Uncle John’s Log & Co.

Hey, look, I probably get a buzz seeing famous people as much as the average guy, but I take absolutely no interest in celebrities just because they happen to qualify for the description. On the other hand, I really do like the stars I respect, especially if my admiration for them is rooted in the “silver age” of television, and I’d probably step on my Yorkie to shake the hand of Peter Graves.

When I learned that Johnny Crawford was coming back to Danville, I knew I had to meet him and experience his current style of entertainment. Like Kurt Russell and Ron Howard, he was a child star who kept himself on the rails, and he went forward to do an impressive range of cool things in his life as an artist, athlete, and entrepreneur. Most of all, he held true to his earliest passion—music.

If Dana didn’t fully appreciate how much I was looking forward to hearing Johnny’s vintage dance band, it was because I tried my best to avoid behaving like a groupie beforehand, but I think she understood when I dug out one of Dadbo’s old bow ties and taught myself how to tie it. It’s been quite awhile since the two of us had a nice picture taken, so I was tickled when Joan and Caitlan agreed to document our night out. Thanks, ladies!

The extra time for pictures cost us the opportunity to pick out a choice table at the Playhouse indoor theater, but I managed to discover an empty love seat near the stage. It was a fine spot to watch Crawford re-enact the period manners of a band leader from the 1920s and 1930s. We were treated to a superb group of musicians hired locally to become his vintage orchestra for the evening, including Miles Osland, Dave Henderson, and Rick Cook. Watching Crawford’s seat-of-the-pants coordination was a delight, and the entire effect was a testament to the sheer professionalism of everyone on stage. On top of that, the “CD Release Party” aspect seemed to put the star of the show in a heightened mood, and his vocals and repartee at the microphone were thoroughly entertaining. I think Dana would agree the only way it could have been more enjoyable is if I’d spent less time with the bow tie and a bit more with remembering how to do the fox trot. Maybe next time; I hope he’s invited back for an encore performance.

Years ago, when I fell in love with Danville’s brass band festival, I gained a new, profound regard for the quality of American band music from the mid nineteenth century to the era of The Great War. I also came to understand how much work it takes to resurrect all of the instrumentation to recreate a period sound. This summer, Johnny Crawford shared with our community the same preservationist spirit, and it makes me think he may be emerging as one of the country’s most important historians of our popular music, salvaging lost orchestrations and discarded arrangements of favorite dance tunes from that unique period between two World Wars. As David McCullough reminds us, Americans from a different period of our history were less similar to us than we like to believe. They lived differently, and they thought differently. It was the age of radio. Everyone aspired to be a musician, if they didn’t already sing or play an instrument. All popular music was music meant for dancing, and if people didn’t go out to dance, they probably were at a motion picture to watch others dance. There was a spirit in America that observers such as David Gelernter have told us is all but lost. Well, perhaps so, but not if Johnny Crawford has anything to say about it.

Don’t go ’round moping, hoping happiness will come.
That’s not the way; it doesn’t pay.
If you want happiness, help yourself to some.
Why don’t you try to take life the way I do:

Let the whole world sigh or cry,
I’ll be high in the sky,
Up on top of a rainbow,
Sweeping the clouds away.

I don’t care what’s down below.
Let it rain or let it snow.
I’ll be up on a rainbow,
Sweeping the clouds away.

I have learned life’s lesson: fighters who always win
Are those who can take it right on the chin—and grin.

So I shout to everyone:
“Find your place in the sun,
Up on top of a rainbow,
Sweeping the clouds away!”

Before the month is over, I’m extending my personal Black History studies to include some outstanding African-American women.

During this month I’m attempting to learn more about the African-American men that I revere most. It goes without saying, but aren’t Wikipedia and Google something else? I can’t imagine what it would be like as a young student, having at my disposal these remarkable tools!

Gruntled Center tells us there’s more to the commonly understood 50-50 failure rate for marriages than a simple coin toss. Most first marriages survive, but the divorce rate for second marriages is closer to 60%. Also interesting is the finding that second marriages which make it through the first two years successfully have the same divorce rate as first marriages.

My question is this— Is ours a first or second marriage?

I’m no social scientist, but I would think that it has to be classified as both, and the success or failure of the union would be applied to both first- and second-marriage statistics.

Nevertheless, on an individual level—just like your state of health—statistics and probabilities are virtually meaningless. Whether Bruce ends his marriage or whether my buddy Mike’s
impending third marriage is a success has to do with who they are and the type of partner they’ve chosen. And, in terms of health, no matter how dire the probabilities associated with any particular prognosis, there’s somebody out there who licked just about every disease or malady ever known to strike the human organism. There are even stories of people surviving falls from airplanes, skyscrapers, and mountains.

Perfect. Now I’ve fully prepared myself to go buy my first Powerball ticket.

Sunday’s gathering at Mack’s cabin was cancelled due to weather, so we didn’t get to hear the invited speaker—an evolutionist who is also a devout Catholic. Indirectly related to that, I discovered that Deepak Chopra posted his views on the debate between Intelligent Design and Evolution at intentBlog.

The responses to his opinion are not surprising. For some, it solidifies their regard for his keen ability to articulate emerging concepts that integrate science and religion. For others, it just reinforces their attitude that he’s one of the more popular con artists on the new-age scene.

This subject holds some interest for me, but, like the debate over abortion, the endless argumentation rarely moves beyond tedium. The fixed mindsets of the energetic allow little room for moderate viewpoints.

It looks like this is polygamy week at Gruntled Center.

Not interested?

Trust me—when Beau Weston zeroes in on something, it’s nothing else but damn interesting.