Alexandersmap

    Category: Music

    • Crazy or Old

      She thinks I’m crazy
      But I’m just growing old
      — Steely Dan, Hey Nineteen

      I imagine that I’d heard Hey Nineteen many times prior to when it took root in my lifetime soundtrack, but it was when I was nineteen myself when it finally resonated. The song was already considered “classic rock” by then, but for Gen X, we were used to discovering the music of the generation before ours on our own terms. At nineteen I rounded up all the Steely Dan albums and proceeded to immerse myself in them for a few years before banishing them with all rock deemed “classic rock” for a decade in favor of my generation’s music. Now that too is called classic.

      Drink with good people
      Get high as a kite
      Before they drift away
      Out of mind and out of sight
      Well that’s not to say you lose
      Everything and everyone
      Hear me out, take your time
      And watch the setting sun
      Take your hands out of your pockets
      Feel the water run
      Don’t worry about tomorrow and yesterday
      Is gone
      — Caamp, Of Love and Life

      Caamp is made up of men who graduated high school in 2012. So they’re decidedly not of my generation, but they’re old souls just the same. We learn that it’s not how old someone is, but what they have to offer. We ought to remember this of ourselves too. Keep offering something to the world and we never really grow old.

      Call me crazy, but I believe in the power of a great song to transform our perspective and set us free to be something beyond our current identity. My soundtrack is made up of old and new, but the songs that resonate and repeat have something to say. Crazy, old or maybe both, I collect poetry in song, and will carry it with me to the end of this ride.

    • Page-Turning

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
      — Mary Oliver, Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches

      When Mary Oliver writes, in the poem quoted above, that there is still time left—fields everywhere invite you into them, I admit that I’ve received the invitation, and I’m stepping into the field. But as bold as I am in some moments, there are times when I breathe just a little. Isn’t it that way for all of us? We talk a good game, but then we do what must be done to keep the lights on and the puppy fed. Life is compromise, we tell ourselves. But sure, there is still time left.

      So if you’re tired of the same old story
      Oh, turn some pages
      — REO Speedwagon, Roll with the Changes

      There’s been some serious page-turning going on this year—enough that a scorecard might be appropriate. Global changes. Personal changes. Every day offers a transformation if we let ourselves step outside of our routine long enough to see it. And we ought to keep track of our lives in such a way, through journals and pictures and retrospect. Just see how far we’ve come! And always the question; just where are we going next?

      And still there is time left. Still it feels sometimes that we are breathing just a little, calling it a life. The thing to do, it seems, is to be bold right now: aware and alive, doing that thing that demands our attention in this small measure of time. The next step will take care of itself, if only we would change our story right now. To breathe deeply—while doing that which leaves us breathless, is where boldness lies awaiting action.

    • 50 Years: SS Edmund Fitzgerald

      Does anyone know where the love of God goes
      When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
      The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
      If they’d put 15 more miles behind her
      They might have split up or they might have capsized
      They may have broke deep and took water
      And all that remains is the faces and the names
      Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

      — Gordon Lightfoot, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

      I’d be remiss to let the 50th anniversary of the sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald pass without a mention. It would be a footnote were it not for the Gordon Lightfoot song that made ship and crew immortal, but tell that to the families. We all pass eventually, preferably peacefully in our sleep a long time from now. An abrupt, tragic end was not on anyone’s mind when those 29 men sailed off into history. One wonders what their final moments were like, but what is certain is that all hands were lost and the ship broke in two. It was the final straw for shipping on the Great Lakes, prompting higher safety standards and oversight. And perhaps that is the ultimate legacy of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

    • More Than Virtual

      I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me
      And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh)
      I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me
      Tell me, is it just a dream?
      — Rockwell, Somebody’s Watching Me

      It was raining hard overnight, with a full moon to boot, but that didn’t stop my aurora notification from alerting me to the possibility of seeing the northern lights right now if I’d only get out of bed and step outside! Nope. Not taking the bait, thank you. But thank you for contributing to my not-so-excellent sleep score.

      If we let it, technology will increasingly control our lives. We learn to live by number of steps, VO2 max, heart rate, active minutes and rest. My Kindle app helpfully informs me that my reading streak ended (I don’t want to break it to the app, but I’ve been reading actual books behind its back). I get a notification telling me how much screen time I’ve had this week, and the irony of being notified to look at my screen doesn’t escape me. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t use these damned devices.

      We take our wearables with us everywhere, and increasingly, our phones as well. The other day I deliberately left my Garmin on my desk when I went to bed, just so I wouldn’t be scolded for my sleep score the next morning. The void in my data history will likely haunt me forever, but it was nice for one night to not be followed along every step of the way.

