about the ones I saw. Yet, I paused just in case, recalling the time last year when I found a 2nd printing Horseman, Pass By worth around $150. It was priced at $5.98! So I decided a quick look was certainly appropriate.
Owning 2 copies of Lonesome Dove, I generally have no need to see what editions are on the shelf. Lonesome Dove is probably McMurtry's most famous book due to the movie and subsequent series on television. Also the Pulitzer prize has helped it along! It is a great read and certainly recommended. In some ways, the ultimate Western journey book. Anyway, I pulled out a 17th printing Lonesome Dove and quickly placed it back. Fine book but not collectible and not valued at any more than about $10.00. Beside it stood another copy. A little curious, I pulled it out of the shelf and to my shock realized I was holding a 1st edition, 1st printing before the Pulitzer emblem was placed on the jacket! I checked the point (there is a misspelled word on 621), looked at the condition, and realized I was holding a treasure. Aside from someone's name in pen on the inside board, it was a clean copy in fine condition. All for $9.98!
I grabbed it, did some more scouting, and ended up with a nice little collection including a signed McGarrity, a signed Koontz, a nice Updike, and a signed Morrell. It was all exciting stuff for a book scout and a very productive evening. I am around the corner from starting my own online bookstore called www.rareandnew.com.
On the way back to the collectibles, I glanced over and saw several McMurtry books on the shelf. Since I already own a very fine collection of First edition McMurtry books, I was not necessarily curious about the ones I saw. Yet, I paused just in case, recalling the time last year when I found a 2nd printing Horseman, Pass By worth around $150. It was priced at $5.98! So I decided a quick look was certainly appropriate.
Owning 2 copies of Lonesome Dove, I generally have no need to see what editions are on the shelf. Lonesome Dove is probably McMurtry's most famous book due to the movie and subsequent series on television. Also the Pulitzer prize has helped it along! It is a great read and certainly recommended. In some ways, the ultimate Western journey book. Anyway, I pulled out a 17th printing Lonesome Dove and quickly placed it back. Fine book but not collectible and not valued at any more than about $10.00. Beside it stood another copy. A little curious, I pulled it out of the shelf and to my shock realized I was holding a 1st edition, 1st printing before the Pulitzer emblem was placed on the jacket! I checked the point (there is a misspelled word on 621), looked at the condition, and realized I was holding a treasure. Aside from someone's name in pen on the inside board, it was a clean copy in fine condition. All for $9.98!
I grabbed it, did some more scouting, and ended up with a nice little collection including a signed McGarrity, a signed Koontz, a nice Updike, and a signed Morrell. It was all exciting stuff for a book scout and a very productive evening. I am around the corner from starting my own online bookstore called www.rareandnew.com.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Cliches and Expressions
Driving to another city last night and needing to make a stop, we looked for the best place that would be quick but provide for some necessities. After stopping the truck and getting out and because we are in the coldest part of Winter, I said, "Brrr, it's colder than a banker's heart out here," and proceeded to hurry in the store. We bought a couple of things, got back in the truck and headed out.
Approximately 30 minutes later, from the back seat I hear Joel, our autistic 20 year old son, say "Dad, why do you say colder than a banker's heart? Why don't you say colder than a polar bear's heart or a teacher's heart or a worker's heart or anything else. Why do you say banker?"
Joel's disability causes a lack of understanding of subtleties, expressions, and cliches, particular those kinds of phrases that are metaphorical or analogous. This problem is connected to the lack of creativity that is inherent with forms of autism, a missing element that allows for a depth of thinking and perception of the environment. Unfortunately, creativity can also be the element that leads to deception, lying, stealing, and manipulation--all traits that do not exist in Joel.
An expression such as "cold as a banker's heart" not only compares weather conditions to a person, it also compares the situation to a particular item, in this case a heart. In addition, it requires a depth of concept of the heart that goes beyond the physical thing and into an emotional analysis. So a person who hears this phrase processes it in several ways: 1) It is cold outside, 2) A banker is a person who works in a bank, 3) A heart keeps the blood flowing in the body, 4) A heart is also used as a reference tool for love and compassion in a person, and 5) A cold heart is not literally possible without death, 6) In this case, the heart is an emotion, 7)The emotion must be a lack of compassion. After putting these things together, the typical person might smile (or if he is a banker, might be irritated!), might disagree, might laugh uproariously (doubtful) or simply focus attention on the cold weather rather than considering the insult to the poor, innocent (is that possible?) banker!
Back to Joel. When he heard this phrase, he was not able to process through the phrase and conclude that it is both cold and a banker is without compassion. In fact, the phrase makes no literal sense whatsoever. No person living can have a cold heart. A banker is a living person. He does not have a cold heart, therefore the phrase is not a truth.
But the phrase also has another problem for Joel. It assumes that people are aware of the bias against banking officers who call in debt and are without the compassion of forgiveness. Yet for Joel there are two problems, 1)he does not have an understanding of the role of a banker, 2) he does not understand insults nor negative actions of people. Joel believes in the good in everyone and has never met anyone he doesn't like. In fact, Joel cannot imagine a person doing something bad to another person. Everyone is good so how can a banker have a cold heart? On many levels, it is a phrase that cannot be comprehended by Joel.
Joel serves as a reminder to me to avoid several things in conversation with him. Analogies, metaphors, insults, and poor humor! The easiest level for quick understanding is literal, direct, concrete, and mostly positive. This is a pattern that works best in conversation with most autistic children.
The next morning when we ventured outside, I looked at Joel and said, "brrr...it sure is cold." He said with a grin, "It's colder than an Eskimo." I'm guessing he thought of that and was anxious to use it. Truth is that his metaphor made sense whereas mine really did not!
Approximately 30 minutes later, from the back seat I hear Joel, our autistic 20 year old son, say "Dad, why do you say colder than a banker's heart? Why don't you say colder than a polar bear's heart or a teacher's heart or a worker's heart or anything else. Why do you say banker?"
Joel's disability causes a lack of understanding of subtleties, expressions, and cliches, particular those kinds of phrases that are metaphorical or analogous. This problem is connected to the lack of creativity that is inherent with forms of autism, a missing element that allows for a depth of thinking and perception of the environment. Unfortunately, creativity can also be the element that leads to deception, lying, stealing, and manipulation--all traits that do not exist in Joel.
An expression such as "cold as a banker's heart" not only compares weather conditions to a person, it also compares the situation to a particular item, in this case a heart. In addition, it requires a depth of concept of the heart that goes beyond the physical thing and into an emotional analysis. So a person who hears this phrase processes it in several ways: 1) It is cold outside, 2) A banker is a person who works in a bank, 3) A heart keeps the blood flowing in the body, 4) A heart is also used as a reference tool for love and compassion in a person, and 5) A cold heart is not literally possible without death, 6) In this case, the heart is an emotion, 7)The emotion must be a lack of compassion. After putting these things together, the typical person might smile (or if he is a banker, might be irritated!), might disagree, might laugh uproariously (doubtful) or simply focus attention on the cold weather rather than considering the insult to the poor, innocent (is that possible?) banker!
Back to Joel. When he heard this phrase, he was not able to process through the phrase and conclude that it is both cold and a banker is without compassion. In fact, the phrase makes no literal sense whatsoever. No person living can have a cold heart. A banker is a living person. He does not have a cold heart, therefore the phrase is not a truth.
But the phrase also has another problem for Joel. It assumes that people are aware of the bias against banking officers who call in debt and are without the compassion of forgiveness. Yet for Joel there are two problems, 1)he does not have an understanding of the role of a banker, 2) he does not understand insults nor negative actions of people. Joel believes in the good in everyone and has never met anyone he doesn't like. In fact, Joel cannot imagine a person doing something bad to another person. Everyone is good so how can a banker have a cold heart? On many levels, it is a phrase that cannot be comprehended by Joel.
