Hot rod guitars and old friends.

I could write and talk about guitars all day, to be honest. So, if you came here hoping for a new travelogue post about what to do in Rome, you’ll want to come back tomorrow. Today our topic is again the details and minutiae of my hot new guitar rig and the joys of reconnecting with old friends.

This past weekend I played the new amp rig and my recently-modified Stratocaster in our worship services. Overall, it went really well and I am very pleased with the new sound. Most of the songs this week were guitar-driven, blues-rock infused styles and I was especially happy with the big, crunchy sound that the little amp delivered. I still need to tweak and refine some of the clean, sparkly, textural sounds that I often use as those seemed harder to get to and control. This involves some rather extensive reprogramming of my aforementioned Boss GT-6. But I must say that when I needed the bark and growl (and who doesn’t need that in worship?), it was right there at my fingertips and loads of fun. When we we hit the chorus of The Newsboys’ version of “Amazing Love”, I had this humongous, warm, rich, textured heavy-rock rhythm sound that was just...inspiring. Amen.

I am just as excited about the new Tex-Tone pickup that I installed in the bridge last week as I am about the new amp. It has a completely different, and far more nuanced, sound than the stock pickup. The output level is not noticeably different than the still stock middle and neck pickups, but it definitely has a nicer tone. One of the best things about it is the way it seems to respond to the tone control knob. Like most Strat players, for years the bridge tone control has been largely superfluous, left wide open (on 10!) nearly all the time. But with the Tex-Tone, I actually found that it was useful for rolling of some of the highs when I wanted to have the characteristic bite, but perhaps not quite as much razor-pointy edge as this pickup is capable of. That kind of flexibility is a surprising and unique benefit.

I had one annoying problem that cropped up at the end of the Saturday night service, an audible 60-cycle hum. It wasn’t terrible and in fact, was unnoticeable on the overdriven sounds, but it did prevent me from using it on clean rhythm sounds. Interestingly, tube amps often have some hum and my Valve Jr. is astonishingly quiet as tube amps go. It was immediately obvious to me that it was my guitar that had the problem. But I have modified a fair number of guitars through the years and, from experience, that sound is virtually always due to a cold solder joint or flaky ground wire. So I will do a little remedial troubleshooting this week and it will be fine.

Ultimately, I may want a somewhat hotter pickup on the bridge, moving this one into the middle or neck position since a little extra output on the back never hurts, but for now I’m satisfied to leave it as it is for a few weeks to see what happens.

I am also waiting for a set of new Fender locking tuners to put on this guitar which will help stabilize the tuning and increase the functionality of the whammy bar.   The high-E string tuner has been busted since New Years Eve, actually, and I have just been procrastinating.  I also did a minor cut-down modification on the plastic backplate to facilitate access and speed up restringing.  That one I've been meaning to do for a couple of years. 

To the uninitiated, I realize this all sounds pretty esoteric.  Like listening to the guys at the hot-rod swap meets talk about customizing their collector cars.  It is like that, only much cheaper.

Tex-Tone Pickups are handmade by a good friend in Texas, David Allmon. He and I reconnected a couple of weeks ago after having lost touch for at least fifteen years. Without the Internet, that might have never happened.  The coolest thing was that, once we started talking, it was like no time had passed.  I love that...and it almost never happens.  David is a blessing and always has been. He is married to a wonderful girl, Kimala, and they have a teenage son. 

But back in the late 80's, he wasn't hand winding precision-engineered, custom-designed electric guitar components.  Nope, he was rocking like a hurricane as you can clearly see in this picture:

Heh. David is the one on the right.  With the mane.  

And, from the sound of things, my friend is still rocking it.  While I've never been genetically capable of growing hair like that, to be fair, I don't look the same as I did in the late 80's, either.  And Lord knows I'm not going to post a picture of me from that era on my website, so here is a recent one of me about to enjoy a nice antipasto in Rome:

I am married to an international travel photojournalist

Well, you knew that already from her Flickr pages. But go here to read an interesting online article about the opening of a recently discovered pagan tomb from the second century A.D. under St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. The author asked Nancy for permission to use a couple of her photos for the feature.

Pizza - What it is and what it ain't

Speaking of pizza, here’s the deal. I love America, I really do, completely, without reservation, and well beyond the limitations of reason. And we do so much so very well. But when it comes to pizza...well, we just don’t do it right.

