BACK TO SCHOOL

"Won't you take me back to school?
I need to learn the golden rule..."

The Voice, The Moody Blues


It may sound odd as a teacher to say that I love back-to-school time, but in a lot of ways, it's like being a kid again.

(It's especially better now because I don't have to go back early for band practice anymore. I'll get back to that.)

I loved back-to-school time, mainly because of school supplies. There's nothing cooler than opening a brand new spiral notebook with a really cool picture on the cover. Even one that DOESN'T have a cool picture on the cover. New pencils and pens in all different colors. (Purple especially. I have a lot of old notebooks that bleed purple ink.) Folders and binders and calendars. And then they started making paper clips and binder clips in different colors. Wow. Glue and scissors and pencil boxes and crayons. Oh yeah-that new box of crayons. All 64 colors. Isn't there one now that has 108? I think we were gypped-kids have all kinds of cool stuff now.

I couldn't wait to buy all my stuff for the new school year. Even in high school. And college was fun, too. I didn't even mind buying books. I do NOW, but I wasn't paying for them in my undergrad years. (Thanks, Mom & Dad!) Selling them back was quite beneficial. I think I bought lawn furniture one summer.

Nowadays, we have big superstores FULL of school supplies. A far cry from the little stationery stores that reeked of ink. Staples has become my favorite. Not only because they have all that cool paper stuff, but they have cool gadgets, too. Technology hasn't taken too much fun out of the pen and paper racket. It's like a bonus.

One of the cool things about being a teacher is that I can get school supplies for free. (Sort of.) I go to the supply closet...and shop. I first experienced this when I worked as a file clerk in Little Rock and got to dig around in the supply room. Then when I started teaching in McGehee, they gave us a whole box of stuff at the first of each year. In Los Alamos, the foreign language department had its own supply closet, and it happened to be at the back of my classroom the second year I was there. In Sanford, everything was in the high school secretary's office. At CCCUA they give us a bag full of overstock stuff. I have A LOT of paper clips now. And correction tape. Does anybody still use that?

Now to the social aspect of back-to-school. You have to determine your LOOK for the first day. I still do this, even though I may not see a SOUL on my first day back, since in-service seems to fall on the SECOND day now. It's still very important though, because it's your first appearance since last May and everyone wants to see how you've changed over the summer. Did somebody cut their hair? Grow it out? Color it? Did they eat too much or do they look anorexic? Did they get too much sun or not enough? (I would fall under the "not enough" category. But as I age, that's not a bad thing.)

Regarding hair, I was usually trying to grow mine back out, because I had a bowl cut for years. Sometimes I couldn't decide-long or short? Long won out for a long time after the metal years. Perms were an option, too, but
that's gone the way of the dinosaur because I'm just not paying that much for one anymore. Then I discovered Clairol.

Before I started my junior year in high school, I colored my hair for the first time. Semi-permanent Loving Care, Medium Ash Brown. Mom said it would make my hair black. And it did. We'll blame Nikki Sixx for that. I still have the Motley Crue picture that prompted that move. It was out of an all-Crue copy of...Tiger Beat or something. It was 1985, so presenting my newly discovered metalhead personality was priority. I wore jeans and a red shirt with funky black designs on it. I don't think I had my purple Converse All-Stars yet. Needless to say, I really didn't shock anybody.

Clothes shopping was (still is) always fun for back-to-school, and you had to stragtegically plan your wardrobe. In 1988, when I started my sophomore year at HSU, on the first day of marching band practice with the brand new
band director, I wore a cut-up Guns N' Roses t-shirt: black, a skull, wrapped with roses and gun barrels poking out of the eye holes on the front. I wanted to walk up to freshman and say "You know where you are? You're in the jungle, baby. You're gonna die!!"

I never actually did that, but I was just happy I wasn't want of them. Regardless of whether I said it or not, they still thought I was kinda scary. "Freaky rocker chick" became my persona for several years.

And...that hasn't changed much, I don't think. Did I mind? Eh...not so much.