Joel serves as a reminder to me to avoid several things in conversation with him. Analogies, metaphors, insults, and poor humor! The easiest level for quick understanding is literal, direct, concrete, and mostly positive. This is a pattern that works best in conversation with most autistic children.
The next morning when we ventured outside, I looked at Joel and said, "brrr...it sure is cold." He said with a grin, "It's colder than an Eskimo." I'm guessing he thought of that and was anxious to use it. Truth is that his metaphor made sense whereas mine really did not!
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Archer City--Booked Up
Heading out with some friends to Archer City, we made the 2 1/2 hour drive with great anticipation. It was book day! I set aside days to do some book shopping. Sometimes I shop for books to read, sometimes for books to sell, sometimes for books to do research (although libraries are usually just as well for this), and sometimes just out of tremendous curiosity, and what better place to satisfy my hunger for books than Archer City, Texas, the mecca of used book stores with more than 500,000 books for perusing.
And peruse I did. Starting at Booked Up One--there are four large stores around the town square, each labeled a number--I immediately found the book I wanted to buy last time, Georgia Slave Songs. I spent some time in the folk song section marveling at the amazing collection of folk song books, then walked around the aisles to study on the mystery section. Knowing Mr. McMurtry, the owner of the stores, does not have great affection for mysteries and probably had not added to the collection, I walked over to the general area where I found a nice Graham Greene book. I am a fairly diligent collector of Graham Greene, an author I consider one of the finest of the twentieth century.
Knowing I was spending too much time in number one, I wandered across the street for a quick look at Booked Up Two. Unfortunately my quick look lasted quite awhile as I studied the Anthony Burgess books, the Graham Greene's, Roth, Vidal, and then finally the rare book room. In that room, I wrestled with the compilation of short stories edited by John Updike, searched for the signed Carl Sandburg that was there last time, glanced at the Beloved by Toni Morrison, and then spent some time in the poetry section.
Passing by Booked Up Three, a nice store with older books and foreign copies, I headed over to Booked Up Four. As I headed that way, I smiled thinking about the set for The Last Picture Show which is nearby, the writers conference held each year at motel down the street, and thought briefly about a small town with one of the largest bookstores in the world in the middle of the town square. How ironic and joyful is the world!
Walking into Booked Up Four, where books on the arts, reference materials, biographies, sports, and some fiction reside, I found the book by George Plimpton I sought, glanced at several other books, and spied a nice book by Theodore Dreiser. Amazed at the number of Philip Roth books not to mention Gore Vidal, I decided to grab a bite to eat. Following a delicious hamburger at a cafe located about 25 yards from Booked Up four, I wandered across the street and down to return to number one.
As I walked, I found myself laughing at the conversation I had just had with the waitress. She was very nice, and as I was paying for the meal I asked her if she had ever visited the bookstores on the square. She said no, but then proceeded to tell me that she did read a book about a month ago and enjoyed it! For me, a book lover willing to drive several hours to visit Archer City, it is astounding that a local would never darken the door of the bookstores in their own backyard.
A prophet is without honor in his own country and a bookstore is without meaning in its own little town! Returning to Booked Up One, I drooled over a first edition Booked to Die, grabbed a Reveille by David Morrell and checked out. The ladies were just as sweet as always and I hated leaving the 500,000 plus books as always. It was a great day. For some it is the movies, others clothes, perhaps for some it is a theme park with its wondrous sights and sounds, or maybe a sports event, or a camping trip or any number of great enjoyable events. I certainly like all those things and more, but one of my favorite days is book day when I get to visit Archer City!
And peruse I did. Starting at Booked Up One--there are four large stores around the town square, each labeled a number--I immediately found the book I wanted to buy last time, Georgia Slave Songs. I spent some time in the folk song section marveling at the amazing collection of folk song books, then walked around the aisles to study on the mystery section. Knowing Mr. McMurtry, the owner of the stores, does not have great affection for mysteries and probably had not added to the collection, I walked over to the general area where I found a nice Graham Greene book. I am a fairly diligent collector of Graham Greene, an author I consider one of the finest of the twentieth century.
Knowing I was spending too much time in number one, I wandered across the street for a quick look at Booked Up Two. Unfortunately my quick look lasted quite awhile as I studied the Anthony Burgess books, the Graham Greene's, Roth, Vidal, and then finally the rare book room. In that room, I wrestled with the compilation of short stories edited by John Updike, searched for the signed Carl Sandburg that was there last time, glanced at the Beloved by Toni Morrison, and then spent some time in the poetry section.
Passing by Booked Up Three, a nice store with older books and foreign copies, I headed over to Booked Up Four. As I headed that way, I smiled thinking about the set for The Last Picture Show which is nearby, the writers conference held each year at motel down the street, and thought briefly about a small town with one of the largest bookstores in the world in the middle of the town square. How ironic and joyful is the world!
Walking into Booked Up Four, where books on the arts, reference materials, biographies, sports, and some fiction reside, I found the book by George Plimpton I sought, glanced at several other books, and spied a nice book by Theodore Dreiser. Amazed at the number of Philip Roth books not to mention Gore Vidal, I decided to grab a bite to eat. Following a delicious hamburger at a cafe located about 25 yards from Booked Up four, I wandered across the street and down to return to number one.
As I walked, I found myself laughing at the conversation I had just had with the waitress. She was very nice, and as I was paying for the meal I asked her if she had ever visited the bookstores on the square. She said no, but then proceeded to tell me that she did read a book about a month ago and enjoyed it! For me, a book lover willing to drive several hours to visit Archer City, it is astounding that a local would never darken the door of the bookstores in their own backyard.
A prophet is without honor in his own country and a bookstore is without meaning in its own little town! Returning to Booked Up One, I drooled over a first edition Booked to Die, grabbed a Reveille by David Morrell and checked out. The ladies were just as sweet as always and I hated leaving the 500,000 plus books as always. It was a great day. For some it is the movies, others clothes, perhaps for some it is a theme park with its wondrous sights and sounds, or maybe a sports event, or a camping trip or any number of great enjoyable events. I certainly like all those things and more, but one of my favorite days is book day when I get to visit Archer City!
Monday, January 04, 2010
Communication--ongoing challenges
His voice is too soft he has trouble looking a people in the eyes, and it is difficult to have meaningful or creative conversation. He is able to answer questions, respond using short answers, nod, smile, and can use his body to reflect the nature of the conversation. Yet when responses begin to require creativity or use picturesque language or take a deeper approach, he tends to shut the mental door and seeks to escape the situation. The person we are discussing is Joel Tucker, our 20 year old autistic son.
The problems of communication are compounded by Joel's tendency to believe that others are thinking the same thoughts he is thinking. When asked what he thinks other people are thinking, he responds with his own thoughts rather than working to perceiving what others might be thinking. Connected to this problem is his inability to understand facial expressions and respond according to what he sees. Not recognizing bad moods or anger or fear in other people, he assumes everyone is happy and thinking what he thinks. This then causes verbal communication to be redundant and unnecessary.
The talking soft is a little harder to explain since he seems to enjoy playing the piano and the organ at extreme volumes. Somehow, though, it is related to expressing what is inside him. Since it is basically unnecessary due to other people thinking what he thinks, it is not important to speak loud enough for others to hear. Unfortunately, this means that those who are hearing impaired or simply a little hard of hearing assume that Joel simply does not speak. They cannot hear him, he doesn't move his mouth very much, so he does not communicate. Since the expectation is for him not to speak, and human beings generally fulfill the level of expectations set forth, Joel responds by talking less.
Yet communication can take many forms including cell phones and body language, both of which he practices to great success. He enjoys texting on his phone and time has shown us how to read his body language. As is usual with Joel, we do not have the answers to his communication challenges, but we do have the tenacity to keep trying, to discover, to help, to suggest, and mostly to love. Somehow, someway he gets the point!
