Whoa-oh, listen to the music...
2/2/2010 11:00:06 AM
... but not the Doobie Brothers. At least not today.
I awoke today to see another day of gray and snow. It's getting a little oppressive, this hazy shade of winter. (Look around, leaves are brown, there's a TON of snow on the ground...)
It's easy to let the winter blues consume you. It started happening to me today as I made a pot of coffee. I had that nagging "why bother" question floating around up there, but after a cup or two of coffee, I was OK. I tried to immerse myself in apathetic music, stuff that would fire up that angst I was suddenly battling.
While drinking my coffee, I started imagining my aunt and uncle's place in San Diego, how it's probably flawless there today: a mild wind, maybe low 60s, sunny sky. I pictured Pacific Beach, cold beers on warm nights and sea lions.
Then I looked outside again. The only sand I saw was what had been put on top of the layer of ice, in between the seven inches of snow.
Sigh.
But unbeknownst to me, Oklahoma was planning a surprise attack on California dreamin'.
On my way in to the World, surrounded by grey snow blobs and tapered glaciers hanging off eaves of houses, I was whisked away to the Oklahoma I know and love.
At least in my mind.
It goes a little something like this:
"There's a full moon over Tulsa, I hope that it's shinin' on you
The nights are getting colder in Cherokee County, there's a blue northern passin' through…"
And just like that, with the help of David Frizzell and Shelly West's "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma," I forgot (momentarily) about this long, cold winter we're having and remembered that sunshine and heat-related thunderstorms aren't far off.
Despite what that stupid groundhog saw.
'Pants on the Ground,' in the style of Brett Favre
1/18/2010 3:40:00 PM
I didn't enjoy Brett Favre's performance on Sunday, but mostly because he and his Viking ilk were beating the tar out of my Cowboys.
But I'm still happy for the Vikings, and try as I might to hate Favre, I can't.
Actually, I like him more after he sang "Pants on the Ground," an original song from this season's second episode of "American Idol." In the original, Gen. Larry Platt sings his own anti-homage to slackin' drawers. The lyrics:
"Pants on the ground
Pants on the ground
Lookin' like a fool with your pants on the ground!
With the gold in your mouth
Hat turned sideways
Pant hit the ground
Call yourself a cool cat."
Favre didn't sing the whole song, but he did rattle off a few bars, and former University of Oklahoma star Adrian Peterson (to the left in the video) sure got a kick out of it.
But it was the only highlight of that game I enjoyed.
Here you go:
Leon Russell page keeps on growing
1/15/2010 2:47:56 PM
A Facebook group I created on Wednesday, "Name a Downtown Street after Leon Russell," is up to 860 members as of 2:45 p.m. on Friday.
Wow. Thanks so much for joining. People have some really good ideas on how we should honor the Master of Space and Time, as well. Go online and check it out for yourself, if you have a Facebook profile. Type this into your browser: tulsaworld.com/leonstreet, or go to Facebook and search for "Name a Downtown Street after Leon Russell." That's a great number of people, but WE WANT MORE!!!
Leave a comment on what you think would be a good tribute. I'm keeping an eye on it, and we don't plan on letting this die.
Last we heard, Leon is still recovering from surgery, and is doing fine. We'll let you know if we hear anything else.
Wipe off that angel face and go back high school...
12/30/2009 11:58:34 AM
It's not Sandy or Danny from "Grease" whose songs get in my head, but Frankie Avalon's serenade to Frenchie, "Beauty School Dropout." |
One of my brain's go-to songs is "Beauty School Dropout" from the "Grease" soundtrack. It's playing nonstop in my head today, and I often find those tumbling strings and tapping piano hijacking my background noise. I've never understood why.
It's probably because the "Grease" soundtrack ruled my childhood before I discovered British new wave. My parents had it on eight-track, and I remember performing complicated (so I thought) dance numbers to the songs, playing the songs ad nauseum, and watching to movie to further embed them in my psyche.
I always felt sorry for Frenchie, because she seemed like a nice girl, and she certainly was the only girl nice to Sandy (though I think Rizzo is awesome too, in a different way). But when Frankie Avalon appears in spangles of light in Frenchie's daydream, and then the rest of the girls from the cast show up with their hair piled high in silver curlers, I always get sentimental. It's one of my favorite scenes from the movie.