Here in America, the focus is on the wrong things. The primary problem is foundational, and it is that the quality of the crust is basically ignored. Even the word crust marginalizes it’s importance. All mass produced pizzas basically see the crust merely as a delivery system for the toppings. The quality of the bread is not even a consideration, evidently, in domestic pizza. In Italy, the crust itself is a thing of beauty, simple, but savory, textured and flavorful. It helps that virtually every pizzeria has some type of classic brick oven, like this:

Secondly, the toppings are all wrong. In fact, the culinary philosophy that underlies our pizza is so compromised, so stunted, that our cultural expectations of what a great pizza should be fall far short of what truly is possible. We don't even know what we are missing, sadly enough, so mediocrity has become our benchmark of quality, represented by Pizza Hut, Papa John's, et al.  First and foremost, only fresh ingredients should be used to top a pizza. I really can’t emphasize that enough. After the unbelievable taste of the pizza bread, the single most startlingly delicious thing about genuine Italian pizza is that ALL of the ingredients are fresh. Tomatoes (Roma or Campari, mostly), spinach, zucchini, bell peppers (raw or roasted), onion, garlic, meat. ALL OF THEM. FRESH. (Well, okay, except for the anchovies...salt-cured, packed in cans).

(In fact, let me take this opportunity to assert here that unless you are going on a 6-month sea voyage or stockpiling for the coming apocalypse, there simply are no acceptable uses for canned mushrooms. Those wet, slimy, nasty little giblets do not belong anywhere, and absolutely never, ever on a pizza.)

And, by the way, in Italy, probably only 50% of the pizza available use some type of tomato sauce as a base. It’s only one of several possibilities and it is not a requirement.

Thirdly, there’s the cheese. Forget about the packaged, pre-shredded cheese-like products from Kraft, Sargento, Yoder, etc. that hang in the cold food section of your grocery. I’m not 100% sure that stuff is even cheese and neither are you. That is what they are putting on your pizza at your typical pizza restaurant. When you make pizza at home, you need to NOT use that crap. I know it’s easy and cheap. That’s because it’s not real. So suck it up and just get the real, actual ingredients that God intended you eat. Look, most of your major grocery chains have specialty cheese sections over there by the deli. What you need to do is buy a ball of fresh mozzarella, for starters. It looks like this:

It’s probably made in Wisconsin, not Italy, but that can’t be helped and it will still be a vast improvement over what you are used to. While you are there, pick up some REAL parmesan cheese, not that stuff in the little green can.

Fourthly, meat toppings on Italian pizza are wonderfully varied. They use a variety of locally produced sausage, pepperoni, pancetta (sorta like bacon), prosciutto, ham, veal, lamb, and assorted seafood. What you won’t find is hamburger. No ground beef. I don’t know why this is the case, but I know I certainly did not miss it.  I really could do a whole post on the wonders of prosciutto, by the way, but I will probably spare you.

Now, just a little bit about construction. In America, we want our pizzas to be covered, edge-to-edge, usually with as many different, processed ingredients as possible on a canned, gooey, red tomato-ish sauce. Possibly we do this to hide the tasteless, doughy bread underneath, but really I think it is because we have this sad, misinformed idea that more is always better. If a little bit is good, then more must be better. This is usually wrong in all areas of life, but especially with food. Without necessarily making a broad sweeping indictment of our contemporary culture, when it comes to food, in America it seems we often try compensate for a lack of quality with an overwhelming quantity. (Ever been to a Cracker Barrel?)

In Italy, you will have fewer ingredients on your pizza. No thick melange of garbled, confused flavors. No heavy spices. Instead, the fresh flavors of two or three high-quality ingredients blend and expand in your mouth. You might have some sprigs of fresh baby arugula sprinkled on top, or a little chopped oregano. It might be lightly drizzled with a sweet olive oil.

And let me just say this. Life is too short for cheap olive oil. Don’t buy the store brand. Get the good kind, the genuine Italian extra virgin olive oil. Get the best you can find.  I promise it makes a difference. The cheap stuff is not good and the good stuff is not cheap...and that is a principle that holds for most things in life.

In Rome we ate a lot of pizza. Every place was different and unique.  Most of the places were family owned and every pizza we had was far, far better than anything we’ve found available in restaurants here. One of our favorites was Pizza Boom, near the street market on Via Trastavere. But the very best place was recommended to us by our Italian friend, Federico the First, who told us, “You must not eat pizza just anywhere in Rome. You will go to Forno. It is the best.  But you must go before noon.  It is very important.”


So we went to Forno Cerulli, arriving about 11:45 AM for lunch.  It was tiny and packed with local Italians.  It was clearly a place that did a huge business.   There were no tables or chairs, just a long deli style counter on one side and a narrow bar at which one stood to eat on the other side. Several employees were working at full throttle to service the hungry, amiable throng.  Most people were getting their pizza to go, but we crowded in with a few others to eat and watch the action.  

Federico was right.  It was the best.  More on our friend Federico later.

Cavaliers 2008

Today JP heads off to Rosemont, Illinois, the Chicago suburb.  He is a Cavalier, playing and marching with the renown DCI drum & bugle corps all summer for their 2008 season.  Except for those times when the corps is competing or performing in our area, we won't see him again until mid-August.

