The Moments - Chapter 24: I Have Courage

          While I am not a man who enjoys admitting all his weaknesses, and have sought to master the art of making myself look a bit better than I actually am, I find that being a daddy is the ultimate opportunity to display and face (uneasy though it may be) a multitude of fears, weaknesses, and shortcomings in my life. When these opportunities arise, I try to minimize the display of my weakness to Joey. No father wants his child to worry about his ability to handle a particular situation – especially if that child is fearful at the time, too. It amazes me when Joey himself is the teacher and even the comforter in such cases.
          For about as long as I can remember, I have suffered from time to time with fits of acrophobia – the fear of heights. It isn’t too frequent but can be almost paralyzing. I still love a good mountaintop or high-rise building view, but I’d rather look out than down to enjoy it. Occasionally, narrow or steep stairs or ladders that extend fairly high can bother me, but those are mild cases. The more common problems come about in cases of particularly high, open heights and when my feet or most of my body doesn’t feel stable or secured. While I don’t believe Joey has that type of problem with heights, he certainly has the normal toddler fears about the unknown and the possibility of getting hurt in situations in which he has little control. As he started recognizing some such instances on his own, a common declaration to hear from him became “I have courage.” I often hear him say this when he is climbing up or down stairs (though I don’t understand why he would consider that troubling since he usually sleeps in an upstairs bedroom at his mom’s house). But, he says it over other things too. The realities of my natural fear and Joey’s need to feel safe and secure collided when my parents and I took Joey to the fair last Fall.
          Mama and Daddy and I looked forward to taking Joey to experience the Henderson County Fair. The crowds were bigger than they used to be and some of the rides and exhibits had changed, but it brought back a flood of memories. It was a great night. Joey rode nearly every “kiddie” ride and a few others, the four of us won some prizes at various games, we ate some our favorite carnival foods, and ran into several friends and relatives. The night included pretty much everything I assumed we would experience during our first time taking Joey to the fair.         

          As we covered the rides and attractions in the kids’ section of the midway, Joey paid special attention to the Ferris wheel. This was not the only Ferris wheel at the fair. A larger one stood on the main midway with round, topped, multi-person seats. This was the type of Ferris wheel that I commonly rode when I was younger. The smaller one, which by no means was built as a true “kiddie-sized” Ferris wheel, had two-person seats with foot-rests and safety bars. Smaller, yes, but this was a true open-air Ferris wheel. It also sat on the elevated portion of the fairgrounds that made it rise taller than anything else at the fair. Joey has always been fascinated by Ferris wheels, and I actually thought he had ridden one before. A conversation with his mother a few days later confirmed that I was incorrect and made me understand the newness, for Joey, of the experience we were about to have. We basically attacked each ride in the kids’ section in order, moving ever closer to the lighted rolling marvel.

