I have several posts in progress that I will hopefully find time to complete after I take a couple of days to recover. In the mean time I have a couple of things I’ve been meaning to post – all to do with Courtney, oddly enough – but haven’t found the time to. So, in no particular order, here they are:

Every year the school Courtney goes to has a big deal around hitting the 100th day of school. I don’t know if that is common or not – it wasn’t when I was a kid – but it is the norm here, at least. As part of that whole event the kids were given assignments related to the number 100. One of those was to take 100 of anything and make something interesting/creative with them. Courtney decided that she was going to get 100 paperclips and link them together into a chain. Since that would be terribly boring and would require nearly zero effort I told her we should find something else to do. We ultimately ended up sticking with paperclips, but decided we would make a mobile. I thought it would be fun to do, more interesting than a chain and would have educational potential as well. This picture is what we ended up with. I obviously handled bending out the paperclips to act as decorations at the bottom of each chain but we worked together on the rest. We met the requirement of using 100 paperclips but, more importantly, we had a blast doing it. Before I get any criticism on my involvement, making this a parent/child project was encouraged.

And, speaking of Courtney’s school, we finally got to go in and meet her teacher for the gifted program. The program is amazing, and the teacher is awesome. She seemed to be one of those rare teachers who takes an intense interest in her kids. Well, to be fair, Courtney’s school has an abnormally high number of those – her school cluster is why we live where we do. The classroom was engaging and the curriculum… wow! I can see why they are so stringent on the entry requirements for the program. We discussed lots but I can summarize fairly neatly: We will need to come back in a couple of months to see the PowerPoint presentations each kid will have produced presenting the results of their research into some subject. As soon as they are done with that they will start algebra. This is first grade.

If I can take a moment to brag on her school a little more (as if the above isn’t enough), I discovered that her school grouping is one of the very few in the state who was given the ability to set curriculum independent of the state guidelines. They earned the right because of the consistently high test scores they had. The state superintendent of schools came to spend a couple of days there talking to teachers to try and figure out how they are doing it. And last night I learned that, starting next year, the highschool will have a program in place to have students participate in joint enrollment at Georgia Tech!! While that won’t matter to Courtney for another 8 to 10 years, it is still amazing. For those not familiar with GaTech, they are consistently ranked in the top 5 engineering schools nationally along with little schools like, oh, I dunno, MIT. The beat out other, better known schools like Carnegie-Mellon by a significant margin. It is truly one of those “pick your job” schools. In case you can’t tell, daddy is very pleased with the meeting, teacher and school.

And last, but certainly not least, Courtney celebrated her seventh birthday a few weeks ago. We had eight six and seven year old girls spend the night. It was…interesting. If you are ever in a similar situation, let me share this one bit of advice: You don’t want to be too close to the girls when a Hannah Montana song comes on on Disney radio. Trust me. I’ll just be glad when I get my hearing back. Anyhow, here are a few pictures of the ‘big event.’

Until next time; peace.
/g

While waiting on the rest of the girls to arrive they sat in a circle on the floor and gossiped. How early it starts!

Them congregating on the stairs (I didn’t put them there or pose them) for some reason. I just realized looking at these that I never got all of the girls in a single shot. It was truly like herding cats.

A “Fur Real” turned out to be her favorite present.

Her opening presents with Emma’s help

…and opening…

…and opening.

ohmgosh!

She dug her new PJs.

The beginning of a teddybear relay. They had to run to the next room, put one article of clothing on the bear and bring the bear back to the next on their team. First team to get the bear fully outfitted, wins. This was one of the several activities to make them think they were having fun while, in fact, wearing them out. -muh-ha-ha-ha-

I’ve been going to a digital photography competition site called dpchallenge for several years (my profile is here). It is unlike any site I’ve ever been involved with in that it has the strongest sense of community of any virtual group I’ve seen. I’ve seen the group come together and collect donations to finance a cross country trip for a member whole adult daughter was in the hospital on the opposite coast. I’ve seen them start an impromptu contest with an entry fee (there normally is none) with all the proceeds going to replace a camera that had been stolen from one of the members. I’ve seen members pool frequent flier miles to get a mother who was in bad financial shape to her daughter’s wedding. There have been many other similar instances. In every case more funds were raised than was needed. It is just that tight of a group.

