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One of the most memorable gigs of the BHB was a trip somewhat out of the ordinary — to Dodge City.

People the world over know about Dodge from the long-running TV show “Gunsmoke.” From roughly a year before I was born until the year the BHB formed (1955-1975) Marshall Dillon, Miss Kitty, Festus, and Doc Adams were a powerhouse in TV ratings — the longest running network TV series at the time, and it was exported to every country on the globe that had TV sets.

The town made the most of their (fictional) fame. Dodge was — and probably still is — a tourist trap based largely on the TV show as well as the myths and legends of the “old west.”

However, I doubt that people are still talking about the weekend when The Bunk House Boys rode into town.

We were not on stallions or even geldings. We convoyed into town with a few vehicles (I can’t remember if we had our bus at this time.) The lineup was the same one in the picture on my Bunk House Boys web page — Ron Bailey on drums, Barry Green on lead guitar, Gary Mater on pedal steel guitar, Craig on bass, and me playing rhythm and singing. The time was the late 1970s.

The drive was an easy 95 miles. I remember Barry took his own car down, along with his wife and puppy. They had a station wagon, and Barry laid down in the back with his double-neck guitar and put on new strings — which might have made an amusing video if we had such technology in those days.

And now — over 40 years later — I can’t really remember if we had our bus at the time (a converted 1956 Chevrolet school bus with four bunks, a kitchenette, and a potty), or if Gail Bailey or Gloria Collier went with us. I don’t think the ladies were along — for reasons which will be clear by the end of this tale.

The gig — Friday and Saturday nights — was at a roadhouse dive bar called Tom & Jerry’s or Mutt & Jeff’s or something like that. We arrived in the afternoon and went by the place to see if we could set up the equipment. Before we had the bus, Dave Collier hauled our gear in a custom-made trailer that was formerly the rear-end of a pickup truck, so that might have been how we got everything to the gig.

We pulled up at the bar and went inside to see what awaited us. In our five years together, The BHB played some real holes — but this one took the cake.

The stage was up against a wall that looked like all the paneling was taken off of it — and replaced with tin foil! The electrical outlets were bare — no decorative fixture plates around them, just sticking out of holes in the wall. I could easily imagine this being my final performance, ending in a shocking finale.

In addition — the stage was filled with the gear from the previous night’s band. As we scouted for somebody to instruct us (or warn us to run for our lives), the previous band arrived and started tearing down their equipment. They had an open trailer behind a car — it looked like a welder’s mobile rig — and were tossing things into it. No equipment cases, they just disassembled the drums and dumped them in along with amplifiers and loudspeakers and mic stands. At least they cleared the way for us.

We set up, plugged in and were testing the sound, when Gary (who always had an eye for and a line for the ladies) brought a couple of young things up to the stage. He proceeded to point us out to the girls (his way of introductions, I guess).

“He’s married so he’s not putting out. He’s single so he’s putting out. He’s single so he’s putting out. He’s … “

(Craig and I were the only single guys there — I don’t think Ron and Gail were married, and I don’t think Gloria Collier came along on this trip.)

It was a new kind of billing for me … I didn’t know how to respond.

Craig and Wade (Photo Courtesy Mike Miller)

We went to our motel and quickly established that Craig and Wade’s room — the bachelor quarters — were party central. We filled the bathtub with ice and dropped in multiple cases of beer (after all — what is a bathtub for?). By the end of our weekend, the bathtub was filled with cardboard pulp that had disintegrated in the melted ice water. After all, we had to keep the bathtub well-stocked — our reputation depended upon it.

The gig went OK — it was a normal gig. But what I remember is that afterward (the first night), Craig decided he wanted to spend some time after the gig with a young lady who struck up his acquaintance during one of the breaks. I went back to our motel room alone. It was late, I had not met any girls to occupy my time, and I had to catch up on my beer consumption, because playing guitar and singing for four hours doesn’t let you keep up the pace you want to establish while drinking.

I slept soundly and securely — the motel had a security chain lock besides a deadbolt, and I had a nightcap or two or ten to usher me into a deep sleep.

