So, You're From Corbin, KY?

This week, while working, I met a man that was an African-American, 43 years of age. He and I became instant friends and he was not taken back by me, until he asked me where I was from. I hesitantly replied, "I'm from Corbin, KY." I am not ashamed of where I am from, but did not want to give off the wrong vibe by saying that particular sentence. This man was originally from Louisville, KY but had lived in many places in our nation...from Chicago to Cali, but he knew all about Corbin and the stereotypes that have been placed there over the years and all that they implied. He, a highly educated man, had read books about it...about my hometown.

I instantly began to think of my freshman year of college. I was sitting in my afternoon Sociology101 course, and the professor played a video, a video of Corbin, KY. As I watched, I saw people that I had knew and even some I had went to school with my entire young life. I was mortified by what they said. If you went to Corbin, you know/knew them, too....it was unbelievable the words they spoke. After the video, my professor asked the class if there was anyone present that was from Corbin, KY....I did not raise my hand, I did not acknowledge the comment as I was saddened by what had just unfolded in front of myself and my peers, and regretfully horribly embarrassed as to what my hometown represented that day in the fall of 1992.

Racism comes in many forms. I faced a battle of my own in the weeks that were ahead. The African-American young women on my dorm floor had preconceived ideas about me, when they realized that I was from Corbin, KY, left horrible messages for me on the dry erase board my roommate and I had placed on our door. When I returned to campus after going home for the weekend, I returned to horrendous racial remarks all over the door. It was then that I knew why they thought the things they did...but was not sure why they assumed that I fit that stereotype. I didn't. I never had went to school with any person of color, but it was because I never was given the chance.

This week, while standing in line at my two young children's school, I knew that they saw beyond color. I was so proud to witness their interaction with children of EVERY race. They just saw "friends." Simply, friends.

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is taught...change your lesson plan friends if the ink in your pen inscribes hate or intolerance.

Tell 'Em Anything You Want To

If you have reviewed any of my blogs, you realize my views on various facets of adult life and learning. Never, until recently, have I ever been scared or afraid of what may lie ahead in my own life. I never had to worry much about stability and my future, until now. Life's uncertainties can be quite complex and perplexing.

I think as a 30 something (back side of 30 actually) we may look at things differently than we used to. Meaning, we have changed over a period of time...what once completely fulfilled us, now seems incomplete. An analogy of this, looking at a glass that once you believed was half full... is now is half empty.

Truth. That's what it is. Looking at something dead on, face to face and deciding if that's where you want to be. Or, looking at something head on and making a decision that that is no longer where you want to be...not for one more minute. Promises broken. Faith no more. Hope is something that you can no longer cling to, for it no longer exists like you once knew it to be.

Here's the kicker, you knew it long ago...years ago perhaps, that this was not right and ignored your own intuition for the thought of the greater good. Hoping on a whim that maybe, just maybe, things would take a turn for the better. But the day never arrived and you know whole heartily, it will not .You finally, after this passage of time, acknowledge it and have moved on and feeling all the better for it. You finally realize that your loyalty and steadfast love is not quite enough to make it "right." That's all you have ever wanted was right...but there is no degree of  normalcy, stability or promise. It is stagnant and it has been that way for longer than you wish to admit. What once you believed in with every fiber or yourself, you now know is unbelievable. That's the truth....this one is for my very best friend and for me as well. We don't tell 'em all the truth, but we know exactly where the truth in the purest form lies.

They Don't Make 'Em Like That Anymore

I don't know about you, but I think moving, packing, storing and then unpacking in at a new residence may just be one of the worst things known to man. For the past days, my home has been filled with boxes and bags of every shape and size in every damn place. Especially, when one is doing it solo. I do not recommend it. My spouse has taken one bed apart for the move...that's IT. I have done the rest. Well, the exception being the first man in my life w/ the last name O'Connell. Some of you may know him...and the others of you that don't, your loss.

This man has a plan for every move. A strategic one...leaving nothing to chance. Each item going in just the right space and making the most of every inch. Meticulous and skilled precision down to each minuscule detail. The phrase "on top of your game"...he could have invented it.

But this is about much more than just the occurrences of the recent days/weeks. He has been my savior all my life. The only man that has ever taken complete care of me...and I have been a handful my whole life. I adore this individual. The only male I have ever completely trusted with everything. My safe haven. My safe place to fall and I have stumbled countless times. No matter, he reaches out his hand to assist me and helps in dusting myself off so I can get right back up again without skipping a beat. There's much to be said for any individual that exudes those attributes. He's not perfect...but he's my perfection and forever in his debt I will remain.

As we were working today, Pandora was playing in the background and this song came on. I overheard him singing it. I didn't even know he liked Billy Joel. But I hope that he knows that I love him more than anything in the wide world. Thank you, daddy...for everything.

You Only Think You Know Their Story

In today's society, we are ever so quick to pass judgement and  I'm as guilty as the next guy (or gal). We want people to think we have it all together, but we do not. We are always second guessing and hoping that our decisions from day-to-day are the correct ones. I know I do. You're kidding yourself and everyone else around you if you do not do the same. We wonder or are at least semi-curious as to how others see us. Judging ourselves, but are partial to ourselves and our own.

We judge in an instant on appearance. I'm not speaking of physical beauty, but we do then as well even when we don't realize we're doing it. We form an opinion in a millisecond by the way a person dresses, what car they drive, how their children behave, political preference, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, their home, etc. We judge even before we know much at all. Here say, we judge it. 

Here's the thing, how bout knowing their struggles? Their fears? Their heartbreaks? Their....prayers on bended knee? Bet we would reconsider what we first perceived in the first place, of course, in some instances we would hold the same opinion...regardless. Here's the second thing, we only care unless it is brought to our attention or we cared for the welfare of a particular individual in the first place. Then, and only then, do we go to bat for the ones we love. Seeing then too, only what we wish to see about our friends, family, etc. You know its true and I do too. Right or wrong. 

A negative judgement gives you and I more satisfaction than praise, provided it smacks of jealousy. It can be toxic. No, we do not know their story...not even on our best day. Nor do they know ours...not even close.

 Don't wait for the last  judgement, it takes place everyday. ~Albert Camus

Like a Miracle, Some Golden Words Roll Off Their Tongue

There's nothing on the planet like having that handful of people that you are lucky enough to have or the privilege to call them friends. I think it would be awesome, theoretically speaking, if friends were like real-estate listings. I mean this is more truthful way. So, when buying into someone, we know what we're getting. It would be just what we wanted. The perfect fit. Oh, and there would be perks. Those little things that we just loved about the property. The attributes about the home that were too good to pass up. We were sold the moment we walked in the foyer and never had to be coaxed or negotiated. Everything we had been searching for...under one roof. An investors dream.

Too many times, theoretically speaking again, we buy into those properties that look impeccable on the outside and jump in without seeing the interior for what it really is. Squeaky floors, cracked moldings, bad grout work in an expensive tile floor, leaky faucets and too many other dislikes and updates that were countless. Those things that were so undesirable in a home that we couldn't begin to tally with any degree of accuracy. Some of the improvements that are desperately needed you may not even see at first glance, but they are there...costing you big time. An investors nightmare.

Now, not theoretically speaking, it seems relatively simple but I am just not sure how or why so many of us get it all wrong. Perhaps we expect what they cannot give us. Perhaps we don't accept them for everything they were, what they are at present and who we hope for them to someday be. Perhaps we think too much and maybe that's problem. We can't just let them be. Let friendship...just be. It doesn't need all those improvements you once thought were shortcomings. Nor is it ever as perfect as you planned. It just is.

