jam

so often when i listen to live music, i find myself fixated on who i wish were also there, hearing and seeing the performance.  i can be obsessed with my certainty that this person or people would be transformed or should be exposed or inspired by what i am experiencing.  i will torture myself with trying to record the most exemplary clips or trying to capture the tone and magic of a live performance with still photography.  (from a phone, to make it all the more absurd.)   and at the end of the show, i leave wistful.  

it just occurred to me last night:  what an idiotic waste of a concert that has been. 

ironically, that clarity arrived at the end of a show in which a misguided, ungrateful thought of who could be enjoying it alongside me never once entered my mind.  i can't claim that i realized the irony of hinging my enjoyment on that of another and hence consciously made this change though. it was more likely due to the fact that one of those who i often long to share things with was there with me: todd.   

a first, of its sorts, really.  though i've taken him to many concerts, we've never shared a table at a live music venue (i.e. a bar) and sat shoulder to shoulder as adults...  perhaps it's semantics.  perhaps it's maternal nostalgia.  or maybe it was the glass of wine i enjoyed.  whatever the cause, i contend it was a first.  

my memory uses shorthand when it comes to media.  i rarely remember what a book was about, what happened in a film, or even who sings a song or what a certain musician's style is.  but in the scribbling notes of my mind, i can usually recall my opinion.  often it's as rudimentary as a thumbs up or down; but occasionally there's an exclamation scrawled in the margin.  

when todd asked me about the musician i invited him to see last night, i said, the most amazing f'ing guitarist i've ever seen.   he asked what kind of music he played.  shrug  he asked me who his music resembled.  shrug  he was understandably skeptical of my high marks with little to substantiate and said, i guess i'll see..but he won't hold a candle to hendrix, i'm sure.  silently i hoped to myself that my memory's headline wasn't skewed or exaggerated.  

it wasn't.  

and when i looked over at todd's face, transfixed on the magic happening a mere seven or eight feet away, the only person brought to mind was myself at his age...  there's nothing quite like being audience to a jam.  a spontaneous merging of magnanimous talent and the acoustic art that it creates.  

jam.  yum.  

my favorite way to spend a saturday night and put on a biscuit sunday morning. 

d:  savor the sweetness, jessica

b:  my shorthand review held up

g:  the musicians in my life

eighteen

eighteen and sixteen.  the boys are officially on their way out.  

friday night, todd's birthday request was attending the opening of Straight Outta Compton.  so, we threw our fifty buck contribution into the $60 million box office debut and claimed seats at the theater that topped the country in opening weekend Compton ticket sales.   

that's right.  an atlanta theater holds the #1 position in box office sales for last weekend, leading a top ten with nine LA area theaters.  (why do i feel a touch of pride about that?) 

what a movie.  tremendously moving.  engrossing in the complexity.  heart-breakingly enlightening.  and in contrast to the aforementioned pride, utterly humbling.  

one of the pivotal events in the film occurred in my eighteenth year and the entirety of the story spanned my adolescence.  yet, here i am over twenty years later, sitting beside my eighteen year old son,  and getting an education.  although the music and names were familiar, the story was altogether foreign to me.  and that was so very sobering.  

it's boggling how much longer my own childhood felt to me than my boys' has.  to me.  although at times i've thought their "eighteen" would never arrive; overall, the paradox of time has compressed their youth into an instant. 

however, when i left the theater friday night shoulder-to-shoulder with my peers and his, i realized how much broader his life experience has been, than mine was at the same age.  so much content in so little time.  how much bigger his world is.  and in turn, how much bigger mine is.  

ever-expanding.  

ever-learning. 

ever-grateful. 

d:  put it on the required viewing list.  everyone.  asap.  

b:  straight outta lake claire, my heart and mind were moved

g:  shared experiences that continue to enlarge my world

surf

there's a metaphor i've heard used to describe the world view i hold and it goes something like this... just as every drop of the ocean is wholly ocean, the ocean is wholly comprised of these drops.  (substitute each of us for each drop and the ocean for a universal spirit and you get the idea.) 