The problems of communication are compounded by Joel's tendency to believe that others are thinking the same thoughts he is thinking. When asked what he thinks other people are thinking, he responds with his own thoughts rather than working to perceiving what others might be thinking. Connected to this problem is his inability to understand facial expressions and respond according to what he sees. Not recognizing bad moods or anger or fear in other people, he assumes everyone is happy and thinking what he thinks. This then causes verbal communication to be redundant and unnecessary.
The talking soft is a little harder to explain since he seems to enjoy playing the piano and the organ at extreme volumes. Somehow, though, it is related to expressing what is inside him. Since it is basically unnecessary due to other people thinking what he thinks, it is not important to speak loud enough for others to hear. Unfortunately, this means that those who are hearing impaired or simply a little hard of hearing assume that Joel simply does not speak. They cannot hear him, he doesn't move his mouth very much, so he does not communicate. Since the expectation is for him not to speak, and human beings generally fulfill the level of expectations set forth, Joel responds by talking less.
Yet communication can take many forms including cell phones and body language, both of which he practices to great success. He enjoys texting on his phone and time has shown us how to read his body language. As is usual with Joel, we do not have the answers to his communication challenges, but we do have the tenacity to keep trying, to discover, to help, to suggest, and mostly to love. Somehow, someway he gets the point!
Finding his niche
Parents everywhere wonder what their children will become or what their abilities are or where their interests lie. These worries are more paramount for parents of autistic children. The famous song Que Sera Sera that Doris Day sings so beautifully may be warm and charming to most parents but unfortunately parents of autistic children do not have the luxury of subscribing to its tenants.
We knew Joel had certain gifts at a young age but we could not decide if those gifts were merely interests or special abilities. Nevertheless it was apparent that he had a thorough understanding and keen interest in the alphabet. Looking back, it should have been obvious that his abilities to sort in alphabetical order and memorize words and systems accordingly were his destiny for his career.
It began with saying the alphabet forward and backward followed by the ability to number the alphabet and identify the letter from its ordered number. This led to an exceptional ability to spell words and identify words misspelled. In school Joel did not win spelling contests partly due to his hesitancy to vocalize the correct spelling of the word and partly due to his not being able to operate within time constraints. That stated, his spelling prowess was and is simply an extension of his knowledge of the alphabet and how words are put together.
It was then logical that Joel would eventually end up in a library sorting books which is what he does every afternoon. While we have little first hand knowledge of his competency, neither have we heard any complaints. According to Joel, he has never made a mistake and puts away between 40 and 100 books each day. He further states that he knows every book in the library and can find any book that is requested. This makes his gifts extraordinary in some ways and invaluable to a library. It oddly renders a card catalog, particularly the title section, virtually ineffective as a distinguishing system for finding a book.
And yet, in spite of these unusual abilities, Joel does not seem to apply joyful emotion to his experience nor his competency. While most people would express pride at their ability to sort books and memorize a library, Joel approaches this skill with the same objectivity of most events. His emotion is stoic, neither joyful nor sad, neither prideful nor humble, simply factual without expressive intent. In spite of this seeming indifference, he is excellent at his job and for that we are grateful. We are fortunate to have found a skill for Joel that is both useful and unusual.
We knew Joel had certain gifts at a young age but we could not decide if those gifts were merely interests or special abilities. Nevertheless it was apparent that he had a thorough understanding and keen interest in the alphabet. Looking back, it should have been obvious that his abilities to sort in alphabetical order and memorize words and systems accordingly were his destiny for his career.
It began with saying the alphabet forward and backward followed by the ability to number the alphabet and identify the letter from its ordered number. This led to an exceptional ability to spell words and identify words misspelled. In school Joel did not win spelling contests partly due to his hesitancy to vocalize the correct spelling of the word and partly due to his not being able to operate within time constraints. That stated, his spelling prowess was and is simply an extension of his knowledge of the alphabet and how words are put together.
It was then logical that Joel would eventually end up in a library sorting books which is what he does every afternoon. While we have little first hand knowledge of his competency, neither have we heard any complaints. According to Joel, he has never made a mistake and puts away between 40 and 100 books each day. He further states that he knows every book in the library and can find any book that is requested. This makes his gifts extraordinary in some ways and invaluable to a library. It oddly renders a card catalog, particularly the title section, virtually ineffective as a distinguishing system for finding a book.
And yet, in spite of these unusual abilities, Joel does not seem to apply joyful emotion to his experience nor his competency. While most people would express pride at their ability to sort books and memorize a library, Joel approaches this skill with the same objectivity of most events. His emotion is stoic, neither joyful nor sad, neither prideful nor humble, simply factual without expressive intent. In spite of this seeming indifference, he is excellent at his job and for that we are grateful. We are fortunate to have found a skill for Joel that is both useful and unusual.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Clothes
Joel has always been caught up in clothes and particularly the value of matching. He prefers his clothes match and that his ensemble presentation be of high quality. This is in contrast to his personal appearance of his face, hair, and teeth. We do not understand the disparity in the concepts but there is no doubt that he has high standards with regard to clothing and low standards with regard to his personal hygiene and appearance.
Sometimes as much as three days away from Sunday, he will pick out his clothes and place them aside. This could include a shirt, matching tie, pants, and coat with an added sweater during the winter months. Recently he asked me if he could pick out his clothes for Sunday. I said sure but asked him what he was thinking about. He looked at me quizzically and so I altered my question:
Dad: "Joel what are you imagining that you will wear to church?"
Joel (with a perplexed face): "Clothes"
Dad: "What color of clothes?"
Joel: "Matching"
Dad: "Anything specific in mind"
Joel: "Nice clothes"
Dad: "What kind of nice clothes?"
Joel: "Church clothes"
Joel's lack of imagination is extended to virtually all activities in life, resulting in a lack of conceptual thinking and establishment of certain expectations. His approach to determining the best clothes or what to eat is broad and conceived more from experience than from specific imagined details. Rather than visually himself in particular clothes, looking a certain way, and then finding clothes to match the visualization, he instead has a general idea in his mind of what to expect, then seeks the object to meet those broad expectations.
His lack of imagination is directly related to his limited creativity. Although he is primarily a visual learning, visualization in the mind is a creative project rooted in and formed by the imagination. This is true for everyone. Using creativity we design a picture in our mind which then becomes our imagination, which leads to a concrete picture forming a concept of the item or event. If creativity is limited so goes the imagination. If the imagination is limited so goes the concept. Without a concept, we are dependent on the concrete items for the design.
Such is Joel. He has the broad sense of what he needs in his mind, but requires the use of the other senses to determine the final product. When I asked him what clothes he wanted to wear, his concept was generally correct but without specifics. He had to see the clothes before deciding what exactly to wear. His concept is formed after experiencing the concrete, not before. Because Joel's decision making abilities are based on what he knows, sees, and touches, it becomes necessary for us to remember this as we help him adjust to life.
Sometimes as much as three days away from Sunday, he will pick out his clothes and place them aside. This could include a shirt, matching tie, pants, and coat with an added sweater during the winter months. Recently he asked me if he could pick out his clothes for Sunday. I said sure but asked him what he was thinking about. He looked at me quizzically and so I altered my question:
Dad: "Joel what are you imagining that you will wear to church?"
Joel (with a perplexed face): "Clothes"
Dad: "What color of clothes?"
Joel: "Matching"
Dad: "Anything specific in mind"
Joel: "Nice clothes"
Dad: "What kind of nice clothes?"
Joel: "Church clothes"
Joel's lack of imagination is extended to virtually all activities in life, resulting in a lack of conceptual thinking and establishment of certain expectations. His approach to determining the best clothes or what to eat is broad and conceived more from experience than from specific imagined details. Rather than visually himself in particular clothes, looking a certain way, and then finding clothes to match the visualization, he instead has a general idea in his mind of what to expect, then seeks the object to meet those broad expectations.
