Chunks

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

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Our daughter Sasha came home from school the other day stressed. Really
stressed, about a math test she had coming up later that week. I could tell
just from listening to her that she felt overwhelmed, at that point where she
had so much to do that she didn’t know where to start.

I asked her what day the test was; Sasha confirmed it was on Thursday (this
day happened to be Tuesday). Then I began sermonizing.

I advised Sasha that instead of looking at the math test as one big item, to
view it as a series of bite-sized chunks. Study a bit tonight, then tomorrow.
Suddenly Thursday’s test, I told her, would start looking much more manageable.
“I promise,” I added for effect at the end.

I realized, of course, almost right as I started sermonizing, that I was
talking to myself as much as I was Sasha. Because lately I find myself wanting
to just slow down. And even when I do practice what I preach and view
what’s on my proverbial plate in bite-sized chunks, I keep going, at least by
my standards, pretty fast.

Before I go any further, I recognize that what I’m feeling comes because of privilege.
I am grateful to have what’s on my plate – a series of family and work
commitments, and they are entirely of my doing. Yet it doesn’t make the
occasional feelings of being overwhelmed seem any less real.

I also believe the season plays a huge role in what I’m feeling. Fall is my
favorite time of year and perhaps it comes from growing up in rural Connecticut
but, outside of drinking pumpkin-flavored beverages, which I’m not big on, I
embrace every other cliched notion associated with the season. Listening to the
leaves under my feet as my wife and I walk our dog Astro. The warm air with
just a hint of chill. The way the sunlight looks at dusk. I love it all.

Most of all, fall is when I’m most aware of needing to slow down because I
want to savior it. It almost becomes this self-fulfilling prophecy because I
always sense time of year as a mad dash. First back to school, then Halloween,
then Thanksgiving and bam! You’re in for the seemingly endless winter, which never can
seem to go fast enough.

So, I just need to take things in bite-sized chunks. A walk here. A soccer
game there. Meetings. Commitments. They’re going to happen one way or another.
I might as well own them as fully as I can.

Funny; it seems so easy when I think of it like that. My hunch is that it
is.

Image credit: Charisse KenionHire

Tethers

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Today is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year for Jews and a time for atonement and repentance. But right now I have two interrelated thoughts on the brain: how hungry I am and how badly I want a cup of coffee. As many of you likely are aware, many Jews choose to fast on Yom Kippur, only for the day, so hunger comes with the territory. Yet I’m never quite prepared for the headaches that I get from complete caffeine withdrawal.

Our family went to services this morning and I did something I almost never do – I left my phone at home. After all, the four of us were together and this was supposed to be a day of reflection. Not checking in to see what I was happening at work, on social media sites or any of the myrid distractions our phone contains.

So I sat at services, trying to concentrate on what was being said. And I did, for the most part. Yet my mind kept drifting back to my phone, lying on our kitchen counter, charging. Undoubtedly full of content for me. The phone just happenend to be right by our Keurig coffee maker. Which I use each and every morning (and afternoon) to make that dark, bitter but oh-so-satisfying elixir.

As I sat there in temple, masked, self-conscious about my fogging glasses, I considered the notion of tethers in our lives. At that moment coffee and my phone, even though neither were present, still served as tetheres – metaphorically attached to me and not wanting to let go. I actually wanted to feel lightened, empowered, by going without them. Yet that just wasn’t the case.

What I’ve always enjoyed about Yom Kippur is it’s this special day that, no matter, when it falls, seems special, unique. But then at sundown you gather for breakfast and life goes on. As it will this year.

Realistically, my life moving forward is going to include plenty of time with my phone and coffee. The main difference is that I am now aware that both are tethers and may restrict me more than I’m willing to admit. And I need to be careful.

If you’ve read along this far, my sense is that you may have tethers in your own life. Sure, coffee and phones are far from unique but there are plenty of others. Ask yourself what it would feel like to go without them; maybe even give it a try. I bet you’d see those tethers in a whole new light.