          As we finished a neighboring ride, Joey reminded me that he wanted to ride the Ferris wheel and that “It’s gonna be so fun!” We got in line and waited. His excitement and anticipation grew, as did my curiosity of whether this would “activate” my acrophobia. Obviously, thinking about it was a bad indication and probably a generator of the problem. I knew this was the kind of height experience that could be a problem for me. After several minutes, it was our turn to board. I had already, without revealing my personal fear, given Joey some basic instructions about what we were to do on the ride – hold the bar with both hands, sit still, keep both feet down (though his couldn’t touch the foot-rest), etc. As the first rotation of the wheel would consist of a lot of stops to fill the ride before it made any complete rotations, I thought it would help Joey get used to this particular Ferris wheel and allow me to ease out of any “phobia fit” that might be possible. We were secured in our cart and went one “click” backward as the next cart was filled. No problem. A minute or two passed and we went back one more click. So far, I was alright, but Joey looked at me with a tinge of fear. He had seen how high we were off the ground and said, calmly at this point, “Daddy, I’m scared.” Uh oh! What to do now? As he had barely said it and I had barely thought through any possible options, we were going back another click. At this point, we were basically sitting at 9 o’clock and I was now also feeling how open and high in the air we were. Acrophobic Chuck was back and screaming out in my mind. I gripped the bar tighter out of reflex and forced a smile as I told Joey to only look at me – don’t look down and don’t look out, just look at me. He had tears in his eyes, and told me again “I’m still scared, Daddy.” I had to put on the acting performance of a lifetime. To hide my paralyzing phobia and try to calm and reassure my son at the same time would be the ultimate mental gymnastics. I repeated “It’s going to be ok, son. You have courage. Just sit still and hold on and listen to me while we’re on this, and everything will be fine.” Meanwhile, in my mind, a chorus of “I’m gonna fall!” was singing out. As the Ferris wheel took us one more click up, still not even at 12 o’clock high, I was running every possible scenario through my head. Should I attempt to signal the ride operator, or get someone else to, to ask him to let us off when we made the first rotation? Would someone else also be having a problem and do the job for us? Was there a way to calm Joey enough to make it through the whole ride in the midst of my own attack? By the time we made our stop at the highest point, I considered all these options. While talking to Joey to try to keep his mind occupied against the fear, I carefully reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. It was a long shot, but I dialed my mother’s phone in case she could see, hear, or feel it. No luck. As I put the phone back in my pocket and resumed a death-grip on the safety bar of our cart, I started going through every song that Joey likes with a relatively soothing melody. I particularly wanted to aim for one with which he commonly sings along. After several (within a very few minutes) back-and-forth rounds of “I’m still scared, Daddy,” followed by my response of, “I know, son, but it’s going to be ok. Remember, you have courage,” I was ready to change strategy. Right about the time we hit the 12 o’clock position, I turned to Joey and channeled Big Bird from “Follow That Bird” (one of our favorite movies). Leaning toward him slightly, I started singing slowly, “The sun is in the sky, and clouds are rollin’ by, and today is gonna be one wonderful day. Hand in hand together, we’ll be friends forever. Sharing all the good times, happy and free… It’s gonna be so easy goin’… We’ll laugh our cares away on this easy goin’… easy goin’ day.” I stopped after the first verse to check his status. Joey’s face didn’t look quite so terrified, though a little worn from the bit of crying he had done. Surprisingly, he hadn’t interrupted the song to restate that he was scared. We were barely below 3 o’clock on the Ferris wheel now and I assumed would stop another time or two before the consistent rotations began. I was wrong. Before I knew it, the wheel was turning without stopping and my own fears and shivers were running through my body at a fast pace. While my mind and body were telling me that I desperately wanted to get off, I could also feel myself getting in sync with the speed and rhythm of the wheel as it maintained its pace. I looked at Joey and nervously sang the second verse, “We’re never in a hurry. Got no time to worry. We’ll take it nice and easy, singin’ our song. There’s never any trouble. We’re floatin’ like a bubble. La la la la la la... Lighter than air. Why should we care? We’re easy goin’. We’ll laugh our cares away on this easy goin’… easy goin’ day.” I repeated the chorus a couple of times and then asked, “Joey, are you ok?” With a smile, he said “I’m not scared anymore, Daddy. You sang to me, so I’m not scared anymore.” Wait, what now? He said it with such confidence. I wanted to cry – partly out of the temporary exhaustion from what my acrophobia was doing to me, but mostly because Joey seemed to believe that I made a scary experience easier, and even enjoyable, for him. At that moment, I could feel myself stabilizing a bit. Yes, Joey did have courage, and he was sharing some of it with me. We sang a couple choruses of “Easy Goin’ Day” together after that and then talked about the view of the fair for the last minute or so of the ride. While I got off the Ferris wheel with wobbly legs and shot nerves, I was incredibly relieved to see Joey go back to Mama Tee and Daddy J as happy as he was just before we boarded the Ferris wheel. The terror was over. He was glowing. My parents actually wouldn’t have suspected anything was bad up there aside from me telling them (and looking flushed in the face). Joey got on one more ride in the kids’ area, and then we headed back to the main midway for a few final stops before leaving for the night.

          The last thing we did before leaving was to slide down the tall “Fun Slide,” which we had already done two or three times earlier. It was our most repeated activity of the night. As we departed the midway and headed for Mama and Daddy’s car, I walked a couple paces behind to snap a cute picture of Joey holding hands with his grandparents. As I did, Daddy asked Joey, “So, what was your favorite ride at the fair?” As the Fun Slide had been our most frequent activity and the last thing we did, I assumed he was about to say that. But, quickly and happily, Joey told Daddy J, “It was the Ferris wheel!” My mother saw me looking at Joey in amazement. Wow. My son was indeed brave and strong to overcome his fear and anxiety so quickly. He said that singing to him helped it. What he may never understand is how much he helped me in return. One day, I hope that “I have courage” just like Joey. 