Every year, hundreds of young men from all over the world audition for very few openings, so

 it is both quite an honor and a testimony to his skill and hard work that he made it again.  This 

is the culmination of a dream that he has had 

since he was in junior high school.  It is his second and last year with the Cavaliers since, at 21, he ages out.  He was an alternate last season but will be marching as a starter this year.  This is a big year, too, for the Cavvies since it is their 60th anniversary.  

He's already been to several preseason weekend camps, but now he's moving in.  The physical and mental training is very intense and the musical instruction is world-class.  And there will be many hours spent crisscrossing the country on busses and and sleeping in school gymnasiums.

We'll miss him but are very proud of all he's doing these days.

Please pray for Stephen Curtis Chapman and his family.

This is such a heartbreaking tragedy.  I can't imagine the grief that they must feel at the death of their daughter, accidently killed yesterday by her big brother.

Bob Brozman - Bottleneck Blues Lesson

Here is a short primer on how to play basic acoustic slide guitar blues. Be sure to check out the video links.  This is an excellent first lesson from one of the masters.

h/t www.acousticguitar.com

Epiphone Valve Jr. Mini-Stack

It sounds great.  I can't believe how loud a 5-watt tube amp can be.  Even Roxi, our 16-year old mutt, who hasn't heard anything for several years, cast it a baleful glance as I was trying it out.

Today I install the new bridge pickup in my Stratocaster from my long-time friend David Allmon of Tex-Tone Pickups.  I can't wait.

Mail Order Inspiration

From time-to-time I descend into this place were I don't like any of my guitar equipment and I feel like, for life to continue, I need all new stuff. The malaise presents itself as a creeping and unrelenting dissatisfaction with my tone, my playing, and a general lack of creative inspiration. In effect, it is a slump.

It shouldn't be about the gear, I know, but when sound is your palette, it really helps to get some new colors once in a while.  For the last 6 years or so, my primary tonal effects device is a Boss GT-6:

The GT-6 is a very versatile, fully professional, and great sounding tool. There is a lot of serious processing going on under the hood and it really does a good job. In terms of my regular gig, in particular, playing contemporary praise and worship styles in our church, it works very well. Stylistically, in the course of one service, it is not uncommon for me to have to quickly switch sounds from jazz to country to hard rock, from ambient sound effects to rhythm to lead, and all shades in between.

If there is a weakness in the Boss, and in most all-inclusive integrated effects devices, it is simply that, though they do many things well, they seem to lack a certain, idiosyncratic character that I am more and more trying to find in my playing.

So, I need new stuff. I am willing to concede that this is quite likely a sign of mental illness or, at least, moral weakness.  

But the refreshing winds of change are a-blowin', I am happy to say.   Lord willing, one of these babies will arrive on my doorstep today:

This is an Epiphone Valve Jr. Half-Stack. It is a 5-watt all-tube amplifier. I expect it will be awesome.  It is an early Father's Day present.  I am very pleased.

Now, to be precise, I am not replacing my Boss multi-effects with this new amp.  In fact, for the foreseeable future, the GT-6 will remain my "front-end", effectively driving this amp.  I am replacing a very faithful, 20-year old customized Peavey Stereo Chorus solid-state dual-12 amp (no pic available on Google - it's that old!) that I've used for a long, long time.  But my expectation (and hope) is that the Epiphone is going to change my sound quite dramatically.  

I'm also customizing my Strat a bit, too, going to a custom, hand-wound pickup made by a friend of mine.  That is an exciting prospect, too, and deserves its own post later in the week after I've installed it.

One Month Ago

One month ago today we arrived in Rome, jetting in from Frankfurt. I blogged about that here.  On Sunday, the 20th, the following day, I made the following journal entry:

Slept late. Went to the market in southern Rome near Stazio Trastavere about 2:00. Cruised around, bought some stuff. On the way home, we ate pizza at a local sidewalk pizzaria called Pizza Boom, and it was wonderful.


Came back. took nap until about 6:00. Tried to go to Chiesa di Santa Maria in Trastavere (sp?) and did make it to that area, but were unable to find the actual church. We did find some wonderful shops and and restaurants nestled in the alley ways. We had a gelato, Strawberry and Kaffe And after walking and shopping a bit, decided to eat a marvelous little place called Pizzaria Pan ‘Uto. I had a antipasto, pasta with a ham, mini-lamb kebobs, chocolate cake, and espresso. NCP had a bruscetta w/roast artichoke tapenade and a wonderful pizza that consisted of salmon, mozzarella, light olive oil, and topped with some kind of fresh herb post cooking, then a fruit cheese cake, and an espresso. It was all wonderful. I enjoyed being able to see the cooks make the food, the pizza crust was incredible...made on site, of course.

