Sunset at Gun Lake

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A beautiful day and a warmer day. A day too nice to ignore. That’s what today has been, and the beginning of a warming trend, to boot. The snow has been melting on the balcony, and beneath the slanting, southerly light of a cloudless January sky, the birds were going absolutely nuts at the feeders earlier.

“Let’s take a drive,” I said to Lisa. She has been in the middle of a massive crocheting project, I’ve been sequestered inside my own head with various writing projects and

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weatherly explorations, and it seemed to me that it would do us both good to pull away for a little while and enjoy the remnant of the day.

So off we went with our cameras to Gun Lake fifteen miles to our south in northern Barry County to watch the sun set. I thought I’d share three of the photos I took there in the state park. Click on them to enlarge them.

The deer was one of three yearlings that were hanging out next to the park drive. They were preoccupied with foraging and appeared completely unconcerned about the tan Buick Century that had pulled up alongside them, or the human on the other side of the driver’s-side window who was busily snapping pictures.

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The bright orange blob is a parasail, and the guy to its left had just finished with an hour or so of snowboarding out on the frozen lake. As for the sunset, that’s self-explanatory. The one thing unique about it is the vantage point out on the Gun Lake ice, a perspective unavailable to me during the warm season.

With nothing bursting at the seams for me to write about either musically or weatherwise, I figured the photos would offer a pleasant diversion. A little splash of color to brighten a mid-winter day never hurts, right?

January 13, 2010 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Photography Tagged With: , , , , ,

Bird Song: Hearing Charlie Parker for the First Time

If there is one name that is synonymous with the alto saxophone, it’s Charlie Parker. For that matter, no jazz musician of any kind–saxophonist, trumpet player, bassist, pianist, you name it–can explore the craft without becoming keenly aware of, if not at some point deeply immersed in, the music of Bird. If Dizzy Gillespie was the clown prince of the bebop school, Charlie Parker was its pied piper, a quirky and unpredictable genius whose God-given creative torch burned too brightly to be quickly extinguished by the excesses that eventually overcame him.

Some jazz musicians grow up with Parker played regularly at home as a vital part of the musical ambiance. Others discover Parker’s music later in life. I fall into the latter category. Ours was not a particularly musical household, though Mom loved the Nutcracker Suite and Dad dug his Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith, and Sidney Bechet records.  My own musical tastes, once they began to develop, naturally tended toward the rock of the seventies, particularly art rock bands such as Jethro Tull, King Crimson, Yes, Genesis, and Pink Floydd.

I did have the advantage of playing in a big band beginning in the eighth grade. That experience gave me an invaluable exposure to the music of Basie and Ellington, and to the American songbook at large. But bebop? What was that?

Then came my first year at Aquinas College, and a course on modern music appreciation with Dr. Bruce Early. The class covered plenty of ground, as I recall, including the music of some of my favorite rock bands. Inevitably, we got into the various kinds of jazz, which was Bruce’s real thrust with the class. Dixieland I was familiar with, and as for big band swing, I had been playing that since junior high school. But suddenly, jazz began to take on deeper dimensions for me. And one day, Bruce dropped a record onto the turntable, and out of the speakers came the most unbelievable saxophone music I had ever heard. It was blazing. Brilliant. Blinding. Beautiful. Wild, yet–though I wouldn’t have thought of the description at the time–wonderfully logical.

That was my first exposure to Charlie Parker, and it left me stunned. How on earth could anyone play a saxophone like that?

I didn’t have ears enough to comprehend what it was that I had heard. I only knew that it pointed toward possibilities on the alto sax that I had never dreamed of. It was like stepping through a door out of a tiny room and discovering an entire mountain range on the other side.

Fortunately, I was too young and too dumb to feel utterly overwhelmed. That’s probably why I’m still playing the saxophone today. Some contemporaries of Parker weren’t so fortunate. I read of one saxophonist who, after hearing Bird in flight, pitched his horn into the river in despair. Today I understand that sentiment a little better–because, now that I’m more than twice as old as Parker was when he first lit his fire and greased his skillet, I still can’t cook the way he could. I have, however, learned a lot from him, and continue to learn.

