How to Rock

My entire relationship with my father was glued together with music and he always paid attention to whatever I was digging on.  This is not to say that we shared musical interests wholly but we were constantly volleying new discoveries.  For instance, he wasn't into rap and hip-hop really, whereas I and pretty much everyone else my age were just blanketed in it by the radio and MTV when we were growing up.  I don't think it's something he related to or understood in any way.  On the same token, I could've cared less about his Boz Scaggs and Steely Dan at that time.

I'd just finished the second grade and was en route to my first concert with my dad.  He knew that I was really into The B-52's and jumped on the opportunity to introduce me to the rock concert culture and, more specifically, SPAC.  I don't remember what I was wearing or who other than my dad was with us but I can tell you that I was excited the second we pulled into a parking space.  It was really happening.

I do remember that the opener was Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers, who brought out an entire chorus of children on one of their last songs.  This night was also the first time of many that my dad would make up some story for the security guard in an effort to get us better seats.  I have no clue how the fuck he did it but it worked ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME.  He'd act kind of panicked, point at me and then mumble something about "his mother is down there" or "he just threw his hat down there and I have to get it".  He would then give them a look that I knew all too well.  It was the "Try and stop me motherfucker" look and believe me, you didn't want to be  on the other end of that stare.  It was more powerful than any word in any language.  Needless to say, that act got me front row seats for any act we attended.

As I sat on his shoulders in the second row, I watched in awe of Fred Schneider and Kate Pierson. The band was having the best time of their lives and so was anyone within a square mile.  I looked around at all the people in the crowd and they were pulsating and sweating and singing.  You could tell that their minds and bodies were in two different places, perhaps even universes apart.

I think that's when I truly realized the power of music.  Sure, the individuals of the band enjoyed playing their respective instruments for their own reasons but what they did when they got together was for everyone else.  They were offering a relief, an escape, a refuge even if for only a few hours.

After that night, I knew that I wanted to play music.  I wanted to play so I could provide an escape, for myself and anyone else who needed it.  If this was a way that I could make people feel good, then I wanted to do it because it made me feel good too.

So, my dad never actually played an instrument but he taught me how to rock before I even picked up my first air guitar.  For that, I will be thankful for the rest of my days on Earth.

The Empty Chair

Originally my idea was to do a piece on driving in the snow.  I had a title picked out and everything.

4WD4D - Four Wheel Drive For Dickheads

A Helpful Guide to Driving Amongst Assholes in the Snow of Upstate New York

That story may or may not still be under development but regardless I've decided to shelve it.

Instead I wanted to talk about the certain group of people who dread the upcoming holidays.  A huge reason that most give for not looking forward to Christmas is loss.  The thought of an empty chair around the dinner table can be depressing and draining and it's usually enough to make one want to sit home, alone, in silence.  Alas, we know there's no escaping it and we'll have to sit there with our usual crowd (minus one) and share a meal.  I can say from experience... the anticipation is the worst part.

So the title is now:

The Empty Chair

A Helpful Guide to Enjoying Christmas for Those Who Think it's Going to be Impossible

It's hard to go shopping for presents and see something that person would have liked, only to realize you have no reason to buy it now.  You smell their favorite cookies and when you close your eyes, their smiling face is there, full of crumbs.  They hated Christmas music but they always liked that one goofy song.  When it comes on the radio you smirk because for just a second, you can hear that person giggling and singing along next to you in the passenger seat.

I know I'm not alone here.  I know that others have experienced the simultaneous joy and sorrow of remembering someone.  Just thinking of them fills your entire body with a comforting warmth but also brings your eyes to high tide.  Sometimes having a memory is painful because you're essentially reliving a moment in your mind while consciously aware that it is gone.

At this point you are probably asking yourself...

"Are you going to get to the part about it not being impossible or should I just take the turkey out of the oven and replace it with my head?"

Please step away from the appliances and try to relax for minute.

It's not going to be impossible.   There's a pretty good chance that everyone seated at the dinner table has been thinking of that empty chair too.  The empty chair isn't even near the table, though.  It's not even a chair at all.  It's a state of mind.

Every Christmas is different than the last just as every day is different than the one before.  One thing that remains constant from year to year is the fact that people come together to share existence.  It's important to enjoy the company you have and to also remember that their Christmas has been different every year of their life.  You're all gathered under a roof to give appreciation to one another and remind yourselves of the joys of being alive.

So just trust me on this one, this year you may be missing someone but they'll exist in your conversation, your tears and most importantly, your laughter.  At the end of the day, the floor will be littered with shreds of wrapping paper and the house filled with mouth-watering aromas.  You will collapse, fully fed, on the couch, your mind littered with new memories to miss and your body filled with that comforting warmth.

Christmas is a holiday.

I'd like to clear a few things up for people that may not understand that they are standing on a planet that is full of other people.  Every year around this time there are a few complaints about the manner of greeting and well-wishing in public places.  I'm talking about the holidays.  All of them.

If you do any shopping in the month of December, there's a good chance that most people on the other side of the counter will wish you "Happy Holidays".  Here are a few reasons why they didn't just say "Merry Christmas".

1. Christmas is a religious holiday and not everyone practices a religion where that day is recognized as being monumental.  Not everyone practices religion.
2. A week after Christmas is another holiday, New Years Day.  In essence, they're killing two birds with one stone.  After all, they may not see you in between Christmas and New Years Day.
3. The employee does not know you, your lifestyle, your religion and likely, not even your name.  It's best to keep their good-natured wishes on a politically correct level. 

Now, I'm not a religious person but I do celebrate Christmas for traditional reasons.  I wish a Merry Christmas to my friends and family every year if I know that they celebrate the holiday.   When I'm on the other side of the counter, however, I resort to a more neutral offering as most people in retail do.

Why?

I have respect for people that may not do the same things as me.  There is only one me and there is a whole planet of other people.  I'm outnumbered.  To think that there is another single soul out there who does everything just like me and believes in all the same things is not only preposterous, it's scary.

In closing, when someone hands you a receipt and wishes you a happy holiday season, just return the sentiment and go about your life.

It's the most wonderful time of the year, so don't be a dick.