Life has been busy for the last several months so I’ve not been on there much before last night, so it was with much sadness that I learned one of the members had died unexpectedly. His name was Sean Matos and he went by JawnyRico on the site. He was an amazing photographer but, more importantly, a great guy. I was caught by an unexpected wave of emotion on reading that he’d died. It was made worse by the fact that he was only 27.

I’m not sure why it affected me as strongly it did because I didn’t know him personally. I really only knew about him from discussion threads in which he has participated and photos he has entered in various contests but I had seen enough to know that he was a good guy and was well liked. So I went on to read the thread discussing his passing. The outpouring of grief from people who had never met him in person was touching and was frankly getting to me when a post stopped me cold. His wife, who wasn’t involved in the site, logged into his account and posted to the thread. Even in her obvious grief she’d taken the time to come there to thank everyone for their support and condolences. It was touching beyond words. Here is her post:

This is Melissa, Sean’s wife. Wow. I am so amazed to see what all of you thought of his beautiful photographs. I always knew how talented and special Sean was, and how his gifts could touch people’s lives. It truly takes my breath away to see how much he meant to so many of you. The latest challenge “The Cowboy” being in honor of my husband, means so much to me. He loved photography. It was such a passion of his. We spent hours together working on these photos and traveling to different places to take them. I will miss that. Thank you so much for all your love and support through this time. It is a huge loss in my life. The love of my life, and my forever best friend is no longer here. I pray that I get through this with the support of my family here and the wonderful support from all of you. Thank you so much for helping Sean and honoring him now.

I love you all!!

I went from choked up to tearful then I read on. As the thread unfolded the site admins made his profile a permanent page as a memorial and his wife returned to say that she was taking up photography as her way of staying connected with her late husband. She created her own profile and for a user name chose “Luvagirl”, a nickname her husband had given her back when they were just dating which was evidently when they were 15 or 16. I’m can’t find the words to express how moved I was. I then went to his profile page to look at some of his work. I’d always liked his stuff but hadn’t really looked at it as a single body of work before. Before I ever got to the photos I made the mistake of reading his profile. In part it read:

Love two things, my wife Melissa, and photography. Found this site and it rocks with all the talent, info, learning, and incredible photographers of all types. Hope to learn lots with editing and improving my people shots. Always remember to never take life to seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway. Thanks for stopping by, and we hope you shop with us again soon.

Signature – Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky and I thought to myself, where the heck is the ceiling.

How prophetic and how terribly sad. I was far from together after reading all of that but then I noticed the user status on the profile. Every profile shows the same line but I never thought much about it until this time. It read:

Status: User is currently offline

I don’t ever recall something so innocuous eliciting the emotional reaction that single line did. It connected with me somewhere deep within and left me completely wrung out. I feel more like I’ve lost a family member than someone I knew of online. And I keep thinking that, but by the grace of God that could be me. As I sit here in need of a tissue I find that I cannot fathom what his wife must have had to endure. My heart goes out to her. I’ve included a few of his pictures below as my own little tribute to him but it hardly seems enough. Perhaps the bigger tribute is in taking his advice: never take life to seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway.

/g

Click on the images to see the originals complete with his commentary.

The title of this shot is “Forever Best Friends”. The same term his wife used to describe their relationship. How poignant.

While this particular incident set a new low (though not by much) it was hardly an isolated case. If only it were. A couple of years ago while driving down I-185 in Columbus, GA I noticed a car up ahead on the right shoulder with someone standing behind it. As I got closer I saw that it was a grandma-mobile, complete with grandma standing behind it. With the trunk open. And all her groceries out on the ground. And grandma trying feverishly to get the tire out of the well in the trunk. Unfortunately it outweighed her so she didn’t seem to be making much headway. Oh, did I mention it was June?

