‘Just a Captain’ to be played on the Radio tonight! This is a song that can break me to pieces when I listen to it alone at night. The song has deep meaning and memories for myself, my brother, and family members.
My father was a talented musician. In the early 1970’s he once shared the stage with a budding group named Aerosmith. My father wrote, sang, and played guitar in numerous bands all over New England.
His song, ‘Just a Captain’ will be played tonight 4/29/21 at 6:45 PM EST on Lazer 99.3 out of East Longmeadow, MA.
If you’d like to listen to the song live you can stream it via the radio station website here: (Just click the ‘Listen Live’ link located on the top right of their website)
I’ll be listening! This is a large moment for my family. Special thanks to my brother, Chris, who contacted the radio station and shared the song with them. Chris also shared a bit of Dad’s life story with them. It turns out they liked the story and the song.
Keep in mind that my Father wrote this song in the mid-to late 70’s and the quality of the recording is of that time period. Either way, in my opinion, it sounds incredible.
When happiness makes its rounds back to me again, I lean into it. I don’t mean marginally happy. I mean the kind of joy that stops you in your tracks and halts any action that was moments ago needed, for one thing, or another. And there you stand, sit, or lay, looking at a blade of grass with the sun shinning and the wind blowing just enough to whisper your name as you tilt your head in an attempt to catch the message.
My two year old
Walked up to me
To the couch-
Pushed me onto it
Crawled into my lap
Pointed at the TV
“Boss Baby. Peez. Yea?”
“Okayyy. We can watch Boss Baby.”
I loved this
I love him
My brother called a month ago to ask if I’d like to be his best man. This will be the fourth time I will be the best man in a wedding. I’m not sure how this keeps happening.
My younger brother has always been my soft spot. He was my saving grace.
He asked if I would do an old-fashioned best man’s speech.
He said, “With how you are with your words I’d like to hear what you have to say. Just please include the memory when I threw the rock through your window at 3 AM because I locked my keys inside.” He was outside drunk. Alone. Happy.
While my brother was talking about the wedding I tried to stay in the moment. I’ll admit I did drift.
With everything that’s happened in the past few months, including nearly losing my wife due to an internal rupture, and internal bleeding, I drifted. I started to imagine myself at my brother’s wedding. Me going into the old systematic fold that I’ve always used when I’m around many people. No one knows. People will tell me it’s great to see me and I’ll think something along the lines of, ‘We gain too much knowledge and we die.’ I’ll shake their hand and observe how much time I think they might have left. Some people seem to have a harder time absorbing knowledge than others. They’ll ask me a direct question and I’ll answer them very quickly. And we’ll head to the bar.
A memory of our grandfather working in the garden
sitting, not kneeling, his knees were too far gone-
us running in the back yard drinking from the garden hose
helping our grandfather whenever he waved us over
Summer was swimming in the pool and holding our breath under water
while lying on our backs on the bottom of the pool-
letting the air out of our lungs slowly and watching the bubbles
rise to the surface
Us- under water, eyes open, bubble surveyors of life
with wide smiles, even our eyes smiled, without hesitation-
All the while our grandfather worked in his garden-
And when it was time to get out of the pool, our grandmother
called to us. With love, standing on the deck of the pool,
every time one of our little heads broke the surface.
The last days of summer are us waving goodbye to our grandparents
They became smaller the further away we drove
At night the cold air reminded us that Fall was coming, but-
there were still a few more hot summer days to come
along with the realization that nothing is ever really over-
and we are never truly gone even when we say goodbye
I tell Gavin I have much to show him. I pick him up and tell him I’ll show him the world. I walk him out of his room and down the hallway into the kitchen, then the living room. I open the sliding glass door. I step onto the deck. I tell Gavin, ‘This is the beginning of the entire world.’
He’s bright and happy. No more fever and all is well.
In the most serendipitous of moments time rolled on for us as though it were a wheel because we asked it to. Then it again became it’s true layered self; a figment of our imagination. We curl our lids and pray it to be.
I’m reading The Old Man and the Sea to Gavin. Generally I read to him when we put him down to sleep. Gavin enjoys talking at us with a few words only he truly understands. Megan and I feel we have learned five of them to the best of our ability. Either way, we talk back, and he makes funny faces and smiles often.
I’ve chosen an Ernest Hemingway book to be the first full book I read to him because I believe infants need to hear words. Many of them. Not just, cat, dog, and hi baby. I think they are able to stuff these brilliant sounds into their growing brains far better than we know. We humans, especially adults, love to think we know everything. Then, we look at blooming teenagers and remind them they don’t know everything. Scratch that, I will never tell a teenager they don’t know everything because it’s possible they do and it’s possible I know so little that maybe I ought not be like all the adults I believed I truly knew more than.
Anyway, we read to Gavin. The first time I opened the book I told him who Ernest Hemingway was and when he was born. I then told him he wrote many books, one of which is the book I was now going to read to him. Gavin feel asleep after the first paragraph. He’s rebounded nicely and seems to listen for much longer stretches of time before nodding off into his dream land.
Gavin- p.s. Three nurses came to visit you yesterday. Megan wanted to learn how to stretch your little body so you could grow perfectly well. We learned a few interesting things about you. The nurses did a number of tests. It turns out all of the fun facial expressions you’ve been making, and the number of words you’ve created and use are what’s considered to be advanced. I don’t care what tests say about a person. But, I thought you might like to know. One of the categories you were tested on was called expressive communication. Normal values were from 40-60. You scored a 73. They also said you’re very handsome and that we should send your picture to Gerber. So, now your mother is sending your picture to Gerber.
Isn’t it odd that our society is attaching test scores to you? You aren’t yet two months old. We’ll talk about test scores and society much more. Just remember, it’s important to be happy and to truly know yourself. Society hasn’t gotten there yet…so be careful when talking heads lean in closely to speak in your direction.
I’m rambling. I’m going to post this now and then go kiss your forehead. You’ll most likely grunt.