As a birthday gift, I took my wife to the Collin Raye and Lonestar Christmas and Hits concert on Saturday. It was a fun night. Our first concert was Collin Raye at a state fair when we were dating. So, it was cool to see him again in concert after 29 years.
Collin Raye is 65 years old. His voice is the same, his personality, too. But we all grow old. Collin Raye had some fun with that truth. He shared a story about injuring his knee. He joked that he needed to catch his breath after singing “That’s My Story”.
But the energy and joy was tangible as he performed. His voice took us back in time, yet brought joy to the moment. As is my nature I thought of a few things about art, about creativity, and about life.
First was the powerful force art is. In this case music, but in my life poetry and stories and these blog posts. Overall the night was joyful and energetic, but also reflective when Collin Raye sang some of the more spiritual Christmas songs.
I hope my words have that effect on readers. To make them think, to be moved toward the emotions and reflections I try to express in my words.
Second was that AI can not match human creation and expression. Yes, I think it can help an artist reach their creative goal, but that’s the point. Art is human based. It is a reflection of our souls, or hearts, or views of this life. AI can not do that. I think we have a ways to go before we find the balance between technology and human creative importance, but I trust in the power and need for us to express the meaning of this world through our chosen art.
Lastly, this life is a moment. We get to choose the moments, the content, the meaning of it. The whole concert was a wonderful time, filled with funny moments: the keyboard player for Lonestar received a few drinks from a couple in the front row. It was a ‘had to be there’ moment. The Christmas songs reminded all of us of the upcoming holiday and what it should be about.
And seeing Collin Raye perform at age 65 without reservations was an inspiration for me.
Here is one of the songs Collin Raye performed at the first concert. This song has always stuck with me.
I got to interview one of my favorite musical artists, Chris Glover, on an episode of The Creative Moment podcast (YouTube video below). He is now known as Penguin Prison, but I have been a fan of his from the beginning of his career. So, it was an honor to get to talk with him for the podcast.
But now… I am jealous of him.
At about the 27 minute mark in the video I ask Chris what is his main drive as an artist, what was his WHY for creating music. I totally understood his answer. Chris said “I basically can’t do anything else.”
Chris didn’t mean he didn’t have the skills to do anything else, he expanded on the answer talking about how life would be easier with a normal job, but that wasn’t him. Chris is a musician, a creative person. This is what he does.
Chris is living out his life through his music. That’s why I am jealous. To live life by surrendering to my writing would be incredible. But that is the central battle of many artists, especially ones like me that have built families and careers. I have written about this balancing act before (“It is hard to reach your goals“). And make no mistake I would not give up any aspect of my life as a husband and father to be a famous poet / writer.
Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous of Chris though, and I believe his music reflects that surrender to his music. You can feel the joy and authentic energy in his songs. It is one of the reasons I am a fan. His music is not like any other musician’s.
I am jealous, but I am also inspired by Chris Glover. Even more so after getting the opportunity to talk with him. I am inspired to write the poetry, the blog, the stories only I can write.
In fact, the chorus of Chris’ first ever single “Stand on Your Seat” makes more sense to me now:
I have a routine on the weekend when I spend time in my classroom grading. I grab some CDs to listen to as I grade. I pick an album or two, usually an artist I haven’t listened to in awhile. But I always pick two of my mixed CDs. Some of them are titled, like “The 107 Mix”. (Don’t ask how I come up with titles.) But others are not labeled, they sit in their paper sleeve like a musical gift for me to listen to.
Last Sunday I listened to the soundtrack for Reality Bites and the album Vertigo by Billie Myers. I had two mixed CDs. One of them was purple, part of the cool colors line of CDs from Memorex. The other was a plain silver CD with no title. I had a lot of grading to do last weekend. (I actually didn’t get home until 11:30 that night.)
I don’t actually remember when I decided to open the musical gift of the purple mixed CD, but when the first song started, I teared up.
When I worked at Centura I had a group of colleagues that loved sharing music with each other. We even made our “Top 10 Songs of All Time” mixed CDs that we shared with each other. Even now, I will snap a picture of the car radio when one of their songs is playing and text it to them.
The purple CD was not a top ten CD (those were in the slim plastic case and had an insert with the song title and artist listed). This CD was a mix of blues music Mr. Monter had made just for me. This was also part of the friendship in the group. Making CD mixes we thought someone would like.
The opening notes of B.B. King’s “All Over Again” hit me with a wave of joy and sadness. Mr. Monter was my principal at Centura. He passed away over 10 years ago. Yes, I have blogged about Mr. Monter before. I miss him.