You don’t have to be Matlock to deduce a few things about this scene. Grandma had gotten a flat tire and pulled over and she had been there long enough to unload a considerable load of groceries, remove the jack and attempt to get the tire out, several times from the looks of her. So she’d been standing there in near 100° heat with humidity hovering around 95% (welcome to summer in the South) while many hundreds, or perhaps thousands of cars passed her by. And when I say grandma, I mean really, obviously, very much a grandma. She was perhaps seventy and all of 4’8″. Very threatening, lemme tell ya.

Traffic was anything but light and I was four lanes away (in the fast lane, big surprise) so I was unable to safely get over and stop to help her. Having noticed the conspicuous shortage of help, I went to the next exit about a mile up, doubled back and drove the five miles back to the previous exit and circled back to find her still standing there, still trying unsuccessfully to get the tire out of the car. All of that took me more than ten minutes and she was still there alone. I suspect it took me longer to get back to help her than it did to change the tire and have her on her way, melted ice cream and all. And when I initially approached her she offered to pay me to change the tire for her. Pay me. Really. There was no possible way I would’ve accepted her money. Even if I had been so inclined to I’m pretty sure my grandma Mead, rest her soul, would be waiting for me in heaven to grab me by my ear and give me a long talkin’ to, complete with disappointed look. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to experience that.

Then there was the lady and her six year old that Christy and I stopped to pick up. They had already gotten over a half mile down a busy highway from their broken down car without anyone stopping. And the time that Christy’s car died in the road at a busy intersection with a then 3 year old Courtney in the car. I was out of town and AAA takes forever to respond in this area so there she sat, half in the road, for over an hour before someone stopped to at least help her push the car completely clear of the traffic lane. That good soul was an elderly gentleman on his way home from his dialysis treatment.

And on and on it goes. I guess I really shouldn’t be shocked. I’m suppose this is not a new problem. You only have to look as far as the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke to know that there have always been those happy to pass by on the other side of the road from someone in need.  Even so, I still can’t get past incidents like these. I mean, don’t we all have grandmothers? Can’t we all imagine it might be us in that overturned truck one day? Can’t we all recognize that it could just as easily be our wife and child? Very, very few things in life truly, completely elude my understanding, but I’m afraid this does.

And I’m not relating these stories to cast myself as some wonderful person. That would be a little like bragging about not beating up the weak kid or not robbing a bank. What I did in both cases cost me nothing but a small amount of time and neither in neither case did I do anything that I would consider beyond the barest minimum of what passes for humanity. And, unless it was jerk’s only day on the interstate (kinda like ‘couples only’ or ‘backwards only’ skate at the skating rink) and I just missed the announcement, I’m reasonably sure that many people who otherwise pass for “good people” drove past that day. They must have. I can only suppose that each rationalized why they couldn’t stop. I really don’t know.

The good news in this case is that the guy in the truck had already climbed out with nothing more serious than the stray scrape or bruise and grandma suffered nothing beyond they previously mentioned loss of ice cream but either case could have ended much worse. I could understand someone not stopping to help, say, me. I’m a big guy who might be up to no good. But, c’mon, an eldely lady? A mother and child? Someone in an over-turned vehicle? And all in very busy public places. If someone can explain this to me, please do. As it stands now, I can only shake my head in dismay. The Good Book tells us that the Good Samaritan was a helpful neighbor to the man who had been robbed and enjoins us to “Go and do likewise.” Am I the only one that finds it a little depressing that we should even have to be told?

/g

So what triggered this unexpected outburst? I was watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade when one of the commentators commented that this (meaning the parade) was what Thanksgiving was all about. Now, I realize he didn’t mean that literally but for many of us it has become more about the parade and turkey than anything else.

As for what it is supposed to be about, well, duh. The answer is in the name: thanks giving. So with that out of the way, what are we giving thanks for and to whom? That, I think, is where some of us part company. Many believe and, in fact, most schools teach that thanksgiving originated with the Pilgrims as a celebration of the harvest to thank the Indians for teaching them domestic agriculture. While that makes for a nice, tidy story that conveniently skirts any mention of God, it simply isn’t true.

You only have to look as far as the whole purpose of the pilgrim’s journey to know what they were about. The part of the Mayflower compact that talks about the purpose of their very journey begins “Having undertaken for the Glory of God, and Advancement of the Christian Faith…” It was ultimately about the freedom to practice Christianity based on biblical principals and not the political ones laid down by the Church of England.

