"Your Love is King" by Sade

Sade. What can I say but I love the music of Sade. When I was in High School, I was like any other teenager in that I was looking for something to call my own. And like a lot of other teenagers I thought that the key to discovering who I was lay in finding some really cool band. Now I hung around with the ‘alternative’ crowd and we prided ourselves on the bands that we liked. Looking back now it is all very silly. In looking for a band that was new and interesting, we often chose the same band. So in discovering our individuality we flocked like lemmings to the same bottom forty. I was a little different though in that I understood what was happening and actually began to like the hunt for new music rather than the bands that I still have in my CD collection (I know it should be somewhere digitized but I still don’t have cyber-space room for it and in addition no time to go through all of my back catalog.

So I would read magazines like Q and Rolling Stone and really reach for those bands that I had never heard of. I am happy to say that I was one of the first (that I knew of) to ‘discover’ the greatness that is Sade. At this time she had had one hit and I had read about it from the English magazine Q. I then started to search for anything of hers and it was not until about a year later that she collected most of her singles into her first album. Then she took off and became what she is today; a popular songstress. So the world stole my music from me. To give you some idea about the freshness of Sade at the time I was hanging out with my older brother M (first initials only to protect the identities of my social network. M had a radio show on the local college radio station KUNR. Every Sunday M would play the most contemporary modern jazz, what I now know of as San Diego Jazz. I gave him my cassette tape of Sade and he loved it right away and subsequently put it into heavy rotation on his show. (I would later go to the same college radio station for my own show, “The Mood Mode” that I will write about someday.
So the world took the music but they could not spoil what the music meant to me. One of the things that I took from Sade is that music can convey so much of the mystery of the world. One mystery that it certainly helps with is love. Even though I, like all teenagers, liked to kid myself that I understood love; I didn’t. We understood lust, infatuation, and desire, but not love. Even then I knew this. Listening to Sade I could feel the love in her music. I remember thinking that here is someone who is in love in her life and lets me feel it. Here is someone who has discovered something about love that I can only try to understand. Try as I might though, I felt it without understanding it. I wanted to experience that love but was never able. Women are so shallow in high school, at least the vast majority. So are men at that age. I wanted to go deeper into a relationship than any young high school girl was willing or able to go. Instead, my intensity seemed to scare them off.

I have always been more concerned with the temporariness of life and knew that I would one day be able to feel that love when I found the right person. The only was to understand the love found in Sade’s music is to be in love like Sade. I never found that love, until I found A. I do not know how my Editors know these things, but it was very appropriate when D chose “Your Love is King” to write about as my first idea. Sure D shares his Birthday with our anniversary (a story that I will tell someday) but could he have known that October 4th is A’s birthday and on October 10th it will be our 20th Anniversary. I like to think D knew or if he did not it is just good kismet.

Because it was A who taught me how to love and be loved. It is A who continues to teach me about how to love and be loved. I do not know, and indeed do not want to know, what my life would have been like without having found A. By all the facts and evidence, I do not deserve the wife that I have. I had never felt love the way I felt it when A is looking at me. And that is the reason I asked her to marry me. So the first dance we had as a couple at out reception was “Your Love Is King” by Sade. So then that idea that it is the one who you love who is the King of your heart, the idea that you could spend your life together with someone, the idea that another is necessary for you to have a good life, that love is a mystery that can only be solved as a couple. That is the Idea I have when I hear that song and when I look at my Beautiful Wife. Happy Birthday.

So my Editors have been given the following list and have been asked to make choices that I cannot, like what to write first. The first of the Editors to choose gets to choose the topic of my next IdeaMan post, and so on.

Comic book ideas: Roof, Lifeguard, Nowhere Found, IdeaMan & the Editors. (Choose one).
Book ideas: Brian Kando
Television Series ideas: The Belle Époque, The Mood Mode
Movies: Timeshare
Music ideas: “Your love is King” by Sade, “Forbidden Fruit” by the Blow Monkeys, The Mood Mode (Choose one)
Explaining “The Matrix” Trilogy
What is political science fiction?
Why I am into my students.
Why I call myself a liberal republican.
Why I call myself a feminist and collect comics about women.
The carving of the diamond of your life
Environmentalism for me.
My favorite bands and why: Trash Can Sinatras, Prefab Sprout, The New Radicals, Jack’s Mannequin (Choose one)
My favorite artists and why: Remedios Varo, Eyvind Earle, Christo, Michael Parkes, Ashley Wood, Kenneth Rocafort, Humberto Ramos, Partick Woodroffe, Nick Bantock (Choose one)
The scientist in me and the Republican Party.

