Stacy's Mom

Listen while you read: (It's Mother's Day)

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Stacy, can I come over after school?
We can hang around by the pool
Did your mom get back from her business trip?
Is she there, or is she trying to give me the slip?

You know, I'm not the little boy that I used to be
I'm all grown up now, baby, can't you see?

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on
She's all I want, and I've waited for so long
Stacy, can't you see you're just not the girl for me
I know it might be wrong, but I'm in love with Stacy's mom

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on . . . 

~  Fountains of Wayne

I certainly don't mean to be snarky, but here's my offering for Mother's Day 2017. I mean, it's a song with a Mom in it, right? Fountains of Wayne released "Stacy's Mom" on Welcome Interstate Managers in 2003. Seriously, the song is fourteen years old already? I remember buying the CD when it was released. I was not even a year into widowhood, and I was mourning the fact that my late husband had died before Fountains of Wayne had a big hit. Pete grew up in Wayne, after all. The band's name comes from an oddly revered garden center on Rt. 23 in Wayne, a sort of kitschy landmark that anyone driving to or from NYC would recognize as something that existed between suburbia and the "vast wilderness of rednecks and retired hippies" that is my home in New Jersey.

I also remember ironing in my bedroom one afternoon, blasting out the song and singing along. I was not aware that a couple of my kids and their friends were in the next room. It was one of those moments when their teenage brains could not discern between pride and horror that their own mother would be rocking out to such a song. "Mom, do you know what this song is about?" one of them asked. Duh.

And that scene, above, is what motherhood is about. Those sad, sweet, silly, stressful, and sentimental moments that get stored in your head to be retrieved fourteen years later when you're wishing that we didn't have these artificial "holidays" to endure. One day out of 365 to be good to your mother? What's wrong with this picture?

While I will be saying so long to one of my children on Mother's Day morning as I leave her home in North Carolina to continue my journey north, my other two offspring live too far away to see. It is what it is, just another day. I will spend this Mother's Day driving, rocking out to the tunes, getting closer and closer to my northern home in a state I share with Fountains of Wayne.

Putting my snarkiness aside, I hope your day is a good one, whether or not you are a mother, have a mother, or want to one day be a mother.

Sir Duke

Listen while you read:  Sir Duke

Music is a world within itself
With a language we all understand
With an equal opportunity
For all to sing, dance, and clap their hands
But just because a record has a groove
Don't make it in the groove
But you can tell right away at letter A
When the people start to move

They can feel it all over
They can feel it all over, people
They can feel it all over
They can feel it all over, people

Music knows it is and always will be
One of the things that life just won't quit
But here are some of music's pioneers
That time will not allow us to forget
For there's Basie, Miller, Sachmo
And the king of all, Sir Duke
And with a voice like Ella's ringing out
There's no way the band can lose

You can feel it all over

~  Stevie Wonder

I am old enough to remember "Little Stevie Wonder" and his first hit, "Fingertips," in 1963. Born in the same year, Stevie Wonder and I were both entering our teen years. But while I'd been taking piano lessons and practicing for six years, it had become clear to me that I had no musical talent. And here was this blind kid playing piano on a hit record. I was in awe.

"Sir Duke" appears on Songs in the Key of Life, released in 1976. It is Wonder's tribute to Duke Ellington. Now, let me tell you a little story. On the night of May 23, 1974, I had a dream that Ted Kennedy died. I was a big fan of the Kennedys, so the dream disturbed me. As I recalled the dream on my drive to work the next morning, I turned on the radio to find out if I had psychically predicted that death. The news revealed, however, that Duke Ellington had died. No mention of Ted Kennedy's demise. So I wasn't psychic after all.

In reading the newspaper later that day, I learned that Ellington's real name was not "Duke." His name was "Edward Kennedy Ellington." True story.

And why did I pick this song for today? My oldest daughter is graduating with another masters degree from Duke University! And I will be there with her to celebrate! She will also have earned her teaching certificate with this degree, and like her mother before her, will be pursing a career as a teacher of English. In other words, she will be giving up every weekend of her life to grade papers as part of the best career there is.

Congratulations, Katrina! Here's to your future! I can feel it all over. XO

Wagon Wheel

Listen while you read: Wagon Wheel

Headed down south to the land of the pines
I'm thumbing' my way into North Caroline
Starin' up the road and pray to God I see headlights

I made it down the coast in seventeen hours
Pickin' me a bouquet of dogwood flowers
And I'm a hopin' for Raleigh 
I can see my baby tonight

So rock me, Mama, like a wagon wheel
Rock me, Mama, any way you feel
Hey, Mama, rock me
Rock me, Mama, like the wind and the rain
Rock me, Mama, like a southbound train
Hey, Mama, rock me

~  Bob Dylan and Ketch Secor (Old Crow Medicine Show)

Who doesn't love this song? Although it appeared on the 2004 release O.C.M.S., it was a few years later that the song became well-known. Maybe more people heard it when Darius Rucker recorded it in 2012? I don't know; I knew it long before that. Four years ago, I went with two of my kids (who were both living in New England at the time) to see a concert in New Hampshire. It was Old Crow Medicine Show and The Avett Brothers. My son was mad that The Avetts got top billing, and I kind of understand why. Although both bands put on amazing shows, it could be argued that Old Crow exhibited more versatility. This is one of those bands in which all the members can just switch off instruments because they are so multi-talented.