I remember not knowing what Frankie meant with the phrase "Well they couldn't teach you anything/You think you're such a looker/But no customer would go to you unless she was a hooker!" But now I get it, and it's funny. As a kid, I just felt sorry for Frenchie.
That's the beauty of "Grease." You have no idea when you're a kid that the lyrics are deceptively dirty, especially "Greased Lightening." But I love the whole soundtrack, and it still reminds me of performing dance acts with my sisters in our living room, prancing around like a grown-up.
It's a classic movie, and the soundtrack obviously has lasting appeal. I might have to rent it over the weekend.
Until next time, gotta get goin' to that malt shop in the sky…
Joy & pain: Carrie Underwood engaged, Brittany Murphy dies
12/21/2009 2:22:00 PM
It's a mix of joy and sadness in Hollywood today.
First, the good news. Our own Carrie Underwood is gettin' hitched to Ottawa Senators forward Mike Fisher. I guess I'm supposed to ignore the fact that her name could be (if she chose to change it) Carrie Fisher. I think her wedding should have a Star Wars theme.
On the sad side, Brittany Murphy died Sunday. She was 32, younger than me. I just mentioned her in passing to Scene Editor Mark Brown on Friday afternoon, because for some reason we were talking about Skeeter Davis. I said, "Skeeter Davis sang that song from 'Girl, Interrupted,' that was playing when Brittany Murphy's character was hanging herself." That song was "End of the World" by Skeeter Davis. And yes, I feel somewhat responsible for whatever killed her by mentioning her name.
What worries me is that now, prescription drugs have entered the picture. I hope her story doesn't have a drug-fueled ending. She seemed like such a radiant beam of light. I loved her in "Drop Dead Gorgeous," where she played a beauty pageant contestant with a gay brother she idolized. In the end, she gave up her spot in the pageant to help a friend in need. I think that's probably what she was really like.
If you ask me, Carrie's news is some of the best I've heard all year. What a poopy year it's been for everyone, from the rich and famous to the poor and unknown. I sure hope next year is better.
The End of the Decade: Gone and nearly forgotten
12/15/2009 4:38:00 PM
You may notice a banner on top of the tulsaworld.com home page about the end of the decade and filling out a survey. We know, purists, 2000 didn’t count and we're not supposed to say that the new millennium started until 2001. But that's just not any fun.
The 2000s are over as of Dec. 31, 2009. The Aughts. The Naughty Aughties. The No-Name Decade. I wanted to call our section "The X Files," but no one went with it. (X = 10, duh!)
We urge you (demand is such a strong word) to fill out the questionnaire by clicking on said banner. We promise it won't take long.
So here's how the whole thang went down: I was in a meeting with our web team a month or so ago, and Jason Collington, our web editor, mentioned the decade coming to an end this year, to which I very maturely said NUH-UH! We've got another year on that! To which he responded UH-HUH! It'll be OVER and WE'VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING!
We went back and forth like that for a while. It's what we do.
But I finally relented that 10 years will have passed since Y2K and that, I guess, meant the decade was ending.
My mind started scrambling. I came up with a quick plan for the Scene department, one which our executive editor Joe Worley decided to spin into a newsroom-wide project that had a very short fuse.
Assignment City. Big-time pressure added during the already-short-rostered holidays.
Needless to say, I've gotten some hateful sneers from other editors whom I've piled work upon with my "ideas." But they realize (I hope for the sake of my non-slashed tires) that the work is necessary. And they'll do a great job, because, well, they're good.
But how did the end of the decade sneak up on us like that? All we talked about in 1999 was this New Millennium. We even all learned how to spell it.
Anyway, there will be plenty to rediscover over the next few weeks, from our daily feature on A2 of the main news section, to our all-out blowout on Dec. 27.
While doing some investigating for the upcoming projects, I was reminded of some pretty awful and awesome stories. For starters, Scott Eizember. Remember him? That guy who went on a murder spree and then lived in the forest, possibly surviving on berries and bark?
Or the runaway bride in Duluth, Ga., who faked her won kidnapping to get out of marrying her fiancé?
