Americana Amore

There seems to be a blossoming musical revival happening in the Twin Cities. It’s a resurgence of new musical styles and forms including Americana music. For me, it’s been sixty years from roughly 1964 to the present, for my music to come back. From a coffee shop in West Saint Paul to old Saint Anthony, there are a growing number of performance venues scattered across the Twin Cities.

Is Amore Coffee Shop in West Saint Paul the new West Bank for Americana music? What about the Finish Bistro in Saint Anthony? Could be. At one point, near the mid-seventies, many artists left the West Bank and migrated to NorthEast Minneapolis. Now there seems to be a shift taking place with that music moving to other spots in the Twin Cities. The variety of new musical styles is astounding and new venues seem to be opening up each year.

On a more personal level, I’ve always had a long-term romance with Americana music. Whether from the hills of Appalachia, the Mississippi Delta, Chicago blues, western swing, cowboy songs, or folk ballads, that style of music has grabbed my soul and interest. It began in college with the Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul and Mary and more authentic purveyors of that folk art like Bob Dylan.

‘Tangled Roots’ is one of my plays reflective of that interest. The play is really a folk concert

wrapped around a storyline under the banner of a play. A retiree, once a struggling folk singer,

wants to return to his song-writing and performing days in an era when folk music is no longer

popular. A mysterious woman might be the answer to help him along his way.

Now at the ripe age of eighty-something, I’ve taken the tentative steps of writing my own songs

for several of my plays. It will be trying to capture the mood of that era while safely ensconced

in my present-day life.

It won’t be a return to the West Bank and my quasi-hippie experiences there. Those were wrapped up in memories, real and imagined, in one of my first novels ‘Love in the AShau.’ Instead it will be exploring the song genre under the umbrella of a new play.

Song writing is hard. Lyric writing is even harder. It’s not just arranging words to fit the mood.

It goes far beyond what the ear can hear and the heart can feel. A good set of lyrics can capture

the imagination like few things in life can.

I was always enthralled by the ability of a song and its lyrics to carry me to another world, to

wrench my heart strings taunt and rip open emotions long left dormant in a sometimes cold and

uncaring world. Three minutes of sound that captured my imagination, fueled my dreams, and left

me breathless sometimes with their self-imposed imagery. I was always left wondering ‘how in

the hell were they (the songwriters) able to do that? Now I want to find out for myself.

I’m discovering a whole new batch of singer/songwriters appearing on the local musical scene.

Some are seemingly plucked right out of the folk tradition. Others bring a more current

sensibility to their performances. Either way, the message is the same as it has been for hundreds

of years. It’s a call from the open road, justice for all and the freedom to love when and where

and how one chooses.

It’s a message I’m trying to create with my own song book of my personal songs. Right now, it’s

just a roughhewn collection of song titles, lyrics, thoughts, and emotions coming from my heart

and meant for a receptive audience. If or when it gets completed, is anyone’s guess. It’s

journey I’m on as an artist and one I can’t get off of. Such is the life….

Following Familiar Footsteps

In this age of kids and their video games, vaping, multiple devices, and tons of other distractions from life, it’s nice to know that some parents see a better pathway for their offspring. For many youngsters, the pathway to maturity comes with blood, sweat and sometimes a few tears. It’s a competitive world, both against others and yourself. But it’s a world that teaches endurance, competence, confidence, loss, and unbelievable success (if only in one’s own mind.) The world of sports and exercise, both team and individual, is a great teacher of life skills.

For me personally, it began long before Brian and Melanie were born. I started running around age twenty-one and never stopped until forty-seven years later. Both kids grew up watching me run, ride, stumble, struggle, and plod along in various bike and foot races. Even the Mid-Winter Fest run in Apple Valley at 10 above zero wasn’t enough to hinder my running.

Soon enough, both kids were in road races themselves. In school, they were involved in track, gymnastics, and wrestling. It didn’t stop there.

Brian and I did the TRAM (The Ride Across Minnesota) which is a ride from the western border of Minnesota to the opposite eastern edge. In college, Brian got involved in intermural sports and Melanie began distance running on her own. In turn, they got their own children involved in various athletics very early on.

