My Father

Last week my step-father died.  He had suffered a series of illnesses and outlived them all.  He was a strong man in his youth and was tough to the end.  Finally his body decided he'd had enough.  He died in his own bed with his family in the house.

John was my father for as long as I remember.  My Mom and Dad divorced when I was a baby and Mom married John when I was 3.  We lived on small farm just outside of Decatur, IL.  Mom still lives there today.

John was a hard father.  He liked things done his way and was pretty intolerant of any variation.  And noisy kids made him mad.  Since most of our weekends were spent around our cousins (12-15 kids at a time), he had a lot of noisy kids around.  So he yelled at us.  We ended up spending lots of time outside on our 6 acres or outside on our cousins' 5 acres.

I was afraid of his anger.  I was afraid of spanking and of his lectures.  When we got in trouble, he'd lecture us.  And since he was long-winded anyway, they were long lectures.  There is one specifically I heard many many times.  The "Life is a Two-Way Street" lecture.  In this one, life is a 2-way street.  If you want to get something, you have to give something.  You should not expect to be just given something in life.  It was probably good advice.  But I heard it enough that I stopped listening to it.  It was just the "Life is a Two-Way Street" lecture.

My brother had a harder time with John.  I don't know if it was because he was the oldest or if it was because Terry was not one to do things John's way.  It's not important.  I was afraid for Terry and I was afraid for myself. 

I moved out when I went to college and came back that first summer for only 2 weeks.  Then I moved in with my Grandmother.  I could no longer take John telling me what to do.  I'd say that is pretty typical of an 18-year-old who knows everything.   

It was probably the best decision I ever made.  Not because I had to get away from John, but because once I lived elsewhere, I could get to know him.  I married early - and often - but John loved all my wives.  (as a side note, Michelle and I are going to be celebrating 20 years - I think I finally learned something about marriage).  And they loved him.  They didn't know "father" John.  They only knew the John the public knew.  That's the John I met after I moved out.

I forgave John for all he put me through as a child.  I called him in the early 80's to tell him so.  When he had brain surgery (he always seemed to need surgery), I went down to drive him home.  He thanked me.  He was very grateful - as if he knew he was hard on us when we were kids.

He loved his grandkids.  Here's a story about that says everything about my two fathers and their grandchildren.  One summer I went to visit my dad in Marion with my sons.  Dad sat around talking about himself and seemed to think that that is what kids wanted to do.  And he treated Andrew (my stepson) much worse that Brent (my biological son) when they were doing the same thing.  Then I went to Decatur to see John and Mom.  John had come up with a game for them to play outside.  Got all the stuff together and went out and played with them.  He wanted to play with his grandchildren, not have them listen to him.

John never met a stranger.  Anyone who stopped long enough to listen to him say hello got the pleasure of hearing some 20 minute story.  He liked to talk to people.  And his stories had minute detail.  My son once suggested a game where we tell a story as John would tell it.  I used to have an hour-long drive to take him home after a weekend at our house and we filled it once telling the story of how we went to the store to buy some soap.  He was famous - or infamous - for telling stories.

He liked to work with his hands.  In high school he took the carpentry class and built homes.  He went to work repairing gas and electric meters for Illinois Power.  When our house became too small, he built an addition - the addition was bigger than the house it was attached to.  He built it with his own hands, with help from his father and my uncle, mostly.  He fixed his own cars.  He repaired lawn mowers.  He gardened.  He took care of animals.  He put up fences.  He roofed.  And, when he retired, he started doing stained glass.  His first pieces were primitive, but he soon learned how to do intricate cuts and fine soldering and crafted some amazing art.  I have a lamp and a mirror.  There are lamps and light fixtures throughout their house.  And he made an amazing window by the front door.

But he rarely finished projects.  That addition he built?  Took years.  The bricks that were to be put on the face of the house sat in the driveway for literally 20 years.  He started things and didn't finish.  Or half-finished.  He moved on to the next project.  That is one of the lessons I took from him.  Finish projects.  I keep going until I am finished, even after exhaustion.  I hate leaving things unfinished.

