Concert Dates and Life

I recently realized that it’s 2019 and that I might be able to determine online the exact date of each of the concerts I had ever attended. In the process of almost complete success at this, I realized that I had been to even fewer concerts than I thought. I have already covered them almost completely in posts here. There’s only one or two that I missed, and if it’s the one, then it’s not a huge story. I expect I’ll include that below the list. I’ll put them in order, with artist, opener if noteworthy, date and venue.

Beach Boys
May 20, 1979
Providence Civic Center

Bee Gees
August 28, 1979
Providence Civic Center

Cheap Trick
Feb 28, 1981
Boston Garden

Moody Blues
July 15, 1981
Providence Civic Center

ELO
Oct 3, 1981
Boston Garden

Foreigner with Joe Walsh
Nov 5, 1985
Worcester Centrum

Pink Floyd
May 6, 1988
Foxboro Stadium

Styx with Pat Benatar
June 27, 1997
Great Woods

The Guess Who
2005???
August 31, 2002
South Shore Music Circus

The last one was weirdly stubborn. It has to be 2004 or 2005. It was warm. It wouldn’t have been warm in the part of 2004 it would have been or in the part of 2005 it definitely couldn’t have been. That puts it not earlier than April and not later than August 2005. Generally the Music Circus was a summer thing, unless I am mistaken, so that fits. I know it was not 2002, which is the year for which a date wanted to pop up.

I am almost certain Pink Floyd was the 6th and not the other date, the 8th. The flying pig didn’t work well at my show. It famously failed at one of them but it didn’t say which. There is video of it working flawlessly on the 8th. It was mildly rainy. Weather data for the 6th suggests it was the wetter day.

There was some minor possibility the year for foreigner was wrong, but the gap from it to Pink Floyd is right.

Apparently Cheap Trick was my third concert, and was the only one I didn’t mention before. It fits my memory of having gone twice to Providence, once to Boston, and then one last time to Providence. I always think of Providence as my favorite, although the Music Circus was a cozy venue. I went to Cheap Trick with my cousin, whose chauffeur I tended to be for a couple years. I was still driving my first car at the time, which he loved as much as I did. It was a 1969 Chevy Nova.

Cheap Trick was just amazing. I wasn’t terribly familiar with them, but playing live was what they did best. They were unusual in becoming huge due to a live album. They were amazing even from the nose bleed seats the entire length of Boston Garden opposite the stage. They were the farthest seats I ever had for a concert.

When we left, we found someone had siphoned gas from the car and it was reading empty. We made it home from Boston, with my cousin making up song lyrics, shades of Running On Empty, about the experience of riding along on fumes hoping to make it. We did. I dropped him off and made it home. These days there would have been numerous opportunities to get gas along the way. Not then at that hour. Even now, driving down the highway through Boston you don’t just see gas stations sitting right off an exit. You have to know they are there. If I come from the north and am running low, I don’t actually stop for gas until the Randolph/Stoughton/Avon exit on route 24, since that’s the first place where I know just where to go.

Looking at the dates, the last one of the early concerts was just before I got my first apartment. While I only had the first place for nine months, I segued from that to living at my father’s house and starting college three years after my peers. No more concerts for me! In 1985 I was still in college but things were weird. I had dated Layla from New Year’s Eve, last day of 1984, until it trailed off entirely that spring or just into summer 1985. I was feeling a bit rebellious. There had been a robbery late in 1984 at the store where I worked, where Layla had taken to coming in and chatting with me at length. I freaked out and quit. My stepmother yelled at me, not long after when she figured this out, “you’re not quitting!” I looked for work that wouldn’t be retail. At this point in school I was taking the first semester of Intermediate Accounting, and I believe I was also doing Auditing and Business Law II concurrently. The latter two memorable because they were both with the horrible professor I ended up with for five different classes in my major.

So I looked for work with CPAs locally. I was easily discouraged, so I tried three of them. On the third one, I decided to try Just One More. I opened a phone book, ran my finger down the listings and went with the one that “felt” promising. I wish that kind of thing were as reliable as my ability to “know” there’s going to be a speed trap. That guy hired me to start in February, when tax season would actually be getting underway. So I ended up back at the store, and doing both things once the other one started. I ended up doing almost everything an accountant would have done, just not doing an audit. As far as I know, he only had one audit client anyway. I prepared worksheets for it. I ended up there for nine months, until way after tax season. The CPA started acting odd in ways that made me wonder if he was having a fling or something, but what was actually happening is he was working on selling the practice and retiring. That, I learned not long after, was why the timing of when he was done with me. It was also why his daughter, who became a CPA herself not that long before or just after I was there, got another job and set the stage for my staying there past April.

I’d have been terribly busy up until shortly before the Foreigner concert, but money wouldn’t have been as much an issue as sometimes.

That summer, I think it was, Frank and his first wife packed up to move to Florida. I had the opportunity to help drive the truck to Florida and they would pay for a cheap flight back north. I’d get the drive and maybe a few days and then be home. My stepmother, on the heels of the job thing, insisted I was absolutely not going. In retrospect, going then would have been vastly preferable. By around the time of Foreigner I probably already planned to take the spring semester off and go to Florida to stay with Frank for a few months or more.

During this time, I was probably suffering what we’d now call PTSD from the robbery. This was exacerbated for a while by the fact the guys got caught and I had to go to court a couple times. Heh. One of those times, the girl who’d been there behind the counter with me for the robbery was also there. Later she moved to New Hampshire or something and fled being a witness. I drove her home afterward and she asked me in to “smoke a joint.” I had a test that day I had promised to show up for if I was able to get out of court in time! Mr. Honor Above All was so intent on keeping that commitment that he completely missed that sharing a joint was not what she was after. She was cute, too.

Under the whole thing of actually dating someone early in the year – someone I wasn’t really interested in – and the having a second job I was intensely proud of and things seeming great and my keeping busy, I was falling apart. It’s probably not so much that the divorce of my parents many years before came back to haunt me as it was provoked into being part and parcel of the PTSD, stress, anxiety, arguably depression interlude. My stepmother wasn’t without good points or intentions, but couldn’t have known she was interjecting herself into that sort of maelstrom and not necessarily the best one to do so.

Right, concerts. After Foreigner, I went to Florida at the end of December, without permission. Drove 1550 miles and thank God the car had no problems. Ended up living there in my friend’s apartment for about six weeks. After a couple weeks, I got a job full time nights at a convenience store. That was a lot of work but was fun, interesting, and different from the ones I’d worked in up north. When Frank abruptly decided he hated Florida Just That Much and was moving to New Hampshire now, I liked Florida enough to be tempted to figure out how to stay. My biggest concern was how to finish college. My stepmother had vehemently assured me I would never finish, which meant there was absolutely no way in hell I was going to Not Finish. Apparently my not graduating high school was a black mark, and the stellar GED scores that set me on the road to college were not enough to matter. I’d have been trying to support myself, by myself, in a strange place, while trying to get credit for the bulk of an accounting degree transferred to a more expensive school that required five rather than four years for the degree. The best I might have done is kept the job, rented a room – on basically a couple days notice that we were leaving – and hung out down there for longer. I could have gotten some other job on the side and just used my time for making money. The sad thing is I never so much as set foot in the Gulf of Mexico. That waited until a couple years later when I was in Galveston. I wasn’t really a beach person. Plus I was in a funk, even being in the good weather and warmth, and having my sinuses clear up while there. I seldom felt healthier as an adult.

Since I had vexed my father and stepmother so thoroughly, I moved in with my older brother when I got back. I took a job nights at one of the same stores I’d worked at through college. Eventually I ended up delivering papers for the rest of college. I returned to school via summer classes that summer, then did three more semesters and more summer classes in 1987. My last class was a final in MA318 on December 16, 1987, so I was officially class of 1988. Originally started in the class of 1986. In effect, I took an extra year, subtracting out the semester off.

My stepmother was disgusted enough that she gave my mother a hard time for taking me to celebrate “graduating.” Which is to say, I got my degree. I refused to participate in the graduation ceremony. I was still scarred by my high school experience. I picked up my diploma from the office in the administration building. I was also nearly as disgusted with college by then as with high school. I was unhappy with my accounting professors and didn’t want to do anything to make them look good. This put taking the CPA exam right out of the question. Besides, I wanted to do cost accounting. Ha! That pretty much meant being a CPA first. I was a disappointment in that regard, since I was one of the two top accounting students along the way in my year. They fully expected me to take the exam and be able to pass. My rival certainly did, then went to law school as well, emulating the horrible professor. Heck, last time I remembered his name and looked online, that guy had even become a professor like his hero, my nemesis. We were closest to being buddies in Accounting Theory class, which only had five of us in it. There was a girl in the class who had somewhat of a brain under the ditzy, but I dragged her across the finish line and made sure she didn’t blow the class. She’d not study or anything, and just before the class I would brief her, so she’d know what we’d be talking about and what to say if asked a question. She would repeat verbatim what I had told her. She got an A- while my rival and I each got a B+. This was an unvarnished example of the female professor favoring the one female student. She had been my beloved cost accounting professor a couple years before. In fact, that was what I took along with Intermediate Accounting I. That and something else. It was Auditing and B Law II the next semester. Anyway, I lost most of my respect for the cost accounting professor over her handling of the theory class. I dragged that girl into getting through the class, but the high grade was entirely in the imagination of the professor. She was probably a B. My grade was perfectly fair, so it’s not sour grapes about that.

It’s going to be weird when my kids graduate and I’m expected to attend, even though I am over it by now. I did actually attend the graduation ceremony for the year I’d have graduated if I’d not taken a semester off and had stuffed in enough classes in summers before then. The commencement speaker was a judge who got up and espoused communism. It was great! Seeing people I had known and offended enough for them to ignore me was also cool. That was the last graduation I attended. The caliber of commencement speech did nothing to encourage me when it would have been my turn.

Lucky for me, I graduated into a pretty dramatic recession and hijinks ensued. I’d have done pretty much everything differently if I had it to do again. That pink Floyd concert would have been close to my time of official graduation. I wouldn’t have gone had my brother not made it happen. I wouldn’t even have known there was a concert. That heyday was over for me. It’d be nine years later before I went to another, by which time we were into the era of nostalgia tours.

So there you have it. More than you ever wanted to know about me and the interlude when I fell apart, loosely in the context of “hey look, Google knows when most of the concerts happened way in the past.” This is a heck of a way to avoid more important things I needed to do.

Update:
I found out for certain that I was quite wrong about when the Guess Who concert was, so I corrected it in the list above.

Spam

I love getting a pile of spam comments every day. No real ones! Just spam. Not getting real ones might be a matter of “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it” or “silence is golden” and might be just as well, but hey. I get an awful lot of traffic for it to be nothing but spam.

Speaking of those old sayings, my late friend Frank, in 8th grade before I ever met him, had to give a speech in speech class. I didn’t have that class because I was in French instead. He got up, said “silence is golden.” That was it. When prompted, he added “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.” The class loved it, of course, and I forget whether the teacher gave him an A or a B, but it was a decent grade that rewarded his cleverness.

The Worst That Could Happen

I have always loved this song. I just happened to play it on my rounds through clicking YouTube song videos, and decided to post it before I go to bed.

 

The weird thing is, I am pretty sure I had a strong association with a specific crush along the way, but I can’t remember for sure. It probably morphed into a generic pining. Nope! I remember now. It may have had other associations and was probably generic, but one of my biggest crushes actually did get married after rejecting me. The guy was a dick and I knew it. That didn’t end well. I very much associated it with Jemma in advance of and after the marriage, even though I not only had given up by then, but also was somewhat irate at her treatment of me and at myself for bouncing back to her after I couldn’t bring myself to ask someone amazing like Sarah out.

I may also have associated it with Ella along the way, before I got over her for good, which was before the Jemma thing. Ironically, Ella never married. She never had kids. She had the same boyfriend she lived with for years, but that’s it. It almost feels like she didn’t find someone, so to speak. Her sister did marry, but also never had kids. The pair of them sometimes remind me of my stepsisters, who never married or had kids.

Anyway, the song is from the perspective of a guy who believes marriage to be a horrible thing. That was never my outlook. Not that I don’t have complex, nuanced views on the topic of marriage. However, it’s also hurting him terribly to lose the girl beyond any kind of recall, to something permanent. He knows it’s what she wants and needs, and he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her that, but that makes it no easier to take. Relatable. Pining not for the girl you can’t have, maybe one whose attention you can’t get in the first place, but  for the girl you had but couldn’t keep.

I realized when it started to play that it falls at least somewhat into the category of songs I can’t resist singing when they come on. Because that’s what I did. The first one out of several in a row to provoke that response. That’s another post I’ve been playing with in my head for one of these days. The list is long, so one post can’t be exhaustive. So I’ve been letting the idea percolate in an effort to remember as many as I can that are prime ones.

Pretty Lady

I had left my playlist of MP3 songs playing while in the kitchen making supper, so I could kind of half hear it. Then I heard Pretty Lady, by Lighthouse, distinctly. It transported me back in time. I absolutely love the song. It fits a category of song where the angst-ridden guy wonders if and how he can ever get the girl to notice him, or if she could possibly be interested, or what to do about her appearing not to be. Related is the category where the guy pines for the girl he had and lost or wasn’t able to have even when she knew about it. I’m a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on hopeless, not hopeful like Kathleen Turner. Speaking of stones, I’m Stone in Love With You could be part of the aforementioned category, and is another song I love.

Pretty Lady is one of Frank’s songs. If I’d randomly written a post titled “Frank Songs” and tried to remember ones associated with him, I would probably have forgotten it completely, even though it’s one of the biggest. His high school Ella was a girl we’ll call Frannie. She really was gorgeous, though I’d have gone more for her friend we’ll call Angie, an adorable blond girl I noticed very much in jr high school, but didn’t quite count as a crush. They were both from his town, which separated from the school district at the high school level, except for vocational students, after the new high school for the purpose was completed in time for tenth grade. I never saw them after that, and really not after eighth. For him this was later in school, rather than ninth grade like my Ella was.