You may have been surprised to see Bob Dylan get some credit for writing the song. Apparently, he wrote the chorus and the melody during the Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid time. Somehow Ketch Secor of Old Crow got ahold of that much and added the verses. Google it if you're interested; it's a cool story. And it includes a geographical mistake which can only be attributed to youth and inexperience.

And I'm a hopin' for Raleigh / I can see my baby tonight. While you are reading this, I am on the road again, heading for Raleigh-Durham, and I hope to be there some time tonight. My first-born (my baby) awaits me there. Unlike the singer in Old Crow Medicine Show, I am going north, not south, and I am driving, not hitching. And there's no way that I am enjoying a nice long toke. But I am enjoying some good tunes on the drive. Hey, Mama, rock me.

And if you haven't already, watch the video (linked above). It's a hoot.

Russians

Listen while you read:  Russians

In Europe and America, there's a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets
Mr. Krushchev says he will bury you
I don't subscribe to this point of view
It would be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children, too

How can I save my little boy from Oppenheimer's deadly toy?
There is no monopoly in common sense
On either side of the political fence
We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children, too

There is no historical precedent
To put the words in the mouth of the President
There's no such thing as a winnable war
It's a lie we don't believe anymore
Mr. Reagan says we will protect you
I don't subscribe to this point of view
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children, too.

We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
What might save us, me and you
Is if the Russians love their children, too

~  Sting

"It's not a pro-Soviet song. It's pro-children," said Sting. Appearing on 1985's Dream of the Blue Turtles, the song was written during the Cold War, which lasted from 1947 to 1991, ending two years after the fall of the Berlin Wall. The Soviet Union no longer exists, nor do Krushchev, Reagan, or Oppenheimer. And the children about whom Sting sang are now in their 30s. But the theme of the song is eerily prescient. What might save us, me and you, is if the Russians love their children, too.

And of course they do. I chose this song today as a reminder to us all. As the political dysfunction intensifies, we need to step back from the labels we use to separate ourselves from one another and the artificial borders used to divide the planet in order to recognize our common humanity. While this is hard to do in regard to the power-hungry "leaders" who complicate our world, it is not that difficult to acknowledge the very human elements of love and family that we share, no matter where our homeland. We share the same biology regardless of ideology.

It is so easy to target and blame "the other." We do it all the time. Perhaps it is just human nature to do so? Is there a difference between hating political leaders and hating entire political parties? Is there a difference between hating foreign governments and hating the citizens of those countries? If one chooses to hate an alien population, does that include the children of that population?

In no way do I want this current corrupt administration to get a pass on its assistance in the compromising of our democracy. Bring on the appointment of a special prosecutor to conduct an independent investigation of the Trump - Russian ties. Priority One. But in our enthusiasm to trash "the Russians," let's remember that, indeed, the Russians love their children, too.

It's a Great Day to Whup Somebody's Ass

Listen while you read:  You're fired!

Have you ever had one of those days when nothing goes right?
Your wife starts bitching about whatever it was she was bitching about last night
So you escape into the bathroom just to sit there on your throne
But after you finish your business, the toilet paper's gone

Well, it's a great day for me to whup somebody's ass
It's a bad day, so you better get off my back
You might get cold-cocked if you cross my path
'Cause it's a great day for me to whup somebody's ass

~  Donald Trump  Paul Thorn

Well, the star of The Apprentice did it again. In case you've been vacationing on another planet (which sometimes sounds like a good idea), James Comey, Director of the FBI, was relieved of his duties last night. As the NYT tells it, Comey was making a presentation to some FBI agents in LA when the TV screens behind him revealed that Comey had been fired. Comey thought it was a prank, a funny one. And then he was escorted into another room where he learned, once again, of the impetuous behavior of the man who holds the nuclear codes.

I got to see Paul Thorn last month, which you may recall from my post on April 21. Wry and honest, Thorn's lyrics tell it like it is. He is as entertaining a live performer as anyone could want, and I hope I have the opportunity to see/hear him again. In searching for songs about getting fired, this one came up. It appears on 2003's Camel Toe. Later in the song, the persona does get fired and plots his revenge. We can only hope that Comey is doing the same, although preferably without the use of a crowbar.

This latest event, 110 days into an SMH administration, has sent the country reeling. Journalists, government agencies, politicians, and all us regular folk are scratching our heads in disbelief. And some of us (including me) are hoping that finally, this is the beginning of the end. We of a certain age remember Watergate all too well. Saturday Night Massacre? The parallels are blatantly obvious.