MY students don't know that, though. They see hardcore evil professor the first day. I ALWAYS wear black on the Day 1. I did when I taught high school and I still do it now. And as a college instructor, you have to have TWO black outfits: One for Monday/Wednesday class, and another for Tuesday/Thursday class. I was told years ago in my education prep classes, during the "how to dress for success" sessions, that black was a color of power.

Think Darth Vader. Johnny Cash. Boris Badenov. It seems to work.

Sometimes I'll skip my contacts and throw on the glasses for more severity. On occasion, I'll pull the hair up. I don't smile much. (I was once told not to smile until Christmas, but I don't always follow that.) I talk really fast. I want students to walk out of that first class meeting absolutely terrified. It's always interesting to see who comes back the next time. Honestly, I don't think I've ever really scared anybody.

This is more difficult to do with online classes because they don't see me, but the better Blackboard gets, that may all change someday.

The freaky rocker chick persona is now reserved for shows. Students never see this, unless they are brave enough to come see the band, and I do invite them on a regular basis. Then they go, "WTH?"

One of my colleagues, who was listening to students complain about how much work they had to do in both the Fine Arts classes, said, "You have an art teacher who still paints and sculpts, and a music teacher who still performs regularly. You don't know how lucky you are that they're still 'in-action'."

Ha ha HA!!!

I covered school supplies. I've covered clothing and appearance. So...now what?

Oh, the idea that it's all NEW. New school year. Meet new people. Try new things. Experience new situations. That's why I always enjoyed starting a new school year. I'd have new teachers, I'd learn new stuff. I'd meet new
people, (even though that's not my strong suit, meeting new people), but I could make new friends. I grew up in one place, never changed schools. I saw the same people every year from K through 12. So, maybe someone would
come from a really cool place and that might expand my view of the world.

We always learned a new halftime show in marching band. I don't miss marching AT ALL, but it was fun to learn new music and new drills, which really weren't that new because Mena didn't do corps style marching. Mr. Gray rotated 4 to 5 military, 6 to 5 marching band shows throughout the years so no one class ever marched the same show twice. So, in a way, it WAS a new show every year.

Being one of those annoying academic overachievers, I looked forward to new classes, like Journalism, Advanced History, and Music Theory. I'm talking high school here, but even as a little kid in elementary and middle school I was the same. To finally learn to write in cursive in the 3rd grade. (I don't think they teach that anymore either. Have you seen some of this younger generation's handwriting??) To learn science in a REAL lab. (Although I was sick on earthworm dissection day in 7th grade.) I thought it was cool to FINALLY meet those teachers everybody was always warning us about. And they weren't that scary, after all.

I always had personal goals, too. To be more social, more this or less that. In my college years, I was concerned about trying not to get sloppy. Not that I went to class in my pajamas like students do nowadays, but I'd skip the make-up and hair and throw on whatever was available as long as it was clean. I do remember those times when all my casual clothes were dirty and only my dress clothes were clean, so I'd end up having to "dress up" for class. Then everyone would ask, "What are you all dressed up for?" I saw this happen to other people so it was nice to know I wasn't alone.

As a high school teacher, I always looked forward to fixing up my classroom. Putting up new posters and whatnot. Reorganzing my vast amount of junk or moving my desk around. This isn't much different in the higher ed area, though I can't move my desk as easily anymore because it's this huge cockpit monstrosity that only fits in one of two corners in my office and I refuse to sit with my back to the door. I don't have a classroom to decorate, so I spend time trying to fix what didn't work lesson-wise the year before. This is why I adopt a new textbook every 3 or 4 years because for a while there I got stuck in a rut. I taught the same two classes for about 5 semesters and I got sooooo bored I had instructional mono. Talking about the same crap over and over again twice a week.

That's what's so cool about collge teaching. I can choose when my classes are scheduled. I can decide what books and supplies I want to use. And since I am the only one who teaches my subjects, I don't answer to anybody but me. And the Humanities dean, of course. I just created my own custom textbook from an online service and hopefully it will save my students SOME money. After having to buy books for myself again for PhD classes, I thought, "This crap is so overpriced." I'm paying $125 for a book that cost about $5 dollars to manufacture, so screw that. So much other stuff is available online so my job is getting almost too easy.

Shh!!! Don't tell anybody!!

