Freedom

I had to run an errand for work this morning. As I was being shuttled to the Ford dealership to pick up our F-550, we stopped to pick up a breakfast burrito at a nice little breakfast shack (trailer really).

As I stood in the rain waiting for my burrito, I heard peals of laughter and children's voices coming from behind me. I turned to watch the kiddos riding their tiny bikes in circles in the church parking lot across the street. Laughing in the rain. I stood there grinning as it took me back.

Remember when we were growing up and your bike was a symbol of freedom for you? You could ride where ever you wanted to, it was faster than walking and you did not have to get a parent to drive you? I remember riding to the store, to school, to our friends down the road, to the stream and to the bog. Riding, even in just the driveway, was freedom.

And so I stood and watched these kids exercising their freedom in their world and I had a sudden epiphany. I still ride my bike, I still grin and laugh while pedaling, I still look to stretch the bounds of my personal freedom on two wheels.

I just ride in bigger circles.

In remembrance of Carson Spencer

I have lost a two friends over the years to suicide. I often think of both. One lives on as a player on my personal all-star hockey team. The other lives on as a phone number in my cell that I can't delete, it helps me think of a friend who I worked and hung out with many years ago.

I was blown away the other morning when I heard Carson's name on CPR as Hope and I were driving to the office. We were chatting and the radio was simply background noise; we were barely listening to it. Carson's sister was being interviewed by StoryCorps for the story on Carson and his death. Hearing his name out of the blue brought memories and tears to my eyes.

The link to the interview is here...the one on the upper right.

Carson played hockey with me on a team called the Flying Fortress. This was a great group of guys and I am happy to still count all of them as friends...several as close friends and brothers. Carson had a great smile and was a natural born storyteller. And he was fantastic at parties, both the ones he threw and the ones where we were both in attendance.

I remember a late night party at his house when were chipping balls from his backyard onto the green that was beyond his backyard. Ok...everyone else was chipping balls onto the green, I was shanking them left and right. I think one even hit the fence and came straight back at us. We laughed late into the night, watched/listened to a Steely Dan concert DVD and did our best not to wake their young child. It was a good night.

Carson, we all miss you.

Validation and vindication

Hope returned from Maine with the baby book my mother kept for me (along with a scrapbook...yikes, we aren't even going to talk about THAT here). Enclosed in the baby book, along with the standard familial anecdotes and firsts was a copy of what I believe was entitled "The Mukai Sentinel".

All you Main-ahs out there will likely recognize the loose affiliation with our other locally esteemed tome of journalistic excellence. One of my Mother's attempts to guide my education and likely keep me out of her hair for more than five minutes was to have me publish a weekly family newsletter. I was able to write, edit and publish all pieces of my opus on our Apple IIc. What a magnificent machine. When completed and if memory serves, we would mail each set of letters out to our extended family in New York, Jersey and points to our north (well, west really).

An early form of a blog, perhaps? Thanks and kudos to my Mom!

In other news....

My baby book also noted that I never wanted to wake up in the morning. Not only as a baby but into childhood. And that I was grumpiest in the first moments following my exit from slumber.

All still true!

I need to research further if I had trouble falling asleep at night. Which may explain why I am writing this somewhere past midnight. With that note, I retire.

July 1, 1998

I spent a good portion of tonight playing guitar until my fingers bled. Ok, that's not true. I played until my fingers in my left hand were so numb that they could only mash the strings against the fret board.

I have tried to always put a date on songs that I have written. I pulled out my old notebooks and sight read many old songs tonight, some that I don't even really remember writing or how they go. And I found the date of the first song I ever wrote, just 3 days over 10 years ago. Wow.

It is pretty incredible to think of all that has happened over those ten years. I keep wanting to put pen to paper and write again but it seems that I have a bad case of writer's block. Thus, I keep writing here hoping that the dam will break loose and music can get written down on paper again.

Some time soon, I hope....

Music

I sit here tonight, quite happy with myself. A while ago, I purchased several AirPorts on Craig's List and set up our house to stream music wirelessly to a stereo in the man cave, the living room and the garage. It also means that I can play music at night while I sleep and not bother Hope (she doesn't like having speakers playing music in our bedroom).

Music has always played such an important role in my life. Playing and listening, it has been a part of everything I have done, it is as if I have a soundtrack playing along every step I take. I am old enough to remember mix tapes and was lucky enough to find one in the back of our Land Rover on a jaunt last weekend (thanks Fibby!).