Or what about the lack-of-talent/waste of space Hollywood set we've had the last decade: Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears… and on, and on, and on.
It's not been a great decade, and I'm looking forward to the new one. Regardless of when it really starts.
But in the meantime, keep checking out our look-back features until our blowout on Dec. 27. It was sorta-kinda my idea, and for that, my co-editors, I'm sorry. To the readers, you're welcome, and we all hope you enjoy!
Danny Cahill: Biggest Loser, and a wonderful man
12/9/2009 4:02:00 PM
Danny Cahill is as good as advertised.
I spoke with him during a teleconference on Wednesday afternoon, the day after he won the title of "Biggest Loser" and $250,000.
I found myself nervous to talk to him. Don't know why. I just was. But as soon as he addressed my question, I warmed up, and his casual manner and wonderful demeanor shined through the phone lines.
I wrote a story about his teleconference.  Click here for that'n.
But I couldn't in the space provided tell you what he's really like. He's exactly as you saw on TV: Intense, emotional, kind, gracious. In other words, an Oklahoman all the way. He made me laugh several times, with his honesty as well as candor. He revealed that he and his wife will have weigh-ins at their home every Saturday morning, and that he used only safe methods to reach his goal weight of 191.
The man weighed 430 pounds just over six months ago. Now, he could be a fashion model. On top of being what seems like a great person, he's a pretty good-lookin' man, too. WTG, Mrs. Cahill!
I told you a few times on the phone, Danny, but congratulations, and thanks for the great season of the show. Even if you wouldn't have been a local boy, I'd have had a hard time NOT rooting for you.
It was a pleasure to watch.
Kings of Leon have a great resume and staying power
12/8/2009 2:55:00 PM
The Kings of Leon. COURTESY |
I will follow the Followills anywhere they go.
Kings of Leon, composed of three Followill brothers and a Followill cousin, have slowly made their way to the mainstream over the past few years. Heck, the other day I heard "Use Somebody" on K-Hits, which I thought only played hip hop. I did a double-take when I heard a REAL guitar on that station, rather than a manufactured beat!
Kings of Leon -- formed in 1999 with brothers Caleb, Nathan and Jared Followill and cousin Matthew, first popped on my musical radar in 2006 when I was still working nights in Sports. A co-worker slipped me a Kings of Leon disc that contained most of their first two albums, "Youth and Young Manhood" and "Aha Shake Heartbreak." I was instantly hooked and knew they had potential.
I thought the Kings would be big-deal big in no time. Instead, there fame has crept up slowly, but I think it's here to stay. And it's a band we can be proud of, too, as Oklahomans. Two of the brothers, Nathan and Matthew, were born in Oklahoma City. They pay homage (sorta) to their early travelin' days in Oklahoma in the secret song on "Youth and Young Manhood," "Talihina Sky." Here's the chorus:
"But everybody says this place is beautiful
And you'd be so crazy to say goodbye
But everything's the same this town is pitiful
And I'll be gettin' out as soon as I can fly"
Life goes by on a Talihina sky…"
Here's something else interesting: They traveled the South in a purple Oldsmobile with their preacher father who went by Leon, participating in tent revivals and the like. They have a lot of sexual innuendo in their songs, but stay fairly clean if you can handle that. And what's rock 'n' roll without a bit of rebel?
After my first Kings of Leon burned disc became worn down by my horrible habit of throwing CDs on the floorboard of my car, I bought all the albums on iTunes, including their EP, "Holy Roller Novocain," which has a killer title track that sounds like bad-boy gospel you aren't supposed to listen to if you're a good girl.
I'm not trying to sound like a complete music snob, but I really did know them before they were stars. But in the words of The Beatles, "Now she's hit the big-time/In the U.S.A." And I still like them. Their new album "Only By the Night" is receiving mega-praise, and the lads with Oklahoma backgrounds and tent revivals not so far away in their rear-view mirrors, it's a pleasure to see them succeed. They're up for four Grammy awards for their new effort.
I wish the Grammy committee would retroactively honor them for their stellar first three albums too – but if they stay together long enough, maybe they'll be honored for a lifetime of achievement instead. They're that good.