If Bird hadn’t been given to the monstrous indulgences that eventually destroyed him, I wonder, as many musicians have wondered, what else he might have accomplished. Would bebop have been his apogee, his singular torch against whose sun-like flame all his future achievements would have paled? Or would it have been the spark to still brighter creative expressions? Dizzy is still with us; had Bird’s life been other than what it was, he might be here, too. But it wasn’t and he’s not, and all we can do is speculate on what might have been or might not have been–and absorb the alto saxophonist’s legacy. In the words of Charles Mingus, “If Charlie Parker was a gunslinger, there’d be a whole lot of dead copycats.”

January 11, 2010 by
Filed Under: Band, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

PubCrawler.com: A Guide for Storm Chasers Looking for Great Beer on the Great Plains

Next time I’m in Hays, Kansas, I hope to sample the India Pale Ale at the Lb. Brewing Company. Here’s what one reviewer had to say:

A very impressive establishment and such a nice draw (pun intended) for a town like Hays. I would highly recommend this pub to anyone looking for the best beer and food around. Gerald and his wife are to be commended for running an outstanding operation. The beer was fresh and it’s hard to believe that they can keep over 6 different types of beer flowing in a place like Hays. I tried the Pale Ale, the IPA, and the stout. All were top-notch but the IPA in the large Lb glass was simply outstanding! This is a unique but yummy IPA (hops were not as strong as traditional IPA and color was darker too). Great crafting here!

I had no idea such an establishment existed in Hays. For that matter, a nagging question these past couple of years has been, where can I go to get a decent beer in Tornado Alley?

It turns out that there are more options than I realized. Thanks to my sweetheart, Lisa–who knows that my love for fine ales runs, if not a close second to my passion for storm chasing, certainly no more than a stone’s throw away–I am now aware of an online resource that can help craft brewaphiles slake their thirst all across the nation, including places in the American heartland that I’d never have expected.

If you, like me, like to crown a successful chase with something more than a Bud with your steak, then check out this link to PubCrawler.com and bookmark it. Lisa forwarded it to me, and I quickly concluded that it’s a goldmine for road warriors who love beer. You’ll be delighted with what you find. No need for me to say more since the site is self-explanatory. You can thank me later.

January 7, 2010 by
Filed Under: Life, Reviews, Storm Chasing Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Blue Moon on New Year’s Eve

They call it a “blue moon”–a second full moon in the same month. It’s a rare occurrence in itself, but tonight’s blue moon will be all the more unusual because it’s occurring on New Year’s Eve. Now we’re talking about a REALLY rare event–once every 20 years, in fact.

But wait–it gets even better. This blue moon will also undergo a partial eclipse. Don’t get too hopped up about it, though. If you live in the northern hemisphere, you won’t be seeing it. Elsewhere in the world, though, in places far removed from my little old hometown of Caledonia, Michigan, sky watchers will get to witness the whole shebang: a blue moon eclipsing on New Year’s Eve.

Those of us who reside in Michigan, on the other hand, will be lucky if we get to see the moon at all. With snow in the forecast, it’s highly unlikely we’ll get so much as a fleeting glimpse.

Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing a New Year’s Eve blue moon. I hate to think I’ll have to wait another 20 years before I get my next crack at one.

Maybe there’ll be a rift in the clouds, just long enough to offer a quick glance.

My heart is hopeful and my fingers are crossed.

December 31, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Weather Tagged With: , ,

A Christmas Meditation on Jesus

Can it really be that I’ve experienced 53 Christmases?

Magical Christmases of my childhood, filled with anticipation and Santa Claus and toys. Conspiratorial Christmases of my older boyhood, wherein, having been initiated into the truth about Santa, I now assisted my parents in the clandestine placement of gifts under the tree. Teenage Christmases, tinged with both family warmth and family struggles. So many Christmases.

As I write, I’m wrestling with a nasty chest cold and am not in the frame of mind to write a lengthy, well-worded post. So I thought I’d share something with you from the past.

The following is something I wrote two years ago on Christmas Eve, 2007, in my MySpace blog. Many things have changed since then. Significantly, my beautiful best friend, Lisa, has entered my life, and I am no longer alone. But the essence of what I had to share back then hasn’t changed, not for me and very likely not for you, my reader. Without wasting more words, then, I give you…


Christmas Eve. As an older single male, age fifty-one and counting, I’m spending it alone.

I would like to say that in reality, I am not alone—and really, that is the case. My Lord is with me. Jesus.