But something was annoying me. Maybe bugs. I brushed my face in a groggy half-sleep, and felt something else against my hair. Then more little bumps — and a hissing sound. I realized that someone was whispering my name.

It was Craig. He had a room key, but the door would only open a few inches because of the chain lock. Being the creative type, he decided to pitch pebbles at me to wake me up. He didn’t want to raise his voice and disturb other occupants of the motel.

Since I was solidly asleep, it took quite a few pebbles and hisses to awaken me. In fact, the bed had more gravel in it than the parking lot. But finally I got up and let Craig in the door. He wasn’t real happy about my security arrangements — he felt I could have been safe enough with the deadbolt and skipped the chain.

I asked him why he was back — I thought he was spending the night with his new friend. He said she was so drunk she passed out about the time they got back to her place, so he left and came back to our motel.

So much for the tales of wild groupies and orgies on the road.

The Bunk House Boys finished the 2-night gig at the dive bar and we were never invited back — but I don’t think that reflected negatively on our performance. At least we weren’t tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail — or even thrown in the hoosegow with the desperadoes — or worse yet, buried on Boot Hill.

No, I think we got out of Dodge relatively intact, pocketed a few bucks for our work, and headed down the road to our home base to get ready for the next exciting adventure in Outlaw Country Music.

And that’s the legend of The Bunk House Boys.

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I was reared (animals are “raised”) in a small town in a rural area of the nation. Believe it or not — our Midwest lifestyle was very like the New England lifestyle nearly a century earlier that was recorded by Norman Rockwell in his marvelous paintings.
My father’s side of the family got the pleasure of our company on Thanksgiving and mother’s side got the honor of our presence on Christmas — alternating each year. The two families were in adjacent towns only a dozen miles apart, so we did a lot of family visits throughout the year, of course.
But holidays were special. The Ward family met (usually) at the home of my grandparents and (at minimum) included a core group of their son and daughter — my father Don and my Aunt Bee

Rockwell Thanksgiving Painting
Remembering our loved-ones who are no longer with us at holiday dinners

— and their children.
That generation was represented by me and my two brothers (Craig and Bart Ward) and Bee and her husband Bill’s kids Todd and Tara (who were about ten years younger than me).
The Bartley family (my mom’s side of the family) had a few more options and we gathered in Almena, KS. Grandma Bartley had three kids — my mom was the baby, and she had an older brother Tom Bartley and much older sister, Maryse.
Tom and his wife Inge Graf Bartley hosted sometimes and Maryse and her husband Burnal hosted other times — but my dad didn’t like to spend holidays in Almena because TV reception was poor (this was before cable TV) and he couldn’t enjoy the ball games.
As always, though — food was plentiful and we pigged out major league.
I have so many wonderful memories of our extended family gatherings and as a child, I thought they would continue forever.
But of course, nothing is forever. Time marches on, and we lose loved-ones along the way.
I wanted to commemorate happy childhood memories by referencing the famous Rockwell painting “Freedom From Want” — one of his series of Four Freedom paintings.
In this one I have remembered those on my paternal side of the family who are no longer with us — empty chairs at the dinner table.
My maternal side of the family will have to forgive me — there are a lot more people involved and I don’t know how to represent all of them and all the memories they contributed — at least not this year. But I will never forget any of the people who have made me what I am today — and mainly that is “rich in memories.”
And certainly THANKFUL.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.

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Jerry Lewis got a dirty deal. From 1966 through 2014, the universally acknowledged comedy genius hosted the MDA Labor Day Telethon. A couple of generations grew up with Jerry on TV for 24 straight hours, hosting a string of celebrities from A-list to zzzzzzz (sleep through them, bubbie).

But the Muscular Dystrophy Association cut ties with the star who had raised so many millions of $$$$ for them in 2011. (MDA estimates around $2 billion from all telethons, including ones before and after Jerry). Why, Why, WHY?

Jerry was not only the king of comedy, he was the arch-duke of show biz and he knew all the tricks. He could be crazy and zany, but as the hours ticked by and he got more exhausted her would go absolutely nutsy-coo-coo. He cried, he pleaded, he cajoled, he did everything in the book. By the time the final “tote” (the total on the big board) was revealed, Jerry was ready to be carted away to a long-deserved rest.