Then, when you least expect it, you turn on your computer, open an email and there it is. A message in an inbox from a friend, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I have had you on my mind and I love you." Two sentences that changed an entire day. That's it. That's all. That's just enough.

Missiles With Wings

There are three stages of the truth. One, it is denied or even ridiculed. Two, it is opposed. Third, it is self-evident. If you are/were old enough to know, then there is no doubt, you know exactly the mark of this day. The mark is imprinted in your mind. And, as long as you are of sound mind and body, you will continue to remember this date. What you were doing in that instant. What your thoughts and fears were in that moment. Where you were. Who you were with. Whether you listening to it via radio or watched it unfold on television. It was the stoppage of time, irregardless of the sand passage through the hourglass.

It wasn't until my second child returned home from school today that I decided to blog about the day of September 11th 2001. He asked me if I would allow him to watch on YouTube the videos of the planes hitting the towers. This is the first year that he actually heard the testimonies of the victims families on video and audio, saw pictures of the people that would never come home and shockingly watched the footage of those people who voluntarily jumped out of those buildings holding hands to their deaths. He had learned about it in school on previous anniversaries and knew about that day, but not to this degree. It is sad and unfortunate...this child has never known a country that was not at war.

He wasn't even 2 months old at the time, on that day. My mother was staying with me at the time. She came into the bedroom where myself and Benny Kyle (my now 11 year old) were napping that morning. She was crying and said, "Kelly, I think something is very wrong, a commercial airplane just hit one of the Twin Towers in NYC." I immediately walked into the television room, and it wasn't long after I sat down that the next Boeing hit the second tower. I remember how scary it was and wondering if I should go to the elementary school and get my oldest child. I had never seen in my life those happenings and was not sure what was going to happen next.

So, I wanted to share some of the things with you that my young son shared with me upon returning from school today. He told me about the wing-span of those airplanes, explained that when they hit the buildings and the ground in Pennsylvania, they were similar to missiles but with wings. He told me about the calls that were made from the plane. He showed me some of the faces that lost their lives on that day, some I remembered...some I did not recall. He spoke of all those babies, yet to be born, that never had a chance to meet their daddies. But after telling me about the terrorists, he closed with something much greater than the attackers hate for us. He said, "Mama, there's going to be a new tower called, The Freedom Tower, did you know that?" I pretended not to so he could tell me all about it.

How fitting, freedom. Freedom from the ashes where a new building emerges and takes shape. A symbol of something that so many of us in this country takes for granted. I was reminded of all the courageous and selfless acts that took place on that day and the days that followed. A lecture that served as a reminder, from my living room classroom, from not a professor...but from an 11 year old boy.

It Would've Been Her 49th Birthday

I have been waiting to blog about her since her untimely death. As of three days ago, I knew it was time when I read via internet that a book about her life was to soon be on bookshelves. The original press release was on August 9th, her birthday.

She, the only artist to have seven consecutive number one top singles. She, the first African-American to grace the cover of Seventeen magazine at 17 years of age. Robert DeNiro was rumored to have said, "She is the sexiest woman I have ever seen. She is gorgeous. I want her by my side." But instead of choosing Robert, she chose a man named Bobby. Her favorite actress, Jessica Lange. Her favorite cereal, Fruity Pebbles. She turned down the role of Sondra Huxtable on the hit tv sitcom, The Cosby Show. She, the most awarded female artist of all time, says the Guinness Book of World Records, having at least one Grammy, Emmy, MTV Video Music Award and Billboard Music Award. Her television interview with Diane Sawyer is still the highest rated television interview in history (for reasons not associated at all with her talent, unfortunately). She was born into music royalty, her mother, Cissy, sang back-up for Elvis, Aretha, and Luther Vandross. Cissy was also a renowned gospel singer. Her cousin is the famous songstress, Dionne Warwick.

Her face was plastered all over my preteen bedroom. Her cassette tapes were played continuously in my boombox. Yes, cassette tapes. She was the first concert I saw, that I anticipated and that I still vividly remember to this day. Kenny G opened up for her, I have never liked the sax since...at least not like that. She was in her prime and I was in 8th grade. As an adult, I still have her music within my home, but she is played on a small disc player and not that huge boombox. My parents purchased all that was Whitney for me per my request as a youth, I continued purchasing all that was Whitney as an adult. Even as I watched her stumble from a the pedestal so many had placed her upon, I silently cheered for her and hoped that she would get well.

She was and still is one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard.
She was and still is one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen.

The Narcissistic Continuum

Recently, I completed a piece regarding narcissism and facebook for a website focus. The results, after researching, I believed to be quite accurate. I couldn't help to think to myself that I may have a touch of that characteristic and more than a few names came to mind from my own friends list. After reading this, you will have a few on your list that fit this profile.
 
1.) You tend to respond more aggressively to comments (compared to others).
2.) You change your profile picture WAY more than others.
3.) You update your status (or post) not once, not twice but numerous times (12-14 hr block of time).

Now, with that being said, there is a tool to measure narcissism and how your tendencies affect the way others view you on facebook or any popular cyberspace public forum (and more importantly, if you are a narcissist, how you view yourself). Just as colors are proven to affect the way that we feel. Interesting, I thought.

This tool is known as the Narcissistic Personal Inventory Questionnaire. Here's a few of the questions to ask yourself (you can google the questionnaire online for more of an in-depth look at yourself)
* Do you accept a "friend" when you don't know who they are?
* Do you change your profile information continuously?
* Do you snapshot pics of yourself (many, many) pics of yourself...often?
* Do you feel the need to draw attention to yourself or be the center of attention?

It should be no surprise to you, that the number of your facebook friends is absolutely irrelevant to the friends you have in the physical world. Zero correlation. As a matter of fact, in the world of cyber-friends, less is actually more. It speaks volumes about what you hold dear...what you value most. Think about it like this, do you trust enough of those people to be a part of your daily life? Absolutely not. Statistically, the magic number, according to the numerous studies collected and conducted...averages at 120. Not five times 120. These studies also indicate that those of us who are above the magic number of 120...are on an ego trip. Those of you who have 120 or less are the ones that are completely in-tune with themselves and the relationships that they value. They don't need someone to "like" their status, their photos...they don't even care if we "like" them or not. Ironically, I like those type of people. I don't know many of them...but I wish I did. Those people are completely comfortable in their own skin and that's a "friend" that I would accept a "request" from any day of the week. Just something to think about...

 I do not know if Johnny Cash was a narcissist, but the song that he re-recorded by band, NIN, is a song about narcissism. I happen to love both versions (Johnny's preferred, though). There are countless others, when I searched popular music that makes/made a reference to narcissism. Google it, the lists will surprise you, too. Vanity and over inflated egos are so predominant, that they have to write songs and articles about it.

And Then There Were Two

This is not my regular blog. This is not my regular Saturday. Why? Because now there are two, minus my one...my first one. I'm not dying, but my stomach has never felt so sick. A sickness that is both excited for him, but terrified for him at the same time. A sickness that may be selfish, but it is just the same. Wanting to hear a few more times...

"Mom, I'm going to go over to..."

"Mom, can I have..."

"Mom, is it okay if I..." 

"Mom, what time do I need to be home..."

"Mom, I need some money for..."

"Mom, do you like this..." 

"Mom, does this look okay..."

"Mom, who sings this song..."