So what is John's legacy?  He was a character.  I loved him and I'll miss him.  He is in a better place now and for that I am thankful.  I'm also thankful I could be there when he went.

I'll leave you with the essay I wrote and read at his funeral.  It is my tribute to my father, John:

John Traughber was my father.  I never called him "Dad".  He was always "John".  There was always a "step" before his title.  And I had a "Dad".

But John was my father.  He went to work every day for me and our family.  He built a house - eventually - for us.  He fed us with his hobbies - gardening and farm animals.  He adopted us with his actions which were more important than any legal proceedings.

John liked things done his way and he could be hard on us.  And yet I still don't drop sharp knives in the dishwater.  He shared his silly jokes and his comedy albums.  My wife often rolls her eyes as a result.

John told long stories.  And gave long lectures.  And prayed long prayers.  He taught me the importance of brevity.  I try to tell short stories, lectures and prayers.

John loved me and lectured me and punished me and took care of me.  He taught me how to be and how not to be a father.  That's what fathers do.

Goodbye father.  I'll miss you.

Things I Learned Watching Norm Stockton Play for Lincoln Brewster

Last weekend I went to see Lincoln Brewster perform at Willow Creek outside of Chicago.  I went because Norm Stockton plays bass for him, and Norm is my friend.

If you don't know Norm Stockton, he is a monster bass player.  Just great.  He has 3 cd's out, 2 solo, as well as producing and playing on his wife's.  He has also created a series of instructional videos that have been big sellers for years.  Go to his website:  http://normstockton.com.  I have 2 of his cd's.  I have a t-shirt he was selling at one time (still get comments).  He has slept in my house.

Anyway, go there and listen to some of the songs on his cd's.  He's slapping, chording, generally puling impossible music out of his instrument.

Now if you don't know Lincoln Brewster, he is a Christian praise music artist.  He is praise director at his (mega) church.  He is a great guitarist.  He has played for national artists, most notably Steve Perry (post-Journey).  Check him out at:  http://lincolnbrewster.com/.  He plays to huge audiences at huge Christian events.  Look at the photos on his website.  These are stadiums.

A word about Christian praise music.  It was made to be sung.  By a congregation.  In general, it does not have overly complex words, nor overly complex music.  Many of Lincoln's songs are in regular rotation in churches around the nation, played by regular Joes with varying degrees of talent who only play on weekends.  Praise music shouldn't be too hard to sing or play because regular Joes (and Joans) have to sing and play it.  And the purpose of praise music is to raise up God, not spotlight a musician.

Since Lincoln was at a church and much of his work is praise music, he was there to play praise music.  And praise we did.  So as I sat there (stood, actually) watching my monster-bass-playing friend playing music that our regular Joe (or Joan) is playing every week, I learned a few things.  I think they're important.  I think I learned something from him.

1.  Just because you can play rings around just about anyone in the free world doesn't mean you have to show it 
Norm played what needed to be played.  He supported the song.  There was no reason to show off the latest impossible chording in this setting and he didn't.  If I didn't know him, I would not expect the caliber of musicianship I hear on his cd's.  The music was great and people sang along and he just supported that.

2.  If you are a hired gun, you're there to support the hirer
Lincoln is a great guitarist.  And he showed it.  I believe people were there to hear him be a great guitarist.  He soloed on most if not all songs,  He was the center of attention and deserved to be.  He wrote the songs.  He put the band together.  Norm just supported him.  He didn't get the spotlight and he didn't need it.  He played his lines, he sang his back ups.  He engaged the audience in praise of God.  He did what he was hired to do and he did it well.  I know him pretty well and I assume he did it without complaint.

