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Wednesday, December 19, 2018

BARBARA ANN CLARK - PART TWO

Ok, this turned out to be a lot more difficult than I imagined.  I promised that part two on Barbara would be concerning her health as it worsened over the years.  I have been trying to write this for a week now.  I have written and then deleted several writings.  This took me out of my regular way of writing, which is to just write what is in my mind and let it flow.  I tried to be precise but at the same time convey the emotions and feelings that the two of us went through as we began down this road that would lead to surgeries and end with her passing.  I can't do both those styles.  I have decided to just write from my heart, use my emotions and throw in the visions of memories of Barbara as she put up a long fight to get well.  It hurts to write about this and may sound jumbled up and it might not even make sense.  What needs to be understood is that right now, after the last 5 months which involved losing not only Barbara, but my good friend Jim, his daughter Lori, my father and my Uncle Dale, this period of time has been extremely confusing, fast moving, and terribly sad.  I will do my best for you though.

Barbara had a heart murmur for as long as she could remember.  I think she just assumed she had it all of her life.  Maybe she did.  It was her aortic valve that had the mummer but it was a small one and the doctors were not really concerned about it. They kept an eye on it through the years and it just seemed to be a small problem that she would more than likely have throughout her life.  What brought us to July 23, 2018 was much more than a heart situation.  It was a combination of health issues that she had to deal with as the years ticked by.

So I guess we can say her health issues started with that pesky mummer. Other things about Barbara that would come into play as far as her health was that she was very small.  She stood all of 4ft-10in.  It wasn't only her height that was small but she had extremely small arteries.  When she was in her mid thirties, she developed type two diabetes.  She was very good at taking care of her diabetes.  She kept her diet under control and took all of her medications to keep the diabetes under control.  During this time she was a tiny bit obese but not bad at all.  She kept everything under control.  She was very active, keeping moving all the time and had a pretty healthy social life by way of the church and her high school classmates.  She took courses at local colleges and was very good at managing the office of the firm where she worked.  When Brett joined our family, she took off work to raise Brett, which kept her very active.  After Brett was in his teenage years, she returned to work and was able to work without any problem.

Around 2005 or so, her body started to change.  It was her back.  Her spine started to fuse together slowly.  As the spine hardened it began to curve forward, bending her over just slightly, not enough that you would really notice.  The fusing of the spine did start to cause her pain though and the pain continued to increase as the fusing of the spine progressed.  Eventually they tried to give her a shot for the pain thinking they could manage it that way, however the spine was so hardened and fused that they could not get a needle in to give her the shot.  They ruled out surgery for some reason but right now I can't remember the reasoning behind that.  She tried several things to try to loosen her back and ease the pain.  She joined an excersize club and that work for awhile but as the spine continued to deteriorate, it slowly became too difficult for her to continue.  She tried acupuncture at one point but that had no effect on the pain at all.  She eventually went to a massage therapist once or twice a week and that did seem to loosen the back just enough to relieve the pain just enough for her to continue on.  Eventually, the massage ceased to have an effect on the back as it steadily got worse.

Eventually her back had her hunched over to the point where she had to start using a cane to keep her balance.  The fusion of her spine continued up on into her neck and before long she could not raise her head, lower her head, or turn it from side to side.  Basically her entire spine was fused and hardened and unable to move. As the spine got worse, the pain increased.  She started using heat pads on her back and the heat would help ease the pain a little bit.  She finally got a TENS unit where I would place four electrodes on her lower back on either side of the spine and run the small electrical pulses through the muscle around her spine for about 15 minutes before bed when the pain was especially bad on certain days.  When she got to this point she could not walk very well at all and was using the cane constantly.

In 2011 or 2012, sometime during that period, she began having small chest pains and it was becoming more difficult for her to be active without becoming fatigued.  Her doctor referred her to a cardiologist and after taking some tests, they discovered that she had a couple of partially blocked arteries.  She went in the hospital and they inserted two stents to open up the arteries.  This was when it was discovered how small her arteries actually were.  The stents eased the chest pains a little but the fatigue was still an issue.  Her back and neck were totally fused by this time and she became pretty compromised.  It was about this time as well that her diabetes began to catch up with her and she began to retain water which caused her to gain weight which had an effect on her fatigue.

She continued to worsen over the next four years.  She never let on how much pain she was in or how tired she felt all the time.  When she was out in public, she always had a smile on her face and she was "pretty good".  I saw a different side though.  I saw her consistently getting less and less mobile.  I saw her ability to do things being stifled.  Soon we ended moving anything she might need down to a bout three feet off the floor.  The kitchen floor became her can goods shelf. In the bedroom, the bed, her desk, the top of the dresser became her closet.  I tried to be there as much as I could to get her things she couldn't reach.

Then in late 2015, after having some tests done, they diagnosed that her aortic valve was failing.  One of the leaves in the valve was disintegrating and her heart was not pushing enough blood through her heart to the rest of her body.  As the blood flow decreased, she began to show the effects of not enough blood to her brain.  It had minor effects but if you spent time with her, you could tell that she was having trouble with her memory.  The fatigue continued to increase and they finally told her she needed a valve replacement.  The date was set for January of 2016 to replace the valve.

We went and checked into the hospital early on that January day and she was taken to be prepped for surgery.  It was to be open heart surgery.  After hours of prepping her, they discovered she had a small infect in one of her fingers.  The surgery was called off and rescheduled until after her infection had been cleared up by antibiotics.  The next date was set for February, but after a week of testing to be sure she was healthy enough for surgery, her blood sugars stopped it.  The antibiotics had messed them up and so now it was a race to get her diabetes back under control.

Finally, March 6th of 2016 was set as the date for the surgery.  The day came and once again it was early morning when we arrived at St. Luke's.  She was taken in and prepped.  Things seemed to be going as planned.  They called me back to the prep room to spend some time with her before she went to surgery.  I watched as she was wheeled off into the operating room.  It wasn't long before a nurse came to me in the waiting room and informed me the surgeon wanted to see me.  She assured me that everything was ok.  The surgeon informed me that they had decided that the open heart option was too risky to take.  Her short stature and fused spine made it extremely difficult and dangerous to try to get to the heart through open heart surgery.  They had pulled her out of the operating room with out even making an incision.

However there was a new option that was brand new and you had to qualify to have it done.  It was called a TAVR, or trans aortic valve replacement.  This was just coming out of the testing stage and was being used as an option to those not able to have the open heart option.  It involved taking a pig valve, or tissue valve, through her groin and running it through her arteries to the heart where it would be placed inside the failing valve and then opened up sealing it in place and giving her a new valve.

They decided to keep her in the hospital for a week to be sure she was healthy enough to have the TAVR.  During this time they took her into surgery one afternoon to place a stent in an artery that was partially clogged.  After a week in the hospital the day finally arrived for her to get a new valve.

The surgery went very well.  They had to use the smallest size valve that there was because her arteries were so small, but it worked.  That evening, the surgeon came in to talk to her,  He informed her that they were going to try to get her up and walking the next day if they could.  Both of us were kind of doubtful if this would happen.  But the next afternoon, the nurses came in to see how well she could walk with the new valve.  All day long I was noticing how her coloring was better in her face.  She kept saying how she didn't feel very tired all day long.  She slowly got up and made her way to the hall.  The nurse handed the cane to her and told her to try to walk and see how she felt.  What happened next simply amazed me.  Barb took off walking at a brisk pace up the hallway.  The nurses were standing back with me watching but not for long.  They had to take off to stop her and turn her around back towards her room.  I stood there with what must have been a huge grin as I watched her power her way back up the hall.  Again the nurses had to catch up with her as she passed her room and stop her so she could get back and sit in the chair to rest.  She insisted she was okay but the nurses made her rest anyway.  She was amazed herself.  She had not felt this good in years.  No fatigue whatsoever.  She was still bent over with the fused spine but she had her cane and she could be mobile without any problems at all.  It truly was amazing.  She was out of the hospital and back home within three days of getting the new valve.

The timing was perfect.  A month or so after her surgery, I broke my leg while taking the dog out at night one evening.  I was helpless.  I ended up going in for surgery to put plates in my leg and was sidelined for several weeks.  She was healthy enough to help me through my own recovery.

The new valved held up for quite awhile after that but not long enough. through the year of 2017 and into 2018, she began to start feeling fatigued again.  The staff at St. Luke's were trying everything to think of to keep her going.  She did a trial study for new drugs that would treat her diabetes and at the same time keep her heart working.  She went through cardio-rehab for a second time and graduated.  She continued to try to walk up and down the street, but the distance she was able to walk became less and less.  The fatigue was coming back slowly but surely.

Wow.  Stopping to take a breath from writing and reread this discombobulation of words and I apologize for the poor writing.  Please be patient with me.  this is not an easy write so far.

You know, I think this enough writing for one post.  The tale of her last surgery may be long, or it could be short.  I am not sure how I will write it.  It definitely will be the hardest thing I ever wrote about her and I want to get it right.  So lets just finish it here for now knowing that her first valve was failing and it would take another surgery to replace it.  A very risky surgery.

Thank you for your patience with me on this.


Saturday, September 15, 2018

BARBARA ANN CLARK - PART ONE

I honestly do not know how to do this.  I think what you are going to get will be just random thoughts as they enter my head thinking about the last forty five years of knowing and sharing life with Barb.