But, MAN! what a show!

The MDA gave Jer the honorary title of National Chairman of the MDA in 1956. He hosted Thanksgiving telethons in 1957 and 1959. The first Labor Day Telethon was 1966 and was broadcast on only one station in New York. From then on, it was Labor Day all the rest of the Jerry years.

You know who was on these telethons? Everybody. Think of a name from show-biz history. Yep — they were on the telethon. Singers, dancers, actors, groups, animals, puppets and muppets and marionettes, swingers and squares — and don’t forget Ed McMahon, who served as the anchor for 40 years.

The first time he hosted, Thanksgiving of 1956, he was actually co-host with Dean Martin. That’s the year their comedy duo broke up — but Frank Sinatra reunited them on the 1976 telethon (supposedly surprising Jerry). It was kinda awkward, but sweet. They hadn’t been together for almost 20 years.

Then — unexpectedly — no more Jerry. The star didn’t talk about it. He was bitter. MDA claimed he wanted to retire. As if!

In 2015, the MDA discontinued the telethon. In an increasingly socially conscious age, they were getting lots of criticism. Some thought the telethon was presenting a detrimental picture of people with MDA. Many were successful and led full lives — they weren’t victims, they were not objects of pity, they should not be held up in front of a TV camera to elicit pity.

Jerry Lewis died in 2017 at age 91. The MDA lives on and still makes a lot of money. But Labor Day will never be the same.

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Here in Southern California, we celebrated Independence Day 2019 with a moderately successful earthquake. The quake’s publicist claimed it was 6.5 Richter — but you know how agents always exxxagggerate.

Of course, all quakes try to live up to THE BIG ONE — the San Francisco earthquake of ….

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story is really about a man I — well, maybe not admire or want to emulate, but a fellow who fascinates me. I’m referring to John Sidney Blyth, who achieved fame under the name John Barrymore.

Those who have a good education will know him as the most celebrated actor of early 20th century stage and later movies.

The culturally inept should be told that he was Drew’s grandfather.

Barrymore was not only a celebrated actor, but a world class drinker. His drinking was so bad …. (How bad was it?)

Well, that is the whole point of this story.

When Barrymore was a relatively young man and relatively new (but gaining a reputation) as an actor, he was already testing his limits with alcohol. This was right after the turn of the century — certainly before Prohibition — so the booze flowed easily and steadily.

While acting in plays, Barrymore would go out afterward and drink the night away, often collapsing unconcious to sleep it off.

John Barrymore at his best

One such night, the young actor left the theater, made the rounds of his favorite establishments, and then retired to his hotel room to collapse — as usual — still fully dressed in a tuxedo shirt and pants with his jacket and tie askew.

When he awoke, the world was a different place. Still groggy from the night’s grog, he stumbled from the hotel to find the town in shambles.

San Francisco had been leveled by a massive earthquake.

History, through her spokesperson Wikipedia, tells us that the quake struck at 5:12 a.m. on Wednesday, April 18, 1906 with an estimated moment magnitude of 7.9. At the risk of losing my audience by introducing mathematics, the Richter scale is logarithmic. That means that a 2.0 quake is ten times as strong as a 1.0. And a 3.0 is ten times stronger than a 2.0, which means it is 100 times the intensity of 1.0. When we get to 4.0, it is 1000 times as disruptive, and … well just carry on this train of thought until you get to 8.0 and you’ll see how devestating the San Francisco earthquake was.

And young Barrymore slept right through it.

Not only were buildings toppled and streets buckled, but fires broke out all over the city and raged for days. Around 3,000 people died and more than 80% of the city was destroyed.

Into this mess stumbles drunk and hung-over John Barrymore. Try to put yourself in his place. Better yet — don’t put yourself there.

He wrote a letter to his father complaining about being caught in such a disaster, but since he was not harmed, he was given a shovel and told to help dig out — help find trapped people, and clear roadways. My goodness! He was a Artiste! An Actor! How dare they make him perform menial labor.

