Let's take it from the top

The first and only time we watched the musical Hamilton was when it streamed through the Disney+ app on Apple TV in July of 2020. That was during the heart of the pandemic summer. The only one in our family at the time who liked watching it was me. Hamilton was created by Lin-Manuel Miranda and it blends hip-hop, jazz, R&B, and traditional show tunes to tell the story of America's first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton. 

It was fascinating to watch and the music catchy, but it was difficult to understand at times when the fast-paced music and scenes blurred by across the screen. Thank goodness for closed captioning. Now, both our kids love the music from Hamilton, especially our youngest Bryce, literally singing the lyrics for every song (and Hamilton was all songs).

My wife Amy and I haven't been the big musical fans throughout our lives, though, at least not until our kids became interested in the theater, so that's changing now. Otherwise, the movie Grease with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John was always our only go-to musical. Because John and Olivia. C'mon. But we did take the kids to see a Broadway production of Wicked a few years ago in New York and that blew us all away.

Pre-pandemic both our kids participated in a sweet theater troupe called Musical Mondays. They got to play a variety of roles, which was so much fun to watch their fun. Bryce participated in another private theater program after that, and then Beatrice got involved in the student-run high school theater. Bryce joined the high school theater as well their freshman year. There is a teacher-advisor for theater who helps guide each production, but it's still mostly student run. 

The high school productions that both our kids have been in to date were fantastic. Such talented kids (including our own!). The last musical they were in was Little Shop of Horrors, which was something neither of us had ever seen. Not even the 1986 movie with Rick Moranis, Steve Martin, and many others. I've known what it was about since the movie came out back then, but it wasn't until we saw it in its entirety that we realized what we'd been missing. The doo-wap 1950's music kept our feet tapping and dark comedy kept us laughing. 

We did end up watching the movie the day after we saw the high school production, and while it had its moments (Bill Murray's character was hilarious), we preferred watching the kids sing, dance, and act. Beatrice even got to be one of three puppeteers, working the smaller plant puppet during the "Grow for Me" song. 

Bryce has three years of high school theater left and Beatrice has one year left. Both kids have had minor roles and been in all the ensemble scenes, and the more confident they get, the more they'd love a bigger part. They'll keep working at their craft and keep auditioning.

After every high school production, there's a tradition where the kids give a "theater robe" to a student who they feel went above and beyond during the show. The robe has memorabilia from past productions sewn onto it, and the student they pick then sews something onto the robe from the last production they did. After Little Shop of Horrors, the kids gave Beatrice the robe. 

Not only that, Beatrice is also on the theater committee for her senior year and gets to help decide the next play and musical. And the murder mystery play she recommended was picked for the fall! And she's going to be the director, too! We're so proud!

Both our kids have found their people in theater (and choir), as the saying goes, and we're so grateful. And next semester, Beatrice gets to call out, "Let's take it from the top".

We can't wait!

From Now Until Forever

"...(Forever) Got a feeling that forever
(Together) We are gonna stay together
(Forever) From now until forever
You're the biggest part of me
You're the life that breathes in me
You're the biggest part
Of me..."

–Ambrosia, Biggest Part of Me

The summer before I started high school, I typed the song lyrics out on a single sheet of paper for my girlfriend at the time. The song was "Biggest Part of Me" and had just been released in April of 1980 and became one of Ambrosia's biggest hits. Music had become a defining part of who I was and how I saw the world. 

I was an avid reader then (and now), and that same year I read Lucifer's Hammer, an end-of-world story set Central Valley of California near where I grew up, and that book started my love of reading about how humanity survives a natural or manmade catastrophe.

Decades later, after my wife Amy and I first met, we discovered we both loved mostly the same music, including Ambrosia's "Biggest Part of Me", and that we both loved end-of-the-world stories. Hopeful romantics who felt humanity was hopelessly doomed. 

In 1999, the night before we moved in together, Amy took me to see Ambrosia at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. And we danced to our song. Four years later we were married and we danced to our song (it's been the wedding for many folks over the decades). Every time we hear the song we dance to it and sing it to each other.

Ambrosia played locally again this weekend and we went to see the show, while . Before the show started, we met a lovely couple named Jim and Nancy while we were eating dinner across the street. Nancy's cousin was one of the keyboardists for Ambrosia, Mary, and the wife of the drummer and one of the original band founders, Burleigh Drummond. We told them it was our wedding song, and they smiled and said that was wonderful and that it's been many couple's wedding song. We smiled and said we couldn't wait for the show. I was so grateful for such synchronicity! 

The Ambrosia show was wonderful. They played their hits and some covers and songs we had never heard before. They played "our" song and we danced to it just like we always do. 

Here we are in our 29th year with two teens, a cat, and a dog. We're still hopeful romantics trying to make a positive difference. We also still love our end-of-world stories; we still feel that humanity is doomed. But not as hopelessly anymore. It's not quite cynicism -- it's pragmatic realism now laced with mindful hope. 

The doomsday fiction we've read and watched over the decades usually ended with some form mindful hope, of the people wanting to be better, rebuild, and make the best of what was left. Understandably our kids do not like this about us. They're very aware of the world they're inheriting now and want to do something more directly active to improving it. We hope they do.

Trust me, we really don't want the world to end. We want a better world for our children. We're working on a better world for our children. Our children are working on a better world for our children. But if the end of the world comes, we'll go out with a love-filled bang dancing to "Biggest Part of Me" and salvaging as much of the best of us we can along the way -- from now until forever -- amen.

Digging Those Christmas Beats

Five years ago, I started playing the drums. Something I had wanted to do for decades I finally did. It's been amazing. It's been challenging. It's fired synapses in my brain I never knew I had. And most importantly, it's been fun. 

Since then, I usually play for at least one hour five to six days a week, before or after dinner, when I'm not traveling for work. I've had lessons, used online programs, and have a regular practice regimen. I've also learned over 180 songs I've loved over the years. Mostly ground in rock and roll but also including pop, rhythm and blues, soul, and even contemporary country. I get to channel amazing drummers that I aspire to play as proficiently as they do someday. 

The first two years I was lucky to get through and learn one to two minutes of a song, but then I finally improved enough to get through entire songs. Not note for note; I do my best to hit 80%+ of a song and record it. On average it takes two to three hours for me to learn a song, and once I record it, I move on to another one.

The past three Christmases I've learned various holiday songs, but this Christmas, I asked my wife Amy and our kids Beatrice and Bryce if there was a song they wanted me to learn to play. 

Beatrice didn't have to think about it, she just immediately said, "You know the song 'Do They Know It's Christmas?' -- that's the one I want. Who's it by again?"

