The Wonder Years (Part 2) - Filling in Time

On the heels of my most recent post, my dad and I were discussing how often people remember seemingly concrete events differently.  It reminds me of the classic sitcom theme where everyone recounts a story line, spinning it in a way to make themselves look like the hero.  File this under funny, but true.  If I learned nothing else from my philosophy classes, it is that perception is not reality, even though perception absolutely shapes future events. The latter is what people mean when they say “perception is reality”.  However, in real life, memories are often augmented by the subconscious, in order to rationalize and make sense of situations.  And we know that our perspective changes dramatically as we mature.

 

I too, have noticed after discussing some of my memories in detail, my recollection of the “full story” doesn’t always make perfect sense or jive with others who've experienced the same event.  I have become more aware, the older that I get, that I tend to subconsciously fill in missing pieces of my memory with what I think are logical or probable events.  It really makes you think about scientists who do the same thing in their research. The science fiction book Jurassic Park was based on filling in the missing genetic code of the dinosaurs with frog DNA.  Our brains may not use complicated algorithms, but for sure we do try to complete what is sometimes a puzzle for us.

I’m pretty sure that I have also been guilty of combining separate but similar events.  I don’t always acquiesce, but certainly do acknowledge that I may not remember all the facts perfectly.  A nod to the concept of absolutes suggests that even though we may both be mistaken about certain events, it is indeed impossible for us both to be absolutely correct if we disagree.

It is truly humbling to discover you have gotten it wrong.  I try to remember these times and learn from them.  My buddy Mark and I possess similar sports memories, although his starts a bit before mine, ha!  I watched so many Dallas Cowboys games as a kid, that I am full of specific memories about them.  I once convinced Mark that I was right about a play in which Walt Garrison was kept out of the end zone by Ken Houston of the Redskins on the last play of a Monday Night Football game.  I convinced him that the two hit helmet to helmet and there was a standstill just short of the goal line.  I then saw a replay sometime thereafter, which clearly showed that Mark was right to begin with, that Ken Houston was holding on to Walt Garrison’s waist in order to keep him from scoring a touchdown.

I also recently recounted the capture of a snapping turtle (see picture in Wonder Years Part 1 post) that I thought my cousin Kenny shot. Dad relayed another time that Kenny had shot a turtle, oddly some ten to twelve years after the one to which I was referring.  Moreover, I lived in Dallas and was not present at the time of the second turtle incident.  Was Kenny the lone gunman or was there as second shooter?  Only J. Edgar knows for sure, but he could not recall.  So neither one of us could remember how we caught the original turtle nor how it was landed, but figured it possible that I subsequently heard the Kenny story and attached it to my turtle.  Just as long as we don’t use turtle DNA to fill any perceived gaps in the JFK assassination.

For the record, I do not subscribe to any conspiracy theory for the same basic reasons as hinted above.  How are we filling in these gaps of information?  Furthermore, though we understand basic physics, are we so sure we know it all now?  We once thought the world was flat.  The pristine ketchup incident of 1997 opened my eyes.  I dropped a plastic squeeze bottle of ketchup from the kitchen table some 8 to 10 feet from the refrigerator.  It landed directly on its bottom with lid flipped open.  No harm, no foul.  Upon returning the bottle to the refrigerator a few minutes later, I noticed fresh ketchup on the far side of the unit, the one closest to the wall.  How on earth did that occur?  I could see the ketchup making it that far, yet how did it get on the other side. I suspect air current from a vent had something to do with dramatically changing the direction of the rogue condiment.  Or...... a four-year old Mike could have squirted it there when I wasn’t looking.  

When I was four, I do remember watching the funeral of our fallen president on television.  I specifically recall the white horses pulling the caisson.  I was upset, probably a cue I took from Mom.  I deflated my football with a sewing needle and threw it down to the basement because I was ashamed of having ruined it.  Mom claims I did this because I was so distraught over the funeral.  There could have been some truth to this, but still think I just wanted to see what would happen if I stuck a needle in it.  I was, perhaps, just experimenting with basic physics.  I will say that the more I learn about the Kennedy assassination, the more I seem drawn to the aura surrounding that day in history.  Indeed, visiting the Sixth Floor Museum, formerly the Texas School Book Depository can be an emotional experience.    

It is clear that even our most recent experiences can affect our perception of the past.  Filling in time, we are.  And at times, past, present and future seem to be one in the same.  This is the only way I could ever make sense of the John Calvin and Presbyterian concept of Predestination.  Our life is like a book.  It exists at a single point in time, yet if you read it, it takes time.  Freewill suggests the book isn’t finished.  For sure, the beginning affects the later chapters.  Perhaps the rest of the book also affects the beginning.  It sure does in our memories.