Then we went to a record store, FM Non-Stop Music and bought a couple

of albums, G'lam House, Vol. 4, a collection of Italian remixes by various artists, compiled by Andrea Gelli. A lot of it is kind of downtempo and chill, but very nice. Great version of the Police’s “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” Some of it is kind of jazzy, kind of latin, all very groove-centered. Also bought “Illusioni Parallele” by Tiromancino, an up-and-coming band from Rome, recommended by the DJ/proprietor in the store, who was very cool about playing sample tracks and making thoughtful suggestions. He says Tiromancino’s music is electro-pop, but kind of alternative, not real mainstream. Can’t wait to hear more of both.

Hear some of Tiromancino's music here.

We rode the very last tram and then the very last bus home, getting in about 12:15 AM local time.

Art, History, and Architecture in Rome

One of the principal reasons we like to travel is to experience and learn about other cultures, in particular through art and history. Nothing opens one’s mind and expands one sense of and appreciation for other people more than actually going and seeing where and how they live.

Art and history are so intertwined in Italy that it is difficult, and probably pointless, for me to disassociate the two. It is seemingly impossible to consider either one without invoking the other.


The architecture of Italy is fascinating because it reflects both art and history, form and function, in very visceral, immediate way. When one enters the Pantheon, for example, one is compelled to consider simultaneously it’s obvious massive structure, profoundly classic design, and the astonishing constructional detail that goes into each square foot. And then comes the appreciation for the fact that it was completed in 125 A.D. under the authority of the emperor Hadrian. Considering that, still today, it holds the record for the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome, and remembering that the building utensils of the time were mostly primitive hand tools made by other primitive hand tools, one is quickly overtaken by a sense of awe. The intricacy and intelligence of the design, and the surpassing beauty of the richly colored carved marble components is incredible. Incredible because of it’s age, because it has survived and continues to thrive some two thousand years later.


Throughout Rome, one sees ongoing restoration and preservation. Italy truly understands and values it's historical significance, to be sure. Just as we observed in Vienna a few years ago, there is an army of workers whose perpetual function is to protect, restore, and preserve the historical and artistic treasures. Something is being worked on all the time.  

More than once I marvelled at the careful and precise methods employed by construction engineers and contractors to simultaneously provide for the installation of modern necessities such as indoor plumbing, ventilation, cooking facilities, and reasonable access while at the same time retaining as much as possible the original look and feel of an ancient building.

One of the things that impressed me so much in all of these ancient structures, was the quality of the maintenance. Looking closely at one of the Pantheon's massive pillars, for example, one sees careful patching and repair work in places. But this is repair work that is most often several centuries old, performed by unknown contract artisans, long dead, using classic technique.

The same type of maintenance, repair and restoration was evident in the statuary rooms of the Vatican museums as well. The Vatican museums were fabulous, by the way. That is a "must see" if you go to Rome, and I will probably have a separate post on that at some point.

Again, I direct you to Nancy's Flickr page for her outstanding photo work.

Yeah, well he's no Einstein...

Lest you think that it is going to be all-Rome-all-the-time around here, there is this article that supports a number of theories that I hold:

1)  Just because you are genius by Man's standards doesn't mean you aren't still a gibbering ignoramus by God's standard.  Duh.

2)  Understanding the truth of the Gospel is not about being smart.  Village idiots and little children can figure it out, for crying out loud.  Which, of course, is what drives so many academics crazy and why so many don't get it.  They don't understand how something so profound, so powerful, and so completely and compellingly true can not be dependent on their ability to understand it.  Understanding follows obedience, not the other way around.

3)  No one will ever understand the Bible unless they are willing to allow themselves to be changed by what they learn.

4)  None of this means that the Bible should not or may not be subjected to man's scrutinous gaze, or that it resists serious study by people wanting to apply their intelligence to understand the word of God.  Rather, "Thou shalt bring it on and giveth unto me your best shot, sayeth the Lord."

Way to go, genius...

Cobblestones

Many of the roads in old Rome are paved with black cobblestones, called sampietrini and they are, for the most part, a specific kind of porphyry, an igneous rock.  They come in different sizes and Rome is famous for them. These large ones are on the footpath in front of the Arco di Constantino, adjacent to the Colosseum.  Most of the stones used on the heavily traversed urban roads in central Rome are actually smaller.  

Here is a short, interesting article about the sampietrini.  It turns out they were invented and adapted as a paving material in the mid-1500's, under the authority of Pope Sixtus V, who looks very grumpy in this picture. (Frankly, most of the papal portraits we saw are pretty stern...it must be grim work.)

As it turns out, the current municipal government of Rome is beginning to replace it's cobblestones with that newfangled asphalt, which is making lots of other folks unhappy, too.  