All I know about Barb's childhood is what she told me which was not a lot.  What I did gather from her is that it was not an ideal childhood which is probably why she kept it mostly inside of her.  Barb's mother developed schizophrenia when Barb was young.  Because of this, her mother had several inpatient stays at mental facilities while Barb was growing up.  Her father, Harry, doing the best he could for his youngest daughter often had her stay at friends or relatives houses so he could work and Barb would be taken care of.  You are probably thinking, as I did, that this does not make for a stable childhood.  Apparently she was very good at making adjustments as needed and she turned out to be a pretty good woman.  I am not sure how old she was when the following event happened, I don't think she ever told me.  She did recall to me that one time she had come home from school to find her mother attempting suicide.  She immediately ran down the street to her Godmother's house and with her help, Barb was able to save her mother's life that day.  Many years later, after Barb and I had been married close to three years, her father came home from work to find his wife overdosed on pills and deceased.  Barb handled her mother's death as well as could be expected I suppose.  What the death of her mother did do was to bring her and her father closer together.  Harry and Barb were very close anyway, but this event solidified that bond and made it even stronger.  She adored her father and with good reason.  To me when I think of Harry Kissinger I think of a very strong and very caring man.  A great man that did the best he could for his girls.  When her father died, it was truly the first time I saw Barbara really crushed emotionally.  I did my best to support her during the time she was working through it but I am afraid I fell far short of what she needed.  She kept her dad alive in our house by framing his military patches and pictures in frames that were hung down the hallway between the living room and the bedrooms.  She came out of her childhood pretty good for the most part considering all she went through.  She came into adulthood a little cynical, very determined and very caring for those around her that needed help.  She fell in love with kids and that love grew more as she grew older.  I don't think I ever saw anyone just flat out love kids the way that Barbara did.

The ironic thing about Barb and her love for kids is that the two of us were not able to become pregnant and have a child.  After a few years of marriage, we agreed that we would try to have a child.  After a year or so, we started seeing fertility specialists.  We went through test after test, we tried this and that and eventually the experts told us that we could not bear children.  Once again I saw Barb just devastated.  She would see and hear young mothers complain about their children and think "why not me?"  She would hear pregnant women complain about the horrors and the pain it was to be pregnant and she would think "I will gladly trade places with you."  The biggest effect the situation had on her though was strengthening her opposition to abortion.  She was always against it, but this made her more vocal about it and resolved her opposition to it.  Her belief, and mine, was that there was no such thing as an unwanted child.  People were on waiting lists to have a chance to have a child.  However, she quickly pick herself up, dusted herself off and began to work with the Missouri Baptist Children's Home to see if we would be eligible to adopt a child.  Oh the paperwork that she went through during this quest.  It was all her.  I was okay at the time with adopting a child but I thought it would take forever to do so.  Barb was determined though.  She faithfully filled out the papers.  We went to parenting classes and to couples therapy to be sure we would be good parents.  Our finances were looked at.  Our neighbors were interviewed about us.  We had visits to look through our house to see how we lived.  Virtually every part of our life together was put under a microscope for two years.  We had to prove that we were capable of being good parents, which by the way brought out Barb's ire at girls having babies that could not care for them or even want them.  But we, we had to prove we were good enough to have a child.  Finally, one day we got a call from the Children's Home.  With the help of an inside source, they had decided that they had a little boy that was ready to be adopted and they had decided that we were the couple that should raise him as our own.  On December 22, 1982 Derrick Brett Clark came to live with us and became our son.  Barb's dogged determination had paid off.  It was the happiest I had ever seen her.  She loved Brett so very much and we raised him as our own and he was our own.  Job well done Barbara and thank you, thank my Uncle Melvin and mostly thank God for the gift of Brett.

The mention of Brett brings up another topic concerning Barbara.  Something that flooded the DNA of my family and was not even a blip in her DNA.  It was something called baseball. Barb was a football person.  Well, she was a Kansas City Chiefs person.  She didn't know about college football or college anything nor did she care.  It was Len Dawson, Buck Buchanan, Willie Lanier, Johnny Robinson, Otis Taylor, Fred Arbanas .... you know, the Chiefs.  As far as sports were concerned to Barbara, nothing mattered but the Chiefs.  She was aware of baseball and basketball and a few other sports, but that was about as far as her knowledge went.  Chiefs or nothing.  When we first started dating, she had never attended a baseball game.  She had never even seen one on television.  She did not have a clue as to what baseball was about.  Before we got Brett, I had taken her to more than a few Royal's games and she suffered through it.  One of the things my dad had us do every time we went to a ballgame was to buy a score card and keep score.  He figured it made us really pay attention to the game and to understand it better.  Barb would look at me in wonder as we entered the stadium and the first thing I would do would be to buy a scorecard.  She would just shake her head during the game as I kept score while she was trying to talk to me about something.  She did not have a clue as to what was going on in the field, what the rules were, or why I got excited during a game where the pitching dominated both teams and the bats were almost silent.  Then we got Brett and the day arrived early one spring when Brett was a little over two years old that I cam home with a Wiffle Ball set.  Now this wasn't the set with the big fat red bat and the softball size wiffle ball.  No, this was the skinny yellow bat and the baseball size wiffle.  I walked in and announced that I had made a purchase that I thought would carry us through many years (which it did).  She expressed her doubts about Brett being old enough for this silly game but I assured her he was just at the right age.  Over the next two summers and falls.... and let's face it spring and winters as well, I would take Brett out in the back yard and we would learn to hit.  Every once in a while I would look up at the kitchen window and see Barb staring outside watching, but as soon as I looked at her, she disappeared to continue fixing dinner.

Cable arrived in our house about the same time Brett did and I discovered the magic of Harry Carey.  He was the play by play for the Chicago Cubs and soon Barb was put through a summer of Royals games and Cubs games both.  Summers back then were very long for her I think.  But she knew that the teams were not going to leave our house and so Brett's wardrobe started to change little by little.  George Brett jerseys began to show up during the summer.  Little shirts that said "Cubbies" appeared and then a Cubs jersey.  Finally one Christmas she went all out and got Brett a Cubs batting helmet, Cubs bat and a Cubs baseball.  Then the ultimate test arrived for her as far as baseball was concerned.

I took Brett up to the local YMCA and signed him up for T-ball.  From that day forward, for the next fifteen years or so, baseball would become an integral part of Barb's life.  She enjoyed the T-ball years because after all it was just kids running around in circles.  As Brett grew older and he established himself as a very good second baseman who could hit, she began to take notice of what was happening on the field.  She began to learn the basics of baseball.  When Brett got into high school he played baseball for Bishop Hogan.  The fall out from playing for Bishop Hogan was that to keep the boys sharp and in playing condition, they would play in a second league along with the metro league.  Soon Barb was watching baseball four or five times a week.  Then came the two years when the boys played in a spring league, two summer leagues and a fall league.  In those last two years of Brett playing ball, Barb became hard core baseball.  She was washing uniforms every night of the week. (No son of HERS was going to show up in a dirty uniform).  She would be watching baseball in hundred degree heat, watching baseball until eleven at night sometimes, and during the fall be wrapped up in a coat, blankets and stocking cap to watch ball games.  She had become a baseball fanatic.  Her appreciation (love is too strong a word for baseball as far as she was concerned) for baseball grew and after Brett's playing days were over, she would watch the Royals and the Cubs with me and later watch Mizzou play baseball and softball when they arrived on cable.  Through all those years, she never ever missed a single game of Brett's.  She missed very few World Series games no matter who was playing in it, although she got extremely happy in 2015 and 2016 when the Royals won the Series and then the Cubs took it.  When the Royals had their big celebration at Union Station in the late winter, early spring of 2016 she was in the hospital preparing for her third heart surgery.  Her room looked out over the street where hundreds of Royals fans were making their way to the Station.  She was not able to get up and go to the window so I describe the parade of fans to her.  Then she watched the celebration on her television, then I had to go back to the window to describe the parade of fans returning to their cars.  Baseball had worked its way into her DNA.  It had taken over thirty years, but she had found what baseball was about.  However, through all those years, football still stayed number one in her sports heart.  It had expanded from just the Chiefs though to the Chiefs and Mizzou.  That would never change.

Somewhere along the line Barbara developed a fascination for sign language.  I honestly do not know where it came from but she must have had an experience or something with either a signer or a deaf person.  She took several classes at the community college, at Rockhurst and I think she even took one at the Kansas School for the Deaf.  At one time during this process she shared with me that one thing she would really like to do would be to work at the school for the deaf.  That never came to fruition but she did learn to sign very well.  She would watch television shows that had a signer in a little circle of the screen and watch, sign along with, and under her breath say the words she was signing.  Every time we went to the Kansas City Men's Chorus Christmas show her eyes would never leave the signer for the entire time.  One night, after the show, we were standing out in the middle of 14th Street with all of the other attendees and she saw the man with the long blonde hair who did the signing for the chorus.  He was about six foot three or so and Barb, of course, was four foot ten.  She walked up to him and looked up in the sky and started talking to him about signing, about her love for it and how she appreciated his ability to be so fluent and smooth in his signing.  They ended up talking for about fifteen minutes as he shared some of his experiences and she shared hers.  I got the feeling that this man really appreciated her coming up and engaging him about his craft.  Barb had that ability though.  Her smile broke through all barriers.  Her voice was soft and smooth and she was always capable of expressing her sincerity in what she was saying.  On the way back to my Uncle's house, she told Dan all about her talk with the gentleman.  Dan was fascinated with her talk about her talk with the signer.