"Band Aid," I said. "It was one of the super-group awareness and fundraiser songs like 'We Are The World'. Lots of MTV 'first wave' and rock and pop artists of the 1980's."

"Cool," she said. 

It's great because Beatrice is a big retro-80's-sound fan and likes bands like Duran Duran and others. I recently learned Hungry Like the Wolf and she loved it. 

The Band Aid song was a perfect choice for our caring, empathic kid who loves Christmastime and can't wait for us to decorate every year.

"...And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time..."

And oh my, Phil Collins played the drums on this. I had totally forgotten about that. So much fun to play Do They Know It's Christmas?. 

Bryce was also quick to select and said, "Play The Waitresses song 'Christmas Wrappings'. That's one of my favorite ones."

"You got it," I said.

What a perfect choice for Bryce, our sometimes aloof, and always "punk rock", yet super sweet and loving kid who also loves Christmastime, even when they play it down. 

"...Bah Humbug, now that's too strong!
'Cause it is my favorite holiday..."

Billy Ficca was the original drummer on the song. So much fun to play Christmas Wrappings.

For Amy, it was a little harder, just because there are so many holiday songs we both love. One of her favorite bands is Train, and so last year one of the songs I learned was their rendition of This Christmas. 

Instead, she went more traditional, "How about, 'We Need a Little Christmas'?" 

"Which one?" I asked. I looked up some of the versions. "Johnny Mathis?"

"Yes," said. "That one."

What a perfect choice for Amy, always encouraging smiles and cheer throughout the year. Beatrice also likes all the old-school traditional singers and Christmas songs. There's no drummer credited to this song that I could find, but I just started learning We Need a Little Christmas and the big band sound is also fun to play. 

"...For we need a little music, need a little laughter
Need a little singing ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy, happy ever after
We need a little Christmas now..."

And there you have it. I'm fulfilling our family Christmas song requests, I keep learning from fantastic drummers, and we're all digging those Christmas beats. I hope you are, too. 

Light Up to the Music

Bryce expected me to say no. I'm known as the fussy dad who always says no. But I didn't. Not this time anyway. They wanted to go to a youth Halloween concert and fundraiser being put on by a local music school called Be Natural Music at an amazing local venue called Felton Music Hall, and one of Bryce's good friends was singing in one of the bands. Bryce asked me if we could go. And I said yes.

To be fair, Bryce knew I loved music as much as they did, and because the concert was local, I said yes. Our whole family loves music. My wife Amy and I are six years apart in age but love most of the same music from the 1970's, 1980's, and beyond. Both Bryce and our oldest Beatrice are in the high school choir, and their love of popular music as kids has morphed into a love of alternative, punk, rock, and more as teens. 

The music we loved growing up throughout adolescence became the permanent coming-of-age soundtracks of our lives, from positive heart thumpers to bittersweet soul crushers and throughout the spectrum in between. Our kids are experiencing the same thing now with their music, with an added plus: enjoying some of the same music we grew up on. And some of their new music we're digging, too.

A few weeks before the youth concert, I celebrated my 60th birthday. We had a wonderful celebration with family and friends and Bryce wanted to play the guitar and sing. They were nervous and we weren't sure they'd do it, but do it they did. And it was wonderful. 

They also wore a Rush t-shirt, too. In fact, they've taken many of my Rush t-shirts and wear them proudly. Beatrice still has one of my old Rush sweatshirts she wears once in a while, too. Neither of them like Rush's music, but even without knowing their music as intimately as I do, they do understand the spirit of individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, empathy, and love. The kids are in luck, because I'll be buying more merch at the Rush Fifty Something tour happening next year. Never say never. 

Bryce and I had a rockin' good time at the youth concert. Each band played three songs, but what I wasn't expecting was the quality of the musicianship and the singing. Bryce's friend belted out The Weight by The Band and two other songs, including Fire on the Mountain by The Grateful Dead. Cover after cover, these kids rocked The Police, Ozzy Osbourne, Fleetwood Mac, and so much more. 

What's old is new again. Watching Bryce light up to the music and their friend singing lit me up (naturally, of course); I know they want to be on stage someday. They actually already have sang solos via choir, but now the goal is to play the guitar and sing on stage. I've also asked Bryce if they wanted to jam in the garage with me and my drums -- still working on that one. 

It was nice to see and feel all the musicians at the youth concert light up to the music they were playing. I lit up. The audience lit up. The place was rocking. Our kids need the music more than ever these days. Oh, blessed rock and roll. Thank you for always coming through.

Loudly, Proudly, and with Much Love

On the way to my sister's house for Thanksgiving, our kids turned us on to some great new music. Artists we never would've heard otherwise -- beabadoobee, Alex G, Will Wood, The Volunteers, The Wallows, Glass Animals, and many others. Stuff that's not played on what's left of mainstream radio. Some of it sounding like shades of our music pasts from the 70's, 80's, and 90's. 

My wife Amy and I smiled in the front seat as we drove on and our kids excitedly took turns sharing their favorite artists, bands, and songs. Not all the music was our "cup of tea" as the expression goes, but much of it we really liked. It was also great insight into their teenage sensibilities.

Our kids have grown up hearing our music over and over again -- pop, rock, soul, rhythm and blues, and even some contemporary indie folk and country. Amy and I are also big fans of what's now called Yacht Rock -- smooth but surprisingly complex early "emo" (emotional) pop-rock from the 70's and 80's (think Steely Dan, Toto, Christopher Cross, Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins, Ambrosia). We just finished watching a great documentary called Yacht Rock: A DOCKumentary from HBO Documentary Films that we highly recommend for those who love that music.

Early on in my life my mom turned me on to that music and more -- rhythm and blues, soul, pop, and of course my favorite, rock (and roll). Everything from Janis Joplin to the Ohio Players to Michael Jackson to Earth Wind & Fire to Pablo Cruise to The Doobie Brothers. 

Billy Joel's hit "Only the Good Die Young" was the first 45 record I bought with my allowance. My sister and I walked to the local mall and went to the Woolworth's record section where we would check out all the records for what seemed like hours. Every time we had enough money to buy a new single, we made the trek to Woolworth's. 

A few years later when I was 13, I joined the Columbia Record Club and bought 13 records for 1 cent, which really turned out to be more in shipping and handling. But my parents weren't happy when they found out I still had to buy three more albums over two years at full overpriced Columbia Record Club prices. However, those first 13 albums were my coming of age -- Kiss, Kansas, Journey, Boston, Queen, Aerosmith, AC/DC, and others (becoming the Rush fan I am today would come a few years later). 