Their thanks giving feast was one of thanking God, not unlike the ancient Hebrew and, indeed, modern Jewish celebrations of Succoth and Passover. Their journey was a hard one and approximately half of them died that first winter. Think about that for a moment. You embark on a brutally difficult journey to a new land with a group of people and after months at sea you arrive, only to watch one out of every two of your companions die unpleasant deaths. And life didn’t grow significantly easier for them in the ensuing months either. And yet there they were, throwing a feast thanking God for what they have. Um, wow.

We’ve begun a tradition in my family where each day in November each of us writes down one thing we are thankful for and we review those on thanksgiving. While I think that is an important lesson for the kids (us too for that matter), I look now at the things on our lists as I consider how thankful they were for what little they had those many years ago and it is a bit embarrassing in contrast. It really highlights the indulgent lifestyle we have and just how much we have to be thankful for. The impoverished and homeless here have it far better than those at the top of the Pilgrim’s hierarchy.

Every day in America should be thanksgiving. So instead of gorging on turkey and watching the parade, shouldn’t we find a few minutes to thank God for all he has given us? Is saying grace at the table really sufficient? Look around you and consider then do whatever you feel is right. At least for me, the prayer over the meal doesn’t begin to cover it.

Well, I am off to the family again. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I sincerely hope each of you have a blessed Thanksgiving and may God continue to bless you and yours in the coming months.

/g

In answer, she pointed out that I might be painting a bigger than life portrait of myself for my friend. Over the past few months I’ve talked to Christy about many of the conversations C and I have had and I guess she had, without really thinking about it, been compiling a mental list. She started to tick off a list of the things she knew I’d talked about. In my many chats online I’ve mentioned to C that, among other things, I am: 6’7″, a pilot (who has crashed and walked away unscathed, no less), a scuba diver, a white water rafter, a caver, into martial arts, a security expert who speaks at conferences and whose job involves peripheral involvement with the FBI, a world traveler, a photographer and photography instructor, a God fearing, church going, loving husband and father who adores his wife, dotes on his kids and even cooks. I may, in fact, even be the world’s coolest dad since I went to great lengths to take my teenage daughter to a Coldplay concert and with amazing seats at that. And those are just the facts that sprang to mind immediately. I’m sure that, given a few minutes to think, I could double or triple the list.

It isn’t that I set out to portray myself in that light at all but I am an adventure junkie and, over the course of 40 years I’ve managed to do a number of interesting things. And, let’s be honest, those things are the ones that you tend to remember and, hence, talk about in the course of general conversation. All of those things are absolutely true but aggregately they paint an unrealistic picture. Especially when you factor in that some of them are strictly sporadic pursuits. I’ve only been in a few wild caves and only white water raft once or twice every couple of years. I haven’t been scuba diving in six years, and haven’t set foot in a dojo since I don’t know when. A very long time, to be sure. My crash wasn’t of the lawn dart like variety that springs to mind when one hears “plane crash.” Rather, it was a belly landing forced by a landing gear failure. Yes, it was a crash and yes, I did slide a couple thousand feet down a concrete runway with the metal belly of the plane acting as a poor substitute for wheels, and yes, it was both very exciting and terrifying and could have ended very differently, but it isn’t necessarily what it sounds like just the same.

Add to that the fact that people don’t tend to talk about their faults online. Heck, I don’t find many people eager to talk about them in real life either for that matter, and I’m no exception. But at least in real life you have the chance to observe them first hand and generally tend to pick up on the bad and good together over time. Rarely does the fact that you like kicking puppies pop up in the course of a normal conversation online. I’m not saying I like to kick puppies; I rather like puppies. I’m only trying to say that, if I did, it isn’t the sort of thing I’m likely to mention. If you were with me in person you would at least have a chance of seeing me do it. That’s all I’m sayin’.