Yesterday, I did not talk much on our commute home, did not care what was playing on the radio and when asked if I wanted to stop and get something to eat...I did not care much about that either. I'm not being dramatic, drama isn't my thing. Heartsick that's not my cup of tea either, but I am. I miss him...terribly. I know I'll get used to it, but I don't want to get used to not washing his clothes, seeing him daily with his friends, making him something to eat, watching TV with just him, listening to music, helping him with the things that he needs ME for. Better yet, him helping me for the things I need just HIM for. Only he will do. 

I never really gave it much thought, until the reality set in.When I returned home and walked  into his empty room, knowing that he would return to a dorm that night...not his home. I sat on the couch...alone, and cried. Not a cry that was eyes just welling up with tears...it was a cry that you hear from a little girl when her heart is broken, when she can't catch her breath. 

He's my first words. My first grin. My first steps. My first slept through the night. My first tooth. My first day of school. My first date. My first kiss. My first car. My first prom. My first high school commencement. My first everything in between. Basically, my first love...that's what he is. 

Again, I know it will get better (for me) and the absence of me in his daily life doesn't seem to phase him...just as it did not phase me when I left my parents. I have wanted to text or call him to make sure he is okay. But I have refrained. I know he's okay, it's his mama that is not doing well. He will come home a couple times a month and maybe he'll ask me to wash his clothes, fix him something to eat or perhaps he will have a new request...and I'll try do what he asks of me. That's what the mama of a college Freshman does. That's what a mama does no matter what the age of her child. 

So when he (if he) reads this blog, I hope he gets a laugh when he sees what song I placed in this piece. He and I both like it and this was one of those songs that he asked..."Mom, who sings this song?"

Everything Old is New Again? Believe So.

This week marks a first for myself and my family. My eldest son will begin a new adventure (in learning, let's hope) at my Alma Mater, Eastern Kentucky University. Needless to say, I am proud of this 18 year old and hope that his future promises are all that he wishes them to be. I have never been a "tight reigned" parent, why you may ask? The reigns never even needed to be adjusted. This young man has been straight laced and mature beyond his years...even as a child. Those of you who knew him at a young age, know that this is true statement. He's shown more maturity in his young life than I have many times (even now as a mid-life)...swear it's true. I cannot take all the credit for this "old soul"...but I hope I have taught him some things that he can take with him on his new journey. I have no doubt that the head he has on his shoulders will make the right decisions (for the most part)...but if not, mama and daddy will be there to give him a safe place to fall. That's just what parents do. It's in the unwritten hanbook, in case you weren't aware.

This week, it was so funny to me as I was listening to the ipod while doing my lawn manicure. I was listening to my middle son's Benny Kyle's ipod, age 11 (Alex's ipod was stolen). Anyway, my middle son must have a bit of myself in him. Smart mouth, headstrong, stays on the phone, overly hygenine conscious, always on the go...or wanting to be and thinking he knows more than anybody (especially momma). He had put some songs he called "Cali-Swag" on the device. Oh my Lord...I never heard so much gansta rap, and all that those artists imply. He had been told countless times to erase the explicit songs with those offensive lyrics. Did he, nah. Have they been deleted as of today? I highly doubt it. See what I mean...he takes a bit after me. Defiant. Defiant. Defiant.

I continued mowing, skipping all those rap songs, I did not understand what they were saying (and I did not want to)... bitches, hos, and lots of bad bad curse words that my 11-year old apparently thinks is appropriate for him to listen to. That ipod now belongs to a 38 year old...not that 11 year old. To my surprise there were some that Alex had put on there who knows when. But they were some of the songs I had listened to when I first left home for college and all that that implied. N2Deep, Parliment, TLC, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Nirvana, etc.
Then, as I was finishing up mowing my dead grass and trimming weeds...this song came on. Oh snap. I wonder if they still play this one in downtown Richmond? I hope they still do, even if it is 20 years later...but who's counting? If you were there (or on any college campus) all those years ago, perhaps you remember it too. Brings back lots of memories for me...I hope he makes memories he'll never forget during what will be some of the best days of his young life.



What the Funk?

There are many things that I look forward to each year at this time. First, school goes back in session, score! Second, this year my eldest leaves in less than two weeks to move in at EKU. I'm thrilled but saddened at the same time...so the jury is still out about my exact feelings. Third, it is almost time for the Kentucky State Fair...score times two! So coincidentally, the very same day my eldest moves in at Eastern, there is something to make me oh so cheerful on my commute home...perhaps it will lighten my load, even make me sweat around 7:00pm that evening at Cardinal Stadium. Yes, Keith Sweat's concert will be my second stop on the day's docket. Damn right.

For the past several years I have seen various artists that were considered my "old school", Boys II Men, MC Hammer and Atlantic Starr (Louisville's own, by the way). I have seen other genres, but none performed my old school then went even beyond that with older school classics. Boys II Men they performed a collection of hits from the Motown era. Jackie Wilson's Lonely Teardrops, Marvin Gaye's Aint' No Mountain High Enough and Al Greene's Let's Stay Together and several songs by Detroit's own, The Temptations. I loved that. Atlantic Starr, they got their funk on too, with some greats by Earth Wind and Fire, including my personal fav, Let's Groove (you know it, just move yourself and glide like a 747) and Stephanie Mills', I Never Knew Love Like This Before. MC even kicked it old school funk with two great songs by George Benson, Turn Your Love Around and Gimme the Night.

So, needless to say I expect Keith (in addition to making us sweat) may give the audience some funk (some peeps call it R&B). I got one in mind that would fit him perfectly. Maybe they have a suggestion box? Request box for people like myself? Doubt it. Maybe if I scream it loud enough...he could break right into this one...ya think?

She Still Looks Good...For Her Age

Over the weekend, a commentator made a remark heard around the world from the London Olympic Games, perhaps you heard the soundBITE (hence the spelling and CAPS). If not, it was stated something about the competitor and being sexy. How bout that? You think a point could been given for such a talent at such a prestigious and well-respected sporting event? Being sexy? Hum. Or even worse, a deduction for the lack thereof? Preposterous. Here's the kicker, what if I would have heard that same remark watching an event such as the Olympic Games let's say, 15 years ago? Would I have even noticed...much less cared? Sadly, I doubt it.

It made me think of a part in the movie, Waiting to Exhale, you may remember it. The movie centered around four middle aged women and the man troubles they were having..and among other things mid-life females deal with. In one scene, a character, Whitney Houston, portrayed a woman named Savannah in the film. Anyway, she and the three girlfriends are sitting together, talking, drinking, laughing...and Savannah says,  "I'm 36 years old, and I STILL look good"...in an tipsy state, but it's very funny. She wants to convince herself and her peers...she's still, in fact, looks just as good as possibly the younger version of what she once was. I use that line...all the time, doing the same thing that Houston did in that scene. Convincing myself and those around me that my age doesn't effect my looks and it doesn't bother me...well, not that  much. It's humorous. I also, using that line, but omitting the age, tell my mid-age girlfriends and guy friends that as well...usually when they reach yet another birthday. BUT, I don't say it to the ones I don't think STILL look good...mean, I know. I'm like that. But, I still try to make 'em feel better (with something similar to that)...like a twisted term of endearment. They don't need my approval for their outward appearance, no harm no fowl and no one is the wiser. If they flat out ask me about themselves... if they need to lose weight or perhaps make other changes, I tell them that to. They asked, if they didn't want the truth...then they should not have asked me.

