Stephanie, Stephanie, and Stephanie

I drove to Borders this evening to look for a book, The Brothers K, by David James Duncan, author of The River Why. After I found it, I browsed a for awhile. I rounded the corner to check out the Afro-American studies when, who should I run into but two former students from about 5 years ago, both named Stephanie. I hadn't seen Stephanie since she had graduated, although Stephanie had stopped by school a couple of times to visit.

On her last visit, Stephanie and I talked about our common interest in music. We discovered that we both were fans of the Ditty Bops. She always had an indie streak in her. She liked the Donnas and had her own band modeled after them. I'm not sure how successful the band was--or that it even actually performed anywhere. She told me that she is majoring in Journalism.

Stephanie, on the other hand, is majoring in History. I noticed that she now wore braces and had darker hair than I remembered. I recall that she read an essay to the class about the importance of reading in her life.

As we chatted there in Borders, Stephanie's cell phone rang. She smiled and said, "Hey, it's Stephanie--Mr. Babor, she's here with us!"

A third Stephanie walked out of the Sci-Fi section. She always had this intense way of speaking so fast that I got dizzy sometimes listening to her. She liked Kerouac. Her major was International Politics. She was with a friend who had an Arabic name and complained about how boring it was to read Camus in French.

I agreed.

What a great way to end a day. I'm just sorry their friend Gladys wasn't with them.

Running with Scissors at an Institution of Slightly Higher Learning: a Trilogy

Once, while still attending Grad School, I sat at my usual table on the patio at Starbucks, reading Death in the Afternoon. This group of Bible Study kids shows up. There were about four or five of them, one of them being an odd young man who felt that his duty was to be extra loud so that everyone could appreciate how much fun he was. A thin young man with long unkempt auburn hair, he would shout out the most idiotic comments while the others tried to discuss the Bible. They weren't biblical comments, they just were stupid and loud and meant to be funny.

On this particular day, the kids had brought artsy-craftsy stuff and had planned to create something. At one point, the loud kid, holding a pair of scissors in his hands, shouts "I'll go get it!" and runs down the sidewalk to "get it" with the scissors still in his hand.

Another time, after school, I stood in my classroom looking out the window. I saw the usual group of students sitting at their usual lunch bench, playing their usual role-playing card game. Two girls stood over them and one seemed to be nagging one of the boys as he played the game.

Suddenly, this boy, who was about 6'6" leapt to his feet and chased the two girls, grabbing the nagger in a choke-like hold, held her for a moment, and then gave her neck a jerk. She fell like a ragdoll as he marched triumphantly back to his game.

I hurried out to where nagging girl lay, her friend hunched over her. Nagging girl was sobbing in a heap. I asked her of she was okay. She said "Yes," through her tears.

As I walked over to the gamers, I asked another teacher to call security. I stopped behind the tall kid, who had now continued his game as if nothing had happened, and asked him "What did you just do?"

He looked at his cards and not me and said "She pissed me off."

I said, "That's not what I asked you."

"It's cool," he said, "She's my sister."

A couple of weeks ago, on my way to teach my night class at Rio de Nada Community College, I stopped by the cafeteria to get a bottle of water and a snack. Inside, in a booth, another group of gamers sat playing their game. Shouting ensued. One guy yelled something about wizards or trolls or death cards or something and started running out the automatic doors. Another guy jumped up an chased the first guy, grabbing a pile of campus papers on his way out the doors. They ran across the campus and the second guy threw the papers at the first guy and, of course, the papers flew everywhere. Second guy then stopped running, turned around, and headed back to the cafeteria, leaving the papers scattered on the ground.

As I walked to my class, I watched him to see if he truly was going to leave all of those papers scattered across campus. For a moment our eyes locked and I wondered if I really was going to have to tell this guy--a student at a college for God's sake--that he needed to go pick up after himself. He flinched at my look, turned around again, and picked them up.

There is no moral to this. I just wanted to let you know that we may be outnumbered

Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front, 3rd Meeting

Each meeting gets better and better. We had nine folks today. Three of our regulars were absent and sorely missed.

The playlist: Beautiful Sunday with Do taking vocals. Jamaica Farewell, with Billy C singing. Eric lead us in Daydream. Then, Eric brught in Psycho Killer and we worked on that ne for awhile. Carl and Liam the Younger took uke solos.

What made it fun was that we really worked the songs, really layering the music. A great afternoon.