Take the case of this particular friend. C has no way of knowing how I tend to leave stuff laying around and how, many times, I take an awfully long time to finish a project around the house and how completely nuts both of those things make my wife. She doesn’t see me on those days when work was rotten, bringing me home in a less than good mood and I am less involved or more terse with the kids that I otherwise would and should be. She doesn’t get to see the times when, in a disagreement, I respond to Christy sarcastically rather than maturely. She has no way of knowing that I am terminally afraid of doing things I am not good at, especially in front of other people. She doesn’t get the chance to see any of those oh so very fallible moments in my life that my other friends do.

She has no way of knowing that her dedication and devotion to her walk with God makes me feel more than a little ashamed of the level of dedication I’ve exhibited lately. She has no clue of the regrets I have over the missed opportunities to step up and be a truly good father or husband; those times when I was too busy or too tired or too self absorbed to pay the attention that I should have.

This only goes to reinforce the point I made in my very first post on this blog that in most cases you don’t really know the people you meet online. You see what they allow you to see and no more. It is a bit like a product demo. You only see the features of a product that the person demonstrating it chooses to show you, and they are only going to show the very best features. You don’t learn about the bugs and deficiencies that would drive you nuts unless you actually buy the product. Though in that original post I had intentional deception more in mind and, though this is nothing of the sort, the same supposition holds true to some degree.

Given enough time most people can discern character beyond what is overtly presented and I think C is certainly smart enough and a good enough read of people to at least suspect that I am not actually perfect. Yeah, I’m afraid its true. And, to be fair, I have told her things about me that aren’t part of an idealized tale of my life. I’ve told her some things about my first marriage and how badly it ended and I’ve talked a bit about my misspent youth. I’ve shared stray facts like that, but almost certainly less than I should have. When you get down to it I don’t know how well she truly knows the real me so, how can I expect her to have any idea. And that probably cuts both ways.

She and I have had a number of conversations around what constitutes true friendship and rather we qualify. We’ve discussed rather or not the time we’ve spent chatting is all wasted effort, running toward a dead end. My personal take is that it isn’t. I’ve mentally stopped making the distinction between her and ‘real life’ friends, rather the difference is on-line as opposed to off-line. Both are real life for me. I’m not sure what exactly comprises friendship because it isn’t something I decide intellectually or consciously, but I feel like I have found it in this instance. But, then, I have always been exceptionally good at reading people. I’ve met very, very few people that I didn’t have a distinct opinion of in the first five minutes of conversation and there have only been a couple of people ever to prove that initial opinion wrong. I’ve learned to trust my gut. How and why C arrives at a conclusion will only be revealed with time and even then, perhaps not to me. Either way, I consider her a friend, lack of details and all.

In the few days since I started writing this post I heard a quote about friendship that I especially liked. But more than that it amused me when I thought about it in the context of this post. The quote was “True friends are like angels; you don’t have to see them to know they are there.” I can’t help but wonder if that extends to those friends you’ve never actually seen at all. I mean, I’ve never seen my angels either. At least, not that I know of.

So I’m left to sit here and ponder the imponderable and will probably never get any closer to a conclusion than I am right now. Given that I have no choice in the matter I guess that I will just have to live with it. In the mean time, I’ll make an effort to share more of the real me, not just with C but with my off-line friends as well. In short, I will find a hanger and an open spot in my closet for the outfit with the cape. I think in the end it will work out better that way, and I suspect that I will feel better either way. Not being able to fly anymore is gonna take some getting used to, though. C’est la vie.

/g

I got to play water taxi to the kids for a stroll into the deep end. Since Justin tried to drown himself in my sister’s pool last year he has been a little freaked out and clingy around the water but today was digging it. Hopefully we are past that.

For the second time today Justin decided he wanted to take off and swim on his on. Far be it from me to interfere. In fact, I felt obligated to provide a little motivation by chasing them.

After swimming and a brief rest we went over to the great grandparent’s house to visit. Courtney spanked me at Chutes and Ladders. Stupid long slide….

Around 5:30 a professional swing/ragtime band set up by the community pool that is directly out the back door and started playing. This was shot standing in the back door. We opened up all the windows on the sunroom in the back and got a free concert. I have video too that I’ll put up later.