She really didn’t seem to notice he even existed, and he never seemed to get her attention. I think because he was more in love and less looking to get some, he was more timid than he might have been. She wasn’t his only major crush. An earlier one at least noticed him enough to tell him to drop dead. Pretty Lady was his wistful, hopeful/hopeless song for Frannie.

It’s really a great song, and you just don’t hear it. They were, to my knowledge, a two hit wonder. Their other song was One Fine Morning.

As for other Frank songs? I may have mentioned that he was enough of a fan of ABBA as I was discovering them that I associate him with the band overall. I associate him with Ballroom Blitz, by the Sweet. The fact that he blasted it out of large stereo speakers while leaning between them, pointing at each other with his head in between, leaves me associating him somewhat with Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf as well. “I like to dream. Yes, yes, right between the sound machine.” That matched what I was seeing. It turns out that the same thing was the inspiration for the lyric. I believe it was John Kay, between two speakers in Germany.

He introduced me to Kate Bush, specifically The Dreaming, so for me that, the only Kate Bush song I have ever actually liked, conjures him.

There have to be more.  A lot of our relationship had to do with music. Oddly enough, I can’t recall going with him to any concerts.

Okay, see? I wasn’t even done adding links to all the songs mentioned, clicking categories and publishing this when I thought of another. Probably because I have Pink Floyd as a category. My categories are a mess because I started adding subcategories willy-nilly and soon realized it was completely out of hand in part due to how they are presented on the blog. I should really have used tags. So I have categories for people or things I may never mention again, and have been using a master category (music, movies, actors…) for new ones that may be one-shots, but may be mentioned more often. Ugh.

Anyway, from The Wall, he was a massive fan of Run Like Hell. I can’t hear it without remembering Frank. Great song, of course. He enjoyed the lyrics or, more accurately, the imagery.  While it spoke the the kind of trouble he might get up to. Once he opened the flood gates, he completely made up for everything I missed out on. It was almost baffling when he couldn’t get some. Apparently it was impossible for me to learn anything by his example or encouragement.  But the real target of the song for him was the guy in college who ended up with Frank’s girlfriend who was probably, among those he was able to get and excluding someone like Frannie, the love of his life. Frank went on a vendetta, his entire personality changed, and he was never the same person, even many years after he got over it. I thought it was bizarre that he actually became relatively close to that guy near the end of his life, and that guy presented himself as a good friend of Franks afterward. Which I guess says as much about me, not forgetting a slight on my friend’s behalf, even if it was no skin off my rump and things turned out just as well for all involved. And that even though it arguably wasn’t a slight so much as the girl deciding to go be with someone else for a time. Well, my beef might also have been with the personality transformation. But I digress.

Granny

A character that adds a bit of nuance to Melody is “Granny Perkins,” Melody’s grandmother who lives with the family. The thing is, she can’t be Granny Perkins. Melody’s name from her father is Perkins, and it’s obvious that Granny is Melody’s maternal grandmother.

There’s the relationship between her and Mrs. Perkins, whose name is Flo, as we learn from Granny. The two of them look like they could be mother and daughter. Obviously that’s a matter of casting. In real life at the time, if I remember right, Granny was old enough to be Melody’s great grandmother.

The big clue is when Daniel is at tea. Granny is talking, mainly addressing Mr. Perkins, and she refers to “my Ernie,” obviously speaking of her husband. If she were addressing her son, she would say “your father” or such, more likely. I could be wrong, but it strikes me as how she’d talk to her son-in-law instead of her son.

My father’s parents didn’t live directly with us the way Granny does with the Perkins family. They lived in the same house, in a pseudo-apartment that took four of the six rooms in the house. The first floor had two large rooms, which were a kitchen/ dining room, and a living room. The full bath was on the second floor with the grandparents, and the first floor had a half bath.

Yes, this made the place kind of small, for a large looking house. It had belonged to my grandparents. My parents had planned to build a new house across the street. It was the only house on the street, though there were several other buildings. On the opposite side there was a tiny building that was an office; a maintenance building of sorts, the only one that exists to this day, and the closest one to being usable as a dwelling; a pump house for our well; a storage building clad in green metal; and a similar building, originally, that my father had bought with a small lot for his business. Something I am not supposed to mention happened that resulted in his having to build a replacement, only to have it happen again, this time to be replaced on the other side of town instead. On the same side as us there was an old sawmill, which I only saw used once in my childhood; there was a long, low storage building that housed things like bulldozers and bog equipment; there was an even bigger green metal clad building similarly used for storage; and then there was a row of small shed-like buildings, clad in green metal, ranging from several feet square down to shallow closet sized. In the middle of those, one was an outhouse, which gives an idea what I mean by the range of sizes. Those lined the road as it started down a hill from the uplands down to the level of the swamp. There was a twin of the outhouse down in the swamp, in a wooded area between two sections of cranberry bogs. In their early years, the sheds had been used for storing munitions, from what I understand. That was the primary business of the man my grandfather worked for, who had originally owned all the land around us and the bogs. In later years, the largest and smallest of the sheds got hauled to our yard. The largest my brother and I used as a chicken coop. The smallest we used as more or less a potting shed.

My grandfather couldn’t afford the mortgage. Their kids were grown and only the youngest still lived there. My father prevailed in the battle over whether we would take over that place, house the five of us in two rooms and the cellar and keep his parents housed, or build our own place. There were conditions, like what he would do to finish the cellar to make viable rooms out of it. It wasn’t the end of the world and I certainly never knew better as a kid, but it only got part of the way there. The marriage was probably doomed then and there, even if it hadn’t been already. It’s interesting having a clearer idea of the dynamics of a situation like that, now that I’m an “old misery” myself. I can understand how they irritated each other, and I always knew it wasn’t one-sided.

It was cool having the grandparents around. Handy, too. Between older siblings, my father working a stone’s throw up the street, and grandparents handy, there was never an issue with an adult being around if needed. Not that my grandmother babysat us, per se. My mother didn’t work, but we were babysat by my mother’s younger sister a couple times before I was school age. We also saw a lot of my mother’s parents, and stayed with them a lot. We didn’t get left in her care, but we also visited my great grandmother, my mother’s mother’s mother, regularly. My oldest got her name. Unfortunately, she hates the name. Oops.

So to me the Waltons weren’t strange, having the grandparents living in the same house, even though ours were semi-separate. It’s probably much more historically normal to have multiple generation households than not. Or three+ generation, really, since parents and kids are multiple generations. But, you know, multiple adult generations. The dynamics might be something to be worked out. Finances, too, since that might be part of the point. I can totally see having my kids live with me after they are adults, but not as people I’m supporting when they are in their thirties. I can see living in the same house with them and their kids. It’s a source of stability.

I still haven’t figured out where they fit Granny Perkins in that apartment. Near as I can tell so far, you go in and the kitchen/dining room is on the right. Adjoining it and next on the right is the living room. Melody’s room is directly at the end of the hall, and before that is the master bedroom. Before that must be the bathroom, though for some reason I thought that was on the right. But if the bathroom is on the right, it would be in the same spot as the living room. Since you can see the kitchen from the living room, well… I’d have to review and see if I am clear again. Maybe she’s in a closet on the right before Melody’s room? It’s all supposedly a set built in the main building they used for filming, which doesn’t explain the appropriate views out the windows. Maybe that’s CGI. Oh wait… 1970. LOL.

Darn, gotta go to the dentist and either publish this without reviewing it or save a draft. I think I said what I wanted, if not well, so I’ll go for it.

People Are So Gullible

That’s all. Otherwise I’d be saying too much. It’s sad to watch someone otherwise admirable being awesome and then at the end have them reveal themselves as a dupe.

Of course, my father would say I’m gullible. My wife never forgave him for that. But being taken for a ride by a fraudulent local repair shop is minor league.

Start With The Goldfish

I discovered a couple things last night. One is a better quality Melody on YouTube than the movie I linked in my Melody Links post.

Another, specifically found when I plugged the Saucy Turtles Make Terrible Bathmats Charlie “memory maxim” (that I heard as “memory maxie” until I saw the correct text in a transcript) into Google to see if it was unique to Melody or was something found in nature, so to speak. It was obviously made up for Melody. No surprise. They were going for the adults seeming ridiculous.

I found a video with Alan Parker and David Puttnam, centered mostly on making Melody and how they came to be in the movie business.

The big takeaway from that is that forever after they first screened Melody, they’ve been saying to get to the goldfish sooner. Like right away. What they saw was that the first ten minutes were dull and didn’t pull people in. Once you got to her and the goldfish, people were hooked. This is actually what I was picturing, anticipating getting the kids to watch it. I was thinking I’d need to tell them to be patient, maybe give them an idea how things were being introduced, and figure when it got to her they might find it a bit archaic but certainly more compelling. Archaic is exactly part of why I want to have them watch it. I just want to do it movie night style with the DVD that will, I would hope, translated more crisply to the TV than even the best YouTube one.

A smaller takeaway was that Melody essentially did well in markets where it was allowed to retain the name Melody. Japan, mostly. I knew they had considered releasing it as To Love Somebody, but I was not aware that it had been released under that name in the United States. Kind of makes asking people if they saw “Melody” when it came out in 1971 even sketchier. At least that name made more sense than S.W.A.L.K., the name the distributor insisted on for the UK and not sure how far beyond.

One of the comical parts was Alan had no idea how to write a script formatted to look like a script. It was all a learning experience, based on what other scripts looked like. He was also a bit taken aback by the detail he had to include, notably in describing every bit of the scenes set to music that had no dialogue at all.

Finally, there’s a better description of how Alan came to do some of the outdoor filming of mobs of kids. It was the sports day. It was absolute chaos, yet magic happened.

Worth a watch if you’re curious about the details of how they pulled the whole thing off, and bits about their later careers and how Melody and their start with it influenced things.

Start with the goldfish. Brilliant advice.

Update:

I watched the new movie link to the end and found that not only are the opening credits slightly different, but also the end in this release doesn’t show the words “To Love Somebody” on the screen where it appeared in other releases available on YouTube. That much be what distinguishes a copy made for the American or any other market when that alternate title was used, even though they never show any title but Melody when the film starts. I also confirmed that the entire video is crisp as it looked at the beginning. Technically I didn’t know the whole thing was good when I linked it. Just seemed logical.

Went Clothes Shopping

I mentioned clothes shopping recently. This morning I went after work. I grabbed three different pairs of jeans: George, Rustler, and Levi’s. All we size 40. Two were “regular” fit but both seemed to tout that as being roomy. The other was “relaxed” fit, the designation I would normally expect to mean roomy and forgiving. The two fit well enough to buy. The one was too loose. I didn’t bother to go back and get regular fit or whatever in Levi’s, or try 38 relaxed in that brand. I’ll try the the two I tried on and a third that I grabbed in one of them. That’ll let me know how they are after the machines in the cellar shrink them, and how they seem to wear. The recent cheap pairs showed obvious unnatural wear within a couple wearings. The thing is, the two brands I bought are not much more money. Levi’s would have been more than double.

I also grabbed a couple T-shirts, one of which may end up being too tent-sized to wear to work. If it’s too big, I’ll know to get a size down. One of them is intentionally tall sized, so more money than the typical pocket tee. The other is even lower than the traditional Fruit of the Loom collection that lines a whole display wall each spring. On the plus side, cheap. Possibly on the plus side, thin and soft. That might be a negative, though. I ended up not liking FotL’s new “Platinum” weave shirts as much as the old ones that are thicker, sturdier, and don’t stain as instantly. We’ll see. Work really beats on them.

More Concerts

I mentioned previously my first and most recent concerts, and said I’d fill in more later. It’s later. I’m afraid I don’t remember the order of the concerts after the Bee Gees and before Styx with Pat Benatar. For what it’s worth, whoever opened for the Bee Gees was nobody you ever heard of and was pretty bad, but I still thought it was mean that people booed them so mercilessly. I rather like the more modern approach of pairing bands that are closer to peers than to have an unknown like Jimi Hendrix open for the Monkees. But to be fair that’s a nostalgia tour marketing concept.

It’s so weird trying to drink anything when you’re numb after getting a filling. Just a side note.

I am pretty sure my last concert before Styx was Pink Floyd, in my only trip ever to Foxboro Stadium. My youngest brother treated me. I wouldn’t have thought to go to Floyd, as much as I loved The Wall and wondered how Roger Waters had gotten into my head when I first heard it at Daphne’s house when it came out. And of course, I try to do a non-Melody post and what happens? There’s a direct connection between Melody and Pink Floyd! Sir Alan Parker went from ad copy writing (writing marketing material is fun! But it can be hard and takes a lot of creativity, from what exposure I’ve had to doing it) to writing a screenplay to directing. The screenplay was Melody. The directing bug bit him when he did some second unit stuff, not even credited, I believe, on Melody. Outdoor stuff with gangs of kids. The field day specifically, if I remember correctly what I read about it.

Parker went on to direct, among other things, Fame, which I saw with my friend Perry and possibly Joan in 1980. Love me some Irene Cara! Speaking of connections you can make, you go from Irene Cara to Electric Company to Joss Whedon;s father to Joss and, you name it: Avengers, Buffy, Dr. Horrible, but of course for me it’s Firefly. We considered naming our middle child Kaylee. Turned out it would have fit, but it had also become surprisingly common, in one spelling or another.

Digression. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

Then Parker directed Pink Floyd: The Wall, which was released in 1982. I didn’t see it until 1985, at Layla’s house. It was pretty wild. Not what the album made me visualize. More fascinating than the fact that he connects to Pink Floyd and it’s fun to make these connections is that he directed a large gang of rebelling school kids in The Wall. It seems somehow… familiar. Gotta teach your children well, not employ darkly sarcastic thought control.

That Pink Floyd tour was the one where they had a huge pig suspended over the place. Not sure the whole thing worked as intended. The lasers in the foggy air were wicked cool, though.