Between then and now there's been so much amazing music I've experienced, and I must credit my nephew Nick for turning me onto to some of it during the 2010's. His mother (my sister) and father were also grounded in
tons of great music and both my nephew and niece love it all, too. Again, thank you, Nana (Mom). 

One of many shared loves of Amy and I that's fueled our love for nearly three decades is this very music we grew up with, our coming-of-age music, and the music we've grown together with ever since we met. Our kids don't necessarily like all these past musical artists and bands as much as we do, but our music has influenced them more than they've realized, just like my mom's music influenced my sister and me. 

Our kids grew up loving pop music (Taylor Swift and many others), but today along with pop, Beatrice also loves alt-rock from the 90's to today (thank you grunge), and Bryce loves edgy new punkish-rock and amazing new singer-songwriter music. Now the coming-of-age circle is complete because they're turning us on to a lot of great new music. 

But the greatest tribute for me, even though they don't listen to the band (yet -- ha!), is the fact that my daughters wear my Rush t-shirts and sweatshirts. That most certainly rocks, because what they don't know is that to me (and millions of fans), Rush has always represented individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, and empathy -- all the things and more we want for them -- loudly, proudly, and with much love.

Rocked Our Socks Off

Five minutes before all the rest of the rowdy concertgoers were let in, me and my friends got to rush the stage. That's because one of my good friends with us at the time had an uncle who ran security at the concert venue. It was only a 5-minute lead, but that was plenty of time to get right in center-front of the stage. Moments later the crush of everyone else hit us and shoved us up against the railing. We were fine, adrenaline pumping, and couldn't wait for the headliner to start. The opening band was After The Fire, a British new wave rock band known for covering the song "Der Kommissar," but that was about it. I remember people throwing things at the band, which wasn't cool, and the band yelling at the audience to stop.

After a short break that felt like forever, the headliner took the stage. It was the rock band Van Halen (with David Lee Roth) on their Diver Down tour. I was 16 years old. It rocked my socks off. 

That was my first concert and I'll never forget it. The irony for me was that my first concert could've been my long-time favorite band Rush on their Moving Pictures tour the year before, but that didn't happen. I just wasn't quite the fan yet back then that I became soon after. But Van Halen wasn't some meager consolation prize -- it was rock and roll heaven. Another fun fact was that a few years later when Sammy Hagar was singing with Van Halen, it was Amy's first concert. 

Decades later our youngest Bryce got to go to their first concert. Beatrice actually went to her first concert first last year with her mom to see the Jonas Brothers. Both her and Amy really enjoyed it, but because I didn't go, I couldn't really comment on it. 

But for Bryce, I can. We all went to the show and I had never heard of the artist before until Bryce started talking about her and her music. Her name is Melanie Martinez and the kids love her. I mean super love. Her music was moody broody alt pop rock funk -- hard to pin down and yet very listenable and an amazing stage show. She's a multi-platinum artist who doesn't get much radio play, primarily because she cusses a lot in her songs. But hey, the kids are teens now. Beatrice likes the artist too, just not as much as Bryce does.

Bryce bugged us for months to go to Melanie Martinez's concert and we final bought the tickets for the whole family to go. The concert itself was Mother's Day evening, and while it was a late night for a school/work night (and everybody had to get up and go the next morning, no matter how hard Bryce tried to get out of it), we all really enjoyed it. 

Like you do when you go to your favorite musical artist or band live concert, all the fans stood and sang and danced the entire time, and Bryce didn't let up once the during Melanie Martinez's artistic performance. Beatrice mostly stood and knew some of the songs, and Amy and I, being the parents in tow (and there were many parents in tow), sat down multiple times to rest. I even waited in line to get concert merch for Bryce. 

Just like when I saw Van Halen (with David Lee Roth), and a few years later Amy saw Van Halen (with Sammy Hagar), and last year Beatrice saw the Jonas Brothers -- this was Bryce's first concert, and all of our firsts rocked our socks off, something we will never forget. Amen. 

Breaking Out

Our youngest Bryce first performed on stage in preschool singing Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off". They looked so sweet in a white frilly dress but was very nervous while performing. Like almost going to cry nervous, which was the same reaction they had when first trying out for a theater production. 

Three productions later, and Bryce has more confidence than ever, still primarily performing in the ensemble and taking on small roles. They have auditioned for bigger-smaller roles, so maybe now with the experience they've gotten, Bryce will land one next time. 

Because there will be a next time. Bryce has got the theater bug for sure. Right before opening night of this latest All About Theater youth musical production of Urinetown, I told Bryce good luck, which they again quickly reminded me that saying good luck is back luck, and the correct expression is "break a leg". 

"Break a leg then," I said. "Love you."

"Thank you," Bryce said. "Love you, too."

The musical was a satirical social commentary about class (rich and poor) and corruption and what happens after a 20-year drought when using the "facilities" (toilets) cost money. It was really good; these kids are amazing. Including Bryce!

Another funny musical we watched recently was a high school production The Drowsy Chaperone, a story about a middle-aged, musical theater fan who, feeling "blue", decides to play for the audience an LP of his favorite musical, the fictional 1928 show The Drowsy Chaperone. It's a fun parody of a 1920s American musical comedy. 

And lo and behold, there was our oldest Beatrice working behind the scenes as part of the stage crew. Well, it wasn't a surprise, because we already knew she was helping, and now she has the theater bug, too. She even wants to audition for the next production, whatever it is!

For the past year now, Bryce's introverted love of acting, dancing, and singing has definitely extroverted and increased exponentially. That includes theater and choir. And Beatrice is now enamored with the theater as well (she also has a lovely voice and said she wants to direct, too). We all are enamored with the theater now -- watching Wicked on Broadway during our spring break was quite the experience. We're so grateful to have done that. 

Amy and I may not break out into song and dance for you, but our kids most certainly will. However, if you ever need a drummer...

Never Be Remiss About Missing Out

I didn't realize it was national competition. I only thought it was a local choral festival we were going to. It's probably better that I didn't know, since I agreed to play the drums on one of the songs for the middle school advanced (gold) choir that our youngest Bryce is part of. The song was Nanuma, a traditional greeting song from Ghana. 

It's a fairly simple repetitive beat, a welcoming pattern, which made sense since it is a greeting song. I practiced it for over a month along with my usual drum regimen nearly every night I was at home and not traveling for work. 

Halfway through that month, the choir teacher sent me an email that she had another person to drum, someone who was going to do it in the first place, so I was off the hook. Now, I could've just let it be at that point, and walked away from it. I've had enough work stress of late, so why would I want to stress about performing in front of people for the first time, including both my children, Bryce and Beatrice. Both were supportive, although Bryce might have been kind of mixed about it in the first place. Supportive, but mixed. I mean, I am Dad, and they are teen, so there's that. 

