Volume 16 – #11 – November 2013

Each of us, whether we’re aware of it or not, is always just trying to maneuver through the next complicated moment, encumbered by circumstances beyond our control. We’re usually bombarded by clues about how to do it and, on occasion, something resonates, I guess, and whatever that “light bulb moment” was affects our decisions. Sometimes all I see are desperate people; clueless, desperate people, getting through the next however many hours or days or months. We humans have ourselves in a pickle and there are just too damn many of us to get properly organized, under an umbrella of common needs and desires. That’s why everything is so hard and why everything is an emergency. Happiness boils down to crowd control, it seems; being sure that all of the systems are in order, so nothing gets out of whack or clogged up or severed. I seem to feel the spectre of this most strongly around the holidays. The hustle and bustle, portrayed by happy, smiling shoppers in TV commercials, looks more and more, to me, like decaying zombies doing the cadaver dance, but with more fear than I usually pick up from zombies, more like worried zombies. We have to justify our existence, right? We have to pay homage to something, right? Why not let the justification be the system? Our holiday rituals that revolve around keeping the money flowing are the same thing as those elaborate synchronized displays we see from the stadiums in North Korea. Keeping the order AND giving the impression that if the order is adhered to, all is well. In the USA, we buy the latest whatever and in North Korea the girl on the 86th row, in section G holds up the right card at the right time. Look how beautiful it is when all those cards are held up properly and then look at the satisfied, peaceful faces of exhausted and raw parents when their kids freak out, in a good way, over their gifts. Order has been maintained. The status quo is intact. I’m normal. I succeeded. The effort was justified. Merry Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, and Hanukkah, and winter holidays, in general, our song list has taken its annual trip to the world of seasonal favorites and familiar melodies associated with people putting trees in their houses. We’ve revived a couple of ex-BC standards and have added a few new things as well as punched up some arrangements. This will be the first year in decades that we won’t even be in Denton the night of the tree lighting ceremony. It’s definitely weird but things change and Houston and San Antonio are calling for our special take on the music instead that first weekend in December. Our downtown square will, once again, not be rocking the twist, polka, cumbia, cha cha. No one will be singing, “Must Be Santa.” There will be no special Christmas “Hokey Pokey.” Our minor-key “Jingle Bells” played woefully on a solo violin would be appropriate right now. But stop the wailing! Not all is lost. Brave Combo will be performing a special holiday show at Dan’s Silverleaf in Denton on Saturday, December 21, for our devoted DFW friends and fans who need a fix. As well, we’ll be making our yearly trek to St. Louis and Chicago and have even added a Tulsa show on the way. If you live anywhere near these fine cities, check our itinerary and come out with your red pants on and mistletoe in your hair, ready for l’amour.

Here’s something unusual. A couple of artists from Santa Cruz, California will be making a book, actually a sculpture/book, out of one of my accordions for the University of North Texas permanent collection. It’s a little hard to describe so you’ll all have to come to the opening reception for the show early next year and look it over. There will be photos of me playing the accordion as well as some writings about my experience in an accordion-involved life. The instrument I donated was one of my early Roma 42-bass accordions. It’s red. You’ve seen me play it.

I’m writing this on my birthday. At my request, around the Finch house, we keep it so low key it’s almost no different from any other day. The dogs and cats are still demanding, the same way they were yesterday. I still have to do all the normal stuff, like eat and brush my teeth. Mundane errands happen on birthdays anyway, so I figure it’s best to have little or no expectations about it being special, beyond a couple of simple traditions. On the other hand, I insist on everyday being pretty full of fun and I rarely allow myself to be too inconvenienced by anyone ever, which means I’ll always try to get my way if I can. Not to be rude, it just hurts to wake up before about 10:00 AM. My wife, Jane, just had knee surgery so I made an exception in her case and changed my routine a little for a few days. And, I’ll go one step further. If you are American, living in the USA, you are the same way. You want everyday to have at least a little bit of party. Those things that used to be once-a-year special treats don’t exist anymore. We all want a version of those special treats everyday and it’s sorta critical that we get them. Life is hard. Life is suffering. Plus, we’re entitled to everything, damn it, and those pick-me-ups are critical to our ability to make it to bedtime. It’s nothing new, since we started paying attention to the phenomenon of distractions and its value on this planet. Food is a biggie, as are attention suckers, like computers and television. Drugs and alcohol, of course, rate way up there. And hobbies, like collecting stuff. But there are subtle ones, like bargain shopping and the hatred of oneself and others. There’s also unbridled blaming, anger and ego-driven confusion, all fabulous distractions from drudgery and pain. And, of course, the symptoms of discomfort are temporarily relieved by seeing that discomfort in others. So, that’s why I want it laid back on my birthday. The fewer people that know, the better. But if you’re reading this and thinking that I’m sounding sad and dark and want to send me some money to cheer me up, that’s cool with me. I guarantee I’ll buy something that will bring me pleasure, but it might be something like a disco shirt (lots of sequins) for Eddy, our fattest cat.

I would like to wish all of you a fabulous end of the year, whatever that means to you. Reflect on what’s happened, but not to the point that you’re suicidal. Concentrate on the not-so-bad things and you’ll probably find enough reason to keep going, at least one more year. So, with that little bit of encouragement (and I do mean little) Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.