Years afterward, Barrymore’s father — also an actor — told acquaintances some good came out of the disaster.

“It took an act of God to get John Barrymore out of bed and the US Army to make him work!”

Barrymore’s life was tumultuous — and that is a fun word to use in a sentence. Alcohol ruled him from the age of 14 until he died at age 60. His work deteriorated along with his memory and his looks. He went from being the most idolized actor of his day — and some claim that he was the best Hamlet ever — to playing drunks and has-beens on the silver screen.

Fortunately, our current earthquake did little damage, but I can’t help but think that everytime California has an trembler, John Barrymore is in heaven exclaiming, “My GOD! I’m trying to sleep!”

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One of my FBF called my attention to the news that Justin Bieber challenged Tom Cruise to a fight. I thought that pretty weird, so I had to investigate.

My first thought was that — if true — Tom could probably whip Justy even though their age difference is so vast. After all, I’ve seen nearly all the “Mission Impossible” movies.

My second thought was, “Why?” Did the Beebs think Tom stole his girl? Maybe they had a religious debate. I still haven’t solved that one.

Wade surrounded by celebrities 31 years younger than him -- they may want to fight!
How about if we all just go to dinner and be friends?

But the weird and wild thing was that this dispute (if it is even true) has inspired one of those crazy viral internet sensations. Remember when people would dump a bucket of ice water over their head on video as a way of promoting awareness about ALS (a.k.a. Lou Gehrig’s disease)?

A bunch of people did this, and as far as I know, we haven’t made any progress against ALS.

It seems that since Cruise is 31 years older than Bieber, Twitter users are now issuing challenges to actors 31 years older than themselves. As far as I understand it, this is FANTASY fighting. If anyone tries to attack a celebrity, they may have a rude awakening after the Kardashian or Rhianna bodyguards get done with them.

Of course, I’m not going to be involved in this childish fad. First of all, most of the people 31 years older than me are deceased.

Wait a minute … ummmm … hold on … I may be the victim here!

Oh no! (or OMG to the emoji crowd)!!! There may be hoards of 31 year younger people stalking me at this very moment!

What will I do? I don’t even have bodyguards.

I’m the harmless, peaceful type. I’ve never been in a fight in my life. This could be a disaster.

Who are my potential attackers? And are any of them a threat?

Let’s see —

There’s Rachel Bloom, that famously Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. She could club me with her Golden Globe Award for Best Actress. I watched her show and she never violently flipped out, but maybe they were pressured by sponsors to keep the violence out of it. The character, at least, was a Borderline Personality Disorder, and maybe had other heavy problems.

He may be in England, but I haven’t check up on Tom Felton for a while. You remember that evil Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter films? He was convincing enough to win the MTV Movie Awards for Best Villain. Maybe he wasn’t just acting?

Then there’s Ellen Page, that Canadian actress who won everyone’s heart in “Juno” — but then she kicked some major booty as Kitty Pryde in the X-Men. You know how angry those X-Men (and women) can get. Major disruption and destruction. The only secret power I have is making people get in my way when I’m driving or trying to walk through WalMart.

Now, you’d think that Blake Lively would be above some shallow fight challenge — but remember, this Gossip Girl is married to Ryan Reynolds who plays the crazy killing machine Deadpool. If she even hinted that she would like to see me taken out, I don’t think her hubby could let her down. (I don’t think the fact that Deadpool’s secret identity is Wade Wilson would be enough to call off the vicious attack on me, just because we have similar names.)

Kevin Jonas is one of the Jonas Brothers, and could easily be jealous of me as a fellow songwriter and singer (I’m no threat to him as a guitarist). His brother Nick plays a Mixed Martial Artist in his TV series “Kingdom” so he could possibly call down a gang of ninja attackers on me. It could happen!

Not so for Darren Criss, who shot to fame in Glee and is a proven successful singer. But he also won Emmy and Golden Globe acting awards for his leading role in The Assassination of Gianni Versace on American Crime Story last year. I mean, once you play a psycho killer, can you go back? Maybe he’s one of those method actors who doesn’t break character — even a year after the job is over.