While they were playing we had to suffer through this sunset…

…while the house was filled with the aroma of this cooking. I made a 7 layer lasagna that was criminally good. It will be even better tomorrow and the day after. yay! This shot is scratch-and-sniff. Give it a go.

My mother-in-law suggested I it would be more honest to post the wider version of that shot. I sorta trashed her kitchen in the process of making it. Luckily she really, really likes my lasagna and all was forgiven. After I cleaned it up, of course…

On a scale of 1 to 10 today would be somewhere around an 11, I guess. I think I’m just gonna skip the rest of the week. It could only be down hill from here.

/g

Over the years I’ve traveled extensively for work and, like most business travel, it has been a largely solo activity. It has taken me to virtually every spot in the continental US big enough to warrant a Walmart and most of the larger cities many many times as well as to places off continent from Bermuda to Helsinki, Finland and many points between. Initially all the travel was a heady, exciting adventure. In fact, it still excites me on some level, just not like it once did. The whole truth, though, is that it can also be a very lonely existence and not just because I’m alone. Visiting cool new places or experiencing fun new things without someone to share it with is somehow inherently sad for me. I know there are people it doesn’t bother but I am a social creature and crave sharing the experience as much as or more than the experience itself. No matter how wonderful the place or activity I always find myself wishing for the company of a friend.

One of my favorite places in the world is San Francisco and within the San Francisco Bay area my favorite place is the Marin Headlands north of the Golden Gate Bridge. More specifically, the portions overlooking the bridge and, more specifically yet, at night. For me, at least, it is a magical place at night and, if you go late enough you can find spots in which you can be completely alone. Year round it is a little cool and there is almost always a strong breeze tousling your hair. You are nearly as high as the towers on the bridge and looking out through the cable suspension at the entire vista of the San Francisco skyline beyond. The blackness of the Pacific Ocean is felt more than seen as a palpable void to your right. You can’t help but feel the vast emptiness that stretches thousands of miles beyond the horizon. Something about that emptiness combined with the close yet seemingly unreachable companionship of the city gives me a sense of unparalleled solitude and the sheer scale of the entire scene serves as a powerful reminder of just how insignificant I really am.

But the thing is, that solitude extends only as far as earthly company is concerned. For me, at least, that separation from the rest of the world reminds me of how little all of the ‘stuff’ really matters and helps me gain perspective on what really does matter. Put another way, if you can’t hear God’s voice there you need to work on your listening skills. I’ve not found another place anywhere on the planet where I feel as at completely alone and completely not at the same time.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have sat up there alone just looking out over the bridge and the city beyond while the hours rolled past unnoticed. I’ve found myself still sitting there as the sun broke over the Eastern horizon a few times, but I try to be packed up and gone by then as a rule. Something about leaving while it is still dark lets you carry a little of that wonderment away with you in a way you couldn’t by the light of day.

As amazing as that place is and as much as I want (or perhaps need) to be alone there, I still long to share the experience. In the time Christy and I have been together I’ve been there dozens of times without her but not once without wishing she were there beside me. Not once have I left there without a measure of sadness that I couldn’t share the experience with someone I love. The same is true rather I’ve been wandering the streets of Paris or walking a cornfield in Iowa. No matter how fun or amazing the experience, a part of me is left wanting for someone to share it with and saddened that I can’t carry that experience back to those I love.

As an avid photographer I carry my trusty Nikon with me as surrogate companionship. While being able to spend all the time I like trying to get a shot or sitting in one place for an hour waiting for the light to get just right is very nice, it really is a poor substitute for having someone to talk to. And, while I may have excellent shots of the trip years later, they are a poor substitute for being able to sit with someone and say ‘remember when’.

