Whit's Blog / 1000 Recordings

Stoning

Joseph set up Medusa at the lunch table and then claimed to have been turned to stone. It failed to last.

I fold

This is the definitive origami moment for me. From now on, it's downhill. Nothing will ever match the Medusa of December 30, 2005. Three pieces, 60 minutes of fun. ^&*^. 38 years old and I'm through. Send in the paper airplanes.

A Hoot

Joe and I were up on the top of Brown's Hill at Wachusett Meadow today eating a pear and an orange and some cashews. The rain was falling thicker and then not as thickly, and the fog out over the Beaver pond pulled apart like teased cotton balls and then mashed back together. (The fog was still thick back where we live, where it was lower.)

I asked him if he wanted me to try to call some birds. He said sure. I tried my screech owl call, which 7 or 8 years ago actually pulled an owl in on the Niobrara. It's handy to get in juncos and chickadees and others among the avian righteous. And sure enough, we heard some jays, and then some cedar waxwings off in the distance close by (you know what I mean if you know their call). And so I declared victory and departed the field.

We walked back down, and as we were going down, Joe was jumping off rock shelves and relying on my grasp to catch him, which was OK except for the part where I fell myself on my bottom and said "Doggone it." I would like the record to show that I am being accurate in saying that is, in fact, what i said.

And then I saw a flash of pecan color in the branches. Bright brown, if there is such a thing. Just the back of a bird, turning and flying, dropping down out of the branches, in a deep short arc mostly in the bottom. Only thing it could have been was a screech owl, probably pulled out of its nice dry hole by my calling up on the top of the hill. Joe didn't see it, but he believed me when I told him that was what it must have been. (This trust is the nature of fatherhood, the birthright that every day I wait to turn to a mess of pottage.)

And so I said, listen. Listen, we got to walk down the path a bit, so the bird -- we startled the bird -- doesn't know it's us. The bird thinks, that's them up there on the path. But if we get farther down, maybe it won't know it's us. So we got a little farther down. And I said, we have to hide. And so we got behind a tree.

Joe hid, in his tomato-red dinosaur raincoat, behind a tree roughly two-thirds his thickness. And I flipped up my hood. And I started my owl call, again.

At this point, Joe realized that the knapsack, in which the sacred snack had been carried, was in the clear. I saw a small hand in a glove with a flame decal appear and drag the knapsack behind the tree. And I kept up with my owl call.

And I was joined. Joseph gave it his "gruuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!" call. Which sounds like a screech owl call, but without the whistle.

Long before this moment -- let's face it -- I knew there was not going to be an owl. We had been, as they say, made. What matters in the world, though, is not whether there will be an owl, but whether we will look for the owl. And so I whispered, when Joe stopped, "Hey, Joe -- try again!" And he did.

But the owl didn't show. And I said to Joe, "No luck. Maybe we'll try again another day."

And he said, "Dad! Aren't you going to wait?"

The owl never came, but the rain kept falling. Joe thinks, maybe tomorrow there will be an owl. And he might be right. 

They Will Do the Fandango

From The New York Times, today:

In summer 1975, Queen was preparing to work on its fourth album when Mr. Mercury first introduced [Bohemian Rhapsody] to his band mates, from ideas written on pieces of paper. "We just thought that Freddie's blueprint for 'Rhapsody' was intriguing and original, and worthy of work," Mr. May said. "This was a well-planned project from Freddie, to which we contributed our best, but there were always changes along the way as tracks developed."

OH COME ON. Shall we translate? "Freddie came in with this bizarre track that at least didn't mention bicyclists of a certain sort or imply that he was 'in love with his car' and we thought, 'What the hey, maybe it will lead to "We Will Rock You" or something else that will let us get rich on residuals from American stadium revenues some day. Worst case scenario, we end up doing the soundtrack for Flash Gordon. Also, Freddy can cut loose and audition for that future Memorex ad, or one for rust-removal gel if Memorex loses to TDK early. Let's have at it.' "

Learning to Drink from a Big Boy Glass

It's tough going graduating up to a juice glass at the table. Doing it with Joe is kind of like what it must have been like when they gave Robert Johnson a tin cup, or whatever he had, when he was little.

Joe spilled some. He said (and all I add is the line breaks):

I'm wet as a river.
I'm wet as a river.
I'm wet as a river.
I'm almost as wet as rain.

Gotta get the boy a guitar and a porkpie hat.   

Oh, ho, ho, ho.

   
  Originally uploaded by dooce.

The weather outside is frightful, but inside, it's so delightful... With thanks to the inimitable dooce, still the funniest person working in the blog world today.    

Deep

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  At the holiday season, all sorts of traditional music comes to mind.

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  Merry, merry, MERRY MERRY MERRY.
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Dailies, funny and otherwise

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Almost Almost Famous

Dude! I'm on NPR!

OK, I'm not on NPR, really. Because the show is Web-only. But it's a cool show. So I'm on Web NPR.

OK, not really. They used my email for the text on the Web page. Not in the audio feed. So, they didn't, like, say what I wrote? But they printed it? Or at least it's on the page?

Anyway, it's all good. Let me know if you need me to sign your monitor or speakers or iPod or whatever. I'm pretty flexible. You can meet me out back by the tour bus. (OK, not a bus, really? It's a 1994 Mercury Tracer? Really?)