So Long, Rocky Dog.

So passes Rocky (2003??-2012), known in his younger years as the Indestructible Mountain Dog.  He was a good buddy.  He lived a good life.  It was time.  So long, Rock Head.

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Lament for David

One year ago today.

Treasure the ones you love.  Never let them go.

So Long, 2011.

New Year's Eve, 2011.  So ends the hardest year of my life.  I have thought long about what I wanted to say tonight, how to sum up this brutal year and send it out the door.  So much loss, so much grief, not just for me and my family, but for my whole community.  Many of my thoughts have been angry and defiant--There's the door, 2011.  Don't let it hit you in the butt on the way out, and may we never see your likes again.

As good as it feels to say that, though, there is so much more to it.  As the old song says, "Where there's a shadow, there's a light."  Loss is just love turned inside out--you can't really have one without the other.  We lost a son because, however briefly, we had a son.  We hate fighting against poor health because we know very well what it is to enjoy good health.  We grieved the time away from our daughter because we have a daughter who is so wonderful we hate being away from her.  We mourned the loss of our wonderful South Elementary family because we were embraced by that family.

If we are still hurting, it is because we are still here.  If there are things we have to fight against, it is because we still have enough hope to fight.

I would not wish the sorrows of this past year on anyone, and it is true to say I hope never to see the likes again.  But just as a meal tastes even sweeter after a long hunger, so our hard times make the joys more deeply felt.  I am amazed at this:  How much richer the love between Mrs. Badger and me has grown.  How miraculous it seems just to play with my daughter and watch her grow.  How joyful it can be just to go for a walk in the mountains and breathe the sweet, free air.  And what wonderful, priceless, loyal friends we have.

God continues to do his work, turning the horror and hardship for our good, just like he promised He would. 

So, here's to you, 2011.  There's the door.  Friends, there's the door for you, too.  Please use it often.  We love you.

So, give a hand, my trusty friend, and here's a hand of mine
We'll take a cup of kindness yet for the days of auld lang syne.

Happy New Year, everyone.  May the God of New Beginnings make it rich and beautiful, come what may.

Christmas Tree

I love living close to the mountains.  People travel cross-country to see and experience what is practically my back yard.  To be able to get up in the morning and, with a minimal amount of preparation required to make the trip family-friendly, head for the hills...what a blessing.

So it was that, the day after Thanksgiving, we loaded up the Subaru and headed up the canyon to find a Christmas tree.  I love Christmas trees.  I love what they symbolize--the durability of life, the assurance that, underneath that death-blanket of snow and ice, living things are dozing and plotting their annual springtime come-back.  It is a great reminder, having something large and green in the house during these longest nights of the year.  Decorate it up with sparkling lights and shiny tinsel and it's like the stars on the snow.  Hang up the ornaments, each one of which has its own story to tell.  Then plug the whole thing in:  It's like silent, indoor fireworks.  Yes.

But since I am in serious danger of committing philosophy, here, how about I just get on with the pictures.

First, a short video.  This was actually taken the week before.  I love it when the snow does this.  The movement reminds me of ghosts on horseback.


Katito tries out the sled.  And here, I thought I was going to use it to haul out the tree!

Scouting with my Assistant Mountain Buddy 

(my primary mountain buddy is behind the camera)

Scouting...

Scouting...

Quarry:  Located!  Saw:  Dull!

While dad does all the work...

...mom and Katie goof off with the camera.

No expedition is complete without a family photo.

And the result?  Well, I couldn't get a snap with all the lights on at the same time, but maybe you can get the idea.  Beautiful.

So, Winter isn't all about hibernating, freezing, pigging out, and being miserable.  Stay tuned for reviews of my new cross-country skis!  :)

Harmony

My 2nd and 3rd graders started laying the groundwork for harmony singing last week.  One Bottle of Pop.  Alfred the Alligator.  My Dog Treed a Rabbit.  Kookaburra--both the "normal" and "naughty little kid" versions.

We talked about harmony and its definition (a room full of 2nd graders bellowing, DIFFERENT  SOUNDS THAT WORK TOGETHER!!!).  I showed them some examples:  All singing "One Bottle of Pop" is not harmony...why?  Because we're all singing the same thing.  It has to be different sounds.  Same thing, but with the guitar--is this harmony?  Yes!  The guitar is different.  Then a funny example:  Singing "One Bottle of Pop," while I play the accompaniment to a different song, in a different key and different meter.  Above the giggling and puzzled looks, I ask again. NO!  It sounds like a big mess.  Doesn't work together. 

The big punch line is happening this week, when we start applying this stuff, singing rounds and partner songs.  Some classes struggle with the team concept, getting their ears past themselves to hear the whole group.  There's a big difference between understanding it and doing it.  But other classes really get it--I can hear it in their voices and see it in their faces.  It's the best thing about teaching:  Being there when it happens, even presiding over it.  That feeling is what hooked me on teaching almost twenty years ago.  It is what has kept me with it all these years.  It is addictive.

