Browse Category: Music

Gimme Three Steps

gimme three steps
No place better to leave your troubles than a trail

I got out for a run today. It had been too long again. I hadn’t run since the first of the month. 29 days between runs is probably too long of a recovery period.

There’s a 3-mile trail loop 1 mile from my house. I can take a few streets through a nice neighborhood to run there. But running through those streets annoys me, bores me, demotivates me. So I’ve been driving the 1 mile over to the trail and parking my car on the street. I do the 3-mile loop and drive back home.

This is what I did yesterday and it felt so good. Aerobically it killed me for the first 15 minutes. But, man, it did my spirit a world of good! Three steps down that trail and I already felt the cares falling off my shoulders. You know it’s been too long since your last run when the feel of dirt under your feet brings happy tears to your eyes.

I need to get back to more regular running. I still have big running goals to achieve. Today I’m just happy to have gotten a few miles in.

My thanks to Lynyrd Skynyrd from whom I’ve stolen the title for this post. Here’s a great video of it.

Boogie-Oogie-Oogie

While you were going about your business on a Friday night, “The Electric Slide” was going down in Wilkes-Barre, PA.

I am always amused by the spectacle that is “The Electric Slide.” Whenever it is played at an event, whether it be a wedding reception, a class reunion, or in this case, a high school graduation party, the dance floor becomes the domain of a particular type of dancers. Those not participating are unable to turn their eyes away from the action on the floor.

Nearly always, the dancers are all women. In all my years of wedding receptions and company holiday parties, when “The Electric Slide” starts to play, I have seen dance floors full of women with one or two men only now and then in a blue moon. It’s a ladies thing. I will add that it is typically a thing enjoyed by ladies of a certain age. They are often wearing capri pants. Ladies of the capri-pants-wearing age.

But I don’t know if they really “enjoy” this dance. They either look dead serious about getting the moves right or they slide into an expression that says, “Don’t look at me, but look at me.” They also tend to either look down at their own bodies with glints of admiration in their eyes or they set their gaze somewhere off in the distance. They don’t ever make eye contact with the audience.

As for those of us in the audience, we root for them to get the moves right. It’s gratifying to witness several rows of women cross step right, cross step left, step back, clap, bend down, turn 90 degrees. We watch them with envy wishing we had the courage to get out there and do it. It’s the same way we feel about taking a Zumba class. We wish we could be part of the synchronized spectacular on the floor rather than the mob of dimly lit faces on the periphery of the dance floor flood lights. We are here without a purpose. Those dancers are going somewhere.

But then the song is over and “Sweet Caroline” starts revving up. We all participate like a unified congregation and sing, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” along with Mr. Diamond and we feel like we belong and we are all equal.

Yet, somewhere in the back of our minds, we know that there are those among us who can do “The Electric Slide” and those who can’t. “Boogie-Oogie-Oogie” trumps “Oh! Oh! Oh!” It always will.

Creepy Gnome

The creepy gnome who keeps watch on my porch

Long ago, I was in a band called Gnome Dust. I wrote about that in this post from 2003: “The Drummer’s Story.”

Here are photos from that time we recorded a demo in a basement of an old building that used to be a church and our guitarist was literally in the furnace room: “Gnome Dust Recording in Bloomfield, NJ.”

And here are photos from the one and only gig we played: “Gnome Dust at the Wreck Room.”

I now live not far from where we used to rehearse. I regret losing touch with those guys and often wonder what they are up to. One of the guys had some heart issues. I always wonder how he’s doing. I don’t even know how to get in touch with any of them. Why do I let that happen in life?