Vallenata Music And The Joy Of Difference

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I’ve probably got one of the most eclectic tastes in music that you’ll run across in your life. Big Band, Polka, Rock, Christian, Reggae, Blues, Pop, PDQ Bach, and Metal are just a sampling. Let us not forget Elvis while we’re speaking, lest the earth open and he hould leap forth to beat me like a drum.

With that in mind, I have to share a music I ran across last year. Bloggers don’t always get to the post right away. This one trickled off to the side. It was a special on the Smithsonian Channel, entitled The Accordion Kings. I dvr’d it to see what it was all about. I didn’t delete it for months. It was that fascinating.

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My Spanish is, uh, bad. I understand it much better than I speak it, and once you get past the two or three accents my hammered-up ears can understand it’s sketchy. Colombian Spanish is on the edge. But I did enjoy seeing how accurate the subtitles were as they went along.

Fascinating is an overused word. But it applies to this show. I was simply enthralled for the entire time. I backed it up several times to listen to bits and study faces. There’s no “plot” to a documentary like this, but by George it was gripping to see how certain things would turn out.

I did the research, it’s not practical for me to attend the festival. But if I could, I’d buy tickets and spend the time to catch it all.

I would strongly recommend this special to you if you are a lover of music. If you love accordions, nothing will be finer. The stories of the evolution of the musical form, the struggles of the performers, and how it reflects the society are all fascinating.

I sense a reluctance? You don’t want to buy the video until you know more? I understand. Here’s 15 minute video of some contemporary artists in the world of Vallenata. I hope you love it as much as I do.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Important Stuff Santa Has Learned.

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Over the past fifteen years I’ve picked up on a couple of things that might be helpful to other Santas, and possibly even to you. Not overly deep in most cases, but it’s the stuff you think about driving around in a suit that screams, “TAKE PICTURES OF ME AT THE NEXT STOPLIGHT!!!!!”

Without further ado:

You are being paid to work. Never phone it in. No matter how tired, sick, or overwhelmed you are feeling, give them 100% of what you’ve got. It’s an hour of your time. It’s the biggest hour of their year.

Carry a roll of duct tape tied into the cord on your toy bag. It comes in handy for repairing the damage done by rampaging four-year-olds. Nothing looks worse than Santa with a fur stip dragging behind him that used to be the hem on the suit. Duct tape fixes most things.

Smile when you’re doing your makeup. If you frown and concentrate too much, that sets the tone for the day. Big smiles, chuckles, and a laugh go a long way toward making your face the right shape for the work on the horizon.

Don’t eat onions, garlic, curry. Do eat jalapenos. They taste good and don’t wreck your breath.

Hide from the public in Kosher restaurants. The owners smile, you get some peace and quiet, and very few children in the joint will care about your drinking coffee and reading your Kindle.

Let the world touch your face. Little hands find wonder in that beard. So do hands crippled with arthritis. You bring that thing (the beard) along anyway, so let people enjoy it with you.

Keep your shoes shined and your buckle shiny. It’s a sign of respect for your customers and friends.

Remember that the adults like to enjoy the time with you as well. Tell a joke. Pray with them. Let them sit on your knee for a picture.

Soft words and slow movements are more jolly and soothing than feigned frivolity. You need to make yourself available and open – the rest will come with time.

Plan on your drive meeting obstacles. There will be an accident, road construction, a protest, or a storm. Start out early and drive around a bit when you get to your destination. You might learn something, or see something cool. Never be late.

Sing a song now and again. You know you can’t sing well, but the children think it’s cool. It’s their party, enjoy it!

Have a box of Cliff bars in the back seat. Sit in an empty parking lot behind a warehouse and take a breather. Best time of the day on occasion.

Parents who plop their child down regardless of the tears seem to be better parents. They know that unless you take some recoverable dents early on, you’ll be more damaged when it all happens as an adult. You’re not going to win them all. Learn to take a hit and recover. I see this at least 500 times a year. The parents who don’t want to traumatize their child seem to be doing them more harm than good. Nobody is a special snowflake forever. I count the time every time: most tears last for less than five seconds once they are back in mom’s arms. The question you probably should ask is: Who’s running the outfit?