Final and last point of reference....how bout this line, "She still looks good for her age." What in the hell kinda line is that? To me, that's like saying an older car still runs like it did the day they drove it off the lot. Drives like a dream, interior still in pretty good shape, body of the exterior and the paint job still looking newly washed and waxed and engine starts right up every single time. Don't say it to me...I take offense to it, and you should too. Just say, she/he STILL looks good. Period. Appreciate that, leaving age aside.

There are tons and I mean tons of songs/videos portraying what is sexy. I'm not listing them here. You know what they are. I've never been in one of the videos, as a matter of fact, never seen any of you on the screen either. BUT, we STILL look good. :)

This is one of my all time favorite songs, the first time I heard it...I was in the car with my daddy years ago. It's one of his favorites to this day and mine as well. It's an on-going joke between us. We automatically (on cue) go into a verse when looks are put on the table. Not that he or I are vain...nope, not at all. Why  would you think that is what I was implying?

Now, go buy some face cream, diet foods and hit the gym on your way home today!

I said, No, No, No!

This week marks the one year anniversary of the sudden death of Amy Winehouse. She was a brilliant breath of fresh air in music with a noticeable jazz influence, which I loved. She was something new and interesting in a world of  full of copycats...again, which I loved. Immensely talented all on her own and performed with music greats such as Tony Bennett. But solo, she had a voice and immeasurable with immense talent which easily allowed her to stand all on her own. I had her Rehab ringtone on my cell for months....then after she passed, I made it my ringtone again. She had been troubled by both alcohol and drug usage. She died at 27 years of age from acute alcohol poisoning.

When someone famous dies it sends reverberations throughout our culture. Perhaps because it makes us reflect on our own mortality. I began thinking of other artists who have tried to fight the battle of addiction, some entering rehabs numerous times...others never seeking help. Some dying before they ever reached their 30th birthday.

Jimi Hendrix
Janis Joplin
Jim Morrison
Bradley Novell (Sublime)
Hillel Slovak (RHCP)
Shaonnon Hoon (Blind Melon)
Hank Williams
Bon Scott (AC/DC)
Mike Starr (Alice and Chains)
Keith Whitley
Whitney Houston
Michael Jackson
Sid Vicious (Sex Pistols)

You get the jist, the entire page of this blog would be full if I listed each death... using columns of three...possible four or five. Seriously though, tragic overdoses cut the  lives short of some great musical icons today and yesterday. Artists who inspire, continue to inspire and since I am a gambling woman...I'd put money on it that they will inspire future generations. Embracing greatness, individual artists who may have not been understood on a personal level in life or after death...but we understand each of them when we hear their music. Irregardless of the genre they represented...understanding is ever-present.

Thus, reminding us that they would never walk back into a recording studio, write a lyric, walk onto a stage in front of their fans or record another track (except maybe for Tupac)...he apparently had much more to say to all of us, so he had lots more recordings in stock and in store for us. Yes, I know he was shot...it was a minimal joke of tastelessness (my friends who read this will see the humor...they have twisted humor too, not a crime) but hope no offense is taken. I happened to like Tupac...hell, Biggie, too!

RIP to those who said good-bye too soon.

A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

For most of us we reach or look to a song or an anthem that fits just us, reach for something that may comfort us in our darkest of hours. It may be the lyrics, the composition or what not...that seeks to give us something to be inspired by. Looking onward, upward...forward and forgetting the present day and hurtful parts of ones past however painful, but tying to move on as time goes on, and hope for healing of our heartbreak. Ironically, many of us don't seek comfort when we are personally flourishing. Rarely, if at all many, (not all) but many of us don't reach out and say thank you Lord, for each blessing....great and small, those times are few and go unnoticed or unseen in our finest of hours. I'm guilty of that.

I have never considered myself to be religious, but consider myself a spirited believer of something...someone greater than myself, Jesus Christ our Lord. That's my belief. But seemingly, I have been angry with God for quite sometime...lost my faith, damaged my spirit, perhaps blaming God, because things had not been going just like I wanted them to. Selfish. Lost. Indecisive. Uncertainty within myself, of global proportions....in times that were anything BUT certain when looking at my life and my future.

Now, I'm not inferring that I've seen the light, what I am saying is that I am reaching with greater strength from the depths of a certain darkness. God...not to blame for my shortfalls. Family, not to blame. My marriage and the reassessment therein, not at fault. Economic downfall of our nation...not to blame. The blame lies with one, me...and only me. My faith may have faltered...but God never did. He was patiently waiting...blessed for that. Thankful.

I have never believed that FB is a platform for religious beliefs being pushed on others within this public forum. Same for political views...I'm left, maybe you're right. It doesn't matter how you stack it here on FB or otherwise... if you want me to change my viewpoints and my political beliefs, I will not. Nor do I feel its fair for me to push my religious/political beliefs, etc. onto any of you. I will not.

So, why did I instantly awaken at 2:30am this morning thinking about God and the church? Perhaps it is because within the coming hours my family of 4 and I will be preparing to attend the church of our choice. For whatever the reason, I am sitting in the office of my home and blogging at 4:30am. Maybe this blog is my letter to those who are still searching for the faith they need in their own lives...not getting their "happy back"...but wishing, hoping, praying to get their "spirit back". Even more so, maybe its my letter to God himself...letting him know that I realize his hand has been placed upon me this entire time, unbeknownst to me. Thanking him for his guidance... all the times I had not sought it.

This song came to mind, and I wanted to share it with each of you...religious or not. It's beautiful perfection, and many artists have performed it flawlessly. I hope you each have a song that is your beautiful perfection of faith and hope.

While in sorrow - Psalm 14                                                   
When you have sinned - Psalm 51                                             
When you are bitter or critical - Corinthians 13                        
When lonley or fearful - Psalm 23 

Could You Spare Some Change?

One of my favorite series, that I have been watching on Netflix, is called Nip/Tuck, perhaps some of you have seen it. At first assumption, the viewer believes the drama to be about the imperfections of the outer body and how plastic surgery can make one feel better, look better, etc and that that will make the difference that they have been longing for in their lives. Somehow, perfection on the outside will make whats inside better as a result of going under the knife. It doesn't. It's just a temporary band-aid for the change that they were initially searching for. If you followed the drama, you see inside the lives of the surgeons/friends/family and the changes that they go through in their own lives, the pain they endure, heartache, happiness, sorrows...it creates a perfect symmetry, ironically. Symmetry that is not in a breast augmentation, nose job, face lift, bot-ox injections or countless liposuction procedures. Symmetric in the sense that many of us strive for that perfect life, equilibrium that we dare anyone to fluctuate, good looks, great job, our life...everything we want and it has to be perfect. That's why it's a called a drama...irony again, perhaps. Real life plays out as a drama...but we have no script.It's unscripted with no do-overs...no "out-takes" or editing that shows all of us in our best light. No best light in real life...kind of a bitch, but that's what we get. For most, we make the best of what we are dealt..and play the hand to win. Imperfections is okay...as long as there are perfect moments along the way.

I have been going through many life changes, some good...some not-so-good, and I have not always dealt with change in the most dignified fashion. So what...neither have many of you. But I have come to realize that change is what we make of it. You want to lose weight? Exercise and eat right. You want to quit smoking? There are programs, meds, therapies that will help assist you in doing just that. You think you drink to much (not referring to coffee or sodas), then make those changes accordingly...cut back, quit or keep going at the rate you are currently...change is your choice.

