Lamb's Retreat For Songwriters

Birchwood Inn, Harbor Springs, Michigan —November 6-9, 2008

My Midlife Crisis Musical

These songs were written during the 14th annual Lamb's Retreat for Songwriters, Nov 6-9, 2008.  
John D. Lamb assigned each attendee a song.  This weekend's theme is called My Midlife Crisis Musical.  

Click on a songwriter to read their song assignment followed by the song they wrote at the retreat.

Wil Maring
Jim Photoglo
Joe Dolce
Chuck Brodsky
Dave Boutette
John Finan 
Luke Sayers
Dan Hazlett
Rich Marr
Judy Insley
Ken Bierschbach
Alan D. Taylor
Dennis Kingsbury
Ralph Taylor
Ben Parker
Ben Hassenger
Rodney Warner
Stephen Coates
George Karidis
Art Cameron
Bob Hemmer
Stephen Colarelli
Daniel Bracken
Stuart Campbell
Jack Maynard
Bruce Smith
Cindy McElroy
Susan Harrison
Jim Bertin
Jim Bizer
Chris MacLean
John D. Lamb


Assignment:   Wil Maring    If you left me, where would you go?  Where would you stay?   Do you plan to date?  Are you going to be like those women who would come out to see my band play downtown on Thursday nights?  Thursday nights.  That’s the night the unhappily married girls get together with their divorced friends and they go out to meet men.  They get there and they have a few drinks and they love the attention and they, they…   It’s sick.  You are my queen and I won’t have it.  Do you want to be like them?  Do you want to compete with a bunch of extreme-makeover bitches for the attentions of a bunch of hounds?  What’s that?  I am not one of them.  I am working.  My band is simply supplying the soundtrack for their primitive mating game on the dance floor.  This is how I pay the bills.  When the gig is done, we pack our equipment, I bring the van into the alley and I personally load every piece of gear, pay the guys and drive straight home to you.  There’s no one else. You are staying here.

Where Will Go When You Leave Me? by Wil Maring

chorus
Where will you go when you leave me?
Will I see your car parked all over town?
Do you think that you'll go back
To the wild side of the tracks
Where all the lonely people show?
When you leave me, honey, where will you go?

V1.
You say your mind is made.
Go on and have your fun.
Do your hair like those gals down there
And let your horses run.
But when the wolves start howlin'
And you're feelin' all alone,
Just remember when I begged you to come back home....

chorus
Where will you go when you leave me?
Will I see your car parked all over town?
Do you think that you'll go back
To the wild side of the tracks
Where all the lonely people show?
When you leave me, honey, where will you go?

v2
I know playing in a honkytonk
is not the life you chose.
I know the nights are long
When you're staying home alone.
You know that I am trying,
And I do the best I can.
You're my wife, and I hope that I'm your man....

chorus
Where will you go when you leave me?
Will I see your car parked all over town?
Do you think that you'll go back
To the wild side of the tracks
Where all the lonely people show?
When you leave me, honey, where will you go?
When you leave me, Honey, where will you go?
© 2008 Wil Maring

Assignment:    Jim Photoglo        One day last week, I drove 30 minutes to my parent’s house and put the yard away for them.  Spent a couple of hours there moving the deck furniture, covering the air conditioner, putting in storm doors, putting away the hoses, shutting off the outside water.  My dad slipped me a fifty.  I tried to turn it down but not too adamantly.  He made me take it and I gladly did.  My mom fed me some food and exclaimed, “How nice this is!  My son is here.”  It was afternoon when I went back home to get a couple hours of work done in my office.  Then I had to drive 30 minutes to pick up Anthony.  The monitor of his laptop had stopped working.  His schoolwork is on it and he really needed to get it fixed.  We drove 1 hour to get to one Apple store but he hadn’t made an appointment so they made an appointment for us at another store that was another hour away.  So we went and we got it done and I got him back to his apartment by 8 p.m.  I really wanted to get started on these song assignments that day but I ended up helping my dad and my son.  This is an example of that phase of a man’s life called “the sandwich years.”  I am sandwiched between two men, my father and my son; men who both need my help.

Man Child by Jim Photoglo
It seems my life aint workin out the way I planned

I thought by now I’d have it all

Money for spendin and beautiful women

At my beckon call

Instead I’m doing everything for everyone

I’m a father, I’m a son

(chorus)

I’m a man child feelin the squeeze

Man child I’m on my knees

Master of the in-between

Neither Prince nor King

At the hand of the Queen

I am a man child
 

My daddy starts to laughin til it gives him fits

When I go off about my boy

Cause in my youth I put him through it,

I’m glad to give the man some joy

Some days I feel I never will repay my debt

He may be old, he don’t forget

(repeat chorus)

Mother Mary rules with a velvet glove in the name of love

(repeat chorus)
© 2008 Jim Photoglo


Assignment:  Dave Boutette        I received a myspace friend request from a myspace site called:  Fuck Myspace it’s the Destruction of Art
With his friend request to me there was a note in the message box:
Hey john my name is kyle when I was in school I attended one of your song writing classes play music to
(Too is spelled t-o.  There’s no punctuation, no capital letters for either of our names)
I check out his myspace site and he has a little bio and some pictures of himself hanging all over his girlfriend.  His bio says:
Hello my name is Kyle, I’m 22 years old.  Music is a passion in my life. i Love listening/playing/and writing music. im looking to start a band if anyone is interested in starting one hit me up. I’m a very random person i do anything that comes to mind and im very different from everyone else but who isn’t now a days? Of what people say of me im very crazy and wacky. I’m very out going and and very nice person so you should get to know me :]
I wrote him a message to his inbox.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: John D. Lamb
Date: Oct 23, 2008 2:29 PM
hey man, I get a warm feeling hearing from you and anybody who may have been the least bit inspired by anything I might have done or said. Thanks for writing and saying hi. Don’t take it personal if I don’t approve you as a friend right away. You might consider me less of an artist for hesitating to okay your audacious myspace moniker. I’ll have to live with that. I wish you the best on your audacious journey. Sincerely, John
Six days later, Kyle writes back:
na it’s all good still writing and living well peace
(pause)
Am I a wuss?

Hardwood Stand by Dave Boutette

V. 1

Boys set fire to their rum at the bar

They swear to God and broken glass

The blood dries quick, leaving nothing but a scar

And tales to tell in the aftermath


I once stood with the careless and the green

We shot up the town, lined ‘em up and layed ‘em down

Now I stand somewhere in between

Where I am and where I’m bound

Chorus

When the seasons turn

The hardwood stands

When the grasses burn

The hardwood stands

Pople and pine, they twist and bend

When the air is cold

And I’m on my own

I’m gonna go

To the hardwood stand

V. 2

Love retreats like the breakers and the tide

Pushed around by the moon

In time she may be back at my side

If I’m strong enough to make some room


I can walk alone through valleys of fear

I proved that long ago with sling and stone

The wreckage I left has been made so clear

That I may not be atoned

V. 3

If I could find a way to make a home

With equal parts heart and hand

I’d set it back where the ironwood grow

And find out what it means to be a man

One night I might hear an old one crack and crash

It’ll hit the roof and bust right through

The rain will pour in and lightening will flash

But the man will be true
© 2008 Dave Boutette


Assignment:   John Finan        When did it happen?  When did I go from being Johnny to John.  I used to be the kid.  I was the young upstart.  I was the one that was all up in their faces.  I was full of it.   Full of it!  Now they’re full of it.  That feeling of entitlement that comes from knowing nothing.  That confidence you get when you’re drunken peers cheer you for being a precocious kid.  Precocious takes you only so far, baby.   Babe.  Johnny.  John.  When did I stop being precocious?  Now I’ve got to be good.  Now I’ve got to win over the sober folks in the audience.  This is getting serious, dude.  If you knew me well twenty-five years ago, you might still call me Johnny.  Mostly though, my name is John.

Call Me By My Name by John Finan

You once called me precocious,
Wise beyond my years,
Learning way too early
How to face up to my fears,
While the world in which I grew up
Was more than it appeared
To be.

You called me smart but lazy,
Obstinate but bright,
And every contradiction
That combined my wrong and right,
But never a description
Of the real man I might
Just be.

(C)
Call me by my name-
Say it like you know me,
Never be ashamed
Of feelings you can show me,
You don’t have to lie
Or play somebody’s game,
Look me in the eye
And call me by my name.

So now I’m getting older,
My chin is turning gray,
And you can’t see the difference
Between my face today
And that of the precocious child
Whose name you couldn’t say
To me.