Okay, let's go back to her love for kids for a second.   When Barb and I started dating, someone at the church brought up the possibility of a children's choir for the church.  Barb thought about it and decided that she would really enjoy that.  Since I played the piano, she talked to me about it.  Why don't the two of us start a children's choir in the church?  Well, if you know me at all, you know I don't like to play piano in front of people.  Never have.  But Barb was pretty convincing as she always was and so one summer Wednesday night we held our first choir practice.  There were about four or five kids but for Barb, that was plenty.  She found some old books that the youth choir use to use and we picked songs out to teach the kids.  After about a month, Barb asked if the kids could sing one Sunday night for the church.  They agreed and so on that night I sat at the piano in the sanctuary and five kids stood before the church and sang.  Barb was so very proud of the kids.  She immediately began thinking ahead towards the Christmas season when the kids would perform again.  By the time Christmas rolled around, Barb had a choir of almost fifteen kids and she taught them well.  She had them express themselves in song.  For example if a song had the word "shout" as part of the lyrics, Barb would have the kids actually shout out the word "shout".  I was so proud of her and what she had accomplished.  She carried on the children's choir until we got married and joined a different church.

In the new church, it was the same situation.  No children's choir.  It didn't take Barb long to get the ball rolling to create one.  She again worked her magic with the kids and soon had a fairly large choir.  It was during this time at the new church that Barb began one of her personal traditions.  She would teach the kids to sign a song as they sang.  Most of the time she did this during the Christmas season.  I have seen her teach kids to sign "Away in a Manger"  "Silent Night"  "Jesus Loves Me" among many others.  The parents loved it that their kids were learning something like sign language and the choir continued to grow.

When we started attending another church, we discovered that the pastor at the church was a member of her original children's choir so many years before.  He still remembered some the songs she had taught those kids and asked her to start a choir at his church.  Barbara jumped at the chance and so once again she started from scratch and built a choir that would sign at least one song a year.  Eventually she bought a set of kids hand bells and taught the kids to do songs with them.  When it came to kids, Barb was always looking for something to enhance their experience in her choir.  I do believe it was one of the biggest joys she had in her life.  Eventually her health deteriorated to the point where she was not up to the task and she reluctantly retired from the children's choir job.  She did love it though.  When she was directing those kids in front of the church, she would have a smile on and her eyes would twinkle and she would sing along with them.

Family.  Barbara always considered the family to be very important.  I don't just mean Brett and myself but the FAMILY.  The uncles, the aunts, the cousins, sisters and brothers and nephews and nieces.. People who weren't technically a part of the family were considered family to Barb.  A good example of this is my eldest sister's best friend since childhood.  Barb always saw Karen as another sister and her daughter, Ginny, as one of her nieces.  She would spend literally hours talking to my aunts and uncles as well as hers.  Her cousins on both her side and my side were more like brothers and sisters than cousins.  She would be so proud of her nephews and nieces and make sure they knew that she was.  And when those nephews and nieces had kids of their own, she loved them as much as she had their parents and were proud of them as well.  Probably the most important link between Barb and my family though were my grandparents.  She loved them so very much and always was concerned with how they were doing.  She held back tears when each of them passed.

As time went by, members of the family began to age and pass away.  It was during this time that Barb  showed how she felt about her Clark and Hill families.  My uncle Dan had been surviving with AIDS for decades but one day we got news that brought everyone together tightly.  Uncle Dan had been diagnosed with lung cancer and it did not look good.

Through the years Barb and Dan had grown to be very close.  When Dan was diagnosed,  Barb and myself ran point to organize the care of Dan as members of the family came into town to help, friends from Seattle came into town to help take care of Dan but Barb was always on watch with me to look over Dan.  Dan fought for a while very hard and Barb was there to encourage him on.  Barb gave me tremendous support during this time.  Many times my uncle and I would be up late into the night, early morning talking about things and Barb was there most of the time.  She was asleep, but she was there.  She always fell asleep in what became one of her favorite chairs and we would chuckle when we found her asleep so many times.  When we put Dan in hospice, I was there 24/7 as I promised my uncle i would be.  Barb spent almost that much time there to help however she could.  The night that Dan passed, i had fallen asleep on the couch in Dan's room.  Barb came over and shook me awake and told me it was time.  I looked at her confused and she repeated that it was time and shortly thereafter, my uncle passed away.  A few weeks before he passed, Dan had told Barb that she could have her chair that she spent so many hours sleeping in.  That chair became Barb's chair in our house and the place where she spent most of her time as her health got worse.

When my sister Carol came up one summer to help me take care of mom and dad, Barb was herself  well on the way toward poor health.  Carol was diagnosed with cancer that summer and along with Karen, we got her well enough to get back to Georgia.  Barb wanted to help out so much but just wasn't able to.

Before I wrap up this part of writing about Barb, I have thought of a couple of events that made her laugh and brought smiles to both of us.

She was taking a deposit to the bank for her office one day and found herself in line behind one of her heroes, a man named Len Dawson.  Dawson finished his transaction and she watched him walk away.  When she got to the counter, she asked the young teller if that was Len Dawson.  The young man looked at Dawson's receipt and said "Yes it was.  Do you know Mr. Dawson?"  Barb was floored.  LEN DAWSON.  This kid did not have a clue.  When she got home that night she told me the story with a lot of emotion and voice inflections and wonderment.  Then in describing the young teller she did what she did so often in describing young adults... "B-A-B-Y" ... and she would smile.

We had spent over a year with nightmarish neighbors on our south side.  It is too much to go into detail here, but it was horrible.  It was so bad the whole neighborhood were hassling the landlord on a daily basis to get them evicted.  When those people finally moved out and a new for rent sign was put up in the yard, Jim from across the street marched over, picked up the sign and threw it into the back yard.  After a few weeks a couple came over to look at that house.  When Charlene and Robert moved in, both Barb and myself would greet them every time we saw them.  We were both OVER nice to them.  Barb would go over and talk to Charlene constantly.  Then one Saturday when Barb got home from one of her talks with the new neighbors, she sat down and smiled as she said "you know, those people probably think we are totally NUTS!"  and she laughed thinking out loud that they would probably move out to get away from US.

I could write forever about life with Barb.  I have forty-five years to look back upon.  That is a lot of memories.  The purpose of part one was to try my best to let you know who Barb was.  How she was.  What was important to her and how she handled things.  We had rough times during our time together for sure.  We went through some rough times.  But when you take the over all story of Barb and her life, she was a very good person, certainly too good for me.

The next part will deal with her health issues and how they effected her both physically and emotionally.  I will try to get that written soon.

Thank you for reading this and allowing me to show how I saw Barb over the course of our time together.

Sunday, May 6, 2018

VERNA P. HILL - GRANDMA

Today is my Grandma Hill's birthday.  For the occasion I was going to re-post the blog entry I wrote about her.  I did a quick search on the blog to find the entry and to my total surprize it did not show up.  I scrolled through the blog entries to find it and did not find a blog entry for her.  I felt bad.  I have written numerous stories about my Grandma Clark, my Grandpa Hill, all my Uncles and Aunts that have passed away but not one entry about my Grandma Hill.  I have 472 entries in the blog yet she is missing.

Then I noticed something.  When I did my search on the blog for her, I came up with around 20 results.  The results were entries about my Grandpa, my aunts and uncles and stories of growing up and visiting the Frisco yard.

Here is the thing.  I had written all these different stories about life in the Hill family and grandma was always there.  Her life was involved in everything.  She was the rock in the family.  She was the one that people came to.  She was the one that led us all in the right direction, even her husband.

Here is my Grandma Hill in a nutshell.

She was wise but meek.  She was strict but gentle.  She held everyone to the rules but had forgiveness.  She welcomed strangers into her house and cared for them even though she could see they brought their problems on themselves.  She lived a clean life but nursed the sick in her home.  She would give hobos who were hungry and penniless food if they stopped by.  She kept my grandfather in line while being a dutiful wife and talking problems over with him before he made a decision.  She never hated, but loved and people loved her in return.

Here is one story that pretty much defines Grandma.  I was sitting with her at Grandpa's funeral visitation.  She looked over her shoulder and saw a broken old man making his way up the aisle.

"Good gracious" she said with a slight sigh.  "That is so and so (I don't remember the name of the man)"

"Who is he?" I asked with a very curious tone in my voice.

Here was her answer.  "He worked at the Frisco with your grandpa.  He was a drunk.  He use to get drunk all the time and your grandpa would bring him home at times.  We fed him and gave him coffee to sober him up.  Sometimes he would sleep on the couch.  Your grandpa didn't think a man should go home to his wife in that shape so he took the chore on to sober him up and then take him home."  She was watching him the whole time as he went and paid his respects to my grandfather lying in the casket.  He then turned and came over to Grandma.  She was so nice and sincere as she talked to him and thanked him for coming that night.  The man relayed his thoughts on what a great man he thought my grandpa was and then thanked grandma for all of her help.  He held both of them in very high esteem.  After he left, grandma had a smile on her face.  All those years ago she had helped grandpa keep this man's life in line as much as they could, and she knew it was the right thing to do.

I know this is short and there is so much to write about her.  But then I think, I have written SO much about her in this blog.   Her life is here in so many examples of what a wonderful beautiful caring and loving person she was.

This is for her.  This is for her children and grandchildren and all of those people she showed Christian love to.

She was a great woman who had a huge influence on not only me, but so very many people.

I love you Grandma and I miss you terribly.  Thank you for all the life lessons you taught me.

Friday, April 27, 2018

MURDER MYSTERY IN MY YARD

THE FOLLOWING IS MORE A LESS A TRUE STORY.  NONE OF THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED BECAUSE THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE.

