Graduation and Tarzan

Our Alma Mater,
Thou art strong and true
Thy name shall live in the deeds thy children do.
Thy gift will be in life our guide,
We will be true to thee,
Will Rogers High.

Remember graduation? Here's my ode to graduation day:

A GRADUATION POEM
By POPS

O' the thoughts that ran through
The mind under that mortarboard
The emotions that quickened the heart
And stirred the butterflies
In the belly beneath that robe.
Mission accomplished! Oh, crap; what now?!

I was a member of the Class of '69, Will Rogers High School, Tulsa, Oklahoma. I wasn't much of a member really; I only went to school there my senior year. Prior to that I was a Jenks Trojan!

BTW: the term Alma Mater is Latin, meaning "nurturing mother". Obviously it is used most often these days to refer to the school one attended, but it also refers to the school song or hymn, as in the case of the lyrics at the beginning of this post.

2014 grads of Oklahoma Baptist University. (borrowed from the OBU Facebook page without permission)

Though my time at Will Rogers High was short, I grew to love that little song. The tune is as nice as the lyrics. It's kind of cool that it is literally the school's Alma Mater--the song, it's about our Alma Mater--the school, and it's written using the literal meaning, "nurturing mother", as a metaphor of the school as mother and the students as the "children."

If you're still with me, which is probably unlikely, how about digging through whatever box might contain the old school tassel, or grab a school yearbook. Reminisce a bit. Then say to yourself, "Life is full of transitions and graduations, I survived that big one and I'll survive the next." Now move your tassel to the other side (figuratively of course), and let's take the summer off.

Tarzan and the fam.

Oh, one more lesson before we go: My friend Grady Nutt observed an important life lesson from Tarzan. For those who don't know Tarzan lore, his favorite mode of travel through the Jungle was swinging from one vine to the next. Grady pointed out that if Tarzan had been afraid or unwilling to let go of one vine to grab the next, he would have been known as a real swinger, but would have never gotten anywhere.

Congrats to all you grads wherever you are.

Playing The Glad Game

I'm man enough to admit it: I like Facebook. And, as every delusional, fibbing dude SHOULD have admitted when he bought a copy of Playboy back in the day, claiming he liked the magazine for its insightful articles; I like Facebook for the pictures. It's a great way to keep up with old friends, their kids and grandkids.

Lately I've really been enjoying posts of prom pics and spring sports and kids I feel connected to who are doing well--like a young pole vaulter named Brenon winning regionals, advancing to state, accepting a scholarship and signing with a great school, with a stellar track program.

For many years, I had the privilege of working with teens, watching them grow and discover. I got to be friends with some very creative, fun, wacky people. It was a blast walking with them, seeking some hope in the despair. 

I am a very proud dad of two sons. The youngest serves in a role that brings him in touch with some of the ugliest, cruelest, most tragic elements of our society. I don't know how he does it, but I'm grateful to him for serving in a way few of us would.

Do you see the ends of the broad spectrum I'm trying to paint here? On the one end: happy, healthy kids in photos with prom dates or their winning teammates. On the other end, photos of people often in a drug-addled state standing against a wall with height markers, holding a number. I know it not as clear cut as that, but...

Does it seem sometimes like the floor is tilting the wrong way?

Best I remember, my first movie star crush was with Hayley Mills in the movie Moon-Spinners. I was thirteen. She was eighteen. It didn't work out.

Ms. Mills was probably best known though for her portrayal of Pollyanna in the movie of the same name. Pollyanna was an eternally optimistic little girl who would NEVER have had a "SH#T HAPPENS" bumper sticker on her car. She liked to play a game called "The Glad Game" where she could turn every negative into a positive.

If Pollyanna were still alive, and if she had somehow insulated herself from the infectious, slimy ooze of the 24-hour A Day TV news shows, and if she had somehow found a place for herself in the hateful, vitriolic, political rhetoric that has become the norm for us citizens of the not-so-United States; it would be fun to follow her on Twitter and Facebook. Would she still be playing The Glad Game? Would she post selfies of herself smiling from ear to ear after realizing she wouldn't have a date for the prom? (But she would of course--she's Hayley Mills.)

It got me to thinking about the roles I play. (BTW: the plural "roles" is appropriate for all of us because we do play many.)

If you follow this blog (bless you), you know that I am known to my Grand-Girls as "Pops." Here on this blog I also use the term as an umbrella term for the roles of grandfather.

