Author: brhythm

Mexican Weddings

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This dream was from a couple of nights ago. I was in this town just outside of Mexico. Not Mexico, Maine, but Mexico Mexico. It was to be a little bit before Jim’s wedding, so I decided I’d walk over this little bridge into Mexico,  and go have a taco–just so I could say I had a taco in Mexico. Half-way across the bridge was the boarder patrol booth.

“Where are you going,” asked the boarder agent.
“I’d like to go into Mexico,” I replied.
“What’s the purpose of your trip?”
“I’d like to have a taco.”
He looked and me quizzically. “That’s the only reason?” I explained I was from Maine, only had a few hours, that I was there for a wedding, and that I’d like to be able to tell people I’d eaten tacos in Mexico. “Well, it’s really busy in town right now. Why don’t you come back after the wedding, and we’ll put you right through.” I agreed that would be fine.

So I walked to the town hall/high school where the wedding was to take place. It was a very large, very angular, brick building. A local historian was there, and he told me all about the building.  He said:

“The high school auditorium holds 24,000 people. And, we can fill it up, especially around town meeting time.”
I said “How many people live in town?”
“About 40,000,” he replied.

The building was big, but I thought “They can’t fit 24,000 people in here, no way.” I decided to scope things out. I wandered around the building, and found the stage entrance to the auditorium. I entered. It was big, but not that big. I figured the guy misspoke. The place held 2,400, maybe, but not 24,000. And, the hall was pretty beat up. I could tell from the percussion instruments on stage they looked like your typical high-school band instruments. Beat up, unloved, and un-cared-for. Things like sousaphones were being stored up in the balcony. Many of the seats were patched with duct tape. I thought “Why would Jim get married in a place like this?”

I was trying to figure out where I was supposed to go to get ready for this shindig. Someone pointed me to the orchestra pit, on stage left. I headed down there. There, behind a curtain, was Jim and his bride. Interestingly, Jim was getting married to Jeanine (his actual wife), but to Heather Schmidt (Jeanine’s maid of honor in Jim and Jeanine’s real wedding). She was lacing up her boots, when the music started blaring. Incidentally, the music Jim and Heater marched in to was the same song (“So Nice“) Jim and Jeanine actually marched out to! And they didn’t really march. No, it was almost a Broadway musical meets parade meets Sesame Street thing. About 100 people did a song and dance routine onto the stage, along with Jim and Heather. I apparently wasn’t at the rehearsal for this masterpiece, as people were dancing and singing with choreography and the whole bit. I was running around, trying to figure out where I was. I looked out into the audience just in time to see some curtains rising from the balcony, and see about 24,000 people that had been hidden behind some curtains. I thought “Dang, this place is huge!”

I finally saw Jim and Heather standing in front of the officiant. As the best man, I figured I should stand up there by them somewhere. I found the bride’s mother, and she motioned me to come stand by her. The officiant was looking at us. She was dressed in a monk’s robe, and wore it hood down. I could see white medical tape across her neck, as well as a gauze pad, and a large scar. Apparently, she was recovering from a tracheotomy. She spoke in a very raspy voice. As she was speaking the opening lines, Heather’s mom tugged on my arm, and said something to me. I don’t remember what it was, but she stopped just in time for me to hear the preacher woman say “…will now lead us in prayer.” So I bowed. And waited. And waited. And waited. And then I thought, “Oh my heck, what if the preacher just said something like “And now the best man will lead us in prayer, and I couldn’t hear it because the bride’s mom was talking!” I looked around, anxious to see if someone was going to give me a cue or something. No one was looking. Every one was head down, eyes closed. But no one was speaking. I didn’t know what to do. Are they all waiting for me to lead the prayer?

Then I woke up.

Canceled Chuch

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Church was canceled today. We called it off last night. Pastor Dave thought “If it’s going to be this bad, why not call it off now? That way, people won’t spend time digging out in the morning, only to have us call and tell them it’s canceled.” So, we canceled the AM service.

