One year ago today: September 2, 2023, my look at splines.
Five years ago today: September 2, 2019, behind the stove.
Nine years ago today: September 2, 2015,on real estate prices.
Random years ago today: September 2, 2013, I built that wagon.
A new recipe for me, scrambled grits. I happen to like grits so well that I rarely add anything but butter and salt, so welcome to this morning’s daring adventure. Sausage, onlion, tomato, and the grits. Not bad at all, once in a while, but I’ll stick with my grits on the side. I still have no Internet connection, I swear Florida knows to crap on you Fridays after closing on long weekends. The sun is finally up, so I’m going to play bass—ah, wait. The neighbor just started some kind of small motor, so I’m not the first to wake-em-and-shake-em.
The band got millenialized. Them millennials are so smart, they cover all the bases, or do they? I had left a message with the Prez on Wednesday evening that I would check for the gig on Friday. But when I got there, the staff was different, I did not know them. So I returned on Friday afternoons to talk to the commander, who says Friday is slow for them on Labor Day, why not Monday afternoon? Great, so I get home to find my e-mail is down, so I text the Prez. The millennial way, right? Wrong.
Millennials live on their phones, the real world does not. I did not know his home phone is not set up for text. See how these damn millennials refuse to learn from the past and every one of their wonderful “new” systems always leaves holes like this, holes that cause mistakes. You can’t tell them because they won’t fix it (it’s not their fault and not their job) and their only response is ideas on you can fix the problems they create at your own expense. They don’t perceive how that tactic is pinching off their own money supply. As you see, the last message the Prez got was that I was checking for a Friday gig, and from his viewpoint, he never heard back from me. So he showed up on Friday.
By this morning, I had not heard back, and I called. He spent an hour on Friday looking for me, even going to Kooters in case that wire was crossed. I finally called at noon, just in time. We set up a failsafe system where I call his work number and from now on, always confirm. A cumbersome and inefficient way to have to deal with this millennialism. I’ll explain why it is a triple-screw-up with those people. There was no text feature on my “smart” phone to tell me the message was not delivered—a truly stupid system. That’s one screw-up. Now, the millennials would argue that this is a new system and should not be expected to be perfect. That’s screw-up number two, because neither the phone nor the radio are new technologies. All they had to do was emulate the old phone system.
Screw-up number three is they do not perceive this as in any way their problem. They’ve trained themselves to live in a world of assumptions. This is already coming back at them, but it is too late. To fix things now is already too expensive. Wait till enough of them die because the ambulance didn’t have texting or the fire truck shows up at the wrong robo-address.
Clarinet museum.
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This afternoon, you’ve earned a tale from the trailer court, but are you ready? If you are an entertainer like me, fasten your blog-mobile seatbelts. My Gigrack PA system finally gave out, on stage, at the afternoon gig. It has been acting up, but we learned to avoid the channels that misbehaved. Not now, it completely shut down, likely for good. Ah, but those who’ve been with me a while know that one of the first things I do with a band is train them for Florida power failures. We can do a 90-minute set completely acoustic. In this band, that means me switching to guitar and the Prez grabs the mandolin. No bass, just acoustic guitar and mandolin. Ah but the music is arranged for duos, and that means any duo—you still play your part, just on a different instrument.
Yikes, guitar does terrible things to my tender bass-playing fingertips and I get a case of guitar-elbow when strumming more than twenty minutes, but the show must go on. We had to stop an hour early because we were out of material. This [however] preserves my lifelong reputation of never quitting a show. The crowd was pretty sparse by 5:00PM. This gave the staff and regulars a chance to hear a rare acoustic show—even if that was not the plan. So what’s the big deal?
I do not know anything about the size or composition of this group, but they have enough sway that the house wants them entertained, and we are the chosen band. The stipulation is we must play completely acoustic, which means no microphones or even a bass amp. This is likely going to work because we were able to play over half our existing list. Another ten would be possible if I had known how to play the chords. F and Bm, I kind of fake. But that was before I got a $50 tip. My melody lines suffer when I strum certain passages, but nobody said anything. This type of is something new [for us] and just you remember the rule is failure, not success.
It was quick conference time afterward. We have all the acoustic gear except a bass, which would be needed for at least a few of our fanciest numbers. What’s more, acoustic is a lot easier on my back. The acoustic bass likely be required so I [that] don’t have to strum too long in one stretch. I can’t do it for long now and that is not going to improve over time, I’ve tried. They may bend the bass rule a bit, but acoustic is the rule. We finished the last half hour with just the Prez playing tunes I didn’t recognize, but then he will often play a dud song because some famous guy sang it. Nor can any solo match the duo, but that’s another tale from the trailer court. Stand by for developments on this. It was a surprise that landed on our laps and I’m not one to slouch when there’s a knock.
Another bonus is the Legion serves a lunch for $10 a plate, and it is a substantial helping. Sometimes they have leftovers and I’m the only bachelor in the band. That barmaid I did not know was on duty and the show took her from somewhat standoffish to enthusiastic about having the show on her shift. That, and all the broiled chicken, potato salad, and veggies I could want. Who could ask for anything more? What? Well, yes, she is a babe, and definitely my type, but twenty years too late. I know this gal from somewhere, probably Winter Haven. The clock says I put in a 14-hour day. There was no time for a siesta. I’m content to plunk down in about five minutes with a hot chocolate. I suggest you do the same as often as possible long before the days when you have to. I must say if this musical adventure turns into a steady gig, it will be a milestone in my career—similar to the time I once went in to get a microphone and wound up becoming a professional bingo caller for what, the next seven years?
Later, I had time to mull over the rapid sequence of events this afternoon. It was a case of being prepared, but honestly there is an element of luck when that happens. Surely they’ve had solo guitarists in there, but who recalls the fuss I made about making sure soloists could not easily copycat my arrangements? (It also prevents either of us from going solo, in case anyone gets any ideas, and yes, I still do 90% of the arranging.) One more thing that marks this spot, it would allow us to play sitting down, something I knew was coming and admit I fought it back since 2003. No, folks, I’m not going to get a stand-up bass.
ADDENDUM
How is my Chinese navigation coming along? It must have worked, but talk about labor intensive. For time, they had to build a giant stone sundial which can best be done on dry land. They discovered the place, build the gnomon waited for an eclipse to take some readings, and then sailed an armada back to Peking to await calculation of the longitude. The book is dribbling out just enough facts to keep me reading. Like the Chinese ships had no pointed prow, it was more like a giant barge. Thus it could only sail the same way the wind was blowing.