My point being, change is you and you are the power of that change. Can you ever look 22 again if you're currently 42 years old? Doubt it. All the plastic surgery in the world can't make that a realistic happening. BUT you can change what you acknowledge, and that has nothing to do with outward appearances. For the longest time, as long as I can recall, I have refused to change things within my own life...but I couldn't change anything, because I never acknowledged it. Now, I welcome change...and whatever it implies.
Change can be very life enriching and even liberating.

There are some great songs that refer to change and the meaning for the artists who wrote/sang the lyrics.  When it comes to change in ones own life, songs can be a great remedy for the listener... anthems, if you will.

* Changes - Olivia-Newton John (family and divorce)
* Man in the Mirror - Michael Jackson (in order to change anything else, change yourself first)
* A Change Will Do You Good - Sheryl Crow (change is JUST what you need)
* Leaving on a Jet Plane - John Denver (someone facing change, new commitments)
* Changes - David Bowie (lyrics are in reference to the artists own persona and individual change)

There's an old saying that states: nothing endures, but change.
You can't carry it with you...so change if you must. 

It Was 1990 Somethin'

For the last couple of weeks, I had been contemplating what my next blog would be. I kept coming back to the Class of 1992 and the upcoming 20 year reunion. For reasons I wish not to disclose, I will not be in attendance...God willing, maybe for the 25th reunion of the class, I will be present.

In regard to the passing of 20 years and where we all are now, where we wish we were, where we hope to be (at some point) in our own individual lives...those "real life" thoughts almost seem to be non-existent when one begins becoming reminiscent of the past and what we left there. What was it we left during those years? Hopefully, a mark. A mark only we know...one that only we recognize. Stories, lots of great stories. Memories, that only we share. It really goes without saying, those may not have been the "best" years of our lives...but there were some of the best times that in many instances may have been mistakes...but those mistakes made for a helluva story years later. I think the whole what happens here stays here must be an underlying understanding between most of us. Or maybe, don't ask, don't tell (but in a different context), you get what I'm expressing.

Think about how many "firsts" we shared. We got braces on our teeth, we didn't really like our parents much, detention, we fell in love for the first time, we all began driving around the same time, prom, skipping school, it's when we drank our first beer, it's where we made friendships that lasted up until the present day...if we are that lucky. The music we listened to may have not always been current, but we all had our favs...songs I hear (to this day) that take me to that place...that time.

But here is a long list of songs from a year that was our last together...all of us.
http://www.musicoutfitters.com/topsongs/1992.htm

I wish to dedicate this blog to the Corbin High School, Class of 1992. In addition, it is my hope that each of you, who are attending this year's reunion, remember only the best about the classmates we unfortunately were forced to say good-bye to...too soon. Once a "Redhound"....always a "Redhound", and I am so fortunate to have made so many wonderful friendships countless memories that we made in that building we couldn't wait to leave on 1901 Snyder Street.

I thought about adding our class song, but it was too sad. I thought it appropriate to close with this one. 

I Still Call Him "Daddy"

As a child, most sons and daughters refer to their parents as mommy and daddy. Some change, some stay with that terminology. I still call him, my father, "Daddy"...that's what he's always been. Well, that and sometimes (jokingly) I would call him by his first name. And, back in high school my friends and I called him "Big Ron"...as a matter of fact, those same girlfriends, after all these years refer to him as just that. It just stuck. I think he liked it...a smile, smirk or laugh from him usually indicated that. Not only did I have him "wrapped"...but those young silly teenage girls did as well, just in a different type of way.

There are so many songs in various genres of music that represent the relationship between fathers and daughters and/or fathers and sons and the bond that they share. I've never had a bond quite like the one I share with my daddy. As a child he was my hero, as a teen he remained (although I tried to hide that) and as an adult I cling to him even more so and love him unconditionally. I look at him through a set of eyes that see no flaw, no imperfections, downfalls or shortcomings. We have both demonstrated many faults and mistakes throughout our lives, but he forgets/forgives mine as if they never existed and I do the exact same thing for him in return. Perhaps, we both look at each other as we don't look at anyone else...even when we have failed to "measure up" in other people's minds and/or perspectives, our perspective and stance between the two of us...remains unchanged and unaltered.

I hope that each you have a daddy like I do, but I'm a bit partial in my thinking that mine is tops. I placed him on a pedestal many years ago, and it is there that he will forever remain. For those of you who have lost your  daddy, I hate to think of that heartbreak...I cannot. For those of you who still are blessed with yours, tell him today and each day how much you love him, adore him, continue to look up to him, aspire to be more like him and respect the man that he is.

Here are some great songs about Daddies....
The Greatest Man I Never Knew - Reba McEntire
That's My Job - Conway Twitty
To Daddy - Emmylou Harris
He Didn't Have To Be - Brad Paisley
Dance With My Father - Luther Van Dross
Just the Two of Us - Will Smith
Daughters - John Mayer
Daddy - Beyonce
My Father's Eyes - Eric Clapton
Butterfly Kisses - Bob Carlisle
Seein' My Father in Me - Paul Overstreet
Jacob's Ladder - Mark Wills

Happy Father's Day 2012 to each and every daddy who reads this and all daughters/sons that think there is no other man on earth quite like their daddy and could never compare!

This is mine...the one that most reminds me of my daddy and our relationship.

So, You Graduated Summa Cum Laude?

When I was in my practicum classes during the last semester at EKU, I recall one of my professors, saying, "what you have earned, this paper that declares your achievement, this diploma can never be taken away from you"...He, was right, but boy has the game changed. The game plan, and its entirety seems a bit harder to play...much less come out winning.

As a college grad, I now work a job outside of my home, I write freelance for TWO different media facets and am currently speaking with someone about Sports Writing. Sports Writing? Sure, I'm educated in some different sports facets...but did I ever envision that I would even consider, much less send writing samples to an MVP of the Sports Writing empire via web? Nope, absolutely never, ever...e-v-e-r.

So, my music blog this week salutes the hard working people that are currently working one, two...four jobs or more in fields of work they never thought they'd put an effort towards, or those of you who dedicate your lives in a field or body of work that they absolutely love....not loathe.

Here's some great "work" songs....

Shiftwork- Kenny Chesney and George Strait
40 Hour Week (for a livin')- Alabama
Working for the Weekend- Loverboy
Lord Have Mercy, on the Workin' Man - Travis Tritt
Workin' Man Blues - Merle Haggard
She Works Hard for the Money - Donna Summer
Workin' For a Livin' - Huey Lewis and the News
Slave to the Grind - Skid Row
Cleaning Windows - Van Morrison
Let's Work - Mick Jagger
Working Class Hero - John Lennon
Little Man - Alan Jackson
Finest Work Song- R.E.M.

Here's a fun one...just for kicks! 

Have a great work week!

It's a Sip of Wine...It's Summertime!

This weekend is the "unofficial" kickoff of summer. I can't help but to recall all of the songs that define each of our summer memories and current happenings, no matter what our current age. We each have our "favs"...the music that makes us think of all the spectacular events that this time of year brings to mind and the euphoria that comes along with it...both past and present.

Here's a few that come to mind:

Summer Nights-Rascal Flatts
C'Mon Ride It-Quad City DJ's
When the Sun Goes Down-Kenny Chesney and Uncle Kracker
Strawberry Wine-Deanna Carter
Good to be Me-Kid Rock and Uncle Kracker
Summertime Blues-Eddie Cochran
All Summer Long-Kid Rock
Summer in the City-Lovin' Spoonful
Water-Brad Paisley
Summer Nights-John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John
Brown Eyed Girl-Van Morrison
That Summer-Garth Brooks
Summer Breeze-Seals and Croft
Summer of '69-Bryan Adams
Summertime-Billy Holiday
Hot Child in the City-Nick Gilder


No doubt about it, we all have 'em...the one's that take us back to the days of our youth or that are currently our favs of present day. Here's mine...what's yours? Why? You don't even need a reason or explanation.
Have a great summer!