The Moments - Chapter 23: Breakfast with Santa, Dinner with the Doctor, and a Lesson in German

          From the time Joey began speaking more than a word at a time, I was fascinated by the progression with which his verbal abilities developed.  From the way one word could mean ten things in the beginning (He called every female human “Momma” for a while, and “That one” could mean several different Elvis songs.) to the humorously incorrect phrasing and pronunciation that was common as he spoke more in sentences, I just never could listen to him enough.  Whether it was the joy of simply hearing him say “Dadda” to me or deciphering the meaning of “Alvin pooted,” every word and expression was, and still is, meaningful.  More than just speech patterns though, listening to Joey speak is increasingly more of a window into his mind – the thought processes and memory focus – that never cease to make me think and look at him with wonder.  Over time, some of those thoughts and recollections have been very random but have always reminded me that my son was born with a creative mind and a memory like a steel trap.  Allow me to give three examples that occurred quite close together last Spring…

          Even now, the topic of Christmas is frequently on Joey’s mind.  Visions of sugarplums just keep dancing in his head.  Last year, though, this was a particularly strong pattern.  Whether he was asking if we had Yuletide decorations up in August or he was contemplating what he wanted as gifts as early as June, the birthday of Jesus was a party that my son sought to plan all year.  Joey is also safety-conscious.  One Thursday morning, last April, Joey had a random thought at breakfast.  After watching a cartoon with no noticeable Christmas focus, while eating waffles and bacon, Joey randomly delivered the thought, “I don’t want Santa to come down the chimney, because he might get burned.”  Pausing (and laughing in my mind) at the randomness of the statement but realizing that Joey was thinking of his mother’s house, where there is a fireplace, I replied with, “Yeah, we don’t want Santa to get burned. But I think his magic keeps the fireplace from hurting him where people have one. Here, he just comes through the door or the window.”  As the conversation briefly continued, Joey didn’t completely give up on his safety concerns for Santa Claus, but he seemed to accept that I wasn’t totally shooting him down.  We both hold great respect for the Man in Red.

          The next night, Joey spent mealtime entertaining me in the style of Dr. Seuss.  The works of Theodor Geisel have long been among Joey’s favorite literature and we tend to go in waves of reading one or two of his books several times over a given period of time.  Last Spring, one of the commonly revisited works of Seuss was “There’s A Wocket In My Pocket” – a fun book and a classic example of Seuss’s nonsensical poetry.  As we sat at the table, just Joey and I, eating pepperoni pizza along with carrots and ranch dip for supper, Joey grinned and began channeling his inner Seuss.  “Look, Daddy. There’s gands on my hands! And there’s a nizza on my pizza!”  He wanted a laugh, and he got one.  Then, he said, “You try it, Daddy.”  As I put a carrot in the ranch, I smiled at him and said, “There’s a slip of the dip.”  Now, Joey laughed and continued, “There’s a nilk in my milk. There’s a natapillar in my caterpillar.”  His dramatic stretching of “natapillar” and “caterpillar” added an extra tone of gravitas to this exercise, and a reminder that he has a flare for the dramatic.  As I was behind him, refilling our drinks, I saw him proudly raise a carrot to add a verse, “There’s some nip in my dip, and there’s narrots on my carrots.”  Noticing how focused on the letter “N” he was, I offered the idea, “Could there be a zate on my plate?”  With a laugh, Joey quickly informed me, “No, Daddy. That doesn’t make sense.”  I stood corrected but so very impressed by Joey’s fascination with the poetic style he had picked up through one of the simplest Seuss books we were accustomed to reading.  While Joey had given me some very profound (for a three-year-old) mealtime thoughts over two consecutive days, my springtime education was just beginning.

          Two weeks after we enjoyed breakfast with Santa and dinner with the Doctor, Joey shared a bit of his perspective on foreign language education.  After picking him up from his mom’s house, we proceeded to run a couple errands.  As frequently was, and sometimes still is, a drivetime pastime for him, Joey asked me to let him play with our Garmin GPS device – or the “Garden,” as he called it for a long time.  Joey knows how to make the Garmin take us home, and he likes watching the map move.  He’ll often go to a screen where he can type letters and numbers, too.  He actually uses it to practice his counting sometimes.  On this particular occasion, we were heading to Kroger when Joey typed several letters and then passed the Garmin forward to me.  “Tell me what I spelled, Daddy,” he said.  Normally, when he did something like this, putting random letters together, I would do my best to give a phonetic pronunciation to what was likely an illegitimate word.  This time, he had me stumped.  How does one even try to pronounce “Ogdsscgxfoc” and “Ffrydcxxmxkk”? (Props to Joey for injecting the word “fry” in there, though.) Looking and pondering for a moment, I handed it back to Joey and said, “Well, son, I’m not sure what those words are. Could it be something in German?”  My little genius’s instant response was classic (and boldly honest), “Well, there’s not a “J” in it.”  I laughed and didn’t question him.  Indeed, the letter “J” was nowhere to be found.  And, apparently, all those years I took French never taught me that German words simply do not have a place for the “J.”  From that, we took our English-speaking selves to Kroger. 