I am 99% sure that the concert I went to before Pink Floyd was Foreigner, with Joe Walsh as the opener. I didn’t know from Joe Walsh at the time, apart from Life’s Been Good, which is actually a song I associate with my friend Frank. His show was awesome. I was in the men’s room when Rocky Mountain Way started. I remembered the song from my childhood, but couldn’t have told you who did it, and wouldn’t have remembered it if not prompted by hearing it. I wasn’t expecting Life in the Fast Lane, another song I associate with Frank. So there were three hits, and the stuff I didn’t know at all was good. The way music you hear in concert is usually better than you might perceive it to be if you tried listening in another setting and format. I’m not sure I would say he was worth the ticket all by himself, the way Benatar was, but he was damn good.

Foreigner, the original lineup, was just amazing. The connection to Floyd is that I took my youngest brother to Foreigner, his first concert ever. That was at the Worcester Centrum, my only trip to that venue. He was blown away. That was his response, some time later, treating me to Pink Floyd.

Foreigner was one of those bands that seemed like they kept playing and playing and playing and it would go on endlessly, with every ounce of energy at the end that they gave away from the beginning. The live version of Hot Blooded is great live. It doesn’t belong on my greatest hits CD, thankyouverymuch. They have the distinction of being the only band ever to leave my ears hurting. It lasted a while, too. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but I guess it’s a risk you take.

One relatively early concert I went to was one of my all time favorite bands who are the Bee Gees, the Moody Blues. Not one of the amazing, fancy concerts where they have an orchestra to help them do justice to things like the tracks off Days of Future Passed. Passed, not past, people. There’s probably a linguistics lesson in there somewhere, but I’m no Mark David Ledbetter.

This was not one of my better concerts. It was cool. I got to see the Moody Blues! Their new music was also good, from Long Distance Voyager or whichever one they were promoting. The company was abysmal and made the evening miserable. If I were to talk about songs reminding me of Daphne, the girl who messed with my head so thoroughly that I arguably still haven’t recovered, I would have to include Moody Blues as an entire band. Luckily that doesn’t ruin them for me. We both already loved them. It was one of the things we had in common. That and space. I’m not sure I ever met anyone else who shared my dream at the time of starting a private space launch company. Obviously that didn’t happen, but it was at the heart of one of my earlier book (series) ideas after I realized if I couldn’t ever do it I at least could fictionalize it. I was floored when I read Heinlein’s The Man Who Sold the Moon a few years later and saw the commonalities and by how many years he’d beaten me to it, albeit in short form. I don’t know when I might have read it had I not signed up for a US literature class for which part of the reading came from Heinlein’s The Past Through Tomorrow. After having bought that for the class, and having been thrilled the professor was that cool, I had to drop the class before it even began. I made sure to sign up with the same guy a later semester, but then he had switched to Lovecraft. Just not the same! Though I don’t regret the exposure to it. It was something my late uncle loved.

Wow, that was a digression. I only remember who one of the other people with us was. She and he are both FB friends these days. I think another one of the people with us may have been a guy she pined for and had ground down into having sex with her, once, and ensuring I knew about it, while maintaining the bizarre… virginal?… act toward me. That aside, everyone seemed to be in a tempestuous mood. The drive there was unpleasant and argumentative. The mood in the group of us in the venue itself was, well, moody. It was a relief for it to be over, even though the concert proper did settle things down.

In terms of company and the moods people were in, that was the worst. It wasn’t as bad taking abuse from Zack’s sister over my accidental purchase of seats with an obstructed view for ELO. Which I know I mentioned somewhere, but should also go in a post specifically about concerts. Moody Blues were the third of my three concerts at Providence Civic Center. I can remember two at Boston Garden, but I may be forgetting one. I’ll get back to the rest of the concerts another day.

Time for a Reread?

Someone on the Wheel of Time group on Facebook posted a question about the consequences of something that happened near the end. I didn’t remember that thing happening. That might mean it’s time for a reread.

I read the first five so many times it’s ridiculous, since when I first read those books, they were all that had come out. I’ve read the sixth one a lot, but after book 8 I no longer did a reread prior to each new release. That made “the slog” even worse. The slog is when you get to books 9 and 10, and arguably 8, and it… just… drags… while the pieces move around the chess board. In book 11, Jordan’s last complete one before he died, I said “Jordan’s back!” It was classic Robert Jordan, back in good form.

What I found when I finally did a reread of the entire series was that the slog isn’t as much of a slog when reading start to finish without waiting for the next book. There actually are super exciting and consequential things that happen even in the worse of the books, since – and this has to be hard when writing such a series – each volume has a climactic conclusion, even if nothing seems gripping before that.

It has been a couple years or so since my last reread. I think I have read the final book twice, but maybe it’s been three times. That one needs it more than normal, and if nothing else, it’d be worth my picking that one alone up. Since then, being largely broke and hating what publishers have done to book prices, I have been reading mostly indie books on Kindle. Great discoveries, that way. For instance, I’ve never read a Christopher Nuttall book I haven’t liked, and mostly more than that, even when I go into it thinking I’m not so sure this is my thing. That reread, of all the books I have in paper format, took something like six months. The complete thing is a big commitment. I’m tempted to get them all in Kindle format, but they are one of those things where you don’t save much money by saving the publisher  100% of their marginal cost of publishing a book.

Anyway, even when I read the first ones, I sometimes see something I missed, and I always find I forgot the exact order of events or little details. It also changes it to have read to the end of the series, since there is a crazy amount of foreshadowing.

It’s a shame I was unable to get though even the first Song of Ice and Fire book, Game of Thrones. I love the series and the idea of the books, and appreciate the rabid fandom and the details I learn about the books from YouTubers, but to me GRRM just wasn’t a very good writer. It’s better to be a writer who’s as “not very good” as him and wealthy from your work than it is to have nothing more than ideas that may never make their way to print. That doesn’t make it any easier to slog through it, and it doesn’t make it any easier to pick up the book, open it, and recognize whether I have read a given passage or not on my last attempt. I’d drop it without marking my place and not be able to tell where I was. I could open it to later in the book, start reading, and not recognize that I had missed anything. I’ve never experienced anything like that.

Perhaps next winter, when I’m especially broke unless the pattern changes, I’ll reread all or some of WoT again.

As for the TV series, I am worried. I love the idea that it’ll be brought to life, but it could be a disaster so easily. It just feels too much like it’s being done to be done, by people who may not love or understand the books. It requires massive condensing, and it would be easy to mess that up, just for starters. We’ll see. I’ll be watching and no doubt commenting vociferously.

First of May

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about discovering Melody is that from the time I fell in love with the song First of May, I had something of a story in my head based on it. If pressed to put the story to film, I probably couldn’t have done better than Melody.

The song lends itself to provoking a story in my head not just because it tells the bones of a story that leave it for you to flesh out in your imagination, but also because it hit a nerve. It hit the memory, much nearer to hand then, of youthful love that was just that powerful. It hit the dream of a love that would never die, even if there was an interruption of being able to be together or a wane in its intensity along the way. I was all about that romantic love that for me has never successfully been requited.

The song was brilliantly and evocatively written. The movie makes brilliant use of the song as inspiration and prop. The use of Melody Fair and To Love Somebody is a bonus, but they all fit together so well.

If Melody didn’t exist, someone would have to create it. That is, a film based on or inspired by First of May.

Clothes Shopping

I hate it. Generally. During part of the time I did Microsoft support, we were required to wear ties. Guys would cope by getting the catchiest or most outrageous ties they could find. It was fun finding cool ties. I still have a big collection hanging in the closet that’s mainly devoted to storing things that aren’t clothes, and is usually blocked with stuff that must be moved if I want to remind myself what’s in there. Like a few weeks ago when I pulled out the prints and painting I bought years ago at science fiction conventions, but never got framed and hung. Showed them to the kids and told them whatever there was to tell. The oldest is artistic, so it was mainly for her benefit. Also handed over my Michael Whelan art books for her to look through for a day or two. Speaking of art, as I recall, one of my ties is inspired by Starry Night. Love Van Gogh.

Winter is always lean at my job, so I’ve been limping along with an increasingly small number of jeans that both fit and don’t have holes too large for me to be willing to wear them. They tend to develop worn spots and then holes right around the bottom of where the pocket is inside the pants. That’s from leaning or rubbing against the metal bar that runs along the side of the conveyor belt. The extent of it depends on the exact nature of the work at the time. For a long time, I was working off of rollers, scanning and stacking packages onto pallets, wrapping them, and putting the pallets into a trailer to go on a ferry. Then for a while I was working mainly inside a trailer with rollers on the floor, floor loading packages as someone else took them off the conveyor and sent them down the rollers. We no longer do that particular location, and I subsequently spent a lot of time mostly standing against a conveyor and a slide going down either to rollers or another conveyor, splitting packages to the appropriate place. That started the wear pattern happening heavily. When I loaded the trailer, I sometimes had to be out at the conveyor to put in my own packages, then go up a couple steps into the trailer, stack before anything got by or rely on others to catch them, then pop back down the steps, rinse and repeat. Broke a rib and got whiplash falling down the stairs and against the conveyor structure a couple years back. Fun. It took six months for it to stop hurting completely. Never missed a day of work for it, and only knew I broke the rib because of an unrelated CAT scan a month afterward that happened to show the unhealed rib.

Now I still split from the middle of a conveyor down to the only remaining stretch of rollers in the place, where someone scans and puts packages onto pallets rather than loading them directly into delivery vans. However, I also scan and load packages into two or three vans at the same time. So it might be 300 packages I load, give or take, and 400-600 packages I send down to the rollers. I move around a lot and don’t lean against the metal support along the conveyor so much, but the damage was done.

I had been buying the cheapest Walmart jeans for many years. $9 and change a pair. If they wore out I bought more. I knew what size fit and could reliably walk in and buy them. Then they stopped carrying my style, so I had to order them. Good thing I knew exactly the size and style to order.

At the same time, the pants got super sensitive to abrading, and the newest pants ended up with the worst wear and the biggest holes. They also seemed to shrink more easily. I stopped ordering them and braced myself to find something else, but that had to wait for the tax refund or for an increase in income. It’s both that time, and getting critical in terms of what is available to wear. I was keeping enough pants to get me through variability in laundry processing.

The thing is, no matter what Walmart might say on the labels of the cheap jeans to flatter me, I am not a 38 waist. 30 inseam, sure, but an old pair of Dockers I wore recently for the first time in years is a 40 waist and would barely button. I will have to pick a likely brand or two and – ugh! – try them on in sizes ranging around where I expect them to fit. Then I will have to try a pair or two in each size and brand long enough to see how they shrink and such. Whatever passes, I can then buy more, maybe make a habit. If I find the size in better brands is a reliable indicator, I might even be able to risk ordering online in a brand I haven’t tried. We’ll see.

In the meantime, it’s the first day on which it would be viable and appropriate to shop. It’s about the last thing I want to do.

Sequel

I was thinking never mind a remake. A sequel could have been interesting. It could have answered some questions that will be left forever up in the air about what happened after, or it could have continued to leave ambiguity while still picking up later.

It could have been a bit like having a sequel to The Cutting Edge, another favorite movie of mine. Figure skating meets romantic comedy! What could be better? Besides something that resonates with my own childhood as dramatically as Melody manages. You come along later in their lives and they’re married. Hijinks ensue with their own kid and/or themselves. Times change. Kids not entirely. That they married for real would be some vindication, without regard for how they arrived there after whatever hell there was to pay for the antics at the end of the original.

Of course, in fan fiction anything could happen. A while back I saw someone posit a scenario where they find themselves at Hogwarts via the trolley. Surreal. Or you could put them in a post-apocalyptic situation. TEOTWAWKI could hit while they are off on the trolley, and they are fending for themselves, trying to get by with the clothes on their backs. Pure fantasies of whatever variety.

Skipping ahead would certainly fit the storytelling pattern of the movie. Just as we never see what happens when Daniel collapses after winning the 220. His mother panics! Get the medic! Maybe we don’t need to do more than infer just how traumatic it was for everyone to get their lives and schooling back to something passing for normal. Maybe we don’t need to know how the kids became married old miseries. They just are, and we revisit old friends later in their lives. Ornshaw graduates Top Gun, becomes a hero and gets to return there as an instructor. Wait, wrong movie. Since he’s actually smarter than the teachers, he goes on to become one and show how it’s done. Daniel becomes famous for his art. or at least struggles to make a living at it other than by illustrating Melody’s stories she writes for children.

Or we could throw them together years later, after they’d been torn asunder. Their love will never die, but if they are separated for a while, it takes the right circumstances for a reunion and a more adult romantic comedy before they actually live happily ever after together.

None of which is exactly where I was going with this. The wife started talking and had trouble stopping, much as happens too often when I start typing.

If you go with the Heinleinesque scenario of all realities existing even if they are fiction in our own, then there’s a very real alternate reality, timeline, dimension – whatever you care to call it – in which the events of Melody happened. Number of the Beast, but we’re not in Oz anymore. We don’t know anything about the fine details of that reality in the parts we didn’t get to see, or that came after, but they are happening to those people in that world. Except in the many worlds theory, we have infinitely branching timelines in which any little variation that could happen does happen, each propagating a new universe. Some seem familiar, even indistinguishable. Some seem utterly alien. It takes so little to make a change. A movie that’s released in 1971 and flops in the United States instead does well and makes stars of the people involved, or bigger stars of the already famous ones. That’s a huge ripple through time. Tracy Hyde becomes a household name. She has more and bigger roles. She never becomes a legal secretary. A ten year old boy who’s not entirely different from Daniel Latimer sees it and his life is changed. A far cry from seeing it 47 years later than that and feeling zealously happy yet wistful. Might not be as big a change as we’d have if that movie George Lucas released in 1977, you know, the space one, hadn’t flopped, but… oh wait, that one didn’t flop.

