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Posts for the date of Wednesday, July 03, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 2:24 PM |
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Being as tomorrow is Independence Day, a day which most people have previously only thought of as a day off from work during which they are allowed to drink heavily and play with explosives, I’ve been thinking of what is truly American.
With our presence on the world stage so often making the front page of newspapers world wide, and seeing our national pride distilled into Levis and Elvis, I’ve been looking around me to see what I felt were the true symbols of my country, outside of the flag. What espouses our values? What says, Liberty, Freedom and all the other things we value so highly.
So far my answer is nothing. You can’t really put a symbol to our freedom, nor can you visualize liberty. You can’t describe these things and they aren’t exactly something you can place in your pocket. Freedom to a farmer may be different than freedom to a stockbroker. And yet, we are one.
So I gave up. Instead, I turned to those things that are important to me to find this intangible feeling I get when I think about my country. Music, more than anything else, can give you a sense of place. It helps you touch the intangible and taste a phantom life. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s transporting, transformative and expressive.
So what music says “America”?
The Beach Boys. Their early music sends you to a place of innocence when a fast car and a girl at your side was all that mattered. You’d spend summer days in the sun and summer nights in the coolness of a movie theater, wondering whether or not to hold her hand. Loose clothing, warm water and fun, fun, fun. They dabbled in rebellion (“til your daddy takes the T-bird away), and pondered adolescent mistakes (“remember when I spilled Coke all over your blouse?”). The music of Brian Wilson evokes a feeling, a sense of place. It may call itself California, but it may remind you of mowing the lawn, driving a cool car and sitting with your girl. It’s sweet, innocent, and reminds you of a time when you didn’t worry about things so much. It’s the sound of youth. It’s the sound of an American youth. Does it ring true today? Perhaps not, since Brian and his collaborators never discussed popping a cap in anyone’s ass.
But Brian’s music, like America’s own youth, became disenchanted with the world around him. The music grew up, and many of his fans left. And yet, here is a distinct record of a youth losing his innocence and yet longing for the past. Pet Sounds, arguably the greatest album ever recorded, is filled with music that bridges childhood and adulthood. It doesn’t rebel, but it often asks why. Looks for answers:
I keep looking for a place to fit
Where I can speak my mind
I've been trying hard to find the people
That I won't leave behind
And yet it never loses that place. The seasons may change, but the truth of the matter remains. Whether it’s from the innocence of touting the toughness of your machine:
Superstock Dodge is windin' out in low
But my fuel injected Stingray's really startin' to go
Or your feeling of being lost amidst the world around you:
I'm a cork on the ocean
Floating over the raging sea
How deep is the ocean?
It doesn’t matter. This is a testament to youth, and the loss of it. It puts you in a place that is long forgotten. A place of innocence and lost innocence. When Coke, surfing, cruising and puppy love gives way to fear of isolation, lonliness, mortality and loss.
My other debatable American Icon is Bruce Springsteen. Springsteen took a unique American sound (Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, i.e. “Be My Baby”) and created his own style. One that is distinctly American.
Springsteen is like the continuation of the Beach Boys. He starts off jaded and confused. He doesn’t see the America that he has been promised. With the industrial skyline as his backdrop, Bruce longs for the open road, simple pleasures and an indescribable freedom.
In his songs, farmers, factory workers and union men are kindred spirits. They look at the mansion on the hill with disdain and longing. Their hands are course, their loves rough. And still, there is a pride in their toil, a pride in their hardship. Working construction is held up with office work. Sometimes the economy is tough in his music. Sometimes everything is wonderful. His music reflects where we stand, on the border between an industrial landscape and the untamed wilderness at our backs.
The innocence is still there, if a little tarnished. Bruce sings about sitting with his girl by his side. He sings of an ideal of a girl in the front seat next to you as you strike out on the great American journey:
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind, so Mary climb in
It's a town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win.
Again, Springsteen gives you a sense of place. It’s an America on the border between innocence and bitterness.
Lights out tonight
trouble in the heartland
Got a head-on collision
smashin' in my guts, man
I'm caught in a cross fire
that I don't understand
But there's one thing I know for sure girl
I don't give a damn
For the same old played out scenes
I don't give a damn
For just the in betweens
Honey, I want the heart, I want the soul
I want control right now
talk about a dream
Try to make it real
you wake up in the night
With a fear so real
Spend your life waiting
for a moment that just don't come
Well, don't waste your time waiting
So how does any of this mean America? Like I said, it’s hard to describe intangibles. Good music gives voice to emotion.
What does it mean to be American? I don’t know. What makes me proud of being an American? I know this country always believes there will be a better day. We recover. We always work, toil and sweat for a better life. We take pride in these things. Again, I can’t put my finger on it.