But I have a purple CD with a range of blues music that he made for me. OK, I have a number of mixed CDs, but I listened to this one as I graded essays last Sunday. I thought about our golf outings. I thought about my other friends. I thought about how life gives us incredible moments. I thought about how important it was to have a physical artifact of our friendship. (Yes, I got grading done.)
Maybe I am just getting old, but lately I’ve found myself stepping away from the digital aspects of my life. Some people may have noticed on X, I don’t know. But there is magic in the physical world that I can not experience in the digital world. Yes, a song on Spotify can bring back memories, but to be surprised and hold a physical representation of a friendship brings a depth of joy I can feel in my hands and my heart. There is nothing artificial in that moment. Nothing temporary or forgotten after scrolling.
By the way, I wrote a title for the purple CD on the sleeve, “Remembering a Friend”.
We leave the house at around 6:25 a.m. during the week. We arrive at school around 6:50 a.m. Today I counted the cars that passed me going the other way. Heading in a different direction. There were 87 cars.
At least 87 people drove past me on my left, heading to work, maybe home, maybe starting their vacation. I don’t know. I don’t even know if there were more people because it is dark at 6:30 in the morning.
What I know for sure is that there are 87 people living out their stories right now. Are those happy stories? Is someone feeling broken-hearted? Did someone start a new job today?
It is easy to get caught up in our lives, the small plot line we create. I can’t tell you how many times I have driven this route to school (OK I can because I blogged about it: From Home to School). But I never really considered all the stories happening around me, until today.
Until I counted the cars passing me going the other way. There are 87 stories that I have not heard, but I hope they are doing well today.
I wonder how many of those 87 cars I’ll pass again tomorrow morning…
This morning we had day-old Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast. We packed our suitcases and got checked out of the hotel in time for church at 9:30. We saved a seat for my son and his wife, my new daughter-in-law, of less than 24 hours.
We spent the weekend rehearsing, celebrating, and witnessing one of love’s milestones. As the father of the groom, I didn’t have a ton of responsibilities. We catered the rehearsal dinner which was held at the church. My hair takes like 30 seconds to get ready… now, my wife and daughters? Well, that started at 9 in the morning Saturday for a 2 o’clock wedding. So for those who know me, yes, I had time to think, to reflect on the deeper aspects of this weekend.
Social Media
For the most part, I put my phone away. I took some pictures, but my wife is better at that aspect of our life. I did interact a little on X and Instagram, but mostly I enjoyed the weekend. I did not post a single thing on social media about the weekend. I was letting other individuals do that. I was just present, and it was joyful. We talked, we went and got coffee, we sat by the firepit at the hotel. (My daughters and I did witness a guy riding a bicycle crash into the closed gate where we were sitting, but that is another story.)
At the reception we danced and enjoyed the dinner.
But what I really noticed was the emotions we all expressed. The genuine feelings, the tears, the laughter, the expression of living without worrying about getting the right angle for a photo, or hurrying to post a reaction. I was in the moment, and it was a beautiful moment.
Family
There were two different moments that highlighted what it means to be family. If you’re new to my blog you will need to read some past blogs to understand my complex story. I am not going to spend time covering that.
The first moment happened after the rehearsal dinner. My future daughter-in-law was carrying a tote bag with “Mrs. Boelhower” printed on the side in script lettering. When I asked about it, her face lit up with a smile. She explained it was a gift and asked if we liked it (my wife and daughters were with me). One of my daughters piped up and said, “Wow, now there are two Mrs. Boelhowers!”
We all laughed but it got me thinking…
Hold on, let me connect another moment.
The reception hall was filled with family and friends. My daughter and I were taking a break from dancing. I sat next to my ‘adopted’ dad (again, if you’re new to my blog you’ll have to catch up on the backstory) and chatted about life. My wife’s side of the family was strong in numbers, and so was my daughter-in-law’s. But there were only 9 Boelhowers. And one of those just joined our clan.
A weird mix of pride, sorrow, and resolve washed over me. I was the patriarch of this small family tree that was slowly growing strong roots. As my son danced with his new wife, I had to catch my breath because I saw, as they danced, that all the pain I endured, all the hardships I went through, the sometimes spirit-breaking decisions I made, was worth it. I had a family, I was providing, as best as I could, a life for my children that I never had.
Family is not just blood. It is choices, it is commitment, it is love given and received. My daughter-in-law will be loved just like my own children. And I will continue to nurture this little family tree to take root in a life filled with love.