          My son is many things and possesses more great qualities than I could begin to name.  But whether he is showing himself to be concerned about the health and safety of a jolly man who enters his home like a ninja or showing what a lyrical poet he can be or schooling his Daddy in a foreign language, he does it all by turning the smile on his face into the laughter of my heart.  That’s one of the beauties of having a great kid in your life.  Even if you’re not blessed to enjoy “the Joey show” as much as I am, I hope there is a little one adding some of that laugh to your life.

The Moments - Chapter 22: Distinguished Gentlemen and a Lady in Red

       I always enjoy connecting Joey to some of bright spots of my childhood, and I especially enjoy when those connections occur somewhat naturally... almost accidentally. Last July 5, a series of events fell into place with perfect timing to put Joey in closer proximity to some of my favorite memories from yesteryear.
       Building up to that day, I take this story to a Kroger parking lot. Though Elvis plays on our car stereo most of the time, I sometimes play CDs featuring other artists or songs that I think Joey will enjoy. I’m sure he will always count the King as his favorite artist, but I want to encourage his appreciation of all great music.  Rockapella is firmly in that rotation. You just can’t go wrong with them. After a few occasions of playing their CDs in Joey’s presence, he started paying extra attention to the theme song from “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” Yes! Parenting win for a child of the 90s. After hearing it, and hearing me sing along with it, a few times (and not really being able to show him the old gameshow on TV), I also introduced him to the “Where on Earth Is Carmen Sandiego?” cartoon which we own on DVD (another great show). After a bit of Carmen exposure over the spring and summer of last year, he started an interesting conversation on July 3. After getting him from his mom’s house, we went to pick up some things at Kroger. As Rockapella sang those classic lines from the gameshow theme song and we pulled into a parking space, Joey asked me “Daddy, why they looking for Carmen Sandiego?” I explained that she was the greatest thief of all time and that she travels the world stealing big, important things but that ACME Crimenet was always there to stop her. I told him that she was the focus of a TV show I watched when I was a boy and that the song we had just been singing with Rockapella came from that show. He took it all in. He was particularly intrigued when I said that Carmen always wore red – Joey’s favorite color. The conversation ended as we walked into Kroger but would continue with a different angle two days later.
       That Sunday, July 5, we left Nashville early to join my parents at their church near Lexington. Still having Rockapella in the CD player, they started our day with song. After hearing the Carmen Sandiego theme again, Joey asked me very specifically, “Daddy, when did you watch that show about Carmen Sandiego?” Figuring we had time for a long answer, I told him, “Well, that show first came on the air when I started the Second Grade and my best friend introduced me to it. One of the first times I went to Donald’s house after school, he said, ‘You’ve got to check out this show.’ So we went into his grandparents’ bedroom and sat in the floor and looked up at the TV that sat on their dresser, and I heard the Chief and Rockapella and I saw Carmen Sandiego and her gang for the first time. It was such a cool show! From then on, I watched it every afternoon at 4:00. I wish it still came on TV, because you’d love it. Each day, a different member of Carmen’s gang would steal something, and the ACME detectives would have to get it back. And then, one of them would get the chance to go after Carmen herself. Win or lose, at the end of the show, the host would say to the last gumshoe, ‘There’s one more thing you have to do. You know what it is,’ and then that kid would yell ‘Do it, Rockapella!’ and Rockapella would sing Carmen’s theme song.” He acknowledged it all with an interested, “Oh! Ok.” I continued by telling him, “Donald and I watched that show for five years. I want you to meet Donald someday, too. He doesn’t live in Tennessee anymore. He moved away right before we started high school, and now he lives in North Carolina. But he has a little girl who’s about your age.” From Joey, I got another “Oh,” and we kept driving. He asked to hear the Carmen Sandiego theme a couple more times, and this was when he picked up the habit of shouting “Do it, Rockapella!” from the backseat when we would listen to Rockapella. Some more miles and a few songs later, we pulled into the church parking lot and I proceeded to help Joey out of his carseat. As I was unbuckling the straps, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Speak of the devil – it was Donald! He and his wife, Amy, and their adorable daughter, Dagny, were visiting his West Tennessee family and they and his grandparents were joining his uncle’s family, who had recently joined my parents’ church, for the morning. It was so wonderful to see my old friend, as it had been a few years this time. Seeing Donald always brings back a flood of memories of fun times during our grade school years and how dear he and his family were to me as we were growing up. I hadn’t seen him and Amy since before Dagny was born, and they had never met Joey. As soon as I got over the surprise, I pulled Joey over and told him that this was the man we had been talking about earlier, and that Donald was responsible for us knowing who Carmen Sandiego is and about her TV theme song. He was basically the person who introduced us to Rockapella. After the church service ended, we had a few more minutes to chat, and Amy got some pictures of the kids.
       Looking at my little boy while standing next to the childhood friend I used to play Nintendo with until, sometimes, dawn made me feel like time had sprinted. Then, I remembered that those days were nearly a quarter-century earlier. Time hadn’t sprinted - we just lost track of it. How far we had gone and how much we had done in the years between can’t be measured. But now, Donald and I both have little ones of whom we are so proud (as I write this, Donald and Amy are preparing to welcome another little girl) and opportunities to season their upbringing with a little bit of our own history. I’m still working with Joey on being a Donald/Chuck caliber Nintendo player, but I’ll always have some Rockapella CDs close by to be the soundtrack of our life. Meanwhile, I will wish my son the kind of friend I had in Donald as he moves toward school age – to be a great influence and to make things more fun as a team.