Even When I Think It Doesn't Show

Whether you believe that this day is a "Hallmark Day" or not, there's no denying that mothers around the world deserve recognition for the countless sacrifices they have made in the lives of their own children. If it were not for our mothers. We would not have been given life. Biology aside, mom's are pretty magical beings. Moms make us safe in an unsafe world, they heal us (no matter if we're are 8 years old or 38 years old)...and they continue to inspire.

Think of this, a mama who sends a son off to fight a war with the uncertainty of his return..and unfortunately many of those soldiers never hold their mama again. Mamas who get a call in the middle of the night, that phone call telling a parent their child won't be coming back to walk through the doors of their family home due to an accident that their baby, their only child's life has been taken, without a signal warning and words left unspoken. Unable to say a good-bye or saying one least time, "I Love You...I've Always Love You"... (one that my mother and daddy had played out in their own minds in regards to their own daughter countless nights in my youth, I'm certain).

As an adult, I have seen friends who have lost their mothers and dread the day that I lose my own mother. For some sons and daughters, their mother is all that they have ever had to hold onto...the only safe place to fall. So this weekend make sure you tell your mother how much you appreciate, adore and eternally love and are forever indebted to for the remainder of your days. She's the one that's stood up for you when looked around and thought no one was there. In that instant, she calmed your doubts and fear and gave you the strength to believe when you no longer believed in yourself.. with a look a glance, or a word, she gave you the strength to move on. Now, years later I have become my own children's safe place to fall. I hope they know how much their mama loves them unconditionally. No matter where this world may taken them, mama is here. Mama is your home...home is your mama.

Barbara Louise Curtis O'Connell, planted roots for me...then later gave me wings. I am so proud that she is my mother and that my wings carry me home to her whenever I need my nest. I love you mama...yesterday, today and forever. Now, in the present day and the years to come, I vow to be my mother's soft place to fall. I hope she will always know that. She can read my heart and she has witnessed my heart break... as I have known hers. Whether I am triumphant or fall flat on my face, she knows I can get back up, dust myself off and better for it.

There's no love like yours...it's been the greatest of many gifts you have given to your daughter.

And, to all women lucky and blessed beyond measure to be called that little five letter
word that means it so much..."mommy"


Happy Mother's Day 2012!

Trying to Prove I Still Can

On Saturday night, I attended the Kentucky Derby Fest-a-Ville Concert Series. I had been waiting 2 months for his arrival and performance ever since it was announced that Eddie Money would be at Waterfront Park. It was everything and more that I believed it and wanted it to be. He, of course, is quite a bit older now so I wasn't sure what to expect...but he "turned up the music just as loud as it could go" alongside the Ohio River, singing all of my favorites; Walk on Water, I Wanna Go Back, Take Me Home Tonight, Two Tickets to Paradise, I Think I'm in Love, and my personal fav...Shakin'.


I was feeling good...in my element. But, there is irony all over this night and the hours that have since followed. It's laughable really, if you are a middle aged man or woman. I wore heels last night, no problem...this morning, big mistake. I can barely walk. I stayed up way later than my norm, another mistake. I feel hungover, but I insist that I am not. Why? Because draft was 8 bucks a cup. I had a limit, and I did not allot that much for bottomless cups of brew. I did indulge a little and it was the best draft I ever had...I normally don't even care for draft, gives me a headache. I danced, stood up, sang loudly and gave him more shout outs and yelps than I can count, the ENTIRE duration of the show. Today, I can barely move and my throat is as sore as my middle aged self has felt in quite awhile...my body is saying or should I say screaming out...Kelly, what in the hell? That hit by a mac truck kinda thing, yep that's me. I'm sure each of you have had these feelings at least one time...most of you, more times than you care to mention and/or recall. I am not complaining. It was a great night. I had the chance to meet him and speak to him. I told him probably more than he wanted to hear from a complete stranger in Louisville, KY. but I didn't care. I had waited my turn (just like everyone else) and I wanted to talk to him.

I guess the entire chain of events made me think about the aging Eddie Money, myself and the rest of the natural world's population as we know it. I'm sure that Ed would like to be performing in sold-out arenas across the country, but instead he performs where and when he can. He has a son to put through college just like many of us are planning to do, currently doing or will be doing at some point in the future if you have a child or children. In a society that thrives on good looks, abilities and accolades...sometimes, it's a bit painful...wanting to recapture a piece of our youth. That fact alone, a glance back into my younger days and all that they implied, was one of the reasons I wanted to attend the venue in the first place. Our glory days can be quite a double edged sword. Eddie Money hasn't had a billboard hit in years. I wasn't going to hear his latest releases...I wanted the stuff I knew, the lyrics I loved.

Ironically, maybe that's a plus of getting older too, we know what we like, we are comfortable with what we know and we stay with that. Does that make us Classics like many of the artists of the 1980s and early 1990s? I'd rather be a classic any day of the week than a fly by night.

With Each Moment Comes a Soundtrack...All Our Own

This week, my 17 year-old brought up a topic, a memory of a first. He told me that when he finally rode alone in his car for the first time a song came on the radio, Jason Derulo's Ridin' Solo. At that moment, I knew exactly those feelings and how independent a teen feels behind the wheel, actually ridin' solo...for the very first time. If I could bottle that feeling for him...I'd do just that.

My car, that daddy bought for me, sat in our garage for 2 months before my 16th birthday. I used to just go out there and sit in it, anticipating the day that I would be behind the wheel. When the day arrived, and I passed my driving test, I left Cardinal Heights heading to Tattersall Estates, 315 Kelso Trail. It was a driveway I pulled in that day and countless other days after that. My song that day in June on my way to pick her up was Bella Donna by Stevie Nicks. I've never asked her, but I think she was just as ecstatic that day as I was. We had no idea the miles we'd travel and memories we would make in that red car. If I could bottle that feeling for she and I...I'd do just that.

When I was in high school, our football team was anticipating and leaving school that day to compete for the Class AA Championship at Cardinal Stadium in Louisville, KY. I was a Junior in the fall of 1990. The day our team was leaving, our school secretary played a song between each class period, Survivor's, Eye of the Tiger. Now, every time I hear even the beginning of that song...I think of that day at OUR school. I remember how euphoric it was and how excited we were in hopes that the Corbin Redhounds would win it all at state. We didn't, but that's not the point. The secretary, who retired from my Alma mater years ago...passed away this year. After learning of her death, I thought of that day in 1990, that song and her. I saw her face, her smile...even remembered her voice, and how she had played that song on that day for all of us. Funny, the things we recall.

I remember my exact locale on the day I heard, "We the jury...find the defendant, Orenthal James Simpson, not guilty of the crime of murder". I was driving northbound on I-75, between Frankfort and Louisville... mortified and shocked. The station I was listening to, played the song, Independence Day by Martina McBride right after the news release. To this day, each time I hear it, I am taken back to that very day. This, the first time in my young adult life that I realized that justice was not always swift nor did it always prevail. Little did I know, that those two words, "not guilty"...would instantaneously divide an entire nation.