That child is a man now,
The world is older too,
But you still cling to all the things
Familiar to you,
You see the world through younger eyes,
But they distort your view
Of me.
(C)
©2008 by John Finan

Assignment:    Luke Sayers        Some have hypothesized that another cause of the male mid-life crisis is the imminent menopause of the female partner and end of her reproductive career.  This renews the need for the man to attract younger women.  I would like to reassure my wife that I am not experiencing this need.  When and If she reaches that point in her life that having more children is out of the question, I will continue to love her and be as attracted to her from then on just as I was attracted to her when we met.  When I married her, I did so knowing in the back of my mind that she would give me good looking children.  I am a first generation Italian-American.  She is a Heinz 57 American whose family has long been on these shores.  Her ancestor arrived on the Mayflower.  Throughout our courtship, I did experience the thrill of the Anglophile.  For breeding purposes, I was excited to create children with her, children that would have smoother, less ethnic features than myself or my family.  We achieved that with two handsome young men who look less Italian than I do because they are only 50 percent so.  I want to tell my wife that I am happy with our achievement and that I need not relive it with anyone else.

I Am by Luke Sayers
I am that man
The one you wonder what to give
Cuz heʼs already rich beyond compare
I am that man
The one whoʼd go out in a blaze
In defense of this sweet life we share
-You just canʼt improve upon perfection
Every time our boys see their reflection
The mirror tells the story of their fatherʼs greatest joy
- Eyes - beautiful as they are wise
Open wide to everything
That smile - like a Roman Candleʼs flame
Always makes me want to sing
I sometimes canʼt believe I played a part
For all youʼve given me, you get my heart
I will stay to make you understand
I am that man
- I am that man
Who is guilty of mistakes
Far too many to be mentioned here
I am that man
Who has learned his lessons well
Ready to alleviate your fear
Please donʼt take my words for misdirection
You aint just my object of affection
Jack of all but nothing less the queen who stole his heart
©2008 Luke Sayers


Assignment:    Dan Hazlett        Tattoos.  I don’t know. Never really had a burning desire to get one.  Used to be just for sailors.  My wife got one at 40.  My son got one at 18.  A few years ago, it seemed like everyone was getting one…or two or three or more.  If I got a tattoo what design would it be or what would it say?  Would I do it for love?  Would I do it to draw attention to a well-defined body part?  Would I do it to attract a younger person?  It’s such a commitment, choosing a design and then to wear it forever.  In the music business, so many of my compadres had tattoos or a piercing that I thought I’d be different by having none.  Nah, not going to do it.  But if I did, let’s see, what would it be and where would I put it…?

SECRET TATTOO by Dan Hazlett

Can you draw me a picture of a heart,
darker than the backroads where young lovers go to park,
where evening breeze blows warmly like a promise of July,
and fireflies adorn the lawn, a thousand hopeful sparks?
Help me to recall when we could not be kept apart.
Can you draw me a picture of a heart?

Can you sketch me the blossom of a rose,
that opened when we first believed this passion would not fade?
Before I picked those wild flowers found on every hill,
they all grow in sun, roses love the shade.
How could I have known you'd be the only one of those?
Can you sketch me the blossom of a rose?

It's the past that forms the lines and shapes,
our dreams fill them in,
all the roads we've traveled,
drawn deeper than the skin.
The way the light falls from your face
when you turn back to me,
paints a secret tattoo
that only you can see.

Can you render an old and splintered cross?
It should look hard and heavy like the one I made you bear.
Put it on the part of me I show to you alone,
where thunder speaks in tongues and lightning splits the air.
I will carry one for every precious minute that we've lost.
Can you render an old and splintered cross?

It's the past that forms the lines and shapes,
our dreams fill them in,
all the roads we've traveled,
drawn deeper than the skin.
The way the light falls from your face
when you turn back to me,
paints a secret tattoo
that only you can see.

Can you draw me a picture of a heart?
©2008 Dan Hazlett



Assignment:    Rich Marr        On Sunday night, my wife and I watched the television show Brothers and Sisters.  Sally Field stars as the matriarch of a large family.  She has two daughters and three sons.    Her husband is dead and over the course of the last two seasons we have discovered that he had had two affairs, one of the lovers having bore a son by him 22 years ago.  Sally is angry with her husband.  These discoveries about her husband’s past life, they have caused her to reexamine all that she thought was good about the life they had led together.  At one point in the episode she has to pull the car over and run over to a hillside and scream out to her dead husband at the top of her lungs, “You never loved anyone but yourself and your penis.”  Just recently someone yelled at me, “All you care about is yourself and your retreats.”   When someone says something like that to you, it means they’re hurt.  They see me pulling away.  They see that it was all an illusion meant to occupy and entertain until it was time to go to work or go away.

Mid-Love Crisis by Rich Marr

The love of my life / is a woman I barely know
Devastating indifference / to me she shows
A misunderstanding / I can't break through
And make a love that's dyin' / suddenly feel young & alive & new

What words do I speak / there's nothing I can say
I'm surrounded by nowhere / just wanna turn away
So now I'm beggin' you / let me help you see
My love for you is the only love / that's stronger than what you think is my love for me

I've had enough of this mid-love crisis

Not communicating / nothing comes off the tongue
Inseperable once / now that's all done
So now I'm pleading / let me help you see
My love for you is the only love / that's stronger than what you think is my love for me

I'll put this pen down / I've written all I can
'Cuz I'm thinkin' about you / even more than I can stand
I may never convince you / when again I say
My love for you is the only love / that's stronger than what you think is my love for me

I've had enough of this mid-love crisis
© 2008 Rich Marr
 

Assignment:    Judy Insley        The first time I recall thinking about the concept of aging was in 1976, my first year in college, when the journalist Gail Sheehy released a book called Passages.  In this book, she invented a new way of thinking about the phases of adult life.  Sheehy argued that adulthood was not a safe harbor after the turmoil of adolescence, but a series of developmental stages and tasks.  The crisis or passage was a necessary element of the spiritual journey into self-knowledge and renewal: ''If you want to grow, you must be willing to change.''  Sheehy described the life cycle in terms of decades. People were no longer children, teen-agers or grown-ups; there were subcategories too: 20-somethings, 30-somethings. And people were also members of distinct generations -- the boomers, the Vietnam War generation, the Me generation.  Gail Sheehy is now 68.  She has penned many books.  In her new one, Sex and the Seasoned Woman: Pursuing the Passionate Life, she reports on the emergence of a new phenomenon among middle-aged boomer women. Traveling across the country Sheehy spoke with women from their 40s to their 90s about sex after 50, midlife dating, new dreams, divorce, remarriage, spiritual growth, and seeking ways to live more passionately in the second half of their lives.  I get the feeling Ms. Sheehy likes to get people all stirred up about themselves so she can sell more books.

BLOWIN’ AWAY
Words and Music
By
Judy Insley
(Lamb’s Retreat 2008)


Daylight has come again
Whispers of time begin
I hear your voice and I call your name
Searching for answers in a sea of change
What leads me here away from home?

Released the life I’d known
Cut ties that made me old
I am the falcon who has spread her wings
I am the golden leaf upon the wind
One thing is sure: I’m Blowin’ Away

[CHORUS:]
I’m Blowin’ Away
Who’s to say if I’m broken or blessed
Blowin’ Away
Wherever I come to rest
I’m just Blowin’ Away
© 2008 Judy Insley





Assignment:    Ken Bierschbach        My wife does not like my new beard.  Well, she liked it at first.  When I came home with it after 10 days on the road this summer I thought for sure she was going to laugh in my face.  But she actually, genuinely seemed to admire it.  She said I could keep it for a while and she’d try to get used to it.  One day, though, we’re in a big fight about some girl who liked me and that I was being friendly to and I let it slip out that the girl liked my beard.  The fight was reaching a crescendo when my wife said, “If you love me you’ll shave right now!”  I went right into the bathroom and I took it off.  My face was smooth and she was manageable, happier.   For a while.  Well, I started getting all these photos sent to me from various gigs I did all summer and I saw this look I had that was kind of mature, kind of a brave coming out and coming to grips with my grey.  So I started to grow it back a couple of weeks ago and my wife hates it.  All she can think is that I’m growing it back for that girl.  I am not.  That girl is long gone.  But I’m a rebel, see, and I’ll decide when I’m going to grow it and when I’m going to shave it.

