Don't Get No Jizz Upon That Sofa....

...ok, now that I've got your attention, the addendum to the title of this post is "...Where Music and Memories Can Take You."




Apparently, 50 is the age where you start looking backward. Because you've acquired life experience that you had no idea was relevant as you were going on your merry way, you can't anticipate those moments when you're figuratively standing on your path, looking backward and reflecting on where you've come from. And then you suddenly find yourself sounding like your grandparents. This weekend, at a performance of "Joe's Garage" (produced by the Zappa Family Trust), I had the immense privilege of being led back down that path by Frank Zappa.

For many, Zappa is an unknown entity, for others (like me) he is burned into our consciousness. If you've spent any time around musicians, a tour bus, groupies or roadies, you'll know what I'm talking about.

He passed away on Dec. 4, 1993, but Until Dec. 20th he is alive and well at the Open Fist Theatre in Hollywood. I attended the show with The Former Mr. R. and our bro-in-law Bill; the only two people I know who would get it.

We were blown away by the interpretation of the content and the level of skill of the musicians (Zappa music ain't easy). Near the end of the show, as I sat in the darkened theater with TFMR listening to "Watermelon in Easter Hay", one of the 3 songs that Gail Zappa will never allow to be reproduced by anyone, anywhere, in any way (thank you Gail), I realized that for more than 25 years the language of Frank, which is like no other, was the language of our relationship. With divorce, the dynamic of that relationship has changed, but we are friends and the language remains the same.

If he sings the first few bars of "Crew Slut", I automatically chime in. At Christmas, I still sing-sing "I've got a present for youoooo"; and we both still think that "Fuck me, you ugly sonofabitch!" sung in German, is hysterical. And only those in the know will know what we mean when we say..."It looks just like a TeleFunken U-47!"

So as I sat in the dark with tears in my eyes meditating on Frank; I said a little prayer of thanks. I'm thankful to be able to look back on an interesting life; one filled with a love of wacky verbiage that we have passed on to our kids. For having the privilege to raise two extraordinary human beings who have a sophisticated sense of humor, who seek out and embrace the ridiculous and the obtuse; and who also have a healthy love of politics, and willingly question authority.

Thank you to the Zappa Family Trust.
Thank you Frank.

Thank You, Merci, Danke, Gracias...

When we are mired in distress, as we are in the Long War, it is so easy to distance ourselves from those who are doing the work. The Bush Administration has made sure that they remain invisible and far from our consciousness.

One of my greatest joys of the last two years has been to serve as a Soldier's Angel. My adopted soldiers made it home safely to their families, but they came back changed men. I always say... and believe with all my heart... that love heals all. Maybe you'll find it in your hearts to adopt a soldier; maybe you'll just send a letter to let a young man or woman, far from home, know that they are not forgotten. Maybe when you're out and about today and see a veteran, you'll just shake his or her hand and say "thank you."

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A Day of Remembrance, and Thanks
By Laughing Wolf

Today is a special and unique holiday. It is a day of giving thanks, not for all blessings, but for one. It is a day not of fireworks and revelry, but of quiet celebration. It is a day not focused on an event, but on the people who have made the events of our lives, and the freedom in which we -- and others elsewhere -- live them, possible

It is not a day for politics, causes, or debates and any who would make it so do nothing but show ignorance and contempt for those Men, male and female, who are the focus of this day. Such creatures who would hijack and defile this day with such crass self-interest and -absorption are but soulless shells bereft of dignity, integrity, courage, and honor. They are unworthy of any strong emotion, even contempt; are worth contemplation this day merely for comparison to and with those we honor; and, deserve only pity, for they too could have been Men.

For today, we honor those who have stood in defense of our freedom; and, most of all, we honor those that fell so doing. Most have indeed been male; but, more than many realize have been female. From Molly Pitcher to the women who masqueraded as males to fight in that war between the states; from those that disguised themselves to sail on ships of wood and sail to those that fight this day we have always been blessed with women of courage, integrity, and bravery. Gender matters not; nor does it matter if one stepped forward or was summoned, for all answered the call. They joined that thin coloured line, and stood fast.

What cowards would abandon, and tyrants destroy, they saved. Their shoulders have truly held our skies suspended, and their blood has paid the price of freedom for us and for others.

The ideals, the slogans, and ultimately even home and hearth were not why they stood. When the bugles call, the bullets fly, and the bombs burst such things become of minor import. What matters then is love and duty. Not a duty to some higher power or state; rather, the duty one has to one's brother in arms. What shell they inhabit means naught at such a time, and what they were before means less than nothing at all. The only thing that matters then is that they are with you and you with them, and the love and duty that exists between at that moment is all. They will not be failed. So Tommy steps forward unto the breech, Molly takes over the cannon and fires, and unsung heroes step forward into the fire.

Some walk among us now. Others lie with Brothers amidst peaceful grass. Still more rest where they fell, unmarked on land or sea.

Today is not a day for torrents of praise or empty posturing. It is a day for but two words and two actions.

Those two words are "Thank You"; and, the two actions are to say them to those who have stood and stand among us, and to remember those who stand in memories forever green. They saved things not for the sum of pay, but for each of us and all who come after. They saved them for the higher things, and for that Band of Brothers to which they for eternity belong.

Take the time today. Quietly say the words to those who serve, be they old or be they young. Take time throughout the day and remember their sacrifice, and most especially remember those who have paid the ultimate price for freedom and are not here in flesh to hear your words.

LW