I'm excited about this semester not only because of the new music book, but because of my new Spanish program. Totally online and interactive. I'll never have to grade another oral assignment ever again. (Knock on wood.) Those will grade themselves. This thing has a voice recognition feature that actually says, "I didn't understand you." When you pronounce things correctly, all the words turn green. ¡Qué bueno!

I just hope students will be able to navigate it. I had to be trained for it, so if I can follow arrows and see flashing lights, they should be able to figure it out.

I think I have the music issue straightened out, too, as long, as students have decent computers. Everything will be mp3s online and they don't even have to download them if they don't want to. They can just go online and
listen. Having YouTube through Blackboard has helped. I didn't hear a lot of bitching about it last summer, so I guess that was a success.

So. School is back in session. I have a couple of new ensembles I can throw on. I did get out the hair color again. Auburn this time. Elvira Halloween Black doesn't really suit anymore. (It didn't in the 80s either, but oh well.) I got my school supply goodie bag at in-service. More correction tape. Yippee!!! I'll be using that a lot. ALL of my classes made. The AC is fixed in my office and I don't have to drive to Nashville. I get to zip around on campus in my groovy little car and foreign language software and audio/visual technology has made life really good.

Here's to Fall 2010!

Friday

First, I'll say that when I saw an item on David Etienne's facebook status about tragedy in Western Arkansas this morning, I was not even aware of where it was exactly. Now that I do know, I will say that I am devastated by this news. I've only watched a couple of news videos(I haven't turned on the TV today), and I know I can't watch any more or I'll be a complete mess. More of one than I am already this week. So I'm gonna get this out of the way first.

I went to Albert Pike with my friend Mandy Emerson when we were kids. It was a Sunday afternoon. I asked for some water and her Dad made some weird comment about Russian vodka and he laughed because the look on my face said, "I'm drinking what?" (That's what I remember; it was one of those "you had to be there" kind of things.) I've also canoed the Caddo. I also know that I hate flooding. I had the Mississippi River in my den over in McGehee one spring. I waded through ankle deep water in my house in DeQueen three summers ago. These are reasons why I live in a second floor loft.

I can't imagine being as terrified as those who were just enjoying a weekend of camping. I can only hope that everyone is found. I was glad to see Mike Beebe out there in the middle of things. It reminded me of Gary Johnson of New Mexico, who slept on a cot at the Fire Station in Los Alamos when the town was burning down in 2000. Don and I were in Arkansas, hoping we still had a duplex when we returned. We did. And we found our dog, too. Go Animal Planet!

(And is it just me, or do tragedies seem to happen Thursday nights? Mena tornado, last year?)

I'll probably not watch any more news, because, I will cry, (I don't mean to gross anyone out, really), and I don't know how much more fluid is going to come out of my nose. I had my deviated septum un-deviated Monday morning, and I'm still recovering. I have splints packed inside my nose and I sound like I have the worst cold in the world. I don't hurt, I'm just really uncomfortable. I have to walk around with gauze taped to my face, because my nose is running a marathon, so to speak. It did stop bleeding though, on the left side, on Tuesday. Every so often I have to rinse with salt water, so then I'm drooling. Today I've had to sneeze a lot, and that's made my eyes water because you have to do it through your mouth. I did get "celebrity" treatment at the surgery center, though. That's pretty cool when you get recognized and can hand out business cards in pre-op.

I can get up and move around, but a short trip to the grocery store was about all I could stand yesterday. My "nurse" had to go to work in Warren, but that's okay. I'm functioning. I can take the dogs out. I don't look very glamorous doing it, but the dogs don't care. I worked on my online classes last night and may have done it for too long because I felt kinda queasy this morning. That seems to have gone away. Today I watched my latest Dark Shadows DVD, and just took it easy. My voice is fine-I tried some super quiet Journey on the radio yesterday, so it's still there.

The packing comes out June 23. I'll probably be amazed at how well I can breathe.

And that's my two cents worth for this Friday.

One Night at Home

Since we moved to the loft over two and a half years ago, this is only the fourth time I have spent the night alone here. Which seems kinda weird, I guess. I spent many nights by myself when Don was doing a lot of work on the road; even three months in a row right after we moved to Los Alamos. And I spend a lot of time alone when I'm at the Hut during the school year, so why is this a big deal?