Likewise Zac Efron, who may seem harmless and likable after you’ve enjoyed his acting in High School Musical (Disney channel, no less), and Hairspray. But then he turns into Wicked Evil Vile mass murderer Ted Bundy! Not only a vicious killer but one of the most brillliant psychos in history.

And you may think that Evan Rachel Wood is beautiful and a talented, actress & model — but remember her past with Marilyn Manson. Maybe she’s been hypnotized by the strange singer and spots potential victims for him.

Another Disney alum, Hillary Duff, (AKA Lizzie McGuire) may be an actress, singer and songwriter but has she had a hit song or a TV show or movie lately? Maybe an unprovoked attack on an out-of-shape incipient senior citizen would give her a big publicity boost.

But my biggest fear is — Ronda Rousey. You know who I mean — she was champion in both the UFC and WWE, competed in the Olympics in judo, and is one of the most notorious mixed martial artists in history. When she starts kicking, she doesn’t stop at the booty. She could kick me in places I don’t even know I have. And to paraphrase Billy Jack, “There’s not a dammm thing I’m gonna be able to do about it.”

So you see — my future looks pretty bleak. I beg of you — send your thoughts and prayers if that is what you believe in. Maybe send the National Guard if you think it would respond to me.

But I just hope Justin Bieber can live with the consequences of his challenge to Tom Cruise.

(CUE: Mission Impossible Theme Music)

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Fifty years ago today “The Beatles” released the single The Ballad Of John And Yoko in the US.

I put their name in quotes because it was actually just John and Paul making all the vocal and instrumental tracks.

The cover photo for the single was striking. The lads had changed so much in appearance in such a short time. John looked like a guru in drag. Paul was so much more macho with his beard.

But mostly, the Beatles were rumored to be breaking up. After The White Album, everyone went his own way for a while. Ringo walked out because of all the tension and fighting, but they talked him into coming back a few days later. George rebelled against Paul’s authoritarian actions in the studio. John had retreated with Yoko … and who knew what they were doing?

And yet, out of all this tension and conflict, some of their best musical creation and performance rose.

The first time I heard the song was on the news. I was 13, my family lived in a small town in a rural area, and there wasn’t as much entertainment news as we have today. But The Beatles made news — usually when they outraged the older generation, got into trouble, or made a fabulous work or art or appearance.

I loved the song at first listening — not unusual for my experiences with Beatles’ songs. Also, I had started strumming the guitar, trying to learn some chords, and it was a relatively simple song to pick up.

John and Yoko took off to evade the press and ended up in Amsterdam sequestered in a hotel room. They allowed the press to come in and interview them and gave the typical non-sequitur hippie answers the were known for. Yoko turned John Avant-Garde, which didn’t settle well with anybody. But it was great for press coverage.

When the ordeal was over, John wrote the song on April 14 and took it over to Paul’s house, where (according to interviews) “they finished it.” Nobody mentioned what Paul added to the song, but it was probably musically rather than any lyrics.

This was unusual because they had parted badly after the “Let It Be” sessions (which were filmed for a movie of the same name and became the last time they played together as a band). But they always rallied together around the music.

What I remember from the version I heard on the nightly news was that one of the words in the chorus was censored. They didn’t bleep it out, they actually cut it — so the musical phrase didn’t have enough beats.

“{Christ} you know it ain’t easy, you know hard it can be.
“The way things are going, they’re gonna crucify me.”

I discovered (internet research) that this was not unusual. Many countries either censored it or outright banned the song.

For historical context, the Beatles were very unpopular with the older generation — The Establishment — in America ever since Lennon had made his statement that among young people, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ. That caused an uproar, as well as album burnings, banning of long hair in schools, and all kinds of reactions.

Lennon told his publicity department: “Tony – No pre-publicity on Ballad Of John & Yoko especially the ‘Christ’ bit – so don’t play it round too much or you’ll frighten people – get it pressed first.”

The song is legendary — one of the group’s greatest hits. And on a personal note — one of my Karaoke Faves.