When I was 22 years old, my maternal grandmother was losing her battle with cancer. The afternoon I was called "home" to Louisville to be with her, I raced to be at her side commuting from Corbin. The song, When You're Gone by The Cranberries played as I veered onto the interstate from Exit 29. Now, that song and each time I hear it takes me back to that place and time in my life and how my heart was broken. But since, that song has became a fitting tribute to the matriarch that I adored and who blessed my life for 22 years, and continues to...even in death. What a heroine..and she was mine.

Indeed, musical stamps permanently leave imprints that are never seen, only and always felt...whether triumphant or tragic, that's where they remain. The songs that are symbolic to specific times in each of our lives, milestones, memory triggers...sometimes whether we want them to resurface or not they show themselves. I purposely left out any clips or pictures in today's blog...you each have a soundtrack all your own.

Whether You're a Brother or Whether You're a Lover

Only Elvis, The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Garth Brooks and Paul McCartney have outsold this musical trio in worldwide record sales. Their three part harmonies are automatically and instantly recognizable from the first note played the first word uttered. They co-wrote every song, every hit...and wrote and produced numerous other recordings for several other major artists. They are the Brothers Gibb or Maurice, Barry and Robin, but we know them as the Bee Gees. 

In recent news, Robin Gibb has been in a coma, has colorectal cancer, suffering from pneumonia and the same type of illness that his brother, Maurice succumb to in 2003. Robin in the past few days, we have learned, did awaken from the coma...but his holistic health and recovery remains hanging in the balance. 

They have had a broad spectrum of incomparable success, and their biggest successes began in the latter years of the 1970s, the Disco Era. The movies, Saturday Night Fever and Stayin' Alive set them permanently on the map of musical majesty. Who remembers? How could we forget? Those two albums alone skyrocketed them into a decade of music that is still appreciated today, maybe even more so than at the time.

The release of the soundtrack, Saturday Night Fever became the number one selling soundtrack of all time...over 40 million copies sold. This was, by all accounts, their first jewel to be placed in their crown. Then the backlash and criticisms of the era that was disco placed their careers in a tailspin. But I assure you disco is not dead...it's alive and breathing through many tracks and here's just a few of their's;

Stayin' Alive, How Deep is Your Love, More Than a Woman, Night Fever, You Should Be Dancin', Heartbreaker, Tragedy, Jive Talkin', and Emotion.

My mother and I went to the cinema to see both Saturday Night Fever and Stayin' Alive. That's when I first fell in love with Travolta and The Bee Gees. It was a double feature at the cinema in my hometown of Corbin, KY. I first saw Travolta in the movie, Grease (that continues to be one of my all-time favorites) with my mother as well in 1978. Still, Danny Zuko with all his T-Birds and Pink Ladies combined were not half as cool as Tony Manero or The Bee Gees.

America's Music Chaperone

I recall waking up on Saturday mornings and watching a show, American Bandstand. From one hit wonders to musical gods he introduced us to each of them over the years. Dick Clark, ageless and timeless, he seemed to me. Today, an end of an era for those of us who grew up watching Bandstand and Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve...we salute one last time to Clark, who died today from a massive heart attack at age 82.

Here's a quick reference to all the acts who ever performed and/or interviewed on American Bandstand.
 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_acts_who_appeared_on_American_Bandstand

The show, American Bandstand, aired from 1952 to 1989. Clark was the host from 1956 until its final season. He became a media and music mogul, leaving an impact on all that was music and dance...an imprint that was made, and undoubtedly will remain. He has turned out more than 7,500 hours of programming on our television sets; 30 series, 250 specials, and 20+ movies for theater and TV. Clark's accolades include: Emmys, Grammys, Inductee to the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, OH. and a star on the Hollywood Wall of Fame.

Eternally youthful, he "owned" that. He remarked, when asked about his youthful appearance after all these years, "it's just good genes". Forever young, he has left an indelible mark on nameless faceless fans of television and music..today, yesterday, tomorrow.

So today, we should salute, using that same gesture to him as he did to all of us at the end of every show...on every Saturday morning that we welcomed him into our living rooms. The next generation will, (in all likelihood) view Seacrest carrying the torch that Clark so brilliantly lit. As for the kids of the 60s, 70s and 80s...we will always and only know Clark as king. What a presence. It is only fitting, that I conclude with simply this... his own catchphrase, "For now, Dick Clark, so long"...

Look To Your Left

This week, I took my eldest of three sons to get fitted for his tux for his upcoming Senior Prom. Soon, he will attend the event, and make a memory that will last the remainder of his life. Then another milestone, in a little over a month, his high school commencement. He has been such a blessing in my life, the truest and purest gift that I have ever received and am forever indebted to. If I am to get paid for my raising, as some have warned, it is not through this young man. Not without flaws, of course, and far from perfection...but, my perfection.

A parent envisions the moments along the way...the first love, the first car, the Senior Prom, graduation, thus, his promises or falsehoods of the days to come. I remember well, (almost) 20 years ago, my high school commencement. I was sitting with my high school class and the principal said, "look to your left, then look to your right...this will be the last time that all of you will be in the same room at the same time, together." He was right, I knew that then.

A few years ago, my son and I attended a concert at Cardinal Stadium during the Kentucky State Fair, Boyz II Men. He wanted to go, so we went. Two songs that were his favs, mine too, Motown Philly and It's So Hard To Say Good-Bye. But, there was one song that stood out from all the rest, and I was so glad to be there in that moment...with MY son. We (the audience) were asked to call our mamas' and tell them how much we loved them, before they sang the song, A Song For Mama. You should have seen all the people calling from their cellphones that night in Louisville, KY. It was awesome. My son has the very song to this day on his iPod (with others I'm not particularly fond of), but that's not the point. I hope he takes that memory of he and I that night, and puts it in a file and thinks of it fondly...remembering how much his mama has adored him. How proud I am that he is my son.

So, for the Class of 2012 (and their mamas), and to ones that will follow, know that every mile is a memory...not all great, and even when you feel defeated...its still worth every single step. Say good-bye to yesterday, you'll at times want it back...but, you just take it with you on a brand new journey that you are about to embark upon. So, hold on tight when you need to, but throw your hands up when you can...it's quite a ride.

It's All Gravy

When she reads this, I hope she knows this one is for her. Just for her. Bonded as family, not by blood...but by something much greater, a tremendous friendship. She and I have had very different journeys, but somehow relate to each other's struggles and strife. On our terms, we have a mutual understanding...no passing of judgement. As it should be, with friendships based on respect for one another...without having to share words. It exists there, and there it remains. Flourishes, when given the chance.

A few months ago, we met for dinner and drinks... the conversation lasted for hours. She comforted me with her words, helped dry my tears when needed and then, for no particular reason, we would switch gears... laughing aloud, without boundaries. We both needed that day...just us.

The next day, I opened an email from my friend. The email was the lyrics to a song (in its entirety) that she had listened to on her commute that very next morning....and thought of me. She wasn't feeling sorry for me, nope, absolutely not...she was giving me an anthem. Little did she know, that I had already identified with the song in more ways that I could explain. I have a feeling, she too had identified with it as well, in ways that I wasn't aware of, but could understand. An anthem that correlated to perfection with the words she had spoken to me the night before sitting in that restaurant, "Kelly, just let it go, let it all go"...

She knew that I had been carrying more that I could handle...similar in weight to what she had been carrying, but different. She herself was learning to...just let it go. She had, learned a lot...and her hope for me, was to find what I was looking for.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, 

but also to the interests of others.” 
~ Phil 2:3,4

It's a Long Walk to Nashville, Would You Like a Ride Son?