His lack of imagination is directly related to his limited creativity. Although he is primarily a visual learning, visualization in the mind is a creative project rooted in and formed by the imagination. This is true for everyone. Using creativity we design a picture in our mind which then becomes our imagination, which leads to a concrete picture forming a concept of the item or event. If creativity is limited so goes the imagination. If the imagination is limited so goes the concept. Without a concept, we are dependent on the concrete items for the design.
Such is Joel. He has the broad sense of what he needs in his mind, but requires the use of the other senses to determine the final product. When I asked him what clothes he wanted to wear, his concept was generally correct but without specifics. He had to see the clothes before deciding what exactly to wear. His concept is formed after experiencing the concrete, not before. Because Joel's decision making abilities are based on what he knows, sees, and touches, it becomes necessary for us to remember this as we help him adjust to life.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
The Song in the Mind
For me it happens nearly every day. For others it may just be once a week or every now and then. Nearly everyone I have known or met, inevitably gets a song on his mind that won't seem to leave. In fact there are techniques used for getting songs off the mind including singing Jingle Bells or watching a sports show or going to sleep. For many people, however, the song returns to haunt our thoughts and responses. Although usually pleasant, occasionally a song stays in our head that we may not even enjoy. Most songs in the mind are rather simplistic or "catchy" or memorable and may include folk songs, broadway, Christian, rock, country, or even classical themes. While the song on the mind may be maddening, in many ways the song is also cathartic and keeps our emotions in check. The power of music as an abstract art form is still to be completely understood.
Driving down the road with Joel in the passenger seat, I found myself singing the Lusty Month of May from Camelot. The melody is catchy and the pure joy of the song is infectious, causing an expressive response of happiness. I was humming, tapping, singing, and shaking when Joel said, "Dad, I have never had a song on my mind."
This quieted me considerably as I pondered his statement. Joel's autism causes a significant lack of creative ability. Jacob and Jordan both experienced imaginary friends as small children and Jordan especially had an imaginary world of which we found to be very entertaining at times. Yet Joel never experienced an imaginary friend thereby implying that he either does not express his imagination or he does not have one.
For music to be in the mind, imagination is required in some form or another. Without an imagination, the abstract art of music cannot lodge inside the mind. Joel's autism prevents the creative spark generated by the imagination resulting in a marked lack of conceptual thinking, leading to the missing song from his mind. This does not mean that Joel is deprived of the beauty and joy of music but it does mean that he is perhaps missing both the burden and the liberation of emotions that music can provide.
Ironically we learn something about ourselves from autism. We are dependent upon our imagination and we benefit from what is inside our brains, conceptually and creatively. Yet it is not an essential part of our lives. In the way that a blind person compensates for his blindness, autistics compensate for the missing creativity. And in the way a blind person does not necessarily miss what he has never had (maybe he doesn't miss but he certainly does wonder), and therefore leads the fulfilled life he knows, so also does an autistic lead the life he knows--a life without imagination (at least from our perspective).
While it may sound like a rationalization to a point, I contend that in some ways, Joel's never having a song in his mind is actually liberating and strangely prevents him from the extremes of emotion or at least the range of emotions we normally experience. There is no song but that does not mean there is no joy. His joy is expressed in other ways and his emotions are dealt with apart from what is inside his head. This makes for an unusual existence but one worth trying to understand.
Driving down the road with Joel in the passenger seat, I found myself singing the Lusty Month of May from Camelot. The melody is catchy and the pure joy of the song is infectious, causing an expressive response of happiness. I was humming, tapping, singing, and shaking when Joel said, "Dad, I have never had a song on my mind."
This quieted me considerably as I pondered his statement. Joel's autism causes a significant lack of creative ability. Jacob and Jordan both experienced imaginary friends as small children and Jordan especially had an imaginary world of which we found to be very entertaining at times. Yet Joel never experienced an imaginary friend thereby implying that he either does not express his imagination or he does not have one.
For music to be in the mind, imagination is required in some form or another. Without an imagination, the abstract art of music cannot lodge inside the mind. Joel's autism prevents the creative spark generated by the imagination resulting in a marked lack of conceptual thinking, leading to the missing song from his mind. This does not mean that Joel is deprived of the beauty and joy of music but it does mean that he is perhaps missing both the burden and the liberation of emotions that music can provide.
Ironically we learn something about ourselves from autism. We are dependent upon our imagination and we benefit from what is inside our brains, conceptually and creatively. Yet it is not an essential part of our lives. In the way that a blind person compensates for his blindness, autistics compensate for the missing creativity. And in the way a blind person does not necessarily miss what he has never had (maybe he doesn't miss but he certainly does wonder), and therefore leads the fulfilled life he knows, so also does an autistic lead the life he knows--a life without imagination (at least from our perspective).
While it may sound like a rationalization to a point, I contend that in some ways, Joel's never having a song in his mind is actually liberating and strangely prevents him from the extremes of emotion or at least the range of emotions we normally experience. There is no song but that does not mean there is no joy. His joy is expressed in other ways and his emotions are dealt with apart from what is inside his head. This makes for an unusual existence but one worth trying to understand.
Folk Songs
I am saddened by the lack of folk song singing in our modern culture. We are just not interested in the old songs from our country's roots, the beginnings, the trials, the joys, the sorrows, and the events. Is it due to the immense growth in technology, the advances of the last 20 years? Is it due to the actual material that is dated, old, meaningless? Is it that we just don't sing very much anymore?
I am just not sure of the cause but am rather bored with the philosophical pontificating. Rather than trying to find an answer for the dearth in folk song singing, I think I will simply talk about my love of folk songs, a love that has waxed and waned since childhood, and a love that jumps in full force at different times and in different ways, a love that never goes away, and a love that remains an integral part of my musical life. But frankly, I do not understand why. It really makes little sense considering that one of my central theses for judgment in music is harmony. Harmonic interest, creativity, and expression tends to separate the great from the good, and the good from the poor. It separates the rock band Chicago from the rock band The Who. It separates Stevie Wonder from Ray Charles, and it separates Mozart from Salieri. Harmonic interest is the spark that makes music happen and is the element that keeps people smiling and charmed. It is the indefinable yet compelling sound that makes music fascinating.
Back to folk songs. Where is the harmonic interest? It really does not exist. Many folk songs are melody only, harmonized at the most by three repeating chords. Over and over in folk music we hear the tonic chord, the four chord, and the five chord. While most American folk songs are diatonic, we find throughout the world an emphasis on various modes. Modes do lend themselves to interesting harmony, but again even in those instances, the harmony is somewhat predictable. Harmonic shifting, one of my favorite elements in music, is pretty much non existent in folk music. Once the song begins, it is the same old repetition.
Yet in spite of this "weakness" if it is such, folk songs are a major influence on culture, on music, and on life. I believe it is the honest expression of society, of challenges, of loss and of gain, of folly and glory, and of fear, courage, and concern. Folk songs are music from real people, people with families, people who love music and wish to express themselves with music. Folk songs are joyful, sad, mournful, funny, frightening, intense, warm, and filled with passion. Folk songs are music from the heart and soul of the individual and from the heartbeat of the collective whole of the world. In many ways, folk songs say it all.
Folk songs are performed at funerals, weddings, concerts, reunions, in kitchens, in living rooms, and outdoors at parties. Folk songs are natural and in their purest state need no instruments, no complexity, no amplification or frequencies or compression. There are songs about sailing, climbing, throwing, hunting, hugging, loving, worshiping, working, and dying. There are songs about personalities, psychos, preachers, children, the elderly, the confused, and the misinformed. There are songs about every country, every culture, and virtually every experience. One can find folk songs in church, in prisons, on the mountains, and on the lakes. They are neverending and express the inexpressible. They are the lifeblood of our world.
