Conversations with a Madman

He always seems to be mad at something, about something, against something, because of something. That ‘something’ can range from government action, inaction, the governor himself, politicians (unless they see it his way), taxes of any kind, liberals, young people, women, old people, minorities, immigrants….  And the list just goes on and on.

He always has excuses for Trump’s behavior and that of his fellow Republicans. Yet, if I asked him to define his version of conservatism, he probably couldn’t. In the history of modern American conservatism, there were three distinct waves of change. The first wave was best symbolized by William F. Buckley and Ronald Reagan. The second wave, by Paul Ryan and two Bush presidencies and the third, now best represented by the sometimes confusing, sometimes scary present party in power.

If I were a betting man, I’d say his philosophies run more along the lines of ‘I just heard it on Fox, so it has to be true.’ Like many of us programmed to believe the ads of the sixties, what he sees and hears, he believes. Political news on the radio that morning is gospel and can’t be challenged. Even my occasional ‘You’ve got to be fricken kidding me’ doesn’t seem to faze him or his firm belief that if they ‘said it on radio,’ it has to be true.

He doesn’t respect women and, in fact, seems to fear their intellect, power and agility in the face of stupidity. In other words, normal strengths given to the more powerful of the tribe. Any man who doesn’t see women as an equal missed that train a long time ago.

Photo courtesy of Bob Getterz

It was so much easier when we were all younger and the biggest argument centered around which radio station, KDWB or WDGY, was the best Rock and Roll station in town (the twin cities of Minnesota.) Oh, for those happy days again.

While my friend is ‘a piece of work’, we have actually found, somehow, common ground upon which to carry on some pretty interesting, stimulating and intelligent conversations. The key I discovered, right up front, was to respect his point of view even if he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about … from my point of view, of course.

Without apology, I willingly conceded that my ‘left wing crazies’ were just as off the charts as were his ‘right wing crazies.’ We agreed that term limits should have been placed on most if not all politicians starting with George Washington. We agreed that down through the ages both parties were guilty of any and every indiscretion, crime, unethical, and immoral action possible. We agreed that a good number of politicians’ only real focus is to get reelected which they, in turn, see as their sacred duty to their constituency. Most self-serving politicians speak out of both sides of their mouths, depending which way the political winds are blowing ‘that day.’

Having agreed on some of those basics, my ‘friend’ and I are actually able to find even more common ground in which to have calm, ‘mostly’ rational conversations. He plays the stock market every day and seems to understand value-investing. He studies trends, changing political winds, the economy and makes his decisions based on his own gut appraisal of the marketplace. And he seems to be doing pretty well at it. Of course, he is also an avid gambler and I suspect loses much more than he would care to admit.

Ninety-nine times out of ten, I find our conversations quite educational. I like to hear about stock market trends, emerging companies, particular stocks and the current take on the market from one who plays it on a daily basis. Just to catch a glimpse into his slant on things is fascinating for me as a writer and ever-present voyeur into other people’s lives.

I’ve told my friend that one of my greatest strengths is knowing and admitting that there is so much I don’t know about everything; the stock market in particular. The handlers of Sharon’s retirement account and the good folks at Ameriprise have placed us in stocks and bonds that fit our (not too) conservative approach to the market. It seems to work for us and I don’t lose sleep at night no matter what gyrations the market is going through on any given day. I can’t say the same for my friend.

I think that Noam Chomsky in his book: ‘Requiem for the American Dream’ is able to capture the essence of my friend’s grudge with the world. He says: “There’s unfocused anger going on in self-destructive directions.” He calls this phenomenon ‘generalized rage.’ “It’s most white, working-class, lower-middle-class people, who have been cast by the wayside during the neoliberalism period. Everything has been taken away from them (they feel). There is no economic growth for them, this is for other people. The institutions are all against them. They have a deep concern that they are losing their country because a ‘generalized they’ are taking it away from them.”

Interestingly enough, I meet several guys like that in the service, determined to save their country from the perceived threats within. While my friend and I have never directly addressed this particular slant on life, it certainly sounds like him from everything he’s said to me. I have several other acquaintances back home like the one here. Their political slant on life is so different from mine that only by finding slivers of commonality between us can we keep our conversations going.

One thing that struck me, right from the beginning, was the sincerity from which my friends claimed their knowledge and defense of their political views. It’s hard to argue with someone who feels that passionately about things. It calls for respect in the face of (my own) reality and the challenge of trying to see the argument in question from their point of view.

Yet, like so many other challenges in life, I see it as a win-win situation. If my friend is able to change my point of view, that’s great, I’ve learned something new that day. If not, then my own point of view (after calm, thorough examination) has been justified and reinforced. I win either way.

I hope I can say the same for my ‘friend.’