Kiss: Record stores, "3-2-1 Contact" and childhood
12/7/2009 2:35:00 PM
All this talk of Kiss reminds me of days when you could buy records at Sound Warehouse.
Kiss was on Casablanca Records, which had this great design on the center of the albums. Sound Warehouse in Muskogee was my favorite place in the world in the 1980s. Tapes lined the walls and the aisles were full of records.
They put stickers on the back of cassettes to show you the date your purchased it. I still write the date I purchased a CD on the liner notes. I know, I'm weird.
I had a lot of Kiss on vinyl: Kiss, Kiss Alive I and II, Destroyer and Love Gun. I had Dynasty and a few others on tape, then got Double Platinum on CD. I bought Ace Frehley's solo disc on tape and CD, and it's part of my weekly rotation. It's one of the best albums of all time.
In the digital age, I've purchased several songs via iTunes, namely bits and pieces of albums I didn't know well, such as "Saint and Sinner" from the album Creatures of the Night.
I have most of Kiss' catalog in one format or another, and I go on tears where it's all I want to hear. Ace's "Shock Me" is one of my favorite songs of all time.
I was introduced to Kiss at a very young age. The band was featured on "3-2-1 Contact!" in "The Making of a Kiss Show," with the song "King of the Nightime World" featured prominently and "Black Diamond" at the end. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen.
I think I was 5.
My mom had to pull me away from the comics part of the magazine rack at TG&Y and wouldn't let me have the Kiss comic book. I remember a Kiss pinball machine at one of Muskogee's stores that my mother also kept me away from. She refused to buy me any albums.
But I remember one cold day in December in probably 1986 when she let me go into Sound Warehouse by myself. I bought "Destroyer" with Christmas money and played it over and over again. My favorite song was "Sweet Pain," followed by "Do You Love Me?"
I still love Kiss. And that's the sign of a great, great band. They can put you back in the spot where you first fell for them, make you remember that feeling so clearly it's like you're reliving it.
I am not going to the Kiss show at the BOK, I don't think. I can't fathom seeing them without Ace. But the closer the show gets, the more I think I made a bad decision. Tickets are still available, so who knows? I might change my mind.
If you're going, let me know how it was.
Oh and here's that 3-2-1 Contact bit from YouTube.
My dog Leon is home, now I know I'm not ready for kids
12/4/2009 1:22:00 PM
Leon Russell Hart after he got his second cast. I know, he looks pathetic. But it's cute, too. SARAH HART/Tulsa World |
I don't have kids. So what I'm about to say may make you parents roll your eyes.
But having an invalid dog is really, really hard.
I wrote last week that my dog Leon was missing. Thanks to an Internet posting read by a man named John, he's now back home. John identified Leon from a picture I posted, and gave an exact location. John told me in an email that Leon was injured.
I left work in a hurry, went to where John said he'd spotted Leon, and within an hour he was home. Not well, but home.
He ate a bowl of food, then he went to the vet, where he was promptly diagnosed with a broken radius in his right front leg. That's the lower bone on the right side, and it was so broken it had to be surgically put back together with metal pins.
That was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. He had to stay at the vet's until Saturday for convalescing.
I picked him up Saturday night. I had set up a pen for him to sleep in, doctor's orders, and he had one of the Mark of Shame lampshade collars on. (Vets call them "Elizabethan Collars," FYI).
He came home freaked out, casted and ready to run. Of course, I had to put him in the pen, and he stayed freaked out. He panted and panted the entire night, but I left him in the collar.
The next night, he looked really uncomfortable and I felt sorry for him and took the collar off.
Bad idea.
The next morning, the cast was shredded. I had to take him back to the vet for a new cast. He's worn the collar since.
But he made it a habit to slam his collar into the pen, making a huge racket. And he won't Do His Business on a leash in the front yard, so the pen was where he'd go. After the third night in the pen, I was up every hour, changing bedding and putting down more paper. I swear, he'd held his pee just for that evening.
He was out of his routine, out of his element, and I was going crazy.
I came home Tuesday night to a stinky house and an unpleasant dog. I finally relented and let him out of the pen and came up with a plan to get him to his backdoor element.
Great idea: I hope.