Image credit: Sigmund, Unsplash

Where the Twain Shall Meet

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

In early August our family took a road trip to Las Vegas and back. We had a blast and on the way home, to pass the time when it wasn’t my turn to drive, I assembled different Spotify playlists. On one I included Vegas-inpsired songs – classics like Frank Sinatra’s “Luck Be A Lady” and “Viva Las Vegas” by Elvis plus offerings by artists like Usher and Shania Twain whose residencies we’d seen promoted.

For Shania Twain I picked one of the two songs of hers I was familiar with – 1998’s “That Don’t Impress Me Much.” When it came on I got a “Wow, Andy” from my wife Wendy in the front seat. Our two teenage kids reacted simarily.

I laughed along with everyone and briefly explained to the kids who Shania Twain was. Then, I listened and had this odd realization: That under its buoyant cheesiness and random, dated spoken sections (“OK, so you’re Brad Pitt”), the song is really good.

Actually, I’d make the case that “That Don’t Impress Me Much” is too good. The vocals, the guitars and melodies; it’s almost like a perfect reproduction of a Country song. Especially for people like me who know next to nothing about Country music.

I recalled that at one time Shania Twain was married to famed Rock producer Robert John “Mutt” Lange. And although my knowledge of Country music is limited, I’m very familiar with Mutt Lange’s extensive work, which includes producing classic albums like AC/DC’s Back in Black, Foreigner’s 4 and Def Leppard’s Pyromania. As random as it might sound to hardcore rock fans, myself included, these albums all feature songs exactly like “That Don’t Impress Me Much.” Expertly-crafted, catchy songs that just get inside your head and stay there.

I wasn’t remotely surprised when I discovered that Mutt Lange wrote and produced “That Don’t Impress Me Much.”

Like all vacations do, our Las Vegas road trip began fading in the recesses of my brain, to be replaced with thoughts of fall, school, work and our daily routines. The trip seemed relagated to a certain season, something you file away. Yet I didn’t want to file it away quite yet.

Earlier this week I was at the gym, cooling down after a run on a Treadmill. I was bored with the music on my Playlist so pulled up “That Don’t Impress Me Much” and gave it a listen, almost as a way to call back our family’s road trip. Except I did it furtively, on the sly; almost like I was afraid someone would catch me in the act. It dawned on me that I still considered the song a guilty pleasure when it was in fact a genuine pleasure.

As of this writing, I’m not necessarily intersted in listening to more of Shania Twain’s music. But I will make an effort to remove “guilty pleasure” from my vocabularly and thinking. And I suppose I have Twain and Mutt Lange to thank.

Image credit: Pawel Szvmanski

Enjoy the Entire Song

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger 

People of a certain age tend to gauge their outlook on life pre- or post-September 11, 2011. Heading into that time frame, I believed I had found my groove.  I had been blissfully married for more than two years, had transitioned from a job to a career.  My wife Wendy and I had our first home and our first dog.  I was content.

I remember standing on our deck that beautiful September evening, after spending most of the day inside, first at work and then in our living room, watching CNN.  Earlier that morning, the entire world had changed, in a matter of minutes.  But I knew I would get to make dinner, take the dog for a walk, watch the news again, and go to sleep.  And have the opportunity to do it all over again the next day.

During the next few weeks, I tried to be more contemplative.  I began paying closer attention to the newspaper.  I bought a book by Thomas Friedman.  Yet life – my job, my relationships, my family, kept intruding.  I felt a bit selfish; maybe even shallow.  Didn’t September 11 teach me anything?

I was running a quick errand about six weeks after September 11.  “Life on a Chain,” the Pete Yorn song off his amazing album, Musicforthemorningafter, had just come on the car radio as I approached my parking spot.  I was in a rush; I wanted to shut off the car, go into the store and complete my errand.  Instead, I sat in the driver’s seat, by myself, staring out the windshield until the song was finished.  Then I completed my errand and returned home.