perhaps it's because i grew up at the ocean or perhaps it's my water sign dominance, but for whatever reason that depiction of spirit has always resonated with me strongly.  and because of that, or maybe owing to this, i find great comfort and renewal in water.  when things are uncertain or upended in my life, i am drawn to it and without exception it brings me back to clarity and alignment with my better side.  

i spent saturday on the lake with friends and while i was there, something caught my attention...and has remained there nagging at me and asking to be incorporated to my world view metaphor.  it was a water sport.  one i've never seen before.  granted, i've spent most of my water hours in the salted variety; but over the past (nearly) twenty years that i've lived in atlanta, i've gotten my lake water-wings too.  and in neither setting have i seen this particular skill in this particular way.  

the boat involved was moving quite slowly and, with an inboard motor, creating a deep wake behind it.  the young guy performing was, at first, holding a ski rope with one hand and standing on a surf board, off to the side of the boat.  the rope was loose, with plenty of slack and i was at first boggled by what was going on.  within seconds, he had dropped the rope and repositioned himself on the board, maintaining an easy balance.  

the boat was still moving peculiarly slowly, very close to the guy, but the casual body language of the board-rider made it clear that all was going according to plan.  next thing you know (and though i'm drawing out the story, this was all within a matter of a few seconds..) he was surfing.  

literally surfing the perpetual and steady wave created behind the boat.  i laughed when i realized how obvious it all was and watched in awe.  i'm not a surfer myself, so this is pure speculation, but i imagine the hardest part of surfing is waiting for the perfect wave.  spotting it, timing it, wiping your brow at the wrong second and missing it, waiting for it again.  

this guy, however, had found a way to capitalize on the inherent, perfect curl that follows a slow moving boat and ride it.  quite simply, ride it.  truly genius.  

while so many lake sportsmen (and sportswomen) are trying to find the smooth, glassy place between the wake's wave and remain steadily within it; this guy was relishing the leading edge of forward motion and riding it.   something i can easily bring into my ever-evolving metaphor of life.

d:  casual, easy balance in the curl

b:  i've caught the perfect wave

g:  a lesson learned and a spirit renewed

responsible

what a heavy word that is.  responsible.

re·spon·si·ble
rəˈspänsəb(ə)l/
adjective
1. having an obligation to do something, or having control over or care for someone, as part of one's job or role.
2. being the primary cause of something and so able to be blamed or credited for it.
3. (of a job or position) involving important duties, independent decision-making, or control over others.
4. having to report to (a superior or someone in authority) and be answerable to them for one's actions.
5. capable of being trusted.
6. morally accountable for one's behavior.

as i suspected, the definitions are chock full of even heavier words: obligation, cause, blame, important, control, morally accountable, answerable. eek. my feet are sinking deeper into the ground, the more i type.

i've been thinking a lot about that word... i was forced to be responsible at a young age. i worked young. i moved out young. i made good grades. i knew the burden of college tuition was mine alone. i volunteered with my church youth group. i volunteered alone. i did all the things that we say young people should do in order to deem them responsible. and i felt the full weight of that word.

as an adult, at times i've found myself drawn to those who don't feel it. those who aren't particularly responsible. those who either intentionally or not have created lives with less of that burden. i've made valiant (read: extreme) efforts to shed my lead cloak but eventually reality jerked me back and only lately have i recognized that both are possible. in moderation.

but that's not the definition of responsible that i've been most fixated on lately. i've been listening to some audio books (an attempt to keep my eyes off my kindle and/or phone while driving) that have impressed me with their ability to articulate a very single-minded idea in so many different ways. a thesaurus of phrasing around one very simple concept. chapter after chapter around one single thought. example after example illustrating one principle.

i am responsible for my happiness.
only i am responsible for my happiness.

upon first hearing this, i felt the full weight of that responsibility. smothering almost. unable to look to my surroundings or conditions left me with only myself to paint my emotional landscape. every color in the spectrum from the darkest grey to the brightest, happiest yellow, to the angriest crimson: the full palette placed solely in my hands.

and then, as i kept listening, and kept listening, and kept listening (i have a long commute, every single day, after all), i heard something else.

i am responsible for only my happiness.

