Fish In the Audience

Tommy Shaw is one of my favorite musicians of all time. He is a quadruple threat: a great guitarist, singer, songwriter, and his baby-faced looks have kept him in the running as a chick-magnet way into his 50's. My buddy, Gary Sadler, had the privilege of meeting him back stage at a recent Styx concert--a band for which Tommy has been playing since 1976. Many of us know his voice from songs such as Too Much Time On My Hands, Blue Collar Man and Angry Young Man. I ran across a web-magazine in which Tommy shed light on the little-talked-about discomfort that affects most musicians when it's their turn to be an audience member.

Many musicians who travel through Nashville say we are the worst audiences on their itinerary. That is because the seats are usually filled with fellow players and singers. Our tendency is to stand there, cross-armed and blank-faced, not giving needed feedback to the performers on stage. Tommy Shaw talked to writer, Allen D. Tate, about an award show where Styx recently performed. Tommy helps make it clear that when we, the musicians, are not on stage, we are at our most vulnerable state--we do better in the spotlight than in the seats:

Having attended enough shows, I have finally come to the conclusion that I am not a lone freak, I am in a class of freaks of artists that just don’t know what to do with themselves from that perspective. Looking out that night at the audience, brightly lit because the event was televised, I could see them all...So there we were starting into “Blue Collar Man” when I looked out and saw them: Artists, musicians, their spouses and dates, their handlers and relatives everywhere, most of them friends...I recognized that look on their faces – awkward helplessness and 'fish-out-of’ water' syndrome...I think artists will agree, we just don’t know what to do when we are audience members. It’s difficult to suspend your disbelief as an audience member because you have too much experience from the stage and you instinctively take on the same reflex reactions as if you were up there, except now you are helpless because you are not in the mix.

The problem extends to the church where pastors and worship leaders have the same difficulties. There is nothing more frustrating than to see the pastor on the front row, fiddling with his sermon notes during a tender moment in worship; or a worship leader checking email on his smart-phone. That might be a reminder for us to be aware of how we present ourselves on and off stage. Some of us "fish" would do better to just swim away!

Leftovers

We have a bunch of ham leftover from Thanksgiving. That's right, ham. If I were to choose, I'd pick ham every time. We are usually traditional on Turkey Day, but his year Brenda was handed a kick-fanny Honey Baked ham as a gift--so pork became our Thanksgiving main course. Needless to say, I had ham later for dinner, and we will have some more tonight as well.

I am reminded of the loaves and fishes story from the Bible. Not only did Jesus supply enough food for the multitudes, but there were baskets filled with leftovers for some fortunate person to take home and enjoy for days. When Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding feast, he made three huge vats so there would be plenty. As with the bread, some blessed soul had the "duty" of carrying home the excess wine from the feast (can you imagine what the label would say if it were bottled?--God's Best Vineyards--French wine would have nothing on it!). Every blessing that God brings is a reminder that heaven is not poor or wanting for anything. When He is involved, things are done with the utmost quality and the quantity usually exceeds the needed amount.

As I eat our Honey Baked ham to the bone, I thank God. He constantly reminds us that He has our back. Even though it's ironic--the God of Issac and Jacob gave us the forbidden swine for Thanksgiving--I see it as a wink and a nod to the fact that He wants to bless us abundantly. I don't deserve any of it. I cannot match his generosity. So I will reach for a roll, slap on some mustard, and give thanks for the leftovers. AMEN!

Gary Henley

From January, 1980, to January, 1983, I spent three years criss-crossing the country and the globe playing music for American Entertainment Productions (AEP). It was a small company out of the northern suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. It might have been a tiny blip on the radar-screen of the entertainment industry, but it has been "performance school" for me and many other college-aged musicians and singers since 1973.

AEP was the place where I learned to perform for an audience. I also learned to lead others, not only as a front-person on stage, but as a road manager. My responsibilities were to get us from gig to gig, represent AEP to the agents and show producers, keep harmony (relational and musical) within the team, make sure the checks were deposited and to see that we had hotel rooms for the group. You can't put a price tag on that kind of an education!


(photo)First National Band in Turkey, summer,1982

Gary Henley was the owner and president of the company. Over the years he--along with Mark Sorensen, Wes Turner and arranger-extraordinaire, Stan Morse--staffed, outfitted, produced and transported hundreds of aspiring musicians to share stages with greats such as Dolly Parton, Jay Leno, Bob Hope, Tony Bennett and Pat Boone. My second year with AEP began with a newly launched rock group, the First National Band. We journeyed the US playing two to three shows per day for Jr. and Sr. high schools. We would do a short promo show and advertise that we'd be back for a big nighttime show in a few days. That added up to thirteen shows per week sometimes--often traveling two to three hours between performances. I remember crawling up to my hotel room one night in Nebraska and wondering if I would be alive when the alarm rang at three the next morning. How could a 21 year-old be so tired?