It just is!!

Spending time alone in DeQueen is pretty much a drag, mainly because there's only Wal-Mart for shopping and I don't have all my favorite channels on my superbasic satellite plan. I don't have a safe place to ride my bike. And I'm usually doing homework. I'm still doing that, but now my "free" time is much better.

I've got more than one place to "slum shop." And they're open on Saturdays. I've got Old Navy and TJ Maxx and Big Lots. (Three stores I should probably stay out of.) I can ride my bike on the bike trail. I can go to the gym, and there's a pool there.

But that's in the daytime. What's this night thing all about?

Well...it's like this: I can do whatever I want! :)

What I used to do was order a pizza, sit down with a 2-liter bottle of Coke, a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts and watch all the dumb movies I either had seen a million times or had never seen at all. I'd play Minesweeper and stay up almost all night doing all the other stupid things I like to do to waste time.

Since I'd already had pizza this week, and am trying to cut down on candy-eating, I altered my routine somewhat. (Still drank my Coke, though. Just not the whole bottle.) My day was like this:

I did the bike ride. And will do it tomorrow and the next day, because after Monday I won't be able to exercise for a while. I cleaned up and went to Salvation Army. I was going to buy this really cool CD-player-clock-radio thing I saw earlier this week but it was gone. Bummer. I went to the grocery store for another gallon of milk and a 12-pack of strawberry soda.

CHILDHOOD THROWBACK MOMENT: It's summer. That's when you buy cheap, fruity-flavored soda, like Black Cherry, and ginger ale. And generic brown sugar/cinnamon toaster pastries. Then all is right with the world.

Then I came home, and I don't plan on leaving the house for the rest of the weekend, except to ride the bike and take out the dogs. Did menial housework. Finished watching The Women. (The 1939 version, with Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford and the completely hilarious Rosalind Russell, not the crappy remake with Meg Ryan.) I made soup in the fondue pot. Finished my homework assignment and prepped for the next one. I sat down and fed Mama Kitty, fending off the other cats with a water bottle. She ate a good amount of food and drank some milk. Hopefully, she will start to fatten up and will come out into the open again.

Since all of the video stores are closing all around us, (and TV basically stinks anyway), I browsed Netflix for the new version of "The Women" so I could see just how bad it really is compared to the old one. It wasn't available for "instant watching," so MST3K won out. I watched Super Agent, Super Dragon and now I've got another one on, and I can't even remember the name of it. It's funny stuff regardless-and I laugh every time. I shared my popcorn with Zorak, who ate it even though it was sprinkled with Tony Chacherie's and hot wing seasoning.

HOLY CRAP!! They just said "Garth Vader" on this MST3K movie!! If only I could create a YouTube moment for that!!

Now here I am. Enjoying my boring evening at home. I'll probably read another goofy 1970s cheesy gothic novel before I go to sleep.

Tomorrow's routine won't be much different. I'll do more homework, work on my Internet summer classes, and get things in order before my surgery. And for the next few days, I'll learn to function on Vicodin just like Dr. House.

Wait...is there any chocolate around here?

Oh! I AM MY MOTHER!!

In honor of Mother's Day, I'm posting the article I wrote last year that appeared in HER magazine, May 2009:


Oh, yes! I definitely am! And that’s perfectly okay with me.

People have always considered me a “chip off the ol’ block.” Some women would have flames bursting from their eyes if anyone told them this, but not me. Growing up with “Carol Burnett meets Elizabeth Taylor” (minus the Richard Burton element), was never dull. My mom is funny, beautiful, and doesn’t take a lot of crap from anybody. I for sure got the funny part, because if I can make people laugh, I’ve done my good deed for the day. I’m still working on the beautiful part. That always took some work, because my mother couldn’t get me to wear a dress or makeup without great gnashing of teeth. She’s been accused of dressing up to clean house. I’m accused of having too many dresses and not wearing any of them.