3.  Driving eighth notes drive emotion, no matter what the music
There was one song - I can't remember which - that had a driving 8th note beat.  The first thing I thought was "this is Norm Stockton and he's playing a driving 8th note.  He can slap and pluck and chord like a beast and he's playing 8th notes."  The second thing was less thought than emotion.  Driving 8ths just push a song.  You HAVE to pay attention!  Your body demands it.  This works in praise music to move a congregation into praising God.  It works in songs designed to get the chicks in bed because it drives emotion.  It works in anthems.  It works in protest songs.  It works in patriotic songs.  If you want to get your point across, drive a driving 8th note beat.  And, as a bassplayer, if you're asked to play a driving 8th note, play it with everything you've got.  Don't complain because that's all you get and the guitarist gets the cool stuff.  The cool stuff doesn't get the chick in bed with the guitarist.  The driving 8th note bass line gets the chick in bed with the guitarist.

4.  You got a free hand?  Use it!
In general playing bass, you play all through the song.  There's usually not much of a break.  But when you get a break - say you are playing an open note, or during a drum break - use it!  Raise your hand!  Pump your fist!  Clap!  Audiences/congregations respond to this.  Raise up your hand to God.  Raise up your fist to express your rage.  Flash a peace sign.  People notice!  That's what gets them involved in the music.  Sure the screaming guitar solo that melts everybody's face is what they think they're there for, but a screaming guitar solo that melts faces while other members of the band are clapping or gesturing REALLY gets an audience going.  Use those hands!

I tried some of these techniques during the Brother Tim show on Sunday.  I didn't complain about playing 8th notes or feel underutilyzed when I had to.  I drove that song!  I supported the other players.  And I raised my hand.  Thrust my fist into the air!  Raised my hand!  Started the audience clapping.  Finished singing a song with hand in air signifying victory.  And the audience responded.  We got a great reception.

I am not now, nor will I ever be a Norm Stockton solo performer/monster bass player.  I don't really aspire to be.  I'm in a band and I'm having the time of my life playing.  But what Norm did for me last weekend is opened my eyes as a regular Joe bassplayer.

Thanks Norm.

And everyone, go buy lots of his stuff.  He really is a monster!

Down East Vacation, Day 7

The morning started out cool and cloudy but not raining.  That was encouraging.  We decided to do some hiking down on Long Pond, near a small town called Southwest Harbor.  I pack up the usual stuff in my backpack, have some light breakfast and coffee and water and we head off.  We turn off at this parking lot for Echo Lake Beach.  First clue.  Note that this is not called "Long Pond" in any way.

I had told Michelle that our first hike wouldn't be too hard because her hiking shoes were still wet and she was wearing lighter footwear.  Still shoes, thank goodness, but not hiking shoes.  So we find a trailhead and off we go on what I thought was Long Pond Trail - a nice easy, but long, hike along Long Pond.

Clue #2.  There was no sign calling anything Long Pond Trail.  There was one called Canada Cliffs.  (Clue #3)  I was fooled then by another sign that says that you can't believe the names on the trails because they might be different than on our map (this makes no sense whatsoever to me, but whatever).  We march down the trail.  It goes away from the lake, but I'm still OK with this.  I keep looking at the map where I THINK we are and figure we're still OK.

We come to granite stairs.  Lots of granite stairs.  We climb up.  It is really a great hike, actually, and we're greatly enjoying it and I continue to believe we'll get to my trail.  We continue our climb up and the granite stairs end.  Now it's nice soft forest trail.  Quiet, lovely.  But this comes to an end also and we get to those granite rocks and climbs like on yesterday's Great Head trail.  We march on.

These rocks and climbs continue to rock and climb, sometimes broken by the occasional soft trail.  We climb and climb and finally come to the top, where we see a beautiful view of Echo Lake and the ocean beyond.  Yes, I said Echo Lake.  We go on a bit and come to another trail that we decide not to go on.  Finally, I'm looking at my map wondering where the loops are I was expecting.  I see the trail ahead (to more cliffs) on my map and then look at the name of the lake - Echo Lake.  That, in case you're wondering, is NOT Long Pond.