Jammin' with Bill

I served the folk music public today as a volunteer for the 27th Annual Folk Music Festival Today. I took the morning shift, working first at a musical instrument check-in room and later as a runner for the fiddle workshop. I thought the fiddle workshop would be fun, but the instructor mostly talked and the group did very little fiddling. Only two participants played the fiddle with any skill. So the fiddling was Jack Benny-esque at best.

Otherwise, music filled the air.

The Canaries performed at the open mike stage, but we weren't ready. Do performed her bosom song. As she left the stage, we shouted for her to sing a song she plays on the uke, so she got back onstage and sang that. Then we shouted for her to do "Tinfoil Hat," so she did. She was very good.

Billy C and I got to see and hear John McEuen who used the play banjo and fiddle with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band back in the day. McEuen also taught Steve Martin how to play banjo. McEuen's guest was some 14-year-0ld mandolin prodigy who played like a possessed mofo.

After that performance. It was time for the final workshop of the day. Uke Forever was on schedule to teach a ukulele workshop, but Billy C and I wanted to go t a folk historian's workshop instead. Then, on our way, we saw an elderly man being guided to UF's room. He had to be in his 90's. He appeared quite feeble, in fact. I noticed that he had very thick white hair. That's when I realized that it was none other than ukemaster Bill Tapia. I realized that, indeed, he must be appearing in UF's workshop.

So Billy C and I zoomed over to UF's workshp and, sure enough, there sat Bill Tapia. He looked like he could be any elderly gentleman--frail, maybe a little alone. But when he began playing, he transformed. You could see the eyes light up and the body energize. He dominated the workshop, regaling us with stories from his early days playing in big bands and singing songs. His playing was spot on.

So there we were, about 30 workshop attendees, getting a performance from a uke legend.

UF ocassionally stepped in to show the newbies some chords and teach them some simple songs. UF led us in "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." I led the singing because no one else seemed to know the words.

I think Bill Got a little bred because he out of the blue asked me "How do you make a 'C' chord?" I made a "C"chord. Then "How do you make an 'E7?'" I made the "E7." I kind f panicked because he kept throwing chords at me. But I showed him every chord.

Then he turned to Billy C with the same drill. Then he asked "Now, everybody play those chords as I call them." Pretty soon, we were all playing the chords to "Ain't She Sweet" while Bill Tapia took the solo. I soon realized that I was jamming with Bill Tapia.

UF handled everything very well, allowing Tapia the spotlight, while making sure everyone walked away with a few basic chords.

Hey, I got to jam with Bill Tapia. It just doesn't get much better than that.

Stealth

Stealth Bomber!

They wouldn't do well in an actual fight.

Spelling Tip for the Day

I just read a blog where the writer misspelled "weird." They followed the old "i before e except after c" rule. But "weird" is an exception to that rule. In other words, "weird" is weird.

RULF 2

The second conflaguration of the Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front spilt int overtime, in part because the lengthy tuning session at the beginning, I guess and in part because I kept asking if anyone had anything to play after I knew we had reached 3PM, our scheduled ending time. We had four new people. Carl, an older guy (probably a little older than me, actually) who brought his 8-string Lanakai and did a classical piece and a latin piece to play. Kurt, a local press photog that I've known for awhile but don't see very much. I invited him once during a chance encounter walking the Roob. He and I had been hiking two different routes when we crossed paths at the top. He joined me on my way down and we started talking about music and pretty soon, he was yearning to play the uke.

Two teens showed up. Friends of Leemo (Blowhard Canary's new nom de blogue).

'Twas a good afternoon.

Stealth

This is me and the Stealth Bomber, or should I say the Stealth Bomber and I. Billy C took it. It was very difficult for the pilot to hold the plane still for that long.

Hey. Really. That's the Stealth Bomber and I together. No tricks. Really.

Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front's Next Meeting

This is no joke! Don’t forget! The second convening of the Riverside Ukulele Freedom Front will take place on April Fool’s Day from 1 PM to 3 PM in the Gallery (i.e. basement) of Back to the Grind, located at 3575 University Avenue in Riverside, California.

Proposed Hidden Agenda:

12:49--1:00 Arrival of Dignitaries on Red Carpet
1:00--1:01 Tuning and facial exercises
1:01--1:03 Opening beffudlement
1:03--1:05 Return to decorum
1:05--2:59 Make beautiful music together
2:59--3:00 Closing Pie Fight

Bring your ukes, your music stands, a thirst for froo-froo caffeinated beverages, AND a song that you have been working on and/or a song that you would like to add to the RULF Hymnal.

