Silly Saturday

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love to nom your branches.
Your ornaments make lovely sounds
When I knock them to the ground!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love to nom your branches.

Oh, I Believe In Yesterday, Too, Sir Paul!

Honestly, this was a few days ago, but the joke and the memory will warm my insides for a while.

August 5, Sir Paul McCartney was in my beloved home town. He ate at a restaurant in Bricktown that I (cannot afford) have not tried, and he stayed the night in an historic hotel that I (may never have the pleasure of seeing at all) have only seen in pictures.

We have a local free paper called Oklahoma Gazette. They have a section of odd, political, humorous, or just plain crazy news that happens in or to Oklahoma, called Chicken Fried News. In CFN, they titled this bit "Live and Let Dine". Aren't they clever? While I think they made much ado about nothing, they were not alone. By 4 pm, the local talk radio station I chat over... er... listen to, was bragging about it at every news break. Every ten minutes, I hit the mute button for a few moments. Unfortunately for KTOK, they stayed mute most of the afternoon.

Rumor has it that Sir Paul ate quiche, special ordered from a list in his head that was not on the menu. I suppose when you make enough money to own Bricktown, you can order whatever you wish, no matter what the menu offers. Our chat group discussed this for a few moments. Most of us, while wondering if he would be willing to stand on the top of the shortest building in the area and play a few songs and sign a few autographs, were asking the obvious questions. Was he a jerk or a nice guy? How long would he stay? Why was he in town? How much did he tip the waiter? Important things, wouldn't you agree?

Rumor also has it that the tip will cover said waiter's household expenses for a significant amount of time. I bet he got more for NOT being a stupid crazed fan in front of the new girlfriend. I would certainly expect no less.

I have never been the screaming teen type of starstruck fan. Ask Wes McKenzie. I offered him a Dr. Pepper when a bunch of us were watching a movie one night, and he was slaving away in the radio station on campus at O.C. I bet without my hubby nearby, he doesn't even know who I am. (Ferret and I tried to hide in his apartment once during a tornado, because he was downstairs, and her apartment was upstairs. He may remember that...) But I know that he once sang bass with AVB. My only wish when I came to O.C. was to sit in chapel someday with Rodney Britt on one side of me, and Wes McKenzie on the other, and let the two greatest bass singers I have ever met rattle me out of my chair. I like sitting next to DH in church, because he sings bass too. Bro is a good singer, and he and DH have flanked me, and we had Mac Daddy sitting behind us. Mac Daddy has more projection than DH has, but they both can sing equally low, deep and rattling.

I have always figured that celebrities are people. They just want to be talked to, respected and treated with the dignity us poor folk should give any peasant or king. I don't like to be screamed at, why should they like it? I said on August 5 that I would have expected a big tip from Sir Paul, had I been that wait person. The standard 15-20% plus a little somethin'-somethin' for not being a crazy weird autograph hound.

I have met a few celebs in my short life. You may or may not have heard of Sandy Fries. Yes, it is spelled like French Fries, but pronounced Freeze. Any guesses as to whom he is? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? He is a writer, and he wrote one whole episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation for Will Wheaton. It was called Coming of Age, and it first aired in March of 1988, which makes it now 20 years ago. One of the Directors or Creators came to him and said something short and simple like... "Wesley Crusher is going to Starfleet Academy. Go." What a bundle of inspiration! I met him and got his autograph when he came to Farmington, NM to speak at San Juan College about Creative Writing, back in my early college days in the early 90's.

I have an autographed picture of Mark Lowry. I spoke to him personally, and we shared a laugh. I was working at Glory Be! Christian Books and Gifts in Farmington, and he came to do a concert. My friend Kim P. and I both went. I had met her working for the Hallmark store in the mall, and we became fast friends as sisters in Christ. This was his Mouth In Motion tour, and he sang "Mary Did You Know". He wrote the lyrics! If you ever hear Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd sing this one, it will make chills run up and down your spine. Seriously. Stirring and thoughtful song. His opening act was a little girl who had such a powerful voice. Her stage name was JoAnna Rae, and she had the vocal power of Whitney Houston, and the range (that young voice) of Mariah Carey. She was about 9 years old at the time, and so tiny. Mr. Lowry was blown away, as were most of the audience.