d: may i keep my hands on my own brushes and paints
b: my palette is full of nuance and depth
g: only one, very manageable, canvas for which i am responsible

footnote

i got a new purse today and in the process of assigning things to pockets and compartments, i dumped three other purses out on the kitchen table.  and as i sorted and purged, i made a huge pile of coins.  i wish i'd weighed them.  it's no wonder my shoulders hurt all the time and my number one criteria for the new purchase was:  lightweight.   (as if the weight of the purse itself was ever the problem.)

i couldn't help but notice the variety of quarters accumulating on the table and on a whim i started setting aside the state quarters.  45 minutes later, after three purses' worth of coins and two dresser-top piggy banks, i counted quarters from 39 different states!  (and oddly enough, two states had two quarters each, with different designs.  i don't know what that's all about.)  

in my appreciation of the individuality of each coin and the creativity of some, i noticed something that stopped me in my tracks.  yesterday i wrote about two very special states and their lack of respect for their citizens.  i didn't reveal the states, (though there was a link if you made it to the end and bothered) but now i think i must.  consider this a footnote to yesterday's editorial on the subject. 

"The Equality State"

any idea which one that might be?  you'll never guess.  

wyoming.  

you know, the land of cowboys and indians.  there's even a cowboy riding a bucking mustang on the coin, to jog your memory.  i couldn't for the life of me imagine what that motto was referring to.  admittedly, i know nothing of wyoming; but when i think of cowboys and indians, equality is not a word that comes to mind.  at all.  

when we settled wyoming, there were five Native American tribes occupying the plains there:  Arapaho, Shoshone, Ute, Crow and Cheyenne.  only two remain, Shoshone and Arapaho, and they share a single reservation.  

equality, indeed.  

apparently the nickname was given to wyoming because they were the first to grant women the right to vote.  yee haw.  even as a voting american woman i am again disgusted by this state and find their use of the word equality an insult to the principle itself.  

d:  again...wyoming, show some respect!  

b:  39 out of 50 is pretty damn good

g:  learning a bit of our american history, no matter the disgust factor

worth-more

whenever i put off a blog topic for 'tomorrow', without fail, i lose the creative inspiration on said topic.  so this will be brief.  

with todd's 'summer employment', so to speak, and all the discussion of minimum wage in the news, it's sparked some dialogue at our house.  i won't carry on about how our federal minimum wage ($7.25/hr) isn't even a remotely reality-based, livable wage; because that's been discussed plenty elsewhere.  i have another bone to pick today.  (my passion on this is coming back...as i write!)

yesterday i read a headline regarding the city of new york and their wage board's approval of an increase from their current state minimum wage of $8.75 to $15.00 an hour, over the next few years.  though it costs a small mint to live in new york and this probably still won't even begin to reach a livable-wage level, at least the city and state are willing to acknowledge the issue and take some steps.  

and many states are taking these steps.  twenty-nine states have a minimum wage that's higher than the national minimum.  fifteen states index their wage to the rising cost of living and automatically adjust each year, with five more states adopting that protocol over the next four years.  

then there are two states with very special minimum wages laws.  and i mean very special.   in these states they have maintained their wage at the level our federal government instated eighteen years ago.  EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO!  the federal government raised the national minimum wage over their 2015 level, eight years ago, by raising the 1997 $5.15/hour rate to $5.85/hour.  

that's right.  if you followed that convoluted paragraph, your head should be spinning.  in these two states, the state mandated minimum wage is $5.15 an hour.  but what about the federal rate?  doesn't that apply?  that's what you're thinking, right?  well, yes, generally it does, with a few exceptions. 

which is why i find this even more appalling.  in these two states (and i won't spoil the surprise by telling you which ones they are), the legislators are telling their businesses and citizens that, despite the wage Washington is forcing us to dictate, in the state of _________, you are worth less.  much less.  and if we had our druthers, we'd pay you 30% less than what is already admittedly a pittance.  

when i went to lunch today, i left my car parked in direct sunlight for an hour or so.  when i returned, the outside thermometer on it read 101.  the heat out there was pretty unbearable and i immediately thought how grateful i was to work inside on a day like today.  

and then i thought of the people who don't.  those who work in agriculture or fishing.  those who work maintenance for landlords.  those who do landscaping or work for a small business, as a laborer.  those are arguably the most difficult jobs to perform in july here in georgia.  and those, those are the people whose employers are not subject to the national wage law.  those are the ones who are legally allowed (in two very special states) to deem their employees worth less.  

