Last week, my boss took me to lunch at 501 Arthur. It was fabulous! Great food, great atmosphere, etc. They had an unobtrusive sound system. You knew the music was playing, but it didn’t overpower conversation. As he was paying the tab, an instrumental came on, and I started humming with it. Then, my mind just went blank. I couldn’t remember the title of the song, or any of the words. The only thought my mind registered was that Dad used to sing it when I was little, and it was one of the few songs he sang. He had a deep, baritone voice that edged toward bass, and he could really hit the low notes of the song — if I could only remember the name of it.

I kept humming it when we got back to the office, and after about an hour or so, I finally remembered the name of the song. You guessed it, The Streets of Laredo. Now that I finally had a name, I looked it up on YouTube. Wow! There are several different versions of the song. And I watched all of them with tears in my eyes.

Then I discovered something that no “Daddy’s girl” should ever have to face. He had part of the lyrics wrong. Apparently, he didn’t remember all of them and just filled in with other parts of the song that fit. So, I sat at my desk, making the strange sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a choked cry and decided to keep singing it the way Dad did.

Now, here’s the freaky part. I got home that night and DH had the television tuned to the western channel. You’ll never guess what movie was on. Yep, The Streets of Laredo.

Now, I’m not so much of a believer of messages from the grave, but this coincidence was just a little too much to ignore. The song is basically a cowboy who is dying and who wants to tell his story to a young gunslinger to keep the young gun from the same fate. A “learn from my mistakes” theme, if you will. Dad had several mantras, and one of them was “work smart, not hard.” When he used it, he meant learn from my mistakes, or learn from what I’ve learned and save yourself some time and trouble.

So, what do I think he was telling me?

Get off your butt and finish the damn book.

Yes, Daddy.

I found a great site for television theme songs. It has a name the theme game which is downright addictive. I didn’t do very well on it. When you don’t watch much more than the Sci-Fi or sports channels, it’s hard to recognize any themes.

Of course, I tuned right into the Monday Night Football theme (http://www.televisiontunes.com/ABC_Monday_Night_Football_-_1989.html) and The X-Files Theme (http://www.televisiontunes.com/X-Files.html). It also had themes for some of my other favorites, some shows I’ve never heard of, and the ending theme which plays while the credits roll.

Jessie

Okay, I’m pulling for the Giants. Not much to say on the subject which hasn’t already been said.

But, the half-time show…

Tom Petty is the scheduled entertainment. Being a southern gal, I’ve always enjoyed his music. I doubt after Janet’s little fiasco a couple of years ago that he’ll sing You Don’t Know How it Feels, because hey *let’s roll another joint*, but what do you think he’ll pick for the SuperBowl audience?

My picks are:

Running Down a Dream
Free Fallin’
Breakdown
I Won’t Back Down

My maybes are:
Even the Losers
Refugee
Don’t Come Around Here No More

So, what do you think will be his picks?

Have a great weekend!
Jessie

One of my favorite musicals/poperas is Evita (The original Broadway Show). However, there is one song which I always skip when I’m listening to the soundtrack - Another Suitcase in Another Hall.

The song is absolutely wonderful and haunting in it’s emotional depth. It’s performed by Peron’s mistress after Evita kicks the teenaged girl out.

So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I skip the song.

Because it has absolutely nothing to do with the story line, and it feels more like an intermission.
A few minutes for the regular cast to rest their voices.

Authors do this, too. They’ll add a scene, with or without the major characters, and it does nothing to further the story. It’s a good scene, but it doesn’t add any substance. And guess what? I skip over them, no matter how beautifully written. Most of the time, I feel like those scenes have been added for word count. If the pace needs to slow down a little, and sometimes it does in order for the reader to catch their breath, throwing in a scene which doesn’t further the plot will do more than let me catch my breath. Nine times out of ten, it will get a bookmark. There’s no driving force to induce me to turn the page, and when that happens, I can close the book.

Not good.

So, any time I’m tempted to write a scene which doesn’t directly impact my plot, I pull out my CD of Evita and listen to Another Suitcase in Another Hall, and remind myself why those scenes will never work.

Jessie

Today is Glen Frey’s birthday. He’s 59. He’s written some of my favorite songs, with the Eagles and solo. Some of his songs include:

Take It Easy
New Kid in Town
Doolin-Dalton
Smuggler’s Blues
The Best of My Love
I Can’t Tell You Why
Wasted Time
Tequila Sunrise
and many, many more.

I have New Kid in Town on 45 rpm record. Most of the others, I have on album or disk. It’s hard to pick a favorite among his songs, but if pressed, I might be able to narrow the ones I have listed to one or two.

New Kid in Town, I Can’t Tell You Why, & Tequila Sunrise. Those soulful tunes get to me.

So, Happy Birthday, Mr. Frey, and may you have many more.