Thoughts on Rome

We've been back from our wonderful vacation in Italy a week now.  The paucity of posts is due primarily to the fact that within two days of our return I had to prepare for and then work a tradeshow this past week, representing my company, ProAudio.com.  This required substantial time and concentration above and beyond my normal work catch-up.  It was time-consuming, hard work and largely unblogworthy, although I may come back to it at some point.

However, the break has given me the opportunity to distill some of my impressions and observations about our trip.  I am no longer interested in blogging it chronologically, but I do intend to approach it topically, discussing the aspects that I found most enjoyable and interesting.

First, for an outstanding collection of excellent photos, check out Nancy's Flickr page.  Her camera is much better than mine, her artistic eye is impeccable, and her pictures are all great.  I will likely borrow some of her pictures as needed.  She continues to edit and add to her pages there.  Feel free to comment on the photos or ask her a question. Flickr is her Blogger.

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There is so much to see, so much to love about Rome.  One of Anthony Bourdain's aphorisms is "Be a traveler, not a tourist," and that is what we always try to do.  We certainly participated in a number of tourist activities and saw many of the most notable sites, but we planned our trip on our own, eschewing the many pre-packaged tours that are available.  Instead, we read as much as we could, talked to people we know who had been there, and plumbed the depths of the internet for information, making our own decisions on where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do.  One of our goals was to immerse ourselves, as much as possible in one short week, into the culture and life of the people of Rome, and I feel like we achieved that.  We figured out how to ride the buses, how to read the street signs, how to buy a train ticket and, generally, how to move around like the Italians do, and that really increases the quality of the adventure.  

We were blessed with beautiful weather.  Some days were overcast, but the temperature was in the 60's and 70's during the day, and just perfect for walking the streets of Rome.  And walk is

what we did.  We easily did at least 5-7 miles a day, and it is a town that requires footwork in order to see it properly.  The streets are narrow and serpentine, the sidewalks undulate, expanding and sometimes contracting down to nothing.  It is a maze and it is amazing,  Often I would consult our little street map and find that we had wandered off our intended path.  Many of the streets are what we would call alleys here in America, and some are literally only about 20 yards long.  And yet each one has a name and is a destination in its own right.  Each has a history much older than our country.

I really enjoyed observing the people.  A lot of my pictures depict street scenes of people walking around against the beautiful background of stucco and marble buildings.  Rome attracts people from all of the world, obviously, but one of the things that we observed is that no one enjoys this city more than the Romans themselves.  Day or night, there are hordes of people walking, talking, eating, roaming, working, playing, smoking, shopping, and generally imparting an uptempo, vibrant energy to the streets.

In the piazza at the base of the Spanish Steps

Some of the sights really defy adequate description, too.  It is remarkable to find these gigantic, ancient structures, architectural masterpieces, really, of ages long since gone in the middle of this busy city.  Check out this breathtaking view, taken at sunset, the first day we were there, near the Colosseum:

Rome Update...4/24/09

We're still here and still rockin' it Roman-style.  We'll be coming home on Saturday.

Most, but not all of the internet problems have gotten worked out.  There were a number of intersecting issues that are far too tedious to go into that made it difficult and impractical for me to "live-blog" our Rome trip.  Bandwidth problems persist, too.  However, we have some cool stories and about a billion great pictures that I will share when I am able.  I also have a wonderful iPod Touch experience, to share, among other things-that little thing earned it's passage, for sure.

Anyway, it'll be like watching Uncle Billy's and Aunt Flo's home movies and slides of their vacation trip out to Hoover Damn (did I spell that wrong?) last summer, only much, much more interesting to all of you since it it is me and Nancy in Italy.  And it might go on for weeks, so you've got that to look forward to.  Yep.  So don't plan anything for the next month or so.

So, uhm...ciaio!

Dateline: Frankfurt, Germany 4/19/08

The timewarp that accompanies intercontinental flight has set in. My watch and my body says it is 3:00 AM on Saturday, but all of the local clocks and the sun, if one were able to see it through the gray overcast sky, indicate that it is, for all practical purposes, actually 9:00 AM.

The United flight from Dayton to Chicago’s O’Hare was quick and uneventful.

At O’Hare, we walked at least a mile until we at last found the Lufthansa terminal. It was just two little reception desks, a couple of departure gates, and a huge, milling multinational crowd. For some reason, Nancy’s phone didn’t work in the airport as she tried repeatedly to call JP. That was a disappointment. Check in was no problem, but the ticket agent was unable to seat us together, which was a bummer, considering it’s a 13-hour flight. The aircraft was a 747, so even though we were only a couple of rows apart, there was no way to converse.