If you put those two concepts together, then every fiction is its own timeline, and every one of those varies and branches infinitely. The one captured by the purveyor of a piece of fiction in our world is just the one we know, not all that could be. Imagine that Icy Hot Song if Ned never lost his head. Or if Avienda, I mean, Ygritte, survived. You know nothing, dear readers.

Seriously, though, a sequel could have been fun. It would have required greater success of the original. While there’s been a great deal of inspiration provided by Melody, despite its cult status, giving us things like Moonrise Kingdom, since most people never heard of Melody, most people wouldn’t care to follow the rest of the story. A shame, but there it is.

1971 Was so long ago, I had to check with my siblings to see if we maybe had seen Melody. As expected, it was no. Never heard of it. I figured that the possibility existed that I could have seen and forgotten it. I doubt it, though. Much as I love First of May and Melody Fair, neither of those came to my attention until later in the seventies. I’d have known them from the movie. The thing is, I know for a fact that we went to see Flight of the Doves in 1971. I remember it being a big deal to my sister. That was yet another Jack Wild film. Yet all I can remember is that I saw it. I remember nothing about it. I remembered parts of the Planet of the Apes movies vividly. My father took as to all four, regardless of whether they might have been age appropriate. I think of myself as having an excellent memory, but things do get spotty from my youth. That wasn’t the best year ever, either, since my father had left in early 1970 and the divorce would be final in the latter part of 1971. Ironically, 4th grade was an exceptional school year for me, and that was 1970-1971. I had both my first crush on a peer, Carol, resembling Melody, and a crush on my pretty blond math teacher. I crashed in 5th grade and had one of my worst school years.  I’ve mentioned it before, but seeing Melody right when I had that first crush in Daniel-but-shyer (and younger) fashion would have been fascinating.

I’m rambling. (I know: “No kidding! You just figured that out?” Heh.) I should be asleep and instead I’m going on and on without saying anything further that pertains to the post. So I’ll stop and survey the damage now.

Captain Marvel

I took the youngest to Captain Marvel today and we both loved it.

My very first impression was that it would be worth seeing. Then I got worried. There started being negative swirl about it. There started being the bizarre SJW stuff spouted in association with the promotion of it. Maybe it really was that bad and would tank, so that would give them something to blame.

But the trailers!

The wife was concerned about her being ridiculously overpowered and invulnerable, enough to ruin what the MCU had built with all those existing films. She got dragged to it and loved it. That’s a hard sell, since she had gotten tired of superhero movies as a genre after Black Panther. She insisted I had to go, and take the boy. Not a hard sell.

I was glad they did such a good job with Black Panther. I was a fan before most of the world ever heard of him. in my comic collecting days, I was buying a 4 part series with him and was never able to get the fourth part. It was weird, almost as if they didn’t bother to finish it.

I really don’t get the complaints of “wooden acting.” In the trailers I could see how they might be thinking that, but what I thought I was seeing was subtlety. That remains my take.

I can’t wait to see what they do with Monica Rambeau in the future! She was an awesome kid and of course, in comics I never read, had her own powers as an adult.

 

Melody Jones?

While being not-asleep, I just discovered this video of a song by Jack Wild. Catchy! I heard the lyrics on the first listen as a “Melody girl.” When I found the lyrics online, I discovered it was “Melody Jones.” I had seen the video presented by YouTube as an option before, but since it was labeled “Jack Wild  – Melody,” I assumed it was a compilation of clips of Jack in his Ornshaw role in Melody.

Offhand, I couldn’t find anything more about the song besides the lyrics. That was harder than normal, since it was obscure and I didn’t know the name, except to assume the song was named Melody. This creates the same problem the name of the movie does: It’s a word. If the whacky fake name of SWALK (or S.W.A.L.K.) that the distributor slapped on Melody in an effort to make less money in part of the world has one thing going for it, it’s that it’s a bit more distinctive in an online search. Not that they were thinking about pleasing Google back in 1970 or 1971.

It’s notable that Jack’s first wife was named Gaynor Jones.

Take out the Jones and it could be a song about Melody Perkins, which is what I figured it was when I heard it as Melody girl.

In poking around some more, I discovered that Jack Wild had done his own version of Working On It Night and Day, which is pretty cool. I also discovered a deleted scene picture, something I have not come across any of before labeled as such, of Jack as Ornshaw messing with a paint brush in what would probably be Daniel’s room. That fills in something I’d had a mental image of when Ornshaw tries to make Daniel feel better by listing off things he has going for him, including being good at painting.

Anyway, catchy song and a complete surprise. Now I’ll be able to find it again. Both of them, for that matter.

Peggy Swailscroft

Kay Skinner, now Kay Worsfold (I really like that picture), played Peggy Swailscroft in Melody. It’s always interesting to see whether the kids had been in other things before, and how long they acted after. In her case, that was her first role, and her short acting career ended with a 1972 release. Melody filmed during May through August 1970, when Kay was 12, and came out at the end of March 1971.

I bring her up for a few reasons. She is one of Melody’s closest friends. Besides her, that seems to include Rhoda, played by Lesley Roach, and Muriel, played by Camille Davis. Peggy plays an especially pivotal role, being with Melody at the dance. That makes her the foil – is that the right word? – making it harder for Daniel simply to go up and ask Melody to dance with him, but providing Daniel the excuse to bring Tom Ornshaw for moral support (courage in numbers). My take is that Peggy doesn’t read the situation right and, distasteful as dancing with Ornshaw may be, bear with it for the sake of Melody completing that dance with Daniel. Can’t really blame her, since he’d obviously rather be anywhere else but dancing with her.

Kay did a wonderful job playing that role. She captures the personality of the kid who would be amused to clue Robert Sinclair in so he’s aware of Muriel, then run away before Muriel can get her for doing it, and would play a central role in grilling Muriel about her apparent boy crazy exploits.

I’ve noticed that Kay has noted the cult following of Melody and has popped up online to note what a blast she had being in the film. The kids who were the stars have said similar, that it was a lot of fun.

Even if it was also work, can you imagine growing up, growing older, and having not only the memory, but also the thing you were in to watch. Like home movies, but different. So cool. And hey, she got to work with Roy Kinnear in her last role! She didn’t share scenes with him in Melody, but it looks like he might have played her dad in Raising the Roof. If so, that gives her something in common with both Melody Perkins and Veruca Salt.

We either never learn or have to be paying really close attention to learn both first and last names for the supporting kids. Is it strange that the girls we tend to know by first names and the boys by surnames? We learn Peggy’s name, though, except it took a transcript for me to catch it.

At the dance, there is an exchange between Ornshaw and the gang of boys, one in particular, in which we learn two things:

Hey, look at Swailscroft.
She thinks she knows it all.

Go on, Tom. Dance with her.

No, you won’t get me out there, mate.

I couldn’t hear all this clearly, watching even the best copy on YouTube. I thought Ornshaw was referring to Melody when he said something indistinguishable and that she thinks she knows it all. After all, there was no love lost between those two, and they had made faces at each other in the cafeteria scene. (Actually, Ornshaw does later say of Melody “She’s a bit stuck up, that one.” Forgot that when I first typed this.) But perhaps he’d know not to make fun of Melody in front of Daniel. If Melody was the last to know Daniel loved her, Ornshaw had to be the first. At that point, I had no reason to expect Ornshaw to dislike Peggy.

This is the one and only time in the entire film where Ornshaw is addressed as Tom, and the reason why the more perceptive or obsessed knew his full name. Then famous last words, not getting him out there. Between wanting to do most anything for Daniel and being susceptible to goading and the need to keep up his image with the guys, it was all over just after that.

As for the others, I think Lesley Roach as Rhoda is adorable in the film, and perfect in the key scenes she is in. Her last role was in 1976, but she was in a ton of stuff starting in 1966. She appears to have enough of a career that it’s odd that she stopped. But then, child actors often remain such and don’t make the leap to adult roles. Her name stands out because there was a Roach family locally that were family friends for a while when I was little. It appears that she and Kay have remained connected, or become reconnected. Here’s little clip of her playing a 9 year old when she was 16. I see that was 1971, which means she was closer to Jack Wild’s age than to the age of Tracy Hyde or Mark Lester. She tended to look as young or younger.

Of course, I’m going by IMDB, for film and TV roles. Any given actor could have gone on to do stage work. Camille Davis is listed with Melody as her first role, then with four more roles, all in 1982. She seemed older and more mature than some of the others, but she was “the big one” after all.

I took a big break with this unfinished, so I hope I didn’t lose the thread and end up sounding incoherent. The other kids, including Kay as Peggy, did a lot to help make the movie as great as it is. It’s just a shame it did so poorly in most markets.

I forgot to note that you hear Peggy’s last name not once, but twice in the movie. When Ornshaw is trying to get rid of Melody after the Latin punishment, before Daniel comes out, knowing full well why she is there, among other things he says: “Is old Swailscroft
waiting for you, is she?” That’s actually cleared than at the dance, but originally I had no clue who he meant.

Update:
The correct spelling may be Swailescroft. You never know what’s going to happen in something like a transcript. Both are out there, anyway. In either case, it doesn’t seem to be a real surname, so Google returns limited results. Kay seems to be involved in a Facebook group for Melody fans, which is cool.

Walking On Sunshine

This is a big favorite of mine. It’s one of those happy songs like Mr. Blue Sky. I’ve also been told it unexpectedly difficult in Rock Band on the Xbox.

Besides that I just love it, the song actually has two modest associations with people. One is my late stepsister, by dint of her having been a big fan of Katrina and the Waves and gone to one of their concerts before I was ever familiar with this song. The other is Sarah, my biggest college crush. That has to do with the lyrics:

Now every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down
‘Cause I just can’t wait ’til you write me you’re coming around

I took a semester off from college along the way and spent six weeks living in Florida with my friend Frank and his first wife. It would have been longer, but Frank abruptly decided he just hated it That Much and was Done Down There. So they moved to New Hampshire and I moved back to Massachusetts, to my brother’s house, where I lived for the last bit of college plus about six months.

While I was there, I wrote a lot of letters. This included some rather lengthy ones to Sarah, even though I had already blown it with her, if not beyond all hope of rescue. Yep, before there was blogging, there were letters. I’d originally gotten in the habit of corresponding with Frank when he was in college, then particularly after he moved to Florida. I told her some of my aspirations and told her how I’d actually felt about her, which had been pretty obvious at the point when we were standing on a sidewalk at the college and it was exactly when any normal guy would have asked her out but I lamely backed off because I had no idea what to say and froze from anxiety. It was her birthday, October 6, or right near it, and I had given her a clever, complementary card.

The Florida thing was later. Then the next fall, going to her dorm room, where I have no idea what I would have said to her or what the reception would have been had she been around, she had left a note on a whiteboard on her door that she was “checking out the mail factor.” I don’t remember ever actually talking to her after I came back. After she wasn’t there then, I think I let embarrassment overcome any urge to try again. Ugh.

I wasn’t planning to talk about her so much here. This was supposed to be a post in which I put the song and spoke of it, with brief mentions of the two associated people. There are a minimum of two other Sarah songs without my even having to… no, a minimum of four… think about it. That calls for its own post. Even with my late stepsister there are at least three other songs and, by extension with one of them, an entire band, which I also associate with Frank to some degree. So yeah, I’ll wait. but I wanted to embed the video of Katrina and the Waves before I am done here:

 

 

 

Ella Songs

The obvious, first, foremost and forever to the day I die Ella song is MacArthur Park. Not by Donna Summer! Not that Donna wasn’t awesome On The Radio. While it also reminds me of my older brother, since I remember being with him when I first heard it and fell in love with it, it was the theme song of the drum and bugle corps in which she was part of the color guard. They did a nice job of it as an instrumental. It is on some level especially suitable because of the wistful parts:

And after all the loves of my life
After all loves of my life
You’ll still be the one

And:

Oh and after all the loves of my life
After all the loves in my life
I’ll be thinking of you
And wondering why

Except, of course, I won’t. I am sure it would never have worked. I could have made a better show of it, and might always regret that, and regret hurting her by turning inward when she finally expressed overt reciprocity. I might regret not having my first date, my first kiss, that sort of thing, with someone that over the top special to me, at, well, what would have been the low side of the age of 15. I did the equivalent of Daniel walking off with Ornshaw and leaving Melody standing there after having presented herself as his if he left with her. (Immediately after I typed this, Melody Fair came on my large, random playlist. How funny.) Even before then, I had the opportunity to kiss her, had I been willing to do it in front of dozens of onlookers. She saved me by offering “a rain check.”

Off and on, to one degree or another, I pined for her for years. it peaked just after 9th grade, 1976. I wasn’t fully and completely over it until late summer 1982, when I ran into her just before I started college and we talked for, heck, upwards of half and hour, maybe closer to an hour, until the store she was working in was closing and I went to pay for the backpack I was buying for college. I continued to have regrets and question myself even longer, but I knew there was just absolutely no chance, that it had been for the best, and that we were such different people that there was no way. Unless we hadn’t become those people to enough of a degree back in the beginning, and might have grown up together to be more compatible or on the same page.

That said, there are two Paul Davis songs, some of my all time favorite songs, that both bring her to mind. It’s funny for me to say a song is an all time favorite, since I would probably say the same of dozens of songs, and would be hard pressed to narrow it even to a few, let alone one.

I made my friends laugh one time when I was driving somewhere and I declared Paul Davis to be “an unsung singer.” It was an unintentionally funny expression.

I Go Crazy captures the feeling, with Ella and to some degree others, of not entirely getting over it, of regret, of the ease of falling right back in.

Sweet Life captures what I imagined it could be like being together, married, in love, having children, and it not always being perfect but love prevailing. It’s a much more idyllic version of what I eventually ended up living, despite that having had its moments. She’s not the only one this applies to, though it’s more generic in that regard – a song of what might have been, perhaps – but it was originally for Ella.

I’m trying to think of more. I am sure there are some. The only one I can think of that sort of fits is Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers, for no other reason than it was out at exactly that time when I was crushing on her in 9th grade, and I was hearing it in the school cafeteria. Oh, to some degree Elenore by The Turtles, which is a song with a funny history. They tried to fit in every cliche they could to make the song too ridiculous for the record company, and ended up with a hit.