In honor of the holiday, a silly hat would also be appropriate.

See you there!

Pictures of the Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front Maiden Voyage

Well, links to pictures, any way. Try this link. Sue left before we took the group photo.

Rio de Nada Ukulele Liberation Front Maiden Voyage

The anticipation of this whole thing consumed me as the ,moment of truth arrived, but the RULF had its first Ukulele Circle today in the dank basement (or "gallery") of Back to the Grind, a local coffee house. We thought at first this venue might be too depressing, but it turned out just fine.

We had a dozen attendees, nine uke players, 3 significant others who came to listen. Ukers present included Billy C, UF, E Barr of UCR, Blowhard Canary, his doppelganger Liam, Do, Susie H, Chuckster from R-So-So, and myself. Among the listeners: Vivage, E Barr's wife Karen and Liam the Doppelganger's mother.

The playlist: Blow the Man Down, Boil that Cabbage Down, Camptown Races, The Crawdad Hole, Quinn the Eskimo, The Midnight Special, and several others I have forgotten. I selected mostly easy songs because I wasn't sure what level of players we would have. Each attendee played a song or two he or she had been working on. They all performed well. Chuckster gets the nod of the day for playing a song by Devo called "Mongoloid."

Among the colorful details: Once in awhile someone would come down to the gallery for their own purposes, give us a look, grimace, and walk up back the stairs; a speed freak came and listened and I think he liked us but it was hard to tell because nothing he said was coherent.

Totally bitchen afternoon, as far as I'm concerned.

Rio Nada Ukulele Liberation Front

This Sunday, Billy C and I are hosting Rio Nada's first ukulele circle. At least that I know of. I've sent out e-mails to parties I thought would be interested and he forwarded each of them to parties he thought would be interested. There are eight to ten people we know of who could show.

My plan is to run off some simple songs that we can all play together. I've asked everyone to bing a three-ring binder in which to put the songs. We're going to number them and call it our "Hymnal." Each week, ukesters will be free to bring new songs to add to it.

At this meeting, we willcollect e-mail addresses and names and the like and get it set up.

This week, I talked to UF at school and he said that word might have gotten around to even more people than I was aware of. So, it could be a bigger group than I had anticipated.

Anyway, I'm excited about this.

I Turn 53

I celebrated my 53rd birthday Tuesday. Got a phone call from Billy C and Princess C singing(?) to me. The rain and the traffic almost made me late.

Two girls in my first period gave me a Disney Princess gift bag full of inappropriate gifts: a pair of pink socks, a pair of used non-perscription glasses with greasy lenses, a scrubbing stone for her, and a card of this old guy mooning the camera but he's so old you can't tell where his ass crack is. They got a kick out of it.

Another class sang me happy birthday and two girls baked me a cake. They also gave me a hand-made card signed by all of my students. One of the girls decorated. She drew a stick-figure me playing my uke. On another page, she pasted my head on Superman's body. Funny.

My 7th period 9th grade class gave me the gift of not being too squirrelly, God bless 'em.

Piano

We are trying to get Mama C's house empty so we can either rent it or sell it, thus increasing her income for the years ahead, as her need for care increases.

Part of the process has been for her to give each of us items that should stay in the family for one reason or another. My sister got some china. My brother got Papa C's old tool chest--an old wooden chest--not a Sears and Roebuck tool chest filled with Craftsmen tools. Dad was a machinist and these are specialized tools that none of us could ever use. But it's a part of him. The first time I opened it after Papa C died, I was surprised to find three pictures fixed inside: one of Mama C, one of Pamela C, and one of his pal Clarence Matthews.

Clarence is a story unto himself--he has reached legendary status in our family and I would need my Papa C here to embellish the stories with dialog and other details.

But, I digress.

I got the piano. Mama C's upright piano. Right now, it sits in my living room near the sliding glass door, but well out of the way of incoming sun. Atop center sits old clock that, the last time I heard, sounded the time increasingly out of tune with each passing hour. Next to that, I have a framed photo of Mama and Papa dashing out of the church on their wedding day, their faces alight with smiles and youthful energy. To the left of the clock is my Oscar Schmidt uke and the last portrait of Papa C taken by Mama C's cousin Jimmy Rose.