Nancy and I both tried to negotiate with our neighbors to swap seats, but it didn’t work out. She was seated next to a very nice Indian gentleman, but he was sitting with a group of friends. He was willing, but she didn’t want him to give up his friends. Plus, swapping seats with me meant sitting directly behind the bulkhead in the middle row of 4 seats. Not exactly an ideal spot.

I was sandwiched between two women. On my right was a portly German grandmother whose only English was “I don’t speak English.” No problem, I don’t speak German and so we couldn’t really communicate well on the whole swapping seats deal. In that way that one can and, in such close proximity, must surreptitiously espy on one’s travelling companions, she made me smile several times when she would pull out a stack of photos from her her purse and rifle through them. The pictures seemed to be of her family and her recent trip to America. Each time she sifted through them, she would pull to the top a picture of two very small newborn babies, probably twins, lying on a bed together. She would gaze at this picture for some time, then reshuffle them, and put them back in her purse.

The woman on my left was of indeterminate age and origination, possessing a reserved and somber demeanor. When I asked her if she would swap seats with Nancy, she hesitated, frowned, and then with some reluctance said that she might. She got up and went over to where Nancy was to check out the location, it seemed, but then frowned again and said that she just wasn’t comfortable doing that. She returned to her seat beside me, seemingly embarrassed, but not quite apologetic. That seemed a bit odd, and there was not, at that time, a forthcoming explanation, so we had a weird vibe going on for a little bit. And Nancy and I kept our assigned seats.

In the course of the flight, I spoke some more with this woman because I wanted to know her story. She was born in Greece, on an island, had grown up in Australia, and had for the last 20 years or so lived in Chicago. From the context of our discussion, she must have been in her mid-60’s, although she looked much younger. She told me that she had, over the last few years and as a result of a singularly bad experience, become very fearful of flying and that she simply could not easily change seats or make changes to her flying arrangements. During our take off, as well as during some minor turbulence over Canada, she was clearly tense and ill-at-ease. She has issues, clearly, but her reticence was rooted in phobia, it seemed, not incongeniality. We talked about flying and a bit about our families. She apologized for not being able to help us and I told her that was fine. She was on her way home to Greece, it turned out, as her father as dying and she hoped to be there with him. I wished her the very best and asked the Lord to bless her. I think she is in for a rough couple of weeks. And she had three more flights after ours, each on progressively smaller aircraft, before she reached home.

We are about to board the plane for the last leg of our journey, from Frankfort to Rome.

Earthquake

Yep, we definitely felt it.  Woke us both up about 5:30 AM.   In my sleepy stupor, it sounded at first like a large animal running from one end of the house to the other, banging and bumping on doors, walls, and furniture.  

Nancy said, "What was that?"

To which I responded with my default answer for things that scrape and bump around in the night, "Probably just a mouse."  

She didn't believe it and neither did I.  I got up, grabbed a flashlight, and made the rounds.  Daisy was barking outside.  Roxi, at the age of 16 human years, was unmoved in her bed.  It would take more than an earthquake or typhoon to disturb her slumber.  Finding nothing, I went to back to bed.

Got up an hour later and prepared to leave town.  For Rome.  Italy.  Leaving today.  Blogging, in fact, from the Dayton Int'l Airport.

Well, I sure didn't see this coming...

...but I must say I'm pleasantly surprised:

American Idol(s) singing Hillsong's "Shout To The Lord."  They actually sang it twice, but the link above is the best of the two performances.  

Simon likely thought it "self-indulgent," his usual response to Christian songs.  

I don't place any great spiritual significance on this, actually, but it is still better than a sharp stick in the eye.

h/t blog.worship.com.  Thanks!

1:47 A Documentary Film

photo by Ralph Pyle

"The year is 1968. Across the United States, it was a year of turmoil: the Vietnam War, Civil Rights protests in cities and on college campuses, the assassination of Martin Luther King. Yet, in many small cities and towns a relative calm, almost innocence, prevailed. The documentary film 1:47 tells the story of one such community - Richmond, Indiana - that would lose that calm and innocence in a single fateful day: Saturday, April 6, 1968."

On that fateful day, a massive double explosion rocked the downtown shopping area, not far from the courthouse. Destruction, death, and chaos ensued and this peaceful midwestern community was changed forever.

Richmond is our nearest "big city," roughly 15 miles south of where we live.  Last night, Nancy, my mom, my grandmother, and I went to see this locally-produced documentary in the old theater at the Richmond Museum of Art. It was an absorbing film, incorporating the remembrances of many of the local people whose lives were touched by this tragedy.  The filmmakers do a remarkable job, also, of illuminating the fascinating and important historical context that frames this event.  

1:47 is about to hit the documentary film circuit, and I hope it does very well.

"The Best Little League Game EVER!"

The Mudcats vs. The Lugnuts.

