Music surrounds us practically everywhere we go. Many times it is pleasing and adds to the experience of visiting the establishment. Our taste in music does vary and that accounts for our widely different opinions on what constitutes good music.
God blessed some of us with wonderful voices. Some have rich speaking voices, others have voices for singing. A few have both. However, there are some of us that not only can’t sing, their normal speaking voice is, how should I say it, annoying? Grating? Grating!
I was reminded recently that there is more of us than just the “can’t sing” and the “cans” among us. There are the “can’t sing and know it,” the “can sing and know it” and the “can sing but deny it” group. The most painful crowd to be around is the “can’t sing but someone said they could and they believed it” folks.
There are some places that just lend themselves to bad music experiences. I would place any establishment with an “open mike” night and also serves alcohol in that category. Any talent contest that has a cash prize can count on punishing the judges mercilessly (unless they are given GONG privileges.)
If I am in a church, a concert or anywhere else there is music, you can just guess who will sit beside me and know all the verses to every song played. (Hint: it won’t be anyone that will soon be discovered and get a recording contract.)
I was at a ballgame recently and got to sit beside Ms Tin Ear herself. She had the lungs of an auctioneer, even knew the words to the bumper music that they played at every break in the action. (Had it been a dog show, there would have been a lot of responsive howling.) I seriously considered moving, but I decided that it could be worse.
“How,” you ask?
Sitting beside someone that can’t sing and they think they know all the words, but don’t, is your answer. These folks make my ears bleed.
Over the years, I have heard folks sing at some function and then say, “It sounded a whole lot better than that in the shower.” Or, just as rich, “I don’t know what happened. When I sing that song riding down the road in my car, I can hit every note…”
I just don’t believe it. I can hear myself better in the shower, but that’s not to say that it sounds good. The same goes for driving down the road with the windows up or down. I do sing in those places alright, both in the shower and on the road. But I’m certainly not going to inflict that on anyone else.
In my recent memory, I guess that Roseanne Barr trying to sing the Star-Spangled Banner in San Diego has got to top my list as the all time best example of a bad example of singing. It was much worse than Christina Aguilera newly worded rendition at the Super Bowl. For heaven’s sake, the national anthem has whipped the likes of Jose Feliciano, Marvin Gaye and Robert Goulet. It has been done so poorly by so many that it has been called the Star-Mangled Banner for good reason. What was she thinking? I wouldn’t try to sing it in the shower.
I once went to hear a Southern preacher who was visiting a church near my hometown. I’d heard him preach and looked forward to seeing and hearing him in person. I had no idea that he sang. (I use that term loosely here.) Looking back, I should have gone late. What he lacked in quality he tried to make up for in volume (both loudness and quantity.) If he had asked for requests, I’m sure someone would have said, “Yeah, why don’t you quit.”
His message was good, strong and scriptural. He also sang. I thought about writing a check for the offering and putting the following in the memo:
Love offering: $50
Listening to singing: - $40
Check amount (net) $10
I thought about it, but I didn’t do it. You never know. Maybe his Mama or Grand-mama told him he could sing.
Bless his heart, I certainly didn’t tell him that.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Greatest Thing.......
“The greatest thing since sliced bread” I have heard that all my life. I’ve heard it about everything from computers to, well, bread.
I remember being in a meeting once, listening to a contractor describe some wonderful product he was trying to sell. There was a group of Air Force civilians and military in the audience. The Colonel at the head of the table was obviously impressed and made reference to some feature being the “greatest thing since sliced bread.” I began to wonder just what made sliced bread such a watershed event.
You could certainly slice your own bread to make a sandwich long before it came presliced, all wrapped in a nice package and on the shelf in the grocery store. I guess sliced bread makes it a lot easier to be certain that the bread will fit in the electric toaster. However, not many folks had those either, even though electric toasters had been invented almost twenty years when sliced bread made its debut in the late 1920s. Good grief, we didn’t have electricity on Chicken Road until just before World War II and I don’t think we used much of it even then. What I am saying is that I didn’t live through the hardship of having to slice my own bread, but I can’t imagine that it would be that tough.
I do remember when we got indoor plumbing at my house. In my opinion, that was certainly the greatest thing since WAY BEFORE sliced bread. The summer before I started to school we finally got a bathroom. I don’t know what other families called their outhouse, but ours was always called Mrs. Murphy. I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t have to go see “Mrs. Murphy” in the dark and on cold mornings before the school bus came to pick me up. It was too far behind our house, covered in honeysuckle, and was a three holer (two big holes and one kiddy sized hole.) I never understood why there were three holes. Even in our family, which was close, going to see Mrs. Murphy was not a group activity.