Now, there are Bee Gees songs. I loved them from way back, and may have associated things like Words or To Love Somebody with Ella along the way, but I also associated them with basically any girl I fell for hard enough. Whereas How Deep Is Your Love has a very specific association with a girl named Jemma. The getting to her through being friends with her brother that would probably have had success years earlier with Paula and her brother Paul was not successful with Jemma and her brother Joe. Too big of an age difference. Paula was a year younger than me and Jemma was five, which is nothing now, but was a lot then.

I guess I can update this if anything else comes to mind soon enough. Otherwise maybe a “how could I forget!” post.

Update:

There was a particular video for To Love Somebody that I was actually looking for when I linked the song video above. It didn’t pop up offhand, so I used another one. The one I just linked is clips from Melody, but isn’t the exact clip of the song as used in the movie, great as that is. It’s more of a complete progression. As it is subtitled: Kids Grow Up.

 

Quaint Is The Word

When I wrote this post, I forgot that one of the thoughts I have now and then is how quaint things from now will seem to us in the future, just as things from just a couple years ago – you know, like 1980 or so – can seem quaint now.

So if it makes you feel better about how things are now, think about how quaint or dated things from now will seem in just a couple years, for instance, looking back from 2040, when I’ll be almost 60. Yeah, 60. If 80 is the new 60.

The Orville Episode 11

I was completely convinced through much of the episode that Gordon would find out that Laura was a distant ancestor of his. They’re much too subtle for that. Nicely done. I was super impressed with Leighton Meester.

I kept thinking “I’m from Iowa. I only work in space.”

Back to the Twilight Zone moment: If the photo with Gordon had somehow been on the phone.

The nicotine addiction subplot was a riot. Tobacco may make me deathly sick, and may be the reason I was sickly before they gave me gamma globulin before I reached elementary school age, and may be the reason my brain phased in and out during school, and may be the reason I got super deathly sick when I was 16 1/2 through the rest of school, and so forth, but I still appreciate the humor and sympathize with the cravings.

I was never clear on why we were transporting the contents of a 400 year old time capsule from Earth to another planet.

I believe I have touched upon the concept of entangled lives and the influence people have on each other here. It’s cool that the show demonstrated it so well. That’s also why there’d be so many ramifications of “going back and changing things based on what we know now.” It’s going to be a dramatically different timeline, even for a minor change, and you might have no conception what would be different. For instance: My parents stay together. That completely eliminates my youngest brother. It eliminates his three kids and leaves his cool wife and her son my brother adopted in other hands. It changes the lives of my stepmother and stepsisters, with us never even knowing them. It would change me completely. In my twenties, I had an odd sort of a delayed meltdown over my parents splitting up. My father left just before I turned 9 and the divorce was final well after I turned 10. It was arguably for the best, but obviously to have not happened, things would already have been different, so there you go.

It’s kind of a thought provoking episode, in terms of how we are remembered, or not, how we interact and affect each other, and how we change but stay the same over the years and centuries.

Maddie Songs

Hearing a snippet of one of these I might have forgotten about made me think of doing a post of songs that make me think of Maddie. She was one of the only girls I ever dated, and was the third of my so-called Melody Girls that on some level the film brought to mind. Mostly it’s coincidental, a matter of songs current at the time. It was… when was it? I started college in September 1982 undeclared. I just knew I needed a degree to move beyond where I had rapidly advanced on my first job worth the name, the first job I loved. I was jealous of my friends who’d gone to college and were part of the way through already. I was three years late, relative to high school.

So the first semester was about taking basic requirements or things like the first of the math classes I needed to be ready if I had to take more advanced ones. That was going to be the case for most majors. Then i discovered that under the earth sciences department had started a management science program and I could major in that. Otherwise it might have been earth science or computer science, though for CS it would have been necessary to get a better professor than I actually had for CS101 when I took it to satisfy a requirement for the management degree. I got a C- in that only because my biggest crush of college, Sarah, helped me enough to pass with a C, even as she got a D+ herself. She started out as a CS major, but that didn’t last. But this is not about her. That could be multiple other posts. I think I find her so embarrassing that I had put her out of my mind. I hadn’t even given her a pseudonym when I created the list I refer to for posts here.

Anyway, second semester I took the first management science class, then the fall semester my second year I piled them on, taking three, one of which was Accounting 1. That was where I met Maddie. I ended up helping her with accounting, so she passed, but she ended up taking it as a summer class at Salem State the next year and doing vastly better. I guess it was kind of a slow burn. The next semester she was in my art (history/overview, not hands on) class that was the only one I had in a big lecture hall. Loved it. She was also in my US history class. We sat together in art and wrote notes back and forth to each other in our notebooks. Over the winter, she’d be sick, then I’d be sick, then she’d be sick, back and forth to the point where it was comical. I was surprised how jealous I would get if she was talking to another guy. Compared to how it could have been, it was really no more than being buddies. We did go for ice cream, then I took her to dinner and afterward some of her dorm friends were going to a movie so we went with them. Don’t even remember what. That was when I wished I had my own place and wasn’t living at my father’s, because my stepmother didn’t care how old I was, I was still a kid and under her roof.

So that’s pretty much 1984 as the main part of it. We met in fall of 1983. One of her songs is Obsession by Animotion. Another one is Run, Run Away by Slade. I love the part that goes “if you’ve got a crush, don’t beat around the bush. When I’ve got a crush run runaway.”

I am sure I’m forgetting something, but the big one is Borderline by Madonna. I can’t listen to it because it makes me feel so bad, so guilty. “Stop playing with my heart. Finish what you start.” That was me, not getting serious and finishing what I had started. Or what was my place to continue, anyway, since starting things had been the most mutual it’s ever been. The other girl I dated to speak of wasn’t waiting for me to notice or anything. I wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t put herself forward.

If I think of anything I forgot, I’ll add it. I need to go to bed after a quick look at this to be sure there are no glaring needs for editing.

Nothing Lasts Forever But The Earth And Sky

As I was driving to the dentist, I had to pause for someone to turn to go to the athletic fields behind my childhood elementary school. For some reason, that sparked my thinking of how fast things go, and how they pass. An instant story in my head of a parent obsessed with what their kid was doing in elementary school made me think about how few years that represents, and the fact you’d be moving on from it, or finding yourself crazy.

I’ve had similar thoughts before, and have possibly even mentioned them here. Pretty sure I talked about how quickly the kids grew through stages and suddenly had moved on, sometimes leaving me feeling like I had missed something, or covered that phase inadequately.

Dust in the Wind lyrics aside, in the even longer run, even the earth and sky aren’t forever. We may not be around to see it, nor may our descendants. But flame-out of the sun or heat death of the universe or such are not what I am on about here.

It becomes easier to bear things that might seem less bearable, once you grasp, or if you remember at the time, that this too shall pass. I’ve always had issues with change, of course. Which is funny, for someone who grew up to understand and embrace the economic concept of creative destruction. It was devastating for me to lose my woods around our house, but it wasn’t our land. For a long time, I wanted to become rich enough to buy out the mobile home park that had been built there, buy out all the residents, and send it back to nature, as close as I could to what it had been. Yet is was predictable that something would happen with that prime land. It was arguably a much better use than, say, a development of 100 houses. In some alternate timeline exists the campground I wanted to put on part of the land while conserving the rest.

Hate your job? It’s not forever. Broke? It’s not forever. Stuck with a crazy marriage? It’s not forever. Bad day at work? Tomorrow will be another day. Hate who’s in office? Unless you wanted enough of a revolution to change the constitution and elect a dictator, such a popular move on the part of dupes around the world, there will be another election down the road.

It’s not always easy, even if you know this. When you’re young, you don’t. It’s all urgent. Of course, you are also helping to drive, so you can make change happen if it needs, or make things more or less bearable while you wait. It can be hard to remember that reality as we experience it is a construct in which we all have a hand.

It has seemed a long time already, and a short time, but in six short years my youngest will be at the end of high school. That’s no time! I’ve held the same job for almost ten and a half years. That’s probably absurd, but during much of that it was arguably the best option. It’s not necessarily now. Even if I don’t actively seek to change it, it’s not forever. If I really had to, even without having identified what I want to do when I grow up,* I could find something to replace it and possibly improve on it.

Please be patient with your life, as the Bee Gees might say.

* There are things I did over the years that are now “my heyday” that I would never have expected to be the high points of my life or career. It makes me wonder if this happened to people like my grandfather, with his stories of being a supervisor at shoe factories. Did he figure there’d be more, or was that just fine and he never regretted that being all there was? Makes me wonder.

DVD

I ordered a region-free Melody DVD that is supposed to have the option of English or Korean subtitles. It’ll take a while to get here. It’ll be nice to see it in a crisp resolution at a larger format than YouTube. Since I learned when trying to watch the Bohemian Rhapsody DVD my brother gave me that the DVD drive on my computer is barfing, I’ll either need to get something to watch it with, or use the Xbox. Since I have to do that anyway, I have a crazy plan to make the kids watch it and get their reactions. I figure I’ll give them a small stipend to get their cooperation. It’s nothing they’d ever sit still for otherwise. We can watch while their mother isn’t home, and I can report what they have to say about it here. We’ll see how that goes. I’m curious to see what the DVD might have for extras besides the movie itself, and whether there’s anything I haven’t already seen online.

Mental Health Days

Can be hard to distinguish from sick days, at times. You wouldn’t ever think to take the day off if you felt 100%, but feeling like crap, aching, and not having had enough sleep aren’t always enough to make you throw in the towel unless you just can’t face it today.

Free Range Kids

It annoys me that there has to be an expression to describe “free range children.” Back in the olden days, we simply called them children. Yes, not a Melody post! But that inspired it, because it’s such a dramatic image of another time and place. The past is, after all, another country, and that was another country and in the past. It was also a different environment from the one I grew up in, city instead of rural.

I learned to ride a bike when I was 8, rather old because of my mild physical retardation from meningitis as an infant. I believe I talked about this in one post or another in the past few weeks. Once I could ride, that was it! I was gone! I had wings. Nobody thought a thing of my riding three miles to visit friends.

Even before that, though, I was walking all over the woods, to the nearest beach, to the store (over a mile away), and of course to the bus. We had to walk a third of a mile just to get the bus to school. It was rare and frigid for me to get a ride. My mother walked me to the bus, which stopped even farther away, for the town’s version of kindergarten. That was for a short time during the summer before first grade. It gave them a chance to teach us how to go to school and give us some bare preliminaries. Which was funny for me, since I already knew how to read. I don’t remember ever not knowing how to read, so I would guess I learned sometime in the 3-4 years old range. It was physical retardation. After that I walked with my older siblings for first grade, with my sister for second grade, and by myself thereafter. My kids had to walk to elementary school just a little farther than my walk to the bus. We ended up being expected to walk with them through third grade, even though they were considered fine to walk home by themselves.

Someone called the cops on the youngest when he went out to play with a kid about three houses down the street at the age of about 5. That was a little young, but it was also close, with a sidewalk and not busy street. I never did figure out who called. We taught the kids from a young age not to dash into the street and how to cross safely if they needed to. Compared to where I grew up, it’s downright urban, but really it’s a quaint old factory town’s downtown, the outskirts of it, basically suburbia, in a town that ranges to pure rural, cranberry bogs, and thick woods.

Circa first and second grade, I hung out with a kid, Reggie, who lived about a mile from the end of our street (end of our street being the bus stop, 1/3 of a mile from our house). He was on the other side of the main intersection and only traffic light in town. The big business at the junction was a liquor store/variety story with a gas pump. While we spent some time in his house, mostly we ranged around outside. We freely crossed the street. We walked back along the main road most of the way back to my street. We would collect bottles to turn in at the store so we could get ice cream bars or candy. Nobody thought the slightest thing of it that six or seven year old kids were doing this. That would have been about 1967-1968.

I think the last time anyone worried about my going walkabout was when I “went to pick blueberries” when I was 3 and it was the wrong time of year. The dog went with me. Then they went out in the woods and swamp to find me. I gather I wondered what all the fuss was about. Since my father’s business was maybe a tenth of a mile or so up the street from us, I would range between there and the house, almost as early as that age. I’ll never forget being no more than 5 and rushing down the path that was a shortcut between the two, trying to get home and failing. The business had an outhouse. The outhouse tended to attract hornets and I didn’t like it anyway. What a mess! I remember my mother cleaning me up while I stood in the bathroom sink. At least if all we had to do was pee, well, we lived in the woods. The world was our urinal.

I had to save this so I could go to bed on time. It’s always disorienting to pick back up on something like this after it has sat. If it veers off from this point even more than usual, that’s why.

Actually, I can remember going up the street to a building my grandfather worked out of, not long before he was disabled for good, and riding down the street with him on a giant bulldozer. I probably wasn’t even 4 yet then. I know i was extremely young and it’s one of those super early but vivid memories. He had worked for the original owner of all the land around us, who died two years before I was born. He had actually been involved in draining the swamp and building cranberry bogs many of the adult relatives would be employed on during harvest when I was little. We would hang out and watch, maybe hand pick rogue cranberries from the banks around the bogs. The house I grew up in was built for the guy he’d worked for, whose wife then refused to move there. That was how my grandparents came to buy it. My parents took it over when my grandparents couldn’t afford the payments. Originally they had planned to buy land and build a new house across the street. Weirdly, that house exists in my head, along with an imaginary house that never existed on a rise on the other side of the swamp from where we were. Both of those are yellow, whereas the house we ended up in was always white. The house on the other side of the swamp would appear in dreams when I was a kid, with us living in it. It wasn’t something I simply imagined. The house we didn’t build is more a matter of imagining it, knowing it could have happened, rather than it being pure fiction of my subconscious.

Anyway, when I was a kid, I walked all over. I rode my bike all over. When my father’s shop was in another part of town, I walked there from school some days. There was no special permission needed to leave school on foot rather than bus one day.