My Journey into Songwriting

As if I don’t have enough to do already? This idea of songwriting has been creeping into my brain for some time now. What was I thinking? There are movie scripts to hustle, plays that need a venue to perform at and a dozen other projects that are begging for my time and attention.

That being said, I’m finding myself spending more time delving into the always challenging, chaotic and usually frustrating exercise of putting words (called lyrics) into some kind of melodic form sans the rich coat of many sounds to accompany it. Talk about a new experience all together.

Reflecting back on a lifetime of skirting the edges of this stress-induced exercise, I’ve often tried to add music to a lot of my writing projects. Back when I was a younger man, I produced two travel documentaries of my children’s study abroad programs. Brian went around the world on his program and Melanie spent time in Ireland. I added musical numbers to both films; Irish music for Melanie’s travelogue and the ‘Smashing Pumpkins’ music for Brian's.

The first three plays I had produced at the Steeple Center in Rosemount had music as an integral part of their storyline.

‘Hair’ was the climatic song in ‘Riot at Sage Corner.’ It solidified the collective rioting of gray grannies and hopping old men against senior management. The actors really got into the swing of things and the audience loved it too.

For Club Two Ten, I had an accomplished singer songwriter write two original songs for the play. The songs best illustrated the still simmering feelings between old classmates. The songs were a welcome reprise for the scene and added to its depth and emotional clarity.

‘With a Little Help from My Friends’ was the theme song for my last play in Rosemount, ‘The Last Sentinel.’ It perfectly encapsulated the comradery felt by the three old women nearing the end of their stay on earth. It was a song-along that the audience really got into themselves.

In California, my award-winning play ‘Widow’s Waltz’ ended with a performance of ‘The Tennessee Waltz.’ It proved the perfect musical wrapping for my two actors finally accepting their relationship. ‘By the Salton Sea,’ is another play I’m shopping around the Coachella Valley. It has the old classic ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ as its climatic piece. ‘Tangled Roots’ is a musical concert wrapped around a storyline (a play) that is heavy on Americana music. Another play written around the same time, ‘Wake; the Musical’ has a number of song (lyrics only) that still need music added.

When both families gather in Palm Springs, we started a tradition of hosting a staged reading. Papa writes a new play each year and the children perform it for family, friends and neighbors. Over the last half dozen years or so, we’ve added music to the plays. Maya and Samantha choose the song and everyone sings along. It’s a group effort and their harmony is really quite good.

When I decided to add original music to my play ‘PTV’ I knew I would need to find an accomplished musician to help create the melody to accompany my song lyrics. I had asked my editor for some recommendations for songwriters she might know. She is into the musical scene in town and knew a lot of the players. After describing a number of them, their area of interest, expertise, and talent, I added one more caveat. I told her: “They can’t be assholes.” She didn’t know a one I’d want to work with.

Fortunately, another friend had meet someone in college who seemed to fit the bill. He was very talented, smart and a pleasure to work with. I gave him a call and it turned out to be the best call I ever made for that purpose.

When we first meet, I felt it was important to lay down some of the ground rules. My caveats were simple enough. I can’t read music and I’m not going to learn. I don’t play a musical instrument and I’m not going to learn how to. I can’t speak music language but I believe I can communicate what I’m feeling/thinking how the music should go/feel/accompany/add to the scene.

I told my friend that I was willing to learn anything and everything there was to know about composing a song….as long as it meets my criteria and reaches the conclusion, I felt it needed to communicate with my audience about the core message within. This was especially important for my PTV audience because each song had to emulate/continue/enhance/augment/and reinforce the emotions felt by my characters in that particular scene.

Lastly, I said that while I absolutely respected the talent and dedication of the musicians I would be working with, I also expected (no, demanded) that same respect toward me as the lyricist of the songs. If we couldn’t work together in mutual respect, then we couldn’t work together… period.

The results, I am happy to report, are nine original songs written just for ‘PTV.’ My musical collaborator, AJ Scheiber, was able to absolutely capture the mood of each scene, cloaking each with the musical intricacies of that time period. I couldn’t have been happier with the results.

The real test came when AJ took my lyrics, rewrote some of them to fit his melody and then agreed to let me tinker with particular words he had changed. In the end, it was his melody and my words (mostly) that accomplished what each song was meant to do.

Music is now an essential part of any new writing project of mine. My latest movie script ‘Rock the Tree of Life’ is about a country western singer-songwriter down on his luck. Part of my job is to write the lyrics for some of his new songs and then watch as my heroine Ariella, plays the role of co-writer for his new material.

Working with a couple of talented artists as they go about writing new songs is going to be a real challenge for me. Yet if I’m going to step into this new role of songwriter, I can’t think of a nicer couple to do it with.

So says my imagination.

Cousins

Several years ago, Sharon did the whole Ancestry thing. She was able to trace her lineage back to Germany in the mid-eighteenth century. She even found a picture (supposedly) of the clipper ship that her ancestors came over on. My own family tree began and ended abruptly in Canada with no ‘came from’ or ‘went to’ ancestral lines past that spot on the map.