This morning, Dougie came and plowed the driveway for me (thanks!). I was already out shoveling. The result? By 8:30, I was dug out. The sun came out, it got a little warmer, and the roads looked fine. So, I decided I’d go to church. And, since Harmony Bible Church wasn’t having services, I thought I’d visit Littlefield. JP and Jimmy T go to Littlefield, so I thought I’d go there. It would give me opportunity to see how a church with over 100 attendees (usually) does things, and to see if perhaps there were some ideas we could use at Harmony.

I had a very nice visit. While there, I had another thought, and one that I also had a couple of weeks ago. Today, I didn’t have any responsibilities but to go and worship.  No Sunday School to lead, to Sunday School class to facilitate. No ushering to do, no deacon responsibilities, no stairs to shovel. Instead, I could go and concentrate on the more spiritual aspects of a worship service, and not so much on the “work” involved in putting on a worship service. And I was reminded of that thought I had a few weeks ago, and which I posted of Facebook. Here it is:

Friends, there’s a lot involved in a worship service. People are “working” that you might go and have an experience with God. The next time you go and are spiritually fed at a church, thank all those people who were involved. Thank the preacher on the way out. Thank the musicians for their service. Thank the nursery worker who attended to those crying babies in the nursery. Thank the janitor or sexton for keeping the place plowed and shoveled. Thank the treasurer for staying after the service to count and deposit the offering. These people put in hours a week working, planning, providing, and helping, and most do it unthanked and unnoticed. How about showing them a little appreciation next week?

The New House and Christmas

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One of the things I like about keeping a blog is the history. I can go back eight years and see what I was up to. Facebook, however, is keeping me from posting. And, while I’m an almost daily poster on FB, now I’m posting here every other week or so. The downside is FB has no “archive,” really. Yes, I can click “see older posts,” but who wants to do that to find something eight months old? No one. I did it once, looking for something from Jimmy T’s bachelor party, and it took forever. So I need to remember to post milestones here.

Back in the first week of October, I moved into my childhood home. My mom bought a new trailer, and placed it on a couple of acres about a mile from her old house. I have said for years that I would love to live in my old home town, Spruce Head Maine America. With mom moving, that opportunity came around. With the blessings of my brother and sister, Mom and I made arrangements for me to purchase her house–the house I grew up in. Susan moved five times before she was 12. She was really captivated by the idea that I grew up in essentially one house for my entire childhood. (Technically, another house was burned out in ’77–or was it ’76? Either way, I was too young to have any real memories of it. The “new” house sits on the old foundation, though!) So we’re now all settled into my “old” house, which is now the Batty’s “new” house, even though it was this Batty’s old house. Got it?

Our “new” house is a ranch, where “Rockland House” was a typical New Englander. Living on one floor has significant advantages. Since the laundry is all on one floor, I’m like to wash, fold, and put the laundry into storage. At Rockland House, where laundry was in the basement, clean laundry went onto a table, and eventually became a mountain of clean laundry. And, since the bedrooms are on the same floor, we’re more likely to make the bed, and keep things tidied up. No more hiding mess upstairs! The only downside I can see so far is that the kids don’t go “downstairs” in the morning, making sleeping in after those late night gigs much harder to do.

————

Christmas at the new house was a lovely affair. Though a made a special trip to Rockland House to pick up the video camera, we forgot to use it. My inlaws came down and celebrated with us, as they usually do. In the afternoon, we had lunch at my mom’s new house, and opened presents there. I should also mention that Christmas Eve was at my grandmother’s house. This year, she “cut back.” Every year, she says she’s cut back, and bought fewer presents. This year, she actually did. And honestly, I appreciate it. In years past, the kids would get so much stuff we’d actually have to give perfectly good toys away in order to make room for the new stuff. This year, everyone was more in line.