When I got married, I instantly became the mother of four. I helped raised two of them on an everyday basis: girls, age six and nine at the time. I skipped colic, diapers, and potty training and went straight to slumber parties and tubes of lipstick left in the pocket of a pair of pants that got put into the dryer.

After a month went by, I called my mother and said, “I apologize for everything I’ve ever done.” I was in my late twenties, so that covered a lot of ground.

All four of these children are grown now; three have children of their own. This made me a grandmother at 31. (I could insert one of those online, IM-speak acronyms of shock here, but I’ll refrain.) It wasn’t until I started hanging with the grandkids that I really noticed how much I was saying things like, “Scat, Tom!” when someone sneezed. I haven’t started calling everyone “shug” yet, but that might be a future endeavor.

I was standing in line at the local discount shopping mecca and glanced through an article about something rather unmentionable in one of those women’s magazines that likes to broadcast things that most women really don’t want to see broadcast in the checkout line, and thought, “Gee! I knew that in the fifth grade!” Because my mother told me. She knows everything, like the names of obscure actors all the way back to the 1930s. My children now ask me, “Who’s that?” when old black and white films turn up on TCM. Nine times out of ten, I know exactly who they are, thanks to excellent maternal guidance.

My mom and I definitely have different musical tastes, although she did think Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” was kinda catchy. Without her, I wouldn’t have Frankie Laine and Andy Williams on my mp3 player, right alongside Black Sabbath and Nickelback. “The Theme for Rawhide” coming on right after “Iron Man” upsets the passengers in my car somewhat, but you know what? I really don’t care. “Rollin’, rollin’, rollin…”

My mother loves to read, and I remember frequent trips to the library as a child. She introduced me to Stephen King, and we both had extreme fears of Plymouth automobiles for a while. (Remember Christine?) I don’t know if that explains my sister’s avid interest in the film version of Cujo, but oh, well. If I had time, I’d follow Mom’s lead and join a book club, but I don’t think “Building Online Communities: Effective Strategies for the Virtual Classroom” is on Oprah’s reading list.

Mother-daughter relationships are complicated. Every woman knows this. Especially if they survived their teenage years and still have both arms and legs. Several films have captured the dynamic: Terms of Endearment, Postcards from the Edge, Steel Magnolias, and Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. (Hmm…three of those starred Shirley MacLaine. Wonder what that means?) Some women strive to be like their mothers, others…not so much. I really doubt Amy Winehouse’s future children will still be telling her to go to rehab when they become adults. We won’t even mention Joan Crawford or that woman who had the octuplets. Maybe Shirley MacLaine could step in and line up everybody’s chakras.

Regardless of whatever may have happened between birth and the day we looked at a stray digital photo and said, “Oh, wait! That’s a picture of ME! I thought it was my mom!,” one thing is certain: We are all shaped into who we are as woman because of our mothers, no matter what the relationship may be. Some of us have spent every day of our lives with our mothers. Other were adopted, or separated from their mothers due to divorce or death or other circumstances. Be proud of those traits you’ve picked up, either consciously or unconsciously, and remember those special women on their day this month. Without them, you wouldn’t be reading this column, and I wouldn’t be writing it!

THANKS TO ALL THOSE MOTHERS OUT THERE!! YOU ARE LOVED!!

Another School Year Comes to An End

Well…where do I start then?

The year was relatively uneventful.  I didn’t have to drive to Nashville in the fall but I had to this spring.  And that sucked, as usual.  I hate that campus.  I drove all that way and no one ever showed up for Spanish class. There were only three students, but still. I even scheduled a “fun” day for Cinco de mayo and no one came to the restaurant. Huh. So I ate a taco and went home.

That was just this week though.  The previous months were nothing out of the ordinary, as I said before.  I spent my first months at the Hut, which is a cool place to stay during the week.  It’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and I have Internet service.  What more could I need?  I kept plugging away at my PhD classes.  I made my first B in Stats class, but I’m still a genius according to recent grades.  I’m into the research classes which are boring as hell.  My current mentor has a name that sounds like a snack cake. Unfortunately, she won’t be staying at NCU and will leave after my course is over in June.  Too bad-she seemed fair.  I would have liked to have had her on my dissertation committee.