Once again, fasten your seatbelts. There are a few more bumps ahead. And be sure to turn the music up. Loud. It helps.

Teacher Teacher

Listen while you read: Teacher Teacher

Young love, teacher's pet
Cheeks flushed, apple red
Ringing you every day
Begging for a word of praise
I've put aside my foolish games
I run and hide and call names
School's out, the bells'll ring
Now's the time to teach me everything

Teacher, teacher, teach me love
I can't learn it fast enough
Teacher, teacher, teach me more
I've got to learn to love for sure

Lesson one, just begun
Growing up ain't much fun
Growin' up, out of school
Out of luck and out of rules
No one there to tell me how
A different world, teacher, teach me now

Lesson two, nothing new
I can't love, just passing through

~  Phillips / Pickett (Rockpile)

Okay, so don't read too much into this. Did I have crushes on teachers when I was a kid? Of course. Did any of my students have crushes on me? Probably. Is this unusual? Not at all. As much as it disturbs me greatly when I read in the news about some liaison between a teacher and student, I do understand how easily it can happen. And I am grateful that it never happened to me.

Disclaimer done. And why did I pick this song today? Because it's National Teacher Appreciation Day!  Sure, I could have picked "Teach Your Children" or "To Sir, With Love." But "Teacher, Teacher" makes me want to get up and dance! Appearing on 1980's Seconds of Pleasure, Rockpile's only album, the song endures, at least in my head. Nick Lowe's voice may be pretty grovelly these days, but I still like him.

A few years ago, I attended a multi-year class reunion for students I taught early in my career. It was a lot of fun seeing what these eternal teenagers (in my head) had become. One of them, Diane, greeted  me with this: "I always remember that 'a lot' is two words!" And I immediately recalled saying to my students, "If you learn nothing else from me, learn that 'a lot' is two words!"

Well, I hope I taught them more than that! I hope I taught them love. Love of literature, love of language, love of ideas, love of learning. Love of music. I hope I taught them tolerance and compassion. I hope I taught them responsibility and accountability. I hope I taught them that all great literature is about what it means to be human. And that if poets ran the world, there would be peace.

Teaching is hard work. It's emotionally exhausting. It's the best career there is. And I liked it. A lot.

I want to thank Mrs. Newton, Mrs. Lawrence, Mr. Sim, Mr. Kinney, Mr. Molina, Mrs. Jeager, Ms. Brown, Mrs. Dewhurst, Mr. Walko, Mr. Mull, Mr. Kleedorfer, Joe Bellamy, Mark Doty . . . and a lot of others. What teachers do you want to thank?

Get Out the Map

Listen while you read: Get Out the Map

The saddest sight my eyes can see
Is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down under the trees
Sitting in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee
This perfect moment will soon be leaving me

Suzanne calls from Boston, the coffee's hot, the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite enough to keep you crying
Or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye

Get out the map, get out the map, and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water. There seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head, I'm gonna drink that sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young

~  Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls)

I love maps. I always have. Even when my world never extended beyond the tri-state area (NJ, NY, PA), I loved studying maps. Perhaps it was just that the names of places were so intriguing. Or maybe it was the reality that there were towns and streets and houses and people in so many places! There was a promise that one day, my world might become larger.

And it has. It just took a long time. As the old saying goes, when you have the time, you don't have the money. And when you have the money, you don't have the time. I'm comfortable enough with both right now, and I'm still pretty healthy, so . . . get out the map!

There are maps covering both my kitchen and dining room tables right now, and my guy and I are map-deep in finalizing our itinerary for a summer road trip in the Northwest. Our route is set: two countries, two provinces, four states, and ten national parks and monuments, with ocean, rivers, mountains, forests, bridges, ferries, cities and towns along the journey. And lots and lots of driving.

I remember that when I was a kid you could pick up road maps for free at gas stations. And I did. In the age of the Global Positioning System and Google Maps, the need for actual road maps has decreased significantly. I am grateful that my AAA membership allows me to secure all the maps I need, along with tour books. And, in case you were wondering, I am quite adept at folding the paper maps. Old habits die hard.

Before this exciting Northwest adventure happens, I will be undertaking a couple of smaller road trips on my own, beginning with the drive back north this weekend. Not as much fun, but somebody has to do it. Before I leave, however, I hope to have all our lodging booked for the Northwest; four more to go. And then the fun part of the planning begins, pouring over the maps and tour books to design each day's adventure. How many waterfalls can we hike to? Where can we get the best views of the mountains and volcanoes? Should we zipline over the gorge? Are there any concerts we want to see? Where are the 4th of July fireworks? Will it snow in the mountains in July?

I'm gonna clear my head / I'm gonna drink that sun / I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young.

Get out the map.