Rockin’ the Kids’ Music World

A little over a month ago, on May 21st, I wrote a blog entry about music I’d played with my students. A couple of days later, I heard Elizabeth Edwards being interviewed on the radio. She talked about being on the campaign trail with her husband while dealing with her breast cancer. At the time, I thought, “That poor woman…”

A few days after that, on May 27th, my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I wish I could write well enough to describe the feeling I had when the surgeon came into the room and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have very good news for you…” It was probably the closest I’ve ever come to having an out-of-body experience. I went completely numb. I felt as if I were observing someone else having the discussion that we were having with the surgeon. Somehow, I was listening to that radio interview again. It was someone else who had this problem and I wanted to be able to say, ‘Those poor people…”

We had walked into the office that day fully believing the most optimistic of what we had been told: changes in younger women’s breast tissue over the course of any given month is normal because of hormonal changes - therefore lumps aren’t uncommon…the lump was most certainly just a fibrous cyst…the lump was painful - this was a good sign…

And now, suddenly, we were discussing mastectomy.

We were stunned. I didn’t go to work for two days. When I called my mom to tell her, I couldn’t say the words, “Tonya has breast cancer.” It wasn’t until I called my boss to explain my absence that I actually said it, but even then, I asked him not to tell anyone. It was as if I believed that if I ignored it long enough, I could make it go away.

Since that time, we have met with surgeons, genetic counselors, oncologists and social workers. We have learned a new language: “hormone receptors, her-2 positive, BRCA gene,” and so on. Tonya has been through two surgeries and difficult recoveries and is facing a third. She is looking ahead to months of chemo and radiation. It is a rare moment that we are not hyper-aware of the mind-numbing fact: Tonya has breast cancer.

Against that awful backdrop, we have seen a tremendous outpouring of kindness from our friends, family and community. As we rush to doctors appointments, dinners have appeared on our porch every night. People have left bags of groceries, pies, cookies and cards. An anonymous fund sprang up in town to send our kids to day camp as Tonya recovered from her mastectomies.

Through all of this, Tonya has reminded me why I fell in love with her. While she is scared, she is funny, strong, determined and somehow still nurturing.

I realized early on that this diagnosis will change our lives for sometime to come. It will, undoubtedly, be what I’m writing about in one form or another for awhile. I know I began this as a blog, “…about kid’s music - the music I play for kids, the music I want kids to hear, and my life as a Dad.” What can I say? Mostly that I should have added “and my life as a husband,” to that description.

By the way, Tonya has started a blog about her experience. If you’re interested, it’s here: Tonya at Caring Bridge.

One last thing. We are wide open to advice…on diet, on talking to the kids about this, on pre and post chemo things to do. We are also loving to hear success stories; we have found them to be affirming and uplifting. Thanks!

My niece is in 3rd grade - and she’s a real zinger. I remember playing songs for her pre-school when she was three or four (the kids were rocking out to “Five Little Speckled Frogs”…so that’s my age reference) - and Celia walked out in front of the entire class, like a sergeant leading her troops through a basic training drill. I mentioned it to her teacher, and she responded, “She is an organizer - ” That’s the kind of appropriately vague, non-evaluative statement that makes me wonder. At the time, I decided to take it as a compliment to Celia.

About a week ago, I was watching the brood (my 3 plus my sister’s 5, and, yes that does equal 8 kids…), when Celia asked, “Uncle Steve, will you write me a song for the talent show we’re having at school?” I said (of course), “Yes, honey, what do you want it to be about?” She said, “I’m not sure, I’ll think about it…”

Celia called tonight and said, “Uncle Steve, can you write my song about how girls have power?” PAUSE - this is my 9 year old niece talking - allow me to review that quote, “Uncle Steve, can you write my song about how girls have power?” WOW! I hope, when my daughter is 9, 12, 15, 18…and so on, she wants me to write her songs about how girls have power, about how she has power - I’ll start writing those songs now and (hopefully) continue for a long time.

Girls have power? Indeed they do!

I did have to ask Celia what it means to have power as a third grader (mainly because I don’t want to invest all MY hopes, dreams and political opinions in this song). It may well be, in her perception, that having power means having parents who have the best car - but I really hope (and believe) that it goes deeper than that. She’s writing me a list of the things that make her feel powerful - so it remains to be seen - but I actually think that Celia is tapped into something that’s pretty profound as far as our society goes. She is a girl who knows she has power - she’s not second guessing herself at all.