Make a few visits for free each year. It’s not all about the money. Find a charity, or two, and never accept any money from them no matter what. Give a bit of your soul over to making others happy. It is a magnificent feeling.

Take some time off and take your wife out to dinner. You both need the break.

Invest in good boots. Wear them once every month to keep them limber. Buy a second pair once you’re in demand. That way you have a spare pair when they get wet. Keep both pairs shiny.

Organize your suits and items in July (or earlier) so that you’re ready to go for the season. I actually always have one suit that I keep as a spare. That way if a hospital calls for a visit to a terminal patient in January, I don’t have to scramble to meet this important need. My closet will be fully squared away and ready to go by January 6th: all suits repaired, fur cleaned, spare gloves, shined belt and buckle. No longer do I dread “all that work” in November. It’s long since in the rear view mirror.

Say hello to each person you encounter. Pray for every one you meet. Pray out loud if they seem to be in need. It does make a difference. Bring that joy right along with you like a good reindeer.

Children in the projects and in the mansion on the lake are exactly alike. They are thrilled to see Santa. If you don’t visit both in any given year, you’ve missed out on a child that could use your time. Try to do an equal number of visits to those in need and those who pay your way.

Keep an eye out for a nice teddy bear. You never know when an aching heart will need it.

Grandparents in the hospital seem to hurt worse than mom and dad. Let everyone else do their thing for a few minutes and pray with Grandpa. In all my years of doing this, he’s the one in the most pain. Be sincere, don’t promise, just understand. You must remember they’re all kids at heart and a moment with Santa can truly heal.

Say Merry Christmas to everyone. Even if they are clearly not of your faith. Do it in as many languages as you can muster. That startled look is replaced with a smile at least 90% of the time. It brings Christ’s message home: I love you even if I don’t agree with you.

Speaking with a four-year-old in his language is utterly priceless. Learn some simple phrases in a few languages and use them to bring that love home.

Drunks are usually painful to deal with as Santa. Keep that in mind next time you’re planning on drinking. Most of the world is way less amused than you are. I say this as a guy who consumed a tanker truck full of spirits in my time. I hope you have a safe, and sober, Christmas holiday.

It’s okay to shed a tear when your heart is breaking. If you’re worth anything as Santa that will happen most days. But you have to be listening and watching to have the experience. Don’t just perform, live the model that Nicholas of Myra left to follow.

Get some sleep. Take the Ibuprofen needed to deal with swollen feet and a sore back from your throne. Eat a hot meal every day. (Easier said than done.) Drink enough water. Remember that you’re mortal.

Make sure the parents get into the photo as well. Things change and that record of a happy moment is priceless.

Take time with God each day. I try to pray for every child and every family. God does listen. Pray especially hard for the ones that don’t treat you well.

Keep your clients notified of changes. Confirm your visits. Nothing stranger than showing up at the office party for the eighth straight year and finding an empty office and a new management team listed on the masthead.

Thank the doctors and nurses at the children’s hospital. They are Santa throughout the year in an exceptionally demanding job.

Stop what you are doing and look around at the people surrounding you. They love you and that’s priceless.

That battered old wicker chair you hated the first year is now a prized part of your life. Ten years in, you’d be sad to find a new chair replacing it – you’ve finally worn it to your satisfaction.

Leave something of yourself behind at each visit. A kind word, a special ornament, a smile on the memory disk. Don’t be there for the check, be there to celebrate.

This will be my final post until after Christmas. I hope your world is a glistening reminder of God’s love this Christmas. Celebrate the birth of a savior and the love of your family. Remember that all of it goes by at the speed of a sleigh in the sky.

Merry Christmas.

Richard Simmons Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

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I have no idea what that title means. But I really liked it a few months ago when I was writing down blog ideas. I wish I’d put in a few sentences on what I was thinking about.

Only slightly demented, still not Richard Simmons

Only slightly demented, still not Richard Simmons

I would have used a picture of Richard Simmons, but celebrities rather zealously guard their image. I need a lawsuit like Stormy needs five more pounds.