I had many books as a young boy.  Several were from the Golden Book series.  My favorite of these was The Sky.  I was apparently fascinated with heavenly bodies.  I mean the sun, moon and stars.  Dad, Dianne and I experienced a real heavenly body of sorts, an awe inspiring natural event one Fall Sunday evening.  Our collective memories are still processing the circumstances, but either on the way, or from church, at dusk, the entire northern hemisphere lit and glowed the brightest orange.  In a tenth of a moment, a huge fiery ball occupying what appeared to be most of that north sky, screamed towards the earth. My god, the sun must have fallen!  Dad thought it might have landed only a few miles away. I believe he read in the newspaper that it landed somewhere in Canada, several hundred miles away.  To think people get excited over meteor showers.  They have no earthly idea.

My Golden Book became real after I'd seen that meteorite.  What also seems real to me is hearing music in my head when I sat on the front porch steps of my Denver, Indiana home reading the book.  What’s truly weird is that the music I think I was hearing wasn’t produced until 1969 and later.  I had not discovered it until the mid-seventies. The music was that of the original King Crimson featuring Greg Lake and a later incarnation of the band which had John Wetton as the vocalist. Aha, another case where future events are linked to the past, a variation of Déjà vu perhaps.  It may also be that the music reminds me of the moon and stars.  Certainly the use of the mellotron, a keyboard instrument used to play preset strings has that feel. Whatever it is, those Crimson songs are pinned to my Golden Book experience and my Wonder Years.

The Wonder Years (Part 1) - Over the Hills and Through the Woods

One of my favorite television shows was The Wonder Years featuring Fred Savage as Kevin Arnold and Daniel Stern as the narrator of Kevin’s thoughts.  Part of the fascination is that the time-frame of Kevin’s life and experiences parallel my own.  Why is it, that even the colors of the sixties and seventies now seem faded?  Not everyone did drugs, did they?  That’s just the pictures, Leo.  A student in my wife’s class once commented about something that occurred “back in the day”, before there was color.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t joking.  It also must be part of getting old that makes us long for what we perceive as the good times.  They probably weren’t all that wonderful, but the memories seem uncomplicated by adult concerns such as politics, sex and religion.  I tried to explain my feelings to someone once by suggesting that their friendship reminded me of The Wonder Years.  I suppose the point to which I was driving, was the innocence associated with just hanging out with each other and being genuine without agendas or hidden motives.  How rare is it when people can share time without being burdened by expectations, theirs and/or others’?   We used to do it all the time when we were kids.   I wish I could have captured it in a bottle.

And the passing of time was your friend for the asking
And all you were asking was the passing of time

-Gordon Haskell

I’ve captured many wonderful experiences in my memory.  I pray that I am able to hang on to them throughout my life, but if I don’t, perhaps documenting them will prove beneficial.  My early life will sound like a replay of the Andy Griffith Show, progressing to The Wonder Years and then That 70’s Show.  There was Coach in the 90’s, which Bobbi’s friend and workmate referred to as “Dave”.  Not sure I was that much of a typical Jock, but it did resonate on some level.   A friend once told me that I said what everyone else was thinking, but didn’t have the courage to say.  Not always a good thing I might add, but that was Coach.  The fact that these shows hit the mark, suggests that my experiences may not have been all that uncommon.

Dave, Dianne and Mike with stringer full of Bluegill

When reading Larry Bird’s autobiography Drive several years ago, I was surprised to hear him describe catching Bluegills with a cane pole and hunting mushrooms.  Being an Indiana boy myself, those were also two of my very favorite childhood activities.  A mess of Bluegill and Morel mushrooms would sometimes be served together at my grandmother’s breakfast table.  The usual fare of oatmeal was great, but the taste of the fried vittles I had helped procure, was special.  I remember being less excited about fried squirrel.  At least once, I had frog legs and turtle soup at that table.  I know for sure, I did not try the brains once offered. Suddenly, Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation comes to mind.

  

Mamaw Ed, Dave & Dianne

The trip to my grandma’s house was, in fact, over the hills and through the woods.  It was about a 2 ½ hour drive south from our home in Denver, Indiana to Bliss and Edna Sinclair’s quaint rural abode just outside the smallest of towns, Quincy, Indiana. The trip would become a two-day affair after our move to Arizona in 1967. Their house was near the front of the five-acre wooded lot surrounded directly by a well-maintained lawn which extended into multiple pathways into the woods.  This lot had once been a part of the 120-acre Sinclair homestead where my dad and his sister were born.  The pond was to the west, neatly fenced and also well-kept so as to allow maximum access to the pond’s waterline.  The woods deepened just to the south of the pond and house.  There was a garden and blackberry patch on the southwest side of the pond where I once encountered a black snake.  I was undeterred in collecting enough berries for a pie.