Brought to you by the good folks at Improv Everywhere.

I love these guys.  Go check this out.  

You can thank me later.

---

Vacanza a Roma

Here are some pics of our hotel in Rome, harvested from the fabulous wide-world internet webs.

Residence Pierre Et Vacances Dehon-ii Giardino Phamphilii Hotel

61 Via Leane Dehon Rome, Italy 00165

Here is the description:

The Residence Dehon is a holiday apartment complex blending modern and traditional styles set in the typically-Italian parkland of Rome's Villa Doria Pamphili, two kilometres from the Vatican City. Bright, air-conditioned studio apartments, spread over two buildings, all open onto furnished balconies (terraces on the ground floor) offering views of the surrounding gardens. Each apartment features a living area with a TV and telephone, private bathroom, and kitchenette equipped with hotplates, a refrigerator, and cookware.

Guests can take in the garden surroundings on the terrace or take a dip in the outdoor pool. The restaurant opens out onto the terrace, offering guests the opportunity of an al fresco meal when weather permits.

We got an incredible deal on it...about a $100 a night, which is way below the normal rate. 

And it is within walking distance of St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican, and numerous other outstanding locales.

Lord willing, I'll be liveblogging this avventura romantica and will post photos and reviews of our journeys

Cabinet of Wonders

This blog regularly lives up to it's name.

I found yesterday's post completely absorbing.

Ripped from today's headlnes

Police in Maine are searching for a thief with a guitar in his pants.

Okay, I've got questions...

Was the guitar well-strung?

Could the mall security not see he was wearing a G-string?

Whammy bar?  I'm just asking...

I'm sure you've got questions, too.

Counting your blessings

So how is your day going?

It's so easy to complain about how busy my life is, how I don't get to do everything I want to do, how there's just never quite enough money to get ahead...but I've got sooooo much to be thankful for.  Say a prayer for the guy and his family in the link above.

"SAY" by John Mayer

This is definitely not a MBPYNHO post.  But I really like this song. It was written for the movie, "The Bucket List," which I have not seen but heard good things about.



Let me know what you think.

h/t to JP, who knows a good song when he hears one.

Easter at FCWC

It was a great Easter weekend at our church.  In all three services, we were blessed with extraordinary attendance.  Our pastor, Dave Anderson, delivered a great message and there were many people who either recommitted their lives to Christ or took steps toward a first-time decision to accept Christ.

Among the numerous worship elements in play was a drama that featured as it's figurative and literal centerpiece a humongous cross, 38 feet tall.

The drama was an adaptation of a script and concept from Willow Creek Community Church in Chicago.  Nancy was the driving creative force behind the building of the cross, as well as most of the other artistic elements, but it's realization in our service required a huge team effort by a couple of dozen talented and gifted people.  Here are some photos.

The cross was constructed first from pieces of aluminum triangular trussing.  Then pieces of pressed foam insulation boards were cut and strapped to the trussing with heavy-duty nylon ties.  It was made in two pieces that were ultimately bolted together to form the cross.

After much work and careful fitting, our artists painted the blue foam, scoring and sculpting the face of it with a propane torch.  More painting and touch up followed.

Here is a picture of the finished cross on the stage with some preliminary lighting.  This picture was taken at the drama rehearsal on Saturday.  The basic idea of the script is that this huge cross has crashed through the roof of the house, literally through the middle of the dining room table.  But the family who lives at the house ignore it, going to great lengths to avoid discussion or mention of the cross.  One of the lines mentions something to the effect that they only take note of it at Christmas and Easter.  It was very funny, but also compelling.

Above is a picture from the Saturday night service.  For more pics and detailed info, check out Nancy's Flickr page.

Oops, I think I dropped my fork...

Would you, could you eat some pie?

Could you, should you in the sky?

Dinner in the sky.  Would you do it?

I saw sushi in one of the other pics so, yeah, I would definitely do it.

David Mamet: Why I Am No Longer a 'Brain-Dead Liberal'

I really liked this article about politics from David Mamet, one of the most popular screenplay writers and successful playwrights.

I know, it's politics and it's David Mamet.  But, trust me, it's very good, reasonably short, and well worth your time to read it.

UPDATE:  The Village Voice is evidently having some server problems.  The above link is good, but it appears not to be working consistently.  I have found this article referenced on other sites and have had trouble accessing the original from those sites as well.  I suggest trying again later...sorry about that.

Food Court Musical

This is the coolest thing you will see today. There are few forms of performance art that I dislike more than a "musical." But this, this is outstanding....it would be so much fun to do something like this.




After you watch this clip, go to their website and read about this thing. You'll be glad you did.

New Tune

JP's got a new tune.  Check it out!

Not yet spring...

Butterfly wings on ice...a brutal incongruity.