But I didn't walk away. I wrote the choir teacher back and said I'd been practicing and really wanted to do it. She replied excitedly that I should still do it; she thought I'd want to back out. Both my wife Amy and I would also help chaperone the choir event, because after the performance all the kids were going to the Great America amusement park. 

The morning we left for the choir festival, I had to pick out an acoustic tom drum, stand, and sticks from the choir/band room at school to bring with me. I play an electronic kit at home and have never really played acoustic. Acoustics are much louder and the feel is different, even though I have mesh heads at home, which have a give feel like acoustics. 

We all rode the bus to the choral performance, then came the performance itself. I set up my drum and then stood poised sticks in had. The choir took to the risers. The choir teacher hit the piano key for pitch, started waving her hands in the beat count, looked at me, and I started the song. In retrospect, I wasn't actually nervous to perform, just more nervous about being too loud. As the choir sang the lovely greeting song Nanuma, I drummed lightly until the very end when I drove it home. 

And then it was over. Less than three minutes of song overall. It wasn't a big audience, but here were family and friends and another choir in the room waiting. After I was done I sat and listened to the other two songs Bryce's choir sang, which were wonderful. In fact, our middle school choir won gold in the top 10% of schools participating at the Forum Music Festival! 

Not because of my drumming, of course, but I was still proud to be a part of it (and couldn't wait to share with my drum teacher!). Nope, you're never too old to learn new things. Never. We encourage our teens to try new things, to overcome any anxiety about trying new things, and continue to develop the new things they end up enjoying, maybe even loving, like sports, theater, art, music, and more. Just like they're doing now, with theater winning the hearts and minds of both kids (more on that soon). We never want them to be remiss about missing out. 

Magically Elastic

She picked up the tea bag and painted the blank page with it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Our oldest child, Beatrice, deftly swept the tea bag back and forth across the paper. "A special project," she said.

"Are you painting with the tea bag?" I asked rhetorically. Of course that was what she was doing.

"Yes, I am."

"Very cool."

She then explained to me how once the paper dried, she would pour rice onto the paper and trace around whatever shapes it made. 

"What's it going to be?" 

Bea smiled. "I'll show you later."

I couldn't wait. She's been into art since she was little and has become quite the artist. Yes, that's easy for me to say, being her proud father who loves her and who is biased, but she really has a unique eye. Nearly every day after school she's sketching and drawing, and nearly every night before bed she's sketching and drawing. She prefers pencil and ink, but has worked in different mediums over the years. 

She recently drew a self-portrait, which I wish I could share, but she didn't want me to. She beautifully captured the awkward unsureness of a teenager, while at the same time, a calm and confident determination centered inside the adolescent maelstrom. That is one thing we've worked hard to help instill in both our daughters, and it really did emanate from her self-portrait.

Back to her latest artwork -- she poured rice onto the dried tea-stained paper and traced the seemingly random shapes the rice created on the page. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Something," Bea said.

I couldn't wait to see what she'd do with it, although I did ask her not to make a mess, and to clean up the ultimate mess she would make. C'mon, I'm Dad. 

Beatrice finished her latest piece of artwork and shared it. It was an imaginative map of a fantastical land, something I used to do after reading Lord of the Rings when I was her age. Except hers came from a spontaneous idea of drawing random shapes around rice on paper and then making it all up in her head. 

Creative learning and expression are so important to our family. Especially through music, art, and meditation. Both Beatrice and her sister Bryce love art. Bryce is also now in musical theater and loving it. Amy is an avid puzzle person and meditates regularly to keep her brain and spirit sound and in shape. I meditate as well along with drumming. These learning quests began in earnest during the first year of the pandemic and haven't let up.

That's because creative learning through music, art, and meditation helps us all process life and map its endless possibilities, even when it seems like there aren't many. These mental maps are the creative expressions from learning and experience that empower us keep us magically elastic and living our best lives. Our latest meditative mantra was also "my life unfolds in divine order." Amen to that. Keep the maps coming, Beatrice. 

Never Too Old

Sometimes it can take decades to do something you love. Something you always wanted to learn but never took the time to do so. Something you tried in fits and starts that never stuck. Something that would take a pandemic to jumpstart it. 

I took guitar lessons when I was 9 years old, but never played much after that, or played any other instrument in junior high or high school. I never had any interest in joining band, but I did always love music, and sang in choir in junior high and high school. There was one year in high school when I did pick the guitar again to collaborate with an old friend I was in choir with. Someone who eventually got very serious about music and played professionally. We learned the Eagles' song Lyin' Eyes, but then never played it anywhere except inside my house. 

Although I loved all sorts of music growing up, thanks to my mother, with a particular affinity to R&B, rock, and pop, besides guitar, the only drumming I ever imagined doing was air drumming. I realized as I got older how passionate I was about drumming. 

And there were a few fits and starts of trying to learn. In my 20's, I remember buying a practice pad, drumsticks, and a rudiment lesson book. That lasted a couple of weeks and was then buried in the closet. I tried again in my 30's, and that only lasted a couple of weeks as well. Then in my late 40's, my wife Amy bought me an electronic drum set from Costco. I was super jazzed about it, set it up, and played off and on for a few months. But then that drum set got pushed around the garage and eventually sat unused gathering dust. 

That's all it was ever going to be, until the year 2020. That year started off with the death of my favorite drummer, lyricist, and writer, Neil Peart. Two months later, the world locked down everywhere due to the coronavirus pandemic. Shortly after that, I carved out a new location in the garage, set up my drums again, and restarted some video lessons. This time I lasted months and showed no signs of stopping. I practiced every night after dinner, at least 5-6 times per week.

In December 2020, I sold my old electronic kit and upgraded to a new one. I started new lessons and kept going. Two and a half years later, now in my mid-50's, and I'm really playing the drums. I'm not joining a band anytime soon, but I am playing regularly, learning, and getting better. Sometimes when I come in from practice, Amy and our daughters will say, "I heard you, Dad. Great job!" That means the world to me. 

The takeaway for our children is that they should always pursue what they love, no matter at what age or if it pays the bills or not. Mine never will, but that was never the point. The point was the love of drumming, learning, and keep me mentally and physically fit. There's lots of research out there about how learning challenging new activities keeps an old brain trained and active. I even started my own fun Big Daddy Drumming Practice YouTube channel channeling all the stellar drummers I'm learning from. Rock on, kids. You're never too old to learn new things. 

Their Daily Melodies

I remember holding our daughters after they were born. And every time I held them after that, I was in awe of their breathing, and then eventually their babbling. Listening to them was like a daily mindful meditation. Their peaceful sleep with eyes shut tight and their alert awareness with eyes wide open. These tiny creatures were completely dependent on us to keep them safe and alive. I held them and loved them more than I ever could've imagined. 