The first major competitive events were kid’s triathlons both in Minnesota and California. Pretty soon, that evolved into competitive swimming and skiing for the Colorado kids. They were doing black diamonds before the age of five.

Over time, all five of the grandchildren became involved in a plethora of sporting activities which included: Soccer, Gymnastics, Lacrosse, Hockey, Tennis, Skiing, Track, Rock-Climbing, Golf and probably a couple of others I missed.

Then, a couple of years ago, Brian and Melanie completed the Cactus to Clouds Mountain trek.

Also known as the Skyline Trail, Cactus to Clouds has the greatest elevation gain of any trail in the Continental United States. It climbs 8,000 feet in the first 12 miles from the desert floor to Long Valley, then joins with the main trail to gain another 2,600 feet to the summit of San Jacinto Mountain.

It took Brian and Melanie more than ten hours to completed the climb. I was exhausted just looking at their pictures.

Brian and Melanie have also done the Pikes Peak Run a couple of times. The Pikes Peak Ascent and Marathon is a trail running competition that begins at the base of Pikes Peak, in Manitou Springs, Colorado, and climbs over 7,815 feet to the top of the 14,115-foot peak.

Brian and several friends just completed the Kokopelli Relay Race in Utah. It’s described as:

‘The Kokopelli Relay is THE most challenging cycling relay in Utah! Cycling from Moab to St. George. Riding through ~530 miles of majestic beauty. It is a ride that invokes a sense of awe and appreciation for the incredible natural imagery that surrounds us.’ I think his photos of the trip say it all.

Then this September, Melanie and two friends completed a rim-to-rim hike of the Grand Canyon. The official web site tells it all:

“There’s no question about it, the rim-to-rim hike in Grand Canyon National Park is a classic bucket list adventure. But it’s no stroll through the park, that’s for sure. Being unprepared can have catastrophic results. However, when you’ve trained properly, have the right gear, and know what to expect, it can be one of the most memorable experiences of your life.”

• Recommended Route: North Kaibab Trail to Bright Angel Trail
• Length: 24 miles (one-way)
• Level: Strenuous
• Best Time to Go: May – October

So, what began for me so many years ago as a simple run around the block has morphed into three generations of pushing pedal to the metal, straining already aching bodies and feeling the deep, deep satisfaction of a run completed, trail hiked or exercise completed. From what I can see of my grandchildren’s enthusiasm for their chosen endeavors, I think it’s going to be a lifetime occurrence for them.

If you feel what I do in my heart about these endeavors, you get it. If you have to ask why; you wouldn’t understand…and I can’t explain it.

Separating the Masses from the Classes

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of class in our society. Primarily, I suppose, because we love to pretend it doesn’t exist in America to the extent that it does in other countries like England and India. Asian countries are no better in separating the masses into socio-economic-religious-ethnic categories which we all pretend don’t exist.

My grade school was one of the poorest Catholic schools in the city. It was an urban enclave of education in the midst of commercial/industrial downtown Saint Paul. The tiny four schoolroom building had a long history of serving the immigrant populations that lived along the Mississippi riverbank and in hovels behind the state capitol.

My high school was a little more subtle but not much. Even though it was an all-boys military school there were two very definitive educational tracks for the students to follow. There was the pre-college track and the non-college track and none the twain shall meet.

It was based on an assumption that our entrance exam scores, our neighborhoods of origin, and family backgrounds were a good indication of future success in life. Reflecting back on that classroom experience, I can see now how some of my Christian Brother and lay (always male) teachers were none too subtle in their attitude toward us non-college track pupils. It was never spoken out loud but the message was there none-the-less that higher education wasn’t going to be in our future.

College was much better in that we all pretty much came from middle classes lives and were in the same educational boat together. The teachers treated us with respect and an expectation of self-motivation. I ignored the classy cars in the parking lot and the hot babies those guys had wrapped around their arm at dances and lived in my own bubble. It worked for me.