I suspect that it referred to my proclivity to hang stuff on the exercise bike. My canning towels spent the summer there. Great spot on the recumbent bike to set cases of jars as well. Not such a great place to park my backside and pedal.

Until recently. I decided that since I’d survived surgery in the last few months it was time to get into better shape. I have been down in the basement riding that thing on a regular basis. I now remember what it is like to sweat when it’s cold out.

My basement is unheated. I do have a big screen television, a nice set of stereo headphones, and a dvr/cable device that allows me to store episodes of Jail until I’m ready to watch them. 32 of the little critters at last count. A nice supply of movies and documentaries on the shelf next to the dvr. I love documentaries. Come to think of it, I kind of like riding the bike.

Stormy has been going down with me when I work out. Not that she’s pumping iron, but if she’s in the basement at 5:30 in the morning, she’s not barking upstairs and waking normal people who sleep. That would be my wife.

In the basement she settles down on the rug by the shelves and turns her back to me. She doesn’t like the stairs. Nor does she like my taste in television. Tough hop, doggie girl.

This does not mean that I don’t sabotage myself with what I eat, nor will I proclaim myself fit. But I have noticed that my heartbeat is much more steady, my pulse and blood pressure lower, and my attitude better since I started this endeavor a while ago.

I’m even seriously contemplating going back to the gym to lift weights again in another two months. I need to get the cardio down before I go for strength. I still have a membership, and a new pair of lifting gloves I purchased about 6 years ago and never wore. It’s time.

Richard Simmons doesn’t live here anymore. But the me I used to be seems to have moved on as well.

It’s Really That Simple.

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For many years I’ve been involved with Toys For Tots. I got my start as Santa when the man doing the job wasn’t up to it any longer. I was fully qualified: I was fat and had a beard. The Gunnery Sgt. agreed that I met the requirements. The rest is history. God has richly blessed me in this pursuit because I try never to turn down a child in need as Santa. I may not provide the gifts, but I make a lot of stops where there is nothing but love as a payment.

If you’re of a mind, keep this great organization on your list for donations next year. Volunteer. Give. Thank them. A lot of good people involved.

Santa says, “Semper Fi.”

That is all. Now, dry your eyes and turn to as we used to say.

Is That A Shank?

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I am a writer. I have a brain disease: overblown imagination. I have a relatively healthy outlet, scribbling my novels. But I’m wondering if my combination of imagination and a steady diet of Lockup, Hard Time, and Behind Bars: Rookie Year have damaged me beyond repair.

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Lest I leave you in suspense for too long, have you ever given much thought to “gassing” anyone? Do you look at open buffets and wonder if anyone put ground glass in the pot roast? Do you see burn marks around electrical outlets and wonder what they were smoking and how it got smuggled in?

Do you see small electronic devices with motors and think, “Gee, I could make a really great tattoo gun with that….” Perhaps you’ve seen a toilet almost overflow and wondered if the guy on the tier below you will be upset? I’ll bet you’ve never smuggled drugs or weapons inside your body. Well, most of you, anyway.

These things occupy my mind from time to time. I try and work out solutions to the problems, incorporate them into the data base that is my brain for future use when a character gets locked up down the road (happened in one book already – may happen again.) But it is kind of a problem when you have to do a systems check and answer the question, “Am I nuts?”

Here’s a real life example. I was in the stairwell at work the other day and spotted a sliver of metal on the floor. We have construction going on in the building. A stray piece of sheet metal, no doubt a snip from the edge of a duct, is not unusual.

I immediately thought, “Is that a shank?” Sick, right? Then I wondered where it came from so the next guy couldn’t make a weapon from the same source. I decided it was too small to turn into a stabbing instrument, so I would melt it into a toothbrush handle and slash with it.

But where to hide it until I could get a toothbrush? There were gaps in the brick wall where the tuck-pointing has failed. I tried a few of them, it wouldn’t fit. I scoped out the molding around the windows and the floor, but no gaps big enough. What to do?

I came to my senses and put it in the trash. No Corrections Officers hassled me, nobody saw it. I don’t need the weapon.

It is, however, nice to know that I might be able to find one if I really need one. Let’s just hope they never lock the doors and tell us we can’t leave. Then all bets are off.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.