Pard, Dianne, Dave and Dad.  Where's Cousin Eddie?

I retrieved mostly bluegill from the pond, but occasionally caught crappie and remember once snaring a bass on a fly rod.  On the southeast side of pond, turtles seemed to rule and it was difficult to keep any type of bait on your hook.  We mainly used red worms and catalpa worms, but I also seem to recall using grasshoppers and grubs and perhaps food from the kitchen in a pinch.  We also primarily used cane poles, equipped with bobbers.  We used more sophisticated equipment when we fished at one of the several larger ponds and lakes in the area.  Mom and Dad took us frog-gigging once, but for some odd reason couldn’t find a lid for the bucket.  Funny, maybe that was the prototype mission for Mexican Duck Hunting (See Treasure of San Pedro post).  You can gig a frog, but he doesn’t die right away and continues to jump like, well, a frog.  I think we ended up with few frogs that night, at least enough for me to have frog legs. 

Papaw Bliss, Dave w/unfortunate turtle, Dianne

Also, near the south side of the pond, I shot my first rifle.  Dad braced me against a fallen tree.  I’m not sure how old I was, but still remember looking through the scope, squeezing the trigger, being startled by the shot and feeling the recoil impact to my shoulder.  I also went deer and squirrel hunting with my dad. We never shot a deer, but just being in the woods with my dad on a cold morning was exciting.  I loved wearing my long underwear, jeans and what I used to call my “army” boots.  The fur-lined hat with flaps that snapped together was also part of my preferred ensemble.

Hunting Morel mushrooms was more my speed.  I loved to find and eat them.  Better disguised in nature than Easter Eggs, they would frequently be underfoot before being discovered.  These fungi are often found growing near the base of trees like truffles.  Unfortunately my dog Dono would occasionally mark that territory just before we spotted them.  Good thing they weren’t Easter Eggs.  I recently discovered that Morels can also be found in North Texas.  A Spring Break mushroom hunt may be in order.

Other memorable activities around my grandparent’s place included roasting weenies and marshmallows, eating my Grandma's awesome snickerdoodles, and catching lightning bugs (They’re still doin’ all right, Sis).  An attempt was even made to ice skate on the frozen pond, perhaps a foreshadowing of my winter sports skills. I must have also spent hours twisting the rope-suspended swing on the east side of the house just to experience the dizzy unwind.  Who needs hallucinogens?  I almost forgot that I even had a freakin’ pony, although I believe he might have been Satan himself.  Trigger, the neighbor’s gentle horse was a better companion.

Dianne, Dave and Dono (Frozen Pond)

Another great thing about being at Grandma and Grandpa’s place was that my Aunt Maribel and my Aunt Jenny lived nearby.  My dad’s sister and her family lived near Mooresville.  They had an awesome house on a lake and every toy known to man, or to my youngest cousin Mark as it were.  They had a downstairs seemingly dedicated to fun.  Mike, Mark, Dianne and I enjoyed converting the downstairs playroom into a “Scary House”.  Dianne and I always thought that the house was really creepy at night anyway.  Poor Mark usually got the worst of the pranks and wound up being really frightened and getting us into trouble.  That being said, it seemed almost believable that werewolves lived down by the lake.  Right, Dianne?

Dave, Dianne, Mike and Mark in the McGinnis Playroom

McGinnis’ were also the only ones I knew who had color television.  See, I told you it was black and white “back in the day”.  I can distinctly remember watching a Star Trek episode in color for the first time.  It was the episode where there were only kids on the planet because everyone had this disease that made them age quickly.  I must have caught that disease that night.  At any rate, I never wanted to watch black and white again.  After we got our first color TV in about 1973, the battle for the TV really got ugly, especially when Little House on the Prairie starting competing with Monday Night Football.

I’ve joked about my mom being the ultimate yuletide spirit.  Aunt Jenny, one of her four sisters, also had the heart of Santa Claus.  In other words, she spoiled us rotten.  She and Uncle Harold had a store in Quincy.  What I remember most, was being allowed free run of the General Store, getting to have any candy or pop I wanted.  I remember all the paraffin shapes filled with fruit juice.  How strange that I actually enjoyed chewing the tasteless wax.  I also recall loving Cherry Jacks, a combination of cherry and licorice I believe.  My favorite of all favorites, however, was my beloved Choc-Ola, a chocolate beverage served in a pop bottle.  I think that it still marketed, but as Yoo-Hoo. Dianne was into Orange Nehi.  I also remember getting to pick out a toy from her store.  It was like Christmas anytime we visited Aunt Jenny.