Because for many years prior to that, I never imagined holding my own babies. Neither did my wife Amy. We just didn't want to have children. After we each grew up in our own unstable environments, bringing a child into the world just wasn't something we wanted to do. We just wanted to enjoy our lives together and see the world. 

I had crappy father role models, too. An abusive birth father who berated and beat my mother. An abusive first stepfather who terrorized my mother and sister and sexually assaulted me. But even when we found the father we never had in our second stepfather, the one who's name we took, the one who loved and cared for us as his own, it wasn't enough to convince me that I could do the same someday. Or, would want to do the same someday.

One of the many things my dad (second stepfather) instilled in me was listening. Just listening. Without judgment. And sometimes without even talking, because listening was more than verbal. This was especially important during our teenage years, which were the years shortly after our mom and him had gotten together and married. As teens, we didn't think anyone was listening, especially our parents, but Dad listened well. He still was dad, though, and every single time I'd lock my keys in my car as a teenager, which I did a lot, he'd shake his head and say, "Oh, son." And then curse a little and explain to me how and why I should better manage my keys.

When my mom couldn't help herself being reactive and judgmental about a situation, my dad usually could do the opposite. He would listen and was very thoughtful and measured in his response to whatever the situation was. What I didn't realize until over two decades later was how much his listening impacted me. 

Amy and I eventually changed our minds about having children and we're so grateful we did. Back then, we'd been listening to each other without really talking literally about having kids. Like my dad taught me, both verbal and non-verbal listening are key to quality committed relationships -- from spouses to children to friends to any relationship. Holding our newborns and then watching them grow and thrive as children and now to being practically teens has flown by, but we've also celebrated and lived within every moment, which slows time dramatically. 

We actually control life's tempo more than we think we do. It's like me finally learning how to play the drums. It's not just speed or complexity of the literal sequenced beats on the snare, toms, high-hat, and symbols that are important, it's also the empty spaces in between the beats, the rests that connect all the notes. Combined, these music measures are what tell the entire story. If you're listening that is. Our now practically teens may not think we're always listening to them, but we are, and listening to their daily melodies resonates with our deepest love. 

Thank you, Dad. And to grateful "listening" fathers everywhere, Happy Father's Day. 

Right Within Our Hearts

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Soon the bells will start
And the thing that'll make 'em ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart..."

—Bing Crosby, It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas (written by Meredith Willson)

This time the rule was broken. The rule being, we don't do or listen to anything Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving. Like ever. No matter how tempted any of us are. However, it was still one full week before Thanksgiving and one of the radio stations we flip to in the car started playing Christmas music. 

And the one person who delighted the most in finding out this musical fact was our oldest child, Beatrice. 

"Ugh. Turn the channel," I said.

"No, leave it here! I want to listen!" Bea said.

"Please, turn it," I said to my wife, Amy, sighing audibly.

"No!" Bea protested.

Our youngest child, Bryce, was oblivious, listening to her own music in the backseat.

"Let's just leave it and listen," Amy said, smiling.

"Yes, this one's my favorite," Bea said, referring to "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas."

And so it began, the Christmas season in music. All the classics. All the contemporary covers of the classics. All the originals. Pop. Rock. Alternative. Soul. R&B. Country. All. Of. Them. 

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like Christmas and all the music -- I love it and all the music. Our entire family loves it all. But the rule had always been followed, going back to my childhood, until now. 

It probably didn't help that we were going to Disneyland the week of Thanksgiving, which had already been decorated for the holidays since mid-November. That trip is a story for another time, but just know that Christmas music seemed to emanate from every square inch of that happiest place on earth. 

Shortly after Thanksgiving, our happiest place on earth was driving around nearby neighborhoods to see the holiday lights that people had put out so far. Not too many yet, although there were pockets of magical lights that we slowed to soak in. Of course we were listening to one of now two local radio stations that were playing nothing but holiday music. Except Bryce, who again was in the backseat listening to her own music, although I did hear some "ooo's" and "aaah's" from her watching the lights as we drove by.

Then Bea's favorite Christmas song came on, and we sang along quietly together with Bing Crosby. She doesn't sing out loud much, which is too bad, because she has such a lovely voice like her mother's. We sang along with many Christmas songs as we drove through neighborhoods looking at lights. None of the upside-down bonkers world we've been living in mattered at that moment. None of the big milestones we track for our kids mattered either. Nothing mattered except for our shared love of Christmas magic, always right within our hearts. 

In All My Available Light

"I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time." 

—Neil Peart, Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road

Every time I look back on it, I can't believe I said no to Rush. It was our sophomore year in high school, 1981, and one of my friends, a budding musician himself at the time, came up to me one day and asked me if I wanted to go to Fresno to see the sold out Moving Pictures tour. Which, according to my new fancy-schmancy Rush: Wandering the Face of the Earth: The Official Touring History, was June 7, 1981, and tickets were $9.50 in advance.

$9.50 -- and I told him I couldn't afford to go. That was a lot for a high school kid in 1981, but I'm sure I could've scrounged up the money. The truth was, believe it or not, I wasn't quite the fan then that I eventually came just over one year later when Signals came out. I did already dig all the big hits from Moving Pictures and some of the earlier albums, and knew that Geddy Lee (bass/keyboards), Alex Lifeson (guitar) and Neil Peart (drums/lyricist) were amazing progressive rock musicians, but I wasn't quite the huge fan yet. Plus, I didn't think my parents would let me go to a concert yet either and was afraid to ask them.

"No, his mind is not for rent
To any god or government.
Always hopeful, yet discontent
He knows changes aren’t permanent –
But change is..."

However, something was brewing within me during those formative teenage years, something that would connect me more and more with Rush's music. The stormy angst of lower middle-class white teenage-land, the longing to succeed, to be the best in everything I did, to be liked by everyone no matter what, and to never fail. Ever. At any and all costs. The pressure I put on myself then combined with growing up in a broken family, domestic violence and sexual abuse circled me like a category 5 hurricane.

"Look in
To the eye of the storm
Look out
For the force without form
Look around
At the sight and sound
Look in, Look out, Look around..."

I felt safe in the hurricane's eye for the first two and a half years of high school, until the high winds drove me into the brutal storm. Anxiety and severe panic attacks ensued, my grades suffered (I had been a straight A student until my senior year), and the dreams of going away to college crumbled, at least until a year after high school graduation.

"Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone..."