My experience as a teacher suggests a similar dynamic - girls know they have power. I have asked my eighteen year old students how many would call themselves feminists, and felt like a dinosaur because none of them would- the term itself feels obsolete (don’t get me wrong here, I do call myself a feminist and I argue the cause), but girls today seem to look at you like an alien when you even suggest that the idea of feminism is needed. “Of course we are equal - why wouldn’t we be?” (Could this be why Hillary’s campaign has found traction among middle-aged women, but not in the younger crowd - for them, is it just a detail that we haven’t had a woman as a president?)

So Celia is writing her list, and I’ll be writing her a song…I just hope I can do the sentiment justice - stay tuned!

Twinkle Twinkle.mp3

After writing about this song (here), I set to work recording it - you may have been one of the few lucky ones to have downloaded the now rare (and deleted) version that I posted earlier today - I tried to clean it up, and offer this version now - Mozart did 12 variations on this tune - I’m on my second, and may try a few more before it’s all said and done. It’s an interesting song - weird that I could do a bass line that isn’t too far from Pachabel Canon in D - Anyway, enjoy this variation - I’m going to shoot for at least 10 more. Look for them to pop up every now and again.

Oh yeah, here’s the entire poem…if you wanted to keep singing -

The Star

The opening lines of the Disney-Pixar film “Finding Nemo” relate a (somewhat) touching exchange between a husband and wife as they settle into their new home and contemplate their soon-to-be family…They are in essence ‘ pregnant’ (the fertilized eggs are outside the fish…cuts down on labor pain), and are setting up the new nursery (we’ve all been there) - here are the lines:
Marlin: Wow.
Coral: Mmm.
Marlin: Wow.
Coral: Mm-hmm.
Marlin: Wow.
Coral: Yes, Marlin. I… No, I see it. It’s beautiful.
Marlin: So, Coral, when you said you wanted an ocean view, you didn’t think you were going to get the whole ocean, did you? Huh?
[deep breath]
Marlin: Oh, yeah. A fish can breathe out here. Did your man deliver, or did he deliver?

In the ensuing scene, Coral (aka MOM/WIFE) and all but one of the eggs are devoured by some ravenous sea creature (an eel?). True to Disney’s longstanding tradition, mom and wife are killed off and taken out of the picture before she has any impact at all. Hmmmmm….

“Mom? Mom…where are you!?”

I’m going to take a little break from the music scene to contemplate this Disney curiosity (pathology?). First a list of films (that I can recollect) that belong to the Disney Dead Mom’s Club (These are in no particular order):

• Bambi
• Dumbo (OK,not dead, but caged and considered insane)
• Snow White
• Cinderella
• Pinocchio (Maybe this is unfair, Gepetto is a pretty irresponsible Dad, though, getting pregnant with no mom to support him…)
• Jungle Book (OK, Walt was an equal opportunity killer there, knocking Mom and Dad off…Speaking of equal opportunity, how about that “Lion King?” Just Dad was killed…)
• The Little Mermaid (Actually, this may have been a divorce situation…in any event, mom/wife is no where to be seen.)
• Pocahantas
• Aladin (neither the hero or the heroine have a Mom)
• The Fox and the Hound (another orphan situation with Tod, the fox)
• Beauty and the Beast
• Max and Goofy…(again, it’s hard to say here, who would marry Goofy after all? Some quasi-dog lady probably just went home with him one night after one-too-many at the local pub, then left him with the kid…)
• Cars (Just kidding, Cars don’t really talk or have relationships - they are made on production lines which, if I remember my high school biology correctly, might also be referred to as asexual reproduction.)

So, as this large body of work demonstrates, Walt Disney, and the whole Disney family, it would seem, has an issue with parents generally, and specifically with moms…why? An internet search of Walt’s family history doesn’t offer a lot of insight (granted, I didn’t look too hard)…Wikipedia states, “Walt and his sister Ruth attended the Benton Grammar School where he met Walter Pfeiffer. The Pfeiffers were theatre aficionados, and introduced Walt to the world of vaudeville and motion pictures. Soon, Walt was spending more time at the Pfeiffers’ than at home… ^[6]“(Read the whole bio here: Walt Disney at Wikipedia). Does the fact that Walt effectively left home at the age of 9 indicate some deep divisions in the Disney home? Could he have left home because of a domineering Mom who emasculated him and ensured that generations thereafter would suffer through scores of animated features which are, in essence, Walt’s working out his childhood demons based on his fear of his mother? Probably, but without some major research, we can only speculate.