The last thing I do before I go to bed at night is to take my constant and best companion, Dutch, out in the front yard with me so that he can take care of any unfinished business while I grab a smoke.  Ordinarily it is an uneventful time for the two of us.  Dutch weighs in at about sixty pounds and is strong enough that I have to be on alert when we go out.  If Dutch spies a stray cat or the occasional possum, he has a tendency to lunge toward the night stalker and I must be prepared.  One night a couple of years ago I was not being very vigilant when Dutch spotted one of those night creepers.  He lunged and pulled me over.  My right foot was planted firmly though and my leg snapped in half.  After Dutch realized what had happened he dragged me up to the front porch so I could seek aid.

On this night however I was being vigilant and at the ready for such a sudden pull so that when it did come, I was ready.  Dutch pulled forward and started barking.  I looked down the street to see what was catching his sharp eyes.  I saw nothing.  He continued to pull and bark and no matter how much I tried to calm him down he would not give it up continuing to pull and to bark until I finally saw what I thought he was after.

It was a very dark spot in the middle of the yard.  I squinted my eyes trying to make out what it was but could not figure it out.  I did notice it wasn't moving and seeing how Dutch was so set on the figure I thought I should try to see what it was.  I took Dutch back into the house where he went over to the window to observe what I was doing. As I approached the dark spot I started to notice it had shape and depth to it.  As I circled around I finally came to the proper conclusion.  It was a midnight black cat and it appeared to be dead.  I started looking around for any indication of how this victim had ended up in my front yard.  I did not find any clues but it was dark that night as clouds were hiding the moon and the light it usually reflects.  I decided I would wait until the morning and do an investigation then.

When I awoke the next morning, I found it to be gray, cold and cloudy with a slight chance of snow.  A perfect day to investigate the heinous crime that had left a victim in my front yard.  I donned my Eddie Bower sweatshirt jacket with a hoodie and headed out to the crime scene.  When I got to the unfortunate one I discovered that I had been right the night before.  It was a totally black cat laying on its side and it was indeed dead.  I made this observation by taking note that it had not moved since Dutch had discovered it the night before.  I pulled my Pentel .05mm mechanical pencil and my note pad out of my pocket and began taking notes.  The cat's head was facing the street and its four paws were pointing to the south.  I looked over the cats body as it lay there and I did not see any wounds or blood at all.  That was curious.  Perhaps I would find more clues on the underside of the cat.

I had seen a pesky raccoon on the roof of one of my neighbor's house a few days before and it crossed my mind that the cat could have died from a rabies infection.  I decided it would probably be best for me not to actually touch the cat so I went into my garage and retrieved one of my forensic tools that I keep for just such an occasion.

I brought my snow shovel out and walked calmly over to the cat.  I slip the blade of the shovel under the cat and lifted it up a bit until its body slid completely onto the blade.  I stepped on the handle of the instrument in order to lift the blade up out of the grass giving me a better look at the body that lie before me.  I took notes of my observations as I tried to find clues.  I estimated the cat to weigh approximately eight to ten pounds.  It was totally black with not one white spot showing.  This, I knew, would have to be taken into account while I looked for blood.  I studied the fur of the unfortunate soul and did not find any wet spots indicating that there was not any blood that I could detect.

As I continued to take notes on my little pad thinking that no detail was too small to be noted, I felt like I was being watched.  I squatted down pretending to take a closer look at the cat and started to slyly take glances around.  I look at my own house and, as expected, saw Dutch's eye peering over the bottom of the window watching every move I made.  I glanced over to Lori's house and saw a space in the blinds that revealed her two eye watching intently.  I glanced across the street and saw the big figure of Chuck standing in his kitchen in the back side of his house watching though his front window from there.  I quickly turned my head to the house on the south side and saw the front door close quickly but quietly.  Yes, the neighbors were watching the investigation with a lot of interest.  Maybe a little too much interest.  I did not have time just yet to worry about the neighbors, I needed to wrap up my observations.

I checked the cats face.  The eyes were closed, shut tight.  The mouth showed what I thought could be construed as a painful look, halfway open with its sharp little teeth barely visible.  I checked the front legs and paws of the cat and did not find any defensive wounds at all.  I must be missing something.  I started replaying episodes of Law and Order along with Blue Bloods trying to bring to mind anything I may be missing in the investigation.  I could not think of anything I was overlooking.

I stood up and looked over my notes, flipping through the fifteen or so pages that I had written down.  It didn't make sense.  I stood and looked over the cat one more time, checked my notes and then went to get the body bag for the cat.  I went to the garage and came out with a thirty gallon garbage sack that on this day would serve as the body bag.  I picked up the shovel and placed the cat into the bag, tying it off at the top to secure any evidence I may have missed in case I think of something later on in the investigation.  I carried the bag to the north side of the house and gently tossed it up against the house then stood studying my notes more.  I had come to what I thought was the answer to what had brought the cat to its untimely demise.  It was the raccoon.  I walked it through my head.  I figured that the raccoon had snuck up on the cat one day, or night, last week and had scratched it or placed a small bite on the cat.  The cat had probably thought it was a tick or flea bite and shook it off without thinking anything of it.  The rabies poison had settled into the cats bloodstream and started doing its damage.  Yes, I would have to find the raccoon and bring it to justice by calling Kansas City Animal Control to arrest it and take it away.

About that time my neighbor on the north side came walking out.  Charlene is a beautiful elderly lady who keeps a sharp eye on what is happening in the neighborhood.  She made her way towards me with her hands on her hips as always.

"What's up?" she asked seriously.

"Well Charlene, Dutch found a dead cat in the front yard last night." and I proceeded to share my notes with her from the investigation.  She stared at me as I relayed the facts of the case in amazement.  I assume that she didn't realize my abilities as an investigator and so she was indeed stunned.  She lifted her hand and started waving it at me as if to signal me to stop so she could say something.

"Have you talked to Chuck about this?" she asked in total amazement that I had not interviewed any potential witnesses as of yet.

"Well, no, not yet.  You are the first witness I have talked to.  You are a witness I presume?  Did you see anything last night?"  I was firm in my questioning to let her know she should not try to put anything over on me.

"Well, no I personally did not see anything, but Chuck said he did."

"And what did Chuck have to tell you about this?"

"Well," Charlene began giving me a rather strange look, "Chuck said that a car had come down the street just as the cat was crossing and it hit the cat.  Car didn't stop I guess.  He said that he walked over to the cat to see if he could help it, but the cat hissed at him, so he walked away."  Charlene was still looking at me in wonderment at my ability to investigate.  I had obviously asked the right question.

Charlene pointed at my pad of notes and pointed at it without taking her eyes off of me.

"So, do you have a suspect yet?" she asked with a hint of a smile.  That smile told me she knew I did have an idea of who was responsible for the crime.

"I figure it was the raccoon."

"The, umm, raccoon?" Charlene repeated.

"Yes, the raccoon.  I saw it top of Sally's house the other day so he is out and about.  I think he did a sneak attack on the cat and poisoned him with rabies"  I said while using my hands to point to Sally's roof and then to the spot where the body had been found.

Charlene sighed before putting her hand over her mouth. "Well, you could be right on that one.  I am guessing the hiss of the cat points it that way?"

"That's the way I see it."  I looked over at Chuck's place to see him just exiting his house.  "Thanks Charlene.  Think I'll have a little talk with Chuck now."

Charlene turned and went back to her house shaking her head as I started to cross the street to talk to Chuck.

Chuck is a big guy.  He stands about six foot two and weighs in at about 270 I would guess and he is a talker.  Chuck loves to talk and doesn't seem to hear what others may be saying to him.  I waved at him.

"Hey Chuck, you got a second to answer a couple of questions?"

Chuck stopped and looked at me.  "Depends.  You got an extra smoke?"

"Really Chuck?  You need a smoke to answer a question or two?"

"I remember things better if I have a smoke." Chuck stated matter of factly.

"Okay, okay," I reached in my pocket and pulled out a smoke for him " Here you go, now I got just a couple of...."

"You got a light?" Chuck was looking at me holding out the cigarette.

"Geez Chuck.  You haven't bought that lighter yet?"

Chuck stared down at me. "I said ... Do.... you ... have... a LIGHT?" He was emphasizing his words by stabbing the cigarette in the air towards my face.

I reached back in my pocket and pulled out my light and handed it to him.  He lit the smoke and took a couple of puffs staring off into the cold sky.  He slowly lowered his head and looked at me.

"Okay, now what is it you want to know?"

"Well, it's about a cat me and Dutch found in the front yard last night.  I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it."

Chuck smiled and started pacing back and forth a couple of steps at a time.

"Sure I can tell you all about that.  You see it was last night, before you and that mutt came out like you always do.  What is that about anyway? No matter. Okay the cat.  I was out last night taking in some air and seeing if it was snowing yet when I seen this cat you see.  Now, I have never seen this cat around here before.  You know Lori over there has a black cat but it has a lot of white on it too but this cat, well this cat was solid black.  Blackest cat I ever seen.  Well, this cat is in my front yard you know and I don't really care if it is in my yard, but something about that black cat spooked me so I took a step towards it to shoo it off and it stopped and look at me then started to run across the street.  Just then, just as this cat was heading in the street this car come racing down the street and BAM! hit the cat.  Car didn't stop, didn't even slow down.  I reckon he didn't know he had hit the cat.  Well, that cat, he is laying out in the middle of the street and I could see it was still moving you know so I go out to see if I can help it at all.  Well, as soon as I get within five feet of that thing it started hissing at me.  I don't need no hissing cat at me and besides, hey have you seen that raccoon hanging around here? well I have and I figure maybe that cat got the rabies from the raccoon and that is why it was hissing at me, so I told myself I don't want to mess with a rabies filled hissing cat so I walked back over here.  I stood out here and watched it for awhile and it started to pull itself, well it was more of a crawl I guess but it started crawling over towards your place.  Got into your front yard and stopped.  I figured it was dead at that point or would be shortly, so I went back in the house.  Nothing I could do for it, you know.  It was in pretty bad shape, so I went back in the house."