There is another picture I am tempted to dig out and put on it--one of a young Mama C as a teenager sitting at the same piano in her parents home. The same clock is there--as is a bust of Beethoven. This is from her days as a young singer of local notoriety. The piano still looks new, as does she.

The piano I have still has a fine tone. But it looks a little worse for the wear. Along its once-perfect smile of a keyboard, one key sits broken like a missing tooth. The tapestry that once protected the insides from dust is torn (I don't know what this is called, but it is tacked behind the carved face board of the piano and was once made of beautiful fabric. I've googled for images that might show you what this looks like, but can't find any).

I made many of those tears as a small child. I imagine I found and imperfection and began exploring it. In spite of Mama C's pleas to leave it alone, I still explored the tears when I found myself alone with the piano. Why? The same reason I drew on the newly painted walls of my bedroom or ate the paper wrapping from the cupcakes Mama C bought from the Helms Bakery truck.

So, while I don't play the piano, it is a part of my history.

While most of the memories of Mama C accompanying herself on piano blend together into one, two stand out for me. The first comes from my childhood, when Billy C was a tween and I was probably in 5th grade. I think Papa C and Billy C were arguing over something--hair, friends, whatever. 'Midst the din, Mama C inexplicably started playing loudly and singing a song hymn and when she got to the refrain, got up and patting Papa C's chest, sang loudly "Bless this house firm and stout!" Or something like that.

The other was right after Papa C died. She was sitting alone in the living room (I was in the den), playing a song they had heard when they went through Marriage Encounter together.

More Reflections on Patti Smith's "The Jackson Song"

Vivage had mentioned that she first heard this song when she was prego with Blowhard Canary. That's when I heard it too, while I lived in their house with them. Billy C had a radio show on a local college station. I rarely listened to it on my car radio because the reception was iffy. But I did one time while driving around UCR shortly after the child prodigy's birth and just caught the end of this show, where Billy dedicated this song to his new infink son.

I think now that it might need a female voice singing the lead (Princess?) with the boys' lush harmony wafting in the background. There's a line about seeing a hero's wing and thinking of daddy followed by a line about a nestled wing and thinking of mommy that just sounds better coming from a female.

I supposed you could juggle that part around somehow, if you had to. Plus, there are plenty of songs out there written and sung by men where the persona is a woman.

Now to Change the Subject

How do you like my Google upgraded blog?

UF recently advised me not to be so dependent on tabs and songbooks, but to just listen to my heart and let the chords of new songs find their way there or some complicated sappy metaphysical crap like that.

But, hey, I think it works. I've got two new tunes that I am figuring out based on his advice.

Do had suggested a song, "Tiki Torches at Twilight" by David Lindley and, when I tried to get it on Chordie.com, I couldn't find it. So I just bought it on I tunes (both the David Lindley version and the Petty Booka version) and just listened. Then, I began to sing along and figure where it was in my vocal range and, relative to that, I think I got most of the chords figured out.

Then, I got a hankerin' to learn a Patti Smith tune, "The Jackson Song." But Chordie was also pretty chintzy with Patti Smith tunes. I found this odd, because awhile back I'm sure I found a load of Patti Smith tunes on some guitar tab site and now I found chordie was packing light, as was every other tab site I could find. Dunno. Funny thing: One of the Patti Smith tunes was actually the Patti Smyth tune "Good-bye to You." I thought the Chordie guys were hipper than that.

Anyway, I did the same thing with that song--more easily, because I am more familiar with Patti Smith's work and know kind of where her vocal range is and what chord progressions she uses a lot. So I am a little pleased with myself tonight.

Anyway, I want to learn "Tiki Torches." I think "The Jackson Song" would be a good Canary song with Billy C on the lead because he's a father and with Blowhard and me coming in with some fine harmonies (and Princess as well?).

Those of you who are thinking what the F**K! Patti Smith? Harmonies? Listen to this song. It's on the Dream of Life album.

A Mighty Wind

I've told most people this story, but those of you who don't live around here shouldn't be cheated.

My friend PJ's mother died just before Christmas. They held off on the memorial service until shortly after the holidays.

Like my friend Do, PJ's family does not adhere to tradition when it comes to celebrating a life. Where Do and her family take a musical approach, PJ and his family prefer a lot of speaking. A harpist provided music and PJ's vegan friend Dick provided guitar and raspy singing, but testimonials ruled the day.