      Right. Not being followed. Who am I fooling? I walked into an LL Bean store to buy a new belt to replace the one that was now too big for me and now my Instagram feed is full of LL Bean advertisements. We have a virtual heat map of everywhere we’ve been whenever we wear or carry our technology. There is no escape save shedding it all and going analog.

      It’s not like I don’t appreciate the statistics. As a data-driven spreadsheet nerd, I love tracking trends, maintaining positive habit streaks and the like. But I like it on my terms. We’ve let the genie out of the bottle, and technology is not going back to the mainframe server room. We either dance with the devil or unplug completely. Which is worse? Ask AI, it will surely tell you.

      Maybe I’ll just begin by turning off the aurora notifications. Maybe. Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is alive and well in such notifications, and they’re helpfully suggesting that we stop living a real life and look at the screen again. But just who do we want to be anyway? More than virtual, for starters.

    • Fully-Valued

      “To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.” — Mark Twain

      Joy shifts time. It locks moments in amber. It makes years seem like days, even as days seem like minutes. It’s all a collection of joyful minutes, sprinkled with the jolts that life throws at us all. We learn to value our time together for the shared experience of living as the world sweeps past us like a swollen river after a storm.

      Now everyone dreams of love lasting and true
      Oh but you and I know what this world can do
      So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see
      And I’ll wait for you, and if I should fall behind wait for me
      — Bruce Springsteen, If I Should Fall Behind

      We live in our time machine, my bride and I. I know it’s a time machine because I look at old photographs, or think back on certain moments, and when I compare them with the date they were taken I’m shocked by the time that has flown by. We are betrayed by years, but we aren’t yet old. But tell that to the kids and they’ll laugh. Tempus fugit, indeed.

      May your hands always be busy
      May your feet always be swift
      May you have a strong foundation
      When the winds of changes shift
      May your heart always be joyful
      May your song always be sung
      May you stay forever young
      — Bob Dylan, Forever Young

      Printing out a wedding photo, the clerk commented that I look the same as when the picture was taken. Looks are deceiving, I laughed. Health is its own time machine, and for the most part we’ve been blessed with good health, coaxed by fitness and nutrition and good-enough genes. We know that time always wins, no matter what time machine we fly about in. A joyful life softens the landing, but we’ll land one day like all who have come before us.

      Maybe time running out is a gift
      I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
      And give you every second I can find
      And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind
      — Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit, If We Were Vampires

      We learn not to worry about what we cannot control. To always be worrying is to forsake joy for uncertainty. The only certainty is this moment together, so make it count in quiet gestures and unspoken ways. Joy is rooted in love: love of life, love for another, love of the moments built one upon the other for as long as this ride may continue. Nothing lasts forever—we know this all too well. But enjoying each something for all it offers is a path to a fully-valued, joyful life.

    • As and Always

      As now can’t reveal the mystery of tomorrow
      But in passing will grow older every day
      Just as all that’s born is new
      You know what I say is true
      That I’ll be loving you always
      — Stevie Wonder, As

      I’m feeling older today with yesterday’s passing. Sore all over, mentally tired, wondering why I didn’t hire someone to put new shingles on the shed. I know the answer: Because I can do it myself. And so I pay the price and won’t complain.

      For me, As is Stevie Wonder at his creative peak. It’s been a long time since I listed favorite songs from any artist. I won’t be doing it today. I’ll simply recognize the sparkle in this gem. It was part of the soundtrack played on repeat yesterday that carried me through the challenging stages. Music lifts us in such moments.

      The thing about roofing that shed is I know if I do it right I will never do it again. In 20 or 30 years, I will not be climbing up a ladder with a handful of shingles. Like planting a tree, it’s a gift to a future I may not see. We should move through every day as if we are leaving a gift for our children’s grandchildren. For we will not always be here, but we may offer something to always.

    • October Skies

      Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance
      With the stars up above in your eyes
      A fantabulous night to make romance
      ‘Neath the cover of October skies
      And all the leaves on the trees are fallin’
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      And I’m trying to please to the callin’
      Of your heart strings that play soft and low
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      The October sky in New England is a wonderful thing. Sunrises and sunsets are full of color that somehow match the foliage as it peaks. There is a crescendo when all of the colors are most vibrant and then it all seems to fade away. And so we ought to put ourselves in the way of beauty, just as Cheryl Strayed’s mother suggested. We are either there for it or we aren’t.

      It all goes so quickly. Autumn foliage sprinkles us with magic and all too soon fades and returns to the earth. Blink and we miss it. The lesson is to get out and see what we can while the opportunity presents itself. And we know that the lesson applies well beyond leaves.