By the same token, if we were absent from school we were absent. Daniel and Melody didn’t go to school that day and paid the price later. In my case, we were supposed to take a note to the office the next day. I remember that in high school, but not in elementary. However, I seldom missed school in elementary. I was sickly after moving to the house I grew up in, mysteriously, and they eventually injected me with gamma globulin as an experiment to see if it’d help my immunity. It was years before I was sick again to any degree. Then I was sickly the last two years of high school and beyond, to varying degrees ever since. Since the cause became clear after a while, that provided insight into the mystery of my chronic ailment when I was very young, and why (I found out later) it didn’t start until after we moved. Also, it didn’t actually not affect me during the years after the gamma globulin. It just stuck to the more subtle aspects.

If one of my kids missed school, especially elementary, you had to call by a certain time. Like calling out sick from work. In middle school you just call the office, rather than there being a special voicemail line for it. If you don’t call them, they call you to find out if you know your kid isn’t at school. After all, kidnapping! Is! Rampant! Or something.

While my kids are mostly homebodies, they do stuff like walk to the store. The major street between us and many things you might want to walk to is not for the faint of heart, but between us and downtown, and to cross either main road downtown, is not so bad. The oldest is 14. She had a good friend not all that far away, and would walk there, but the friend’s mother kind of freaked out at the idea of doing so, especially in the dark. Conversely, the day her kid got off the late bus and came here, her mother called the police to come get her and was completely freaked out. Granted, the kid was messing with her mother by having her phone’s “battery die so she couldn’t call.” Probably just as well the kids had a falling out. You get too restrictive, then you have offspring who explode later. My kids wouldn’t feel like they couldn’t ask to go, or tell us where they were going. They aren’t as free range as I was in part because they don’t care as much, and in part because it’s a different place and time. At least we’re not stopping them, and they’re all old enough that nobody should be reporting them as unaccompanied kids as so many idiots have done with no good reason.

When I watch Melody, it’s awesome to see the kids roaming around London. They’re not only going to and from school, but also gallivanting around otherwise. It’s awesome to see two 11/12 year olds able to hop on a train and go to the seaside – on a school day! – and nobody questions it. Nobody wonders why they are hanging around at the beach, going on rides, riding the train, all without an adult. Or nobody wonders enough to call the authorities, anyway. that’s old enough that even here and now they might be fine. We’re nominally walking distance from the commuter rail to Boston and points between here and there. Two of the kids are old enough to ride as unaccompanied minors, and would probably receive little or no scrutiny.  In theory, one of them could decide to walk over to the station and pop up to Boston for the day, as long as they had the money. It’s kind of the equivalent. At the actual and apparent age of Melody and Daniel, that wouldn’t be possible. The youngest might even pass for old enough, if it came to it. I can’t see why any of them would think to do that, but it’s there.

When I was 14 and 15, I was riding my bike to high school, about five miles. I was riding to my friend’s house, an additional maybe two miles. I was riding to buzz around Ella’s house, go to the next town north from there, or a couple towns east of there, to watch drum and bugle corps practices, and I was riding home, often in the dark. The power of love. Google tells me the ride straight home from the far flung east practice would be about 7.4 miles. From the northern practice spot straight home would be about 9.6 miles. From the launching point where the group would go to practice, just a few houses from Ella’s, it’d be 5.9 miles to or from home. From there to the eastern practice spot would be about would be about 7.3 miles. So I’d go 5.9 miles, then 7.3 miles, then from there home 7.4 miles, all to stalk Ella and get those extra looks at her and see her in action, wielding a flag or a wooden rifle as part of a choreographed performance. All to the tune of MacArthur Park. It was a bit obsessive. No wonder I related so much to the boy in Endless Love when I read it several years later, and when I saw the film. Even though that was a sexual obsession and it hadn’t occurred to me yet that I ought to be after that as part of it.

I digress. But my point is I was still a freshman in high school, 14 turning 15, and I was everywhere. At that time in my life, I thought it’d be the Best Thing Ever to ride a bike across the whole country. It’d be cool, still, but I’m kind of used to driving. I’d love to drive across the country again, and glad I got even a marginal chance to do it once.

Do kids ride around like that these days? Even in the name of love? Maybe I’d have been glued to video games if we’d had them then. Who knows. Maybe technology moots the whole thing.

Recess

One thing that struck me in Melody was that in secondary school they have what are called breaks, which in elementary school are called recess here. Once I was past 6th and my kids were past 5th grade, in jr high school and middle school, there was no recess. In the movie it’s the equivalent of the first year of middle/high school. They have a morning break, even if we see no later one.

That could be there to fuel the plot, but I’d consider it more likely that such a thing existed at the time and thus was incorporated into the plot. That makes more sense than inventing it.

Given the amount of steam kinds have to blow off in the movie, it’s probably just as well.

We could have met the kids at school and seen some antics other ways than the break shown early in the film, but it worked well to introduce the gang of girls around Melody. Kissing Mick Jagger would have lacked context without it. The wedding, though, required the kids to go on break and not come back. Not sure how that many snuck away, with staff and older students monitoring, but then I still don’t know how Daniel and Melody left their houses “for school” dressed in street clothes and packed for a day of fun without being noticed. Besides adults being oblivious old miseries.

Anyway, it was just one of those things I found curious. By 5th grade, at least two of my kids didn’t care about recess. I was never a big fan, but I wasn’t one to run around wildly, and it was a social minefield. I didn’t want to go out there because there were people! OMG!  We didn’t have to work as hard as the kids in the movie seem to be required to, so they ought to need the break more than we did. For my kids, it is more like depicted in Melody, maybe more so, and was even before middle school. For my generation the teaching was lax, at least in my school system. Lucky we’re not a bunch of raving imbeciles.

 

What Do They Talk About?

I just remembered a topic about Melody (which I refuse to refer to as SWALK or S.W.A.L.K. because the distribution company that renamed it that was idiotic) (though if you watch the end of the film you see an artifact of even the filmmakers having thoughts of alternate names, on the screen where it says “To Love Somebody” toward the upper left and the Melody signature appears to the lower right) (But I digress parenthetically, isn’t that annoying?) that I might have mentioned in other contexts, but haven’t given its own attention.

What do Melody and Daniel talk about when they are together, to the extent they talk?

There’s a lot to be said for the glow of simply being together, and they fell for each other without needing to date, converse, and get to know each other. But it’s not like they’re going to move on to horizontal communication if they run out of things to say and the glow isn’t enough.

I know, I know. Petty details. Just enjoy the story.

Up to the point when she waits for him and snatches him from Tom Ornshaw, I believe the extent of verbal communication between them has been, first, his asking to sit with her at lunch and her response. If Ornshaw hadn’t dragged him to the other table, maybe more words would have been exchanged. Not like she wasn’t interested. Second, his asking her to dance. Anything else was looks exchanged, as far as we are shown.

They talk on the way to the spot in the cemetery where they sit, but we don’t know what they say. They have the famous scene that we get to witness. They talk on the way to her house, but we hear music, and at least part of it has to do with crossing the street and maybe intentionally sneaking across without the cop.

They don’t talk to each other during tea, in front of her family, at least on camera. Who knows how long he’s there or what else transpires. Obviously they had to talk enough to plan the day of skipping school together, however long after that was.

What always bothers me is the conversation sitting in the shelter when it rains. It’s the kind of thing you might expect from kids in school. What class would you be in right now makes sense, but since school would be the thing they have most in common to talk about, by then you might think they’d have talked about subjects they like or hate. When they’re building the sand castle, they talk about their families and trips, and what they are doing. That’s where the topic of getting married comes up, and she sounds sensible about it. They both have a feel for how miserable people can become with age. Perhaps that adds impetus when they become so keen on marrying now.

I see them running out of things to say pretty quickly. They can talk about things they like or do, such as his painting. Arguably the film could have been written to include having him paint her. They need a better understanding of what their future options may be before they can talk a lot about what they want to do in the future.

Maybe I’m just being an old misery, being pessimistic. I am reminded of the last and primary date I went on with the third of my Melody girls, Maddie. It was very uncomfortable, sitting in a restaurant in Salem, just kind of staring at her because I had absolutely no idea what to say. Now, that could be partly just me and my autistic leanings, but we really didn’t have much in common. Right about then, it really did need to segue into something physical, or else end. For better or worse, I did the equivalent of going to the arcade with Ornshaw instead of catching the hints (like playing Physical on the jukebox, duh). I was put off by the lack of anything in common to make for conversation. I hadn’t even seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s yet. Heh. I also perceived her as being considerably less intelligent, and that was a turn off, even had she been even cuter than she was. And she was, but I have learned in my life that people wind up closer later than they seem younger, as their brains sort of… power up… at different rates. She eventually became pretty successful, both beautiful and well preserved, and, as near as I can tell, not straight.

My point is having nothing much to talk about can be brutal. The fact that they would have each other and be essentially growing up together the rest of they way might inherently give them common ground. The fact that she is jovial and a talker, while he is moodier, quieter, perhaps more maudlin, might mean that she manages to carry the conversational duties.

The wife and I never run out of things to say. It’s entirely possible that in about six year or so we’ll find ourselves apart, but it’s hard to picture just on that basis. It would have been wonderful if combined with the kind of romantic love Daniel and Melody have. Not sure what I’d do with that! Besides want to get married and stay that way forever.

Update:

I thought I had added an update to this. I later thought about myself at around that age with my friend Zack, and the fact we absolutely never ran out of things to talk about. We didn’t even go to the same school, so we had attending the same grade in common, but not the same grade together. It might not be as bad as I’d been thinking. It’s just that it needed to be put into what would fit the script.

Update 2:

I had added an update! To the wrong post. Duh! So below is the text that I had meant as the update that I attempted to redo above.

Thinking about this subsequently, I realized that when I was that age, my best friend Zack and I never ran out of things to talk about. It’s the closest I can come up with tot he same relationship at about the same age. In reality, all that distinguishes it from being the same is that he wasn’t a girl. It was emotionally intense. The kids in the movie would rapidly be, if nothing else, best friends, or it wouldn’t last anyhow. I may have taken too much from a more adult scenario of tentatively establishing a relationship and not knowing what to say to have an engaging conversation. Still, I’m also thinking of their limited worldview versus the type of relationship – sex entirely aside, since even when you’re older there has to be much more to it or it can’t last and be stable – represented by actual marriage.

Ages In Melody

I was thinking. I know, sounds dangerous. Unless I am mistaken, we are never given a definite age for the kids in the movie. Right? There are now two references that come at the possible ages indirectly.

One is when Melody is inconsolable with her parents, after the bad day that followed the day they skipped school to go to the seaside. When told that people generally wait to see if they like each other when they’re older, she asks how old. Her father says “in their twenties, older sometimes.”

She plaintively says “but that’s twice as old as I am now.”

Which only tells us she is at least 10, and that much was already obvious. She could be as old as 12 and still shorthand it to “twice as old” in reference to twenties.

We do know that Tracy Hyde’s age was 10 at the very, very beginning of filming in May 1970, and 11 from May 16 through the end of filming in August.

We also know that Mark Lester’s age was 11 when filming started in May, and 12 when filming ended in August, since his birthday was July 11. Probably just as well he was a year older, as it worked well for them to look the same age in the film.

Finally, we know that Jack Wild was 17 during filming, and turned 18 the September 30 not long afterward. He very much looks and seems older in the film, while still looking young enough to pass. In his case, actual age of the actor tells us nothing.

Now that I know what the headmaster is actually saying to Melody after Daniel discloses that they want to get married, there is another clue. Which I guess is about what I always took to be implicit. “I assume you’ve already promised your fair, freckled first-form hand in marriage to this young gentleman?”

As I noted, I could never figure out that the headmaster was saying first-form in that exchange. That’s an indication of grade or level in school, or it was at the time. First form in North America is equivalent to 7th grade. The surviving British term seems to be sixth form, but in that article it notes:

Pupils started their first year of secondary school in the first form or first year, and this was the academic year in which pupils would normally become 12 years of age.

In the US the year for turning 12 would ordinarily be 6th grade, or the 7th year of school including kindergarten. In a typical system with a middle school, that would be the first of three middle school years. I went to a jr high system, so elementary went through 6th grade, jr high was 7th and 8th, and then it was four years of high school. I think the system that ends at 10th grade, or 11th year, makes a lot of sense. A lot of high school was repetition or boredom, and that could be a good point to separate out the harder core academic track students from those who would pursue a more vocational or job training path. But I digress.

I had always imagined this as 5th grade, and thus particularly early, based on their ages. Further, it is obviously late in the school year, based on my analysis of the timeline from various cues. That’s a big difference, 5th to 6th. You could say that was the leap from cooties to not cooties, generally speaking. It didn’t take a stretch to imagine a similar story happening to me in 5th grade. For 6th it would just have been a matter of being one of the lucky guys who had a girlfriend. There was one I knew of in just my classroom, which was one of four or five classrooms for the grade.

In Melody, the kids actually seem younger and more innocent than that, except sometimes they don’t.

I’ve seen reviews or commentaries that range from describing the kids as 10 years old to 12 years old. Then again, I’ve seen reviews that made me wonder if the reviewer actually watched the film. Sort of the equivalent of dashing off a last minute book report for school based largely on the jacket description and what you imagine was in the book, or get from opening and reading a couple paragraphs in a few places and maybe the conclusion.

Speaking of conclusion, I think what I should probably conclude is that they are in the equivalent of 6th grade, AKA 7th year, and that if they are 11 in the film, they won’t remain so much longer. It all works with the skilled depiction of showing the two of them growing up dramatically over a short time. For that matter, it’s not clear either of them were still comfortable acting as young kids even when they still were shown that way. Melody was out of place with the gang of little kids mobbing the rag man. It was just… what she knew at the time.

So I’m going to call them 11, but high side. I am prepared to believe that Tom Ornshaw was actually older, maybe by a year. Wiser, if not. He’s a study all by himself. Bright but treated as stupid. Clearly older in outlook and wisdom than his form one cohort. I’m going to call them 6th grade.