I met also at a concert in Farmington, the singer (Insert Memory Card here...). {Edit: Found it! The memory engram was found, and now has been uploaded. His name was Grover Levy.} He was signing CD's well into the night. The package came with a music CD and a DVD Rom of extras. I told him that the second disc did me no good, as I didn't have a computer. He said, "That's OK, I don't either!" He was a teacher, and used some of his students in his songs. He was the most friendly of that concert. Margaret Becker was rude to my brother that day. He had worked his tush off carrying her equipment into the Civic Center, and had helped her crew set it up and later helped to tear it down. The least she could have done was smile, say thanks, and not be offended when someone asked for an autograph. She didn't even stay after the show like the two other acts did, so I never met her. I suppose I didn't miss much.

I once rode on the same plane as John Denver. From Houston to Denver. He was in First Class, and probably in the first seat. I was in the VERY STINKING BACK SEAT of the plane, next to the Flight Attendants' kitchen. I thought I saw him, but was not convinced. Could it have been? Naw. Why would he fly commercial? He has a pilot's license. Well, it WAS John Denver, and he had not died yet while flying his own plane. Such a close brush with greatness. He was my favorite singer, back in the early 80's when he was still being shown in reruns of the Muppet Show, and was still appearing regularly on Sesame Street. The nice attendant and several other passengers were trying to think of his songs, and I came up with more by myself than they did combined. I wasn't really a fan at that time, so that rather surprised me.

Farmington is so out of the way, and kinda small, but it has its share of celebrity rolling through town. I got to see Mr. Former Vice President Dan Quayle while he was campaigning. I was too far past the ropes, and people were getting arrested for trying to do anything more than shake the man's hand. I got pictures from a random lady in the crowd. She got a little closer than me, and offered to take my camera with her. We swapped addresses, and mailed each other copies of our photographs.

DH and I, along with a few friends, saw Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band in concert at Frontier City a few years ago. There were a few people smoking weed a few rows ahead of us, and I came away from there with such a headache! It was my first time to get high. My first, last, ONLY time to get high. That headache didn't go away for almost two days. I don't know why people pay for that feeling. Ugh. Terrible. DH is a HUGE Beatles fan, and Ringo is his favorite. I personally liked Paul best, not only because he is the cute one, but for his long and lifetime marriage to Linda, his work with Wings (also a wife project), and his eagerness to join forces with others for the benefit of a charity.

On August 6, DH and I built a spur-of-the-moment parody of Yesterday. He started by just singing that one word, the most popular word of Paul's most memorable song. Even people who don't really like the Beatles know about the story of Sir Paul singing "Scrambled Eggs". Even if that was not true, we choose to believe the legend, because it makes us feel better. I added something about how he was in town presumably for the funeral of Mr. Murcer (some sports legend I don't know about) because his "friend passed away" and "he didn't eat at Hideaway", which is a local pizza joint that is pretty good... I don't remember it all now, but it was enough to make us laugh. My simple mind at work... you are all so very much in trouble.

Which brings us full circle to last week... and the fact that my obsessed hubby did not know until later that a beloved Beatle was nearby. I am not sure what gizmo or doodad was off, but something was wrong with my world for several moments. I only hope that the fine City of Oklahoma City did not show her petticoats of hick redneck starstruck idiots, but was a lady showing all the refinement she could. I pray that Sir Paul had a fine time here, and was given an extra huge helping of the classical Hospitality this state is known for.

Turn With Me, If You Will, To Page Five Hundred Sixty-Five

Word of the Post
Today's word is: quicken
/quick"en/ verb
To come to life; to make alive, resuscitate; to stimulate or revive; to show signs of life; to move, as in a fetus in the womb. I remember a song in church about being "quickened from the dead", referring to Jesus. I also was influenced by the "quickening", which seemed to be the transference of life-force from one Immortal to another in the Highlander movies and series. There can be only one, after all.
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I am my Father's child. It drives me nuts when someone asks me to turn to the Page, instead of what they really mean: the Number. The songs are often placed more than one to a page, so a book with 900 songs can have a mere 750 pages. Yep, I am that crotchety old woman who insists that the English language be used correctly. How sad for me. One of the guys who leads singing sometimes says "Notice with me number..." That is cute. Different than anyone else, and probably more accurate.

