It’s taken a couple days to get back into the groove back home. I’ve been gone four weeks and the world feels like it’s passed me by. Thus is the tempo of Internet marketing.

Therein it goes

I just finished working on wearing out my running shoes. And I just finished killing some ants at oldold man Finn’s summer place – when saving a jam basket, make sure it’s all cleaned out. Now comes the task of waiting for messages to be returned, compiling the to-do list, and reminding myself that the Book of Blues Prequel won’t write itself.

So long as I can stay busy, I can keep managing my winter blues…so I hope.

And another ant down. It’s a 33-degree day in The Region. Where the hell are they coming from?

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Ever since oldold man Finn woke up sick after our gulf-to-ocean-and-back road trip, I’ve been consumed by the question:  “Legacy or Longevity?”

In a couple hours, I’m going to go back into Book of Blues. I’m finally in uncharted territories. I know where’s it’s going. I know how it’s gonna end.

But I don’t know how to answer the Legacy / Longevity question.

I started thinking of how music heroes. I often think of Sam Cooke. Like Otis and Marvin, Sam’s flame extinguished while burning bright. My lifeline is closing in on his length. So long as I can stay away from women of the night near LA hotels, I might live a little longer.

Will it be worth it?

By this time, Sam Cooke helped bridge racial gaps in music. Several crossover hits, support for the civil rights music, and a smile that shown through the darkest of nights, Sam Cooke was a magical artisty whose Soulful craft as continued to transcend the generations.

I’ve written a book of blues that could be two books of blues – pending, and have started a prequel. And i’ll work on it once the season premiere of Chuck is over.

I’ll probably live to see tomorrow if the Southwest Florida deep freeze of 2010 doesn’t get the best of Fort Myers, Margaritaville.

I have the longevity, he has the legacy.

Who do you think has had the better life?

(photo credit:  African Goddess 02 via Flickr)

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So I was falling asleep on the couch after dinner Saturday night as oldold man Finn watched The Lawrence Welk Show. An uncommon occurrence indeed. Somewhere ’round the end of “Huckabee” I woke up with a tune in my head.

I thought the tune was played on The Lawrence Welk Show, but then I remembered the show’s theme was Disney and that I couldn’t have fallen asleep faster to the alluring sounds of The Mickey Mouse Club Mambo.

What the hell?…

The tune in my head wouldn’t have fit the pattern. Merle Haggard would have set the set of the show on fire if his outlaw gem was in the same show as the Mickey Mouse Club Mambo.

No one could steer him right, but Mama Tried, Mama Tried…

If you check the playlist above, you’ll find some great renditions of the definitive outlaw song:

• Merle Haggard’s (studio cut)
• Johnny Cash
• Grateful Dead at Woodstock
• Everly Brothers on the Smothers Brothers Variety Show (What the F*CK?)
• David Allen Coe (and if that ain’t country, you can kiss his a**)
• Willie, Merle, and Toby

Road Tested

The oldold man & I tested out several of this classic as we headed back from the Ocean on our road trip.“Mama Tried” became our unofficial theme song of our road trip.

Yeah, I’m finding Grateful Dead covers he’ll hum along too. His repressed outlaw is coming out.

The more I research for Book of Blues Prequel and the farther along I go in Plan B, the more I can’t escape the bond between Country & Western Outlaws and Blues leaders. I didn’t place “Mama Tried” in the Book of Blues – nearly a shame but for the fact I can put it in the Prequel, and perhaps the Blues Book Sequel. I think I know how I’d do it to.

But getting back to that Saturday night, as I hummed the chorus:

It dawned on me where I heard the song…

As I was in an out of consciousness before The Lawrence Welk Show, oldold man Finn was watching the Time Life Gold Age of Country infomercial.

F-in’ infomercials. Will I ever escape them?

It only shows that inspiration can come from damned places.

Speaking of oldold man Finn

He made it out to the Florida Gulf Coast University men’s basketball game just fine last night. And he still made his bike ride, too. The old man is still leaving footprints.

And I’m breathing easier.

(photo credit: J.W. Doran [and MERLE!] via Flickr)

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I woke up today still jazzed that oldold man Finn and I actually decided to roadtrip from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean and back. How many times does that get to happen?

I woke up today ready to write about the mushroom clouds of smoke and the apocalyptic haze we drove through as the sugar cane fields burned around us.