I finally figure out that the only way back is, well, back.  We turn around and head back down all those rocks and cliffs and climbs and stairs and get back to our car, exhausted.  We figure we need food to fuel up for another hike so we head into South West Harbor.  This is a very small town that is South West of North East Harbor.  It is NOT on the furthest South West part of the island.  That's Bass Harbor.  Anyway, there are a few shops and restaurants and we stop into one advertising seafood lasagna and pita sandwiches.  We hear of a tomato basil crab soup we have to try (oh my God, it was good!).  Michelle feels the need for greens and orders a salad with chicken.  I feel the need to continue my goal of having nothing but seafood as long as I'm in Maine and order the crabcake sandwich (fantastic!).  We wanted seafood lasagna but it was not on the lunch menu.

We finish off our meal with dessert, me with blueberry bread pudding and Michelle with Key Lime pie (the opposite end from Key Lime trees, but that's a quibble).  Michelle decides she is done hiking for the day and I want to go hike a strenuous hike - on Long Pond.  So Michelle heads off to shop and go to the library in South West Harbor and I head to Long Pond - really - to hike the "perpendicular trail".

On my way over, I finally spot some wildlife.  I see 2 elks.  That was it.  We didn't even see more than 4 birds that weren't seagulls, cormorants, or crows.  No snakes.  No bears.  No moose.  Not even a squirrel.  Nope, I take that back!  I saw a squirrel by the hotel.  I actually saw a beaver in Niagara Falls.  Nothing here in this national park.

So I get to Long Pond and find the trail head.  It goes up a mountain.  It is granite stairs.  Granite stairs broken only once by iron ladders. So I climbed up hundreds of granite stairs and get to the top of the mountain.  I know Michelle is waiting for me, but I'm not satisfied and I know these trails loop around (now that I have the correct bearings) so I decide to take the trail to the Great Notch.  I don't know what that is, but I'm intrigued.

I set off.  Instead of granite stairs, I'm greeted once again with the large rocks and cliffs and climbs.  I have to go down first.  It was wet and slick and treacherous, but I carry onward.  I actually have to sit down for some to get down because the step is too long or the landing is too small.  I walk down into one valley and go up again to the Great Notch.  There were a couple of times when I saw the blue trail markers and thought "Oh, Come ON!"  It was very strenuous and adventurous.  Very fun. I saw very few people.

I got the the Great Notch and was faced with another fork.  I decided that I really needed to head back so I started walking down through the bottom of a valley.  Much easier travelling if not for all the roots to trip over.   I get down and am walking over some rocks in a stream and see another hiker.  Apparently that distracted me because that's when my foot slipped and I fell.  Surprisingly I didn't hurt my knee altho I fell on it.  And didn't twist my ankle, either.  What I appeared to do is sprain my toe (I don't think it's broken).  And embarrassed myself.  Actually I was glad the guy was there because if I had injured myself he was there to help.

So I limp back down to the bottom.  Luckily it's easy through-the-woods hiking and I get back to my car.  I drive in to pick up Michelle and we head back to Bar Harbor.

At low tide in Bar Harbor, you can walk a sand bar over to Porcupine Island.  We knew this and intended to do it, but hadn't yet.  Since it was low tide and we were in Bar Harbor, we walked out to it.  It was cool that you could do it, and it offered great views of the town.  Not strenuous, altho the shore of the island was rocky.  We walked out, walked across the island to see the other side, walked back.  The sun was peaking out.  It was nice.

We walk back to the car and decide to explore the shops we hadn't seen yet.  Some were very nice local art shops with very expensive things in them.  Some were cheap, creepy souvenir shops.  When we figured we had seen everything, we went back in to one of the main ones because we (I) really wanted some kind of souvenir.  Finally, we found the right sweatshirts.  Happy now, we head out of town.

Did you know they catch lobsters in Maine?  Yes.  It is true!  Following recommendations from everyone we talked to, we head out off island to the lobster pounds.  I guess the lobster fishermen use them as the middlemen to sell their goods.  It is the place to go to get the freshest lobster anywhere.  Stuff that came off the boat today.  We find one that has parking, put in our name, and wait.  You put in your name so you can order.  Michelle waits and I go off to get some gas and buy some beer (these are BYOB places).  When I get back, they were calling names and we got to order.  I ordered the 1 1/2 pound lobster with a pound of mussels.  Michelle ordered the 1-pounder.  We find a seat (cheap picnic tables) inside (well, there were sort of walls, but it was open to the outside), crack open our beer and wait.  I am very excited.

