I’m not saying that Vicki Lawrence is a better singer than Reba McEntire – good Lord, no. What I am saying is that Vicki’s original 1972 version of “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” has a catchier earworm of a hook, as compared to Reba’s version from 1991. That’s all. I mean, judge for yourself.
And then…
And I have tried. In fact, I’m doing it right now and it sucks. Not that I have a bad phone, it’s decent, but the act of typing with my thumbs is not enjoyable.
And if I want to blog today, then I am at the mercy of this phone and its tiny digital little keyboard.
My daughter can type on her phone like a beast. She’s got one friend who types so fast, her thumbs are nothing but a blur.
See, I was trying to take care of too many things today. Spread myself thin, and nothing gets done well. And I had this thought that when I take the kid to soccer practice after school, I’ll bring my laptop and blog from there. But, like I said, I tried to do too many things, left late, and here I am typing with my thumbs.
See how tense, frustrated and confused I look? This is what a middle aged man looks like when he’s trying to work by writing on his phone. I know there are people out there in the world who can do this, and do write articles and stuff on their phone… just so happens that not me.
We had been planning this for a while, taking the kid to see HAMILTON on Broadway. It’s her favorite musical – she has the sound track memorized, and we’ve watched the Disney+ filmed musical performance like a hundred times. We had the opportunity to take her to other shows, but we knew HAMILTON was the only “first” show she could have AND we wanted to wait until she was old enough to appreciate what “seeing a Broadway show” really meant.
Ans last week, was the right time. (If I might add, the middle of the week HAMILTON cast, with a couple of understudies that went on, was great!) The kid was excited, we made a whole evening out of it with dinner before, and souvenirs when we got to the theatre. The kid was bouncing in her seat when the lights started to dim, mouthed along to the songs that she loves, and, though she said she wouldn’t because she knows the show too well, cried like all of us at the end of the show.
I would love to flatter myself and say that this was a life changing moment, or one of the core moments of her life, but I can’t say that; only she can – and it might still be years before she would say anything like that to me. No, I just provided a platform, and I hope that it inspires or encourages her in some way.
For me, it was a very big deal. I don’t do a lot of Broadway. Not that I have an issue with it, but my theatrical heart lies Off-Off-Off Broadway, in the little weird and small houses that play strange and experimental shows. I have taken the kid to see those (mainly quirky puppet shows that friends of mine do) so she knows that world of theatre. Now, after having seen a big, huge, famous show on Broadway, I think the kid has been exposed to both ends of the theatre spectrum.
And I think that’s my job as a parent – helping the kid experience things, and see as much different art as possible. I’m not expecting her to go into the arts, and if she doesn’t, that’s fine. But art and storytelling are important, and can lead to a better understanding of the world around you. Especially when it comes to understanding that we are all the same. We all love, we all hurt, we all give, and we all take.
(People in the streets..)
I need to dig out my car. I mean I did a little of it, but I have a feeling that I will need to be able to drive the car out of it’s icy cocoon at the start of next week. I have been actively been avoiding this chore. I feel like a little kid – I know what I need to do, I just don’t want to do it, and I won’t do it until I have to, or someone makes me. It’s too cold. It was nine degrees this morning. Nope, too cold to shovel ice and snow. At my age, I could have a heart attack if I were to do it… So this is more like self care and preservation… In fact, it would be crazy if I did go out there. Yes, I need to stay inside and drink coffee and read.
I don’t know how I got here this morning, but I had no idea that Oliver Cromwell’s head was lost and then found, and then buried. I did know that when Charles II came back in power that he had Cromwell dug up, and hung, and then beheaded. I just didn’t know that the head survived until the twenty century.
Hey! Be safe out there. Those of us that are going to march; keep it peaceful, and let your voices be heard.
I’m at the end of my working day, and sadly, I wasn’t able to put together a good blog. I had wanted to write a short story review, but that didn’t work out either.
I am still trying to catch up from the weekend, and what the snow has wrought. The family schedule has been thrown off, and I am only now getting things back on track. Though it might appear that I lead the fabulous life of a blogger/writer/critic… my life as a stay-at-home-parent does come first.
Which is why, only now, at 4:14pm am I sitting down to write today’s blog, which is more about not writing the blog I had envisioned.
But isn’t that life? You make a plan, and then God laughs.
I make lots of plans, and most of then do not work out. As I get older, I become more comfortable with this affirmation of life – things go sideways sometimes. You roll with it.
I gotta go and meet the kid and take her to soccer in a minute, so I should wrap this up.
Though I didn’t write the thing I wanted to write for myself, and you, I did show up, and I did write something. I met the goal.
Anyway…
More tomorrow…