Okay, maybe all that was overstated, particularly in today's complicated technological world. Perhaps my love of folk songs simply hearkens back to a simpler time, a time of hearing my dad sing to us while strumming his guitar. Whatever the reason, I love the songs. If you want a treat, buy the 5 cd set of Pete Seeger singing American folk songs. You won't be disappointed.
I am just not sure of the cause but am rather bored with the philosophical pontificating. Rather than trying to find an answer for the dearth in folk song singing, I think I will simply talk about my love of folk songs, a love that has waxed and waned since childhood, and a love that jumps in full force at different times and in different ways, a love that never goes away, and a love that remains an integral part of my musical life. But frankly, I do not understand why. It really makes little sense considering that one of my central theses for judgment in music is harmony. Harmonic interest, creativity, and expression tends to separate the great from the good, and the good from the poor. It separates the rock band Chicago from the rock band The Who. It separates Stevie Wonder from Ray Charles, and it separates Mozart from Salieri. Harmonic interest is the spark that makes music happen and is the element that keeps people smiling and charmed. It is the indefinable yet compelling sound that makes music fascinating.
Back to folk songs. Where is the harmonic interest? It really does not exist. Many folk songs are melody only, harmonized at the most by three repeating chords. Over and over in folk music we hear the tonic chord, the four chord, and the five chord. While most American folk songs are diatonic, we find throughout the world an emphasis on various modes. Modes do lend themselves to interesting harmony, but again even in those instances, the harmony is somewhat predictable. Harmonic shifting, one of my favorite elements in music, is pretty much non existent in folk music. Once the song begins, it is the same old repetition.
Yet in spite of this "weakness" if it is such, folk songs are a major influence on culture, on music, and on life. I believe it is the honest expression of society, of challenges, of loss and of gain, of folly and glory, and of fear, courage, and concern. Folk songs are music from real people, people with families, people who love music and wish to express themselves with music. Folk songs are joyful, sad, mournful, funny, frightening, intense, warm, and filled with passion. Folk songs are music from the heart and soul of the individual and from the heartbeat of the collective whole of the world. In many ways, folk songs say it all.
Folk songs are performed at funerals, weddings, concerts, reunions, in kitchens, in living rooms, and outdoors at parties. Folk songs are natural and in their purest state need no instruments, no complexity, no amplification or frequencies or compression. There are songs about sailing, climbing, throwing, hunting, hugging, loving, worshiping, working, and dying. There are songs about personalities, psychos, preachers, children, the elderly, the confused, and the misinformed. There are songs about every country, every culture, and virtually every experience. One can find folk songs in church, in prisons, on the mountains, and on the lakes. They are neverending and express the inexpressible. They are the lifeblood of our world.
Okay, maybe all that was overstated, particularly in today's complicated technological world. Perhaps my love of folk songs simply hearkens back to a simpler time, a time of hearing my dad sing to us while strumming his guitar. Whatever the reason, I love the songs. If you want a treat, buy the 5 cd set of Pete Seeger singing American folk songs. You won't be disappointed.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Mystery of Time
The passing of time as we understand it, is an arbitrary and artificially applied concept, humanly divined and codified for selfish purposes. Our lives are ordered by time and we are dependent upon the system we have established for ourselves, a system that is both frustrating and liberating. Nevertheless, regardless of the historical development of how time moves, with its expression of the rotation of the earth, the sun, the changing seasons, the pull of gravity, and complexity of relativity of space and matter, we are obligated to operate within the established code of time, which may be naturally driven or socially constrained by culture.
Do we eat three meals a day, morning, noon, and evening because our bodies tell us to do so? Or have we fallen into this concept by virtue of the design of our lives, thus forcing our bodies into a fallacy of the need for three meals equally spaced? Do we sleep at night because it is dark or because of the physical requirement for rest or perhaps a combination of both? Our watches and clocks remind us of the time which in turn sends a message on upcoming event or obligation. Schools, businesses, institutions, travel, energy, all depend on our system of time and our understanding of its movement and passage.
Yet for Joel, autistic since birth, time has no meaning. He does not understand nor embrace in any sense, the passing of time. For him time stands still and he almost resents having to conform to the system that has been codified and efficaciously applied. He recognizes the actions of a clock and is frequently reminded of seconds, minutes, and hours, but those odd increments are but words to be used when confounded by forthcoming events. The concept of time spent on an activity has no meaning and the word hurry is not a part of his vocabulary.
This makes Joel's existence rather random yet also ironically regimented. Because the passing of time is essentially a mystery, he must apply rigor, ritual, and routine to everything that he does. The more routine, the more successful he will become. Yet surrounding that routine and enveloping the action is the overriding lack of concern about length or expectations. This makes for a tension filled universe for everyone else connected to Joel, but not for him. His contentment with time playing little to no role in his life is wildly frustrating for others but wildly comforting for him.
For the autistic child, his inner peace is found in personal expression of his interests, focusing on those activities for which he is successful regardless of their niche in the world. I knew one autistic child who constantly drew maps of the world. Sometimes the maps were detailed and other times rather general. The maps served no real purpose since better maps are attainable at any bookstore; yet he continued to draw maps as a way to fulfill his own peculiar brand of self-expression.
Joel finds satisfaction playing the piano and the organ as well as listening to classical music or watching certain television shows. While none of these activities serve a great market need in the world, and riches are most likely not going to occur from his interests, nevertheless he does express his joy through these events. An autistic child is not seeking to find his place in the world, rather he has already found it and is comfortable in that residence. For Joel, the passing of time is some kind of mysterious force that plays little to no role in his theater, a theater that consists of his own designs for expression.
Yet, truthfully, the world cannot operate singularly and one-dimensioned. Monody is charming and refreshing but cannot compete with the beauties and complexities of polyphony. Joel's rejection of time is one of those endearing qualities that makes him who he is but also prevents him from collective congruency in social interaction. We are a time mandated culture and operating outside of the time boundary is to be anathema in today's world.
This makes for a pleasant tension as we continually teach Joel the meaning of time which he artfully rejects to keep it a mystery!
Do we eat three meals a day, morning, noon, and evening because our bodies tell us to do so? Or have we fallen into this concept by virtue of the design of our lives, thus forcing our bodies into a fallacy of the need for three meals equally spaced? Do we sleep at night because it is dark or because of the physical requirement for rest or perhaps a combination of both? Our watches and clocks remind us of the time which in turn sends a message on upcoming event or obligation. Schools, businesses, institutions, travel, energy, all depend on our system of time and our understanding of its movement and passage.
Yet for Joel, autistic since birth, time has no meaning. He does not understand nor embrace in any sense, the passing of time. For him time stands still and he almost resents having to conform to the system that has been codified and efficaciously applied. He recognizes the actions of a clock and is frequently reminded of seconds, minutes, and hours, but those odd increments are but words to be used when confounded by forthcoming events. The concept of time spent on an activity has no meaning and the word hurry is not a part of his vocabulary.
This makes Joel's existence rather random yet also ironically regimented. Because the passing of time is essentially a mystery, he must apply rigor, ritual, and routine to everything that he does. The more routine, the more successful he will become. Yet surrounding that routine and enveloping the action is the overriding lack of concern about length or expectations. This makes for a tension filled universe for everyone else connected to Joel, but not for him. His contentment with time playing little to no role in his life is wildly frustrating for others but wildly comforting for him.
For the autistic child, his inner peace is found in personal expression of his interests, focusing on those activities for which he is successful regardless of their niche in the world. I knew one autistic child who constantly drew maps of the world. Sometimes the maps were detailed and other times rather general. The maps served no real purpose since better maps are attainable at any bookstore; yet he continued to draw maps as a way to fulfill his own peculiar brand of self-expression.