in case you're curious, the other wage-earners that aren't worth the national inadequacy, are full-time students.  because, in these two very special states, working your way through college is worth less. and even employers who may have to pay their other employees $7.25/hour, are legally allowed to give full-time students $5 dollars and fifteen cents an hour.    

d:  states, show some respect!  

b:  i found the passion for this topic that i set aside on wednesday, after all.

g:  the cities and states that say their residents are worth more

payoff

i was a kid that always had a job growing up.  and i mean, always.  when i was 14 i went to the mall mcdonald's and told the manager i was 15.  he said, well, you really need to be 16 to work here, but we'll just change the year by one...  the school was lax about handing out work permits, so i picked up a blank one and magically i entered the work force, one basket of french fries at a time.   

that was my first job, and thankfully short-lived, but there was never a gap in my employment after that for more than a few weeks.  (at least not that i can recall.) i won't do the math for you, but suffice it to say since i've been working for over a quarter of a century, i consider myself something of an authority on the matter. 

having been a teenager that always was balancing academics, social, and a part time job myself,  i've spent a good deal of time thinking about how i'd approach that matter with my own children.  it definitely contributed to my responsibility and problem-solving skills and instilled a firm grasp on the value of a dollar, but these lessons came at a price.  i rarely attended a football game.  i couldn't travel to atlanta with my third year french class to see Les Mis.  i was involved in very few academic extra-curriculars and none that met after school.  and i believed myself an island, rather than a family member, in my household; prompting me to move out as soon as i got a car and turned 18...spring of my senior year.  

i've told both my boys that i wouldn't allow them to work during the school year,  (not that they are beating the door down to enter the work force, mind you); but after todd's sophomore year of high school i did tell him i wanted him to either work or volunteer over the summer.  in other words, playing video games and sleeping the days away weren't going to cut it for his summer pastime.  (at the heart of this was my grandmother's refrain, 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop'.)

when we first discussed it, todd was confused as to why he would volunteer if a paying job was the alternative.  a reasonable question for a sixteen year old, right?  i expected it and was prepared. 

this time in your life is unique.  there aren't many others like it.  you don't have to make money to live right now.  you have the ability to spend your time doing something that may make a difference to you and others, exploring things you are curious about or passionate about.  learning and experiencing life in ways you haven't yet.  

he countered that a paying job would be a new experience too.  (did i mention he's a varsity debater?) but again, i was prepared.  (apple...tree, yeah, you get it.)

i don't want you to make this decision based on something as trivial as minimum wage. if you would rather get a job in retail or fast food, by all means, go for it.  but if you find a cause or organization you'd rather donate your time to, i will pay you the same wage you'd make elsewhere.  

(mom 1, todd 0)

he took me up on that offer and volunteered last summer at a children's theater.  not as many hours as i'd have liked, but it did have the intended impact.  he felt great about his contribution there.  he told me after two days that he would have done it even if i weren't paying him.  (never mind that he wouldn't have known this fact...details)  and as a bonus, the universe rewarded him for his generosity of time with someone special.  (they just celebrated a first year anniversary.)

(mom 1, todd 1) 

so this summer when we started talking about his plan, he mentioned getting a job.  he wanted to earn money because now he has something to spend it on (see aforementioned someone special).. and had a few ideas of places to apply.  but then one day, as we chatted about this, he said wistfully, i wish i could volunteer at the civil rights museum...  and i said, well, why didn't you ask?  

he enthused, really??  you'd do that again?? 
wave of gratitude rushed over me.
it worked. 
he is passionate about human and civil rights.  he truly is moved to tears by the violations he reads of.  and he initiated this giving of his time from the place i hoped it would come, his heart.

this exchange was an unexpected bonus for me.  i realized that, in fact, he had learned something i thought unattainable from unpaid work: the value of a dollar.  and an appreciation that this offer i made him is worth much more than he would be paid bagging groceries at kroger.

(mom 2, todd 1)

d:  tomorrow i'll write the blog i had intended to write today
b:  i win!
g:  a payoff much bigger than the amount paid