When we were getting our indoor plumbing, I remember them digging a big hole in our yard and a long trench out into the field. The hole alone would have been cool to a six year old, even if it hadn’t made Mrs. Murphy obsolete. The long trench made it even better.
Television was a real milestone on Chicken Road, but no one ever says that ANYTHING is the “greatest thing since TV.” I remember our first color TV. Not many programs were in color, but it was a big deal nonetheless. We got great reception, (on a good day) of all the ABC, NBC, and CBS programming. Actually, it was all the great ABC, NBC and CBS programs that WMAZ, Channel 13 carried.
Now, air conditioning; there is a milestone. I remember when people went to the movies not because of the new Cary Grant movie or to the grocery store not because they needed milk. There was a sign out front that said “Cool Inside” or “Air Conditioned” that lured folks in. Some of the signs looked frosty, as if to say, “Your sweat may freeze here, be careful!”
Alan Shepard blasting into space, John Glenn orbiting the earth, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landing on the moon, those were all a big deal to me. Do you ever hear ANYONE say, “That’s the greatest thing since Alan Shepard hit a golf ball on the moon”? I didn’t think so.
When sliced bread hit the market, soon after the depression struck, people began buying their bread that was no longer cooked in their neighborhood, but in a factory, miles away. There was uniform shape, size, weight, and number of slices in a loaf. How boring! Now bakeries are popping up all around, even in the mall. You can again buy it hot, fresh, and yes, they will even slice it for you. We have come full circle, from where we were so happy to leave just a couple of generations ago. So, saying something is the “greatest thing since sliced bread” is not the compliment that it appears to be. At least that's my opinion.
Next thing you know, someone will open a restaurant where customers can cook their own food, just like we used to do at home.
I remember being in a meeting once, listening to a contractor describe some wonderful product he was trying to sell. There was a group of Air Force civilians and military in the audience. The Colonel at the head of the table was obviously impressed and made reference to some feature being the “greatest thing since sliced bread.” I began to wonder just what made sliced bread such a watershed event.
You could certainly slice your own bread to make a sandwich long before it came presliced, all wrapped in a nice package and on the shelf in the grocery store. I guess sliced bread makes it a lot easier to be certain that the bread will fit in the electric toaster. However, not many folks had those either, even though electric toasters had been invented almost twenty years when sliced bread made its debut in the late 1920s. Good grief, we didn’t have electricity on Chicken Road until just before World War II and I don’t think we used much of it even then. What I am saying is that I didn’t live through the hardship of having to slice my own bread, but I can’t imagine that it would be that tough.
I do remember when we got indoor plumbing at my house. In my opinion, that was certainly the greatest thing since WAY BEFORE sliced bread. The summer before I started to school we finally got a bathroom. I don’t know what other families called their outhouse, but ours was always called Mrs. Murphy. I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t have to go see “Mrs. Murphy” in the dark and on cold mornings before the school bus came to pick me up. It was too far behind our house, covered in honeysuckle, and was a three holer (two big holes and one kiddy sized hole.) I never understood why there were three holes. Even in our family, which was close, going to see Mrs. Murphy was not a group activity.
When we were getting our indoor plumbing, I remember them digging a big hole in our yard and a long trench out into the field. The hole alone would have been cool to a six year old, even if it hadn’t made Mrs. Murphy obsolete. The long trench made it even better.
Television was a real milestone on Chicken Road, but no one ever says that ANYTHING is the “greatest thing since TV.” I remember our first color TV. Not many programs were in color, but it was a big deal nonetheless. We got great reception, (on a good day) of all the ABC, NBC, and CBS programming. Actually, it was all the great ABC, NBC and CBS programs that WMAZ, Channel 13 carried.
Now, air conditioning; there is a milestone. I remember when people went to the movies not because of the new Cary Grant movie or to the grocery store not because they needed milk. There was a sign out front that said “Cool Inside” or “Air Conditioned” that lured folks in. Some of the signs looked frosty, as if to say, “Your sweat may freeze here, be careful!”
Alan Shepard blasting into space, John Glenn orbiting the earth, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landing on the moon, those were all a big deal to me. Do you ever hear ANYONE say, “That’s the greatest thing since Alan Shepard hit a golf ball on the moon”? I didn’t think so.
When sliced bread hit the market, soon after the depression struck, people began buying their bread that was no longer cooked in their neighborhood, but in a factory, miles away. There was uniform shape, size, weight, and number of slices in a loaf. How boring! Now bakeries are popping up all around, even in the mall. You can again buy it hot, fresh, and yes, they will even slice it for you. We have come full circle, from where we were so happy to leave just a couple of generations ago. So, saying something is the “greatest thing since sliced bread” is not the compliment that it appears to be. At least that's my opinion.
