Music has the power to unlock emotions, memories, and consciousness. It allows us to become temporarily aware of parts of ourselves that we do not ordinarily access in our every day routines and chores – especially those parts of ourselves that are deep, strong, and meaningful beyond words.
#DadChat Rocked and Rolled Thursday, June 7 from 6:00 – 7:00 p.m., PT. Everyone shared their your favorite desert island song (YouTube links) and all-time favorite R&R album. Was it be a Beatles album or song? The Doors, Led Zepellin, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Green Day, Lady Gaga, The Stones, Elvis Presley, Madonna, or The Jackson Five? Was it be metal, punk, pop, traditional, or grunge? Jason Ramsey was our co-host and you can read the transcript and see exactly how much fun you missed!
I’ve seen Bruce Springsteen several times, most notably at The Sports Arena back in the day. The aroma in the arena that night was memorable, but more so was the FOUR hours of music. Everyone stood for the whole thing. I’ve never quite got that, but then it was sort of cool when I was younger.
On May 3, 2010, my son’s dream came true! He went to see his idol Chris Cornell at a benefit acoustic concert at The Roxy, on Sunset Blvd., in Hollywood, California. With his girlfriend Logan, they pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Cornell was playing acoustic guitar with only a cello as back-up.
Arnie and Chris Cornell at The Roxy, May 2010
At a pause between songs, Arnie shouts out, “Hey, Chris, I have a question for you” and gets his attention, to which Chris asks, “Yes, what is it?” Arnie then shouts, “It’s been my lifelong dream to jam on one song with you.” Cornell says, “Well, what do you play and do you have a song in mind?” Arnie replies, “I’ve been playing guitar for 6 years and I want to play “Fell On Black Days” at which point the crowd is shouting to Chris, “Let him, Let him!”
There was a slogan in the early days of the feminist movement that went something like, “A woman needs a man as much as a fish needs a bicycle.” I was part of that generation, that also said, “Don’t trust anyone over 30,” among other things equally foolish. I seem to remember that whoever said that, about not trusting someone over 30, was a rock ‘n’ roll star that still tours, now in his 60’s. I wonder if he’s changed his mind? For my money, the only good thing that came out of the sixties was the music. I just wish more performers and Hollywood in general would just stick to their craft!
My former showbiz life coincided with the breaking of the so-called glass ceiling, which was quite real for a long time. Many women were now reaching the corporate and other hierarchies that had heretofore been denied them. However, instead of bringing their feminine instincts, skills, and traits to these newfound positions, many were adopting the worst of the existing masculine behaviors and habits. They were going to be just as tough, just as hard working, and just as ruthless.
Remembering Chevy Chase in those summer vacations movies reminds me of the fact that most so-called “family vacations” are, at best, vacations for the kids and torture for the parents. I’m generalizing, of course, but most generalizations as well as clichés, have a strong basis in truth. I stand by the proposition that we parents usually need a vacation after our family one, if only to recover and rest.
This summer my younger son, David, got to spend several weeks at the sleep- away camp he loves, while my older son, Will, is indulging his passion for rock ‘n’ roll at a Rock School where he’s taking drum lessons, and participating in numerous bands and concerts through the school. He’ll also be living, figuratively, in our garage with his own band, driving the nearby horses crazy, or am I mistaking their thrashing about as dancing?
I had naively hoped never to live through tough economic times like my folks did, with The Great Depression. And, while I still believe that we’re far from those stupid dark economy days, it is clear that we are in the midst of the worst financial crisis of my life and certainly of my boy’s lives. There are lessons for them, for me, for all of us.
I recently got in a debate with a close friend about his wanting to get his not-yet-16-year-old a car. “He’s done well in school; he deserves it,” my friend says. This same friend is financially strapped, in constant debt, yet wants to please his son whose many friends “all have cars.” This is the ultimate juggling act for my generation of parents, who seem inclined to pamper their kids, delay their growing up, and otherwise give them everything they desire. It seems we’re all trying to compensate for some perceived slight our kids are suffering at our hands, whether it’s the dual-working parents or, in my case, the ugly divorce and absentee Mom. I feel bad for them, so I buy to assuage those feelings.