But when it comes to polishing off a large bowl of chili (heated to a well-seasoned glow by a sub-lethal dose of Dave’s Insanity Sauce), followed by a generous helping of spaghetti, all designed to take the edge off a bottle of 9 percent ABV old ale and another bottle of 11.5 percent Trappist ale…well, the work has been strictly mine. No one sits with me in my humble, though comfortable, apartment to make supper and the partaking of craft brew a shared effort. I am by myself—as are many who will read these words.

Yet, as I have said, He is here. Here in these modest digs of a solitary, middle-aged male. And because He is here with me, I trust He is also there with you, wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be. Some of you are grieving the loss of a loved one. Others are simply experiencing, like me, another “single” Christmas Eve by yourself. You have friends, and if you’re fortunate, you have family, and you’re thankful. But there’s still something missing, isn’t there?

It’s all right. He is here with you and me. Emmanuel, “God with us.” And in a strange way, those of us who feel sorrow, or loneliness, or a poignant emptiness in this Season of Light, may be closest of all to the heart and soul of what Christmas is truly about.

For you see, that little baby who was born into the lowliest of circumstances two thousand years ago didn’t come for the sake of inspiring cozy traditions, or warm exchanges of gifts by the fireside, or happy family meals. No. Those things are wonderful, and I wouldn’t detract from them for anything. But their absence in the lives of so many of us lies closer to the reason Jesus was born. He came not because this world is so wonderful, but because it was, and is, so broken. He came for those of us who long for a place called “home.” He came for the lonely, for the disenfranchised, for less-than-perfect you and me who know firsthand the meaning of loss, and tears, and struggle; who long for something more in life. He came to give us that “something more.” He came because he knows how deeply we long—and need—to be truly, safely, securely, and lastingly loved.

I write with all the freedom that a couple bottles of high-potency ale can inspire, tempered by my editorial instincts and guided by my heart, which is consumed with Him. But who is He? In this day of well-publicized “new discoveries” of the same tired old heresies that have sought for centuries to recreate a more convenient Jesus, the marketplace of ideas abounds with options.

I just Googled the name “Jesus,” and on the first page of search results I find the following:

* three full-color graphic images of Jesus

* a Wikipedia article

* a “Christmas Jesus Dress Up”

* a YouTube clip of Jesus singing “I Will Survive”

* an online Catholic encyclopedia article on Jesus

* a  BBC news article that begins, “A statue of the infant Jesus on display near Miami in Florida is being fitted with a Global Positioning System device after the original figurine was stolen.”

Clever, all very clever. But when you’re alone on Christmas Eve, cleverness doesn’t really cut it, does it? For so many of us who are by ourselves tonight, the one thing we long to know is that we’re really not alone. The older we get, the more that matters.

So perhaps, after we’ve wearied our clever minds exploring all the alternatives, the Jesus of the Bible really is what we’re looking for after all—because of all the gods available in today’s spiritual shopping mall, He is the only one who has come looking for us in a way that is consistent with someone who cares not about religion, but about us. To  be born in our midst and commit a lifetime to experiencing everything about the human condition, from inglorious start to brutal finish, certainly smacks of a genuine and very personal investment.

Christmas is God’s way of acknowledging what all of us instinctively know (though we try so hard to argue otherwise): that this world is fractured, splintered. That we are lonely. That we are lost. That we long for something more.

Christmas is God’s way of saying, “My loved ones have lost me, and I have lost them. And that is unacceptable to me.”

This Christmas…you are not alone. I am not alone.

Jesus came for us.

If you’ve screwed up your relationships, Jesus came for you.
If you’ve been sexually abused, Jesus came to clothe you with dignity and hope.
If you’re lonely, He came to give you a place at the family table.
If you’ve been betrayed or abandoned, He came to hold you gently with arms that will not be removed.
If you’re_______, He came to fill in the blank with something better than emptiness.

This Christmas…we are deeply loved.

So to you, my friends, however you may believe and whatever your circumstances may be…

May He fill this time with the reality, the glory, and the comfort of Himself…

Have a blessed Christmas.

Storm

December 24, 2009 by
Filed Under: Church Worship, Life, Relationships Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

The First Day of Winter

As far as East Coasters are concerned, with 26 inches of snow falling on Long Island in yesterday’s blizzard, winter has already arrived. For that matter, here in Michigan, you’d be hard put to convince anyone otherwise when it comes to the practical sense of the word winter. Look outside and what do you see? Snow, and lots of it. Sure looks like winter to me, and has looked that way for a good month.