Joel finds satisfaction playing the piano and the organ as well as listening to classical music or watching certain television shows. While none of these activities serve a great market need in the world, and riches are most likely not going to occur from his interests, nevertheless he does express his joy through these events. An autistic child is not seeking to find his place in the world, rather he has already found it and is comfortable in that residence. For Joel, the passing of time is some kind of mysterious force that plays little to no role in his theater, a theater that consists of his own designs for expression.
Yet, truthfully, the world cannot operate singularly and one-dimensioned. Monody is charming and refreshing but cannot compete with the beauties and complexities of polyphony. Joel's rejection of time is one of those endearing qualities that makes him who he is but also prevents him from collective congruency in social interaction. We are a time mandated culture and operating outside of the time boundary is to be anathema in today's world.
This makes for a pleasant tension as we continually teach Joel the meaning of time which he artfully rejects to keep it a mystery!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Some of the problems
As I continue to chronicle the saga of Joel, our autistic 20 year old son, it occurs to me that I often find the good and tend to leave out the challenges, which in many ways have existed since day one. This is not to say that the challenges are greater than the joys nor to say that we have not learned from the challenges, nor does it abdicate our responsible but loving expectations for him, nor does this mean that Joel is not a remarkable force in our lives and those who cross his path, but it would not be fair to present our son in a vacuum, to demonstrate the hills without showing the valleys, to share the light without also knowing the dark. So forgive me as I write realistically about Joel.
Joel's learning disability, which we do not always understand, is actually easy to handle. We just accept that there are some things we will not comprehend and some situations that he will not put together. Since all of us have different levels of intelligence and we do tend to learn in different ways, and Joel definitely has trouble reading and comprehending and recalling what he has learned, it should not be surprising that he prefers the concrete over the abstract and the obvious over the hidden. As a nearly consummate joke teller and a committed educator, I often deliver subtle jokes to see if he will understand, with the hope that the effort to associate the punchline with the story will aid in conceptual thinking. While he usually laughs (which is why he is often the listener of choice for my jokes), he does not always understand and gives me a perplexed but entertaining look!
This all makes for an existence and a training that cannot include subtleties of expression, expectations, innuendo, or natural understanding. All instructions must be clear, obvious, and intentional. Many times instructions require explanations for their existence and clarity of purpose. Just to say "please feed the cats" may also need a "...because they are hungry."
This may be why personal hygiene remains a mystery to Joel. He does not enjoy taking a shower, brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant, or shaving. None of these normal events is normal to Joel. They do not make sense to him and most require an understanding of long-term benefits. Yes we brush our teeth because they need it, but to Joel the act of brushing is just a burden. Shaving helps men look clean, fresh, and ready for the day, but for Joel it has no meaning, takes his time, and even hurts a little (so he says).
To this end, we have tried a smorgasbord of methods to get him to be independent and committed to personal hygiene. As is typical for Joel, every method is successful to a point and everything is ultimately unsuccessful. When something works, such as a sign on the door, or a list of required activities, or a stopwatch, we praise him and decide that method is the right one. Yet, eventually it quits working and we find ourselves once again searching for the answers.
As parents who will sacrifice everything for our children, we do not stop trying to help Joel, and we remain committed to the concept of teaching Joel independence in as much as possible. We do find that in general, a routine with written instructions is the best approach to most problems. Connected to this is the constant reminder to Joel to be aware of himself with the sensitivity to how others see him. This is a difficult concept for a concrete thinker, one who sees the obvious and does not understand the subtle.
Yet it is all rather dichotomous due to the irony of Joel's personal presentation. On any given day, he may forget to wear deodorant, brush his teeth, shave, or even comb his hair, yet that same day he might wear a nice suit with a tie and polished shoes. He is complimented often on his general appearance, thereby making the lesser obvious problems seem negligible in his mind. This may, in fact, contribute to the challenge.
Joel's learning disability, which we do not always understand, is actually easy to handle. We just accept that there are some things we will not comprehend and some situations that he will not put together. Since all of us have different levels of intelligence and we do tend to learn in different ways, and Joel definitely has trouble reading and comprehending and recalling what he has learned, it should not be surprising that he prefers the concrete over the abstract and the obvious over the hidden. As a nearly consummate joke teller and a committed educator, I often deliver subtle jokes to see if he will understand, with the hope that the effort to associate the punchline with the story will aid in conceptual thinking. While he usually laughs (which is why he is often the listener of choice for my jokes), he does not always understand and gives me a perplexed but entertaining look!
This all makes for an existence and a training that cannot include subtleties of expression, expectations, innuendo, or natural understanding. All instructions must be clear, obvious, and intentional. Many times instructions require explanations for their existence and clarity of purpose. Just to say "please feed the cats" may also need a "...because they are hungry."
This may be why personal hygiene remains a mystery to Joel. He does not enjoy taking a shower, brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant, or shaving. None of these normal events is normal to Joel. They do not make sense to him and most require an understanding of long-term benefits. Yes we brush our teeth because they need it, but to Joel the act of brushing is just a burden. Shaving helps men look clean, fresh, and ready for the day, but for Joel it has no meaning, takes his time, and even hurts a little (so he says).
To this end, we have tried a smorgasbord of methods to get him to be independent and committed to personal hygiene. As is typical for Joel, every method is successful to a point and everything is ultimately unsuccessful. When something works, such as a sign on the door, or a list of required activities, or a stopwatch, we praise him and decide that method is the right one. Yet, eventually it quits working and we find ourselves once again searching for the answers.
As parents who will sacrifice everything for our children, we do not stop trying to help Joel, and we remain committed to the concept of teaching Joel independence in as much as possible. We do find that in general, a routine with written instructions is the best approach to most problems. Connected to this is the constant reminder to Joel to be aware of himself with the sensitivity to how others see him. This is a difficult concept for a concrete thinker, one who sees the obvious and does not understand the subtle.
Yet it is all rather dichotomous due to the irony of Joel's personal presentation. On any given day, he may forget to wear deodorant, brush his teeth, shave, or even comb his hair, yet that same day he might wear a nice suit with a tie and polished shoes. He is complimented often on his general appearance, thereby making the lesser obvious problems seem negligible in his mind. This may, in fact, contribute to the challenge.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
More stuff
As I ruminate this Christmas season over what to buy and for whom, I think about my grandmother's house and the belongings within. She and her husband accumulated lots of stuff. Not that they were hoarders by any means, and not that they boasted over their collection of goods, and not that they were excessive at all, and not that they had some deep psychological fear of not having things, yet in spite of their moderation and frugality, they acquired a lot of things. This is not dissimilar to most people. We have lots of stuff these days.
While we tend to complain about the excessive commercialism of Christmas, we don't really do anything about it. We continue to go shopping and buy things for our family and friends. We add to the stuff. Of course if the stuff weren't so readily available, perhaps we wouldn't be tempted to add to our growing collection of more stuff. Not sure though. It is easy to cogitate on the truths of Christmas and to recognize that gifts are merely an expression of our love for each other and a way to say thanks to those who mean so much to us, and to be a manifestation of the wise men who traveled so far to give gifts to the King, but less easy to make a change to our system.
Not that anyone really wants to by the way, but it does seem to me that we are acquiring too many things. Materialism is a disease and one that we seem to like. I cannot claim innocence in this department myself as I look at several hundred books, a new truck, nice clothes, and many odds and ends. On the one hand, it is easy for me to criticize the acquisition of things that will get thrown away at some point, but I participate in my own brand of materialism through books, music, and electronics. It is almost cultural, inherent, natural, and decidedly required for us to seek out more. While this in and of itself adds to the progression of life, to its refinement, its creativity, and yes to some extent its joy, it can also inhibit the deeper purpose of who we are.
At some point, and that point cannot be determined, it would be worthwhile to examine our malignant materialism in terms of pragmatism, aestheticism, comfort, and entertainment. If we pare everything down to one of those four categories, we discover that many things can go away, and those items can be labeled non-essential in the human sense. Subsequently, it may be time for us to simplify our existence in a kind of deliberate moving away from property multi-tasking. Since everything we have is property in some sense, focusing on one item at a time is a move against the ADD that infects all of us.