So I find myself wondering what do do now. Christy really isn’t into the whole skiing thing so this would be the perfect time to try it out, but there is just something depressing me about the thought of going it alone. The date for this trip hasn’t been settled so I have some time to decide, but I don’t know if I’ll be better able to decide later than I am now. Oh, well. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

/g

OK, they’ve done it. They’ve finally done it. They have made me write my first crotchety old man post. I was listening to the radio yesterday and heard a song called “Addicted” by the band Saving Abel. I’d heard it before but hadn’t actually listened to the lyrics. Now, let me start out by saying that I am not a prude or even close to it. I may not like the state of what passes for morality these days, but I know the score. I really don’t offend easily but when I actually listened to that song I realized that the lyrics are grossly inappropriate for radio. Well, they’re inappropriate in any context if I’m being completely honest, but even more so on a mainstream radio station. So you know what I am talking about here are the first several lines from the song:

I'm so addicted to
All the things you do
When you're going down on me
In between the sheets
Or the sound you make
With every breath you take
It's unlike anything
When you're loving me

Oh girl lets take it slow
So as for you,
Well you know where to go
I want to take my love
And hate you til the end

I won’t even bother to dissect that little bit of prose. If you need it explained, you really shouldn’t be reading this to begin with. I’m not naïve and I know that there have been lyrics that bad and worse for many years but it used to be that those were only heard by those who bought the album, not on the radio. I grew up when songs like “Pour Some Sugar on Me” got tons of airplay. Rather or not that was also inappropriate is a whole other discussion but at least, at least the overt sexual references were made metaphorically. These lyrics are not just explicit, they are crass.

What ever happened to radio versions of songs? Well, I guess that concept still exists somewhat because on the same station I’ve heard sanitized versions of other songs where drug references are omitted, if just barely. Why that and not this? While I’m on the subject I have another ax to grind. Why is it where ever the term “God damn” is used they bleep “God” and not “damn”? I mean, really. Can someone please explain the thought process that led to that practice? I guess they think we find God more offensive than expletives. By they I mean the brain dead morons at the broadcasting companies, of course. Which would you rather have your child ask:”What does God mean?” or “What does damn mean?” I sincerely hope they wouldn’t have to ask the former, but you get my point. And I know there will be someone who reads this and thinks that I’m overreacting. I would just ask that if that’s you, please email me your phone number. That way, if my kids do somehow hear that song I can call and let you explain it to my six year old when she asks me “Daddy, what does ‘going down on’ mean?” On second thought, nevermind. I’ll field that one, you just stay clear of my kids. Thanks.

You see, I used to listen to the radio in my car when the kids were along. Then it got where the subject matter in the morning and afternoon talk shows were bad enough I couldn’t listen to them with children present. I usually wouldn’t even when alone for that matter. But at least we could listen to the radio the rest of the day when they are actually playing music. We can’t even do that anymore. You just never know what is going to come out of the speakers.

The frustrating thing is that it need not be that way. Equally popular is the song “1,2,3,4″ by Plain White T’s that could’ve been ripped straight from out of the 50′s. Here is the first little bit of that song’s lyrics:

Give me more loving than I’ve ever had
Make me feel better when I’m feeling sad
Tell me I’m special even when I know I’m not
Make it feel good when it hurts so bad
Barely get mad
I’m so glad I found you
I love being around you
You make it easy

It's as easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4
There’s only one thing two do
three words four you...
(I love you) I love you
There’s only one way two say
Those three words
And that’s what I’ll do...
(I love you) I love you

See? Isn’t that nice? OK, so that may be the other extreme, but I’m OK with that. You know, I’m not one of those people who think that any and all sexual references in songs are inappropriate. I’m really not. I think music, or at least good music, is not just listened to, it is experienced. Listening to music that finds you where you are can be a visceral experience. That music both expresses and invokes strong emotion. Given that the most intense human emotions revolve around love, including physical expression of it, I would find it odd it the topic didn’t come up fairly often in music.

Look, I’m not picking on Saving Abel here. The thing that annoys me most, in fact, is how much I liked the song before I stopped and listened to it. And now I can’t. Not all of their music is objectionable and they are far from the only ones out there today spewing garbage onto our airwaves. All I’m asking is this: Keep it tasteful. It doesn’t have to be explicit and it certainly doesn’t need to be crude. If it is, let those who want to buy it listen to it. I don’t need that much detail about you via public broadcast. I think the term is T.M.I. That’s all I’m sayin’. Now, if you’ll excuse me while I go put my soap box back in the closet. In the mean time, thanks for listening.

/g