The harmony really starts happening; those different sounds really start working together.  The little light bulbs start coming on, the energy in the room kicks way up, and I don't really have to tell the kids that we're all in this together.  I don't have to tell them that they can accomplish things as a group that they could never accomplish by themselves.  I don't need to point out that our differences make us strong.  I don't have to tell them that when we really come together, we can do just about anything.

They get it.

In the Open Air

The greatest thing about having so many different friends--especially the oddly creative friends I seem drawn to--is the constant challenge to look at things from a different angle, to try things a different way.

My friend Mara, the painter from Sheridan, enjoys painting "en plein air."  This is an artistic French term which means, reassuringly, "in plain air."  You grab your gear, head out under the sky, and paint nature as you see it.  If I were a painter, I would want to work this way.  It's natural, it's outside, it requires a good mix of planning and spontaneity.  Mara's work sometimes makes me wish I had time to take up painting again.

We receive Backpacker Magazine, courtesy of an outdoor gear company who apparently thinks it will encourage us to buy more stuff.  (It might be working)  I recently read an article therein about Gordon Hempton, a man who has made it his life's work to seek out wild places in Washington state that are completely free of human noise.  What with airplanes, dogs, and freeways, he has a surprisingly difficult time finding such places, even in National Parks and so-called wilderness areas. But once he does locate such an area--here's the cool part--he hauls in a semi-portable, stereo recording rig and spends hours, sometimes days, recording the silence.  Yep, that's what he does.

Why would he bother?  Well, there is, of course, no such thing as true silence in nature.  I recall, as a boy, standing in the Bighorn Basin badlands, amazed at the sounds of a mouse munching on roots under my feet.  That's quiet.  Once you recalibrate your ears to nature's level, it's amazing the things you hear.  That is what Hempton is going for--trying to get people to get away from the traffic, quit yacking, turn off the ipod, and just listen.  His recordings have won Emmy awards; they are in the Smithsonian.  No effects, no added music.  Just nature, in all its acoustic glory.

Reading that article, I kept thinking of Mara's "en plein air" adventures.  I wanted to do music this way--get out there and record my music directly on the canvas of nature's noisy silence.  So when I found myself with a free afternoon recently, I grabbed my shiny new low D, some snacks, and the video camera, and headed for the desert.

I'm fairly pleased with this maiden voyage into "en plein air" music recording.  I like the way the lighting turned out.  I like the spaces in the music where you can listen for crickets and flies.  If I had had a better microphone, you might have been able to hear the magpies squawking in the distance.  

I'm starting to look into portable recording rigs.  Thinking about locations.  Trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to do this in the winter.  Maybe my next CD will feature music recorded in the open air.  Maybe I'll get some friends together and do a series of wilderness concerts some summer.

Or maybe not. This is a good start, though, even if I'm not sure, just yet, what it's the start of.  That's another great thing about trying things a different way:  You never quite know where it will end up.  But getting there sure is fun.

Release

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

It's a hand-me-down. The thoughts are broken.
Perhaps they're better left unsung.
I don't know, don't really care:
Let there be songs to fill the air!
--The Grateful Dead

Today is the big day: After three years, The Stone of Beth El is finally available. It is up on CD baby. The website is all set up. The set list for the party is put together. Everything is ready.

I hope to see some of you at Global Arts tonight. For those of you who can't make it, I'll try to get some videos up in the next week or so: Thanks for being with me in spirit. Be sure to check out the cause this CD is supporting. If you buy a CD, check out the lyrics tab here on the website.

This recording is my best work so far, three years in the making, with an incredibly willing and able supporting cast. I'm excited to finally get it out there. It's a little scary, too, putting my skills, my creativity, my hard work, my soul out there for people to purchase. I hope most people will enjoy the music. Maybe some who are struggling will find something in there to make their journey a little smoother. Maybe those who don't struggle enough will find something to challenge them. And maybe, heaven forbid, some will not like it a bit. cringe grovel squirm

But that's the way things go. In a small way, it is sort of like being a parent. We have these years to work with our daughter, to teach her and empower her and prepare her the best we can. But just like our music, I know our parenthood is less-than-perfect. And at some point we'll have to release her, too: dress her up and send her out into this big, beautiful, scary world to use what she's learned.

My wife once asked me if I was ever going to let some boy take my little girl to the prom. My answer involved something about a sniper rifle. I'm not sure I'm ready to think about that just yet. But I know the day will come.

I believe that one of our purposes in life is to learn to sing the song God has put inside us. Whatever form the song might take, you have to let go of self-consciousness and perfectionism and fear of failure. You have to do the best you can and trust God with the rest. You have to let it go.

Whatever your song is, you have to release it.

Because a kid who never leaves the safety of home never gets to be more than a kid. And music that isn't shared is little better than silence.

Enjoy the music, folks. I certainly have!