Clean Shaven by Ken Bierschbach

My wife does not like my new beard; she says that it makes me look weird

She tried to abide it and not to deride it; but I’ll let her take it from here:
 

I like you clean shaven, now look what you’ve done         

You went and you gave in, for some girl in a club

If you love me you’ll lose it, if you don’t you’ll lose me    

So do what is right ‘cause I always win, eventually
 

You think you’re a rebel, oh so brave and mature

But I know that you’re really just lost and unsure

You know you can’t fool me with all your big talk

I can’t be much clearer go look in a mirror and shave that thing off
 

I can see that you’re anxious, ‘bout this new phase you’re in

But the world can be thankless, get that crap off your chin
 

I tried not to get too perturbed; I thought this is truly absurd

Hair grows many places, like arms, legs AND faces

But I’ll let her have the last word:
 

I like you clean shaven, nothing more can be said

You know I’m not playin,’ those whiskers I dread

If you love me you’ll lose them, if you don’t you’ll lose me

So do what is right ‘cause I always win, eventually

So do what is right ‘cause I always win, eventually
© 2008 Ken Bierschbach

Assignment:   Alan D. Taylor        Before I discovered Saw Palmetto and Bee Pollen it was taking me longer to pee.    And it used to take me longer to stop the pee from dripping.  It would take longer to start, longer to go and longer to stop.  That first pee of the day, I found myself just going into the bathroom and sitting on the toilet.  A man is supposed to stand.  But here I was, sitting down to pee like a girl.  No way was I ready to get used to this.  I asked around.  I did some research.  I experimented with different vitamins.  I found the ones that work for me.  I take the vitamins morning and night and now my flow is good.  No more pulling my shirttail out or walking around with my guitar strapped on just so I can cover the wet spot in the crotch of my jeans.  This morning I heard my teenage son get out of bed and walk into the bathroom.  Then I heard him pee.  He was aiming for right smack in the middle of the water in the bowl.  It sounded like a got-damned fire hose.

The Secret by Alan D. Taylor (A la Spaghetti Western)
       Am        /           C            /
There is a fear that grown men have of which they seldom speak
  Am              /                C             /
It rattles the most self-assured when it’s time to take a leak
   Am                G        F               E7
But I have found a secret to put my mind at ease
     F            C          E7                   Am
An herb called Saw Palmetto and Pollen – from the Bees
        Am               /            C              /
When men mature they’d like to think life’s challenges they’ll master
Am                 /            C         /
And we know that as we age time seemingly moves faster
    Am                G                   F               E7
Except for when we’re standing, or worse, seated on the throne
F                C               E7               Am
Time stands still as if we’ve dropped into – the Twilight zone
      F              C
Yipee – I – O  it’s time to go
           Dm          E7
Yipee – I – E  I’ve got to pee
F                  C
Yipee – I – O - yipee – I – E
            E7                                           Am
Saw Palmetto and Bee Pollen set me free

        Am          /            C               /
That same old piece of plumbing through which my sons were sired
Am            /              C               /
Would act like a leaky pipe or a spigot that’s expired
Am        G                F                E7
When thirsty I was forced to change my guzzling to sipping
F               C           E7                    Am
‘til Bee Pollen and Saw Palmetto stopped – my pee from dripping
       Am           /        C        /
One day while walking to my desk down the office aisle
     Am                /          C                   /
Co-workers would look over and suddenly they’d smile
Am           G           F                        E7
Imagine my embarrassment, I thought they were my friends
         F                C               E7                 Am
Next day I found upon my desk a new – box of depends.
 
      F              C
Yipee – I – O  it’s time to go
           Dm       E7
Yipee – I – E  I’ve got to pee
F                  C
Yipee – I – O - yipee – I – E
            E7                                           Am
Saw Palmetto and Bee Pollen set me free

    F             Am
I don’t know how the stuff works
           F        Am
It will fix my faulty shooter
     F        Am
Like swarms of tiny bees with saws
       E7           Am
An herbal rotor rooter.

  Am                 /                     C             /
I noticed just this morning when my son first arose
Am              /            C           /
Springing from the bathroom bowl, sounds like a fire hose
   Am              G          F            E7
I doubt he will appreciate the gratifying flow
      F          C              E7            Am
Until the day I have to share the secret –  that I know

       Am         /                   C        /
Bee Pollen in the morning; Saw Palmetto every night
         Am          /            C                    /
Does wonders for my self-esteem and keeps my blue jeans dry
   Am             G               F              E7
I stand up tall with confidence and great security
F           C              E7          Am
And thank the Lord for vitamins each time – I take a pee.

      F               C
Yipee – I – O  it’s time to go
           Dm         E7
Yipee – I – E  I’ve got to pee
F                  C
Yipee – I – O - yipee – I – E
            E7                                           Am
Saw Palmetto and Bee Pollen set me free
© 2008 Alan D. Taylor

Assignment:    Dennis Kingsbury        I got my first AARP card in the mail a couple of weeks ago.  It only costs about $12.50 a year to join.  I guess I’d be eligible for lots of discounts at various restaurants and such.  But I threw the card away, quick like.  I didn’t want to have it sitting around staring at me from my desk.  I didn’t want to read about its benefits.  Do you think some movie clerk is going to believe this is really mine?  Don’t send me one when I’m sixty, neither.  What does it feel like, Dennis, to be over sixty and to watch how ridiculous I am trying to sound like some hotshot 50-year-old buck?

Old Friends by Dennis Kingsbury

[C] Let me tell you ‘bout a [G] guy I know
His [F] name is Steve, this was [Am] long [Am/G] ago
We both went to the same high school
_ We bummed around like a couple of fools
I tried to be good… but all for naught
Steve broke the rules, I got caught

Chorus

[C] Oooooooold [G] friends… [Am] my favorite [F] kind
[C] Every time we [G] get together
We [Am] talk(cry) about women,
[F] talk(cry) about the weather
We [C] talk about the old mill and the
[G] jobs they’re cuttin’
[Am] Sometimes we even [F] talk about nuttin’
We [C] lose our hair, [G] lose our mind no
[Am] end, to the things we [F] leave behind
[C] Oooooooold [G] friends… [F] my [G] favorite [C] kind

I met a man just the other day
He was crying about his age crying about his pay
Forty nine years old as a matter of fact
I can barely recall when I was young like that
Him and the old lady… fuss and shout she’d say
_ I’ll give you something to cry about

(chorus)

Bridge:
[Am Me and the missus [G] out for a ride
[F] one of us crabs, [Am] one of us [Am/G] drives
[Am] where we goin'? [G] dog gone it
this is the [F] bridge to nowhere and
[Am] we’ all [Am/G] on it
(chorus)
© 2008 Dennis Kingsbury


 
Assignment:   Ralph Taylor        My midlife crisis is a boring subject.  Actually, I’m not sure that I’m having one.  I believe that I’m not having one.  My people tell me I’m in denial.  They think that I should seek professional help because I have behavior issues.  These issues that they speak of, oh, I’ve always had them.  I’m surprised that my wife and close friends are just waking up to my issues..  Maybe it’s their crisis I’m dealing with.  Maybe I’ve been home too much, lately.  They’ve got more time to analyze me.  I’d prefer a little peace, really. Not a fan of all this drama. Really.

Southern Man by Ralph Taylor

Somethins goin on   that I just cant explain
I bought a motorcycle   and I jumped out of a plane
People think Im crazy   but Im sane as I can be
Im just a middle aged southern man   tryin to be free

My friends say im different,  Im actin kind of weird
Puttin on those house concerts   and growin out a beard
Songs must be sung   and music is the key
Im just a middle aged southern man   tryin to be free

Well you can have your diamond rings and drive your fancy car 
Id rather drink Budweiser beer and play my old guitar
You cant take it with ya when you reach eternity
So Ill just do the best I can and make sweet memories

I have got the best life,   and I don’t mean to boast
With my friends and my family,   Im happier than most
If you can call me crazy,   Ill have to disagree
Im just a middle aged southern man   tryin to be free
Im just a middle aged southern man   tryin to be free
Im just a middle aged southern man   tryin to be free
© 2008 Ralph Taylor

Assignment:   Ben Parker        Did my dad have a mid-life crisis?  Let’s think back.  There was that time he bought a purple Lincoln Continental Towne Car back in the 70s.  It looked like what you might call a pimp-mobile.   He bought it used from a coworker at the Ford plant.  Now that I think of it, the guy he bought it from might have been a pimp.  I got to drive it on a few dates in high school.  We lived in a nice suburb.  Everyone in our neighborhood drove conservative looking vehicles.  This purple Lincoln really stood out.  I didn’t give it much thought at the time but I wonder now what the neighbors thought about it.  An aside:  Across the street from me lived an only child.  I’d see him getting driven to school by his mom but I never remember speaking with him.  He was a real shut in.  I don’t know of anybody in our neighborhood that ever spoke with him.  That kid’s name is Al Jean and he grew up to be one of the creators and producers of The Simpsons.  I haven’t seen all of the episodes so I don’t know if there ever was an episode about Homer or a neighbor buying an inappropriately gaudy vehicle.