      Tempus fugit. Time flies. Dare to use our time, or risk losing it. Every day may be a love affair with life. As with any love, life will only offer to us what we put into it. It’s up to us to notice the details. We may choose to play an active role in the chores that make each day meaningful and productive. We may dare to ask ourselves in those moments of hopeful scheming, how may we extend this magic just a little longer?

    • Fear (The Little Death)

      “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” — Frank Herbert, Dune

      Fear seems to be popping up a lot in my world lately. Not because I’m afraid so much as the idea of it comes up all the time. We know that once we notice something we see it everywhere. Well, fear was noticed, and here we are.

      What are we afraid of anyway? Death? Memento mori. Whether we’re afraid or not, we will all die anyway. Failure? Life is one failure after another. But it’s also one success after another. Need an example? We all woke up today. Call it a win.

      The thing is, most fear that holds us back from doing something is a dream dying on the vine. String enough dead dreams together and we’ve wasted our lives. Ignore enough fears and maybe we reach summits we’d hardly dare to dream of they seemed so audacious.

      We’re wounded by fear
      Injured in doubt
      I can lose myself
      You I can’t live without
      — U2, Red Hill Mining Town

      What is so important to us that we feel the fear and do it anyway? What is worthy of our courage now? What are we waiting for? We know deep down that tomorrow is too late. Socrates told us that we must seize what flees. Tempus fugit: Time flies. And the opportunities of a lifetime fly with it.

    • Kingdoms Fall

      October and the trees are stripped bare
      Of all they wear
      What do I care?
      October and kingdoms rise
      And kingdoms fall
      But you go on
      And on
      — U2, October

      Inevitably, I encounter simmering rage when I listen long enough. That’s America now—rage in one form or another. It’s everywhere. Yes, common at the extremes on both sides, but creeping more and more into the middle. An even keel is hard to maintain in a tumultuous sea. We are in the midst of a storm brought on by profiteers and pirates. Bastards.

      If I sound distant from the rage myself, well, it’s a deliberate act to remove myself from the storm. Maybe there are no safe harbors in a storm like this, but we ought to find places of refuge to take stock of where we are, what we stand for, who we want to be and what we want to be remembered as one day when all of this is being cleaned up and analyzed by future generations. Those of us who reside in the middle keep this ship from capsizing. We choose whether the scales will be forever tipped.

      It’s October. Peak foliage days before it all falls away and all that we are left with are memories of what was and what might have been if we’d only paid more attention. Seasons come and go. All that will be left of us one day is what we choose to leave behind.

    • The Schooner Ardelle on a Celtic Sunset Cruise

      These summer clouds she sets for sail,
      The sun is her masthead light,
      She tows the moon like a pinnace frail
      Where her phosphor wake churns bright.
      Now hid, now looming clear,
      On the face of the dangerous blue
      The star fleets tack and wheel and veer,
      But on, but on does the old earth steer
      As if her port she knew.
      — William Vaughn Moody, Gloucester Moors

      We know when we are in the midst of something extraordinary. Anticipation creeps up on us as the minutes pass by, awaiting our participation. Awareness floods in as the magic unfolds. Joy and gratitude edge in, provoking other emotions. There comes a time when we must simply put away the camera, stop searching for just the right word or phrase, and simply be a part of all that is happening around us.

      Gloucester, Massachusetts has a long history with the sea. Its famous harbor has long welcomed home fisherman and sailors from passages as far and wide as the ocean’s reach. One feels the history sailing in this harbor, and you play some small part in the play for having been here at all. The fleets of old are mostly all gone now, ghosts of what once was. But there are a few holdouts, and newcomers built in the traditional way, to offer some hint of what it was like long ago.

      Harold Burnham has built several schooners in the traditional fashion. For a couple of centuries the Burnham’s have built ships in Essex, Massachusetts. Two of his schooners are harbored in nearby Gloucester, and Harold himself captains sunset cruises. You simply have to put yourself in the way of beauty and sign up to participate. And if you’re especially fortunate, you may join on a night of Celtic music to offer a proper soundtrack for a September night when the clouds are just so to harness a bit of heavenly magic.

      Maritime Heritage Charters offers many opportunities to learn and experience a few hours on a schooner sailing in Gloucester Harbor. One not to miss is the Celtic Music Sunset Sail with Michael O’Leary & Friends cruise, when traditional music and song fill the heart and soul as you slip past history and witness the divine dance of fading light. The experience is one that will stay with you forever.

      The Schooner Ardelle, Gloucester, Massachusetts