I bought Susan a Wii Fit–something she wanted last year too. I played a very nice Christmas party for a legal firm, and parlayed that gig into her present. Really, the whole family is using it. I’m even getting up early to try and put in 15-30 minutes of “work out.” I do a little stretching, some cardio stuff, and then a little run. It’s really quite fun. The biking, the obstacle course, and the run get the heart rate up, get my lungs working, and get me off the couch. Here’s hoping I stick with it!

The FAMOUS drummer

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I was on break last night, having finished set #1 at The Black Bull. Old high school chums Jim Mooney, Maura Manning, and Leslie Tax were there. Maura lives in Australia now, and Leslie lives in New Mexico. (Or was it Arizona?) Jim is in Hallowell–not too far away. Anyway, I was going to sit down with them, when this guy who had been enjoying the music came over to me.

“Is that a Pearl kick drum?” he asked?
“It is,” I said.
“I’ve been looking for a small kick drum. I thought the mounting hardware looked like Pearl, but I didn’t recognize the line.”
“Well, it was a floor tom that I put on its side. I then put the bass hardware on there, and recovered it it pink sparkle.”
“Oh! So it’s been heavily modified?”
“Yeah, it has” I said.
“And what kind of snare is that?” he asked.
“It’s a Pearl too,” I said.
“What line is it?” he asked.
“It’s a Pearl Sensitone Classic. It’s bronze.”
“I like metal snares,” he said. “I have this cheap $80 Tama snare now, but it sounds so good!”
“I like metal snares too,” I said. “That particular snare is my “desert island” snare. It’s sounds good in so many rooms, and it’s so versatile.”
“Well, it sounds really good.”
“Thanks,” I said. And he was right. I had it dialed in, and it was sounding particularly good.
“I had this friend let me try one of his snares,” he told me. “It was a Dunnett. It was cast iron. It sounded really good, but it was soooo heavy.”
“I’m Bill, by the way.”
“I’m Jon. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you from the area?” I asked.
“I live in Lincolnville, but I’ve only been here about five years. I haven’t been playing out too much. I’m still trying to meet musicians.”

At the end of the night, bass player Glen asked me about what the guy said, and whether he said anything about the sound of my drums. I said he did. He said “He hasn’t been playing much.” I said “Jon? You know him?” Glen said:

“That guy is the drummer for Phish.”

!!!!!

I knew Jon Fishman was living in the area. One of my former students, Ian, is a HUGE Phish fan, and went to Jon’s place one day to jam. But I didn’t put two and two together. I just figured Jon, the drummer from Lincolnville, and didn’t even consider “Wait, Phish’s drummer is named Jon and lives in Lincolnville too!” And the cool thing was, he didn’t mention it either. He could’ve said “Oh, I’m the drummer for Phish. I’ve sold a gazillion albums. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” Nope. All low key.

And, he didn’t look anything like he did in his interview with Modern Drummer. He looked like regular ol’ Lincolnville local guy.

Dreaming of Laserdiscs

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I had a dream last night that I was in a music shop. In the shop, they also had quite a few used laserdiscs. As a guy who still has a LD player, and as a guy who likes a bargain, I was checking tem out. Most of them were “slasher” movies: scantilly clad women running away from some gruesome killer. (One of them had the tagline “Like sex and murder? This is the movie for you!”) Not being into those kinds of movies, I kept looking. There wasn’t anything really good. I did find a copy of “Splash.” It was pretty beat up. At first, I thought “No, it wasn’t THAT good a movie.” Then I thought “Well, it DOES have Tom Hanks.” I pulled the beat-up jacket out of the bin, and the price tag read “$11.00, Rare.”

I looked at the clerk, my facial expressions reading “$11, are you kidding?” She understood my look, and said “According to the guidebook, that’s what it’s worth.” I thought to myself “Good luck selling that at ‘book value'” and put it back in the bin.

The clerk then held up a very large LD box. “Here’s the Jayne Mansfield box set: 80 laserdiscs, every movie she ever made. Interested?” I wasn’t.

That’s all I remember. Well, there was a part about me buying a restored candy green Jeep, but I don’t remember how that tied in.