But today at 12:57 a.m. EST–less than three hours from now as I write these words–winter will become official. That is the precise minute of the winter solstice, the time when the sun reaches its southernmost position over the Tropic of Capricorn and begins its journey back north. From then on, the slow but steady pilgrimage toward spring will be underway.

In my hometown of Caledonia, according to my sunrise/sunset calendar, the sun rose today at 8:09 a.m. and will set at 5:11 p.m. EST. That gives us nine hours and two minutes of daylight on the shortest day of the year. From this point, we’ll struggle a bit trying to add those extra, tiny increments of daylight. The sun will set a little later each day, but it will also continue to rise a little later for a while, nibbling away another four minutes of dawn until January 7. That’s the day when, after tipping above the horizon at 8:13 a.m. for seven days straight–the sun will finally rise at 8:12. We’ll have added a minute in the morning and, by then, 14 minutes in the evening–a total of 15 minutes. By the end of January, we’ll have gained 58 minutes of  daylight.

Gray and cold though today may be, with a light snow falling steadily outside my deck door, winter solstice is nevertheless a welcome landmark. Its frozen arrival portends the lengthening of light and the certainty of spring. And this one comes with a visit from my brother Patrick, whom I haven’t seen in several years. It’s wonderful to see him; a more welcome Christmas gift I couldn’t ask for.

Whatever the winter brings–and with a strong El Nino in force, it could be a doozy for many–today is the time when the forces that conspire to create snow, ice, and bitter cold begin to lose their logistics. Winter’s batteries may presently be charged to the max, but the countdown to storm season is about to begin.

December 21, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

The Trouble with Reading Glasses: A Jazz Saxophonist’s Lament

Reading glasses suck.

No, let me restate that: Reading glasses are a boon, but having to wear them sucks. And it particularly sucks, sucks to the fourth power, when one is trying to read big band charts on a bandstand.

Am I the only horn player who has this problem? I seriously doubt it.

I go through reading glasses like they’re M&Ms chocolate-covered peanuts. I buy them, lose them, buy them, lose them. So I get the cheapest ones I can find–I mean, reeeaally cheap, $1.99 glasses which I purchase at Ace Hardware in Hastings. They do the job just fine for most purposes, but playing in a big band is not “most purposes.” It’s a purpose set apart that poses some peculiar problems.

For one thing, those classy, low-slung bandstands which are so much a part of the big band tradition place the music a couple feet away and well below my natural line of vision. I compensate by scroonching forward and down in a manner that would inspire admiration in a circus contortionist.  This gets me closer to the music, allowing me to read it.

Most of it, that is. There comes a point, as I approach the bottom of a chart, where the music dips below the frame of my glasses, and I’m confronted with a decision whether to scroonch even farther–and believe me, four hours of scroonching in this manner does nothing to improve either my posture or my attitude–or else attempt to read the remainder of the page without the assistance of lenses.

Now, my vision isn’t so bad that option B isn’t feasible, at least in theory, but a funny–though not knee-slappingly so–thing happens when I attempt it: I lose my place in the music.

This leaves me frantically scrambling to find my place while the rest of the band chugs merrily onward. Eventually, Eric or Hugh or whoever is playing tenor next to me points to a spot on my chart, and I dive back in with varying levels of success, depending on my familiarity with the arrangement. It’s frustrating and embarrassing.

Life would be so much easier if I could trade the bandstand for a good, old-fashioned music stand which adjusts easily for height and distance. Get those charts right smack in front of my eyeballs, where I can read them without the aid of a telescope, and I’d be fine. But no, that’s not how it works, not with a big band, where low-rise bandstands are integrally woven into the mystique.

That, my friends, is why I emerge from big band gigs with the posture of a Cheeto. Reading-glasses-induced scroonching is doing me in.

I may be a well-maintained 53 years old, but I’m still 53. That’s not old enough yet to qualify as a curmudgeon, but there are times when I come pretty close, and an entire evening of imitating a hunchback is one of them.

