Guitar, Dylan & Stuff

Saw Dylan on Wednesday night. The seats could not have been better. Six rows from the stage, dead center. I've seen Dylan numerous times, and I'm about as loyal to him as I am anyone. I feel that way about people sometimes, and I tend to overlook their less savory traits in the process. Take Elvis, for example. I know everything he did, and who he did it with. I've read all the stories, but still, I'm willing to look past it. Same with Dylan. He's got scars and flaws miles deep. I don't suspect for a second that he always treate people with the greatest kindness. I don't believe that he didn't use, abuse, and choose to treat probably more than his fair share of people poorly. But I'm willing to overlook it. I'll overlook Jerry Lee seemingly being half-crazed. Hank Williams drinking. Neil Young being flaky.--That's why it pained me so much that I didn't like the show. It was just flat and boring and too uneven for me to sink me teeth into. And I really wanted to. I had been looking forward to that show as about as much as any. I scouted the tix out way in advance. The Kings of Leon was awesome opening up (much more full of spirit and intensity than Dylan's hired hands; brother tend to play that way together). So it was a major downer that it didn't move me more. Others I know who went had different takes, so it could just be me.

I love my guitars, but I'm thinking about buying a new acoustic. I feel like I'm cheating on a wife or something about when I play me other one. It's my first, and it's the one I taught myself to play on.

Just when you think your down

your not. I was reading some blog entries of a friend of mine who went through a tradegy more than a year ago. Much pain. Much confusion. Much anger. I wish there were actions to carry out to comfort those who have been torn apart. But there aren't. Actions mean everything, but they mean nothing. Some pain doesn't go away. It can't. My thoughts are with him, but there also with me. You can learn much if you stop and recognize what's in front of you--if you dont' walk around it, step over it. Just look. Really look. And then recognize. Always recognize.

On getting old . . .

It's not getting older that I have uncertain feelings about; it's watching those around me get older. I've been to two funerals recently, both for men named Bob, and both were outstanding men for different reasons. And sitting through those funerals was pretty moving on both occasions for different reasons. But both times I took a good look around at the people gathered, and it was impossible not to notice how they had aged. I don't see these people regularly any longer, so the gradual ebbs and flows we are all going through show up more intensely in them. Some faces never change, but everything else does. Some faces sink or expand. Some faces are still about the eyes or the smile or the nose. Some of these people I never knew very well. Some of them I knew very well but don't any longer. So of them I'll know well my entire life. Regardless, I've come away both times feeling sadder about these changes. I don't know why. It's not the age that they are reaching. That's always a secondary thought for me. It's the changes in my perception. These aren't the same people as when I knew them best.

It's amazing, though, how what some of these people represent to me never changes. The first Bob to pass was a family man. Loved his family. They loved him. Had three sons and a long-time wife. Best friends. The entire family made each other laugh. The latest Bob was my junior high teacher and neighbor. I never really appreciated all that he was teaching me, though, until much later. He set an example of how a man or woman should live life seemingly every day, by enjoying the minute for what it was, not for what it wasn't or could have been. He greeted every one with a smile and a question. The question was never anything to do with himself. Salt of the earth. Proud. Tolerate. Strict when he had to be. Teachers who touch the lives of hundreds of kids positively over many years are some of the best people. Men who love their families without question or care for them are the best fathers.

You can't help but to make an accessment of your life while at a funeral. You wonder if how your life will be celebrated and mourned, and by whom. You wonder are you living the minutes each day properly, taking notice of how to enjoy them. You wonder what wisdom you can obtain from those who have passed, what examples they've given you. You wonder how you can use their gifts. I'm not sure where I stand next to such men. Seems far away right now. But maybe it should feel that way, and maybe funerals are the best time for moving forward purposely.

A-rod, Buck O'Neil, and The Tigers

This article says it all about the Yankees v. Tigers series. It stills hurts to the touch, but I'm glad Leyland is the guy that got it done. Man, look around baseball and it seems fairly apparent how you have to build a ball club these days if you want to win: Get a young, energetic manager (Ozzie, Willie, Giradi) who has learned the ballgame from vets (LaRussa, Torre), or go back to the guys who have lived their entire lives in the game (Leyland, etc.). Then you get young guys who'll give you the team mentality (Granderson, etc.), plus a few vets who teach throughout the season (Zito, Rogers, Mags). Those young guys don't know any better than not to show emotion. I like that. When Bonderman pumped his fist after big outs . . . that was cool. So was when, I think it was Swisher, ran off the field in the A's game the other night with his arms stuck in the safe position after sliding home safely.

Anyway, it's time for A-rod to move on. Jeter’s not interested in protecting or going to bat for him, and he has no other friend in that organization now. He’ll bring back several pitchers in return, and somebody will probably want him, even at that payroll. He may even be willing to take a cut after this year, but I think the Yankees will eat some of it, as well. He'll be a great, great player again in two years. He'll go back to short next season for some team that will wins more than it loses. He’ll get his mind right, and he’ll make a huge comeback in two years. You heard it here first. I don’t think Torre will be around next year to shelter him, either. Besides, he'll never get a shot in NY again, and he shouldn't get one. He had three years to earn the $25 mil per. He knew there were going to be some expectations when all that money fell into his lap. And when the expectations came, he wasn’t ready to deliver.

I never met Buck O'Neil, but I have a friend I work with who did. Buck took quite a few photos with him, and my friend still talks about it with the same enthusiasm each time. That's pretty telling about who the guy was. I've heard him in radio interviews several times, and he was very sharp. His stories were amazing. I wonder how many books he could have spawned. I have another friend at work who is a Mets fan. She and her husband watch Ken Burns "Baseball" every year during spring training, which I think is a pretty good idea. She also met Buck O’Neil, and she’s sent along many stories over the months about baseball’s less known history.

The game has changed a lot over the years, but it hasn’t changed at all in others.

Colorado in the fall.

A lot of people never make it to the state until the winter, but for my money, the summer and the fall are the best times of year to head to Colorado. Last weekend's weather was about perfect, the people were incredibly nice, and the food was . . . well, it wasn't great, but that was my fault. The hikes were inspiring, and I can't wait to go back.