I rarely talked about what I experienced at the time with anyone, even my closest of friends, and definitely not my family. I was close to my mom but I couldn't articulate what was happening inside me -- that I didn't want to be what everyone wanted me to be at the time, and in the years after high school. That I desperately needed to heal the scared and broken child inside me, so afraid to become the me I longed to be. My withdrawn anger turned to depression and even further anxiety.

"Anger got bare knuckles
Anger play the fool
Anger wear a crown of thorns
Reverse the golden rule
Then you learn the lesson
That it’s tough to be so cool..."

But no amount of reading (including the Bible, Orwell, Fitzgerald, Conrad, Lee, Ellison, Baldwin, Salinger, Faulkner, Golding, Steinbeck, Swift, Woolf, Hemingway, Huxley, Beckett, Kafka, Lessing, Poe, King -- Martin Luther and Stephen -- and so many more), nor the music and lyrics of Rush, or the unsure but kind words from my family and friends could fully console me. Much anxiety, let downs and failures later, my awakening to being me and living life on my terms would take another 15 years to be fully realized.

"When we lift the covers from our feelings
We expose our insecure spots
Trust is just as rare as devotion —
Forgive us our cynical thoughts..."

The music and lyrics from Rush did help along the way, though. Neil Peart, the drummer and primary lyricist and eventual writer of non-fiction works such as The Masked Rider, Ghost Rider, Traveling Music, Far and Near, Roadshow and many others, inspired me to be a better human, to be independent yet inclusive, pragmatic yet hopeful, loving of self and others, and to be present and always be adventuring and learning, to keep living a full life.

"If I could wave my magic wand
I’d make everything all right..."

I didn't see Rush for the first time until May 24, 1986, in Sacramento, California. General admission then was only $16.50 and it was another sold out show. I was with my best friends from junior high, high school and college. The hot valley sun beat up on us that day, although we were feeling no pain, that's for sure. The show was fabulous and I never in my life have seen musical prowess on stage, then and now, all coming from three individuals. Ever since that first concert, I've seen them many times with the best of friends, and each show has elevated me to new emotional and spiritual heights.

"Against the run of the mill
Static as it seems
We break the surface tension
With our wild kinetic dreams
Curves and lines —
Of grand designs..."

Neil's words definitely contributed to my spiritual therapy over the years and solidified my fandom for sure. Especially from the albums Signals, Grace Under Pressure, Power Windows, Hold Your Fire, Presto, Roll the Bones, Counterparts and Test for Echo. However, all the albums now are important to me today pre- and post-Signals (yes, I keep saying albums, because I'm old school that way), each of them inextricably linked to so many moments in my life.

"I believe in what I see
I believe in what I hear
I believe that what I’m feeling
Changes how the world appears..."

And then in 1997/98, Neil's daughter and wife passed away within 10 months of each other, and for many of us devastated fans, that was the end of Rush. Even his bandmates Geddy and Alex thought it was over. But it wasn't, and after reading Ghost Rider, Neil's healing road that included riding 55,000 miles on his motorcycle throughout North America, Mexico and South America, helped to bring him back to life. He remarried, had another daughter, and Rush played once again, giving us all another four albums, many live shows and a few more books. Plus, there are these fantastic documentaries available as well: Beyond the Lighted Stage and Time Stand Still (a true love letter from fans).

"Surge of energy, spark of inspiration
The breath of love is electricity
Maybe Time is bird in flight
Endlessly mocking
Here we come out of the cradle
Endlessly rocking
Endlessly rocking..."

I never got to meet Neil; he was wary of the public eye and not comfortable around fans. I did get to meet Geddy, though. That was quite a treat. Last year one of my work trips to Toronto aligned with Geddy Lee's book tour promoting his collection of electric basses (titled Big Beautiful Book of Bass). He interviewed on stage and then did a book signing. I even got to fist-bump him after he signed my book! Maybe one of these days I'll get to meet Alex.

"He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine..."

My last show was with my best friend from college in San Jose on July 23, 2015, where tickets started at $49 each (although ours were a lot more than that). My friend was sure he saw Neil riding his motorcycle outside of the arena earlier in the day, although I'm not sure it was him (but we can still wish it was).

Shortly after that last tour, Neil said he was done and the band officially retired. And that was it.

Years pass and then I'm on my way to see my dear friends of 30-40+ years in early January, 2020, when my nephew texts me:

I’m sorry to hear about Neil Peart.

What? I thought. That led to me calling my wife and asking her to look up this news online.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Yes, he passed away. It says he had brain cancer."

"Suddenly —
You were gone
From all the lives
You left your mark upon..."

I tried to voice text my friends to tell them the news that Neil Peart was dead as I was driving, but Siri couldn't get the words right, so it kept coming out:

Which, in a strange fandom way for many, he was. I hope other fans find humorous solace in that. As I wrote recently, listening to favorite old songs (and albums) is just like looking at faded cherished photographs -- the visceral memories attached to each are forever bound to our hearts. We relive them through our ears of today, the past pleasures and the pain, one song at a time.

"Run to light from shadow
Sun gives me no rest
Promise offered in the east
Broken in the west
Chase the sun around the world
I want to look at life – 
In the available light..."

This morning we were up early, as my family always is, and we drove down to the ocean just before sunrise to catch the birth of a new day. Glorious in rich burning colors, the glowing sliver moon basked in its birth along with us. We held each other, because every day we live our best lives, my wife and daughters, a loving promise we make to each other without compromise.

Neil Peart's life and work has always inspired me to chase the sun around the world and look at life in the available light. To not waste my days just existing, but instead, to use my time well.  Sometimes I can still feel broken, and darkness can creep in, and yet, I keep working on living my best life in all my available light, ample with love and respect for myself, my family and for others. Amen.

Thank you, Neil. 

"The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect

The way you live, the gifts that you give

In the fullness of time

It’s the only return that you expect..."

One Song at a Time

"And it doesn't matter how I cry
My tears, so far, are a waste of time
If I turn away
Am I strong enough to see it through
Go crazy is what I will do..."

–The Bee Gees, If I Can't Have You (as sung by Yvonne Elliman)

Every time I hear the song today, the chorus still haunts me. The crescendo of keyboards, strings, horns and Yvonne Elliman's voice brings back the old angst and longing. Or, at least, what my idea of longing was way back then, that new funny feeling trouncing on my stomach like a trampoline in the hot sun. I didn't fully understand the words of the song then, just how they made me feel, like waking from an amazing dream that wasn't real.

All I could think about was her, one of the girls in my sixth grade class. My awkward memories of her birthday party that year are snapshots still fresh in my memory, even decades later. I had the biggest crush on her and I never said a word to anyone about it at the time.