My own mother’s reluctance to talk about her past (well documented in past blogs) left me with little tangible facts or rumors to go on. She had left her past history cold and unforgiving except for those rare moments of clarity or lapses of revelation when something from the past was revealed. So, what I had to go on was the fact that four women, all sisters, were born in Sterns County, Minnesota on a small farm just outside of the small hamlet of St. Martin.

The four sisters were part of a family of eight; four brothers, four sisters. Each with their own hopes, promises and secrets. Never really very close was the common thread between them. Their children, the cousins, followed suit and never established strong inter-family bonds. That lack of kinship is a sad yet realistic result of ‘family dynamics’ so common among many families.

I always had the impression that my mother was a lot closer to her dad than her mother. She spoke more often of her girlfriends growing up than time spent on the farm. All four sisters ended up getting married and settled in different neighborhoods of Saint Paul. Two ended up in Highland Park, one in the Como area and the fourth in East Saint Paul.

From those four sisters came eight children, all cousins with little in common and less time for making acquaintances. There were a few family gatherings but not enough to solidify a sense of community among the group. Family secrets were still there but kept hidden as per their rural German Catholic culture.

All of which leaves many unanswered questions and fewer answers. For a while one of the cousins, Dr. Ron Pizinger, began collecting information on the Noll family and its many mutations since leaving the farm. He held several extended family gatherings and produced some fascinating information about our elders sailing over from Germany and settling eventually in Sterns County. Unfortunately, his early unexpected demise left many unanswered questions that have never been addressed or resolved.

Since then, offspring from the four cousins continue to grow, abet far apart and seldom in communication with one another. Whatever bonds began with the four sisters at the turn of the century has long since dissipated and faded away with the years passed.

I’m guessing this is probably more normal than not. For generations to continue a bond of friendship and familiarity in this era of constant moving, evolving interests and social changes must be a monumental challenge. Old bonds grow weak, splinter, and fail. New interests supersede old ones and new directions are followed by some and ignored by others. Nothing remains as it was. Nothing stays the same.

And as the cliché says: Life goes on.

A Moment in Time

 I have a theory about creativity based on nothing more than casual observation, mild speculation, and curiosity. This whole idea of being able to create masterful works of art (in a myriad of different forms and genres) has always fascinated me since an early age. How did those artists, whom I admire so much, find that window of opportunity to create their art?

For each, there seemed to have been a ‘moment in time’ when they were at their most creative best. Granted, it’s a very personal observation but one that seems to repeat itself over and over again. Bob Dylan in the early 60s, the Beatles about the same time, CCR in the late 60’s and the list goes on and on.

Jazz begets Bo-Bop which led to ‘race music’ or early rock and roll. Do-Wop groups morphed into single pop artists or singing duos. Each seemed to have their small, brief time in the spotlight when their music shined brightly and captured the hearts and minds of millions like myself. But then as social norms and attitudes changed, the music moved on and became something else. Each seemed to have its own brief time in the sunlight (read spotlight) before something else took its place.

A closer examination in the book ‘The Song Machine’ revealed some of the time frames surrounding many top producing artists and/or organizations in my musical lexicon. Phil Spector with his famous wall of sound produced numerous hits until the end of 1966 when the failure of his masterpiece, Ike and Tina Turner’s ‘River Deep-Mountain High’ drove him to early retirement.

Motown, the ultimate hit factory out of Detroit, rolled out a string of hits until greed, envy and unbridled ambition ended its reign at roughly the same time Spector’s factory closed down. Closer to home, Sound Eighty recording studios in South Minneapolis burned brightly in the early eighties until digital technology and a clash of creative minds closed it down after only a dozen years.

So, the question is: do we each have our own time in the spotlight in whatever area of interest we nurture in our heart? On a more personal note, are I in the midst of my own creative period?

I’ve been tap-dancing around the arts since an early age. From rudimentary drawings of Hollywood inducted fantasies to an outline for a TV script for ‘Have Gun, Will Travel,’ I’ve dipped my mind into the other world of ‘what if?’ all of my life. Granted, it was always a side venture, never enough to sustain me financially or creatively until now.

Working in television and freelance gigs in cable augmented that interest in the arts with the occasional paying side hustle and other creative ventures. Two of my first westerns were written in our first home in Maryland in the evening hours after work. One year per book. Then nothing came of them until forty years later when they finally attained book form. After that, the flood gates seemed to open. I gave birth to more books then plays and finally movie scripts.

After that period, a comic strip was born alongside a skinny little hippo. Then song lyrics to accompany some of my plays began to drain out of my brain. Each became a new creative avenue to explore in another form of story-telling.