Nothin' But the Music - Track 10

       “We make our music with our mouths,” is common to hear when Rockapella introduces themselves. With no man-made instruments, five men of extraordinary talent use their versatile vocal chords to add their own brand of music to a vast collection of songs, both original and covered. Through changes in lineup over the years, Rockapella has endured as a group that always provides a powerful listening and entertainment experience via the purest instrument of all – the human voice.
       For me, Rockapella also represents a link to some great childhood memories, as I grew up watching “Where In the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” on PBS. After appearing in the documentary “Spike Lee & Co.: Do It A Cappella,” performing “Zombie Jamboree,” the creators of the edutainment game show approached Rockapella to become the “house band” of the show. In September 1991, Rockapella joined host Greg Lee and ACME Crimenet Chief Lynne Thigpen (may she rest in peace) for the five-year run of an amazingly made, intensely fun, and extremely educational weekday program. Adding their stamp to the show’s originality, lead singer Sean Altman penned the classic theme song with David Yazbek. Almost 25 years later, that song is still one of the group’s most recognizable trademarks (Sean Altman will testify that it can easily match up against any #1 hit) and one of my all-time favorite songs.                  

       On the show, Rockapella’s role was versatile. Among other sources for clues to help the gumshoes (contestants) apprehend the thief of the day, Rockapella often performed rewritten versions of popular songs to deliver historical or geographic information. They also delivered clues by performing in sketches as characters of their own creation. The phenomenal bass singer, Barry Carl, presented some of the best bits in this manner (that man belongs on Broadway). Beyond clue delivery and theme song performance, they provided “musical” accompaniment to virtually every activity and transition on the show. Years later, I learned that some of those rhythms were taken from songs the group performed off the show. The best example being the “tune” we always heard when the Chief was presenting prizes for the gumshoes not catching the crook. We were basically hearing everything but the words of “Don’t Do It” (a great song). Occasionally, if the show ran a tad short, Rockapella would fill the gap with an “ACME Musicnet Break” at the show’s end. Though many PBS viewers had already heard it via Spike Lee’s documentary, that was my first to hear Rockapella’s version of “Zombie Jamboree.” While I loved every aspect of that show, I know that the inclusion of Rockapella, in all their roles, is what kept me and most viewers completely glued and made it a perfect educational TV formula.
       Unfortunately, after five years, Carmen Sandiego’s televised reality on PBS changed and Rockapella was no longer following her through song. This was in early 1996, and I was a sixth grader. After that, I “lost touch with Rockapella” until a fateful round of station surfing on my car radio in 2003. While driving through Lexington on a weekend home from college, I skipped through several of the Jackson-based stations and stopped when I heard a very familiar beat. Was Carmen Sandiego loose in West Tennessee? I didn’t know, but she had made a very brief stop on those airwaves. Rockapella was coming to Jackson! I spent the rest of the weekend glued to the radio waiting to hear the entire commercial. I finally caught it, got the details, and bought tickets for an early November performance by the guys who could sing my childhood. Was I or am I a bit obsessive? Maybe. But I took a psychologist-in-training with me, so I had proper analysis. It was fantastic and was the first of (so far) two Rockapella concerts which I have been honored to attend (they don’t come down South often enough). 
       To see them in concert and own some of their albums opened my eyes and ears to just how versatile and amazing these guys are. Granted, I already knew they had a wide range of talents just from their work on “Where In the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” But these guys are good. I mean REALLY good. Whether singing one of their original songs or one of the covers that have become standards for the group, every song is truly their own and is delivered in one of many styles and from a limitless list of tones and tempos. For me, Rockapella is a group that can sing to any mood and virtually any musical taste one wishes to satisfy. Love songs can come at you with an up-tempo energy in the form of “Moments of You” or “That’s the Way,” or they can take a more traditional slow-down with “A Change in My Life.” Rockapella sings about the pain of love so purely with songs like “Don’t Tell Me You Do” and “This Isn’t Love” and even in a lighthearted fashion with their own “Blah Blah Blah.” Regardless of what type of loss it is, “I’ll