Pimp Mobile by Ben Parker - Lamb’s Retreat November 2008
All the neighbors thought that Dad had been drinkin
when he pulled up in that new- used Lincoln,
He had always admired the Town Car commercials
but momma flipped out…..the damn thing was purple!

He’d bought it off a dude-p’robly done something wrong
and needed quick cash --so it sold for a song
None of that mattered in dad’s way of thinkin
As long he was drivin that “kick-ass” Lincoln.

It had a hot-rodded –bored out-- four fifty five
with headers and glass packs and stripes on the side
six inch white walls and with stadium speakers
it was a hell of ride for a Sunday school teacher
just a hell of a ride for a Sunday school teacher

So with the music turned up and the rag top down
we turned every head as we rode thru town
Momma kept sayin……. “this ain’t a bit funny”
but daddy just grinned like he was made of money
but daddy just grinned like he was made of money

Chorus.
It was a hopped-up redneck bon-a-fide Pimp mobile
Power to spare- wind in your hair, music thumping – make ‘em stop and stare

But there was no other feeling like slidin in behind the wheel
Of that hopped -up red neck bon-a-fied Pimp mobile

And then one day Dad threw me the keys
said “take her out son -- just keep an eye on your speed”
So I pulled out of the drive in our new-used Ford
thinkin “ dad was a genius- I’ll never be bored”

I adjusted my shades in the rear view mirror
as my girlfriend Debbie cozied up near
I could see my old man—watchin this show
grinning inside thinkin “go man go!”
he was grinning inside thinkin “go man go”

Chorus
It was a hopped- up, red neck bon-a-fied pimp mobile
Power to spare- wind in your hair, music thumping – make em stop and stare

But there was no other feeling like slidin in behind the wheel
Of that hopped up -red neck bonafied pimp mobile

(Slower……)

The old cars still at moms house –as odd as that seems
She could never let go of his final big dream
After college we parked it way in the back
and waited for someday - for time to turn back
We all waited for someday for time to turn back

Now I think I know what dad had been thinkin
pushin on fifty and buying that Lincoln
tryin to hang on to spontaneous youth
denying the years and the oncoming truth.

I think I’m starring down the same narrowing road
I’m me inside but just a little too old
I’m me inside Just a little too old


My mom cracked a smile the day we came over
with a truck full of tools and started the motor.
We pulled her out -just like old times
and for all of us -the old dream came alive
My wife did’nt get it – she thought I’d been drinkin
when we start restoring that convertible Lincoln

Chorus

It was a hopped up---red neck—bon-a-fied pimp mobile
Power to spare- wind in your hair, music thumping – make em stop and stare

But there was no other feeling like slidin in behind the wheel
Of that hopped up -red neck--- bonafied pimp mobile

It was a hopped up --red neck-- bonafied Pimp mobile.
© 2008 Ben Parker


Assignment:  Ben Hassenger        Rhymes with passenger.  The Passenger would make a great title for a song.  It could be the title cut of my next CD.  I usually drive, but recently, I found myself the passenger in my son’s automobile.  The car is technically, still mine.  When I drove it, it was spotless.  My son is sixteen and he’s been driving the car for about half a year and it hasn’t been cleaned once.  I know that he wants to impress me with how good a driver he’s become but all I can do is focus on the messy interior.  Cigarette butts overflow the ashtray, empty cans and bottles are strewn about the backseat. Candy wrappers, condom wrappers (?) and high school progress reports litter the floor.  Hey, those progress reports, he was supposed to show them to me.   He’s driving all confident and fiddling with his stereo system.  I asked him to turn it down, please.  I wanted to say something.  I wanted to rant,  “This is how you treat my car!  I paid for this car and I pay your automobile insurance! Don’t you have any pride?  What does your girlfriend think of this mess? “  He wanted to play me some tunes on his iPod.   He had rigged the iPod up to the car’s sound system.  He wanted to me to feel the power of the subwoofers he installed.   He wanted to show off to his papa.  I don’t want to make the driver nervous.  I want to be a buddy to my son.  I want to be a pleasant passenger.  I told him to turn up the tunes.

Let’s Ride by Ben Hassenger

It wasn't long ago           
You were strapped tight       
Into that booster seat       
Just to my right           
We drove to school, to the playground   
And the baseball game           
Bert and Ernie over and over       
Stuck inside my brain           

I took you and your girlfriend to the dance
When you were just 14
Check the rear view mirror every now and then
On the two of you in the back seat
And sometimes we'd just go driving
Turn the radio up to ten
Listen to the Stones and Who
We won't get fooled again
 
Come on       
Let's ride                       
I've got the wheel           
We can drive               
Wherever we feel           
We will find               
Just what this road reveals   
We're alive               
Let's ride                   

First you got your permit
And then you got the real thing
I gave you the keys to the old Impala
You thought you were the king
I didn't sleep for weeks
Sittin by the phone
Every night it was a little later and later
When you came home

You really trashed that car
It used to be so nice
Filled with wrappers, butts, and bottles
I think I saw some mice
I washed it every once in a while
Since you never did
I found some girls panties in the back seat
Here's looking at you kid

Come on       
Let's ride                       
You got the wheel           
You can drive               
Wherever you feel           
We will find               
What the road reveals       
We're alive               
Let's ride                   
 
Sometimes you'll get lost       
Sometimes you'll be found   
Sometimes you find yourself in the ditch    
Sometimes on higher ground   
Every road is a lesson       
Something new at every turn   
Get in that seat and buckle up 
See what you can learn          

I got in a little accident           
Just a week ago               
That tree jumped out in front of me   
My reflexes were slow           
The doctor said at 81           
Your driving days are past       
Park the car turn in those keys       
You're going downhill fast       

So I'm looking out my window
The world is passing me by
I wish that I could start
That old car and drive
Then I hear the horn honk
It's you and my little girls
It’s looking sweet from the passengers seat
We're going round the world

Come on       
Let's ride                       
You got the wheel           
You can drive               
Wherever you feel           
We will find               
What the road reveals       
We're alive               
Let's ride   
© 2008 Ben Hassenger



Assignment:   Rodney Warner        An individual experiencing a mid-life crisis may exhibit a behavior called conspicuous consumption.  This might include the acquisition of unusual or expensive items such as clothing, sports cars, jewellery, gadgets, tattoos, piercings, motorbikes, etc.  I like gadgets. Gadgets are cool.  Like, James Bond, he had a lot of cool gadgets.  Gadgets made by Q, the gadget guy.  I dig my Palm Treo.  It does a lot of stuff and holds so much info.  I can check my mail and take photos and access over 2000 contacts stored in this little device.  Everytime I get the least bit antsy about what to do next, I take out my phone and check my various email accounts, my myspace, my facebook, my text messages, my webpages.  Some folks have Blackberries and some have iPhones.  I’m happy with my Treo.  But I wonder, is there a gadget that can do more?  In my twenties, all I needed to be happy was some decent weed and a good paperback book, like one of the series of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels.  Those books were thin enough to fit in my backpocket. Now, I’m wondering, is there a gadget that I could buy that will make my life ever more thrilling?

POCKET ROCKET by Rod Warner and Stephen Coates

I was 16 and you were 10
Said I’d never look back again
Once I left this God forsaken town

I left that mountain and didn’t look back
Lord I jumped all across the map
Little Brother, don’t you stick around

You stayed with Mama as long as you could
But finally you got out of the woods
And built yourself a pretty damn good life

It took a while but you finally got there
Through the ups and downs, living everywhere
You got a family, and a beautiful wife

You got a rocket in your pocket
You can fly it to the moon
But do you really wanna go there – too soon

You bought that boat and a brand new car
Got a new suit and a hot guitar
Remember, the king died on his throne

I know it’s been nearly 15 years
But let me make this one thing clear
Little Brother, all you need is you!
 