As you know, the prefix for "many" in our language is "poly." So, I'm hereby branding the persona of a grandfather who plays many important roles as: PolyPops. It will remind me that one of the roles we  must play is Pollyanna-like; to play a version of The Glad Game when the need arises, to help find things to celebrate.

Hayley Mills as Pollyanna

Occasionally, in the midst of all the mistrust and oneupmanship and bullying and bitterness and bad news so pervasive in our world, maybe the highest calling for grandparents is to bite the bullet and go to Chuck E. Cheese's, or to say, "Yes, let's do jump on the bed, but be careful because all we have now is Obamacare which apparently is the end of life as we know it," or "bedtime; schmedtime, let's have some fun, because life is short and your parents can time-out-chair you back in to shape when you get home." PolyPops to the rescue.

"Youth is the period in which a man can be hopeless. The end of every episode is the end of the world. But the power of hoping through everything, the knowledge that the soul survives its adventures, that great inspiration comes to the middle-aged." --G.K. Chesterton

A One And A Two

In 1955, a popular local Los Angeles TV show, was picked up by ABC and swept the nation. You can still see it in reruns every Saturday evening. The star of the show was a Ukranian-born German named Lawrence. Little Larry's family migrated to the U.S. when he was a wee lad. Dirt poor farmers, the Welks struggled for food and shelter. At some point, according to the lore, Lawrence asked his dad to buy him a mail-order accordion. In exchange for this extravagance, Lawrence promised to work diligently on the family farm until his 21st birthday.

Lawrence Welk

And, as so many have done throughout history, sacrifices were made because people understand the arts are worth it--we need music, we need poetry, we need art and design and beauty.

When I was 5 years old, however, I didn't see it that way.

I remember it like it was yesterday: I was with friends, hiding in the bushes in front of our house on South Owasso Ave. Our plan was to throw pebbles at passing cars. A couple of issues became quickly apparent: 1. Very few cars passed on our street; 2. The distance between our hideout and the street exceeded the length of our best throw.

Finally, here came a car and we gave it our best shot, which fell way short, but the strange car stopped; right in front of our house. Yikes! It paused, then pulled into our drive way. A man I had never seen before got out, opened his trunk, pulled out a suitcase and carried it to our front door. (Oh, the curse of a fertile imagination.) I watched from the seclusion of the bushes while he knocked on our door. I heard my mother invite him in.

Anxious moments passed and I heard my father call my name. I walked into the house expecting the worst. It was worse than I imagined. I walked it and noticed In the man's open suitcase was a shiny little accordion. I was being signed up for accordion lessons.

Dang you Lawrence Welk.

I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that accordion sales soared during the early years of the Lawrence Welk Show. I also don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that like Lawrence's family, my accordion and lessons were probably a big sacrifice for my parents. Did they envision that I would some day be the leader of my own polka band?

I did learn to play the accordion well enough to make my family proud when I played "The Little Indian Dance" in a recital with other young Lawrence Welks. I also learned, although it didn't occur to me until years later, that I loved music, I loved being a musician, that music is worth sacrifice. Thanks Mom & Dad.

Gratefully, our two sons love music. Both are skilled drummers. Yes we spent money on drums and lessons at a level some would call excessive. It was worth every penny. My Amazing-Missus and I have always agreed on this. She grew up in a music-loving family. Her mother was a wonderful pianist and made sure her daughter learned to play as well. Her twin brother married a very talented musician and their son is a gifted trumpet player in a world class band, just home from a concert at Carnegie Hall in NYC. Last night we had the privilege of hearing him play once again with his jazz band. (There's nothing better than live jazz.)

Now; the Grand-Girls. I am so grateful that their parents allow us to be involved in their lives. I hope we never take advantage or take it for granted. Since the girls were tiny, they've been in a program called, "KinderMusik." It is wonderful and it has been fun to participate with them from time to time.

Harper & Pops at KinderMusik

One of the greatest joys for me as Pops is watching the next generation grow to love music.

Thank you Lawrence Welk... and Mrs. Kaylor, and Aunt Betty Brady, and Betty Cox, and Mr. Churchill, and Tom Durham, and James Keyes, and Miss Conchita. 

The Idea Man

WE DO WHAT WE CAN.

I realize, and reluctantly admit, I can't do a lot things I used to do. Age has a way of sneaking in and stealing our capabilities. But here's something cool--age also brings us new stuff and opportunities, like: the benefits of experience, richer insights, depth of relationships, a pace that allows us to be more observant, to drink a little deeper from the cup of life.