Meanwhile, it is much easier stated than acted upon, and I suspect that my children will one day have to deal with all the stuff we leave. Maybe some of it has monetary value or sentimental value, but I suspect that much of it, ultimately, will end up at the dumpster and covered with dirt. In fact I would guess there are mountains of junk that are buried, and on top of those mountains, we will once again have green grass! I am reminded that my legacy is not determined by my things but rather by my contributions, my family, my work, my compassion, and my love for others.
While we tend to complain about the excessive commercialism of Christmas, we don't really do anything about it. We continue to go shopping and buy things for our family and friends. We add to the stuff. Of course if the stuff weren't so readily available, perhaps we wouldn't be tempted to add to our growing collection of more stuff. Not sure though. It is easy to cogitate on the truths of Christmas and to recognize that gifts are merely an expression of our love for each other and a way to say thanks to those who mean so much to us, and to be a manifestation of the wise men who traveled so far to give gifts to the King, but less easy to make a change to our system.
Not that anyone really wants to by the way, but it does seem to me that we are acquiring too many things. Materialism is a disease and one that we seem to like. I cannot claim innocence in this department myself as I look at several hundred books, a new truck, nice clothes, and many odds and ends. On the one hand, it is easy for me to criticize the acquisition of things that will get thrown away at some point, but I participate in my own brand of materialism through books, music, and electronics. It is almost cultural, inherent, natural, and decidedly required for us to seek out more. While this in and of itself adds to the progression of life, to its refinement, its creativity, and yes to some extent its joy, it can also inhibit the deeper purpose of who we are.
At some point, and that point cannot be determined, it would be worthwhile to examine our malignant materialism in terms of pragmatism, aestheticism, comfort, and entertainment. If we pare everything down to one of those four categories, we discover that many things can go away, and those items can be labeled non-essential in the human sense. Subsequently, it may be time for us to simplify our existence in a kind of deliberate moving away from property multi-tasking. Since everything we have is property in some sense, focusing on one item at a time is a move against the ADD that infects all of us.
Meanwhile, it is much easier stated than acted upon, and I suspect that my children will one day have to deal with all the stuff we leave. Maybe some of it has monetary value or sentimental value, but I suspect that much of it, ultimately, will end up at the dumpster and covered with dirt. In fact I would guess there are mountains of junk that are buried, and on top of those mountains, we will once again have green grass! I am reminded that my legacy is not determined by my things but rather by my contributions, my family, my work, my compassion, and my love for others.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Passing of a Generation
My 91 year old grandmother, who we always called Sallie, after nearly 8 years in a nursing home, passed away leaving behind two daughters and three grandsons. She was the last of my grandparents. Prior to her stroke and the onset of Alzeimers, she was a happy lady with a definite and pointed worldview. She was not swayed by the technology surrounding our current culture, but was instead shaped by the hands-on experiences of her life. Hers was the generation before the computer age, before cell phones, even before remote controls, multiple television channels, before immediate and instant communication, before automation of all kinds shapes and sizes.
I recall trying to show her how to use a computer. She of excellent typing skills and office management ability could not deal with the computer, with its odd keyboard, quietness, strange screen, and memory bank. Her inability to comprehend the new robot-like machine led to a general suspicion of its worthiness and ultimately caused its rejection as having any value for her life. She was comfortable with a pen and paper and that comfort level remained throughout most of her life until she could no longer hold a pen. She wrote letters, long letters full of the kind of detail that keeps the mind sharp.
She preferred the dial telephone where you place your finger in the number hole and go around until it stops, but she did accept the new approach of actually touching the numbers and creating tone. She did enjoy talking on the phone with the exception that long distance calls were kept at a minimum due to the costs incurred. She never could escape the fear of the great depression and somehow felt that dollars even pennies should be guarded very carefully. At the same time her reliance on the government to solve the world's problems took her to liberal heights not often found in other family members. She continually supported the democratic party and when asked why, she would say, "You had to be there to understand." She and many others had to place their trust in FDR and that trust got extended to the government at large, a trust that remained throughout her life.
The television was a source of great joy but only for the three channels available. When more channels became the norm, she rejected them, keeping channels 4, 9, and 12 as the reigning champions of television. In addition to the local news and weather, the best channel was the one showing the Dallas Cowboys with Tom Landry and Roger Staubach at the helm, men she knew on a first name basis! Of course commercials brought with them opportunities to serve cake and cookies which had been prepared that morning in the midst of getting ready for a massive meal.
And my grandmother probably never ate the massive meal since the glasses were always filled with tea and the rolls never quit showing up on our plates. Her roving eyes to make sure all were eating and all were happy would land, sometimes with harsh judgment, on the person who was not eating. Meat, vegetables, and bread must all be eaten until there was no more room at which time the pies would arrive. Surrounding this bevy of food was conversation ranging from normal family stuff to local business. From my grandfather, whom we called Ray, a man who knew no strangers and liked everyone he met, I learned about the rich, the poor, the politicians, the lawyers, the Chinese, Mexicans, African-Americans, Indians, Whites, and occasionally some races I didn't know existed. I also learned about property, canned goods, Farah slacks, and the latest car design. Mainly I learned how to love each other in spite of our flaws and to listen carefully for there are always gems of truth to be gleaned in most conversations!
They are gone now, Sallie and Ray, and I miss the old days at times. I miss the constant tuneless whistle Sallie would offer when in the kitchen. I miss the hustle and bustle of meals, of Christmas, of camping trips, and yes even mowing their lawn. I miss the clank of the pipe as my grandfather emptied it, replacing old tobacco for a fresh batch, and I miss the burning of the match as it nearly ignited his finger before a quick flick of the wrist extinguished the flame. Mostly I miss the smiles, the energy, and the unconditional love of my grandparents.
We are now in a new dimension and one that the older generation never did embrace. It is replete with texting, computer searching, youtube videos, email, cell phones, talking cars, automatic lights, complicated kitchen items for ease of cooking, laptops, desktops, and information right at your fingertips. All these things are a part of our everyday lives and make our lives both richer and more complicated. Yet let us not forget that joy doesn't come from the things we see and touch. Joy comes from the love we receive and give to others. Sallie and Ray gave us love and that is what I will miss the most. Thank you!
I recall trying to show her how to use a computer. She of excellent typing skills and office management ability could not deal with the computer, with its odd keyboard, quietness, strange screen, and memory bank. Her inability to comprehend the new robot-like machine led to a general suspicion of its worthiness and ultimately caused its rejection as having any value for her life. She was comfortable with a pen and paper and that comfort level remained throughout most of her life until she could no longer hold a pen. She wrote letters, long letters full of the kind of detail that keeps the mind sharp.
She preferred the dial telephone where you place your finger in the number hole and go around until it stops, but she did accept the new approach of actually touching the numbers and creating tone. She did enjoy talking on the phone with the exception that long distance calls were kept at a minimum due to the costs incurred. She never could escape the fear of the great depression and somehow felt that dollars even pennies should be guarded very carefully. At the same time her reliance on the government to solve the world's problems took her to liberal heights not often found in other family members. She continually supported the democratic party and when asked why, she would say, "You had to be there to understand." She and many others had to place their trust in FDR and that trust got extended to the government at large, a trust that remained throughout her life.
The television was a source of great joy but only for the three channels available. When more channels became the norm, she rejected them, keeping channels 4, 9, and 12 as the reigning champions of television. In addition to the local news and weather, the best channel was the one showing the Dallas Cowboys with Tom Landry and Roger Staubach at the helm, men she knew on a first name basis! Of course commercials brought with them opportunities to serve cake and cookies which had been prepared that morning in the midst of getting ready for a massive meal.