I keep him on the leash, but let him go outside with the leash tethered inside the house, so he can have some privacy to Do His Biz.
So far, so good. Sorta. The household messes are on the decline, but not totally gone. He wants to be left off the leash for Biz No. 2. I don't feel great about that. We're working on that one.
Plus, I have to put a plastic bag over his cast so it doesn’t get wet. I finally just put a bag on his foot and a sock over it. He's been wearing two socks (a Spongebob Squarepants sock, to be exact) to cover the cast and keep him warm and dry outside.
I realized this week that even though I know kids and dogs are different, if I can't handle a dog with a broken leg, a screaming baby may not be in my near future. And since my babymakin' days aren't as bountiful as they once were, maybe I'll just refrain.
I'll just get more dogs. And teach them to use the bathroom on a leash. Lesson learned.
Using the bloggy pulpit: Can you help me find my dog Leon?
11/23/2009 3:01:00 PM
Here's my Leon, in the corner of my living room. He loves corners.
SARAH HART/Tulsa World |
I don't mean to use the bloggy pulpit for personal business.
But I can't stop thinking about my dog, Leon, who ran off yesterday afternoon for reasons I can't understand. I know I wouldn't run away from two treats a night, a steady food supply and the occasional scraps. Not to mention the deluxe velour dog beds (yes, plural) he has in my house.
But I'm not a dog, and I don't think like a dog. All I know is, my dog, a blue heeler/lab mix, a white dog with black spots, wearing a red collar, left my back yard yesterday afternoon and didn't return.
We walk a lot, so I'd hoped to find him on our usual trail. No dice. I looked all night, driving through the neighborhood screaming his name until I was hoarse. I went to bed without the dog for the first time in six years.
I can't stop thinking about it. I sent my brother to the pound to see if Leon was there, but the pound isn't open Mondays. I didn't know that. We'll check again tomorrow. I made fliers to put up all over my neighborhood. I called the vets offices nearby. I registered him on Craigslist and the Tulsa SPCA site, tulsapets.com.
I don't mean to go on and on. But it's just an awful feeling knowing something you've loved and cared for is running around town unleashed.
If you've seen a dog in the East Tulsa area fitting my description, please email me at sarah.hart@tulsaworld.com. I promise to return the favor in the bloggy pulpit.
Sinuses: Nature's joke
11/20/2009 10:39:00 AM
Why do we have sinuses?
Don't answer me, anatomy junkies. It's a rhetorical question. But keeping up the rhetoric, why do we need all these holes in our head, waiting to be filled with some substance that not only kills our party mood, but also makes us snore like our grandpas, sleep all the time and have no desire to work out?
I started coming down with what I thought was a mild cold last Thursday after a solid week of five days straight at the gym. I was feeling good, feeling my metabolism increase, feeling my clothes clinging less.
I went to bed early Thursday night, hoping to stave off any plague that might be entering my body.
It mattered little. I awoke Friday hovering above death. But I knew I had to work because Friday is one of the busiest days in the newsroom. I knew if I called in, the guilt would be worse than the illness.
But I was a big whiny baby most of the day and ended up going home early. I laid around all weekend, thinking I was getting better. I went to a child's birthday party on Saturday (keeping a far distance from all the squirmy 3-year-olds in case I had the Swine Fever) and was exhausted an hour in.
The cold/death rattle accelerated Sunday. At church, I hacked and coughed throughout the singing. I went home and collapsed, clinging to the hope that I'd feel better for work Monday. I gave that hope up around 8 p.m., called the bosses and surrendered, and went to bed for about 15 hours.
Monday, it relented late in the evening. I went to work Tuesday feeling great, but still tired. Wednesday, my ears closed up and exhaustion returned. That is still going on Friday morning, though it seems to have receded a bit. I realize now it's a sinus issue, because it comes and goes, gives me hope of health and then drops me on my face when I'm feeling bold.
So, long and boring story short, I see no need for sinuses. I hate them. Just another hole in our head, and you know we don't need anymore of those.
And if I have to have them, maybe we should invent flip-top heads so we can take ourselves to the car wash and give our sinuses a good cleaning once a year. I think that could be a multi-million dollar industry.
Just an idea.
