Master of None

This morning while driving to work the song “Butterfly” by The Choir came up on shuffle play and I immediately broke down in tears. This is one of the songs I consider to be a classic example of Tim Chandler’s style, with groaning swells and playful sliding in the instrumental section. The reason for the tears is that Tim Chandler passed away about two weeks ago and he will never again grace the world with new and exotic (yet still melodic) bass lines. But this post isn’t really about Tim’s passing, although it is related.

One of my daughters used to say that she wished she was really, really good at just one thing. My wife and I would argue that she is extremely talented at makeup (her own and friends who ask her to do their makeup for proms and photo shoots) but she denies it. Tim was an incredibly gifted musician, a man whose unique style should have elevated his name to that of Flea and Claypool (that is, if the world even knew what a bass player does, which in this case Tim often colored waaaaay outside of the lines). If there was one thing that Tim did well, it was music related.

In the past couple of days this started me thinking about myself. Is there anything I do really well? It would be fantastic if I could say that yes, I Kickapoo at my job but in reality, I’m a solid B player. There are a couple of A players on my team, including one guy who just received an employee of the quarter award for the second time in three years… out of a company of thousands. He’s now my arch-nemesis. My strength comes in creative solutions and while I started at this company when it was quite young, it’s since been bought out and most of the problems have been solved. And so I maintain data instead.

In mentioning this to my wife she stated that I’m good at woodworking and music, but I disagree. I’m capable at both (well, capable at woodworking and merely mediocre at music) but excel in neither. I can “get the job done” in both but I wouldn’t say that either of them is elevated to a level of fine craftsmanship. Which is pretty much my problem… the stereotypical “jack of all trades and master of none.” Perhaps hundreds of years ago I would have been a tinker, that guy driving from town to town in his wagon full of junk, fixing things just well enough so that there would be work for me again the next time I came to town. Or in the 1950s I think I would have been an excellent special effects guy, in a time when there were no rulebooks and you had to mix art with science and one guy had to do a little bit of everything. Or maybe I should have been a Jim Henson muppeteer. I’ve often found myself drawn to the world of puppets, although maybe this thought is because I just finished reading a book on the creation and history of Sesame Street.

My wife also mentioned writing and this is a tough one to gauge. Like music, I write because I have to*. I’ve been “coming up with content” ever since I learned to read and write. But how would I know if I’m decent at it? I’ve submitted a few of my stories for publication and all have been rejected. Sure, tales abound of some famous author who had a now classic novel rejected by thirty publishers before it found a home but my skin is not that thick. Maybe it should be. Maybe 2019 is the year I take the small trove of stories that I’ve written and shop them around in earnest. The problem is that no one gets rich on short stories and I really need to get rich by the summer of 2019. Seriously.

I don't mean for all of this to sound like a downer. I've had worse times in my life by far. It's just something ruminating in the back of my mind as I get closer to age 50 and come to terms with "Yeah, this is probably it. I shouldn't expect any kind of massive upswings." To quote another dead musician, "It is what it is what it is."

* If I don’t have something that I’m working on, like writing or a song or a home project, then I feel unconnected and of low worth. Yes, I know I should probably see a professional and get this fixed.

My Kids Need Friends

Within the past couple of years I've come to terms with the fact that God doesn't want me to have any Christian friends, or any friends* for that matter. I'm 47 and I've been praying and trying for a very long time and now I've given up. And I guess I'm okay with that. Really, what choice do I have?

The hard part is seeing your kids face rejection on the same front. Sure, I know I'm some kind of freak that causes normal people to feel uncomfortable**, but you want more for your kids. Thankfully God has blessed me with a wife from the same planet as me, though apparently from a different continent. My kids don't even have that. Many are the times that my wife and I have said that we wished we could just be "normal" and blend in with the people who spend all day golfing on Saturdays or hang out at tailgate parties or "get sports" or binge watch whatever is the latest hot show on Netflix. But it's not to be. And so we hope with each child that they may somehow break the curse and be blessed with friends.

But those apples fall close to the trees and such a genetic mutation is something Darwin could only dare dream about. Our kids are like us. Dorks. That don't fit in. The way I figure it, you've got the 40% of "normals" who all follow the same trends and do the same things, Christian or otherwise. I'm not knocking them. Like I said, many times I've wished I could just not care about things and just blend in. But even though there are more nerd/dorks/dweebs than normals they are fractured. There are the Star Wars geeks and the Star Trek geeks and the Dr. Who geeks. There are the music nerds who like jam bands like Phish and the Grateful Dead. And then there are the people who like Dave Matthews band, but I really think these are just normals. There are the Rush prog-rock fans and the (name your poison) prog rock fan. And ne'ver the two shall meet. Good luck finding someone similar in THAT mess!

We've been praying for years that God would give each of our children one good Christian friend. Just one. It's not like we're asking for them to have expensive sports cars or great hair. Just one Christian friend to encourage them and help them grow. Iron sharpens iron and that kind of thing. I mean, it's ultimately for HIS glory! All I'm asking is for another coal to be next to theirs so their passion isn't extinguished. But apparently God has so far reviewed our requests, flipped us the bird and said "Request denied, you dork. I only grant the prayers of normals." It's a bitter pill to swallow but I see no evidence to the contrary. This doesn't give me much hope that God's listening to our prayers for their future spouses.

* Meaning friends that I can call up and/or hang out with. I guess I'm pretty sucky at hanging out. I'm more of a "project" relationship person. I have a couple of cyber friends but no one closer than 100+ miles away.***

** And when I try to be normal I just become boring instead, mostly to myself.

*** As if this needed a punctuation mark, yesterday Tim Chandler, one of my very best long-distance friends, passed away. Tim or I would call each other every few months and he always made me laugh and feel loved. Now he's gone too.

This Too Didn't Pass Two

If you read this bloggy post and the updates you'll know that I bought the lavender Danelectro DC 59 but that it had a slight neck bend. After my original fix I had to lower two of the nut slots even more to make it in tune, which made one of the strings quite low. Playing it in my usual position (sitting on the floor of my basement, as is my want), the top horn would poke into my less-than manly chest. It still sounded great, though.

And then...

This past summer there was a Craigslist ad for a plum Mod 6 for $450. It ran for a good long while and I considered calling the guy up to see if I could come play it but I didn't want to waste his time. When it comes to electric guitar, I'm not even close to being qualified to play a $450 guitar, especially one that often goes for $600 on eBay due to it's rarity. Then the Craigslist ad went away and I settled for the $150 DC 59. And the boy was happy.

But not really.

Okay, I really was happy. I liked the DC59 plenty but it wasn't exactly a great player. And then a co-worker told me that the Craigslist ad came back. FOR $300!!! I am EXACTLY a $300 guitar player! The very next day, over my lunch, I met with the guy, gave the guitar an all-too quick look over, and handed over a wad of twenties.

Here it is! It's like a piece of modern art! After I spent an hour carefully cleaning everything (and spraying copious amounts of electronic contact cleaner into the switches to make them work reliably) it looks even better than in the picture (less dark, more sparkly). Even better, it plays like a dream and doesn't poke me in the chest!

So there I was with two Danelectro guitars in the house and only money for one. Fortunately Guitar Center has a 45 day return policy, even on used guitars! I couldn't believe it! It went back in a flash. The crazy thing is that if the guitar had been shipped on time I would have just missed the 45 day window. I'd say that was God giving me a tickle, which I need because right now I'm spiritually in cruise control. It just seems like nothing is happening and any prayers I toss up hit a lead ceiling. So this was a nice touch that He didn't have to do, a kind of "Hey kid, I'm watching out for you." Thanks, generous Diety!