Besides "If I Can't Have You," the other song I remember most vividly from the birthday party was "Ballroom Blitz" by the glam-rock band Sweet.

"And the man in the back is ready to crack
As he raises his hands to the sky
And the girl in the corner is everyone's woman
She could kill you with a wink of her eye..."

And that's where I stood, along the periphery of the room, a skinny, asthmatic and shy 12-year-old boy pining for the most beautiful girl in the world, who most likely just invited me to her party to be nice. We weren't even really friends at the time, but we did share mutual friends. It was my first real crush that I can remember, and it was then that my hormones began to rage like rivers after a spring Sierra thaw. But, my pubescent heart was broken. Self-inflicted, but broken. She didn't say more than a few words to me during her party, and I didn't say more than a few words to anyone that afternoon. I remember listening to the song over and over again (my mom was a big fan of Saturday Night Fever and the soundtrack, a movie I wouldn't see in its entirety until many years later). I would also make more mix tapes of my favorite songs at the time, to feel those feels over and over, something I had already been doing for a couple of years.

When I heard it again recently, it got me thinking about the changes I went through back then, because our oldest daughter Beatrice is now 11 and entering the pre-dawn shadows of adolescence. She's not quite there yet, although there have been physical and psychological changes. But no hormonal crushes yet as far as we know.

The changes they are a-comin', though. Beatrice and her younger sister Bryce have been exposed more to older romantic love relationship themes through movies, games, music and friends; it's going to happen no matter how much we monitor it all. Plus, the self-awareness of these themes are now opening up like smelling delicious food for the first time that's never been tasted. Yet. Blech.

But that time will come, just like it did for us when we were young. There will be infatuation, obsession and heartbreak. There will be first loves, and seconds. There will be relationships pocked with imperfection. Until then, we're grateful that both our girls have healthy, loving relationships to emulate, like ours, their mom and dad. They see us hug and kiss and tell each other how much we love each other daily. They tease us and tell us to stop, that we're embarrassing them, but we know they love it because our love comforts them. They see our love played out in the little daily things of life, of cooking meals and doing dishes, of cleaning the house and paying bills, of planning day-to-day activities and the future. They see us joke with each other and laugh. And sometimes they see us disagree and even fight a little, and then work it out and compromise. Always a work in progress, we work daily on being self-aware and mindfully present for each other, our love and our children.

There will also be the soundtracks of their lives to remember all the feels. The girls now love music as much as we did at their ages, although they love pop music much more than rock and roll, much to my chagrin. But that's okay, because I've always liked a mix of all kinds of music, just like their mom does. They now have their own playlists on their own devices and make their own mixes with my help. They even record songs from device to device via the mic, asking us to be quiet when we're near their recording area. We tell them that we can help make the playlists on the computer and synch to their devices, just like we've already done many times, but they're having fun recording the old-school way. We did the same things when we were young, decades before the technology we have today. I've made plenty of mix tapes, mix CDs (which doesn't have the same ring as tapes) and playlists in my time, including the many I've made for my lovely wife. The girls will continue to make their own music mixes as well for themselves, and eventually for others, and others will make mixes for them. Sigh.

Listening to favorite old songs is just like looking at faded cherished photographs -- the visceral memories attached to each are forever bound to our hearts. We relive them through our ears of today, the past pleasures and the pain, one song at a time.

The Family Fandom

"He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine..."

–Rush, New World Man

"What's Dad's favorite band?"

From that question comes the attempted eye roll from Beatrice.

"We know, Dad. Rush. Ugh."

"Yes, Rush!"

At least Bryce sounds a little more enthusiastic for me when she says it. In fact, although they both prefer the pop music of today, Bryce is a little more of the rocker, bopping her head when I'm playing rock and roll in the car. Beatrice however makes me turn the channel immediately.

Yes, I'm that rockin' dad who ain't afraid to embarrass his kids with thrashing air drums and head bangin'. Wayne's World a-go-go.

But I wasn't always the Rush super fan. When I was a freshman in high school, Moving Pictures had just been released, probably the most iconic album from the rock band Rush, and they were coming to play Fresno, CA in early June of 1981. A friend at the time asked me if I wanted to go see them, and while I wasn't sure my parents would let me go, I was sure I didn't have the money, and at the time I just wasn't a fan. The song "Tom Sawyer" rocked and all, but I was still more into Boston, Journey, Kansas, Aerosmith, Kiss, Van Halen and other arena-rock bands at the time (music my dad couldn't stand). So, I said no thank you. I just wasn't a fan yet.

But of course, anyone who knows me (and who reads this blog with all the lyrics I quote in every other post), knows that all changed. The album after Moving Pictures, Signals from 1982, resonated with me, especially the first track "New World Man". And then after that, it was all over. I fell in love with their driving progressive rock music; their intelligent messages of independence, self-confidence, being your true self regardless what others think and celebrating differences and inclusion; their love of continuous learning and pushing themselves to new heights; plus, so much more (all things we celebrate in our family). That's when I became a big fan going forward as well as looking back to their early days (all the way back to 1974).

I was fortunate to see them many times over the years with some of my best friends until their final tour together in 2015, but never had the opportunity for a super-fan meet-and-greet. Or, never had that kind of cash to spend. More the latter actually. In fact, every time I watch the Time Stand Still super-fan-love documentary and hear fans saying they've seen them 100 times, 110 times, 120 times or more, I think to myself, Mercy me. That's super awesome.

Sigh. That's why one of this rockin' dad's bucket list items has been to meet the band, or at least one of the members. The drummer and writer, Neil Peart, has never been the meet-in-greet kind and prefers much more privacy than his other two bandmates, so that was never going to happen anyway. The guitar player, Alex Lifeson, and the bass and keyboard player, Geddy Lee, are the social members of the band and the ones who do the meet-in-greets and other events.

Which was why I was so excited when one of my work trips to Toronto aligned with Geddy Lee's book tour promoting his collection of electric basses (titled Big Beautiful Book of Bass). He was going to be interviewed on stage and then do a book signing.

Here it was -- my opportunity!

I included my global program manager who was with me on this particular work trip and we went to the interview and book signing outside of Toronto. After the onstage interview with Geddy was over, the host opened up questions to the audience.

Here is was -- another opportunity!

I asked him, "Besides initially playing guitar and then bass, what other instruments did you aspire to play over the years?"

I was so proud. I got to ask Geddy Lee a question!

"Well, I kind of fancy the piano and keyboards," he said.

The audience laughed. Ugh. In my head I had included keyboards, because of course I knew that, but didn't say it out loud. I was thinking of about my daughter and the fact that she had learned trombone and now wanted to learn how to play the flute.

"Duh," I said. "I knew that. I meant other than the keyboards, too."