April in Rome

The Colosseum

In April, we are going to spend a week in Rome.  As in Rome, Italy.  While in Rome, we intend to do as the Romans do.  

As in most things of life, when it comes to international travel arrangements, who you know is more important than what you know.  Thanks to our pastor, we were able to secure an amazing deal on a great apartment not far from downtown.

Yesterday, we ponied up the bucks for the airfare.  Getting there really isn't as expensive as one might expect, only about $2600.

Between now and our departure, we will be thinking about and planning our itinerary.  We intentionally did not latch on to some kind of tour package, preferring instead to chart our own course.   We will certainly be doing some touristy things, and we hope to spend at least a day in Florence, but we really wanted the freedom to explore Italy on our terms.

The Snopes Amazing Music Machine

This is an entertaining animated music video from a couple of years ago. It comes, typically, as a forwarded viral email, with a pretty rough video copy, obscuring much of the detail of the robotic device, making it look like a real, if improbable machine. The Youtube link above actually has a fairly good video copy. The following introductory text is usually included:

This incredible machine was built as a collaborative effort between the Robert M. Trammell Music Conservatory and the Sharon Wick School of Engineering at the University of Iowa.

Amazingly, 97% of the machines components came from John Deere Industries and Irrigation Equipment of Bancroft , Iowa , yes farm equipment!

It took the team a combined 13,029 hours of set-up, alignment, calibration, and tuning before filming this video but as you can see it was WELL worth the effort. It is now on display in the Matthew Gerhard Alumni Hall at the University and is already slated to be donated to the Smithsonian.

That this little fable isn't real doesn't change the fact that it is really an excellent animated music video. But for the rest of the story, and it is an interesting one, be sure to go to: http://www.snopes.com/photos/arts/musicmachine.asp

Rene' Martinez - Texas Guitar Whiz

A transplanted Texan is still a Texan. Regardless of where a Texan goes, Texas goes with him. I think I will always identify strongly with Texas, not simply because it is the land of my birth and the place I lived most of my life. Texas, as an ideal, is in many ways, reflective of not only what is best about being an American, but also of what has always been great about being an American. There is something special about that place. Hey, these aren't my rules, I'm just reporting what I know to be true here.

I suppose it is remotely possible that if I were from Kentucky, Tennessee or, God forbid, even California, I might feel the same way. That somehow some part of the essence of the place of my formative years, goes with me wherever I go. But I doubt it.

All that to say that, since moving to Indiana in 1999, I have not really missed much of the life left behind. I love living in the country and it is very meaningful to me that we live on a patch of ground that has been in my family since James Madison served as Secretary of State. About the only thing I miss is the mix of ethnic cultures that exists in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. I miss having a choice of 5 or 6 excellent Mexican restaurants or barbecue joints within a 1-mile radius of home. And there are a handful of friends and family that I miss seeing as often as I used to. But not much more.

The only other thing I've missed is not having ready access to a high-quality, guitar repair shop. I am fortunate in that I can do a lot of the basic maintenance, and even a fair amount of hot-rodding and customization. I haven't met anyone around here, though, that I trust to do any kind of major surgery. Some things simply cannot be done by a hack, such as fret job or a full transducer refit in a valuable acoustic. Only a real craftsman, a seasoned professional artist, can do these things. Such a person can breathe new life and energy into an instrument, whereas even a well-meaning amateur can maim, cripple, or kill a beloved tool and friend.

A couple of weeks ago I ran across this excellent article about Rene' Martinez. In Texas, for years I always had my guitars repaired and serviced at Charlie's Guitar Shop which, in the world of guitarists, is simply a mythic place. Well do I remember as a 22-year old kid, hanging out there one rainy Saturday afternoon, listening to Bugs Henderson holding court, playing the blues on some old Strat plugged into some old Fender amp, and wandering through the happy chaos of the cramped shop, admiring the wonderful guitars, vintage and new, hanging from the walls. People came from all over the southwest to drop their guitars off for repair, to talk to Charlie and Rene', and to take in the magical ambience of the place. Over the years, Rene' Martinez worked on my mid-70's Gibson Hummingbird (may it rest in peace), my 1976 ES-335TD Sunburst, and at least one of my Ibanez solidbodies, as I can recall.

I didn't know him well, personally, but I remember Rene' Martinez as the considerate and humble artisan that this interview portrays him to be. And his work was unimpeachable. It didn't seem to matter to him whether it was a cheap beginner's guitar or a seasoned custom instrument owned by a pro. He seemed to take the same careful and caring approach, regardless. Every guitar that passed through his hands was better for the experience, whether it was mine, Stevie Ray Vaughn's, Johnnie Winter's, Carlos Santana's, or John Mayer's. It's a blessing to me to see him doing so well.