The other option, of course, is that Walt and company needed a quick dramatic jolt to jettison their early films deep into the public consciousness. What better than the death of a mom? What, after all, is more sacred than motherhood? The concept is shocking, and it doesn’t take a cynic to imagine Walt and the boys sitting around trying to figure out how to move their little children’s film from average to blockbuster. The room, of course, was full of cigar smoke, and one of the guys said, “Let’s off the mom…that’ll get some attention…” It’s cheap, easy emotion, and, in a two hour film, it leaves lots of room for musical numbers and some comedy. After that first time, when Bambi hit the big numbers, the boys were hooked, and they’ve never looked back. It keeps paying, as “Nemo” showed us in 2003, sixty-one years after Bambi’s 1942 release.

So why doesn’t Disney love Moms? Simple, it doesn’t pay, and, in spite of what Mickey and the rest would have you believe, this is all about the money…they can’t let a few moms get in the way…

So, in tribute to Bambi’s and all the other Disney moms and wives out there - here’s an Evanescence song…we’re with you Bambi and Bambi’s Mom, Nemo and Coral, Dumbo and Dumbo’s Mom, etc….you live on, no matter what Walt put you through!

Will someone tell me what it is about Reggae that enchants children so? Something tells me it’s not the choice of colors. (although they are appealing):

No, it is the music that captures kids - and I will admit, for me as well, reggae is enchanting…I’ve spent more time in my life than I probably should have at Jimmy Cliff concerts, reggae fests, Wailers shows (Bob had died by then, alas), UB40 shows, Toots and the Maytal shows, English Beat/General Public shows, etc., etc…I get it - and so do kids, from the womb, it would seem (maybe the reggae beat mimics the mothers’ heartbeat…Mom’s Heart - Bob Marley?) .

I’m not kidding here - try it. A friend of mine told me about a reggae album he had for kids - it’s titled “Reggae for Kids” (wow, the originality is overwhelming, there). My response is, why bother? Just put on Peter Tosh (OK, skip “Legalize It” if you want to avoid a strange conversation with your six year old), Bob Marley, Steel Pulse…it doesn’t matter, kids hear that characteristic ‘chunk-kunk, chunk-kunk” (here it is from Peter T. - Pick Myself Up.mp3), or that rhythmic lead in on the high timbale (here it is from Steel Pulse - Steppin Out.mp3), and they’re dancin’…

I have experimented with this a bunch, in my own music…here’re a couple of clips of our attempts at reggae:

• Aquarium.mp3
• Puddles.mp3

…and with my own kids - here, as evidence that Reggae works, are some photos of Gus, who had been sitting at the table painting, but couldn’t helped being moved to dance right in his seat…irie!

“Don’t worry….

…about a thing…

“…cause every little thing…”

“…is gonna be alright!”

About six months ago, Abe’s buddy Cayden moved out of town. It was tough for Abe’s four year old psyche to handle, and we ended up having a number of conversations about the transient nature of friendship (ok, I’ll admit I never used the word ‘transient’ in those discussions…also, the conversations usually were more transient than any friendship I know of, because Abe would get distracted by a matchbox dump truck or something after about 90 seconds of deep conversation, but it was still touching…). Anyway, Cayden came back to town this week for a visit, and he and Abe hit every note (sizing each other up, playing beautifully together, arguing about sharing, parallel playing, and even a hug) within about four minutes. It got me thinking about my old friends, and then (and this couldn’t have been better timed unless it was in some bad movie), my long time buddy Chris sent me an e-mail.

I met Chris my first day in high school; you remember that day, don’t you? You wander around, looking for anyone who looks vaguely approachable…Chris was in a bunch of my classes and somehow, in our first conversation, we ended up talking about Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” Chris knew about Springsteen, I had heard Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s remake…who do you think was cooler? Anyway, one thing led to another, and Chris and I formed a band. After looking at a bunch of book spines at a local bookstore, we named our band “Onyx,” after the famous book by Jacqueline Briskin (you know it, don’t you?) You can find it here if you’re interested. Here we are in an undated promo photo (I’m thinking it was sometime in the late eighties…twenty or so years ago (ouch):

Onyx - circa ?

We recorded a few CD’s on a Tascam 4 track - here’s a sample, to give you an idea… Letter.mp3 .

Chris emailed to let me know that he had been checking out my blog and enjoying it - then, like any good old friend, he told me how great he thought the whole thing was…It’s not surprising that Chris, being the cooler of the two friends, started his blog long ago; he’s an old hand at it, so I took his compliments as words from a seasoned professional. He’s at http://blog.myspace.com/greenmtwriter , if you’re interested in reading some of of his sharp and very funny observations about the world. As you’re reading , remember that those little people who are fighting over dump trucks today in your living room, will eventually be teenagers making (very loud) music in that same living room, BUT THEN will eventually become old friends who, twenty or so years later, laugh about it all.