Gary has announced that he is selling the company after 37 years. This change makes turning the page on the past more difficult; it seems Gary Henley has always been there. I will forever be grateful to those guys at AEP who put up with me as I learned to adjust to road-life and being away from home for the first time. I grew up in AEP. Gary taught me some of the greatest lessons in life: don't give up; the show must go on; make it happen!

Sanctuary

Family is what Thanksgiving is all about. We are blessed with a home that is filled with love, food, rest and music--a place I want to run to when the day is through. Yesterday, our new daughter-in-law expressed to Brenda how much she appreciates the home we have. Really, our home is the sum total of what both Brenda and I have experienced in our lives--our own family, or others where warmth and acceptance were extended to all who entered. Even before Brenda and I met, we were making a list of the things we wanted in a home. Most of the qualities we observed and desired were things that happened naturally in family settings, not things that were forced--but genuine, sanctuaries and respites from the world.

All that I have avoided for my family can be found on the TV show, Cops: dads out in the street in wife-beater tank tops, or shirtless altogether; the living spaces strewn with dirty dishes and soiled floors; babies wandering around in filthy, ripe diapers; everyone scurrying about like headless chickens...Do you know the scene?

I have witnessed homes like this, real and up-close, and I won't have any of it. When I was in elementary school, I planned to stay the night with a friend. His mom and dad started drinking before I got there, and in a few hours they were completely sauced and going for each others throats, both physically and verbally. I didn't feel safe. I called my dad to pick me up and I spent the rest of the night in the peaceful sanctuary of my own home.

I am looking forward to Thanksgiving this Thursday. I know that our house will be filled with the aroma of food, the TV will stay on constantly, and by 2 o'clock, a coma will overtake each person until we all head out to our customary Thanksgiving visit to the theater. When we return, the countdown to Christmas will have already commenced and we'll peruse the paper for Black Friday bargains.

I have found a resting place, and it's called home.

Traditions

Traditions are good. They are predictable, anticipated and usually meet our expectations. We look at our calendars and make our annual plans for Christmas, birthdays, Thanksgiving, etc. Our immediate family have inadvertently created traditions that Brenda and I didn't realize were so until our kids, Josh and Betsy, brought them to our attention.

One big tradition has been on Thanksgiving. Right before dinner we all gather and stand at the table for a family photo which usually ends up being our Christmas portrait of sorts. Then after the feast we go to the computer and choose a new movie to see at a local theater. It's simple, and almost sounds dull, but it has become a powerful tradition to which we all look forward.

Since Josh and Betsy have both married, and their spouses rightfully have a say in their holiday schedules, Thanksgiving this year will have to be tweaked. Josh an Amber will visit her family three hours away, and Betsy and Adam will share the weekend between his and our family. As Brenda and I look back over our 25 years of marriage, we see the changes that have inevitably happened to us as our family grew. Sometimes with a move, a death, or as the children grew up and moved away, our long-standing traditions had to be altered. It is a change we must ultimately accept.

Change is a good thing. Maybe within a few years we will have additions to our family and my name will go from Dad to Grandpa. In that case, I will look forward to the holidays all the more. I know that Josh and Betsy's families will grow--new traditions will evolve and schedules will need to be adjusted. But being a grandpa is a change for which I can easily adjust. No pressure, kids!

Guitar Men

I had lunch this week with two guys who build musical instruments: Mario Martin (Guitar Mill) builds guitars and Kevin Shaw (Shaw Audio) builds amplifiers. When I get the opportunity to hang out with guys like these I am both delighted and intimidated. As a musician I've learned to focus on the playing and leave the technical stuff to the experts. I can be intimidated because I am not an electrical engineer or a carpenter. But I know what I like when it comes to tone and functionality. When it all boils down, I am simply a guitar picker--and these guys make me sound good when I play through their awesome tone machines.

Here's a video produced by Nashville Public Television--a great piece about my friend, Mario Martin.

Southgate Avenue

I, along with a host of other Southgate Avenue children, found ways to pass the after-school hours by playing games like Red Rover and Hide & Seek. In the summertime we would buddy up to those on the block who had a pool. We were absolutely free to roam the neighborhood if it was light outside. Mom would kick us out of the house to play in the afternoon sun until the collective smell of onions, garlic, fried meats and cooking oil wafted through the neighborhood exhaust vents, and someone from each clan would scream at the top of their lungs, "Dinner's ready!"