It is all Connected
No, not this blog. But the idea behind the title of this blog. Sometimes it takes decades to see how two dots connect. During the church service the priest was talking about this idea, and he mentioned that he did not know every parishioners’ story that brought them to the church today, but he imagined they all had their own hardships and celebrations. But they were here now.
During the reception, I was aware of how important the moment was when my ‘adopted’ father said I could live with him and his family when I was sixteen. There was a direct line from that moment to the wedding. The story between the dots is fascinating, filled with heartache and joy, like any story. But without the opportunity he gave me, we would not be sitting together laughing and talking about life.
It is hard to have what I call The Long View. A term I use in the classroom to help my students see that their actions today will impact where they are in the future, what opportunities they will have. But when looking back (and I think we should, to appreciate the journey) we see the path, we see the benchmarks of how life brought us to today.
And we can smile, breathe in the joy, and see how it is all connected… and this weekend proved that the best connections are built with love.
Faithful readers know that on Sunday we make blueberry muffins for breakfast. That almost didn’t happen today.
First a little backstory. Yesterday (Saturday) my wife’s sister hosted a couple’s shower for my oldest son and his fiancee. It was a good day of fellowship with family and friends. And there was a fantastic brunch; two types of breakfast casserole, biscuits and gravy, homemade cinnamon rolls, and a variety of fruit. One of the trays was decorated with pieces of pineapple and watermelon hearts on skewers.
Of course there were leftovers. We came home with a small pan of breakfast casserole, biscuits and gravy, and a dozen cinnamon rolls. (My wife’s family always makes enough that you take home some leftovers!)
Last night as my wife and I talked about the day and the plan for breakfast on Sunday, the idea of just using the leftovers was a tempting option. But in my head I thought, ‘but it is Sunday, we make muffins and scrambled eggs and sausage.’ Plus, all our children would be at breakfast. That hasn’t happened in a long time.
I said that we should make our traditional blueberry muffin breakfast. My wife agreed. So, we got up early to make the muffins, but we still warmed up the breakfast casserole. A few of the kids added a cinnamon roll to their plates. And the morning was filled with laughter and conversation. We were a full family at the table.
Now, I understand that offering just the leftovers would have been fine. But blueberry muffins are a tradition. And sometimes, you have to work at keeping traditions. It is one of the ironies of life, how easy it is to do the easy thing and break traditions, or good habits you have fostered.
Our daily life is filled with moments that challenge us to choose an easy option, or an option that takes a little more work or energy, but has a better payoff and builds stronger bonds. Or, in our case continue a tradition that is central to our family. Blueberry muffins on Sunday morning.
I would like to talk about Stephen Curry for a moment. One, because he is my daughter’s favorite player. Two, to make a deep thoughtful parallel to life.
The following video is of Stephen Curry’s pregame routine on January 22, 2023. During this routine he made 122 shots from 184 attempts. I did miss a few shots because of the camera angle at times.
Golden State lost the game that night to Brookyln, 120 – 116. Curry went 7-16 on field goals, 4-8 for three’s and 8-8 on the free throw line. Stephen Curry took 32 shots for the game.
Here is Stephen Curry’s season totals (FG, 3pt, and free throws) 559-1133, 273-639, and 257-281. For a total of 2,053 attempts. That’s a lot of shots.
But he attempted 14,760 shots during his pregame warm-ups for the season!
I am not even considering his practices for the season, or the work Stephen Curry put in during the off season.
I could have used Kevin Garnett (my favorite player), or Kobe Bryant, or any professional athlete in any sport to highlight how much work they put in for games, or events. Consider how much work Usain Bolt put in just to run 9.58 seconds.
What’s the connection to life?
Life gives us big moments. Sometimes they are tragic, a death or car accident. Sometimes they are joyful, graduations or fulfilling a goal. How we handle the big moments is dependent on the work we do in our everyday life.
That work is different from shooting a basketball, but just as important. The work involves building and maintaining relationships. Spending the time we are given each day in ways that bring us joy. The work can be in working in our soul to heal wounds. The work is living a life filled with love and purpose that reflects our hearts.
The big moments will come… how we handle them is centered on all the work we do during the ordinary days. And the ordinary days are how we measure the quality of our lives.
For the last couple of months, I have been untying my shoes when I take them off. Yes, that means I have to tie them when I put them on.
Yesterday I spent almost an hour trying to find the right word for a poem. A single word. I was working with meaning and syllable count for that word, but still, I spent time finding the right word.
My screen time is down almost 15%.
Over the last 11 weeks my steps have jumped up over 3,000 more steps a day.