In a society that has seemingly forgotten just what country music really is, it's hard for most to recall the roots of real country. Being from Kentucky, I've never forgotten all the names, titles... back-stories, if you will, of the genre that started simple, but made a mark not only in their industry, but beyond Nashville...and the Opry.

If you know country, you know them by first name only; Willie, Hank Sr., Waylon, Merle, Loretta, Patsy, Dolly, Tanya, Johnny, Kitty, David Alan, Hank Jr....

Several years ago, my husband and I, (then boyfriend) attended a concert @ the Kentucky State Fair, (Freedom Hall) in Louisville, Ky... the year, 1993. He (my now spouse), was convinced then, and still believes, that everything that Alan Jackson touches is "gold". I really wasn't crazy about going to the concert, but liked some of Jackson's music, so we went. At the time, Jackson was in his prime, and we saw him in his signature jeans and his forever long legs...our seats, 7th row. It was quite a show, although I didn't want to admit it.

He sang a song that night in Louisville that I've never forgotten, later he released it on an album entitled,
Under the Influence. That night in Louisville, Jackson belted out...

...He's just a singer, a natural born guitar ringer,
kinda of clinger...to sad ole songs,
he's not a walk be-hinder,
he's a new note finder,
his names a reminder...
of a blue's man that's already gone,
So he started drinkin'
...took some things that messed up his thinkin'


In the background, on that stage, on a huge screen behind Alan Jackson..an emblem appeared, the very one associated with Hank Williams, Jr. If you know Hank...you can envision my description... that picture. Jackson sang it, the crowd raised and lit their lighters...it was a standstill.

This year, Hank Williams, Jr. will be at Freedom Hall...at the Kentucky State Fair. We will be in attendance. I hope that he sings "The Blue's Man"...his version. What a story he has had...and continues to tell. 

Signature Shades

Known, as the Horse Whisperer, Bob Baffert has a sharp eye for thoroughbred excellence. In the Sport of Kings, he has a crown all his own, unparalleled to most...envied my many. His name, presence...is synonymous with horse racing and the greatest 2 minutes in sports, The Kentucky Derby. Odds are, (pun intended) this year may be bittersweet for Baffert, last month he suffered a heart attack while in Dubai. The legendary 3 time derby winner trainer is reportedly doing quite well. He has 2 horses in this years running, Secret Circle and Liaison.


Previous Derby Winners Include;
Silver Charm (1997)
Real Quiet (1998)
War Emblem (2002)

So, I began to think of all the music that is associated with all that encompasses the Kentucky Derby. Of course, My Old Kentucky Home is played (traditionally) as horses, jockeys, owners and trainers walk the track...at the "call to the post". Many times, during national TV race coverage as horses are viewed and each a biography is told to us, we begin to understand each thoroughbreds journey, bloodlines, current stakes, etc. A beautiful song titled, Run For The Roses sang by, Dan Fogelberg; is also associated with the traditional run for the roses. It's an ode to the American Thoroughbred, The Bluegrass, what champions are made of...and what lies ahead, no one could fathom.
...a chance of a lifetime...in a lifetime of chance... It's born in the blood.

Each year, the first Saturday in May in Louisville, KY when I watch him walking the track...in his signature shades, one song I always think of (besides the two mentioned above)...it fits him, like no other ( I think, anyway).

Perhaps, he listens to it on his iPod. If he doesn't, he certainly should.

Smooth as Tennessee Whiskey

When I was five years old, my daddy bought a white boat (I don't recall the maker), it was a ski boat. I remember vaguely the day I saw it. When I was five, daddy handed me a life jacket, and I learned how to swim. But when I was 8 years old, I recall (if it was just yesterday), the day he bought a brand new Glassport @ Marine Myers in my hometown, Corbin, KY. I remember standing on the boat trailer and looking into a beautiful interior of red and gray that matched the exterior of the water machine. It was the colors that I knew, and later grew to love...Corbin Redhound red. As I toured that boat...admired it with daddy, I had no idea what memories that we would make from that moment on. The thought of those times, to this day...are sacred. From the time I saw it, I loved it...adored it, (almost as much as I have adored him), on that hill that led to our home, 11 Skylark Drive.
Daddy and I took in out on Laurel Lake to run it on the water that same night (mother didn't join us,she didn't care for the lake). It was a picturesque evening, and the sun was brilliantly reflecting off of the most beautiful body of water I'd ever seen...the only current, was the one we carved in the water.
Daddy had brought a cassette tape with us, one that @ that the time I didn't appreciate, but have grown to love. George Jones, from the album, I Am What I Am. That eve, we listened to George, as he sang to us...If Drinking Don't Kill Me, Good Hearted Woman (w/ Waylon and Willie), I'm Not Ready Yet, but, one stood out, more than all the rest of the tracks..."He said I"ll love you, til I die"... of course it continued... playing out, He Stopped Loving Her Today.
I have never asked daddy if he remembers our first venture in/on the brand new boat, but its a venture that is chiseled in my mind. I'll love Maurice Ronald O'Connell til I die, not for that day...but everyday before that day and since. He has loved me, through it all...perhaps, I should underline it in red... single, I love you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggkyQ8RqOvc

Just To Die For

Music can have an intrinsic or extrinsic meaning. It is heard and perceived by individuals however they believe it to be...what it means to them. I have always loved songs that were "storytellers"...but, I also have a tendency to enjoy songs that seem to have an obscure message or seem quite meaningless. We all love genres, artists, songs that WE relate to. All of us.
So, what if a song makes you feel like doing something? A drinking song? A love song? A cheating song? A song that is uplifting or heart wrenching? A dancing tune? Something that when we hear it, makes us cry?
Yep, we all have particular ones that we love or love to hate, guilty pleasures...if you will. So, how bout a song...to die for?

"Suicide Solution" was a cut from Ozzy Osbourne's 1980 album, Blizzard of Ozz, and this very track landed Osbourne in court, January 1986. The parents of 16 year old, John McCullen, blamed Osbourne's lyrics for the death of their son. Not only the lyrics, but the subliminal messages within, when the vinyl was played backwards. Their son shot himself, while listening to the song. Osbourne was cleared of any wrong doing. Osbourne claims that the "solution" he referred to in the song was alcohol. It was a musical tribute to another hard rocker, Bon Scott of AC/DC. Scott, who died of alcohol poisoning.

Of course, there are other artists/songs that have been accused of lyrically influencing their listeners within their recordings, and even legalities for these artists (in some cases).

* 16 year old, shoots himself while listening to AC/DC, Shoot to Thrill
* 18 year old, hung himself from closet door listening to the Pink Floyd album The Wall
* Marilyn Manson's music (in its entirety) was publicly linked to the Columbine High School tragedy. The shooters were known as "Emo's". It was later revealed that the two gunman really weren't fans of Manson, nor his music. But, did like KMFDM, a "dark" type of band.

Undoubtedly, these are horrible tragedies, death too young, too soon...at their own hand. BUT, if you or I listened to Ice-T's, Cop Killa (which I don't)...chances are we would refrain from planning and following through with killing a member or members of law enforcement. I am a huge fan of Pink Floyd and Roger Waters...it doesn't indicate that I am suicidal. I love AC/DC's, Shoot to Thrill...but, I've never fathomed the use of a rifle to end my own life. With that being said, I cannot imagine the mental or psychological problems that these young people were suffering from. Only they know what influenced them to make the choices they made and act on those thoughts. What was their heartache, thoughts, disappointments, the internal madness within each of them? We may never know the answers to many questions. Only they knew what was buried within themselves, and that was taken along with them...to the grave.