After the feast we would run back out to re-join the neighborhood activity, sometimes with the last bite of dinner still in our mouths when we caught up with our friends. We would run and play so hard, all the while sweat pouring off our shaved heads. We would itch from sliding on the grass and the occasional run-in with a nasty ant bed. Nevertheless, nothing could stop us until the sun began to set and we would wind-down our activity, based on how much light was left. Then in an instant, the street lights would come on and beckon us toward our individual homes.

Bath time was a challenge for my mother and her 3 boys. More water ended up on the floor than in the tub, and a soap ring appeared each time. Mom had to scrub everything the next day knowing all would be destroyed again that night. We battled our arms and legs into clean pajamas with the smell of Safeguard replacing the pungent odors of sweat and soil. Then we'd settle in with our favorite evening TV shows and beg to stay up one more hour. Before we knew it, our sleepy heads were ready to hit the pillow. It was time to slip into our clothes-line-fresh beds and lay there listening to crickets as we fell off to sleep. Nothing was more secure, safe or satisfying: knowing that mom and dad were standing guard from the other room...all was well.

Tonight, as a dog barks in a distant yard, and a fall breeze gently rustles the bushes around my house, I am thankful for my parents. I pray that my kids have the same memories of security and warmth that I knew while growing up on Southgate Avenue.

Rule Of Three

Last night our pastor made a bold statement while addressing 1500+ men who gathered together to eat, worship God, and focus on our men's initiative for 2011. It was clear and there was no uncertainty with the points he wanted to make. The visual that brought the first point home was probably not unusual to many churches, especially during a Christmas pageant. But it was certainly a first for our church in the new sanctuary which opened earlier this year.

People, especially men, are prone to tuning-out when a lot of information is coming at them like X-wing fighters in a battle scene from Star Wars. Sgt. Friday from Dragnet summed it up best by saying, "Just the facts, ma'am." Last night's men's gathering began with a huge barbecue feast that made focusing on the message more difficult. It took a lot of distorted guitars with ear-cracking drums to wake the guys from their chicken and pork-induced coma before Allen took the stage.

I am a proponent of the "rule of three" when it comes to speaking and writing. It is somewhat inherent in humans to better retain information, with increased comprehension, by using a three point outline. My dad, a great writer and a former Toastmaster, taught me this simple, yet effective form of communication: tell the audience what your going to say, say it in three simple points and, in conclusion, remind them what you just told them. Some might contend that this approach is too simplistic, but if you want to get your point across--it works!

The first of the three points that Pastor Allen introduced last night involved bringing a live, 1-ton bull out on stage (a point is always more effectively communicated with a visual!). "No more bull, guys!" was his statement. The second point was: we gotta move- you can't stand still and progress in God. The third point: it takes an over-comer to continue on the journey as a Christ-follower. We all got the message and look forward to implementing it into our lives in the coming year.

Brilliant! The power of the "rule of three" was evidenced last night. Buster the bull also left evidence of his visit back stage, by the way.

20 Years

As happens each Tuesday, new CDs, DVD's and books arrive on store shelves to await the anxious hands of perspective buyers. This week, former president George W. Bush's memoir, Decision Points, was among those fresh releases. I was able to get my hands on a sample portion of the book through my Kindle, via Amazon.com. In it, Mr. Bush takes a rather clear, simply-stated approach in his writing. The straight-to-the-point honesty of some of the anecdotes he offers point to his desire to "set the record straight"--at least in his viewpoint.

I think that it's important to step away from a given situation to enable a clear assessment. In the case of an object, I am forced to stretch it as far away from my eyes as possible to see the small details clearly. It also helps that I have my reading glasses handy. Viewing history can be very similar. In order to judge a particular era, person or social movement, it is helpful to be distanced from it. It takes as little as a generation to properly make accurate judgments, maybe even several generations. It is unfair to judge a president during the time he is in office, although it is clear when someone makes a mistake in the immediate. As a Christian, I have a strong set of values which influence my point of view about an issue. But to actually judge his decisions and motivations, one must pull back and look at a bigger panorama. In my humble opinion, I think 20 years is the least amount of time it takes to stamp a judgment on history.