You got a rocket in your pocket
You can fly it to the moon
But do you really wanna go there – too soon

You got a rocket in your pocket
You can fly it to the moon
But do you really wanna go there – too soon
© 2008 Warner-Coates

Assignment: Stephen Coates    In a recent crossword puzzle I came across a clue.  The clue was written as follows: “Bemused phrase said after your favorite childhood movie turns 25, maybe.”  The answer contained nine letters and, as it turns out, four words.  It wasn’t fair to do that.  After all, it’s a crossword puzzle, not a crosswords puzzle.  Plus, it’s a phrase that I never say, or maybe I refuse to say, or maybe I’ve thought it but would never dare voice it.  Do you know what the answer is?  I’ll tell you what the author of this puzzle says after reminiscing about Star Wars – Return of the Jedi, or Flashdance or Stayin’ Alive, or Risky Business or Terms of Endearment.  I had to look up this answer because I just couldn’t get it.  The answer was, “I feel so old.”

I Love by Rod Warner and Stephen Coates

I love this bar
It’s got an old black and white TV up in the corner way too far
And a juke box over by the door full of 45 stars
Oh man, do I love this bar

I love this car
It’s got an old 8 track and boy does she drive like a barge
It doesn’t get enough mileage cause the engines way to large
Oh man, do I love this car

    I never wanted to be younger than I am today
    You can take a look back, but can’t change anything anyway
    Now I’m pushing 50 and got a belly made of beer
    I never wanted to be younger, than I am right here

I love these jeans
They’re faded, jaded, and there torn on the knee
With a ragged mess down on the floor where the hem used to be
Oh man, do I love these jeans

And I love trains
They took my heros like Woody and Townes out across the plains
Today, you know it’s just not the same
Oh man, do I love trains

    I never wanted to be younger than I am today
    You can take a look back, but can’t change anything anyway
    Now I’m pushing 50 and got a belly made of beer
    I never wanted to be younger, than I am right here
© 2008 Warner-Coates


Assignment:  George Karidis          I want my wife to drive the nice car so folks can see we’re prospering.  I drive the oldest car, a van.  She drives the newest one, a sport utility that I picked out for her.  Some guys I know, guys my age, are buying a sporty car.  When I see them in their Porsches or Vettes, I think of them as a little sad.  Are they trying to attract women?  I think to myself, of what possible use is a fast little car like that to me?  Who even guns the gas pedal anymore?  If I want to go out and feel sporty, I ask my wife if she minds me taking her Mountaineer.  She says, sure, leave me some gas.  It’s a pretty nice car but sometimes I wish I had gotten her the 8 cylinder rather than the six-cylinder.  It could use just a little more power.  A little more pizzazz.  Hmm, let’s see, I could trade this in and get her a different car.  What shall I get her next?

Our Cars by George Karidis
Verse 1
I drive the old van in the family.
With a little help, it still works.
My bride takes the cross-over SUV
for the kids and for church.
Prechorus
I picked it out for her, a couple ’a years ago.
It’s got a nice design – it’s one the neighbors know.
CHORUS
Are these our cars?
It’s funny how they talk so loud.
Are these our cars –
or who we are?
Verse 1
Next door a Viper greets the family
as an H3 meets the used lot.
That coupe fills a certain fantasy –
they all agree that it’s hot.
Prechorus
It’s got acceleration at a hundred twenty three.
I hear it’s fun to turn – at over one g.
CHORUS
Bridge
Saturdays, my wife takes the van.
I drive around wherever I can.
(interlude)
Now and then, I’ll pass a Prius up.
The “six” has power – maybe not enough.
Prechorus
Next time I choose her ride, it won’t have that ag’in.
It’ll have dual turbos – and a classier VIN.
CHORUS
W/M by George Karidis © 2008


Assignment:    John D. Lamb    Assignment from Joe Dolce:
Once I joined a lesbian only chat room and told everyone I was a 50 year old lesbian from Australia.  During the next couple of months I became friends with a woman from Turkey named SAPPHO.  She told me she was 40 years old and we had a lot in common….  After about 6 months I began to feel guilty about lying to SAPPHO so I told her I was really a heterosexual man.  She said that she knew I wasn’t a woman but thought I was probably a transsexual.  She then confided to me that she wasn’t really 40 but 19 years old!

Someone Else by John D. Lamb  11-8-08

And now you know, I’m only a man
Not the woman - you think I am
I’ve been lying - about myself
After all this time I’m someone else

When first I wrote - I was trying to be
Not so lonely, you couldn’t see
That I’d been lying - about myself
After all this time I was someone else

Someone, someone else I can be
So that I can be
Someone, someone else

You tell me, - you’re lonely, too
You didn’t care, you always knew
But I’m not buying; it’s all a mess
You’re still hoping I’m someone else

Someone, someone else I can be
So that I can be
Someone, someone else

And now we know, - the truth is told
I’m not so young; you’re not that old
But I keep trying - to fool myself
Just to be with someone else

Someone, someone else I can be
So that I can be

Someone, someone else I can be
So that I can be with you
© 2008 John D. Lamb

Assignment:   Art Cameron        This girl says I would look really cool in cowboy boots.  I said, “I used to wear cowboy boots on the stage.”  She said, “You really need to buy some cowboy boots.”  I said that I used to wear them but I started getting backaches.  I mean they look cool but I discovered comfortable shoes.  She says,  “Screw comfort! Don’t you think you would look cool in cowboy boots?”  I said I used to have some real cool ones that were worn in just right but someone stole them out of my van along with my amplifiers and speakers.  She says,  “You really need some boots.”  I said I’d think about maybe getting some Harley boots before I got pointy-toed cowboy boots.  But I don’t ride a motorbike and I don’t ride a horse so I feel it’s kind of dandy-ish for me to wear boots.  She says,  “You would rock with cowboy boots.  Don’t you want to rock?”  I said I’d think about it.

This Old Rebel by Art Cameron
 
I don’t try to dress like a cool dude
I wear flannel shirts and comfortable shoes
The older I get the less I care
I’m a practical guy – I still got my hair
 
Chorus
   I’m just a wrinkled aging hippie
   an old rebel through and through
   I don’t need to be no millionaire
   I need my good woman – and I need my hair
 
I love my mama and she loves me
she loves my flannel shirts and she patches my jeans
no she don’t care just what I wear
she love’s me and she loves my hair
 
we get my flannel shirts from the volunteers
they rarely cost more than a dollar
they’re soft and warm, and so high class
even buttons here on the collar

Chorus
   just a wrinkled aging hippie
   still a rebel – conform is not my style
   and I don’t need to be no millionaire
   I need my good woman - please don’t let me lose my hair
 
I wear old blue jeans well past their prime
they’re my old friends – they’re me oh mine
worn-out pockets and holes in the knee 
I ask my honey – won’t you patch them - please
 
they’re practical
they’re comfortable
so sensible
you can’t dress me up but you can take me out
 
Chorus
 
I don’t wear no fancy shirts
and I don’t wear no tailor suits
I choke and gag when wearing ties
and you won’t see me in cowboy boots
 
I love my mama and she loves me
she loves my flannel and she loves my jeans
she really don’t care just what I wear
she love’s me and she loves my hair
 Chorus
  © 2008 Art Cameron

Assignment:   Bob Hemmer            From Wikipedia:  Midlife crisis is a term used in Western societies to describe a period of dramatic self-doubt that is felt by some individuals in the "middle years" of life, as a result of sensing the passing of youth and the imminence of old age. Sometimes, transitions experienced in these years, such as aging in general, menopause, the death of parents, or children leaving home, can trigger such a crisis. The result may be a desire to make significant changes in core aspects of day to day life or situation, such as in career, marriage, or romantic relationships…  Some studies indicate that some cultures may be more sensitive to this phenomenon than others. One study found that there is little evidence that people undergo midlife crises in Japanese and Indian cultures, raising the question of whether a midlife crises is mainly a cultural construct. The authors hypothesized that the "culture of youth" in Western societies accounts for the popularity of the midlife crisis concept there.  I’m an American baby boomer and there’s supposed to be a whole bunch of us out there.  I ought to have no problem socializing with people my own age.  But, you know something, I’ve been thinking a lot lately, that a trip to India might be a very cool thing to do.