I’ve heard the quote, “How you do one thing is how you do everything,” used in movies and TV shows lately.
Each day we have 24 hours. Everyone.
How we use it is the fundamental factor to the quality of our lives. Even when bad things happen, or unexpected challenges, it is our responsibility to decide how we deal with the time we are given.
I have decided to untie my shoes when I take them off.
On day three of the PAD challenge Robert asked us to write a short poem. Nothing longer than 10 lines. Now, there are quite a number of short poetic forms, Robert provided a few in the overview of the prompt for the day. Creating a poem in a few lines, and with the presented rules of a particular form can stretch one’s creative mind.
Throughout the month I wrote some short poems because of how the prompt inspired me. For day three I specifically wanted to use a poetic form. Without any idea for the poem, I decided to write a Shadorma. I like this poetic form (you can expand the poem by making stanzas from the guidelines).
But I had no theme or prompt word to go with it. So, I had a different hurdle to overcome. Here is the poem I wrote that day. I will discuss how I got the idea afterwards.
My heart is
a candle whose flame –
surrounded
by darkness –
jumps and sparks trying to keep
the light from fading.
Writing in poetic forms has a built-in challenge. Meshing my ideas within the rules of a form can take days, even weeks for me to accomplish. Throw in a short poetic form, and write it in a day for the PAD challenge and I sat there drinking my coffee with my head spinning.
With or without a poetic form, short poetry is not easy. The theme and intensity of an idea has to come through in just a few words or lines. And it has to hit the reader, hard. At least I think it does. Short poetry should be like drinking a shot, full flavor that then sits warm in the reader’s mind.
The idea for this poem started with the candle that sat on our island. We tend to keep a candle on the island that we light at the end of the day. Just a part of our family routine. I noticed the burnt wick, dark and frayed. Then, I started to consider how bad the year had been. I then considered the sayings about a single light against the darkness. In my mind I saw a candle in the middle of darkness, how small the light was. I thought about how fast the darkness would be complete if the fire on the wick sputtered and went out.
I had my idea.
I used my lunch period to work through the poem. I started with the metaphor, “My heart is a candle…” I actually had to work line 3 and 4 through a few different versions. These lines are only three syllables long. I wanted the tension of the darkness surrounding the flame to come through, to have that tone of sadness to hit and stay throughout the poem.
Here is where punctuation makes a difference in the poem. I could have used commas. But the emdash created the tone I wanted for the weight of the darkness. I then continued with the imagery of the flame that was fighting to stay alive.
Writing this poem encompassed the importance of punctuation, the challenge of short poetry, and how everyday objects, the candle on the island, can be the spark for inspiration. I think the poem also reinforces the power of writing in a poetic form, it can make you really delve into word choice, theme, and expression that you might not normally do.
Let me know what you think of the poem, or of any of the ideas I discuss in this post. Share your thoughts in the comment section.
I have coached football for almost 30 years. When I teach how to tackle, I teach the player to focus their eyes on the opposing players hips. To keep their head up. They should never see the grass of the field.
I was a running back. I was taught to read my offensive linemen’s numbers. To follow their lead.
I have coached basketball. When a player is dribbling, I instruct them to have their eyes up, never look at the ball.
I have coached every event in track and field. I was a jumper in high school and college. I never looked at the board when jumping. I coach my athletes not to look at the board because the body goes where the eyes go.
But in life, there is another part of ourselves that goes with where the eyes go… that is our heart.
This is important to consider, especially at this moment in our culture. Our eyes are practically glued to screens. As a dad I see parents just sit on a park bench as their child plays. I see it in the hallways of school. I battle everyday to get students to put their phones away. You can see people looking at their phones as they drive.
The heart goes where the eyes go. Just the fact of being locked onto the screen shows what matters to someone. Parents ignore their children, students don’t talk to anyone, people don’t even know when the light changes.
I believe that our actions show what we truly care about. At this moment, I see people care more about their phones than other people, the blue sky, a friend, because their eyes are on a screen. Their heart is for the screen.
I haven’t even discussed what is on the screen, just the action of staring for HOURS a day at a screen. Our heart goes where our eyes go.
We are missing out on relationships, beauty, and a depth to our own lives because we don’t look up. We don’t observe. We don’t think. These actions strengthen our hearts. Good and bad times strengthen our hearts, but only if we look up. Observe the complexity of loving someone. Of striving for a goal. Reacting to another’s tears. We have to see these to feel them.
If you want to know what condition your heart is in, follow where your eyes go.
It is all Connected 