I gave up trying to take notes on Chuck's account as to what had happened because I couldn't keep up with him.

"That answer your question?" Chuck asked.

"Yes sir, I believe it does.  Thanks Chuck."

"No problem," Chuck said as he went and got in his car.

I stood there and thought about Chucks version.  It pretty well matched up with what Charlene had said but then again, Charlene had gotten her facts from Chuck so you would expect their stories to match.  Chuck had mentioned the raccoon though while Charlene didn't seem to know about any raccoon in the area.  If Chuck's version was right, then you couldn't really blame the raccoon for the death since a car was the actual cause of death.

About that time Susan and Cory, who are my neighbors to the south came out of their house getting ready to go to breakfast.  I decided it was worth a shot to see if they had any more information.

"HEY SUSAN, CORY, YOU GOT SEC?" I yelled over to them.

"Sure,". Susan said, "What can we do for you?"

They are a young couple who are extremely nice.  They haven't lived there but a couple of weeks so this crime was their indoctrination to the neighborhood.

"Well, I am looking into the case of this dead cat Dutch found in the yard last night."I explained.

Susan lowered her eyes, "Oh yes, that cat.  It was awful.  It was so very sad." and she reached out and held her husbands hand.  "A car hit it last night.  I was just getting home when it happened."

Susan looked over at Cory who nodded his head to urge her on.

Susan sighed.  "The car didn't even stop.  It just kept on going.  So, so very sad." and Susan sniffled a bit.

I softened my voice as I continued to ask her questions knowing how upset she was.

"What happened after the car drove off?"

"Well, that man over there," she said pointing towards Chuck's house, "He came out to try to help the poor thing but I guess the cat was in a lot of pain."  She stopped and thought for a second.  "I think it was in pain because it hissed at that man and he was just trying to help.  Then the poor thing crawled over into your yard and...."

Susan broke down and sobbed.  Cory put his arm around Susan's shoulders and whispered "and it died there, in your yard."

"Thanks.  I appreciate your help" I said as I watched Cory lead Susan to the car and gently help her in before shutting the door.

I sat on the front porch and looked over my notes.  I reran the witness interviews in my head.  It seemed that they all pretty much coincided.  I was convinced it was that filthy raccoon but in the end, I could not pin it on him.  Sure, the raccoon may have poisoned the cat, that was a definite possibility but it wasn't the rabies poison that killed the cat.  No it was a speeding out of control car.

I went in and typed up a report spelling out my conclusion on the murder in my front yard on my computer.  I proof read it correcting any mistakes I happened to find.  I sent the report to the printer and printed it out in nice bold type.  After placing the official report in a folder, I tucked it under my arm and walked out to my car.

About that time Charlene came striding out of her house.

"Where you headed?" she asked excitingly.  Charlene didn't drive so I thought she needed a ride somewhere.

I held up the report in my hand and said, "Taking this report I typed up on the murder to the police station.  They probably can use all the help they can get."

Charlene's eyes lit up and a small smile crossed her lips.  "I was hoping ... I mean thought you might be going up there.  Mind if I ride along?  I would love to see them express their appreciation to you."

"Sure, hop in. It will be nice to have some company going up there."

She got in the car quickly and fastened her seat belt. "Okay, let's go" she said with a touch of excitement in her voice.

So Charlene and myself headed to the station.  I had a feeling that the police would be very interested in this report and probably be very thankful to have such responsible citizens in the city trying to help them out.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

FIVE OVER LOOKED ALBUMS THAT ARE GREAT

A while back I did an entry that listed ten great studio albums that I feel should be in everyone's collection.  I have decided to return to the subject and this time list ten albums that are mainly over looked in artists libraries.  Ground rules are simple: Greatest Hits albums are not allowed nor are live albums.  In the previous post, which included Carole King, Bruce Springsteen, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Willie Nelson, Miles Davis, The Allman Brothers Band and Chicago.  There was also one album that could be included on this list as well.  That one being Nicky Hopkins "The Tin Man Was A Dreamer"  However since it was included in the previous post, it will not be included here although it is a great album that nobody knows about.  You can read about the album on my "Great Music Installation" post.

So here are some great albums that are often over shadowed and over looked by music lovers everywhere.

CAT STEVENS - "CATCH BULL AT FOUR"
Like so many albums on this list, "Catch Bull At Four" is the casualty of the greatness of Cat Stevens other albums such as "Tea For The Tillerman", "Teaser And the Firecat" and "Buddah and the Chocolate Box" all of which were filled with great songs and hits.  This album has just two songs known to the casual Cat Stevens listener "Sitting" and "Can't Keep It In".  The album is for the most part quieter than his previous albums and let's face it, this album was up against some pretty stiff competition for the casual Cat Stevens listener.  It is more acoustic and the lyrics are a bit more complicated as Stevens was starting his journey to find spirituality for his life.  Still, this album holds up against those other three if it is given a chance.

DAVID BOWIE - "STATION TO STATION"
This album suffered much the same fate as "Catch Bull At Four" did.  Bowie had already amassed a fairly large following and had several songs hit the charts before this album was released.  There is only one song that is considered a vital part of his canon in "Golden Years".  The rest of the songs slipped between the cracks.  The first problem for this album was that there were only six songs on it.  "Golden Years" clocked in at 4:00 and was the only song that would fit the single release format.  All of the other songs range from 5:34 to 10:16.  Those other songs were great though.  The album follows the seventies Bowie formula music wise with each song a master to itself.  TVC-15, Station to Station, Stay and Wild Is The Wind are to Bowie fanatics must haves.  This album deserves a better placement than it gets in the Bowie Catalogue.  Give it a listen if you get the chance.

WARREN ZEVON - "WARREN ZEVON"
Long before "Werewolves Of London" became a standard classic rock song, Warren Zevon was sitting at home writing songs and working as a studio musician.  He met Jackson Browne and the two became very good friends.  One weekend Browne visited Zevon to listen to some songs that the piano player had written.  Browne was dutifully impressed and talked the record studios into recording a record with some of these early songs.  This album was the result.  Actually, almost all of Warren Zevon's career was over looked.  He only charted two songs with "Werewolves Of London" peaking at #21 and "A Certain Girl" hitting #57.  Even though his recordings were overlooked his songs weren't.  Other artists needing songs for their own albums were directed to some Zevon songs.  "Hasten Down The Wind", Poor Poor Pitiful Me" and "Carmelita" were all covered by several artists and became hits.  Zevon continued to record though and when "Werewolves Of London" finally made a splash his name became a little better known.  It was then that he became one of David Letterman's favorite guest musicians and Zevon sat in for Paul Schieffer  several time on Letterman's show.  This exposure brought more attention to Zevon and his later songs but this first album was loaded with what would became an integral part of his library.  Along with "Hasten Down The Wind" and Poor Poor Pitiful Me" were "The French Inhaler", "Mohammed's Radio", "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" and "Desperados Under The Eaves".  As Zevon was closing out his career due to cancer, his songs began to catch the attention of the music world and by the time he passed, he was considered one of rock's greatest composers and entertainers.  Although the album is still relatively unknown, the songs from it appear on his greatest hits packages and are well know as songs unto themselves, not songs from a certain album.  This album in hindsight is one of Zevon's greatest and deserves a listen.

THREE DOG NIGHT - "COMING DOWN YOUR WAY"
Anyone who knows me knows about my lifelong love affair with this band.  I truly do love all the music they produced.  After landing on the charts with three #1's, 11 top 20's and 20 consecutive top 40 hits, this album was released in 1975.  It would give Three Dog Night their 21st and final top 40 hit in the form of "Til The World Ends".  It was the year I graduated High School and so it seemed my public academic life and the life of Three Dog Night came to an end at the same time.  Coincidence?  I don't know ... maybe.  This album though is overlooked because it did just produce one single and it seemed like the music world in general was heading in a different direction than these guys.  This album though is classic Three Dog Night as it follows the formula of all of their previous albums.  It sounds like Three Dog Night and, to me anyway, it is one fantastic record.  This thing is loaded with songs that in an earlier point of the bands existence would have produced three singles easily.  After this album, Three Dog Night began to fall apart and they tried different sounds, and well, it all came crashing down.  For anyone who listened to and enjoyed Three Dog Night, this album is a must listen.  If anything it will help bring closure to the end of a great career by a great group.

 JOHN MAYALL - "NEW YEAR NEW BAND NEW COMPANY"
It is hard to fathom the number of albums John Mayall has released and so it is easy to see how a few of them could get lost in the shuffle.  This album was special though.  Mayall was, and still is, considered a master bluesman who brought up guitarists who he had discovered like Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor. Clapton would go on to form Cream and a solo career, Peter Green would co-found Fleetwood Mac and a solo career, and Mick Taylor who would join the Rolling Stones.  On this album though, Mayall took a chance and hung a HUGE left turn sliding a little bit away from the blues into a southern rock sound.  It was 1975 and the southern rock genre was hitting it big and Mayall wanted to give it a shot.  He put together a totally new band and included for the first time a female vocalist in Dee McKinnie.  When the record hit the shelves Mayall fans were stunned as they were expecting another great blues album and got southern rock instead.  The reviews were not good because it wasn't what was expected of the master but in hindsight, this album is a wonder.  It is a wonder that Mayall could take such a turn away from blues and still put out an incredible recording.  All of you Mayall blues fans out there ... give this thing a chance.  You may like it better than you think you will.