It was fifty years ago today — and already a legend.

THE BALLAD OF JOHN AND YOKO

Standing in the dock at Southampton
Trying to get to Holland or France
The man in the mac said
You’ve got to go back
You know they didn’t even give us a chance

Christ you know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me

Finally made the plane into Paris
Honeymooning down by the Seine
Peter Brown call to say
You can make it O.K.
You can get married in Gibraltar near Spain

Christ you know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me

Drove from Paris to the Amsterdam Hilton
Talking in our beds for a week
The newspapers said
Say what’re you doing in bed
I said we’re only trying to get us some peace

Christ you know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me

Saving up your money for a rainy day
Giving all your clothes to charity
Last night the wife said
Oh boy when you’re dead
You don’t take nothing with you but your soul, think

Made a lightning trip to Vienna
Eating chocolate cake in a bag
The newspapers said
She’s gone to his head
They look just like two gurus in drag

Christ you know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me

Caught the early plane back to London
Fifty acorns tied in a sack
The men from the press
Said we wish you success
It’s good to have the both of you back

Christ you know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me

Songwriters: JOHN LENNON,PAUL MCCARTNEY
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
For non-commercial use only.

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I have been honored to be asked to vocalize on a world-music track written by Shane Pillay of Amsterdam.

From Shane’s website — “I collaborate with world artists on projects that include producing animation films, performing music,creating drawings and paintings.”

The song I sang was “Running in Love” and it is credited to BigBossBand. Shane did the production and mixing.

He explains: “A track inspired by rockabilly which I had written and produced. Unfortunately I didn’t achieve the rockabilly sound. Perhaps next time.

Besides my vocals, the other participants are:
Andy Rice from USA — guitar.
Bruno Moses from Nigeria — bass.
Anthony Wraith from UK provided the artwork.

I do a lot of collaboration over the internet, having written songs with artists from Brasil, Canada, and Australia as well as all over the USA. However, I usually produce the finished tracks myself. This was a new experience for me.

Here is the finished track of “Running In Love” by Shane Pillay — Please enjoy it and let Shane know how you liked it.

YOUTUBE

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Originally from my Facebook page
June 3, 2017

I’ve actually enjoyed my commute time this week — the 50th anniversary of the Beatles releasing “Sgt Pepper!”

While driving I flip around the radio dial to get the good parts of various stations as they go by and I have four PBS stations, which tend to do more special programs.

The “normal” radio stations did their share of Beatles tributes, but programs on PBS like “On Point” and “Fresh Air” give 30 to 60 minute interviews and profiles.

It was 50 years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. And I was a couple of years away from picking up the guitar and learning to play. But I had been a Beatles fan since their Ed Sullivan debut in 1964.

My grandparents had sold their grocery store and opened and ladies’ ready to wear shop on the main drag in Norton, KS (right next to the Lennox storefront on State Street for you Norton historians). Mom worked there — the first time she worked outside the home since baffling the world with three unusual sons.

The grandparents bought the first two 45 RPM records (check Wikipedia if you don’t know what those are) issued in the US — “I Want To Hold Your Hand” and “She Loves You” on the Parlophone label (before Capitol Records picked them up for US distribution) and played them for background music during the grand opening of The Wards For Ladies.

After the Grand Opening, the grandsons were gifted with these records — possibly still in the collection of brother Bart. I remember playing the records constantly and singing along at the top of my lungs. One memory that sticks with me is when Tim Sterrett came over and we played the records at high volume — I remember singing the bridge with these lyrics:

And when I touch you
I feel happy inside
It’s such a feelin’ that my love
I get hives
I get hives
I GET HIVES!

(I don’t think that was really the words, but that’s what it sounded like in all the excitement of Beatlemania)

When Sgt Pepper was released, believe it or not, most of the copies sold were in mono. After all, stereo home players were not owned except by audiophiles and the radio and TV sets were all mono.

I first heard the stereo version (on headphones) when I was in high school. I remember “Good Morning, Good Morning” ending with the farm animal noises bouncing between ears and I think at the very end is a horse galloping across the stereo spectrum. Also, on “A Day In The Life” the last verse is in the opposite ear from where the first verse played. The cacophony in the middle of the song swirls around and around too.