Over the years, Sharon and I have carved out a comfortable life for ourselves. We’ve been blessed with two wonderful children and five fabulous grandchildren. We don’t have a lot of wants. What we have we have, what we don’t, we don’t. Fortunately, neither one of us has ever had expensive tastes in material things. That being said, I am still cognizant of how important the concept of class, success, and material goods are to so many. I was reminded of this during this last ‘Parade of Homes’ marketing push.

What used to be the ‘Parade of Homes’ has now morphed into the Artisan Home Tour. It should be called the rich people’s choice of where and how to live. Homebuilding is yet another subtle device for dividing neighborhoods into different social-economic (class) environments. Homes shown in the Artisan home tour are at the very top of the economic ladder.

The HGTV cable channel continues to program shows on its ‘House Hunters’ series that highlight couples seeking a new home that reflects their success in life. These homes have to scream ‘I’ve made it’ to anyone coming up the driveway. Their curb appeal, entrance area, impressive staircase going upstairs and master bath have to reflect a couple at the pinnacle of their material Everest.

While I understand this undercurrent of class segmentation has been around since the caveman, it came to light again recently when I read a fascinating book on the advent and growth of merchandizing in America and Europe before the turn of the century.

Growing up, I was heavily influenced by the ads of that period. It introduced me to a world far beyond my pocketbook but not my imagination. It was the sugar coating that flavored my reality with a taste of ‘what might be.’ In short, it was the age-old tale of the American Dream in portrait form in front of me.

Back in 2008, the near collapse of our world-wide financial system should have been a wakeup call for all Americans to pay more attention to their wallets and events happening around them. Unfortunately, not much seems to have changed over the ensuing years. Every day there are new financially-coated products, events, angles, schemes, and ‘can’t lose’ facades presented to the general public. Acceptance or rejection of these golden rings of opportunity often separate the masses. Some get it, others don’t.

To that end, financial literacy and media literacy are two vehicles that can separate the masses. Financial literacy is the ability to use one’s knowledge and skills to effectively manage financial resources, ideally for a lifetime of financial well-being.

Media literacy, on the other hand, is using common sense instead of letting some so-called journalists do it for you. A good definition can be found at Medialit.org. It reads as follows:

‘What is important to understand is that media literacy is not about "protecting" everyone from unwanted messages. Media literacy, therefore, is about helping folks become competent, critical, and literate in all media forms so that they control the interpretation of what they see or hear rather than letting the interpretation control them.

It simply comes down to that old, worn, yet so true cliché: Let the buyer beware. We all have the responsibility to listen and learn for ourselves instead of letting someone else do it for us. To use common sense instead of group-think and to forge our own path to enlightenment instead of following the crowd.

My own story of growing up poor has been chronicled in many blogs over the years. Again, it wasn’t something my friends and I were acutely aware of aside from the lack of a family car, no summer vacations, and few material things around the house. Most of us started working at an early age and accepted that as ‘par for the course.’

Sharon grew up doing chores at six years old on the farm. If the bulk tank wasn’t cleaned twice a day, her dad couldn’t sell his milk as grade A and there wouldn’t be a milk check at the end of the month. She remembers growing up with no sink in the kitchen but a shiny new bulk tank instead in the barn.

This idea of ‘rising above one’s raising’ is a central theme in one of my first novels ‘Love in the A Shau.’   There are certain advantages to being ‘born hungry’ as Daniel likes to say. I didn’t have a choice growing up but I’m not sure I would have changed a thing even if I could have. I’ve learned over the years that ‘growing up hungry’ is not a bad thing.

As nebulous as words like ambition, hunger, focus and striving might be, the simple fact is that nothing much has changed over the years. Yes, prices have gone up, some opportunities have disappeared and sometimes the future can be a dark and bleary horizon for a lot of folks. But the simple fact remains that a lot of the clichés we’ve heard over the years still ring true:

 Yes, these are all simple, sometimes simplistic but true clichés. Bottom line; it’s all up to you. We all begin as a part of the masses. The question is: where do we want to go from there?