So why do I continue to put up with the frustrations and, in all seriousness, the physical discomfort? Because I enjoy playing the music. I’m not primarily a big band musician; my natural habitat, where I really spread my wings and fly, is small combos. But I came up through big bands, and I’m glad for the opportunity to still play the great old arrangements from time to time. I mean, you can’t get a better jazz education than you’ll find in the music of Duke and Basie, you know? That’s why I continue to pay the cost of tuition.

There’s no problem with the library, none whatever. I just wish I could find some reading glasses that would enable me to read the books without a hitch from cover to cover.

December 19, 2009 by
Filed Under: Band, Humor, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone Tagged With: , , , , ,

Bundling Up for a Michigan Blizzard

As I begin this post, around 5:20 p.m. EST, the KGRR metar shows a temperature of 35 degrees here in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Not far to the southwest, though, closing in on Chicago, northeast Illinois is giving reads of around 20 degrees. The backside of the low pressure system that has brought us a

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wintry mix is preparing to bring considerably colder temperatures down upon us, wrapping in from the northwest and west as the low lifts up into Canada.

So far, conditions really haven’t been bad at all, certainly not as bad as the scenario the NWS has painted with a blizzard warning commencing at 1:00 p.m. But I’m sure the weather will worsen; it’s just a matter of time. The guys at the local WFO have the unenviable  task of forewarning the public of potentially lethal winter conditions without coming up looking like goobers when the blob of Jello-O they’ve got to nail to the wall doesn’t entirely cooperate. Predicting severe warm-season weather is tough enough, but forecasting winter weather is a whole different kettle of fish entirely, and my guess is, it’s a harder one to get right.

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Anyway, here’s what’s presently sitting on top of us here in Michigan. The topmost image is a 2200Z map showing current pressure and wind barbs. The bottom one is a level 2 radar grab with metars. Click on the images to enlarge them. They depict conditions at the time of the evening commute, which aren’t too bad; they also indicate what’s on the way, which isn’t too good. We are gonna get socked, methinks. But that’s okay. Lisa and I have got a couple Christmas movies to watch, good beer, plenty of food, the warmth of each others’ company, and the blessing of the Lord’s presence in our humble but comfortable apartment. Really, it doesn’t get much better than this.

December 9, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Major Winter Storm on the Way for the Great Lakes

It starts out as a relatively small, innocuous-looking low straddling the California and Nevada border, but by Wednesday afternoon, look out. It’s no longer out west and it’s no longer meek and mild-mannered. According to

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today’s 12Z NAM, it’s perched squarely over Michigan, and with a sea level pressure of 976 mbs at 18Z and continuing to deepen, it’s downright ugly. (Click image to enlarge.)

El Nino, Schmell Nino–we are in for one heck of a Great Lakes bomb. The NWS office here in Grand Rapids is calling for a wintry mix in my area changing to all snow, and nothing but snow starting just a little farther north. Wherever you live in the western Great Lakes, though, Wednesday and Thursday are not going to be pleasant. Get set for a one-two punch of winter precip followed by a windy blast of very cold air wrapping around the back of the low as it tracks northeast into Canada, intensifying on the way.

Time to stock up on supplies. Unless you’re a winter weather freak, Wednesday is not going to be a pretty picture.

December 7, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Outdoors, Weather Tagged With: , , , , ,

You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown

This post is a continuation off of the previous one. Last night was the final night of the stage musical “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown” in Hastings. The show enjoyed a decent and enthusiastic turnout. Today, as I reflect on it, I want to say what a truly impressive job the young actors turned out. These small-town high school kids rendered an absolutely stellar performance, and it was a privilege for me to have played a small part in making it happen.

What I saw onstage clearly reflected a lot of talent, dedication, focus, hard work, enthusiasm, and friendship and mutual supportiveness among the cast. The result was not merely a superb production, but also a joyous one, and, frankly, a touching one as I consider the network of human relationships that lay behind it.

To any of the teen performers who happen to read this post: Bravo! Splendidly done! Charlie Brown, Linus, Lucy, Snoopy, Sally, Schroeder–each of you did a fantastic job. I’m well aware that there were plenty of others who helped make it happen–supporting cast, stage help, directors, and so on. My congratulations and appreciation goes to you all.

God bless each of you. Enjoy the afterglow of a magnificent show–and have a wonderful Christmas.

December 6, 2009 by
Filed Under: Entertainment, Event, Life, Music, Reviews Tagged With: , , ,
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