So there are five of many albums that are underrated or overlooked in my opinion.  Maybe you have a couple of your favorite albums that no one else seems to know about.  It is pretty easy to do.

Monday, April 16, 2018

SHOULD HAVE HAVE BEEN DOUBLE ALBUMS

This is a subject that has rolled around in my mind for a very long time.  Not often, but once in a great while, an artist or band put out two albums back to back that become a defining moment in time for the artist.  Every now and then two albums are released that are so good, close to masterpieces, that it is difficult to separate the two albums from each other.

Other than live albums, the first group to thrive on double albums was Chicago.  Their first three albums were double and they needed to be.  It was those three albums that threw Chicago into the forefront of rock in the late sixties and early seventies.  Chicago is often compared to Al Kooper's Blood Sweat and Tears because of the huge presence of horns giving their recordings a touch of jazz into the rock and roll.  Where Chicago and Blood Sweat and Tears part ways is that Chicago using the double album format were able to actually record jazz and introduce the rock and pop world to the world of jazz.  They still had their rock singles from those albums but when the listener purchased the album they were gifted with a mixture that no other bands were doing.  Their fourth album was a FOUR record set of live performances from those first three albums.  As Chicago was starting to prepare for the fifth album, Columbia Records made it known that Chicago was big enough now that the company was losing profits on the double album format and it seemed that casual Chicago fans were starting to think it a bit too much music to absorb and frankly, the public were starting to hesitate on dishing out the price for a double record from Chicago.  So Chicago made the fifth album their first single record.  The effect of this was a great album but at the expense of a lot of the jazz influence.  The album were all songs that would play on AM radio.  The public apparently was grateful that they could buy a cheaper single disc from the band instead of a jazz filled double record.  It changed the overall Chicago sound that would progress through time and Chicago was never the same band that they were during those first three albums.

I have always thought that an artist could stand to put out at least one double record once in a great while that would have created some absolutely awesome albums that would rocket up the charts.  This piece is about a few select set of albums that would fit together wonderfully as a double record set.  Some groups have done this as Bob Dylan did with "Blonde On Blonde", The Beatles "White Album", Elton John "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" and ELO did "Out Of The Blue" as very successful double records.

So let's start at the top.

The Beatles: "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver"
These two albums are special in The Beatles discography.  They seem to slowly divide the old Beatles sound with the new sound that would lead to the Sgt Pepper's album.  This was the beginning of the metamorphosis  of the Beatles when they began to experiment with different sounds and Harrison became more involved in creating the new sound.

Tracks for "Rubber Soul":
1. Drive My Car
2. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)
3. You Won't See Me
4. Nowhere Man
5. Think For Yourself
6. The Word
7. Michelle
8. What Goes On
9. Girl
10. I'm Looking Through You
11. In My Life
12. Wait
13. If I Needed Someone
14. Run For Your Life

Tracks for "Revolver":
1. Taxman
2. Eleanor Rigby
3. Love You To
4. Here, There And Everywhere
5. Yellow Submarine
6. She Said She Said
7. Good Day Sunshine
8. For No One
9. I Want To Tell You
10. Got To Get You Into My Life
11. Tomorrow Never Knows

Quite a line up of tunes and it ends with a very Sgt Pepper's sound in Tomorrow Never Knows.  These two albums, when played back to back, sounds seamless between the two records.

Bob Dylan: "Blood On The Tracks" and "Desire"
These two albums still have a little political content included but what ties these two albums together is not only the greatness of the songs between the two, but Dylan goes into full story telling mode.  They are entertaining because of this.  You are listening to not only songs, but stories and it began a new style for Dylan.

Tracks for "Blood On The Tracks":
1. Tangled Up In Blue
2. Simple Twist Of Fate
3. You're a Big Girl Now
4. Idiot Wind
5. You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go
6. Meet Me In The Morning
7. Lilly, Rosemary and The Jack Of Hearts
8. If You See Her Say Hello
9. Shelter From The Storm
10. Buckets Of Rain

Tracks for "Desire":
1. Hurricane
2. Isis
3. Mozambique
4. One More Cup Of Coffee
5. Oh Sister
6. Joey
7. Romance In Durango
8. Black Diamond Bay
9. Sara

Bob Seger "Night Moves" and "Stranger In Town":

These albums show Seger at his absolute best, his peak.  While he did do some great albums later, every song on these two albums are Seger classics.  Personally, I can not listen to one without wanting to listen to the other right after it.  You can shuffle all the songs on these two albums and it still sounds perfect, each song having the sound that it belongs on the album.  It was his live album released right before these two that brought him into the main stream of rock, but these two albums cemented his presence there.  While Seger would have a few more classic albums, none surpassed the quality of music that these two hold.

Tracks for "Night Moves":
1. Rock and Roll Never Forgets
2. Night Moves
3. The Fire Down Below
4. Sunburst
5. Sunspot Baby
6. Mainstreet
7. Come To Poppa
8. Ship Of Fools
9. Mary Lou

Tracks for "Stranger In Town":
1. Hollywood Nights
2. Still The Same
3. Old Time Rock and Roll
4. Till It Shines
5. Feel Like A Number
6. Ain't Got No Money
7. We've Got Tonight
8. Brave Strangers
9. The Famous Final Scene

Bad Company: "Bad Co" and "Straight Shooter"

Imagine a new band coming on to the scene.  The vocals sound familiar but you can't really place who it is until you see them.  That was the case with Bad Company.  Paul Rogers was in a band named "Free" who had one hit song "All Right Now" and people liked it.  They loved it.  But the band wasn't working out and Rogers wanted more freedom to do what he wanted to do and so he formed Bad Company.  The first album was a smash and by the end of their first tour as an opening act, fans were wondering why they weren't headlining.  Then within a year the second album "Straight Shooter" is released and it is, by most pundits, better than the first album and Bad Company's second tour had them as the headliners.  Every song on these two albums are instantly noticed as a Bad Company song and each one of these songs has fans asking "Why wasn't that a single?  These two albums go hand in hand with each other.  Bad Company would never again have a backlog of songs to release all at one time and the group would fade a little bit after these two albums.  If this had been a double record set, it could have been their first greatest hits album.

Tracks for "Bad Co":
1. Can't Get Enough
2. Rock Steady
3. Ready For Love
4. Don't Let Me Down
5. Bad Company
6. The Way I Choose
7. Movin' On
8. Seagull

Tracks for "Straight Shooter":
1. Good Lovin' Gone Bad
2. Feel Like Makin' Love
3. Weep No More
4. Shooting Star
5. Deal With The Preacher
6. Wild Fire Woman
7. Anna
8. Call On Me

Rod Stewart: "Every Picture Tells A Story" and "Never A Dull Moment"

Rod Stewart had already known some pretty good success with the group Faces with his pal Ronnie Wood before breaking out on his own.  He first few solo attempts were fairly good but overlooked as Stewart was still putting out Faces albums.  Then he decided to make a full break and focus on a solo project.  The result was the epic "Every Picture Tells A Story" which featured one of his best known songs "Maggie May"  The album is non-stop good with a different sound than the Faces had.  It is considered one of the greatest albums of all time and I still consider it so.  Within a year he did the follow up "Never A Dull Moment" which had some cover songs that Stewart breathed new life into.  The second of the two seemed to pick up where the first one left off.  In this case again, when put together, these two disc sound like they came off of the same album.  I think if Stewart had released these as a double disc would have really shot his solo career to a point where it would take a few more years to achieve.
 
Tracks for "Every Picture Tell A Story":
1. Every Picture Tells A Story
2. Seems Like A Long Time
3. That's All Right
4. Tomorrow Is A Long Time
5. Maggie May
6. Mandolin Wind
7. I'm Losing You
8. Reason To Believe

Tracks for "Never A Dull Moment":
1. True Blue
2. Lost Paraguayos
3. Mama You Been On My Mind
4. Italian Girls
5. Angel
6. Interludings
7. You Wear It Well
8. I'd Rather Go Blind
9. Twistin' The Night Away

Well I have some other ideas but they would not have worked out due to the circumstances surrounding the times.  I could see Elton John double up "Don't Shoot Me" with "Honky Chateau" but he already had "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" in the planning stages.  Eagles "On The Border" and  "One Of These Nights" would have been a classic double set, but then they would have been out of material waiting for Joe Walsh to come along.  In the seventies, when there were so many great rock albums coming out, the possibilities are infinite for possible double record sets.  These that I selected I feel would have really made a difference in the discography of the seventies.  They individual albums that seem to have a sibling type disc to go along as a double.

Next time you listen to one of your discs, think of one that truly is a companion disc and think what it would have been like if the two had been released simultaneously as a double record set.

This was a short and not too deep entry but one that I wanted to do just to put an idea out there.  Hope you enjoyed.

Monday, March 26, 2018

ONE WAS MISSING

Last week marked a big day in my immediate family's existence.  My dad celebrated his ninetieth birthday.  It was a miracle that he reached this point in life.  It was indeed a day for celebration.