Perhaps it is because I live in a country that allows me to be who I am, no questions asked. Unless, of course, I’m a tax evader. Then, of course, someone is bound to ask questions.
“It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.”
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Posts for the date of Tuesday, July 02, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 1:04 PM |
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Wow. I'd like to say that the post below just really sucked. Sorry about that! See what being tired does to the brain???
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 12:28 PM |
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I feel I must take a few moments out of my hectic schedule these days to post something. If only for my own sanity! I’m cramming quite a bit of work into these few days and it’s driving me nuts.
Every time I receive an email in my work in-box I hear Buzz Lightyear ask, “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” Sometimes it rings true. Entirely too true.
Enough of that. On to other things.
Matilda’s seventh-birthday-extravaganza was held this weekend at a local water park. That was mistake number one. Water park. That’s insane. What were we thinking? The second mistake was actually inviting anyone outside of the family. The third mistake was holding the party during the day, under the cruelty of the sun. The fourth mistake was allowing the Brownie Bitches (more on them some other time) to stay with us. Yargh.
The party went well. Most of the kids are of the age where they are okay to wander this relatively small park alone. However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t walking around the park looking for the kids half the day.
One kid, who lives hear us, is obsessed with being accepted. For an entire week, this is all she could say, “I don’t know if I’ll enjoy the party if other kids are there. They probably won’t like me. I think you (Matilda) should do everything with me and not your other friends. I’ll be lonely if you don’t. I’m not sure if I could be your friend anymore if you pay attention to the other guests. Why did you invite them? They probably won’t like me and they’ll make fun of me.” And on and on and on.
We have pictures of this child watching Matilda open her gift on her actual birthday. Matilda is beaming with pride and happiness over her new American Girl doll while the neighbor has this look of pain and anger on her face.
But, she ended up doing fine at the party. For the first hour she wandered off alone and didn’t pay attention to the other children, which clearly didn’t give them the chance to hate her as she planned.
For the most part the other girls were great. All my nieces and nephews, of course, were wonderful and had a great time. However, one of Matilda’s friends did not. Her father stayed with her, much to my chagrin. This is a vibrant, intelligent child who is funny, loud and excitable. Except when her dad is around. Then she’s withdrawn, embarrassed, shy and almost on the verge of social collapse. He does this to her by protecting her within an inch of her life, always standing over her, coddling, cooing and fixing everything.
We invited this little girl over once. Her father nearly had a heart attack when he realized he couldn’t weasel his way into staying. He stammered and backed out of the house apologizing to his daughter. She batted her eyes and waved back, sadly. As soon as the door closed, she turned to Matlida and bellowed, “So what do you want to do first??” They played for three hours and screamed like wild banshees, having a wonderful time. The father called every thirty minutes to make sure she was okay. When I told him his daughter was walking around the house acting like an elephant he nearly passed out. He double-checked to make sure we were talking about the same girl.
She came down with a mysterious illness shortly after lunch and went home. I did not find out why they left until the day after the party being as they left without saying goodbye.
Baby Gertrude had a blast! She flopped in the water as if she had lived there for nine months (come to think of it . . . ). Once she got over the fear that we were about to apply Baby Magic all over her hair buds, she relaxed and just giggled with sheer joy. She even stuck her face in the water. Granted, she was trying to grab something that wasn’t there and didn’t realize there was a barrier between her face and her goal. The important thing is that she didn’t cry or drown. I think she viewed it as a minor accomplishment, based on the look on her face, which seemed to say, “Well . . . I won’t do that again.”
I think the adults had a good time too. Except for the portions of my body that are now teeming with tumors brought out by the UV Rays of the sun, which on Sunday was extremely active with cool explosions. Not that we could see it or anything, but there’s particles everywhere! There might even be a neutron passing through your brain right now! RUN!
Overall, I learned a very important lesson. Perhaps I already knew this and needed a refresher. However, if you ever plan on entering the water feet first from a high-speed water slide, hold your nose. Otherwise water runs straight up it, acting as a nasal enema.
I think there is still some water lodged up there in the cavities somewhere. At night I can still smell the chlorine.
On the flipside, the kids thought it was funny as hell. And that means they were paying attention to me for at least a nanosecond. And that ain’t bad.
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Posts for the date of Monday, July 01, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 7:16 PM |
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Sorry for the lack of updates.
Afterall, we have a three-day work week ahead of us. To a freelancer, that means three days to do five days worth of work. So, I'm cramming in as much as possible.
The good news is, I found a great new place to buy my coffee beans. Yummy!
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