Remember, Abraham Lincoln was despised throughout his tenure as president by many, including some within his own cabinet. Time has changed that perspective. Many now say that Lincoln was our greatest president. Reagan was championed in political speeches of some Democrats during this past mid-term election cycle. Time heals wounds. Time brings clarity and sometime reverses what once was a positive to be seen as negative--take the Mad Men, male-chauvinistic, cigarette-smoking culture of the 60's, for instance. Even enemies can appreciate a well fought battle when time separates one from the passions of the moment.

As I have agreed with most of Mr. Bush's policies, I have also disagreed with many, including his lax stand on border security. In his book, he makes a case for several policy decisions including the bank bailouts of the last months of his presidency. I do know that Bush is a decent, God-fearing man who overcame many obstacles to reach the high office he was elected twice to fill. His legacy will find it's true place in history, maybe not after reading the book, or hearing him personally set the record straight on talk shows over these next few months. His legacy will be better judged from an arm's length away, focused through the lens of wisdom and truth.

Running In the Dark

Character is what we do when no one is watching, as the saying goes. At 34 Edison Pena is a man whom the world now knows as miner No. 12, or "The Running Miner." Edison, along with 32 fellow coal miners, was trapped a half-mile below the earth's surface in Copiapo, Chile for 69 days. His story of survival, hope, determination, and triumph was punctuated this weekend as he ran the New York Marathon. The interesting thing was that it was in the dark, dank recesses of that looming and potential grave where Edison made a pact with himself to not simply wait for a rescue but to become a better man in the process.

In a report from the NY Daily News Pena said,

"I ran to forget that I was trapped...I ran in the dark. It was tremendous for me." He paused for a moment. "I went to the depths, the lowest of the low, but I kept running. If you show God you can fight, He will listen much more than if you give up. God doesn't like us to give up."

In his captivity he would train by dragging a wooden pallet behind him - cargo that not only added resistance, but helped him deal with all of the emotion that was building up as days stretched into weeks and then months. Pena would tie a telephone cord around his waist, hook it to the pallet, and off he'd go, with a flashlight in hand and no idea if he'd ever see daylight, or his family again.

"I became two people: the weak person who wanted simply to give up, and the person who chose to be strong - to run and to survive," he said. "Eventually, I chose to live." Pena is a devout Christian and humble man who wants to please God and not put anyone out.

He didn't even want to ask New York Road Runners for shoes; when he learned that marathon sponsor, Asics, would be happy to provide him with some, he could hardly believe it. He finished the marathon on Sunday in 5-hours, 40 minutes, enduring severe knee pain that Pena said has plagued him since the days he was trapped in the mine. At one point during the race he said he thought about dropping out due to the pain. But after he applied ice packs to the knee, he was able to finish the race.

I am humbled this morning and encouraged. God will shine a glimmer of light into a sea of darkness to bring hope to a weary soul. Even as we wait for God's deliverance, maybe there is a purpose to be fulfilled. We often search for meaning in the trials we face, sometimes coming up empty handed. Like Edison Pena, we can turn our most harrowing difficulties into a brand-new and exciting journey. Who knows what is waiting on the surface of the mine.

Work

“The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary,” writes Donald Kendall, former Chairman and Chief Executive Officer PepsiCo. Success in life is usually hewn out of a proverbial rock and requires sweat, persistence, faith, tenacity and pride. The unfortunate reality is that many times some lazy loser is waiting on the sidelines to haul it all away, or at least take credit for your hard work. The truth is, we may never see the full fruit of our efforts, but hope and pray that our loved ones will benefit from our toil. If life's ultimate goal is retirement, and then to sit around waiting for our heart to stop beating, I would rather be out there rocking until they peel the guitar away from my cold, dead hands.

Work has such a nasty connotation in our free-loading society. There is an attitude of entitlement that is pervasive in our culture. Several of the government programs meant to help the poor have only hindered folks from getting off of their rear ends and actually becoming a producer rather than a taker in society. I was raised in a hard-working, blue-collar household where you went to work after high school. There was none of this sitting around crap in my home. I left home to play music and, after 6 years of doing so, realized that my future was limited if I didn't have a college education. So, at 25 years of age, and newly married, I re-started my freshman year (first attempt was in 1978, right out of high school) to begin a new 4-year journey as a professional student. Don't get me wrong--I had two part-time jobs as well to provide income for my new family.