I was thrilled by the beauty of “She’s Leaving Home” — it sure wasn’t rock ‘n roll. And I really glommed on to “When I’m 64.” My parents asked me to play it on guitar and sing it for my grandma (who turned 64 in 1972, I think) and I played for my own mom when she turned 64.

Sgt Pepper was a landmark of audio recording experimentation. The machines they had at that time were only 4-tracks and there was massive overdubbing. The best recounting of the creation of this album (that I have read or heard) was the memoir by Abbey Road studio recording engineer Geoff Emerick — Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles. The fab four were making all kinds of demands to producer George Martin and Emerick. Some of the things they came up with were absolutely wild — like putting a reel of tape on one machine, then unspooling it down the hallway to another machine in another room to get a long tape delay.

The Beatles are legendary and Sgt Pepper is rightfully a legend. Most in the know agree it isn’t the best album the Beatles ever made (some say it isn’t even the best album they made in 1967), but it was the signpost toward their final albums that showed the industry that albums were an art form and that music didn’t have to be tightly squeezed into narrow genres.

The fact that Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr are still alive and productive is amazing and wonderful — we shouldn’t take it for granted.

Now — I hope you are inspired to go out and listen and read and groove on the great gifts given to us by those four working class lads from Liverpool.

https://www.beatlesbible.com/…/geoff-emerick-here-there-an…/

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Today is the 28th anniversary of our wedding. We have had quite a journey so far in our life, and we don’t think we are finished yet.

But the journey is a cycle, and when you complete one cycle, the next one starts.

The master who figured this out is a legend himself — Joseph Campbell. He wrote books, including “The Hero With A Thousand Faces,” about myths and legends from prehistoric times to the present that presented what he called “The Monomyth” or The Hero’s Journey.

This pattern of story telling appears in every culture and is the basis of literature, religion, history, and especially today — superhero movies.

I knew I married an exceptional lady, but as I learned about Prof. Campbell’s work, I realized that her life story closely followed the Monomyth. I started mapping her biography to the Campbell formula and found that she had already been through her initial cycle before I even met her. Since then, she has been through two more.

For those not personally familiar with me, I am married to Estelle Toby Goldstein, a medical doctor — and so much more.

Her first cycle was the creation. She was born, left her home and family to travel to a foreign land seeking wisdom. There, she learned powerful skills through trials and with the help of mentors. This was medical school in a second language and against the patriarchy that was threatened by a woman in what had traditionally be the domain of males. At the completion of her learning, she returned home to bring her powers and wisdom to the people she left behind.

Her second cycle was going into the world as a modern-day wizard. She traveled through her homeland gathering more power and knowledge as well as helping others and achieving modern-day miracles. On this journey, she sought happiness and fulfillment but faced new trials and hardships. The completion of this journey is when she found her one true love and was married.

The third cycle was when she took her accumulated wisdom and her mate — who became her partner and helped her accomplish new achievements — and rose to a higher plane. She broke free of the restraints of an academic institution to establish herself as a champion health practitioner, researcher of new healing, and finally completed the cycle by finding the promised land: she moved to California to start a new life and career with her mate.

Now in her fourth cycle — together with her mate, they traveled through this new land and began doing things that others would not or could not do. Her trials here included a health crisis that nearly killed her, but which she broke through to a new power/knowledge base — applying her traditional medical skills to the ancient arts of natural medicine. Her transformation included curing herself of congenital health conditions, losing massive amounts of weight, and transforming her visage to one of beauty. Changes in the way medicine is practiced and the fortunes of society destroyed the successful business and prevented her from continuing her practice.

This cycle is coming to an end, and the finish cannot yet be revealed. Strong allies are rallying around her. She is preparing new and exciting methods for the climax of this cycle. It could take her in any of several directions, but all of them are upward.

We are watching and expectant. The work is hard and risky, but the rewards are great.