Hear Your Voice” is a beautiful song penned by tenor singer Scott Leonard which fits many difficult occasions. Former baritone singer, Elliott Kerman, was a master arranger and performer of some of the groups jazzy and barber shop-style tunes like “No Doubt At All” and “Let’s Get Away from It All.” Former lead singer Sean Altman wrote some very unique and fun songs, but my favorite (after Carmen’s theme) is “Follow Me To Heaven,” a song about the sometimes confusing journey of humanity being pulled in many directions to follow different ideologies (or maybe it’s a weird kind of love song – you be the judge – and check out Sean’s solo version as well). Sometimes Rockapella hooks the jumper cables to me when I need a jolt of positive energy. They can do this through many songs, including “Have A Little Faith,” “Lift Up,” and their fun versions of “Keep On Smilin’,” “Dance With Me,” and “Surfin’ Safari.” Among many other awesome covers they do, I’ve got to give props to their different but incredibly fun renditions of classics like “16 Tons,” “Love Potion #9,” “Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress,” and “Tempted” (theirs was the first version I ever heard of that song before I discovered the original by Squeeze). As the group’s lineup has evolved (no more original members and only 2 who were in the cast of “Carmen Sandiego”) and their collective style has morphed accordingly, they have added new songs and put many of them in the form of unique medleys as part of their show. Among them are Rockapella-ized variations of “Rock the Boat” and “Jailhouse Rock.” You can also see the guys at work in videos they’ve produced for the Internet and DVD, including a version of their 2001 “Rockapella In Concert” album (which I got autographed when I last saw them in Memphis). To those who have never opened their ears to the greatness that is Rockapella, I encourage you to listen to the songs I’ve linked here and then dig deeper. You will find much that you like!

       Rockapella is more than a group – it is a concept and style all its own. In fact, when the Contemporary A Capella Society of America sought to honor the group in 2014 for their vast accomplishments (beyond the numerous nominations and awards they’d already earned), they created a new award and gave Rockapella the CASA’s first Lifetime Achievement Award (the video they made at the time gives a good history of the group). The current surge of acapella groups hitting the musical mainstream owes everything to the trail blazed by Rockapella. Yet, they all still differ greatly from the champions of this art. Among many reasons is the unparalleled versatility of Rockapella. To examine their full catalog shows that the group has hosted songwriters who can write for kids, kids-at-heart, mature listeners, and lovers. To see them in concert and on TV displays that they (particularly Scott Leonard) can move like Michael Jackson or act (especially Barry Carl) like a Broadway actor on a kids’ show. They also make mighty good commercial pitch-men. During most of the run of “Where In the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” one of the prizes given to second and third-place contestants was a CD of music by Rockapella and others, including the show’s theme. I’d always been curious about that album and recently bought one for Joey and me. I knew I’d like it if it was loaded with Rockapella, but I ultimately thought it would just be a nostalgia buy. Not at all! The CD is a kid/family-friendly collection of high-quality songs that would appeal to listeners of any age and is sprinkled with some funny in-between material that takes me back to the humor of the TV show. From the album’s high-energy kick-off song “Capital” to the group’s collaboration with The Persuasions (a group that inspired the founding members of Rockapella) on the soulful “My Home,” the album is a spread of educational items and easy-listening tunes wrapped in a thick dough of well-written musical variety. Basically, the kid in me likes the frosted, fun side and the adult in me likes the healthy, whole-grain side – all at once! The CD ends on a fun note with Scott Leonard singing his heart out with an ode to his home state “Indiana,” followed by Greg Lee prompting an army of kids to launch the show-ending command “Do it, Rockapella!” and end the CD with the greatest TV theme song of all time.
       I’m thrilled that my son has come to love the “Where In the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” theme song, and I enjoy hearing Joey shout “Do it, Rockapella!” from the backseat of our car when we listen to the men who make music with their mouths. At four years old, he knows the words better than I did when I was eight. As long as Rockapella keeps singing the theme of my childhood, they will hold an important place in my nostalgic heart. But, as long as I hold an appreciation for good songs and great singing, I will always be among their greatest fans. Keep doing it, Rockapella! 