Maybe India Will Do by Bob Hemmer

I sat down & had a drink
It helps me not to think
Why I look so old

All those younger years
That shined like chandeliers
They’re dimming now

Chorus
I set out one time, on a journey in my prime
When I was half this age
No I never made the flight, so I need to make things right
I’m leaving here today

All those misty nights
When there was no wrong or right
They seem so long ago

Just one big regret
Haven’t made that journey yet
Maybe India will do

Chorus

And as I recall
We played music through it all
Like we ruled the world

I’d give anything
(Just) To have the heart to sing
That same old song again

Chorus
Copyright Basement Bob Music 2008

Assignment:    Joe Dolce    I was a good student in high school.  I sang in choir and I acted in all of the school plays.  I always worked, too.  I made pizzas and I bagged groceries at the supermarket.  I wanted to go away to college.  My parents couldn’t afford to send me.  I applied for financial aid and grants.  I sold marijuana to my friends.  Back then, if you got caught with some pot, the cops would make you throw it in the wind and send you home.  I saved my money and I paid for my college education.  After Reagan and Bush, things changed but I still serviced my friends.  That’s what I thought I was doing.  I provided a service.  I used the money to fund my rock band and pay bills.  I got in trouble in 1995.  My sentencing date was a couple of weeks before my first retreat.  I could have gone to jail for 3 months but I received probation and the retreat went on.  My sons didn’t know about this part of my history.  I got away with stuff for so long without getting caught but my sons, luckily, are not so lucky.  How much of what we do is in our DNA?  I have strange thoughts.  My father’s father had 11 children and was a famous carouser who loved food and wine.  My mother’s father was a fortune hunter in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia during World War 2.  Could there be a gene in my bloodline that hurls us towards questionable schemes and flawed judgment?  Am I responsible for the actions of my sons?  How long will they have to pay for the sins of their father?

Streak Untamed by Joe Dolce

Verse 1:

I was a real good student in my old high school.
I even sang in the choir and I acted the fool.
    I worked hard in a pizza joint,
    Man, I really rolled some dough,
    I sold the herb to all my friends,
    And I’m not talking about oregano.

Chorus:
    My father’s father was a born carouser,
    Who loved his wine and food.
    My mother’s father was a fortune hunter,
    During World War II.
    I’ve chased some dreams,
    And some questionable schemes,
    And now I see it in my son,
    Am I to blame
    For his streak untamed
    Have I just passed it on?

Verse2:

I paid my way all through my college days.
I grinned at Reagan and Bush in a stoned-out haze.
    I got busted, put on probation,
    Most of the time, I didn’t get caught,
    But will my kids be half as lucky,
    Or have to pay for the things I bought?

Chorus:
    My father’s father was a born carouser,
    Who loved his wine and food.
    My mother’s father was a fortune hunter,
    During World War II.
    I’ve chased some dreams,
    And some questionable schemes,
    And now I see it in my son,
    Am I to blame
    For his streak untamed
    Have I just passed it on?

Bridge:
        Is this streak untamed,
        A biological genetic thing,
        In my DNA string?

        Is the streak untamed,
        An inherited rebel voice,
        Or do I have a choice?

Chorus:
    My father’s father was a born carouser,
    Who loved his wine and food.
    My mother’s father was a fortune hunter,
    During World War II.
    I’ve chased some dreams,
    And some questionable schemes,
    And now I see it in my son,
    Am I to blame
    For his streak untamed
    Have I just passed it on?
Lyrics & Music: Joe Dolce
© Dolceamore Music 2008


Assignment:    Stephen Colarelli        We live across the street from our neighborhood park.  We moved into our house 25 years ago.  When we moved in, no families had kids.  The neighborhood was in that transition stage when the kids who had grown up there had moved away and most of the residents were empty nesters.  I used to be the only one who used the playground and swing sets.  Then we had kids and so did a bunch of other young folks who moved in.   Forest Hills was alive.  Everyone aged and the kids grew.  My oldest, Anthony, moved out this summer and now lives in a nearby apartment.  I reclaimed his bedroom for my office.  My 16 year old, Daniel, lives in the basement and my wife and I have basically the whole house to ourselves again, just like when we moved in.   We have made friends with couples in their 30s.  They bring their Labrador over to meet our Labrador.  Two couples have had babies in the last year.  They bring them over often.  My wife holds them and beams as if she is their closest aunt.  Sometimes I will hold one briefly but hand it back to momma when the baby starts to fuss.  The baby will hide its face in its momma’s chest for a moment and then sneak peaks back at me, its face changing from consternation to a faint amused curiosity.

A Daddy Again

Words and Music by Stephen M. Colarelli

The seasons go around in the in the neighborhood
Children run where old men stood
Every few years it starts all over again

A little girl jumps into her daddy’s arms
Coming home after he’s been gone
Ah…that’s somewhere I’ve been

Chorus

I wish I could be
I wish I could be
I wish I could be…a daddy again

You’ve been dying your hair for the past few years
The baby next door brings a tear
We’ve been through it, were bruised, but we’re still here

But sometimes I think about going away
Starting fresh on a brand new day
When I see her look at me that way

Chorus

I wish I could be
I wish I could be
I wish I could be…a daddy again
A daddy again
Copyright Stephen M. Colarelli 2008


Assignment:    Daniel Bracken        Men face the nameless psychological malaise that women faced in the 1960's. They live longer -- an average of 73 years -- but without a plan for filling up the second half of life. Men still see their main identity as that of breadwinner, although most now share that responsibility with women. More and more, men are changing jobs and taking time out to raise children or to rethink their lives. Men fear the loss of sexual prowess, and male menopause is the ''unmentionable . . . unspeakable'' passage. They are uncertain of the definition of masculinity.  Men notoriously don't like to ask directions, discuss their problems, ''read books about their health or stop to re-examine where they have been in the journey of their lives.'' David Mamet says, ''What men need is men's approval,'' and maybe they're afraid they won't get it by trying to understand their passages.  Men are more stressed by emotion than women they have to stonewall or withdraw from intimate discussion as an innate defense mechanism. Another psychologist goes so far as to say that ''it may be more desirable biologically for women to get issues aired and settled and for men to avoid them.'' Dan, I know you’d like me to change the subject.  But I’m wondering, when will women stop telling us that we’re afraid to stop and ask directions?

Show Me the Way by Dan Bracken

I’m looking for the signposts but they all have blown away
I’m searching in the darkness for the slightest hint of day
This map I have is useless and the satellites have fallen from their place.
 
I’m looking for the North Star but the skies are never clear
The compass just keeps spinning while the breadcrumbs disappear
And this path just seems to circle and the destination never becomes near
 Chorus
Show me the way
I’m ready to stop for directions home
Life is flying by and
It is no good for me to be alone.
Maybe we can find a place of rest, where our hopes, and our dreams survive
We all need someone to love
Someone who cares, who is on our side
 
When I was a young man I knew I knew the way
The father to my children, and I mostly did ok
Now I’m somewhere in the second half, of my role in this amazing play
 
The pendulum is swinging am I strong or am I weak
Sometimes metal armor, sometimes my heart upon my sleeve
Is my foundation holding, or have I built my house upon the sand
 
Chorus
©2008 Daniel
Bracken

Assignment:    Stuart Campbell        I am older than the President of the United States of America.  For the first time in my life, I am older than the President of America.  If I was to meet him, how would I act?  Would I act older than him?  Would I try to act the same age as him?  Would I have some advice for him based on the extra number of years I have lived on this earth?  I could say to the President, “I am older than you and you should listen to me and defer to me.”  I could say that.   But I won’t.   I want to.   I don’t want to cause any trouble but, get this, I am older than the President. 

Younger Than Me Now by Stuart Campbell

Its been a hard year, for our nation and the world
I've found myself unhappy by the way our flags unfurled
Now the old guard is stepping down, and change is in the air
Its time to pass the torch along, if we'll only dare

My fathers generation is now falling into dust
Its politics of fear wont gain the younger peoples trust
Corporations, greedy, sucking wealth from the middle class
Its time for us old timers, to get up off our ass

So I went to cast my vote today, to bring about the change
To put a youngster in the Whitehouse, I'll tell you that felt strange
Why should we trust this kid, with the weapons & the power?
We may not have a choice in this, were in the final hour
Anyway…. nearly everyone is younger than me now

Nearly everyone is younger than me now
I'm not clear how it happens, but it works that way some how
The giant oak gives way to the little sprout
Nearly everyone is younger than me now

I found myself thinking, what advice I might divulge
To the man we put in office, if I might just be so bold
And it came on down to a few choice words that I've written in this song
Advice is cheap, I know that’s true, but this time I'm not wrong

Keep your friends around you, know your enemies
Always tell the truth, trust us if you please
And on those days you find yourself, with no where else to turn
Look for someone ripe in years, and see what you can learn
Cause, nearly everyone is younger than them now…..