I didn’t process it until much later but September 11 reminded me that life is full of precious small moments.  So if you hear a song that you enjoy, take the time to listen to it. It might be the best part of your day.  You also might not be around the next time it airs.

I heard “Life on a Chain” the other day as I was midway through completng a workout.  I made sure to let it play all the way through.  The sun hadn’t come up yet.  And I had no way of knowing what the rest of the day would bring.

Imagre credit: Frank Albrecht

Classic is as Classic Does

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I’ve been an avid music fan for a big chunk of my life but it’s only recently that I’ve discovered an error of my ways. Without realizing it, I tend to break music into three categories: new, new-to-me and old. For me the first is comprised of bands like The Beach Boys, Beatles, Rolling Stones, The Kinks and others whose songs I’ve been listening to my entire life and always will. The new-to-me category tends to include the Metal bands I’ve embraced during the past 10 or so years like Slipknot, Anthrax, Metallica and their ilk. And I credit our two teenage kids for helping me appreicate newer Pop music like Dua Lipa, Doja Cat and Olivia Rodrigo.

But the reality is that viewing music in these simplistic, subjective terms is pretty myopic. Because some fairly old bands are creating a ton of new music. And my sense is that a large part of it isn’t being heard.

Yesterday I listenend to Senjutsu, a brand-new album by Iron Maiden. The album, like all of Maiden’s work, sounded fresh, unique and not-at-all-dated. Now, my sense is that except for one or two of you, most reading this post will have never heard a song by Iron Maiden. But you may unfairly be relegating them to the “What ever happened to?” category. While the reality is that they’ve never stopped making music.

Let’s go with bands more familiar bands like Styx and Night Ranger. I bet you’ve heard “Sister Christian” or “Renegade” sometime within the past few weeks if not days, if you ever listen to Classic Rock radio. Yet Styx realeased an album of new material, Crash of the Crown, this past June. And Night Ranger released the similarly new and original ATBPO (And The Band Played On) just last month. I can tell you I listened to almost all of ATBPO recently and it was quite good.

I learned of these releases from music-themed podcasts I listen to that feature interviews with members of both bands. These musicians, who have been at it a long time, have no illusiions about the new releases. They understand that in today’s world of digital streaming, the albums won’t make much, if any money. And that, when they play the new songs in concert, that’s when many in the audience will decide to visit the restroom or get a beer.

These musicians understand that they could spend years resting on their proverbial laurels – letting their past work speak for itself. Yet they make new music because that’s what gives them pleasure – making something from nothing and sharing it with the world. Then, if it does resonate with someone, even one person, then that’s all the better.

Many of us, myself included, might, on the surface, have difficulty relating to a professional musician, let alone a “Classic” or “Legacy” artist. But we’ve all felt the comfortable pull of the familiar when something new and challenging awaits us. And know that sometimes, a little motivation can go a long way.

Image credit: Aaron Burden

Summer’s Last Chapter

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I’ve been an avid reader my entire life but there’s something special about summer reading that’s stayed with me all these years. Even though, like most of you, I spend my summers working, I still aim to get in as much reading as I can and view the endeavor almost as a project. Up until about five years ago or so, I was always a one-book-at-a-time reader. But then I’d see our daughter Sasha with multiple books on her nightstand, all with bookmarks noting different stages of progess. So I started reading multiple books at once and truthfully, I’m not sure I prefer it, but not ready to go back to my old habits.

Here are the three books that, as we close out summer, are still, in one form or another, in the mix.

The Eye of the World – Robert Jordan (started reading in October 2019 – less than 100 pages left )
The Eye of the World is the first novel in Jordan’s “Wheel of Time” Fantasy series, that comprised 14 books, each of which is several hundred pages. At the rate I’m going I’ll be an old man if I ever finish the series, which is highly unlikely. I came upon the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre in kind of a convulted way. For years I liked the idea of the genre more than the books themselves. So I almost forced myself to enjoy the genre to the point where, during the past three or four years, most of the books I read could be categorized as either Science Fiction or Fantasy. Robert Jordan focused on world-building. A bit too much, for my taste. I just need to finish this sucker.