So the question begs to be answered. Is that it then? Is my creative window going to close anytime soon? In a strange turn of events, I seem to be getting more creative as I age. My interest in a myriad of things continues to grow and expand. Each is ripe material for story-telling. Song writing now holds the edge over other creative endeavors. It would seem that time and health are the two biggest factors affecting my hours logged on the computer or scratch pad.

Is this my time of the most creativity or is it just a blip in my life’s story? I really don’t know.

If it’s true that an active mind and body are two key elements to living longer, I would seem to be in good standing among the senior crowd. Or is it just a fleeting moment in time soon to be edged aside by older age, health issues or a visit by the grim reaper?

Hell, if I know. But until then, excuse me, I’ve got a story to tell.

Real Housewives of the Twin Cities

This would probably make any realtor cringe. The idea that, for some, home-buying is a beauty contest draped in stately homes, manicured lawns, a little red school house for precious cherubs and a blissful existence for any and all who enter its realm. This is in line with the preachings of The Journal of Consumer Affairs which ranks (tongue stuck in cheek) the ‘best places to live’ around the country. Their curated list, in turn, ranks in the same category as the home-buying philosophy found in Money Magazine, People Magazine, and YouTube videos.

Anyone and everyone, with their own vested interest, can tell you where the best place to live might be. The reality is that home-buying is often a game in which it’s the best façade that wins in terms of pedigree, history, desirable zip codes and the illusion that says once there, ‘you’ve arrived.’

It seems as if Lakeville wants to be the new Edina. Edina wants to keep its crown while the outlier suburbs want a piece of that action too. Highland Park has kept its panache and St. Louis Park seems to want theirs back by rebranding itself ‘Westapolis.’ Then there are other communities like Burnsville who wonder what happened to their once esteemed status in the greater pecking order of ‘I have arrived’ homes. Minnetonka Beach seems to have grabbed that title from them for now.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand the ‘hype.’ I live in California half the year and certainly get it in terms of presenting the best home-buying package possible. Yet, it’s been interesting to watch what’s happening with home-buying in the Twin Cities? It used to be so clear and simple. Where you lived was often determined by proximity to jobs, schools, retail and entertainment. While that equation hasn’t changed its coat of many colors, the real estate lexicon has evolved with the times.

I’ve been out of the real estate game for some time now but my interest hasn’t diminished over the years. With the miles traveled, it’s often interesting, amusing and at times perplexing to me to see what the current market is like. It seems that what’s old is new again and current trends often reflect past events, only with new costumes and ‘hot’ labels instead.

When my family first moved to Apple Valley in the late Seventies, it was Burnsville that held the title as the fastest growing community south of the river. It had great schools, brand new housing developments and a thriving commercial component.

Apple Valley was no slouch itself but was still in its infancy, having just been newly minted Apple Valley from its old moniker of Lebanon Township. My, how times have changed. The city now boasts a large collection of apartments, condominiums and senior housing at its core and leafy large lot homes surrounding downtown.

Back then, South of Apple Valley was only farm land. Rosemount, Lakeville, and Farmington were still tiny hamlets only connected by narrow two-lane blacktop roads.

Out west, Eden Prairie was just starting to grow as an alternative to the western suburbs that nestled around Lake Minnetonka. Wayzata, Orono and others were still relatively untouched by growth and development.

Now Lakeville has claimed its title as the place to be with its higher end homes, two high schools, growing retail outlets and plenty of land to develop.

Unfortunately, the removal of all ‘inclusion posters’ in its schools because a few parents want them gone doesn’t speak well of its inclusionary façade. It would almost seem as if they don’t want ‘those people infecting their tony communities.’ Lake Elmo seems to have suffered from the same malaise. Which is an interesting juxtaposition since the quality of the school district still seems to be the prevailing number one factor on what young families are looking for in their new address.

From my perch as an outsider for six months out of the year, I’m not influenced by the daily weather conditions, traffic jams, political charades, brain-numbing newscasts and other distractions from what’s really happening in my hometown. To be clear, I love Minnesota and wouldn’t want to live anyplace else. But it isn’t all ‘puff and stuff’ despite what the latest housing blitz wants you to believe.

I still believe some of the best values can be found in my city’s older neighborhoods with their solid Orin Thompson build homes, large lots, easy access to parks and amenities, reliable city services and overall friendly neighbors. We don’t need ten years and mature trees to see those values, they’re already there.

In my community and others like it, there are still solid home-grown values that the new administration in D.C., outstate politicians, and ‘back to the past’ dreamers want you to believe have changed for the worst. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Even with its age-related spots, Minnesota is still full of ‘Yeah, you bet-cha’ friendly folks who will quickly lend a helping hand.  Its core values of goodness haven’t changed despite the rhetoric and antics by some who wish otherwise. If you’re going to live anyplace, Minnesota is as good a place as any.  I’ve lived that reality all my life and so has my family.

And proud of it.