The celebration was to be held in the small town of Camden, Alabama where my folks now live as my sister cares for them in the most unselfish and loving way.  Many people came to share in the celebration, mostly family and loved ones.  My little brother traveled from South Dakota.  My uncle came down from St. Louis.  My Aunt (Dad's sister) and my cousins came in from Colorado and Kansas. Dad had grandchildren and great grand children as well as great great grandchildren arrive from north Alabama and as far away as the other side of Atlanta, Georgia.  My Aunt and Uncle came down from Muscle Shoals, my niece and my nephew as well as myself traveled from Kansas City, Missouri.

The celebration started Thursday night when my little brother and myself arrived, continued into Friday night with the main party being held on Saturday.  It was a time of joy and happiness as we gathered for this special day.  Cards and well wishes were sent from family and loved ones from Kansas, Missouri, South Caroline, and Georgia.

As family connections were reunited and the talk among the throng ranged from topics as diverse as to the miracle that we have been allowed to have our dad with us all these years, to baseball, to spirited discussions between Tigers and Jayhawks.  It was crowded.  It was noisy.  It was happy and joyous.  It was  a day that I, and those that were there, will never forget.

As I took some time on Saturday and listened to all the different conversations going on, as I watched my dad look in wonderment at all the people that showed up, my mind began to wander a bit.

I noticed that my dad had morphed through the years.  He is quite a man, someone to be admired and respected, that is for sure.  He has changed though.  His knees are not what they once were.  He needs a walker to navigate his way around.  His mind is not quite as sharp as it once was in his younger days.  He forgets things easily and tires easily after short periods of time.  He still watches baseball constantly, but often he can't remember who he is watching play or what the score is.  He is getting old and his age is showing.

I noticed all of the people who had come.  Pictures were being taken with phones.  Dad was in the role that he had never really been comfortable with, that being the center of attention.  He seemed to be enjoying it though and he smiled a lot when people would come up to talk to him.  I know it was a long weekend for him, but he soldiered through it and actually, I think he really enjoyed it.

Later, when I was on my way home and stopping over in Dyersburg, Tennessee, I sat and looked at the pictures that were popping up on the internet of my dad's celebration.  I saw pictures of everyone.  I saw pictures of families who don't gather all together very often.   I saw a picture of Dad and mom with my sister, little brother and myself.  I stopped on that picture and paused to study it.

Mom and dad looked aged but alert and smiling.  My sister and brother and myself looked very good although you could see the signs of aging in our faces.  Five people that formed a family that was started in 1950 when mom and dad got married.  It didn't look right though.

You see, our little family grew up as six, not five.  My eldest sister, Carol, passed away just a little over two years before this grand celebration.  Carol was not there and I felt her absence deeply.  We all felt her absence.  Everyone of us wished that she were there.  There seemed to be a hole where Carol should have been.

Yes, it was a great celebration.  It was a celebration that was warranted.  It was indeed a joyous, happy and wonderful celebration and everyone of us were very aware of how lucky our lives have been to have been blessed with the presence of my father through all these years and none of us would trade it for the world.

Still, through all of the joy, all of the happiness and laughter, one was missing.  I can say, and I think I speak for all the family, that she was greatly missed by every one of us on that day.  I couldn't help but hear this small voice in my head saying "You should have been there Carol ... you would have enjoyed it so very much and would have completed the picture."

I love you Carol.  I miss you.
Front row: Dad's sister Aunt Velma, Dad and Mom  Second row: my brother Bob, myself and my sister Elaine
My sister Carol with her grand-daughter Haylee

Saturday, March 10, 2018

AS TIME GOES BY

I've been aware of the time going by
They say in the end it's the wink of an eye
When the morning light comes streaming in
You'll get up and do it again
Amen.


"The Pretender"  -Jackson Browne- 

A few weeks ago in a gastronomical clinic I lay on a gurney awaiting my turn to be taken into the procedure room for my colonoscopy.  I noticed the pattern on the curtains that protected my privacy, I listened to the chatter between the nurses on the other side of that curtain and I looked about the little room.  I looked down at my left wrist and noticed the plastic bracelet that had been placed there with all my information needed so they would know for sure who they were doing the procedure on, which is a pretty good idea I think.

I looked at and read all of the information that was contained on that band.  As I read who I was my eyes landed on the last line of text that was written there.  "Age: 61 years".  Maybe it was being by myself with nothing to distract me, I am not sure, but seeing that number "61" suddenly brought to my mind the question of where the time had gone.

I have always heard that as you age the time seems to go by faster and faster and seeing my age printed out brought it all home to me.  They are right, the time does start to fly by as you age.  When I was a boy it seemed like a decade between Christmas' and over the last few years it feels like there is only a month or two between each Christmas.  Time is flying by and nothing I can do will slow it down.

One summer day, I was working in the garden with my Grandpa Hill when he suddenly stopped and looked up into the sky with a far away look in his eye.  He was quiet for a few seconds before telling me that if he could choose anytime in which to live, he would choose the time in which he had lived.  During those seconds of gazing into the hot summer sky, I suppose he was looking back on his life, where he had been, what he had done and where life had taken him.  He went on to explain that his time here on earth had allowed him to see horse and buggy days turn into seeing a man walk on the moon.  He had gone from working on steam engines to diesel locomotives.  His main source of news had gone from newspapers and radio to television and on to not just television, but color television.  I have thought about that afternoon often over the years.  This July will mark the 110th anniversary of his birth.

As I lay there seeing my age in print, I thought of that day once again.  I wonder how old Grandpa was on that summer day.  I imagine he probably wasn't much older then than I am now.  Grandpa passed away at the age of 82 in July of 1990, twenty eight years ago.  He was only twenty one years older than I am now.  I think back to the day we laid him to rest on that hot July day.  I remember the thoughts that went through my mind as I contemplated a future without the old man to go visit at least once a week throughout the year.  I remember that day so very clear and as I think back on it, it does not seem like it has been even close to twenty eight years ago.  The first year without him seemed like forever but now, July first and July tenth come around so very quickly anymore and this July seems to be approaching much fast than last July did.

This weekend members of the family will gather in Alabama to celebrate my father's ninetieth birthday.  Ninety years.  For my dad to reach the age of ninety is almost a miracle.  No, it is a miracle.  To understand why I say this I encourage you to read my entry My Dad: A Special Life .  It is a long complicated story of which I have written a few times and so I won't go into the details here.  Suffice it to say that dad has lived around sixty years past what they thought he would.  Our sixty one years as father and son have, well let's say, had some rocky times, some very rocky times.  But as each of us has grown over the years and we notice the years going by, I think both of us have come to realize what a special relationship we do have together.  The times are not rocky any more, not at all these days.  I feel there is a mutual respect and love for one another that we had a little trouble expressing when I was younger.  That isn't to say we didn't have great times as well.  Over the last sixty one years, me and my dad have had more good times than bad.  Looking back over the years I can easily and honestly say there were many more good , if not great, times than rocky ones.

I remember a photograph that use to be in mom and dad's house.  I must have been about fourteen, maybe a little younger.  It was a picture of a baseball game taken at Jay Allard's ball fields.  A game was being played that I remember very well.  It was kind of a father/son game.  The picture shows me at bat in mid swing.  I was a fairly good hitter and the form that is depicted in this picture shows why.  Not to brag or anything, but I always thought my form shown in that picture looked like a young right handed George Brett or Carl Yastrzemski (I know... dreamer.  I can almost see my dad, Uncle Jim and Jay Allard rolling their eyes at this description of my swing).  Back foot planted solid, front foot stepping into the pitch and straight with the arms extended, the bat level and my head down looking at the ball.  Beautiful form.  Of course, I don't know if I actually hit the ball or totally missed it when that picture was taken.  The special part of that picture though is not the perfect swing of the bat by me, but rather squatting behind me, trusting me not to bash in his head with the bat, is my father.  He is also in perfect form, just as he had taught my little brother to do when he was catching.  Glove is stretched out towards the plate, the ungloved hand is fisted, and his head is tilted down a bit with his eye spot on the ball.  It was just a moment in time but as I look back all those years ago, what a special moment it was. A dad and his son, playing the great American game on a dusty dirty ball field in the middle of a pasture.

That picture was taken so many years ago.  If I was fourteen or so, dad would have been early forties.  Could it really have been forty five or fifty years ago that picture was taken?  It is times like that when you realize how fast time does go by.

So what have I learned as time continues to speed up?  Time is so very precious.  Time is wasted all too easily.  People I have loved for a lifetime are gone and all I have are memories of the time spent with them.  Grandparents, Uncles. Aunts, Siblings, Cousins, Nieces and Nephews are special people.  They are family and one of the most important commodities we have in our lives are our families. Friends, close friends are the same way.  Some friends are so close and you have spent so many years being friends that they are just as important as family.  They pass away eventually and once they are gone, you are out of time to let them know how important they are to you.  We shouldn't think that we have an eternity to let them know because although time is infinite, time in the form of life is very short and finite.

Time will go by fast.  That is a given.  The trick is to take advantage of that time.

Monday, February 19, 2018

ROSEANNE VS FERGIE

There once was a time, a long long time ago, when performers sang the national anthem as it was written and it was good.  Then we were forced to endure a couple of decades of these singers creating their own arrangements of The Star Spangled Banner that left the listener wondering if it was indeed the national anthem they were listening to.  It was horrible.

One of these performances stood out as worse than any other public performance of the song and it was sung with the original arrangement.  In July of 1990, Roseanne Barr performed the song before a Padres/Reds baseball game in San Diego.  Now, Roseanne is a comedian, not a singer.  She went out and more or less yelled the song with a bit of a tune to make it recognizable and upon finishing the song, she grabbed her crotch and then spit before walking off the field.