Author, Julia Cameron writes, “What we really want to do is what we are really meant to do. When we do what we are meant to do, money comes to us, doors open for us, we feel useful, and the work we do feels like play to us.” This statement, in my opinion, doesn't equate "money comes to us" as wealth, necessarily. The wonderful thing about America is that we have options. Marco Rubio, the newly elected senator from Florida, in his acceptance speech said of his late father,

"No matter where I go, whatever title I may achieve, I will always be the son of exiles and will always be the heir of two generations of unfulfilled dreams...He [my father] grew up largely in a society where what you were going to be when you grew up was decided for you. This is like almost every other place in the world. Think about what that means. That means that before you are even born, how far you're going to get to go in life is decided for you by who your parents are or are not. He was fortunate enough to make it here to America where he was never able to capture his own dreams of his own youth. Instead, he made it the mission of his life to ensure that his children would have every opportunity he did not, that every door that was closed for him would be open for them, that the day would never come for them that came for him: The day when he realized that his own dreams would not be possible, and so now life was about opening the pathways for his children. This story I know well, and it verifies to me the greatness of our country. Because tonight, with your vote, you have elected his son to the United States Senate."

My goal in work is to finish what God has given my hands to do on earth with skill and excellence, to bring Him glory, to provide for my wife and family, and ultimately to leave this world a better place than the one into which I was born.

A Song In the Night

Two nights ago I woke at 3:45 AM with a song that wouldn't go away. Funny, it was one I never heard before. I decided to get up, go to my studio, spark up the Mac and, with my acoustic, begin to make sense of the melody that was rolling around in my head.

As I wrote recently, I can easily lose a song that comes to me in a dream. This time the tune was so persistent it wouldn't take "later" for an answer. I remember the same thing happened when I wrote "Garments of Praise." That song came to me when I was going through an emotionally tough time. I sang the lyric and melody in my mind as I pondered Isaiah 61:3. It was so comforting in that even as I was feeling lousy, by focusing on God's view of my situation, I could actually feel hope and relief.

The same thing happened the other night. I was dreaming about being in a worship service at our church. This time I wasn't leading worship but was in the congregation. I was imagining that we were gathered at the altar, waiting for the Spirit of the Lord to fall. Actually, it was similar to the Biblical scene from Isaiah 6 where the prophet saw the Lord high and lifted up, the train of His robe filling the temple. The phrase "saints and angels singing together" came to my mind. That was it! I had a song.

Again, it doesn't happen as often as I would like, but I'll take the early-morning interruption of sleep to jot down this inspiration from heaven.

Neil Young

I am a huge fan of Neil Young. I don't particularly like it when he complains about the US, yet continues to live here as a Canadian citizen. But when it comes to his music, he's up there on my favorites list.

I was introduced to Neil's unique music when my older brother, Rob, brought home both of the albums "Harvest," and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's "Deja Vu." The song "A Man Needs a Maid," from the 1972 "Harvest" record, floored me, even as a young teen. Of course, "Heart of Gold" took both the nation and me by storm with this, his only #1 hit song. My musical life was changed during those moments listening to this great artist.

In 2003, Rolling Stone Magazine listed "Harvest" as one of the 500 Greatest Albums of All time at #78. In 2004, Rolling Stone magazine selected "Heart of Gold" as one of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, stating:

"Harvest yielded Young's only Number One hit, 'Heart of Gold,' and helped set the stage for the Seventies soft-rock explosion -- both James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt sing on the album. Along with Young, they were in Nashville to appear on Johnny Cash's variety show the week that Harvest was cut with an odd group of accomplished session players that included bassist Tim Drummond, who had played with James Brown. The sound was Americana -- steel guitar, slide guitar, banjo -- stripped down and rebuilt with every jagged edge exposed. The standout tracks include 'Old Man' and 'The Needle and the Damage Done.'"

When some first heard the group America, and it's mega-hit "A Horse With No Name," they thought it was a Neil Young recording. Young's influence, going back to his previous group, the Buffalo Springfield, along with other groups like the Byrds, the Dillards and singer Linda Ronstadt, had unmistakeably contributed to the birth of new groups like America and the Eagles. This fresh take on American roots music began as a ripple, then a wave, and rose to tsunami strength known as the Southern California Sound. It was an amalgam of bluegrass, country, folk, gospel, rock, and a hefty dose of vocal harmony and instrumental prowess . The new sonic hybrid captivated radio airwaves through to the end of the decade when punk and New Wave began to take the top spots on the Billboard charts. Neil Young was at the center of it all from the beginning, and continues to release great music today.

I saw an uncanny Neil Young impression artfully done by Jimmy Fallon the other day. It was dead-on! In it, Jimmy nails the essence of Neils style while singing the song made famous on American Idol, "Pants On the Ground." Neil may be an acquired taste for some, but to me, a child of the 60's and 70's, he is a genius.