Nearly everyone is younger than them now
I'm not clear how it happens, but it works that way some how
The giant oak gives way to the little sprout
Nearly everyone is younger than them now

Talking with my son today, about the things we did
I told him that I'm sorry, to be leaving it to him
But I'm not gone yet from this earth, and I hope that you can see
There's some wisdom way down deep inside, of old guys just like me
Even though…. nearly everyone is younger than us now

Nearly everyone is younger than us now
I'm not clear how it happens, but it works that way some how
The giant oak gives way to the little sprout
Nearly everyone is younger than us now

Repeat chorus - Tag - The president is younger than us now…
© Stuart Campbell (November 2008)


Assignment:    Jack Maynard        The first half of life, First Adulthood, is about crafting a 'false self' -- a front tailored to please or to pass -- that is useful in earning approval, rewards and recognition from the adult world. But Second Adulthood, from about 40 to 70, is a whole new ball game. It is a time when ''there are a number of different scoreboards -- as son, mate, father, friend, colleague, mentor, community wise man, benefactor.   Men can succeed in Second Adulthood, even reach an Age of Mastery, only if they move ''from competing to connecting'' and aim for redirection rather than retirement.  I can dig it.  Yeah, I don’t feel this big need to compete all of the time.  Sure, it feels good to connect with people.  Yeah, like when I connect with a younger fella, it feels good, like maybe I’m giving him some good advice and he’s going to thank me for it down the line.  But, you know, I don’t want this young guy to think that I’m not his competition.

IT’S ABOUT CONNECTION by Jack G. Maynard Jr.

It’s about connection and sharing my heart
A new direction now’s the time to start
I’m going to reach out to everyone I know
I don’t need approval and I’m letting it go
Welcome to my new life

Maybe it’s the age or maybe it’s the time
The way to survival the sure life line
For love in my life and the joy I need
Connection the place for me to succeed

It’s about connection pass it on down
Life changing decision to solid ground
Now is the time for me to give back
Quit moaning and complaining about the things I lack
I like my new attitude

In my life I’m leaving some room
Leave the door open to others real soon
Be a friend to listen and help you to find
Connection to the chain of love anytime

It’s about connection the name of the game
Made my intention for courage to change
A lot more trust, a little less doubt
Connection is the key to working life out
Pave the way to happiness

I’m connected with the world and down the road I go
NO,NO, I’m connected with YOU and down the road WE go.
Yeah, It’s about connection, about connection
© 2008 Jack G. Maynard Jr.


 Assignment:   Bruce Smith        Hairstyle.  Kept it short for years.  The Mr. Mom years.  Those were the years of attending parent teacher conferences, Cub Scout meetings, and catechism meetings for communion and confirmation.  Had to deal with other parents, the parents of my children’s classmates.   Didn’t want to deal with giving off the impression I was a subversive sort.  Didn’t want other parents to not let their kids hang with my kids because they thought I was weird.  The kids are big now.  We don’t have to attend any more school events.  Don’t have to meet any more parents or teachers.  I can be who I was before I had school-age kids.  I can grow my hair.  I can grow my hair and I don’t have to shave my face if I don’t want to.  I see young guys with their dark beards and I think it makes me feel like some women my age might feel when they see a younger woman radiantly pregnant.

My Ponytail by Bruce Smith                                  

When I was a young man, my hair was long and shaggy
I wore it in a ponytail; my jeans were torn and baggy
Eventually I met a girl who filled my heart with life.
She made me oh so happy when she said she’d be my wife.

We were married in the springtime; my hair was long and blond.
And when another spring came by, a baby came along.
A few more years and it was time for him to go to school
And I realized my ponytail, it was no longer cool.

 (Chorus)
So I chopped it off and coiffed it right, and this is my confession
I did it not to look nice, but to make a good impression.
Parents and the teachers just might think that I was weird
I did it for my children; hell I even shaved my beard.

Now the years have flown on by, the kids have grown and gone
And once again the time has come to grow it extra long.
I love the hippy-dippy look; I think it gives me strength.
Just like that old Samson when his hair had extra length
And another part of me feels like it’s got some extra length.

Now I known how women feel, they just can’t keep it hid.
When they see a younger woman who’s about to have a kid.
Guys have different issues; see it’s all about the hair.
And when you’re finally old enough, nobody really cares.

(Chorus)
So I chopped it off and coiffed it right, and this is my confession
I did it not to look nice, but to make a good impression.
Parents and the teachers just might think that I was weird
I did it for my children; hell I even shaved my beard
(Alt) I did ‘cuz my wife made me, I felt like I’d been sheared.

Some of you might think that hair only just symbolical
But don’t you see, that I am free to shorten up my follicles
As I approach my sunset years, I just don’t give a damn
As long as I don’t end up looking like that John D… (Lamb)
© 2008 Bruce Smith

Assignment:   Cindy McElroy    My wife has these hot flashes.  They seem to happen when I walk into the room.  She’ll be fine, I walk in and the next thing I know, she’s whipping off layers of clothing and fanning herself with the nearest available magazine.  She claims it’s not me that’s the cause of these disturbances but I’m not so sure.  I’m beginning to get a complex.  I’m beginning to think that psychosomatically she finds my aura disagreeable.  Dogs, they say, can sense bad vibes in a human.  My wife sometimes has uncanny clairvoyant dreams that predict when I am involved in or am about to partake in mischief.  If I behave myself and cleanse my soul, will her hot flashes cease?

HOTFLASH! for john lamb by cindy mcelroy  nov. 2008    capo 6  start Dm

I understand being misunderstood
Trust me I’ve been there, impish and good
Know how it feels to misinterpret the view
Yeah baby, walk this way, walk a mile in my shoes

Maybe I’m incorrect in saying, “I’m Hot!”
Know it’s misleading but it isn’t a plot.
Given your timing of just waltzing right in,
When I’m red in the face and I’m peeled to the skin!

    It’s just a Hot flash!  Now give me a sec!
           A Hot flash! Ya know, I’ll just be a wreck, for a minute or two!
    It’s just a Hot flash! It’s a hundred and two!
           A Hot flash! I have enough for me and you, for a year or two!

Don’t let your conscience act as your negotiation.
I see it in your face, a glance a hesitation
Guilt doesn’t wear well, it can be misunderstood
Dogs smell it! Any canine would!

Now just remember when you catch me in meltdown
Try on some tenderness, instead of a frown!
Don’t be so paranoid, cause I can’t read your mind!
Just be a good boy, everything will be fine!

    It’s just a Hot flash!  Now give me a sec!
           A Hot flash! Ya know, I’ll just be a wreck, for a minute or two!
    It’s just a Hot flash! It’s a hundred and two!
           A Hot flash! I have enough for me and you, for a year or two!

Bridge: Bm D A

Now honey listen, this is just an observation
I don’t need implants you don’t need an augmentation
Don’t get me wrong,  this isn’t all about you,
Cause guess what, baby, I’m 50 too!!

    It’s just a Hot flash!  Now give me a sec!
           A Hot flash! Ya know, I’ll just be a wreck, for a minute or two!
    It’s just a Hot flash! It’s a hundred and two!
           A Hot flash! I have enough for me and you, for a year or two!

        Hot flash!!!!!!!!
© 2008 Cindy McElroy


Assignment:    Susan Harrison    When we were in our 20s and we were dating, I found your mother very attractive.  I had sort of a crush on her.  I had a feeling that you might end up looking like her.  And that was one of the good reasons I had to marry you.  Now here we are.  We are the same age as your parents were when you and I started dating.  And you are.  You are even more beautiful than your mother ever was.  This is what I hoped for and this is what I’ve got.  And, like your father, who is still married to your mother, I am not going to let anybody else have you.  I saw your potential.  I have waited this long to realize it.  It wasn’t my mother I was waiting for.  It was yours.