AWstats

To get an idea of traffic here, I normally look at AWStats through the Cpanel utility on the web hosting. It drives me crazy, though, because it can be so hard to tell what’s actually going on. In theory, it gives you search strings that were used to get here. In reality, it doesn’t return enough of those to correspond to the traffic it claims comes from Google alone. In turn, the referrals from Google and other such things aren’t remotely enough to account for total traffic. At least it’s generally possible to get an idea of what the real traffic is, versus the traffic hitting from nefarious sources for reasons having nothing to do with reading my keen and witty insights.

One thing that surprises me is the amount of traffic that seems associated with feed readers. In the heyday of blogs, that would be a given. On a blog that went many years being mostly neglected, and that had much of its contents stripped in a change of CMS, and most of the rest stripped in a change of direction, that lost much of its readership all the way back in 2004… I think it was 2004… When the wife was hot to switch to a clever new domain and name after less than a year here. I’m just surprised that there seem to be so many, in effect, subscribers for me to bore because I won’t stop mentioning that Melody movie and such.

On the other hand, there are no comments, besides a few a day of spam comments. This could be because there’s nothing to say, but they certainly are enabled. I’d see it if any were held for moderation, which is the default if you haven’t commented before and been approved. I was a little nervous about comments, in case I say something unforgivably stupid again. On the other hand, if I lose my mind unawares, that’s a quick way for me to find out and mitigate any public displays of ignorance.

Anyway, it’s a shame Site Meter died many years ago. That was always the standard, and if not perfect, gave useful info. I don’t think I have this on Google Analytics, though I could add it if not, but I’ve never found that information particularly helpful. If nothing else, I’m not generally interested in hitting gnats with sledgehammers.

Concerts

I’ve never been a huge concert goer. Or is that concertgoer? Well, the second version passes as a correct spelling. Anyway, I nonetheless have gone to several over the years.

My oldest has already been to three. I think it’s three. That has been the wife’s gig, going with her to things they both like. I have been advised that if The Scorpions ever come up as a concert option, then it will be my job. The kid is a fan of all things German in the first place, and they ended up on her radar. Her last Christmas present this year was a super cool Scorpions T-shirt that finally arrived from Thailand in February. It gets worn a lot.

For me the band was part of the small German invasion that coincided with my four semesters of not learning a whole lot of German in college. The oldest has more from Duolingo than I maybe ever had, though it did leave me able to see a German word and pronounce it correctly. It doesn’t sound alien to me, and I might follow a little here and there. Then again, I could say similar about Spanish, working with so much of it around me. Nor does French sound alien, after three years of it in secondary school, learning it almost as successfully as I did German. The other artist of note that hit from Germany during college was Nina, with neun und neunzig Luftballons, AKA 99 Red Balloons in English. Anyway, I have owned their greatest hits for ages and had been more of a fan of the big hits, as tends to happen with me. I’ve listened a little deeper since the oldest got interested.

My last concert was the original lineup  (well, classic lineup anyway, with both Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings) of the Guess Who at South Shore music Circus in 2005, coming up on 14 years ago, courtesy of my older brother. At that time, I thought it was kind of dramatic that I’d not been to a concert since around 1996, and at least as long before that. Ha! The Guess Who was astoundingly good, doing Bachman-Turner Overdrive  hits as well as their own. You’d never know their heyday was 30+ years before. I’m so glad I went.

The concert before that was with my sister and brother-in-law. He’s a huge Styx fan, and saw them many times in concert. This was a Great Woods, with Pat Benatar opening for them. I remember the ticket was $35, and I don’t think it was later than 1997 or earlier than 1996. When Pat Benatar was done, I declared her alone to have been worth the price. She, and her husband on guitar, were just amazing. My brother in law told me I hadn’t seen anything yet. He was right. Styx, not quite the original lineup due to the unfortunate death of Chuck Panozzo. And since that was in 1996 and had been a year or two before the concert, that places it in 1997 or maybe 1998. It had been recent enough that the other guys sat on stage for a spell to talk about and memorialize him. I am so glad I saw them, both acts.

My first concert was The Beach Boys. The wife shares that distinction, but on the other coast. It was winter or early spring 1979, toward the end of my senior year. I had a car and was going to drive my friend Perry, but something happened so I couldn’t. I have no idea how the connection was made, but somehow my mother found out that a long time close friend’s daughter, my younger brother’s age, was going and they’d be driving her and her boyfriend. We could ride with them. That worked out. The concert didn’t blow me away or anything. It was mainly significant because I had never been to a concert and had no idea what it would be like. That was at the Providence Civic Center. It was my single most frequented concert venue.

Unless I am forgetting something, my second concert was the Bee Gees. That stands out more than average. It was August 28, 1979, the same day I started my first job that wasn’t self-employment. It turned out that my new boss went to that same concert that same night. Something like ten of us went together, in two cars. I drove one and my older brother drove the other. We were behind the stage, to your left side if you were out in the audience facing the stage. It was a little weird, but we might have been 30 feet from Barry Gibb. He tossed his sweat towel up to us near the end and there was a tussle over it. One of my cohorts had a pocket knife and was able to cut it into little pieces so a bunch of people, including my friend Joan who was there with Perry, could each have some of it. They and I were probably the very biggest fans of the band in the gang of us who went. I think the tour was in support of Spirits Having Flown, and they didn’t seem enthusiastic to do their older stuff that was my primary attraction. Some of the songs they did bits of in a medley, which was nice but disappointing. They did Words in full, but then Barry got visibly angry when he paused just before the end and people kept him from continuing by applauding too enthusiastically.

On the way home, I was following my brother. He got mixed up, got annoyed and was speeding after he got us turned around. The pair of us got pulled over by a pair of Rhode Island state cops who were brothers. That $30 ticket was my second and last speeding ticket to date. Within the next couple years I got a repair ticket from a cop in Belchertown, looking for U. Mass. students to torment as they passed through the town, for a headlight out.  I wasn’t one of those, but I’d been visiting Frank, who was. I replaced my sealed beam unit and then my father’s friend with a garage signed off on it.

I am beyond glad I got to see a Bee Gees concert, skimping on older songs aside. They have always been one of my favorite groups. I can remember vividly where I was in the house the first time I recall hearing I Started a Joke when I was little. My vinyl got destroyed, but until it did, I had collected everything I found by them. I had Odessa.I had the Rare, Precious and Beautiful albums. They’d done a serviceable version of Turn Around, Look At Me that could be found on one of those, predating my favorite version, an all time favorite song, by The Vogues. It’s nice to be able to catch a lot of that on YouTube these days, if nothing else.

That’s enough on concerts for now. There were others in between, some more memorable or awesome than others, but I probably won’t remember them in the correct order after this. Except I’m pretty sure I can identify my third and fourth from last ones, as they were well separated from the earlier ones, and had a connection to each other.

Rich or Reg?

Oh man, I found a decent transcript of Melody, and it’s great because I learned some things, but also need to go through and hear the words again. There are definite mistakes in the transcript, though not many. I even got some of the stuff I couldn’t hear at all before. I even found out where we learn that Ornshaw is named Tom, and learned Peggy’s last name.

The one that’s got me going is that I was sure I heard Mrs. Perkins (whose name may be Flo if I follow the transcript right) call her husband “Rich.” The transcript has it as “Reg.” Then it uses “Reg’ afterward to refer to at least one line of his dialogue.

It’s too late at night to play the parts I want, so I’ll update this after I do that.

Another find is part of a sentence I could never make out because it made no sense to me, but that puts the kids in an older grade level than I had them pegged in based on their age. By their age, I would have them in 5th grade, in the US, which would be 6th year in England. Tale end of the year. “First form” is seventh grade, or was when the terminology was used. Or maybe that’s seventh year, which would be sixth grade in the US. That wouldn’t be so far off.  The transcript line in question is the headmaster saying:
“I assume you’ve already promised your fair, freckled first-form hand in marriage to this young gentleman?”

First-form. I could never tell it was first-form. The whole question is a little odd anyway, but all I could figure he was saying was “first born.” While seemingly true – first and only – it didn’t make sense. The headmaster referring to her grade level would make sense.

Anyway, I’ll have to see if I can do a combination of turning the sound up and lip reading for the Reg/Rich question. I can’t usually read lips well. Sometimes it’s obvious. After Daniel passes out upon winning the 220 while thinking of Melody, we see someone saying something to Melody and her, getting serious, saying “what!” That could be interpreted to mean someone saying what happened to him. Or it could just be one final look at her being the center of attention of a group of friends.

Update:
I couldn’t wait. It’s clearly Reg, watching that exact bit with an ear out for the difference, and watching her lips.

I’m also amused by the “he’s out on bail” line, which I had never heard enough to catch. The transcript says Melody snickers, but it’s very subtle. I take it to be a joke about him being home from the pub.

It’s hard to hear, still, but it seems like it’s correct that Granny calls Melody’s mother Flo.

And yes, I can hear where Ornshaw is called Tom, but only because I know it’s there.

I confirmed that Melody says “I’m always the last to know.” A different transcript says that she said “I mean, I was the last to know.” That would make a bit more sense to me, complaining about the specific case rather than always.

Aisling Bea

I had never heard of Aisling Bea before. Charles is right. She’s absolutely beautiful. Her standup routine embedded in his post is hysterically funny. Also, I could listen to her talk with that accent all day. The message to her late father, a suicide when she was 3, is touching and a great reminder. I wouldn’t want to be absent to see how some things turn out. It’s bad enough that history begins when we are born.

Math

Last Sunday the daughter and I were talking to Naomi’s stepfather at the party we attended. He used to be a teacher and was excited that she was so interested in science, currently being most interested in being a geologist. He actually sent her home with a hunk of lava rock that I believe he got from Mt. St. Helens, though I could be mixing the origin up with his story of having climbed up the mountain not too long after the eruption.

We talked about how much the kids love math. The oldest will be taking a double track in 9th grade, one of a few students selected by the head of the math department at the high school for that program. The middle school has an advanced math program you can be in for 7th and 8th grade, so you come out of 8th grade having already covered algebra. Two of the kids are doing that and I expect the third will as well, since if anything he tends to make it seem even easier than the other two. When he’s not being lazy. So the oldest will do geometry and algebra II in 9th grade, and go on from there. That one wants to be a math major, and has been learning calculus independently.

The other one cooks and, especially, bakes. On Friday she tempered some chocolate and piped it into pi symbols. So we have a little bowl of tasty chocolate pi symbols, and a few in the shape of 3.14, in the freezer so they can’t melt.

When we were talking about it, I told Naomi’s father I had a “complicated relationship with math.” I love the idea of it and some of the concepts, but I had some mighty bad math teachers over the years and could be lazy at things I couldn’t just breeze through by being more intelligent than average. Or I would simply not lift a finger at anything I objected to doing at the time. The oldest has that last and to some degree the other problem at times. The youngest has the lazy if it’s not easy problem. The middle learned to work and will go far, since she has the brains as well. She was the one who had to learn that because the early days of school were a struggle and she had to have help and training to handle it.

I went through elementary school ranging from good, really good, to hopeless at math. It can take me time, and I tend to need to grok things conceptually. In 3rd grade, we were expected to memorize multiplication tables. Evil! Lousy math teacher plus that, forget it. Now I can… it’s hard to describe… see and feel what the numbers do in multiples. I’d have been helped, perhaps, if someone had pointed out that multiplication is addition and division is subtraction. When the kids were in school, I could see as early as first grade them being prepared for concepts like that, sets, and solving for a missing number when you already know the answer.

I don’t remember much about jr high, except that it reinforced things we’d covered and introduced or continued things to prepare us for algebra. Algebra in 9th grade was hell. Even after I’ve been all the way through college, that teacher is in a small rogue’s gallery of Worst Teachers Ever. The other two that come to mind right away are a 7th grade science teacher who was rumored to like sleeping with the jr high girls (most likely untrue, as these things go, but there was smoke), and a college professor I had for Pascal (Computer Science 101), who mostly taught math. I sometimes rank as horrible a professor I had for Accounting II, Advance Accounting, Business Law II, Federal Taxation, and Auditing, but he wasn’t in their league. For him it was more a weirdness of teaching method, use of teaching college for indoctrination, and philosophical differences.

Then I hit 10th grade, had an amazing Geometry teacher, was one of the top two students in the class, and the teacher tried to get the school to accept the two of us belatedly in to the advanced math program. I had mixed feelings about that and was just as glad the answer was no, since I felt like an imposter. In 11th grade I got sick, which is another story. I missed 48 days of school that year, was not up to braining the way I’d been in 8th, 9th, and even 10th grades, and still did adequately in Algebra II with a teacher who was super nice but just adequate at teaching. She drove me home after school a few times, I forget how I came to need a ride, because she was already going that way.

In 12th grade I was even sicker. With high hopes, I took the Trig and Pre-Calc class that was with the awesome Geometry teacher. I promptly dropped it because I was sure I was an imposter and would never be able to handle the class or the overall workload. Also I expected it to end badly because I was still sick. I missed 78 days of school through March, after which I dropped out with the couple months left before graduation. All I needed for graduating was to pass English, in which as I recall I was running an A, and Gym, which as I recall I had blown off. Plus one year of school they accidentally didn’t schedule me for it and I never said a word, and by then the state had made passing four years of phys ed mandatory to graduate. They needed to support the state college system’s big business of pumping out gym teachers. I might have hung in there if I had both of those and wouldn’t have faced taking summer school for the hated Gym, of all things. I was already not going to get my vocational certificate, since they had strict attendance requirements. I was fed up with school and there was the GED option available. I just had to wait until after my class had formally graduated to be allowed to take it.