Bruce Springsteen’s 2006 release, The Seeger Sessions is a great CD for kids - try it some time. Recently Abe and I were listening to it as background music. “Froggie Went a Courtin’” came on - I’m sure you’ve heard it somewhere along the way, lots of kids singers have done very vanilla versions of the song, but not Bruce - not the BOSS. He does it like it ought to be done (of course), and Abe was groovin’ to the tune. If you’re familiar with the song, you know how it goes - Froggie goes a courtin,’ woos Miss Mousie, they have the wedding and then we get a list of all the guests…”First to come in was a flyin’ moth, she spread out the table cloth…” and so on.

“Next to come in was a BIG BLACK SNAKE!”

I want to pause for a moment here - and say two things. First, our kids are pretty naive. I wish I could tell you it’s because we knew what we were doing. Truth is, it was because of inertia. When Isabel went to pre-school, we had never moved beyond Sesame Street - why would we when it worked so well? (OK, I do need to admit that it took me awhile to get over Baby Bear’s speech impediment.) I’ll never forget ‘Daddy Pizza and Movie Night’ when we went to the pre-school with all the other kids and dads. The movie was “Finding Nemo,” and Isabel didn’t make it past the first scene (by the way, what’s Disney’s issues with Mom’s?) All the other kids wondered why my daughter was crying and saying “I want to go home…” At the time, I felt like saying, ‘It’s because the kid’s/fish’s mother was just killed - the biggest crisis she’s ever had to deal with on TV is Big Bird having trouble finding Ernie!!!’ I didn’t say that to all the jeering four and five year olds, though, I just picked up my crying little girl and left. The second thing I need to tell you is that Abe is a lyrics-hound. He listens intently and repeats lyrics to himself. He likes the sound of words. Sometimes, days after we see a movie, we’ll hear Abe repeating the lines…a little like the guy I hung out with in college who used to repeat Caddyshack lines…scary.

So, back to “Froggie Went a Courtin.’ As we made our way through the wedding, we eventually came to the line that Abe would repeat again and again. He’d listen to it with the same sort of glee that someone might go into a haunted house at an amusement park . The line is of course, “Next to come in was a Big Black Snake - chased them all into the lake…” Here it is, that line is, from Bruce, in all it’s glory - Springsteen Froggie Clip - For a coupe of weeks, that snake was the villain in our games, he woke up Abe (and, consequently Tonya and me) more than once in the middle of the night…to have the imagination of a child. Strangely, though, this song has intrigued a lot of people over the years…

Here’s one loyal Springsteen fan’s attept to list all the other recordings of the song - Versions of Froggie Went a Courtin’ . Another devotee of the song has listed the over 170 verses of the song that have been written or sung since it’s first printed incarnation in 1611 here - Froggie Verses . The song’s one drawback…it’s repetitive. Man, is this song repetitive - but that, of course, cuts both ways. It drives us adults crazy, but sucks our kids in - it’s probably the reason why this song has lasted so long, and probably why, 400 years after it was first written, it can still give a little boy the chills.

We have a piano in the front room of our house that used to belong to the Francestown Academy. The Academy has been out of business for awhile now, but in its day, it was pretty impressive. It’s alumnae included a couple of US Senators, state Supreme Court Justices, a US Supreme Court Justice and Secretary of the Navy (Levi Woodbury), Eben Locke, “whose father fired the first gun of the Revolution,” and perhaps most famous, Franklin Pierce, US Senator and PRESIDENT of the United States.

We bought this piano at The Francestown Labor Day Festival for $50 (truth is, the $50 was more of a donation. I’m guessing the Francestown Historical Society would have paid us to get the thing off the stage - which I did, with three of my strongest friends, a piano jack, a couple of 2×8’s and a lot of luck). After it’s tenure with the Academy, our piano had played for many, many years, the second Saturday of each month in the Francestown Contra Dance - but, it had fallen out of tune, and they couldn’t seem to get it back in. We lucked onto the scene, and for a mere $50, and a few months of visits to the chiropractor, it was ours.