They call our name and I pick up 2 trays heaped with seafood.  It comes with bread, corn on the cob, and slaw.  And drawn butter.  We eat it all.  There isn't even butter left.  And yes, of course you have to work for it.  No "lazy-man's" lobster here (restaurants in town offered that for a couple of dollars more).  We feast.  Yum!  I want more!  Now!

Ahem, anyway we have to leave the next morning so we head back.  A long tiring day.

And yes we leave at 7am local time.  We stop at a town just off the island at a bakery where we get fresh blueberry muffins, breakfast sandwiches on a fresh just-out-of-the-oven croissant, and a curry chicken salad sandwich on fresh honey wheat bread.   I decided to drive through New Hampshire and Vermont instead of taking the Interstate through Mass just to get a bit more New England before we're heading home.  It was the right choice.  They were lovely states with lots of quaint towns, inns, and shops.  And views.  We catch 90 in Albany and I turn the car over to Michelle.  She drives us through New York, Pennsylvania, and most of Ohio before turning it back to me.  I drive us into Indiana, but by now it is about 2am and I can't go anymore.  We pull off at a rest stop and sleep for a couple of hours.  Then I drive home.  Yes, we drove straight through.  24 hours.  We're nuts, but what's the point of paying big dollars for a hotel for 1 night.

 "Our" lobster pound

 A happy customer

 Lobster, mussels, corn, slaw, bread, a nice ale, drawn butter...ahhhh....

 Some "sculpture" on the rocky beach of the island

 2 women talking on a bench surrounded by wildflowers

 A fisherman at the end of the day

 Ocean vista

 Rocky shore and ocean vista

 Bar Harbor from the island

 Nice trail after rocky climbs

 How did that hole get in there??

 Trail through pines

 Great Notch

 The ocean in the distance

 Yes, I climbed up that "trail"

 And down this one

 Just beautiful country

 Some conservation corps work

 That's Southwest and Northeast Harbors

 A fire tower

 Granite stairs.  Lots of them

 And sometimes iron ladders

 Long Pond

 See?  I saw some wildlife.  This was the only sighting

 View of Echo Lake

 A tree uprooted.  Note how shallow and wide the roots are.

 A rest at the top

 Echo Lake from the mist

 No, that boulder seems pretty stable

 Up in the clouds

 Some color other than green

This is the nice, soft part of the trail

Down East Vacation, Day 6

We wake up and it’s raining.  Hard.  We expected it, but it’s still not too encouraging.  So we get ready and I go to the lobby to get on the Internet so you all are kept up to date.  By the time we’re ready to go, it has mostly stopped raining.  It’s cool – probably 60.  Our plan is to go to Sand Beach and do an along the water hike to some cliffs.  Rated “easy”.

And easy it was.  It was a 6’ wide gravel trail along the road.  Flip flop trail.  It had nice views, but it hardly gave us any challenge.  There were some granite rocks to climb out on and some people were doing some rock climbing.  And there was a large sailboat WAY out there.  It was pretty.  And it was, for the most part, dry.  We stop at a little gift shop along the way that used to be some kind of cabin which was quaint.  Didn’t buy anything.

We get back to the beach, hardly stressed, and decide to do an “Intermediate” rated trail called Great Head Trail (insert comment here).  Started out with some granite stairs.  Uphill, but not too stressing.  We get to the top of the stairs and take the right fork in the trail and come up to – a cliff.  The trail is marked by blue tape on trees and blue paint on rocks.  We look and the “trail” is going up these rocks.  So up we go.  It’s actually pretty strenuous and we have to have careful footing since it is wet.  Up, up we climb, continuing to look for trail markers.