 

 

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The Moments - Chapter 21: Even Though We Can't See Vern, He's Always There

              I didn’t really “fall apart” when my Granddaddy died.  From the time Mama told me he was gone (which was expected for a few days) until his funeral, I only remember crying a little once.  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel the loss or that I wasn’t in mourning.  Unfortunately, the last year or so of his life had seen him suffer so much, physically and mentally, primarily due to the effects of Alzheimer’s disease, to the point that my immediate reaction was of relief for him.  He was out of pain.  He could be himself again.  I missed Granddaddy and hated the idea of this world without him, but I knew that none of us here could help him anymore and that he was overdue for the relief that only God could have waiting for him with those he already missed from this life.  At the funeral home, I told several people that I knew he was alright and that I’d never felt more at ease about death in my life.  That was in mid-May of 2009.  Back then, I often recorded movies and documentaries on my DVR to watch on relaxing weekends or after work if I had no other plans.  A few weeks after Granddaddy’s death, Nashville Public Television ran the documentary “He Touched Me: The Gospel Music of Elvis Presley” (an amazing program).  I had seen portions of it before but looked forward to watching it in its entirety, complete with interviews of Elvis’s friends and associates and clips of them joining the King of Rock ‘n Roll to sing the music he loved more than any other.  A flood of memories consumed me as I heard those accounts of a musical era of which Granddaddy was a part and about which he had told me stories and as I heard the kind of quartet voices I grew up around singing some of the songs I had first heard at church with Granddaddy leading the congregation or from the Gospel quartet in which he sang tenor (nobody sang like the Rhodes Brothers).  As the show ended and the credits rolled with the full recording of Elvis singing “He Touched Me,” I sat alone in my apartment and wept as if I had just then learned that my Granddaddy was gone.  I fully felt it.  And I was reminded that, for me, the day Granddaddy died was, to borrow from Don McLean, the day the music died.

 

               Two-and-a-half years later, I had a son.  One of my greatest regrets is that Joey did not get to know all of my grandparents in this life.  They each would have loved him.  However, I think he has helped me maintain a connection with them as he has grown and I have watched his personality evolve – particularly with my Granddaddy Vernon.  I guess I generated some of those connection points, but most have been through Joey’s own nature and actions.  A while before Joey was born, I asked my Grandmama if I could borrow a couple of Granddaddy’s CDs for a while.  They were the last two gifts I had given him – a greatest hits compilation of The Statler Brothers (we used to watch their variety show on TNN) and a 2-disc “Hee Haw Gospel Quartet” collection.  I listened to them a lot on my own.  After Joey was born, I was picky about what would play on the car stereo if he was with me.  Even a radio station I trusted may have thrown something in that wouldn’t be good for the senses of my few-month-old baby boy.  So, most of the time during Joey’s first year, I would rotate between the same four or five trusted CDs when I wanted to have music in the car for us.  The most frequently played were the “Hee Haw” Gospel CDs and a couple of Elvis CDs that I had long possessed (we know the impact hearing the King had!).  Many of the songs on the “Hee Haw” set are songs I grew up singing in church.  Beyond wanting Joey to hear some of those great hymns very early, I also saw playing them as giving him a little dose of what it would’ve been like to grow up around his Great-Granddaddy Vernon. 

               After Joey was big enough to ride in a forward-facing carseat, he noticed another link to his Great-Granddaddy.  Shortly after he passed away, Grandmama divided up some of Granddaddy’s jewelry among the men of the family.  I got a simple and stylish gold ring with a rectangular 6-diamond set that fits me perfectly.  From the time it was given, I took to wearing it constantly.  After Joey started sitting in the car in a position by which he could see and interact with me more, I would often turn around and tickle his feet or make funny faces at him when we were stopped.  As the months progressed and his ability to respond developed, he would say more detailed things in response what I said or did.  Not long after he was eighteen months old, whenever I would reach my right hand back toward him, he would grab it and say, “Daddy got the ring on.”  Eventually, he would start grabbing my ring finger and attempt to pull it off.  Sometimes, in or out of the car, when Joey would focus his attention on Granddaddy’s ring, I would remind him who it belonged to and tell him that it will be his someday.  As many times as I heard that line from Joey over several months, I sometimes say “Daddy got the ring on,” to myself as I put it on in the morning.