I wanted to find something credible to back me up on this idea of us "mature" dudes having an essence that makes us vital in a very significant way. So I searched the ancient scriptures and found Joel 2:28, which basically says that while the young girls and guys get to prophesy and have visions, us old guys get to dream the dreams. What would the world be without the dreamers?"

You know that color that has always been known as "baby blue"? The color for little boys? Well, I am hereby announcing the official color for us Men Of A Certain Age (drum roll; trumpet herald): COBALT BLUE! Be careful about making assumptions about cobalt blue when you see a just printed sample of it. You really have to see it in glass, porcelain, watercolor, etc. to get a real sense of the depth and mystery of this color. Same for us older guys. Over time, that baby blue has become much deeper with a certain mystique about it.

So what brought on this defense of aging, or as I like to call it: living the Second-Coming-Of-Age?

Kathleen The Muse

If you've followed this blog for awhile, you've heard me mention my muse, Kathleen. Kathleen and her sister are owners of an amazing business called Braid Creative. As a service of their company they broadcast an e-letter with helpful tips and inspiration for young, creative entrepreneurs. I will readily admit that I am neither young nor entrepreneurial, but occasionally I feel creative, but can I call myself creative?

As I've said before, Kathleen as a muse can be very challenging--in a good way. With her, you don't get by with anything. You can only do so much talking before she begins to expect results. This blog, About Pops, for what it's worth, wouldn't exist if it weren't for her challenge to me.

Anyway, a few days ago, she sent this e-letter (I've edited it some): 

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HAVING A GOOD IDEA IS NOT ENOUGH | from Kathleen Shannon

You all know that Tara and I are sisters, right? Well, our dad often tries to make a bid for a position in our family business as our “idea man”. He outlines his job description as having a space in the corner of our office with a single bare light bulb and chain hanging above his elementary school-style desk. He might have a pen and yellow legal pad for notes and sketches. Any time he has an idea he pulls the chain, turns on the light bulb, and declares his idea – it might be an idea for our own business or an idea for our branding clients. Then it’s our responsibility to capture his ideas and do what we will with them. 

As ridiculous as this may sound a lot of aspiring creatives and young freelancers have the same dream job as our dad. They’re so great at coming up with good ideas they basically want their job title to be “idea guy”. But having a good idea is not enough, because guess what? Most people have good ideas – what makes a creative stand out from most people is their ability to make it real. Sitting in the corner of a room with a light bulb hanging above your head does not make you creative. Being able to bring the idea into the world as an actual service, offering, or product is what makes you creative. (Sorry, dad!) 

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See what I mean? When it comes to muse-like encouragement and inspiration, she cuts even her dad no slack. But a few days later, overcome with pity, remorse, or something, she sent this (somewhat edited):

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I’M NOT A CREATIVE… | from Kathleen Shannon

A couple weeks ago I sent out an email saying that just because you have ideas does not make you a creative. That being creative means you’re able to take action on your ideas to make them real. I used my dad’s dream job as our “idea man” as an example and you guys… I really hurt his feelings.

So it was a Friday afternoon, just after I had sent out that letter proclaiming that having a good idea is not enough, and I was hanging out with my sister after work. My parents stopped to pick up my sister’s kids for the night and my dad comes in the house with a big frown and sideways glare in my direction. He also had a bloodshot eye which made the whole thing that much more intimidating. He gruffed at me, “I never said I was ‘A Creative.’ I never said that.” 

And then I felt like a terrible person. While I was kind of just poking fun at his expense and obviously didn’t mean harm, I realized I had made a big mistake. 

Because the truth is… Everyone is creative. It’s just another label that either you identify with or you don’t. My dad is truly brilliant. He’s kind of a big deal at his government job in air quality and has his masters degree from the University of Hawaii in earth science. But beyond that he tells really funny stories and writes limericks for his retiring buddies. He makes a mean deviled ham and eggs on toast. He is a state champion at catching bass and can remember where the fish are biting at lakes he hasn’t been to for years. If that’s not creative, I don’t know what is.

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Yes Kathleen, sometimes you have to look deeper and longer at us cobalt blue guys, but it's worth it.

So maybe on the surface we look like whimsical old relics, living off the stories of our virile youth years. But as I said, the scriptures promise us the dreamer role--the Idea Men; "So we've got that going for us, which is nice."

Recognize that line? It's a classic from one of our Second-Coming-Of-Age brothers: Carl Spackler (played by Bill Murray in the film treasure, Caddyshack).

Here's the text and the clip from the film. 

Carl Spackler: So I jump ship in Hong Kong and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.
Angie D'Annunzio: A looper?
Carl Spackler: A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-lagunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. Joel 2:28.