The two new classes I developed have been added to the schedule for next year.  Music Fundamentals in the fall and American Popular Music in the spring.  This gives me more teaching hours, and will solve my Nashville problem and I will never have to go over there again.  Spanish students will just have to come to the language lab in DeQueen (where they should be) or settle for online.  Here’s the other cool thing though: The new program I’m using for Spanish is totally cool and will breathe new life into the classes.  Maybe I’ll be able to schedule more upper level classes.  They’ll have native speakers to talk to any time and the computer will even tell them if they’re completely botching the pronunciation, which happens a lot. My job just got a lot easier, and the students may actually enjoy taking a foreign language.  Of course, if they get slammed too often, I guess they wouldn’t enjoy it.

I “wrote” my own textbook for the music class.  I created a custom book through the publisher and cut about $100 off the price.  I added what I liked and ditched what stunk.  I’ve got a whole new idea for making sound files available.  YouTube has helped a lot, too.  They can watch performances instead of just listening to them.  Hopefully I can engage them more and they won’t have to listen to me drone on and on.

So-my job should be more interesting next fall.  I don’t know if anyone will be able to stand those recorders squeaking and squawking but, oh well. It will be fun to teach people how to play again.

The band was busy.  And will keep being busy.  We’ve learned some new songs. We tossed out “My Sharona” the other night on the fly and it sounded pretty good.  That made up for ME squeaking and squawking the other night with my latest cold.  It has finally cleared up and I should be back in top form Friday.  I hate not being able to sing.  I’m always scared my voice is gone and won’t ever come back.

I’m having surgery done in July and will be down for two weeks.  They’re going to straighten out my deviated septum, so I might be able to breathe for the first time in 40+ years.  That will be interesting.  We plan on working on an original album during that time.  I’ll blog about how tough songwriting is some other time.

Let’s see. What else crosses my brain this evening? While a big yellow cat sits on the back of my couch and stares blankly into space?  Oh, yeah, the battle of the Homeless Commune across the street from the loft. My view:  Go away.  Take your freaky, untrained, moo-ma, touchy-feely wacko shelter some place else.  I’m tired of dirty bums wandering around my neighborhood.  God helps those who help themselves, not those who enable people to continue to waste away the life God gave them.  People with mental health issues and drug problems need real professional help and safe boundaries, not a free rock show and an ice cream cone. Those things are nice, but not a solution.  And NO ORGANIZATION OF ANY KIND SHOULD PUT OTHERS’ LIVES IN DANGER.  Especially those who WORK in their organization.  Have they thought about that at all?  It’s a mess.  They’re misinformed and irresponsible.

I’ll stop there, because I’d rather end on a positive note.

The summer is almost here and I will get to be in my own home for awhile, hanging out with my favorite person in the whole world.  And the shopping will be much better.

"We Are the World"

Either I'm completely hormonal or whatever, but I was almost in tears when 95.1 played "We Are the World" this morning. On this day in 1985, radio stations across the country, all at the same time, shared a moment to play this USA for Africa recording in observance of Good Friday. So...DJ Pat O'Brian played it today.

I remember the week when "We Are the World" was recorded. It was after the broadcast of the American Music Awards in winter 1985. It was a big deal. I still have my 45 record of this...somewhere. I remember the video-it aired all the time. (Now, granted we didn't have MTV in Mena at that time, so I saw it on "Night Tracks" on WTBS.)

I think what choked me up was hearing the line-up of artists, no, legends, who appeared on that record. Legends from all genres: Pop, Rock, R & B, country, appearing in this order:

Lionel Richie, Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers(pre-facelift),
James Ingram, Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Michael Jackson(when he still really looked like the Michael Jackson I knew), Diana Ross, Dionna Warwick, Willie Nelson, Al Jarreau, Bruce Springsteen, Kenny Loggins, Steve Perry, Daryl Hall, Huey Lewis, Cyndi Lauper, Kim Carnes(who I always felt kinda bad for because she only got to sing two words by herself), Bob Dylan, and final soloist Ray Charles. (I think that's what hit me hardest. It's Ray Charles for Chrissakes.)

(Isn't it sad, too, that both he and MJ are gone now?)