There have been a lot of bad performances of the song but Roseanne's became known as the absolutely worst ever and a case could be made for that opinion.  Here is what Roseanne's version sounded like on that day:


So for 28 years Roseanne bore the title of the worst national anthem singer of all time... that is, until yesterday.

Roseanne received some competition for the title at the NBA All-Star game.  Fergie, of Black Eyed Peas fame, brought back the old self arrangements of the song and brought the bar to a new high for the title.  As Fergie sang The Star Spangled Banner, you could see not only fans at the game, but the players themselves trying very hard not to break out in laughter.  See if you can keep from at least a little chuckle while listening to her performance:


To compare an example of a great performance of the national anthem, one has only to look a year after Roseanne butchered it.  It was the Super Bowl when the late Whitney Houston set the bar for one of the greatest public performances of the song of all time.  To many, it is the standard by which all other performances should be compared:


So I decided to try to decide which version was worse,  Roseanne or Fergie.  This was not an esay excersize to work through.   For one thing, I put my brain through listening to each version several times.

Let's take quick comparison of these two performances.  We can look at Roseanne and say "She is a comedian, not a singer" and we can look at Fergie and say the opposite "She is a singer, not a comedian."  That is all well and good but a strange thing happened.  When Roseanne, the comedian, sang the song the crowd let out a chorus of boos even before the crotch grap and spit.  When Fergie, the singer, was performing the work it took for everyone to not burst out in laughter was quite evident.  Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Roseanne was herself during her performance.  She did not arrange the song differently, but sang it more or less the way it was written (I use the word "sang" loosely here).  Fergie took all of her musical talent and ability to arrange the song to her liking and performed it intentionally to a horrible outcome.  She put a lot of theatrics into her performance in order to make it more dramatic? I suppose.

After the the performance was finished Roseanne grabbed her crotch and spit on the ground.  Fergie on the other hand shouted out "Let's play some basketball!!!"  Now we could take Roseanne's gestures as disrespectful to the anthem and to the country.  I choose not to.  Looking at the two performances, grabbing of the crotch and spitting are an integral part of baseball.  Next time you watch a baseball game, try to count how many times players spit and "adjust" their pants.  I promise you it is a lot.  So I choose to see Roseanne's gestures as her way of saying "Play Ball" which is far more American than the announcer at a basketball game saying "Let's play some basketball".  I don't think I have ever heard that at a basketball game but 99.999% of the time at a baseball game, the umpire or the announcer will say "PLAY BALL".

The booing of the crowd in San Diego makes me think that perhaps the fans were not taking Roseanne as a comedian doing a bit, but rather as someone who was trying to sing the anthem the way it was written and failed miserably.  However the laughter at Fergie's serious attempt at performing the song made the crowd see her as a musician making a fool of herself.

MY conclusion ... congratulations Roseanne,  you are no longer the worst performer ever to sing the Star Spangled Banner in a public forum.  You aren't Whitney Houston of course, but you sure aren't Fergie either.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

FIVE YEARS OF JOHN LENNON

John Lennon only lived on this earth for forty years.  During this forty years, a transition took place as to how John Lennon presented himself and his philosophy.

Lennon's life was very complicated.  As a child his father abandoned he and his mother Julia.  His mother turned the young boy over to the care of his Aunt Mimi.  He was extremely intelligent and talented.  He was an artist in all aspects.  He could draw, write prose, write music, play several instruments and had a mind that saw the world and came up with a philosophy that was his and his alone, as most philosophers do.

His professional music career began with a group called The Quarrymen which would later morph into what became one of the world's all time great pop bands, The Beatles. When The Beatles solidified into the final line up of Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Richard Starkey (Commonly known as Ringo Starr) John found his life turned upside down.  Sudden fame that towered over the fame of Elvis and Dylan forced his outward life into a mold that the public wanted The Beatles to be.  He was married and a father in real life but in public, John was expected to be seen as one of "the boys" single and fancy free.  This forcing of his personification would put a strain on his marriage to Cynthia and he would drift away from her as well as his son Julian.

It seemed that everything The Beatles put out went to the top.  They could not do anything wrong when it came to music.  He and McCartney collaborated on songs giving each credit for the majority of songs The Beatles released.  As the group grew through the years Lennon, McCartney and Harrison began to be able to get away from the simple love songs they had been writing and Lennon, McCartney and Harrison began to write songs with a deeper meaning incorporating their individual styles and messages into their music.  By the time their 1968 album was released, known as "The White Album" each of the three were writing songs that were easily picked out as to who wrote what.  While McCartney stayed mostly with his pop love songs, Lennon and Harrison began to write more songs that expressed their ideologies that they were beginning to form.

Just to be clear, this was and is my own personal take on John Lennon's philosophy that he was forming.  I have always admired and respected Lennon as a philosopher, just as I do most philosophers.  And just as I do most philosophers I did not agree with a lot of it.  Anyone who can form a complicated view of life and nature and be able to present it in a form that is understood gets my respect.  It is not an easy thing to do and something that I have tried but come up very lacking in that ability.

The first song of Lennon's that I think was an in your face philosophical statement was "Revolution".  It was here that Lennon showed pure genius with his words to get a point across.  I think this song was written, not as Lennon lecturing us, but as Lennon saw society lecturing him and others of his generation.    Here are the lyrics and perhaps you can see what he was doing with the words:

You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out

Don't you know it's gonna be
All right, all right, all right

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We're doing what we can
But if you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell is brother you have to wait

Don't you know it's gonna be
All right, all right, all right

You say you'll change the constitution
Well, you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution
Well, you know
You better free you mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow

Don't you know it's gonna be
All right, all right, all right

He continued to write songs as The Beatles slowly grew apart and eventually broke up. When they went their individual ways and began to record solo albums, Lennon was totally free to do and write whatever he wanted.  He did a biographical song called "Mother" in which he was able to express his disappointment with his childhood and lack of relationships with his mother and father.  He wrote about his religious views and his belief in only his wife, Yoko, and himself, called "God" telling the world that he doesn't' believe in Jesus, buddah, or any cult or religion.  He expressed his anti war sentiment in several songs before writing his most beloved song "Imagine".

This song musically is so very beautiful.  The words of the song, however, show his political thinking and that was one of communism/socialism.  The words are often taken out of context and quoted to make statements of people getting along, of humankind's desire of love for one another.  If you take the lyrics as a whole however, you see the true political philosophy of John Lennon.  No God, No Satan, no heaven or hell, a one world government, the idea that everything belongs to everyone, there are no individual possessions.  It is "Revolution" as written from Lennon's point of view instead of from the western philosophy of a republic or democracy.  Here are the lyrics taken as a whole:

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace, you

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people sharing all the world, you

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will be as one

In a live recording of this during a concert in Madison Square Garden, When he gets to "Imagine no possessions" he says under his breath "I try"  because let's face it, John Lennon had a LOT of possessions.  He owned a few mansions, lots of private land and was doing fairly well monetary wise. The song, to me, kind of like mostleaders in a socialistic system, where those at the top, those who condone the system the strongest, also live against everything the philosophy states.

Lennon continued writing and recording this type of philosophy until 1975 when he suddenly stopped recording and entered into private life in New York.  He and Yoko had a son, Sean, and Lennon retired from music to live the life of a father and husband.  After he had done to Cynthia and Julian much the same thing that his own parents had done to him, he had a chance to do things right and that was what he wanted to do. He became an average New Yorker. He could be found walking through Central Park with his son on his shoulders.  He never hid from people, but embraced them as friends, fellow New Yorkers.  There are clips of him stopping and just chatting with people in New York, not acting as though he were anything special.  I believe he was extremely sincere during this time of his life. He had become just an everyday normal man living his life while raising his family. For five years he lived this life, playing music in private but not releasing any new music to the public.  Music had become a hobby for him.

Then in 1980 after five years away from the music, he and Yoko released a new album titled "Double Fantasy".  This album showed a new Lennon.  It showed the family man, the loving husband and the father of a son he dearly loved.  The songs were of a more personal nature and more biographical than philosophical.  "Watching The Wheels" is a song on this album that somewhat explains what he had been doing for five years, where he had been and what he was about.  It was a mature Lennon that came out.  He may have still held onto his philosophy from the past, he he put it in a different place as far as importance was concerned.  He had a new perspective on what was important in life.

People say I'm crazy
Doing what I'm doing
Well, they give me all kinds of warnings
To save me from ruin
When I say that I'm okay, well they look at me kinda strange
"Surely, you're not happy now, you no longer play the game"

People say I'm lazy
Dreaming my life away
Well they give me all kinds of advice
Designed to enlighten me
When I tell them that I'm doing fine watching shadows on the wall
"Don't you miss the big time boy, you're no longer on the ball?"

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

Ah, people ask me questions
Lost in confusion
Well, I tell them there's no problem
Only solutions
Well, they shake their heads and they look at me, as if I've lost my mind
I tell them there's no hurry, I'm just sitting here doing time

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

Lennon had spent five years putting the things of life in what he thought were their proper perspective.  He had come out on the other side a more mature man and the respect that came with this release was much more than five years previous.  Sadly, this album brought Lennon back into the spotlight and he once again became a public figure.  The new mature John Lennon's 1980 statement on his view of life would lead to his death shortly after the album was released.

This is the Lennon I hope that the world will remember.  The ordinary family man finally happy with life and where it had taken him