               The mornings have also seen some other Vernon-isms play out between Joey and me.  When my brother and cousin and I were kids, we used to crack up when Granddaddy would sit at the table and make funny faces at us while we were getting ready to eat (and at other times).  Sometimes, it was just a goofy blank stare, but he was a master of it.  I’m reminded of that now when Joey breaks out in random goofy faces at the kitchen table, often looking like a young version of Granddaddy and making some of the very same faces at me.  I assume it will be quite a while before Joey can push his false teeth halfway out of his mouth waiting for someone to look over and laugh (Cousin Shane and I can recall a time when Granddaddy dozed off in the middle of that gag.).  A face at the table, whether entertaining at the moment or not, is primarily there to be fed.  A frequent culinary practice of Granddaddy’s was to add peanut butter to anything on which it was remotely appropriate.  My favorite was always Pop-Tarts.  Over the last couple of years, Joey has seen me do the same when we eat the all-American toaster pastry and seems fascinated by it, though he doesn’t request it for his own.  Anytime he points out that I have peanut butter on my Pop-Tart, I remind him, “This is how your Great-Granddaddy used to do it.  And it’s good!”

               Naturally, to me, the most significant way in which Joey exemplifies his descent from Granddaddy is through his love of music and his fascination with musical instruments.  In advance of his second Christmas, when he could really define things he wanted, all Joey would ask Santa to bring was “a guitar and a microphone.”  His priorities were clear and he never added to the list.  Joey stayed attached to his guitars and microphones in both his homes well after the Christmas trees were put away.  Not allowing this to simply be a fad, Joey named “an Elvis guitar” as one of the two things for which he asked the following year (last Christmas).  He likes other instruments too, but the guitar is tops in Joey’s world – just as it was for his Great-Granddaddy.  Granddaddy was a great picker and always appeared to be having the most fun when there was a guitar in his hand.  He got a lot of pleasure out of singing, too.  But an extra light went on when he held his Martin guitar and put it to work.  I think, to him that was the ultimate tool of a showman.  Joey seems to feel that way as well.  Whether Joey is actually strumming one of his guitars or simply holding it to feel “in the zone” while hearing a song or watching an Elvis movie, it is his ultimate accessory.  Joey also clearly loves to sing, and will follow along with any song he knows on a CD or movie before quoting the spoken lines.  For all the vocally and musically-talented individuals that can be counted among my mother’s family, I am nowhere near being one.  Granddaddy tried to teach me how to play guitar a couple times and, while I’m sorry I didn’t try more intently, I always maintained that I didn’t/don’t have the mental capacity for it.  I am glad to see, at least now, that Joey shows such potential.  Maybe he won’t be a practicing musician at all.  Maybe he will become a chart-topping professional.  If he does anything with music, I hope he will just follow in Granddaddy’s footsteps and use that talent and interest to bless and entertain others with a smile that floats from his mouth to the ears of others. 

               After realizing that Joey had become quite a fan of Ernest P. Worrell, my Grandmama once asked me, “Do you think Joey believes that Ernest is talking to your Granddaddy when he says ‘Hey Vern!’?”  I told her I didn’t think so, but that it was possible.  For a few months, during his most frequent Ernest viewing, Joey said and asked some things that suggested he might indeed have thought so.  Between the fact that I don’t commonly refer to Granddaddy as “Granddaddy Vernon” and that you can’t see the Vern that Ernest knows, that phase ended quickly and with little confusion.  I guess Vern was the ultimate viewer of Ernest’s life, though.  And, if folks in Heaven can look down over us here, then our Vernon (and even Ernest, in the form of the late great Jim Varney) may be watching Joey and me as we experience life together.  Whether he can see us now or not and regardless of the fact that Joey has never seen him in the flesh, Granddaddy is always around – in spirit and in memory and in how Joey brings him in front of us through all the little ways he “becomes him.”  I look forward to seeing my Granddaddy again someday.  But, I am happy to find him here so often through my son.  Perhaps it was fitting that hearing Elvis sing “He Touched Me” touched me so deeply after losing my Granddaddy in 2009.  Little did I know that a young Elvis devotee would bring part of Granddaddy back for me and keep “the day the music died” from being quite so final.