Children of Dune – Frank Herbert (started reading in June 2021 – one-fifth of the way through)
I read Herbert’s original Dune as my first summer book this past May and then quickly read the much-shorter Dune Messiah immediately after, before starting Children of Dune. My brother Jonathan, an avid reader himself and huge Dune fan, had given me the books as a birthday gift. The Dune series, which comprises six books, is something of a Science Fiction classic and there’s a new Dune movie coming out this fall. Herbert is a great writer, no doubt about it, but tends to be grim and humorless. There’s something of an eat-your-veggies feel to these books and I needed a break.

The Adventures of Augie March – Saul Bellow (started reading earlier this month – a bit more than halfway through)
Shortly after I began Children of Dune, I was walking our dog Astro and came upon the 1983 Elmore Leonard novel LaBrava in a neighborhood Little Free Library box. I brought it home and devoured it in a week, which whetted my appetite for crime fiction, another favorite genre of mine. So I read the much-longer This Storm by James Ellroy, the second book in his planned second “La Quartet.” I’m something of an Ellroy super-fan and recall that he mentioned being influnced by The Adventures of Augie March, so decided to give it a try. Bellow’s 1953 Depression-era coming-of-age story is excellent and I highly recommend it for anyone interested by the 20th century immigrant experience. It’s very long, however, character-driven, and provides a rewarding reading experience if you have the time to focus on it.

Based on my slower, steady-as-she goes reading habits, my sense is I’ll finish all three of these books sometime this fall. It’s my hope this list inspired you to head to the library, book store, or go online. Or perhaps finish that book you started when summer first began. So you can get one more summer reading book checked off the list.

Happy reading.

Image credit: Aaron Burden

The Perspective Loop

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

When I first began my blog, back in August 2012, one of the first posts I wrote was titled “A Bottom-Up Approach Toward Perspective.” I made the case that we tend to take a top-down view of perspective – learning of some dramatic event and then projecting ourselves into the situation. But instead, we should take a bottom-up approach – focusing on our own behavior.

In hindsight, I believe I was wrong. Or at least not as fully grasping perspective the way I do now. Because as I’ve gotten older I realize perspective is all about waiting for everything to come full circle again.

As a parent of teenagers – our son Ethan is 16 and our daughter Sasha 14, I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about perspective. Unlike when they were much younger, Ethan and Sasha are now at ages that I remember quite well. Yet I find it inceasingly harder to get back into that headspace.

I see what Ethan and Sasha get themselves so worked up over. And because I have the perspective that being an adult affords you, I want so badly to tell them it’s no big deal, that, forgive the cliche, this too will pass. But I can’t bring myself to do this. Because I know Ethan and Sasha will need to take that emotional full circle journey on their own.

Another reason I have perspective on the brain is because of what I’ve recently experienced in my own life. Forgive me for being so vague but, without getting into the details, I faced an unplanned change. And, like many of us do when this happens, I had to adapt.

My adaptation happened in waves. I’d feel angry and frustrated, like I was spinning my wheels. This was followed by brief spurts where I’d experience what I perceived as a ton of progress. Then a nice, let’s-just-keep-this-going cruise control phase. Followed by anger and frustration. Then the cycle would repeat itself.

But eventually another change occured; this time a planned one. And all that anger and frustration I mentioned somehow seemed to vanish. Poof. Just like that. Sure, I tried to call it up sometimes, just to make sure that it was real. Yet when I did that I almost heard this little voice inside my head telling me to back off, like, “Dude, it’s over. Stop dwelling and move on.”

And move on I will. Carrying forth with the knowledge that everything I face from this point forward – good, bad and indifferent, will be right there waiting for me in the form of perspective.

Image credit: Etienne Girardet