And my grandmother probably never ate the massive meal since the glasses were always filled with tea and the rolls never quit showing up on our plates. Her roving eyes to make sure all were eating and all were happy would land, sometimes with harsh judgment, on the person who was not eating. Meat, vegetables, and bread must all be eaten until there was no more room at which time the pies would arrive. Surrounding this bevy of food was conversation ranging from normal family stuff to local business. From my grandfather, whom we called Ray, a man who knew no strangers and liked everyone he met, I learned about the rich, the poor, the politicians, the lawyers, the Chinese, Mexicans, African-Americans, Indians, Whites, and occasionally some races I didn't know existed. I also learned about property, canned goods, Farah slacks, and the latest car design. Mainly I learned how to love each other in spite of our flaws and to listen carefully for there are always gems of truth to be gleaned in most conversations!
They are gone now, Sallie and Ray, and I miss the old days at times. I miss the constant tuneless whistle Sallie would offer when in the kitchen. I miss the hustle and bustle of meals, of Christmas, of camping trips, and yes even mowing their lawn. I miss the clank of the pipe as my grandfather emptied it, replacing old tobacco for a fresh batch, and I miss the burning of the match as it nearly ignited his finger before a quick flick of the wrist extinguished the flame. Mostly I miss the smiles, the energy, and the unconditional love of my grandparents.
We are now in a new dimension and one that the older generation never did embrace. It is replete with texting, computer searching, youtube videos, email, cell phones, talking cars, automatic lights, complicated kitchen items for ease of cooking, laptops, desktops, and information right at your fingertips. All these things are a part of our everyday lives and make our lives both richer and more complicated. Yet let us not forget that joy doesn't come from the things we see and touch. Joy comes from the love we receive and give to others. Sallie and Ray gave us love and that is what I will miss the most. Thank you!
Monday, December 07, 2009
Texting vs. Speaking
Joel, our 20 year old autistic son, has difficulty speaking most of the time. Some days he speaks little to none while other times he is a little more verbose. Yet, even in his talking moments, rarely does he have something substantial to say. On good days he is full of questions that seem to build on each other. The questions could be about family members or what hymns we are singing or the starting times of events or how old people are or what instruments are being used. Mainly, though, spoken language is a challenge for Joel and he mostly finds himself nodding or speaking very quietly.
Yet a new and rather stunning development has occurred. Joel enjoys texting on his phone. He writes long involved texts that demonstrate a deeper understanding of life, a way to seek beyond the obvious, and a way to express his emotions. Below are some of his texts:
"Hey daddy can you pick me up around 4:00 so I can get my haircut afterwards? See you in an hour and forty-five minutes! Do you think it is going to snow tonight? It is kind of chilly outside! Brrrr! I am taking a cold rc cola break at the library! I am dressed kind of warm! I have a scarf some gloves a hat a jacket and a sweater! Are you wearing a tie today or a turtle neck? I am going to shelve some more books here in a minute! Then I will call you at around 4:00 to pick me up in time to take me to get a haircut! Ttyl bye! P.S. It is my birthday in 5 days! I am going to be 20 years old! Yay!"
and:
"Thanks dad! Do you mind if I wait outside for you at around 3:30? I shelved lots of books today at the library and I might shelve some more books here in just a few minutes! See you at 3:45! Tell all the professors of Howard Payne University I said hi and tell all the students I said hi too! Ttyl bye!"
Of course some texts are shorter and simpler, but in general he speaks more through texting than through talking. Why is this? Is it the strange block that occurs from the brain to the mouth for some autistic children? Does texting actually allow a circumventing of the neurons needed for speaking? Perhaps communication for an autistic child is deeper, requiring a different form and transit from which we are familiar. Perhaps the conduit for expression is a channel not usually found in most people.
Whatever the reason, we are enjoying the new communication and we are enjoying discovering a personality that shines forth from the cell phone! Ah Joel...always keeps us on our toes!
Yet a new and rather stunning development has occurred. Joel enjoys texting on his phone. He writes long involved texts that demonstrate a deeper understanding of life, a way to seek beyond the obvious, and a way to express his emotions. Below are some of his texts:
"Hey daddy can you pick me up around 4:00 so I can get my haircut afterwards? See you in an hour and forty-five minutes! Do you think it is going to snow tonight? It is kind of chilly outside! Brrrr! I am taking a cold rc cola break at the library! I am dressed kind of warm! I have a scarf some gloves a hat a jacket and a sweater! Are you wearing a tie today or a turtle neck? I am going to shelve some more books here in a minute! Then I will call you at around 4:00 to pick me up in time to take me to get a haircut! Ttyl bye! P.S. It is my birthday in 5 days! I am going to be 20 years old! Yay!"
and:
"Thanks dad! Do you mind if I wait outside for you at around 3:30? I shelved lots of books today at the library and I might shelve some more books here in just a few minutes! See you at 3:45! Tell all the professors of Howard Payne University I said hi and tell all the students I said hi too! Ttyl bye!"
Of course some texts are shorter and simpler, but in general he speaks more through texting than through talking. Why is this? Is it the strange block that occurs from the brain to the mouth for some autistic children? Does texting actually allow a circumventing of the neurons needed for speaking? Perhaps communication for an autistic child is deeper, requiring a different form and transit from which we are familiar. Perhaps the conduit for expression is a channel not usually found in most people.
Whatever the reason, we are enjoying the new communication and we are enjoying discovering a personality that shines forth from the cell phone! Ah Joel...always keeps us on our toes!
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Receipts everywhere
Walking into church this evening, I noticed some paper on the ground and stopped to pick it up. Although not an obsessed naturalist by any stretch, I do get concerned with trash and debris scattered about. Not only is it unsightly (an unusual emotion for me as a non-visual learner), but it also is not healthy for the grass or trees. I suppose in my retirement, I might be one of those people who walks around with a pointed stick, relieving the environment of unwanted trash. A roving naturalist doing my part to help the environment, like not washing the towels in an extended stay at a motel, or recycling plastic bottles or avoiding running over the turtles crossing the road. Anyway, back to the event of this evening.
I picked up two old receipts, headed to the dumpster, and began to dwell on one of my irritants in life--receipts. Not all, but perhaps most mornings I pull into a drive-through and order a cup of coffee. There is a sign near the paying window that says "If we fail to hand you a receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase." I, however, wish it said, "If we burden you with a stupid, waste of time receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase."
I am sick of receipts. They clutter up my truck, get in my way, result in excess trash, waste paper, and generally bother me. I have receipts for gas, dry-cleaning, meals, water, snacks, and the list goes on and on. Recognizing the tax benefit of some items, I would actually prefer the option not to receive a receipt rather than the assumption I always want one. Maybe there will be a day when I can simply show my email address and have all receipts emailed to me. That way I can organize the ones that have a tax deduction. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll just put up with the constant flow of receipts and the absurd need to pick them up when I find them outside on the ground. I would furthermore encourage others to use a trash can, since the earth does not need to be our human trash bin.
I picked up two old receipts, headed to the dumpster, and began to dwell on one of my irritants in life--receipts. Not all, but perhaps most mornings I pull into a drive-through and order a cup of coffee. There is a sign near the paying window that says "If we fail to hand you a receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase." I, however, wish it said, "If we burden you with a stupid, waste of time receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase."
I am sick of receipts. They clutter up my truck, get in my way, result in excess trash, waste paper, and generally bother me. I have receipts for gas, dry-cleaning, meals, water, snacks, and the list goes on and on. Recognizing the tax benefit of some items, I would actually prefer the option not to receive a receipt rather than the assumption I always want one. Maybe there will be a day when I can simply show my email address and have all receipts emailed to me. That way I can organize the ones that have a tax deduction. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll just put up with the constant flow of receipts and the absurd need to pick them up when I find them outside on the ground. I would furthermore encourage others to use a trash can, since the earth does not need to be our human trash bin.
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