This cycle will not be the last — there is much more ahead. But no more can be revealed yet. This is the cliff-hanger — stay tuned. All will be revealed — and it could be very soon.

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I’ll bet this has happened to you. It happens to everybody, I think.

You get a song that runs through your mind, and try as you might — you just can’t get it out of your head.

Shari Lewis and her lovable little puppet Lamb Chop had a running gag on her children’s TV show — “The Song That Never Ends.” Lamb Chop would start singing, causing the ventriloquist to moan and complain, “Oh No! Not that!”

A real life example would be the song (I hate to even mention it — you will curse me tonight when you go to bed and it has wormed its way into your brain)”It’s a Small World.” According to Time.com, the song by Richard and Robert Sherman is the most publicly performed song of all time. It lives in infamy (as FDR would say) in an attraction at Disneyland. I made the mistake of taking that boat ride with my loving wife once and I was MAD by the time we exited — I tell you MAD!!!

Whew … excuse me … I think I’m ok now.

But the song that runs through my head lately may not be as well known … or at least, not well remembered.

Pete Seeger Album "Waist Deep In The Big Muddy"

Folk music legend Pete Seeger wrote the song and it was a hit when he played it in concerts and finally recorded it on a album. However, he was censored when he was invited to perform the

tune on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour (those radicals! Grrrr!!!!) but the hosts kept after CBS and were finally allowed to invite Seeger back to perform the show later (in 1968). The ironic fact is — Seeger recorded the album for CBS records.

The song needs historical context. It was similar to (if not based on) what became known as “The Ribbon Creek incident” in 1956. Marine Staff Sergeant and drill instructor Matthew McKeon marched his platoon into a swamp called Ribbon Creek and six US recruits died — drown. The sergeant was convicted for possession and use of an alcoholic beverage.

Seeger’s song is based in WWII but the situation is the same. Soldiers are ordered march into “The Big Muddy” by a captain, who is warned by a sergeant of the danger involved. “But the big fool said to push on.”

Each verse follows our loyal troops into the river farther and farther — as they get waist deep,knee deep, neck deep, …

Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you as I have reprinted the lyrics below and linked to a video of Seeger performing the song.

The controversy arose because Seeger used some of the very terms that Pres. Lyndon Johnson used to diss his critics of escalation of the war in Vietnam. “Nevous Nellies” the captain calls his men who are complaining about the march.

To quote Seeger —

But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We’re — waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.

It isn’t Lyndon Johnson of whom I am thinking, though. I was in elementary school at the time and just beginning to be aware of the big old world out there.

Maybe I’m thinking of
Brexit
or a Mexican border wall
or 17 years of war in Afghanistan
or the invasion and occupation of Iraq
or intervention in the Somali Civil War
or Bosnian-Serbian-Kosovo war
or reinstatement of the president of Haiti
or insurgency in Pakistan
or drone strikes in Somalia
or anti-pirate attacks in the Indian Ocean
or overthrow of Gaddafi in Libya
or anti ISIS intervention in Syria
or our role in the Yemeni Civil War
or 50 years of a war on Drugs

or maybe — just a little — Vietnam

Are we victims of “confirmation bias?”

Maybe it is no wonder that I often feel like we are

  • Waist Deep In The Big Muddy

It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in-a Loozianna,
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That’s how it all begun.
We were — knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the big fool said to push on.

The Sergeant said, “Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?”
“Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
‘Bout a mile above this place.
It’ll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We’ll soon be on dry ground.”
We were — waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.

The Sergeant said, “Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim.”
“Sergeant, don’t be a Nervous Nellie,”
The Captain said to him.
“All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I’ll lead on.”
We were — neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.

All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain’s helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, “Turn around men!
I’m in charge from now on.”
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.

We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn’t know that the water was deeper
Than the place he’d once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
‘Bout a half mile from where we’d gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the big fool said to push on.

Well, I’m not going to point any moral;
I’ll leave that for yourself
Maybe you’re still walking, you’re still talking
You’d like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We’re — waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.

Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep! Soon even a
Tall man’ll be over his head, we’re
Waist deep in the Big Muddy!
And the big fool says to push on!

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