Cut to the chase: As PJ closed the memorial, he asked that we all stand for a moment of silence in honor of his mother--that we pray, meditate, or just think of our favorite memory of his mother. Just as the crowd fell silent, someone released a hushed but potent fart--loud enough for only a few of us to hear. I looked up and met the startled gazes of four or five others--all of whom immediately averted their eyes back into meditation mode. I felt the urge to giggle, but suppressed it.

PJ ended the moment by saying "Now we hope you hold your memories of Mom gently in your heart."

Again, as if paid to do this on cue, the phantom farter released again.

This time, I kept my head bowed and I chuckled quietly. I couldn't help it.

Jim's Farewell

Saturday, Donita and family honored Jim's memory with a party celebrating his life. Yeah, that's the way to do it. No church. No ceremony. No formality. Just opportunities for everyone to honor Jim in their way. Jim and Donita come from musical families, so there was lots of music.

Jim's bro and cousin ran things, along with Donita of course.

They encouraged people to tell Jim stories. Those of us who played instruments performed. Jim loved progressive rock, so I played "I've Seen All Good People/Your Move" by Yes on my uke (minus the "I've Seen All Good People" part. The afternoon was chilly and I had a hard time getting my fingers to move, but I got through it. Soon after, the Canaries joined me on stage and we did our Dylan repertoire, with Blowhard Canary on vocal and Billy C and I on ukes and harmonies. The youngster's voice is really becoming more confident. I think he will shape up to be a fine singer. I think he can hit lower low notes than his father.

Many other people sang and played including both sides of the family: with both TV's Kyle and the Jimmy Jammers (Jim's band with Do, daughter, and Daughter's boyfriend), Casual Sunday (Jim's band with Bro and Do), and various other musicians and singers Jim has performed with.

Jim's keyboard was missed in every sense of the word. But he would be so proud of his family. He was a guy for whom music was life.

Do and a friend sang this sea shanty that Jim used to play with them. It was beautiful and and brought tears to everyone's eyes. Wish I could remember the title. I know it was written in the early 20th century in the traditional way.

A lot of people I had known once as teenagers were there, looking to me more like their own parents.

People mingled. Some found their own corners to sit and mourn.

Jim, you were a much-loved man.

To Honor Jim

I browsed my blog last night, looking for comments from Jim. One of his last comments was a request that I post the recipe for my semi-healthy chocolate chip cookie recipe. So, Jim, this is for you.

1/2 cup unsalted butter
3/4 cups lightly-packed brown sugar
2 to three egg whites, beaten stiff
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup nonfat milk
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup or more (preferably more) chocolate chips
3/4 cups chopped peanuts
1 cup sunflower seeds

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Add egg whites, vanilla, milk and beat until fluffy. Stir together flour and baking soda. Add wet ingredients. Stir in chocolate chips, peanuts, and seeds. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto a greased baking sheet and bake until browned, 10 to 15 minutes.

Tips:

I'm not sure why, but these cookies often have little green flecks in them after baking. I think this is from the flour. But I haven't died from eating these yet, so it's not anything poisonous.

To maximize sweetness, use salt-free ingredients whenever possible.

Instead of brown sugar, try date sugar. You can find this in most health food stores. It makes the cookies sweeter and is better for you if you are diabetic.

Instead of wheat flour, try brown rice or amarinth flour.

I call these semi-healthy because the combination of nuts, seeds, and flower makes a complete protein. Also, I recently read where dark chocolate has some sort of health benefits.

Also, I don't always go to the trouble of beating the egg whites until stiff, but the cookies still come out fine.

These cookies are not as sweet as regular chocolate chip cookies. They have a unique, mild flavor. Anyone who has ever tried them, regardless of their eating habits, has loved them. In fact, when I take them to potlucks and put them with the desserts, theirs is the first plate to empty.

Jim

Donita's Blog isn't up to date as of this posting, but you can go there to get the details of what happened. Her husband, Jim, had a bad stroke Sunday night and it looks like he won't make it.

This is one of those times where you search for the words that make sense. The wise realize that there are no words.

Donita called me with the update, after a more positive call on Monday.

Jim is one of those people who has this sweet nature and you just wouldn't want anything for him but a long, happy life. He is one of those rare individuals who is possessed by his music. When he plays his keyboard, he becomes the music and he seems to be able to fill in on anything you throw at him. He and Donita are two people who together are a vortex of creative passion.

I love them both and, as is my nature, I hold on to hope, but it looks very bad right now.

Just love your life people. Love your life. Each day is a gift.