Franklin Pierce Played Here…

Actually, though, when I was driving home from work that Tuesday, I wasn’t thinking about the piano, the academy, or even US presidents. I was thinking about the fact that it was about 30 degrees in January, the sun was shining and it would be a perfect day to polish up our sled track in the back yard - we might finally get the luge track I’d been hoping for. Abe was at a friend’s house, Gus would probably be napping, and Isabel loves to sled. I walked in the door as Tonya was walking out, “I have to go get Abe, make sure you practice piano with Isabel…”

Suddenly that piano loomed large, blocking out sun and fun and sledding…”let’s go Isabel, let’s get this done, I want to get outside.” There were three songs - 48 notes, total (when you’re practicing with a beginning pianist, you have time to count). The first two went beautifully…the first half of the third song, “Legato Skips,” was great, but then…but then…the last eight notes, Isabel stalled. Lot’s of, “Come on, honey, you can do it…” “I can’t, I can’t…” ensued. Finally, I said, let’s just stop, and go outside, but then she wanted to finish - but still ‘couldn’t.’ We were frozen at the piano. I envisioned Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the Navy, having a tantrum at this piano. I imagined Franklin Pierce trying to make his way through the 19th century’s equivalent of “Legato Skips” (which may well have been “Legato Skips…”)

As Isabel began crying at full tilt - stuck between wanting to please me and those 8 notes, my mind raced between trying to be patient, wondering if I was being too patient, and the sledding hill. Then, suddenly, she said it…”You’re not my daddy anymore!” (actually, she sort of cried/screamed it.) I should pause here. I’m assuming that, if you are reading this, you are a parent. If you’re not, you may not understand how my daughter could have uttered such a profound statement, which seems so out of proportion to the situation. Welcome to the twilight zone of parenthood where sometimes things happen that are so strange and out of context that you learn to accept the fact that there simply is no explanation (a little like what comets must have been to stone-age people).

Anyway, I wish I could say that I wept and embraced my daughter, and she cried and realized the error of her ways, like the end of an Eight is Enough episode. That’s not what happened, though. I got up and said, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” About five minutes later she came into the kitchen and said, “Daddy, do you still want to go sledding?”   I said, “Sure, let’s go.”  On our second run, as we reached speeds that neared those of a luge, and all was forgotten, I began to wonder if Franklin Pierce had ever slid down this hill.

Wonder Blink Photography

Since the day I met her, my wife Tonya has been a natural behind the camera - great for me, because it means I never have to take any pictures (I’m the type of photographer who thinks I have an astounding shot, but forgets about the clutter in the background, forgets to focus, or ends up taking a close-up of my pinkie). The thing about photography is you need to hold a bunch of things in your head at the same - not one of my strengths. Tonya, on the other hand, seems to be able to think about stuff and DO things at the same time - amazing from my perspective…and her photos are amazing from my perspective as well - here are a couple:

Our kids on Wallis Sands Beach on the New Hampshire Coast

Isabel and Abe

For years, Tonya has thought seriously about starting a photography business - this year, she and her friend Diana decided to finally do it. They began Wonder Blink Photography this spring, and have been doing lots of family photo shoots since - they shoot a candid photo-journalistic style - and seem to be able to capture the twinkle in a little girl’s eye, the love of a mom for her kids or the fleeting look of glee in a child’s face, like few photographers I have seen. OK, so I know I’m biased, but take a look for yourself -and while you’re at it, check out her blog - wonderblinkblog - not only is she a great photographer, she’s full of wit and wisdom too!

I remember when I got my first AC/DC album - I was 12, it was “Back in Black.” My older sister’s bad-boy, motorcycle driving boyfriend gave it to me for Christmas (he must have been moved by the season). You probably remember the first song, “Hell’s Bells;” it starts with that ominous bell and then the really cool guitar riff - here it is, in case you forgot -hells-bells.mp3. I have to be honest, here, even after 27 years, it’s really good! It has it all - Angus and that riff, a great build-up, some serious drumming and Brian Johnson’s singing - it rocked, I can’t play it for my kids, though, it would scare them - bad.

So, as I dusted off my old cassettes, I started to ask, how can I give this stuff to my kids…? Take “You Shook Me All Night Long,” ouch - we all know what that song’s about, our five year olds don’t…”Shoot to Thrill,” no way, “Have a Drink on Me,” uh-uh, “What Do You Do for Money, Honey?”… yeah, no. In spite of Angus and the boy’s intentions, though, I hear potential for kids here…

“Shake a Leg,” “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution,” a few more, I’m sure - rework them and before you know it, you have a set list for a kids’s show…almost.

Stay tuned - I’ll throw up a couple of AC/DC numbers redone for the kids in the next day or two -