 

There are so many wonderful memories and they continue to surface as I try to document my Wonder Years.  I’ve friends with similar experiences.  A couple of years back, a friend from work brought me back Morels from his trip to the Midwest.  Last summer, friends visited their home in Illinois.  I could see, smell, feel and hear their trip reflections like I was there.  Well, because I kind of was.

ASIA "Time Again"

Friday night, November 16^th, 2012, was ASIA time again.  It was the fifth such concert event for me, the first being in the summer of 1983 when the band was at the peak of their incredible success.  A good time was had by all, a mix of young and old in my posse. I had originally purchased seven general admission tickets several months ago (reserved seating had already been sold-out at the Granada Theater) with the idea that it would be me and the boys plus three friends of theirs/mine.  As it turned out, the entourage changed somewhat due to unexpected conflicts, so Bobbi, her workmate Nash, and Trey’s friend Declan joined the Sinclair men for the evening.

I have always been excited to see a favorite band or artist.  I must admit though, that I was not looking forward to the fact that I would have to stand throughout the concert, although looking back, we had to stand on our chairs at Reunion Arena back in ’83 to be able to see over the people in the aisles.  Also, real life, or at least my perception of such, had robbed my focus from the usual anticipation I might have otherwise experienced.  Pathetically, I woke up this particular Friday morning in the same way I’ve come to expect over the past few months, not really wanting to fully participate in much of anything despite having to perform work and other responsibilities.  At least I didn’t respond by curling into the fetal position, although that might have felt reassuring. The next best thing was a freshly recorded “That 70’s Show” as I sipped my morning coffee.  Oddly enough, that goofy program has become a cathartic release for me since late summer. The kids have actually caught me laughing out loud when I presumed I was alone.

I had been in an emotional downturn, the proverbial waters of my life disturbed.  I had not decoded the ripples that had unfolded into me positively (see Rock of Faith post). Many years ago, there had been a drought of a different sort which affected the quality of my musical life. Emerson Lake & Palmer (ELP) had called it quits in 1978 during the onslaught of Punk and New-Wave fads.  Although Keith, Greg and Carl quickly delved into other musical projects such as films and solo albums, the magic was at best difficult to recreate outside the original band.  It wasn’t until 1982, when ASIA burst onto the scene with their debut album, that I again had the opportunity to revel in the success of progressive rock musicians.  Progressive rock veterans Carl Palmer (ELP), John Wetton (King Crimson, UK, etc.), Geoff Downes (Buggles,Yes) and Steve Howe (Yes) had found a new way to remain relevant in the new decade.  Their music had the precision and technique of prog rock, but was radio and MTV friendly.  I probably played that first ASIA album as much as any, outside of maybe ELP’s Tarkus.  Everyone knows “Heat of the Moment”, “Only Time Will Tell” and “Sole Survivor”, but the last song on the 1^st side of the record was their most prog-like piece “Time Again”.  It remains one of my favorite ASIA songs.  I also finally had a viable point of reference for discussing music with those unfamiliar with Prog.  Outside of Greg Lake’s brief stint replacing John Wetton in ASIA (ironic since Wetton followed Lake as King Crimson bassist and vocalist), it wouldn’t be until 1986’s Emerson Lake & Powell that I would be as excited about music.

In previous posts I’ve alluded to the spiritual essence of music.  Indeed, it seems vital for my physical and mental well-being. Time and time again, I forget the importance of nourishing my soul in this fashion.  It was time again for a trip to the Granada Theater.  The logistics of transporting seven to Lower Greenville via Central Expressway on a Friday night were daunting enough.  Add the tasks of getting Mike from Sherman and then picking up Danny from the H.S. after his basketball game in Flower Mound.  I took Trey, Declan and Nash early enough that we could eat at Snuffers next door to the Granada.  This has now become a tradition for us.  Bobbi came later with the other two boys.  The ride down was fun as I got to know Nash and Declan.  It seemed ironic that I was having a fairly erudite political discussion with the 13-year old while listening to Nash wax nostalgic. His heyday/teen years had been the early eighties and of course ASIA was his favorite band.  I enjoyed explaining the background of the musicians and connections to all of my other favorite bands.  Suddenly, I thought Mark must have been with us (lol) as we were stuck in traffic and Nash needed an emergency pit stop.  I jumped the curb just in time to get him to a 7-11.  I should now have plenty of material for my own Flomax advertisement. 