Next thing you know, someone will open a restaurant where customers can cook their own food, just like we used to do at home.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
New Shoes
I have new shoes. In fact, I have two new pair of shoes. No, it is not what you think. Getting new shoes is not a religious experience for me. I just have an odd sized foot, so when I find my size at a fair price, I buy them, whether I need them or not.
Of course, having three daughters, I have been exposed to shoe zealots. At least two of them could go shopping for anything; jeans, a dress, office supplies, pizza, and they would come home with shoes. Sometimes multiple pair, often with a handbag too. I buy shoes out of necessity. They buy shoes that are “cute.” I buy shoes that fit and are not hideous. They would buy shoes that wouldn’t really fit, as long as they were cute. One of my daughters is a certified “flip-flop-aholic.”
I ordered my shoes online. They were marked down, had my size in multiple colors, so I ordered black ones and brown ones. I finally got around to trying them on this past weekend. As I was looking at them out of the box, I couldn’t help but think about a young woman I used to work with.
Daune was a very smart young woman, in the bookish way; but she lacked what my Uncle Freddie often referred to as “walking around” sense. She could do complex mathematical equations, but had problems with the more mundane tasks. She had been married enough times that we all knew not to buy her ANYTHING monogrammed. She had several children, one in daycare, others in different schools. Looking back, I am quite sure that getting that crew ready for school and herself ready to come to work was a lot like tending zoo.
One morning she came in late and seemed more frazzled than usual. I didn’t say one word. I waited until she had a couple of cups of coffee before I went to check on her. I finally asked, “Daune, have you had a hard morning?”
A little huffy, she replied, while sipping her second cup, “why no, why would you ask such a thing?”
“Well, I just happen to notice that you had on two different kinds of shoes this morning. That is just a little out of the ordinary for you.”
She pushed back from her desk, looked down at her feet and said, “Well Bill, that’s very observant of you. They’re essentially the same style. The only real difference is that one is black and the other a deep navy.”
“Well, it wasn’t the color that I noticed, it was the limp. That left shoe has at least an inch, maybe an inch and a half more heel that the right. I wouldn’t have made it in from the parking lot if I was tilted as much as you were this morning.”
All I heard was the coffee pot, and maybe a few crickets…….
Now that I think about it, I believe I will put my new shoes on the opposite ends of the closet, just in case. You just never know.
Of course, having three daughters, I have been exposed to shoe zealots. At least two of them could go shopping for anything; jeans, a dress, office supplies, pizza, and they would come home with shoes. Sometimes multiple pair, often with a handbag too. I buy shoes out of necessity. They buy shoes that are “cute.” I buy shoes that fit and are not hideous. They would buy shoes that wouldn’t really fit, as long as they were cute. One of my daughters is a certified “flip-flop-aholic.”
I ordered my shoes online. They were marked down, had my size in multiple colors, so I ordered black ones and brown ones. I finally got around to trying them on this past weekend. As I was looking at them out of the box, I couldn’t help but think about a young woman I used to work with.
Daune was a very smart young woman, in the bookish way; but she lacked what my Uncle Freddie often referred to as “walking around” sense. She could do complex mathematical equations, but had problems with the more mundane tasks. She had been married enough times that we all knew not to buy her ANYTHING monogrammed. She had several children, one in daycare, others in different schools. Looking back, I am quite sure that getting that crew ready for school and herself ready to come to work was a lot like tending zoo.
One morning she came in late and seemed more frazzled than usual. I didn’t say one word. I waited until she had a couple of cups of coffee before I went to check on her. I finally asked, “Daune, have you had a hard morning?”
A little huffy, she replied, while sipping her second cup, “why no, why would you ask such a thing?”
“Well, I just happen to notice that you had on two different kinds of shoes this morning. That is just a little out of the ordinary for you.”
She pushed back from her desk, looked down at her feet and said, “Well Bill, that’s very observant of you. They’re essentially the same style. The only real difference is that one is black and the other a deep navy.”
“Well, it wasn’t the color that I noticed, it was the limp. That left shoe has at least an inch, maybe an inch and a half more heel that the right. I wouldn’t have made it in from the parking lot if I was tilted as much as you were this morning.”
All I heard was the coffee pot, and maybe a few crickets…….
Now that I think about it, I believe I will put my new shoes on the opposite ends of the closet, just in case. You just never know.
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