I had an idea

So I have been reading a lot of comic books lately and was recently thinking about the subtle superpowers that we seem to all have if we only are attuned to what is special inside of all of us. If I were to discuss my superpowers it would be that I am relatively smart and, because I read a lot of science fiction, comic books, and graphic novels, seem to have some good ideas on occasion. Not earth-shattering ideas mind you, but good ideas nonetheless. These ideas can be anything; ideas regarding interesting stories that I would want to see written or developed in any medium, ideas about the future and how we can make the future a better place, ideas about politics in America., ideas about love and relationships, ideas about parenting,

And I also understand that in the 21st Century ideas are easy to share. One of the ways that we refer to the world we are currently living in is The Information Age. In such an age, ideas are king. Just look at anything within the entertainment medium. It all begins with an idea. Just think about all of the new companies that began with a simple idea. So I know ideas can be powerful things. That is why I started this blog; to share ideas. While I have good ideas all the time, I never know what to do with them. I am so busy trying to prepare my students here at Folsom Lake College for the success that seems increasingly out of reach, trying to raise two beautiful boys, spend time with my wife of twenty years, and seize any opportunity I have to read and watch news, that I simply do not have the energy or time to do anything with these ideas. But I am sure that something can be done with some of them. Even those that do not lead to anything substantial or are not intended for any purpose other than to be read are still worth something because I have gained a little wisdom (not much but some) in my time on this planet.

You all know what I am talking about. We all imagine inventing something or creating something that will lead to fame and riches. For instance, I played that game in the past about inventing something so I do not have to work. What I came up with around twenty years ago was the idea that cars should have a ‘U-Turn Light.” Now if I had had this blog up and running back then (not that it was possible because it was before the Internet) I would be sitting pretty because now they are making cars with signals indicating a U-turn. Doh! Somebody had my idea and was also a doer. So they get the rewards. So at this blog I will have some record of some ideas that might benefit me or someone else in the future. Other ideas will just bring some more insanity to the world. One of my other ideas is a comic book reading light, but I get ahead of myself.

So the way it is going to work is I am going to use my social network, which remains quite small, to edit my ideas. My friends and family on Facebook are going to be given a list of ideas that I have had over the years. This list will be continually updated with any new ideas I may have. So my friends and family are my superhero sidekicks known as the Editors. I will ask them to choose which ideas I should explore here at this blog with the larger universe and which ideas I should only share with them. Not all my ideas are good and some should not be shared because I do have a public life as a Professor of Political Science Fiction. I don’t always know which are which, so the Editors will choose for me. They are here right now on the internets, watch out. The first to choose from the list sets me on my purpose and on down the line. So we will see how it goes and hopefully both the editors and any others who might find me will be intrigued, entertained, and enlightened. Maybe a few of us will collaborate on making some of these ideas realities.

Next post will explain some of the rules for any who want to participate. Rules that will be necessary so my students and others can also use and comment on these ideas.

So let us get to superheroing.

Hearing is Wonderful

So I have, for three weeks been wrestling with a loss of hearing. Most people when asked to choose to give up hearing or sight, would choose hearing. Sight allows us to maintain more of our independence. I would still choose to lose my hearing...but now I would hesitate more. Not being able to hear was extremely isolating and, while I usually feel more alone than most, I felt extremely cut off from the rest of the people in my life. I have since had my hearing restored and I cannot express how great it is to hear my boys, my wife, my students, and my music. I would love to hear all of your voices too.... if only Facebook had some audio capabilities. Still give me call and say Hi I would love to hear your voice whoever you are. IT is like my ears have been born again. Two band that you must hear are Jack's Mannequin and the Postal Service.

Snow Pop

So a few days ago I am reading the HuffPost and come across an article that really speaks to me. What would you do if you lived life by being aware of death? I know for those of you who are my siblings, which I may not express it as much as I should but I think about our Father all the time. He is not long for this world and I often wonder what is going through his mind. I want someone in Reno to print this out and deliver it to him as it is kind of like the letter I haven’t written to him, although I am always meaning to. I got to thinking about that article and my father and became intrigued with the possibility of communicating to my boys when, in the future, they might want to know a few things about their old man. I would love to know some stories about my Father, my mother, my siblings. Stories that those closest to them would want to know even when they are gone. If that sounds morbid, get over yourself and read that HuffPost. So instead of asking “What would you do if you weren’t afraid to die?” how about what would you like your family and friends to know when you yourself are dead? Everything on the interwebs is backed up and recorded now for all posterity’s sake. So I can imagine my great-grandson or daughter searching for information on me and what would I want him/her to know.

So I am writing to you in the future and hopefully these stories will help you to remember both me and the people who they are about. Let me be clear. These are stories of my life so some of my social network is bound to be in some of them. I will only sometimes change the names to protect the innocent, but you probably will know when I am talking about you or some memory I have of you. For some of you these stories will be old news. For all of your concerns, I say get over yourselves and embrace the story for what it is and enjoy and share it. The stories are not meant for you but for those who are alive in the year 2100.