"Hmmm," he thought. "I guess the violin."

"Excellent. Thank you," I said.

Was I embarrassed? A little, but who cares -- I got to ask Geddy Lee a friggin' question live and in person, so la dee da to you.

After the Q&A, we moved on row by row to the book signing. When my turn came, I made sure my global program manager had my iPhone camera ready to go.

Here it was -- my even bigger opportunity!

I fist-bumped Geddy and said, "I was the brilliant one who forgot to reference you played the keyboards, too."

"I know," he said, nodding. He smiled and laughed while he signed my booked.

The meeting was brief, but I didn't care. I got to meet Geddy Lee live and in person, so la dee da to you.

Check that one off the bucket list. My girls weren't impressed (unless it was Katy Perry or Taylor Swift I had met), but my wife was thrilled for me (and keeps buying me Rush stuff when I ask!).

And yet, besides all the musical and lyrical reasons why I'm a big Rush fan, another important reason I'm a fan, at least since we've had kids, is the fact that the band members are all husbands, fathers and friends. Intensely committed ones as well, something they've made crystal clear publicly over the years. Even with the all touring and traveling they did over the four decades they played together, their families were and are always the priority. When Neil lost his wife and daughter in the late 1990's, he wrote intimately about his grieving and healing in Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road, and how important his friends and family relationships were to him. He's since remarried and had another young daughter.

It's this, the family fandom, that's now the most inspiring part of why I'm a lifelong fan of Rush and why I'm such a proud father of the #BhivePower.

Happy Father's Day, my family!

The Act with the Artist

"Poets, priests and politicians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no-one's jamming their transmission..."

-The Police, De Do Do Do De Da Da Da

The tape recorder had a single speaker with monophonic sound. That's all we had, but it worked. My sister and I rode in the back of the truck, a camper shell around us, and we played Michael Jackson's Off the Wall cassette over and over again while our parents drove us to the coast for summer vacation the summer of 1980. The album had been released the year before and it was one of our mom's favorites, too. Growing up she had given us our love of music, from rock and roll to soul and rhythm and blues to pop and more.

So many fond memories throughout my life related to music. And many not-so-fond either. Music that's inextricably linked to our living, reminding us again and again of where we've been, what we've seen, what we've done -- and what we hoped for and still do.

Then came the allegations in the early 1990's that Michael Jackson sexual abused children. The news sadden me then, and yet I continued to compartmentalize it from my memories of his music, even after growing up with sexual abuse myself.

Why would I stop listening? His musical talents have nothing to do with his fallibility and his alleged crimes. Right? I reconciled in my mind over time and never felt bad about listening to his songs again and again since. And yet, I would never fully forgive the man who abused me, never wanting to associate with any memory of him.

How many perpetrators have we had throughout history -- from painters to writers to musicians to politicians to religious and sports figures -- all of whose brilliance many still celebrate today?

But then my wife and I had children and every year they get older the above gets harder to reconcile. Because they're going to ask us -- why?

• Why do I keep listening to Michael after what we now know? (The same for those who keep listening to R. Kelly after what they now know.)
• Why do people still revere presidents who sexually harass and bully (note the plural here)?
• Why do people still go to church after priests and ministers sexually assault women and children?
• Why do I still watch football when the NFL goes light on players who commit domestic violence so they can keep playing to win (and make money)?

The list goes on and on. And even I bang my head against the wall with split indifference and well-meaning bias, trying desperately to understand the why of others and myself.

So, why do I still listen to Michael Jackson? My wife has decided she can't do it anymore, and now I find myself removing his songs from playlists, even the playlist we made for Bryce when she was born (we did one for Beatrice when she was born and one for us when we got married, but Bryce's is the only one with a Michael Jackson song).

As I've written before, I didn't have any evidence when the sexual abuse happened to me, but my mantra is still clear and definitive: I believe survivors; I am a survivor. Yet, what I grapple with is how I and others compartmentalize some of these examples over others, and how we will answer these same questions from our children when they're older. Will I forgo any and all forgiveness for those who fail around me, especially when the complexity of failure crosses over into abuse and assault? Or will I continue forgive some without forgetting and without associating the act with the artist? Or is forgiveness ultimately a death that gives us life renewed without compromise?

They will ask us soon enough.

Play that Funky Music, My Girls

"Hi Daddy, I went to the music store."

"Right on, Honey."

Because Bea's kind of digging the violin, something I just learned while away this week. And so it begins...which would be fantastic if she really wants to learn how to play. Thank you Little Einsteins, because the Mama and me play rock, pop, classic disco, soul and R&B, baby. Sometimes cool kid music too, but never classical. Do the Star Wars soundtracks count? What about that funky Meco version?

No? Well, that's all right. There's a musicality in our B-hive that's upbeat, elevating and moves our hearts and souls; both Bea and Bryce bang on the life drum all day and those sounds meter my longing for home.

And that's why it's especially poignant when I miss it all, going from 0 to 60 mph this last month with work travel again, relegated to phone calls and FaceTime. But the sweeping crescendos are no less powerful when I hear:

"Love you, Daddy! Are you flying on an airplane?"

Yes, my sweet B's, I'm flying home for a jam session with you both and the Mama (and Nonna, too).

Play that funky music, my girls.

Brought to you by the word ap-py, the Journey medley on Glee and feeling funky

Oh, the joy!

Watching Bea smile and squeal and clap and wiggle dance on the couch while we all watched the Journey medley rock out on the season finale of Glee this week.

Lucky for Bea old school MTV plays 24/7 in Daddy's head -- a constant big ol' rock opera collective. And because both me and Mama love music so much, Beatrice is genetically bound to the beat. (And Mama can tell that Bryce is too as she rolls, bumps and grooves in the belly.)

These are moments that glisten in the sun while the earth underneath tickled softly as you lay still and the sky above morphed to your giddy liking of whatever.

Remember those?

It's like that. Feeling super fly in the back yard with your face soaking dirty wet.

Bea started saying the word happy this week, although she pronounces it "ap-py".

"Ap-py!"

"Ap-py!"

"Ap-py!"

*sigh*

But it won't always be this way. Life can be soaking dirty wet and falling down is inevitable.

Thankfully for my girls the funk has a double-back beat.

Now back to our regularly scheduled mind groove...

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk...

Daddy K finds some fun with kids’ musical instruments

Oh my, how much fun is this? A group called Plastica covered a classic Rush instrumental called YYZ (which Plastica lovingly calls YY Me). And it's all done with kids' musical instruments and a few bottles for good measure (get it, good measure?).

For fans, this was an amazing cover. For wannabe musicians and soon to be fathers, inspiring.

Enjoy.