But as I woke up today I found oldold man Finn passed out on his La-Z-Boy. He had an upset stomach and said he went to bed with a bit of a chill. He talked with a bit of a drawl…

“You’re speech has me concerned.”

“You’re speech has always had me concerned.”

And after a couple yawns his cadence retruned.

After another nap he had more of a pep in his step. He thinks he’s going to go biking since it’s finally nice weather (~ 72 degrees) and that we’re still going to dinner and the Florida Gulf Coast University game tonight.

“Where are our seats tonight?”

“In the gym.”

But I couldn’t help but be concerned.

When do you tell the oldold man to ease up? Or do you?

Is it better to wear yourself out doing something you love or better to hold back and live to fight another day?

This is actually the initial question I explore on my Book of Blues Prequel. The repercussions of the situation are reverberated throughout the Prequel, Book of Blues and, eventually, the Sequel.

It was life imitating art imitating life.

I felt like I was living two nightmares and I didn’t know if I was creating the chaos. But that’s probably me giving myself too much credit. Either way, I need to realize I couldn’t think objectively at that point.

I still don’t know the answer. And that concerns me.

And in the end, I don’t know whether or not it was a good thing. Maybe it’s good to push a little if it brings the memories along with it. Maybe I’m selfish, concerned about tomorrow and making sure he’s a part of it.

Maybe life isn’t about longevity so much as it is about the footprint you leave behind.

Even if you wake up in the morning feeling a little closer to death.

Either way, I’m the one that’ll have to deal with the tomorrows.

What Do You Guys Think?

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And once in awhile, the unexpected happens…

Oldold Man Finn and I took off for Clewiston, Florida at about 10:30 am this morning. He wanted to show me a little bit of Florida history during this “bad” weather – bad as in “it hasn’t broken 60 in a few a days.”

Clewiston sits on the southern edge of Lake Okeechobee. It’s the home of US Sugar Company, the company that once owned the historic Clewiston Inn where the oldold Man and I had lunch.

The Clewiston Inn looks like a classic Southern Inn on the outside with a two-story, white marble column entrance. Its inside has decor that pays homage to the Everglades – wildlife, fishing, hunting…

Glorious wooden greeting room, a legendary lounge with a wall-to-wall mural painted by a local artist, Clewiston Inn was indeed a nice little local treasure.

While at lunch, I got a call from a buddy who suggested I write about the Clewiston Inn. I might still do that. I took pictures and I’ll put them in a Flickr gallery when I get back home.

But it was after lunch that stirred the imagination

As we were leaving the parking lot at Clewiston Inn and heading a mile down the road towards “the last light in town” (because our waitress thought we knew where that was) which would take us to a scenic trail for Lake Okeechobee, I pointed out the there are roads that circle the water.

“Yeah, but you really don’t see the lake,” he pointed out.

If the “scenic” trail was any indication, then he was dead on. We shoulda brought the boat we don’t have.

As we were comin’ back from the “scenic” trail, I played around on Google Maps to check our trail back when something surprising caught my eye:

I pointed out to the oldold man that we were actually closer to West Palm Beach (~ 45 miles) then we were to Ft. Myers (~72 miles).

“Oh yeah? You know of West Palm Beach?”

“My once-employer used to have an office there.”

He hemmed and hawed as we started to head back towards Ft. Myers.

A couple miles later he pulled into a gas station.

“You have three-quarters of a tank left,” I noted.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t turn around on the road.”

“We’re actually going to tour Lake Okeechobee?”

“Nope.”

And before I knew it, we were headed for the Atlantic Ocean.

I’ll write more about the trip in the next couple days, but for now I was overwhelmed by the fact he turned around. I knew the oldold man still had it in him.

I think he’s starting to realize the vitality of his age.

I’m older than I care to admit and today I got to take an unplanned, college-style roadtrip from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean and back with my 84-year-old grandfather.

And if you’ve been reading, then yeah, with “six strong hands on the steering wheel.”

I can’t wait to script this into the Book of Blues Prequel. I can’t wait for the family to find out.

And by the way, Google Maps, it didn’t take us 1 day, 16 hours to drive the 46.2 miles. He doesn’t drive that slow.

Does anyone in your life need to re-remember what makes life worth living? Have you done anything with them to remind them?

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