Various choir members, of course, included some other Jacksons(even LaToya!), the Pointer Sisters, Sheila E., Smoky Robinson, Jeffrey Osbourne, Bette Midler, a rather big-haired Lindsey Buckingham, Harry Belafonte, and Blues Brother Dan Aykroyd. And there's Quincey Jones in the conductor's seat.

Watch and tell me you don't feel nostalgic!



I used to know EVERYONE who sang solos, but when I listened this morning, I'd forgotten Paul Simon and Billy Joel. Oops. Age sucks.

Now, I know about the big re-make for Haiti Earthquake relief, and the "controversy" that surrounds it. What was it Jay-Z said, that "We Are the World" is "untouchable?" I'm inclined to agree. I hadn't heard the re-make until I YouTubed it today. It's okay, I guess, and I actually did recognize most of the artists, which really surprised me. At least they did call on the talents of Josh Groban, Jennifer Hudson, and other more recent singers I admire like Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, and Pink. It was also nice to see veteran divas Barbra Striesand and Celine Dion. (Celine got Cyndi Lauper's part. And in the video she looks confused about how to pull it off. Weird.) Tony Bennett was there, too. I spotted Gladys Knight, but am disappointed she didn't get a solo. Or maybe she did and I just missed it. And was that Richie Havens?? Singing in French??

I noticed the Beach Boys were in attendance, WITH Brian Wilson. Jeff Bridges. Carlos Santana. My dear Wilson sisters, Ann and Nancy, way in the back. Jamie Foxx, who I guess could be considered Ray's stand-in. They kept MJ's performance in there, with Janet "superimposed" in the video? I found that a little strange.

I enjoyed seeing Will I. Am, but I can do without Fergie. Ever since I saw that "Barracuda" debaucle years ago... And did I see Snoop? And why, why, why, would you even ask Kanye West to appear? I'm surprised he didn't jump in and complain that he was the only person allowed to redo the entire song himself. And I've liked Wyclef Jean ever since I saw him on a Johnny Cash tribute show years ago. He just seems cool.

There were a few "rockers" there, if that's what you can call them nowadays. Adam Levine from Maroon 5 and...uh...I didn't know that bald guy. Or the kid who sang the first line? I'm pretty sure he's not a Jonas Brother. And I have no idea who some of the rappers are.

(I'm OLD, okay?? I'm white, too, so I have no frame of reference here, unless I'd seen Grand Master Flash or Run DMC there. They weren't, were they?)

Anyway, here's the 2010 version:



I still prefer the original version. I'm with ya, Jay Z. And the message is still the same, and I do hope that aid for both hunger in Africa and re-building in Haiti goes exactly where it's supposed to go. And it's nice to know that artists are still willing to set their egos aside and do something good for others.

Or at least, I hope that's their intention.

So, when's the next "Hands Across America" going to happen?? :)

It Follows Us Everywhere...13 Years Later

Okay. Everyone pretty much knows I'm married to a former member of the Coral Reefers, right?

So I'm sitting here on a really dreary afternoon listening to the “Holiday Music” channel because there’s absolutely nothing worth watching on TV this time of day, and “Jingle Bells” comes on. Not just any “Jingle Bells,” but the version by the guy who just seems to “be” everywhere.

Jimmy Buffett.

Thirteen years earlier….

Don and I have been dating for about 8 months or so, and it didn’t matter where we what, or what radio station we turned on in the car…Buffett was always playing. “A Pirate Looks at 40.” “Come Monday.” We’re in a Burger King at 1 in the morning in Sedalia, Missouri, and “Son of a Son of a Sailor” comes on the PA. We’re walking past a bar on Bourbon Street on our first trip to New Orleans together and there’s a guy doing a single act, singing “Why Don’t We Get Drunk.” We’ve heard countless butchering of “Margaritaville.”

(Who hasn’t?)

What kind of omen is that?? Even during the holidays, he’s THERE.

Quick!!! Where’s my Andy Williams album???

(By the way, if you’re wondering why we were in a Burger King at 1 in the morning in Sedalia, Missouri, we were on our way to Indiana to pick up Number One Son Danny. It was 1997, around Spring Break time, I think.)