I Love Women     by Susan Harrison          
I love women guess I always did. I’ve loved women ever since I was a little kid.
Beauty you just can’t disguise, I can see it with my own two eyes. 
Oh, I love women. I do,   
so I must love you, and I do, love you.
When I met your mother, I could clearly see    
I wanted to sprout branches on your family tree.  
Oh the way your mom looked at your dad    
that’s something I wanted bad.
Help me make that fantasy come true.
 Adore me baby, like older women do.
(Such a good boy, that Johnny.  Have a canolli or some ravioli. Help yourself, and so handsome).
I love women guess I always did. I’ve loved women ever since I was a little kid.  
Beauty you just can’t disguise, I can see it with my own two eyes. 
I love woman still, guess I always will.
Here I am the big 5-0, still wanting to be the little bad boy.
 And you you’ve aged just fine, like some vintage bottle of exotic wine.     
As we continue our history    
let’s keep some of the mystery.    
You’ve grown into the woman I knew you’d be. 
The day I met you’re mom in ’83.
I love women guess I always did. I’ve loved women ever since I was a little kid.  
Beauty you just can’t disguise, I can see it with my own two eyes.
 I love women, I do.
 So, adore me like most women do.
Indulge me like your Mom…………..would want you to.
 © 2008 Susan Harrison

Assignment:    Chuck Brodsky    My wife accompanied me on a date to see you perform last Saturday night at a house concert in Bloomfield Hills.  We sat through two sets of your songs and we sat close to each other and we touched each other when you sang something touching.  It was a rare date.  It was something I wanted her to do with me.  She accompanied me and she could sense that I was genuinely pleased to have her with me.  It was a new day for me.  The beginning of a new way from me.  She was giving me another chance and we had a nice date.  We were driving home from your concert and we were holding hands and my cell phone was vibrating in my pocket.  I answered it because I knew that I no longer had anything to hide.  It was a police officer asking if I was the father of Daniel, our 16-year-old.  I didn’t tell you this, Chuck, but Daniel got busted for marijuana that night while you were singing.  I had to drive to the jail and bail him out.  Before I left to get him, my wife and I embraced fiercely and she cried.  She said to me that she was already leaning towards staying with me but now she was sure that we must stay together and work together to help our sons.

Untitled By Chuck Brodsky

No one ever wins a fight
Or can ever be completely right
Even if they do insist
Raise their voice or clench their fist
Always trying to slay the beast
We ought to try to keep the peace
No one ever wins a fight               
Or can ever be completely right             
 
I take back every unkind word
Even the ones you never heard
I’d shove them all back down my throat
Along with all the sour notes
I might’ve sung when I was mad
All mixed up or just plain sad
What I really mean to say       
Sometimes comes out a different way
I take back every unkind word
Even the ones you never heard
   
When I think of it I kiss this ring
And I forgive you everything
However big, however small
Would you forgive me, spots and all?
Would you forgive me all my faults
And not address my wounds with salt?
When I think of it I kiss this ring
And I forgive you everything
 © 2008 Chuck Brodsky

Assignment:  Jim Bertin        Recent developments will make it harder for us to reach the Age of Mastery.  We now have access to certain magic bullets, Propecia for baldness, Prozac for depression and Viagra for impotence. Viagra has taken off faster than any drug in the past three decades. Bob Guccione, the publisher of Penthouse, thinks that the drug ''will free the American male libido'' from the emasculating effects of feminism. We are warned that a lot of sexual problems relate to poor relationships or poor self-esteem or anxiety and depression. But for a lot of men, anxiety, depression and low self-esteem accompanied by an erection may seem better than all this risky self-examination and stressful intimacy. Women may not feel the same elation about these magic chemicals, for men may choose not to end with an Age of Mastery but with frisky winter, swinging with new hair, young wives and renewed sexual drive.  Shall I forego any and all of the magic bullets so that I may naturally reach the Age of Mastery?

“Viagra”
By Jim Bertin (November 2008)

It’ time to listen to me, I’ve as story to tell
Bout this stuff called Viagra that we know so well!
I ain’t no whiner cause it happened to me
This stuff works great just check it and see.

For a long time now I’ve been losing my hair
But this one man is tough to share
Was having hard-times trouble if you know what I mean
A major malfunction of my loving machine.

Was just last Tuesday got some pretty bad news
A trip to the doctor got me singing the blues
I said “I have a situation don’t like it one bit,
Seems my Mr. Happy just up and quit”.

He said, “there’s nothing to worry, don’t let it hurt your pride
We’ll put a plan together, going to take it in stride.
Cause you came to me on this I must advise ya
We got some pretty cool stuff from a company called Phieza.”

“They’re small, they’re blue, take one,….two!
You’ll see a big difference that sure is true
You’re in the right place if you aim to please
No more complaints just try some of these!”

“You better listen up.  Can’t warn you enough!
No fooling around This is pretty strong stuff!
Before you take em be sure things are straight
Tween you and your lady or you’ll be your own date!”

“What’s this shit about growing old
The parts wearing out, fire going cold?”
He said, “wake up man before they come and bag ya
Have a little more fun, try some of this Viagra!”
© 2008 Jim Bertin

Assignment:    Jim Bizer        I still have to gig to pay the bills.  There are some busy times and there are some slow times.  It’s good when I don’t have to look for work and the gigs come my way.  Sometimes, though, I have to take gigs I wouldn’t choose if had a choice.  I don’t enjoy singing at sports bars.  The managers and the customers are often half my age.  I can do some of their requests but, more and more, I am stumped by the song titles that are written on the napkins sent up to the stage.  These are the kind of bars that have 50 flat screen TVs in full view of anywhere you might be sitting.  You are singing on the stage and all you can see is football, basketball, ultimate fighting and Cops chasing down another pathetic criminal.  Making eye contact with your audience is nearly impossible and takes a lot of effort and nerve.  I always leave with a headache and I rarely get invited to return for another engagement.   Maybe they sense that I didn’t enjoy myself.  Maybe they didn’t really enjoy me.  Maybe I should have socialized with the bartenders more, spent some money, bought a round for the regulars.  I hated the gig and I just spent my breaks checking my messages on my phone.  I didn’t want to do the gig and it’s not a heartbreaker they don’t want me back.  But it bugs me a little.

I BEEN

Words and music by
JIM BIZER

I been thinking
I been wondering
Somehow it’s not quite clear
just where it was I was going
and how I wound up here

I been to Georgia
I been to Carolina
and I been in my mind
Come along if you dare and I’ll take you where
the sun don’t never shine

Wasted away, hiding ‘hind the rainbow’s wall
Spending too much time up on that dry levee
I’m a picker, grinner and a joker
Two-pack-a-day secondhand smoker
That is, if I ain’t dead already

There’s a haze
in these dimly lit skies
as I watch the glaze come slowly over your eyes
Funny how time flies
while you’re watching other peoples’ lives go slipping by

Once I had a dream
but right now it seems
impossible I could have been so naive
Stand before this drunken crowd
Turn myself up loud
and make believe that I still believe

I been thinking
while you’re sitting here drinking
of taking this show right off the road
But before I drop my load
there’s just one more truth I have to face
Could it be that I have grown accustomed to this place?
©1996/2008  James Bizer

Assignment: Chris MacLean        David Foster Wallace, writer of the novel Infinite Jest and many other acclaimed works of fiction and nonfiction, hung himself at the age of 46 on September 12, 2008.  Although he had suffered depression for twenty years, he managed to be productive with the aid of the anti-depressant medication Nardil.  Last year he began trying to wean himself off of Nardil.  He received other treatments including electroconvulsive shock therapy.  He attempted returning to Nardil without success in the months preceding his death but his depression became severe.  Years back, while attending Harvard University, Wallace’ anxieties had reached a point where he felt suicidal.  He was sent to Mclean Psychiatric Hospital, an acclaimed hospital that had also housed the likes of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.  Years later he met Elizabeth Wurtzel, author of the depression memoir, Prozac Nation.  She said that he walked her home from a restaurant and tried to talk his way up to her apartment.  It charmed Wurtzel.  She said, “You know, he might have had this enormous brain, but at the end of the day, he was still a guy.”    Wurtzel recalls that Wallace, “… was very interested in purity, the idea of authenticity- the way some people are into the idea of being cool.  He had keeping it real down to a science.”  Wallace wrote to her:  “I go through a loop in which I notice all the ways I am self-centered and careerist and not true to standards and values that transcend my own petty interests, and feel like I’m not one of the good ones.  But then I countenance the fact that at least here I am worrying about it, noticing all the ways I fall short of integrity, and I imagine that maybe people without any integrity at all don’t notice or worry about it; so then I feel better about myself.  It’s all very confusing.  I think I’m very honest and candid, but I’m also proud of how honest and candid I am – so where does that put me?”

Nightbird
by Chris MacLean
Except for a chair tipped on its side, the patio was bare that night
When she came home and found him.
His was a cancer of the soul, an immense dark hole he was lost in
No hope of it ever changing.
In his eyes, she watched the curtains draw, the fire dying
On a perfect night, under indigo and stars, he wrote....
A demon that wore his face, for years and years it chased him
Demoralized and disgraced him.
He was a bird, drawn to the night, all innocence, purity and light
But none of that (ever) could have saved him.
In his eyes, she watched the curtains draw, the fire dying
On a perfect night, under indigo and stars, he wrote.... (Goodbye)

Godspeed on your way
Godspeed on your way
Nothing to shame you
No one to blame you
Walk a mile in those shoes, no way
Godspeed on your way
Godspeed on your way
 Godspeed on your way.
© 2008 Chris MacLean

 






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