So my first story will be about my father and one of my most cherished memories of my father and what he really means to me. You see, my first two years in high school were not awful, but not good either. I had yet to really figure out a way to make friends for my freshman and sophomore year. You see I had to transfer my eighth grade year to a new middle school, Swope Middle School. At my old school I had had more friends if only because I had basically been in the class with the same people since second grade. I was tested early and was placed in the Academically Talented Program. The only reason I had friends therefore was because, given enough time, I had been able to interact with them to such a degree that I was able to figure them out over time and learn what proper behavior they expected of a friend. This completely changed when I transferred. I know no one at Swope Middle School and, as the new kid with no social skills, was relentlessly teased by one of the most popular girls in the eighth grade, Nancy.

Nancy ultimately turned everyone against me and I remember that my only friend for the whole year turned out to be the art teacher who liked to drink on the job. I would help him keep his room clean, he would cut me some slack on the art assignments and we would talk sometimes. While I now know that Nancy was just a normal, typical adolescent girl, it did not change the fact that she bullied me and ultimately made me a very lonely eighth, ninth, and tenth grader. This was even more stressful during my young life because I had my first school crushes during those years. The first girl I ever had a crush on in school was Belinda. She of course took no notice of me because she herself was swept up in the popularity contests common at those ages. She would have probably been my friend if not for the fact that Nancy, as a cheerleader, decided who was popular or not. Still, I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen and when I saw her she made life a little more bearable. Interestingly enough, eventually I became somewhat of a friend of Belinda, and she turned out to be the exact girl I always pictured she would be and I have a wonderful memory of being alone in her house with her (I do not know to this day how I managed an invite). Alone with my first crush, it was almost more than I could take but the kindness, openness, and understanding that she showed me when I confessed my crush speaks volumes as to how she deserved to have someone have a crush on her. That will be a story for another day, that odd visit.

Looking back now I also understand that class also had a role to play. We in America like to delude ourselves that class does not matter. Go back and talk to my old self in high school and you will find a different America. Quite simply, I lived in apartment central on Brinkby Lane in Reno. Brinkby nowadays is plagued by too many people in too small a place, something that happens in poorer neighborhoods. So one reason that I had a hard time making friends was definitely that I was the poor boy among a student population whose parents were much better off than me and lived in houses. Indeed it was not until my junior year in high school that I actually became friends with anybody. And that was due not to any change on my part but because I was friends with two very interesting fellows, Chris and Harry. For some reason everybody was interested in these two new guys and it was only dumb luck that I became part of that trio. The summer before my Junior year I was working at the Peppermill Inn as a lifeguard and became friends with the new runner who just happened to be the son of the then CEO of Peppermill. That was a great summer because they made me popular and we would go up to Lake Tahoe and try to hook-up with the ladies up there and smoke clove cigarettes. Harry also live in Apartmentville but had an energy about him and a definite charisma too him that seemed to always charm the socks off of the ladies. (In fact they even managed to eventually charm the two ladies from high school that luckily for me are still part of my social network.) Then there was pimply-faced and awkward me hanging out with these two and just being glad I was along for the ride. These are all stories I will expand on later but I wanted to return to my father.

Remember I said I was a lonely freshman and sophomore. My father is a good man. Yes he puts on airs of being a curmudgeon. Yes he can be negative and a bit grating sometimes. But he is really soft and loving inside. While he may have a difficult time expressing it (and really what man does not) but his actions have always called the loudest to me of his good nature and his deep love and affection for all of his kids. I mention this because he might have been sensing the depression in me or just wanted to hang out. It was also the middle of winter. I remember being called into the vice principal’s office. This was not uncommon for me as I was extremely bored in high school because of my big brain and I was also acting out because I was a little stressed from having no friends. Whatever I was not shocked to be called to the VP’s office but was surprised when I walked into the office and saw my Dad sitting there looking at me with a dumb grin on his face (the same dumb grin on Andy’s face in the movie “The Shawshank Redemption. I feared I was in real trouble but the secretary just said that my Father had come to take me to my dentist appointment. I didn’t know that I had a dentist appointment and was to learn a little later that I really didn’t have one.

You see my father had wanted to hang out with me. He wanted some company and so we went to get breakfast and I was a happy son. It is all hazy to me now because I was so happy to get out of school and even happier that my Father had chosen me to share an adventure with. Later, though, I remember doing donuts in the snow at the new Meadowood Mall in Reno. I can always bring up that vision of my father laughing his ass off, looking at me as I was smashed against the seat and was thrown about the car while my, and spinning the wheel on his maroon station wagon back-and forth.

So my Father rescued me for at least that day because he became the friend that I so desperately needed. He was not just my Pop, but he was my friend. So even when my father is gone, and it will happen to everybody someday, he will still be here every time I see someone sliding through the snow in their car, or when there is a movie where a car is fishtailing. This I believe is what it means to live on after you are gone.

I have more stories to come and I hope you return as I am going to attempt to write more often and about my memories I have with all my friends and family.