We pass all kinds of people.  Some our age.  Some much older.  Some families, one with umbrellas.  As we near the top, it starts raining.  Starts out as a mist, and gradually gets heavier.  I break down and put on my poncho – actually it’s the poncho from Maid of the Mist – came in handy.  We continue up and down these rocks, following the blue trail markers.  It’s fun.  It’s adventurous.  It’s probably a little dangerous – actually more than a little.

The first trail was 4 miles.  It took us no time at all.  This one was 1.4 miles and it took us probably 2 hours.  Views were fantastic.  Trailblazing was fun.  Climbing was challenging.  This trail is 2 loops and we pass some people coming back that we had met before and we questioned whether we were going the right way.  We finally get to a trail marker where it points us to the parking lot for the trail or Sand Beach.  We came from Sand Beach, so that’s where we head.  Where does it go?  Up the rocks.  We question ourselves.  But we keep on.

We meet a family of 5 – the ones with umbrellas.  Their 3 kids are in a hurry to get down.  One is about 10 or 11 and is racing down.  The 7 or 8 year old is trying to keep up.  Then there is the 4-year old.  He wants to race down too, but Mom is understandably panicky about this prospect.  Remember this is now DOWN these rocks we climbed up to get there.  She finally has to yell at him to slow down and wait.  He slips down once and claims “I meant to do that”.  Then he slipped again and put his hand in a puddle and says “I didn’t mean to do that”.  They go down ahead of us.

We get back down to the beach, pretty tired, actually.  We felt adventurous.  We see some surfers on pretty big waves.  Then we meet the oldest of that family – and he’s looking for them.  Later in the parking lot I saw Mom who was looking for him.  Hope they met up.

We need sustenance so we go into Bar Harbor.  Bar Harbor is a typical tourist town, filled with shops and restaurants.  We go into a restaurant and have the fish and chips.  Fresh, delicious.  I sample a local brew.  Delish.  

We mail a postcard.  Go through some t-shirt shops – actually MOST of the t-shirt shops.  And for some reason Bar Harbor likes peace signs.  EVERYTHING sported them.  Not sure the significance.  Anyway, we spent another 3 hours or more browsing shops and manage to buy one sticker for my car.  The best shop was an art store filled with goods from local artists.  Things like woodworking, knitting, hand-spun yarns, fashions, glass, pottery – we wanted everything.  But wow, it was expensive.  A hand-knitted scarf cost $125.  There was a basket for $2000.  Beautiful stuff and we wanted it, but not that much.

We trolled a few more stores and went home.  Tired, feeling adventurous, and ready for another day’s hiking.  Tomorrow?  Cloudy, low 70’s.  We explore the South West side of the island.

Bar Harbor downtown area

Sand Beach from easy trail

Dying trees along trail.  Michelle in lovely Maid of the Mist Blue

Rocky beach below trail

Maine Atlantic coastline

I wanna be a cowboy

Plants hanging onto life on the cliffs

Easy trail.  Real easy

Wonder if a sailor of yore could use that pole for something?

Rock climbers climbing ocean cliffs

Trying to get the surf splashing over the rocks

Hmmmmmmm

Um, penis rock?

Sand beach.  It was, um, sandy

Michelle on Sandy Beach

Above on the Intermediate trail

Taking a rest

Near the top.  That's a trail marker

Beautiful Acadia vistas

Michelle!  Over here!

Large sailboat enjoying the rain

Looking out over the ocean

Wait!  Don't go!  Over here!

Just about the only "wildlife" we saw

Hey, peace man!  My traditional pose.

The Granite State.  Anyone see their new countertops here?

More rocky costline

Climbing on up the trail

The marker.  Great Head

Cranberries?

An easy part of the trail

Michelle's trying to straighten a crooked tree?

Wait, the trail is where exactly?

Can you find the blue trail markers?

Seriously, where is the trail??

I see one blue marker here...

Yes, this is a trail....

A tidal pool on Sand Beach

Low tide

Surfers

This guy probably won't be happy when he gets back.