Jessie

I thought I’d start with a random hit off my computer catalog of music and blog about the first song that played. But, after staying up to watch Brett Favre’s magnificent 82 yard touchdown pass in overtime, I changed my mind and decided to do a football song. I’m not talking about the songs performed during the promo spots or at the beginning of the shows, I mean a one-time top 40 hit about football. Sort of.

The year: 1969
The artist: Mel & Tim
The song: Backfield in Motion

You can find the lyrics here.

In football, it’s a five yard penalty against the offense- more than one man in motion at the snap, and is called as illegal motion. The referee’s signal is described as “Horizontal arc with one hand” and can be seen here.

The song also mentions the penalties of off-sides and holding, and strangely enough, a short baseball reference to balking. Must’ve been written in October.

I’m not sure when they started using illegal motion instead of backfield in motion, and haven’t found any references to the switch. If anyone knows, please share the knowledge.

Jessie

Well, I’ve had a bit too much excitement this week. Dad went for his 1st chemo treatment Tuesday, but they had done a CT scan on his brain Monday, and the results showed a tumor in the right side of his brain. So, they sent him home with another appointment with a radiologist for Friday. On the way home, he started having seizures. He went back to the hospital by ambulance, and the family was called in.

When we arrived he was still seizing. The ER physician saw indications that the cancer had spread to his liver and possibly his stomach. After a few rounds of really good drugs, they stopped the seizing and ordered a CT scan of the stomach & liver. We were told to expect comfort measures only.

They did the scan late Tuesday night, and we didn’t learn the results until early Wednesday morning–there’s an abscess on the outside of his liver, probably from an emergency gall bladder surgery he had 4 years ago. We also learned that a brain tumor and a brain abscess look almost identical on a CT scan of the brain, and that the tumor could actually be an abscess. They scheduled an MRI for today, which hopefully will give us a definitive answer.

I was praying for a miracle, I’m not going to argue with the results. I’ll take a brain abscess over a tumor any day of the week.

Now, for the title of this post: There’s an old Ray Stevens’ song entitled, The Haircut Song. Here are some of the lyrics:

Well, Butte, Montana just a’passin’ through, one thing I just had to do,
Had to get a haircut and I was worried for my hair.
I had a feeling of impending doom the minute I stepped into that room and laid my eyes upon that barber chair.
It was a macho barber shop. Hair dryers were mounted on a rifle rack. Wasn’t no mirrors. The barber chair was a Peterbilt… Barber walked in; he was huge, seven feet tall, three hundred pounds of spring steel and rawhide. Wearin’ a hard hat, chewin’ a cigar, had a t-shirt on — said, “I hate musicians.”
Threw me in the chair, sneered and said, “What’ll it be pal?”
Now a lot of people would be intimidated in a situation like this…I was not. I am what I am, play my little piano, and sing my little songs. I looked him right in the eye and I said, “I’m a logger - just up from Coos Bay, Oregon. Been toppin’ trees - quite possibly the toughest man in the entire world.”

Dad & I quote the part about playing the piano and singing songs every time we’re together. It always pops up in one of our conversations, usually along the line of,

“Well, what can you do?”
“I don’t know. I just play my little piano, sing my little songs.”

Well, Tuesday night when they finally got him to a room around 11:30 p.m. or so, the nurse came in and asked Dad his name. At this point, he was riding high on the ativan, and he sounded like he’d been on a three day drunk because his tongue was swollen from his biting it during the seizures. He looked her straight in the eye and answered, “My name’s Roger. I’m a logger from Coos Bay, Oregon. Quite possibly the toughest man in the world. Just playin’ my little piano and singin’ my little songs.”

The look on her face was priceless, and we were all laughing so hard none of us could explain why he’d answered that way. His name’s not even Roger. We have no idea where that came from. And he’s still telling the new nurses who come in at shift change that he’s a logger from Oregon, even though he’s completely cognizant. He had a long conversation with one of the nurses about Oregon and Seattle (where she is from) this morning. (He has been there.)

He kicked us out shortly thereafter, and I haven’t heard anything from anyone regarding the MRI. I think I may go home after work and collapse now that the immediate danger is over. The chair I slept in last night at the hospital didn’t provide a good night’s rest.

Jessie

While at RT, me and a few other people got caught up in a conversation about music–cheesy music. I usually have a soundtrack of sorts to match the mood of my story, but these songs will never make the soundtracks. Here’s a list of cheesy songs that even if you do like them, you’ll be too embarrassed to admit it.

Midnight at the Oasis (does anyone actually put a camel to bed?)
Afternoon Delight (the lyrics no one can understand are, “I always thought a fish could not be caught that didn’t bite.”)
On the Cover of the Rolling Stone (A gen-u-wine Indian guru)
Ode to Billy Joe (Pass the blackeyed peas)
Harper Valley PTA (Now, why is she using more ice?)
Chevy Van (Keep your eyes on the road, son and slow this vehicle down)

I have all of these, in one form or another, and probably dozens more that I blessedly don’t remember. Otherwise, you might pass me in the hall one day and hear me humming, Billy Don’t be a Hero.

Jessie