While I have been resting here listening to some of my favorite songs, I have also been reminiscing silently about some of my favorite concerts. Dylan at UVM (actually, Jewel stole the show). Neil Young. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at the Pepsi Center in Denver (Hope stood in line with me waiting to get tickets...she was here visiting oh so many years ago). Tom Petty at Red Rocks. Tristan Prettyman at the Fox Theater. Hell's Belles at the Fox (or out in Salt Lake City). Telluride Blue Grass Festival. The Wallflowers at UVM. Ray Lamontagne in Denver with my parents. Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds at Middlebury. Dispatch here in Denver. Ben Harper at Red Rocks. Bare Naked Ladies at the Pepsi Center. Pearl Jam at the Pepsi Center. Anything where Chris Farrell performed (though my favorite was probably at Alden Camps). The Folk Festival in Lyons. Steve Earl at Boulder Theater. Richard Thompson at the Boulder Theater. Kan'nal at the Fox.

And I am sure I'm missing a few in the list. I've been lucky, some of the shows I have recordings of. Some pure memories. My favorite? John Denver at the Augusta Civic Center. Why? A couple of reasons. It is the first concert I ever attended...Mom took me. And somewhere in that crowd, Hope was listening to the very same show. Before I ever knew who she was....

My soundtrack for tonight:

Sorry I Am	Ani DiFranco
Blackbird	Evan Rachel Wood
Daughters	John Mayer
Untouchable Face	Ani DiFranco
Arms Of A Woman	Amos Lee
Make You Feel My Love	Bob Dylan
School Night	Ani DiFranco
Pink Moon	Nick Drake
La Mer	Kevin Kline
Over The Rainbow/What A Wonderful World	Melvin Amina
Dear Prudence	Across The Universe Cast
Hallelujah	Leonard Cohen
The Story	Brandi Carlile
Fixing Her Hair	Ani DiFranco
Blackbird	Sarah McLachlan
Painters	Jewel
Romeo And Juliet	Dire Straits
The Only Living Boy In New York	Simon & Garfunkel
American Skin (Live)	Bruce Springsteen
Turpentine	Brandi Carlile
Love Love Love	Tristan Prettyman
Youngstown (Live)	Bruce Springsteen
Trying To Get To Heaven	Bob Dylan
Thumbing My Way	Pearl Jam
Til The Sun Turns Black	Ray Lamontagne
Streets of Philadelphia	Bruce Springsteen
Man of the Hour	Pearl Jam
Arms Of A Woman	Amos Lee
Time Has Told Me	Nick Drake
Always Feel This Way	Ray Lamontagne
Born In The U.S.A. (Live)	Bruce Springsteen
What Can I Say	Brandi Carlile
One	U2
32 Flavors	Ani DiFranco
Can I Stay	Ray Lamontagne
Love Sick	Bob Dylan
Boom Like That	Mark Knopfler
Mansion On The Hill (Live)	Bruce Springsteen
Standing In The Doorway	Bob Dylan
Barfly	Ray Lamontagne
La Vie En Rose	Madeleine Peyroux
La Vie En Rose	Louis Armstrong
If I Should Fall Behind (Live)	Bruce Springsteen
Gone Away From Me	Ray Lamontagne

Combining for memories

Brandon and I spent some time catching up on the phone tonight. Combining our conversation, this comic and a dinner of cheese brats done on the grill, I sat for a moment reverently cherishing a lost memory.

We travel back to a time when worries for food, mortgage, wife, child, dog or work were naught. It was one of the first times I had been left home in Mercer to my own devices. Of course, Brandon was always caught up in those devices.

We purchased two juicy steaks, made some rice and spent some time cooking the beef to perfection. Soy sauce, pepper and garlic combined to make the perfect minute marinade. That may have been the first time we realized that we were somewhat self sufficient and could cook food that was palatable (no more Mister P's). That summer eve's dinner is exactly what memories are made of.

And now, every time I open my grill, I chase the memory of that first meal. Good friends, good food and the lack of worries or concerns. The way any meal should be served.

I remembered that today is a special day!!!

Today is the birthday of a wonderful and dearly loved friend. Our friendship dates back to high school when we met in the trumpet section of band class. That was, wow, 17 years ago at Waterville Senior High. Funny how those days were so simple. We could spend hours sitting on top of my old truck, staring at the clouds. She was there the first time I had a silly, goofy little grin after my first date with my wife to be. I'd love to say she followed me to Middlebury but we all know she belonged at Midd far more than did I. Upon graduation, she was here in Colorado for several years, joining me on such late night excursions as a Rover trip into the snowy mountains to huddle in sleeping bags and watch the Leonids. She has since moved to San Fran where she introduced me to Gockey and then Boston where she has earned her Master's Degree.

The point is, she has been around to support me during all the momentous points of my life. She has been a sounding board for ideas, a critic and helper of the songs I have written, a crutch for when I've needed support, a Reverend for a wedding and a close friend of Hope for years.

I owe a great deal my friend and my little sister. Today I owe her a big hug for her 30th birthday. Sadly, I am too far away so this will have to do.

Happy Birthday, Reverend Phoebe!