Music is a strong signal of memory. For me it is second only to smell, and the two are very close. A tune can bring me back to a time in my childhood long forgotten. In our songbook at church, called "Praise for the LORD", there is a song that I have known pretty much all my life. The title is listed "Savior, Thy Dying Love", and is also more commonly known (in previous editions of the books?) by the title "Something For Thee".

Those of you who have not grown up knowing this piece from church would probably recognize the music if I could play it for you. Elvis Presley used a very similar tune for his hit, Love Me Tender. Now I know that I probably heard Elvis use this tune first, which is really funny to me. The tune was written in 1871, and the song lyrics we use in church were written in 1862. I know Elvis isn't near that old. He's 72, living out his life in some rural part of the country. Just makes it hard to concentrate on church services, when you have Elvis running around in your mind, singing Love Me Tender, and Blue Suede Shoes.

Mom is an Elvis fan. DH is a Beatles fan. I have found that people who like the music from the decade of the 60's are fans of either one or the other. It is very rare to find anyone who likes both equally. It becomes almost an argument about serving two masters... fans often love one, and despise the other.

I don't know why that really struck me today, it just did. Many times I find myself thinking farther back than music in my memory. A simple thumbtack, and I am thinking of watching my friend jump up off the staircase we were sitting on to talk, because she sat on one. I was about 5. Which leads me to think of the Vacation Bible School song about the Devil sitting on a tack if he didn't like us praising Jesus. (OUCH!) A cheap kid's perfume reminds me of the Christmas my cousin and I got matching presents. I can still see the perfumed spongy dabber, the silly comb that was shaped like a fudge Popsicle, and the matching dolls in different colored dresses. I don't remember liking that year, because we both wanted trucks, (neither of us was a girlie girl, we were both very tomboy at the time) and we didn't like the colors we were given. I think we even tried to switch before the day was over. We talked about it years later, and decided that the parents didn't want us feeling jealous of each other, but we felt we both lost out on the specialness of thought toward our gifts.

There is a group of people at church who are learning new songs written by a man who lives in St. Petersburg. He has written whole symphonies to God in Russian, and many of the songs he has allowed to be translated into English. He visited here about a year ago, and he had a group of his music students with him, to sing for us. His music is phenomenal. There are not words to describe it, truly, until you hear it. He spoke in Chapel at Oklahoma Christian, and said (in complete honesty, and with all frustration) that when our groups went to his school in Russia, that it was neat to have us there, but our music was terrible. Knowing the Contemporary Christian stuff they are promoting these days, I would agree with him. I sing whatever I don't hear, so I am learning these in Soprano for now. I will move to Alto (more my comfort zone) when we get more Sopranos learning, or we get the whole congregation singing them correctly. I really love being in a group again. I would even be willing to perform, given the right situation.

On a totally unrelated topic, I never had indoor pets as a kid. Mom was allergic to the cats I wanted. We always had outdoor cats, because mom would let us feed them dry food sometimes, and of course, they would just stick around for the free lunch. I feel lucky to have indoor cats now, I love having something to purr next to me when I am feeling lonely, or to make me laugh when I am feeling depressed.

The rescue, Marvel, is my sweet boy. He is very happy with his schedule (not pronounced with the K sound in it, but like shed-ule, imagining Rush Limbaugh and his fake British accent) around here. Eat, drink water dripping from the bathroom faucets, run like mad all over the place, beat up the sister, and nap. (Lather, rinse, repeat.) He is always so clean and soft, it is amazing. Here he is being a 12-pack of Dublin Dr. Pepper cans.
Little Girl, Mystic, is just the cutie pie, who makes you want to pick her up. Which she doesn't like, so she squirms to be released. She does a push-twist-stretch that would be perfect for Cirque du Soleil. We fondly call her "Princess Touch-Me-Not". She is very good at knowing just how far away she can step, so that you can no longer reach her, then turning and looking at you. It is as if she is challenging you to try it again. This is Mystic, from the comfort of being in my way.
This is their mutual favorite spot, on top of the thing I am looking for or the thing I am using. This bag is permanently their property, so I guess I can't ever throw it away. Not that I want to, it is a good bag.

Look for your memory triggers. Is it music, smells in a kitchen, or the sounds of traffic rushing by? Is it something that you do the same way as someone taught you? Is it the thing that you once said you would Never do? Take some time today to remember more innocent times, and see if you can learn something new from your past.