Embarrassing saga: My love of 'Twilight' proves I'm immature
11/11/2009 2:42:00 PM
SWOON! Robert Pattinson from the "Twilight" saga. ASSOCIATED PRESS |
Approaching the weekend before the biggest movie of the year for squealing teenage girls, I feel as though I must confess something.
I'm 35 and I love the "Twilight" series. I love Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen. I am in the camp of Edward, not the lair of Jacob. The inner teenager in me swoons when Pattinson is on TV.
And I hate it. I guess I'm at that age when I know I should be more mature, shouldn't swoon at movie stars and made-up characters, but the whole Twilight phenomenon is easier to catch than H1N1.
I know plenty of women who've gotten sucked into this romantic teen fiction. Men have hence been ruined for them, because no real man can live up to Stephanie Myer's Edward. I didn't expect to be among that camp. But now, Pattinson IS Edward, and my mind is having a hard time untangling the two. It's like I'm 13 again.
I borrowed the first book on a whim, looking for something to read. I consumed it in 12 hours. During the next two months, I devoured the other three books, staying up past my bedtime for nights on end to enter the World of the Cullens.
But me? How did this happen to ME?
See, I thought I was way too tough for this. I thought I was grizzled and wizened. I thought working in the newspaper industry, as well as being a product of the grungy 90s and being an all-around sarcastic, surly girl, killed all my girly fantasies of being swept off my feet and into the arms of a One True Love.
Suffice it to say it hasn't happened yet -- that whole swept off my feet thing -- but dang it if these books didn't defrost my Romance Sensors.
Plus, I was an English major! I minored in Shakespeare! I shouldn't be reading this, much less enjoying it as much as I did!
But sometimes, you have to suspend your intellect and go with what feels right.
The "Twilight" books are over-the-top, Gothic, read-in-one-night romances featuring the bad guy who's really a prince. Perfect! That's what all us girls want. The bad guy who's crazy about us and only us, the guy that only we can understand, the one who does something unforgivable but can only truly be forgiven by us.
I'll be the first to admit that women don't make sense.
And I'll also admit, as my friend and co-worker Jennifer Chancellor just pointed out, that Edward and Bella's relationship is possibly unhealthier than Romeo and Juliet's. We shouldn't try to emulate those two.
But it's fun to live in this land of make-believe for a moment or two, even if I know it means I'm not a grown-up. I'm actually quite happy about that.
I won't be going to see "Twilight: New Moon" the week it comes out. I may be immature, but I'm too old to tolerate tittering girls for nearly two hours. I'll go during a matinee, when the movie is about three weeks old. And I'll probably enjoy every minute of it.
More on Christmas, or How I Don't Hate the Holidays
11/10/2009 1:30:00 PM
In the Monday newspaper, I wrote a guest column concerning a few radio stations playing Christmas music before November was even here.
I got quite a few comments from readers, mostly supportive. These are people who love Christmas, but don't want to celebrate it, as one reader said, "for 1/6th of the year."
Some readers have questioned my love of Christmas and if I truly understand what traditional Christmas is all about.
Due to space constraints on Monday, I wasn't able to get into a lot of what I wanted to in that column. So if you will, allow me room to expound.
I lost my mother in 2003 in a house fire. She was also the main organizer of Christmas activities in my life. I'm from a divorced family, so she and my dad always worked out what state I'd spend the holidays in. My mom led the decorating charge (which always began AFTER Thanksgiving, Thank You Very Much) and she always allowed my hand-made ornaments to go in the front, even if they were as ugly as homemade soap.
Mom always bought at least a 15-foot tree and covered it with ornate ornaments and bows. She rehung everything I hung on the tree. She assembled ceramic villages of Mr. and Mrs. Santas, Frostys and Elves. She frosted the windows. She was a master electrician (and plumber, but that's a separate blog) and once she rewired our living room with tiny twinkling lights.
My mother was a woman of impeccable class and taste, but she always hung this awful Santa on our front gate made from what appeared to be recycled tires covered with spray paint. He had a beautiful smile.
I loved that Santa. "Christmas is a time to let the tacky out," she'd say. I guess that's the only tacky thing she had. Or, if you're a snob, you may consider it tacky that she always used multi-colored lights rather than those bland white ones. I thought it looked perfect, and I still use them.