When I went to college three years later, I needed to start over. I ended up taking Algebra and then a trig/pre-calc class, which were fine and really good. But I was required to take two semesters of watered down Calculus, plus semesters of Stats and “Quantitative Methods for Management.” That last one, MA318 by course number, allegedly needed the others as prerequisites. It didn’t. Not even close. It was easy. Reasonably so, anyway. What happened to me with Calculus was I’d start taking it, feel overwhelmed, and drop the class without dropping the class, thereby taking an F. Take away classes like those and my GPA would be considerably higher. Eventually I muddled through it, then the second part. I muddled through Statistics, which made far less sense to me than it should have, but I didn’t want to be there or expend any effort. I don’t remember clearly whether I actually took that twice. I took it with my friend Zack’s favorite math professor, who also wrote the book. That sort of added pressure and made it weird, since there was a lot of tension with Zack, my being two years belatedly at the same college, and my making a pest of myself. This was his god among teachers. If I’d been in the right frame of mind, I would also have thought he was awesome. I can see it, objectively.

I was an accounting major, and people always wondered how in the world I could do that and “not like math.” Two different things! You’re using basic math with the numbers recorded and analyzed in accounting. You’re not using Calculus. Statistics is relevant if you’re doing auditing, which was an incredibly boring class I did well in by reading the entire textbook twice. It was probably the biggest teaching fail for the professor I had for five different classes.

I came out the other end hating math studies but loving math concepts. Weird, right?

Meanwhile, the wife got almost all the way through an engineering degree before she dropped out because she wasn’t good enough. She was at the top of the class. There were other things going on, but she has some of the same anxiety about not being good enough that I do. My father wouldn’t have responded to my getting an A- by wondering why I didn’t get a real A, but my family in various ways had some of the same impact. It happens. She loves calculus. Stats maybe not as much, but she knows vastly more about it than I do. Don’t let the English degree fool you. She’s STEM underneath it.

When the two of us got together, we had the theory that intelligent people should have kids, and we did. On some level, our kids are a long term science experiment in genetics. I suppose all kids are, but we were completely conscious of it. In a way it was dangerous, since we are both possibly on the spectrum ourselves, especially me. We could easily have had autistic kids shades of The Geek Syndrome. Instead they are variants between almost normal and a good bit aspie. It can be riding a tiger, having kids who are “smarter than us,” as the wife put it. They also have resources and opportunities we didn’t. We walk around now with the cumulative knowledge of humanity in our hands. I always wanted to own an encyclopedia so I could read all of it, not just the random volumes of cheapo versions that came from incomplete supermarket volume a week specials.

It takes more than genetics, though.

When I would drive around with the kids when they were young, I would entertain them in the car by having them  answer math questions, or by talking about concepts. That would go on at home, too, but in the car it was a captive audience and they loved it. I wanted none of them to be intimidated by math the way I was after about first grade. So I taught them the concepts of multiplication and division way ahead of time. I taught them about fractions and decimals. I taught them about things like pi. I taught them square and cubes and roots. I helped them be comfortable adding and subtracting larger numbers. All kinds of things like that, especially stuff that could be explained on a car ride, or thrown out as a challenge on a car ride. They knew about negative numbers long before I did. They knew about imaginary numbers, because that went with learning about roots and negatives.

One of the math teachers thought this was awesome when I told her what I’d done when they were younger. I know we talked about other concepts and ideas. It was kind of science and math the way the Kennedy kids might have gathered around and talked politics over dinner with old Joe. Except there’d also be philosophy, politics, history, and whatever. The math is what stands out and was the thing I pointedly used on car rides with the goal of making the comfortable in mind. I didn’t set out to create a kid who would be eager to major in math, though I am proud. It’s a great major and she’ll be following in distinguished footsteps. It fits with our having raised the kids to become adults, knowing there’s a world out there in which they will need to make a living and support themselves. Nobody ever gave me that foundation. Which is funny, because I was much more free range, and in some ways I was older than them at the same age. In others I was much younger.

So yeah. I had a complicated relationship with math. I wanted theirs to be uncomplicated, whether it was anything they loved or not. The oldest helps teach the advanced math class at the moment, by virtue of being the only one who really understands what they are doing. That’s just amazing.

July 7 September 11

It’s crazy the coincidences that happen. In the movie Melody, in the graveyard scene, she reads a gravestone. I always wondered whether it was real and they took advantage of it for the film, or whether it was simply a prop so it would say what it needed to say. It says:

Here lies my
beloved and beautiful
Ella Jane
wife and lifelong friend
thank you for 50 years of happiness
laid to rest
July 7, 1893

Henry James McDevott
gone to join his Ella Jane
September 11, 1893

Probably a prop, since they needed the details to match what the script would do, but perhaps they found the stone and planned around it. It’s really a crucial part of the film, given that it plants the idea that not only does he love her, as he has already been telling people, but will love her for many years and that being in love means being married. The rest of the movie would be completely different if the two of them didn’t decide they really must get married now.

At any rate, this was filmed in 1970 and released in 1971. The dates on the stone are the same as the London bombing of 7/7/2005, and of the notorious 9/11/2001.

Coincidences like it happen all the time. Look how many seemed to predict what happened to the World Trade Center. It’s still a bit wild, catching a detail like that, despite the fact that it has no actual significance.

Zack Songs

One, anyway, but since this super obscure one came to mind, perhaps I’ll cover more. Zack was my best friend during a formative age and one where music really came to the fore. It was the days of hanging out with a transistor radio on the tree house we built. The days when Boston radio meant WRKO… AM. What’s FM? That was still early days, relatively speaking. So the story of Zack is the story of music from 1973 and, mostly, the rest of the seventies, with maybe some that came before and was still a factor.

The obscure song that I associate with him is Sideshow, by Blue Magic. We would hear it on the radio and both liked it, maudlin and slow as it may have been, and as limited in meaning to us personally as it may have been. There’s not much danger of hearing it randomly and being reminded of Zack, since when was the last time anyone played this, right?

There are songs that are categorically connected to Zack. ELO in general, for instance. I believe I had heard and liked ELO, but his appreciation of it was infectious, and rightly so. That was one of the concerts I went to at Boston Garden, with Zack and some others. I purchased the tickets, so I’ll forever have the memory of his sister being angry at me for getting a set of seats that were partially obstructed by a support column. I wouldn’t have had any idea to check for that, but I also can’t really blame her. It was roomy enough, as I recall, that we were able to spread out a bit. That’s the first concert where I ever saw wireless instruments being played. No cords from guitars to amps for players to manage or trip on. That was the tour in support of the amazing Time album. I love when science fiction appears in music.

More specifically, the entire side of Out of the Blue known as Concerto for a Rainy Day, any and all four songs, remind me of Zack. Mr. Blue Sky has achieved lasting popularity and a place in the culture, but is just the final one of the four, in which we snap out of the depressive mood and all is right with the world and life again. It’s all the more meaningful in context.

The other general artist association, or a huge one like ELO anyway, is Olivia Newton-John. Less so the early days, more so songs like Physical, the songs from Xanadu, and Twist of Fate from the otherwise highly forgettable film Two of a Kind. I saw both of those films with Zack, though Grease I had seen with other friends and that’s much less strongly tied to Zack.

Possibly the biggest one of all is Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks. It came out at the right time and had the right tone. We had joy. We had fun. Another big one, which I don’t like the way I did at the time, is Bad, Bad Leroy Brown by Jim Croce. I got to make a fool of myself and we laughed a lot at my not being clear on the words.

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News is a much later one. To this day, I find it hard to hear what is an awesome, catchy song. Zack and Joan used it for their wedding reception, kind of a theme. When we were young, I always looked forward to our respective weddings as wondrous, happy events. I’d be his best man. He’d be my best man. Okay, so I knew by the time we’d known each other a couple years or so that his cousin would be his best man, but hey. Anxiety makes that not necessarily an ideal role for me anyway. Bad enough the anxiety of taking the place of my late uncle in my cousin’s wedding to her first husband in 1988, as the only male relative who made it to Texas for the event.

By the time he was getting married, though, we had grown apart (that is, mostly I had been so annoying) to enough of a degree that I considered myself lucky to be invited, and would almost have been as happy not to go. I am never comfortable at weddings in the first place. It’s hardly surprising that when it was my turn we eloped, so to speak. Then my mother went and held what amounted to a surprise reception months later! The money people gifted us was great, but I still am embarrassed when I think about it. If we’d wanted that, we would have planned that. That’s my mother.

Someone was bothering me so much at the reception that my friend and unlikely old crush Lucy, who was how I’d met Joan so that Zack could meet Joan, stepped in and danced with me so the other person would be thwarted. I don’t dance. I didn’t want to dance with anyone. But better with Lucy, and I survived. And hey, she’s the only girl I ever had a crush on, loved, dated, or whatever, to have danced with me, unless I am having a memory lapse. Hey, it could happen. Age is insidious that way.

Wow, this got out of hand. It’s not that I wasn’t happy for them getting married, yada yada, but at the time I was miserable, and attending it was unpleasant for me. So the song became negative and happy at the same time.

Jeez, now I can’t think of more offhand. Yes I can! Besides Jesus Christ Superstar, which is more from Zack’s mother, but adheres to him by association. She loved that music and that was the main place I heard it. It has to be the Carl Anderson version for me. He was astonishing. I also always associated Queen’s You’re My Best Friend with Zack, even though it’s kind of a relationship song and not a friend song. Because shouldn’t that person be your actual best friend? Along the same lines, Thank You for Being a Friend was one of his songs before Golden Girls ever existed.

Finally, Zack was big on Asia when the band hit the scene. So Asia in general and Heat of the Moment specifically bring him to mind. If only because I particularly like that song and it’s the one I always hear.

If any more come to mind I can mention them over the course of time. This was a great excuse to link a variety of good songs. Most individuals don’t have so many connected to them in my mind. Or in whatever part of the brain it is that makes and retains those connections.

Okay, one more! Life is a Rock! We loved this back in 1974. The linked video is cool for having lyrics, though they go kind of fast. I don’t think I ever caught more than half the references.

The Man of the Hills Waits Here

Another fun music topic is misheard lyrics, which was much more common for me when I was young. I still sometimes intentionally sing the wrong words to Bohemian Rhapsody. The algebra has the devil put aside for me. Yeah, that part. And as a side note, what a legacy that is. One song, bringing unbridled joy to generations. (The eldest stood in the door and listened/sang with me as I played it just now.)

A much more obscure song with an amusing, weird misheard line is Ma Belle Ami, by the Tee Set. (I forgot they were dutch, and for some reason had it in my head that they were Irish. More shocking green than Shocking Blue? But nope, I was wrong.) Great song, which for some reason I connect with my older brother, and with Smile a Little Smile for Me by The Flying Machine (also not Irish – thought I might have been confusing the two bands). Probably a matter of having heard them in his company when I was young, and them having been current in the same basic timeframe.

When I was young, initially and for some amount of time afterward, I heard “the man after him waits here” as “the man of the hills waits here.” In retrospect, that’s a riot. Even more so because I now associate the misheard line with Firefly. There’s an episode where River and Simon disappear, taken by hill people. To this day we joke “it was the best day ever, no hill people required.” Or hill folk, as Jayne says in the actual quote where he’s pretending to read Simon’s diary.

Beware the man of the hills! He waits here, ready to kidnap you! I really don’t know what my ears were thinking. But then, I was young enough that “the man after him…” would have made no more sense than “the man of the hills…”

Speaking of Looking Back

I’ve always loved the Chicago song Old Days. It evokes a wonderful sense of nostalgia, even though to me it was already slightly dated. I missed Howdy Doody being a thing. My older brother watched it as a kid, and I seem to recall my father having fond memories of it, despite having already been 14 when it first aired.

Listening to it today, I was thinking that the old days it described were not that old at the time. Turns out the song released in 1975. I’d have said it was slightly older than that, if I had to guess.

Not it’s 2019. so we are 44 years further removed from the old days of the old days. Isn’t that a kick? For us old people, anyway. Drive-in movies sure take me back! They might mean nothing to folks who are, say, 30. 40? Considering what a significant memory it is for me the first time I went to a sit down theater instead of a drive-in, and how rare that continued to be for a few more years, they fit. Now it’s a novelty.

Anyway, that was all. Just reflecting on the fact that it was possible to look back lovingly on the old days all the way back then, and now the point when the song came out is even older old days than it was about. From 1975, the equivalent was 1931, before my parents had been born.

Twin Double Feature

I had never heard of Evan and Jaron, but in recent days fell in love with Crazy for This Girl after I discovered it. Amusingly, the linked video stars Daphne Zuniga, right on the heels of my having mentioned her movie from back when, The Sure Thing. They are twins. This made me think of another identical twin duo.

MonaLisa Twins are talented young women who do a lot of covers of older songs, notably Beatles, bust also do originals. My favorite of their originals is This Boy Is Mine. I don’t love everything they do, but I like, or even love, quite a bit of it. If you poke through their stuff, you see the evolution, going back to when they were younger and hadn’t come up with the hair colors to create an image and differentiate themselves.

That’s be a great jam session or double bill, pairing the pairs. There’s an age difference, since if I am not mistaken the guys peaked close to twenty years ago, but nothing insurmountable. After all, the girls have worked with John Sebastian .

Dear Walmart

Thanks so much for discontinuing cheese bread and pepperoni cheese bread. I used to buy it almost every time I went in. At least when I went to Paramount Drive. Other stores either didn’t carry it in the first place, or didn’t make it correctly. It turns out it was so popular in the Paramount Drive store that the bakery kept ordering the stuff and making it after it was initially discontinued, up until they couldn’t even order the ingredients any more.

My kids are not amused.

Dear Dove

After trying other shampoos, my daughter discovered Dove Absolute Curls. It was perfect for her hair.

After buying it a few times, I went to get it again and it was gone. It has apparently been discontinued.

Thanks a lot! Between companies like you, Utz (discontinued their amazing Salt & Pepper chips), and Walmart (discontinued their yummy cheese bread and amazing pepperoni cheese bread), the kids are becoming as used to this happening as I have over a lot more years.

Update:

This ended rather well. I went looking for something that was for curls and bought an Aussie product made for curls. She loves it. It works at least as well, and “smells better.”