We finished eating and walked next door in time to see some of the technicians doing final adjustments.  Nash, with childlike enthusiasm inquired whether the people on stage were “anybody”.  I kind of laughed and said, “just techs and roadies”.  Then I believe I identified Geoff Downes’ keyboard tech as Will Alexander, a long-time Keith Emerson tech and production collaborator. So yes, anyone who has maintained Keith’s original Moog Synth, is “somebody”, at least to me:). I was wishing that our newbies could have experienced the visual and musical display by Keith using that Moog, sometimes referred to as “the world’s most dangerous synth”.  It was also at the Granada in 2010, that we and other friends experienced plaster flaking from the ceiling due to the subsonic sounds produced by the historic Moog.  In retrospect, I don’t think Nash could have connected that in any way to the popular sounds of his beloved ASIA.

The concert started as Bobbi and the boys were still sitting on Central Expressway.  I know Mike and Danny were fretting and I hoped they’d be there soon. They arrived during the 3^rd song, a new one from the 2012 album XXX, and just before “Time Again”.  Danny got to hear his other favorite “Ride Easy” which has the feel of an English spy movie a la James Bond.

1. Only Time Will Tell
2. Wildest Dreams
3. Face on the Bridge
4. Time Again
5. Tomorrow the World
6. Ride Easy
7. Steve Howe Solo
8. I Know How You Feel (featuring John Wetton)
9. Don’t Cry (featuring John Wetton)
10. The Smile Has Left Your Eyes (featuring John Wetton)
11. Cutting it Fine / Bolero (Geoff Downes Solo)
12. Holy War
13. Carl Palmer Solo
14. An Extraordinary Life
15. Here Comes the Feeling
16. Open Your Eyes
17. Sole Survivor
18. Heat of the Moment 

Steve Howe’s acoustic guitar solo was pleasing as always. My favorite is “The Clap” from his Yes days.  At least for me, the tour de force is Carl’s drum solo.  I think I’ve seen him about 15 times and it never disappoints.  Declan is a huge Rush and Neil Peart fan, but I knew once the still boyish looking 62-year old Palmer got it going, that a new fan would be born.  As mentioned, ASIA is less a progressive band and not one like ELP or Rush where the drummer is prominently on display, so it took a few buildup songs and the drum solo to win over our guests.  The solo is much shorter, but every bit as precise and entertaining as it has always been, complete with juggling sticks and other fun tricks.  He is not only one of the very best drummers ever, in any genre, but a consummate showman.  He is one of the few that are able to carry-off the solo thing without losing people. After all, it was he who most impressed my parents when they braved an ELP concert in the seventies.

Due to the nature of general admission, our group was a bit scattered.  I was at the back leaning against the wall while the rest were closer but amongst the crowed.  Trey had commented earlier that he wished he didn’t have to stand behind “Leo”, the Tommy Chong hippie character from the aforementioned 70’s Show.  I laughed, but during the encores, some idiot lit one up.  Of course this used to be the norm, but now venues strictly prohibit smoking of any kind.  Bobbi then ran back to inform me that our 13-year olds had just been offered a joint. Of course the kids were more mature than the fool who tried to pass the funny cigarette.  Bobbi is usually the one that has to calm me down, but it was apparent that she wanted action.  Seeing as the concert was nearing end, I didn’t think a scene was warranted.  It was somewhat embarrassing however, to have that happen to a kid I’d been entrusted to chaperone.  I think Nash was having a flashback about this time.

As the concert ended, I was back on my game, feeling alive and interested in rehashing the performance as well as the historical perspective and influence of progressive rock. It was also clear that these guys really loved playing their music. I doubt any of them are in need of money and here they are playing to some 300 people when they used to perform for tens of thousands.  ELP headlined the California Jam in 1974 with a paid attendance of 250,000.  Danny traded cars with Trey and Declan, so he and I decided to play some related music for Nash on the trip home. Danny attached his iPod to my stereo and cranked up some U.K. featuring John Wetton.  You could see the confusion on Nash’s face.  He was obviously at a loss and asked if the band were experimenting with certain noises.  Danny and I were stunned because we thought the songs were pretty normal in comparison to some we liked, and since the vocal was by the same person he had just listened to at the concert, we thought he would like it.  We took it one step further and really messed with him by playing some ELP, at which point, I felt sorry for him and thanked him for being a good sport.  He wondered aloud whether he’d be able to sleep that night.  I slept well for one of the few times in the recent past and was heartened that everyone enjoyed the experience.