Since Mom died, Christmas is definitely different. For one reason, the past six years or so, I've worked nights and holidays for the paper you're reading. I didn't mind working on Christmas, mostly. It was a way to NOT have to face the holidays without my mom. But this year, I'm on a daytime schedule again, and I get holidays off. Plus, my younger brother is now living with me, and I want to regenerate the Christmas Spirit in our household that our mother embodied in her quirky, fun, anal-retentive way.
So I'm going to have to channel my mom and become that person. But I need to ease into it. The tree will go up after Thanksgiving (still my favorite holiday). It will be decorated with my mom's spirit in mind, but probably without her deft, adept touch. But I'm going to do my best.
The tree probably won't have many or ANY gifts under it. The last few years haven't been easy, and I'm not about to ask my family to spend money on me when I don't have it to spend on them!
A few years ago, since I was working nights and Mom was gone, my sisters and I decided to hold a "Kids Christmas" on the 27th or 28th of December. For the record, I have four sisters and a brother, and getting them all together isn't possible. But we do what we can, and it's become a second Christmas, with cousins, step-cousins, twice-removed cousins and step-step-step siblings. I say, if you can claim 'em, make 'em your family.
The Kids Christmas became a huge success, and we did gifts for a while, but now it's just an excuse to make a really big dinner, eat, drink and pick on each other. It's a lot of fun.
I guess it's nontraditional; I couldn't tell you. Nothing in my life has ever been traditional. What I've come to expect year in and year out is change wrapped with a knowledge that the idea of a "traditional" Christmas is completely random. Who can say that your version is better or worse than mine? It's all in the eye of the beholder, I guess.
So to sum up what has become a lengthy blog, yes, I like Christmas. I even like Christmas music a whole lot. My favorite song is "O, Holy Night," which moves me to tears every time. So yeah, I must have Christmas spirit, if the spirit of what it's really about chokes me up.
Happy Holidays! Take it slowly. Relish each moment. Enjoy your personal traditions. And hug your mothers.
All that U2 left behind
10/21/2009 12:44:00 PM
Bono sings with U2at Gaylord Family at Memorial Stadium in Norman. SARAH PHIPPS/The Oklahoman |
The question of the week around the newsroom has been, "Where did you sit?"
A lot of us went to the U2 show at OU's Memorial Stadium in Norman. And we all were blown away.
Most of us waited in never-ending traffic both ways to see Bono and Co. I've heard stories of people waiting an hour just to get to their seats once inside Memorial Stadium.
I walked from Memorial to Lloyd Noble Center after the show, (nearly 2 miles) hoping to avoid traffic and burn some calories. I may have worked off my Pei Wei from earlier, but avoid traffic I did not.
And yet, that's not what I remember from the show. I remember elation at "Elevation," dizziness at "Vertigo," and satisfaction at "Sunday Bloody Sunday." There were times throughout the show that I looked at my friends and said, "That's freakin' U2 up there!"
Bono complimented the weather in Oklahoma -- it was a nearly perfect evening, with a breeze to keep the 60,000-plus people in attendance just on The Edge of chilled.
The band paid attention to the crowd. They asked if anyone was from Ardmore, Tulsa or Norman. (Why Ardmore? We think Bono saw it on a street sign and liked the way it sounded). U2 doesn't mind that people sing along to their songs -- as a matter of fact, when Bono wanted the crowd to sing along, he took out his earpiece and listened. How cool is that?
I haven't stopped listening to U2 since I got back from Norman at 4 a.m. Sunday, and from their complete anthology. All of a sudden, the album "Pop," panned by many, sounds fantastic. I've always been a fan of their older stuff, but the new stuff has a distinct, uplifting vibe that has been of use lately.
Because I think I'm in a post-U2 funk. Days have been blue since I got back Sunday night. At least I have powerful memories of the show, and everyone's stories, as well.
It's a great chapter to add for my 2009 Legends Tours concert calendar -- I've see Leon Russell, Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, Chris Isaak, Paul McCartney and now U2. Not to mention the lineup at Dfest.
But wow, U2 was great. So great, it's hard to function in the real world afterward.
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