Tag: blogging

Why I Write

Last week, I had an interaction with someone on Facebook that made me stop and seriously question why I write. The original post, a personal introduction in a group for people with the same Myers-Briggs Personality Type (MBTI), was made under my Facebook profile designated for this blog, The Curated Man. I have a personal Facebook profile as well, but that is used for my friends and family. I use my personal profile to post about personal things. You know, stuff about my kid, my wife, baseball, barbecue (real bbq…smoking and such). Things I won’t post about in a group with over 100,000 members.

While my introduction was widely met with warm welcomes, one person commented with a single word, “Advertisement.” Immediately realizing that they perceived my posting with my Curated Man profile as promoting my writing efforts, I tried to offer them an explanation in hopes that it would relieve the skepticism they might hold about my intentions. I receive no compensation for my little blog. They weren’t willing to concede ground on their assessment of me. I don’t judge them for being wary. However, the interaction did spur me into thinking more intently about the reasons I write.

The primary reason I write is completely selfish. It is a cathartic experience for me. It’s cheaper than therapy. In its simplest form, it is a journal. It allows me to take the random thoughts racing through my head, organize them in a coherent fashion, and create something tangible. It is my feeble attempt at artistic expression. If nobody reads what I write, that’s ok. I’ve still created something that is a reflection of me and the world we live in.

The second big reason that I choose to write is more altruistic. We live in a connected society, as much as some people wish they didn’t. Many are on a journey of trying to understand the world and themselves within that world. My family is well-versed in my experiences and philosophy, only able to withstand small doses of my ramblings. The reality is that most people are not interested in what I have to say. I’m fine with that. But maybe, out there somewhere, is someone on a journey similar to my own. With over 8 billion people on this planet, maybe there are some out there that could benefit by reading a few of my words. Statistically, there have to be at least 20 people out there that meet that criteria. So, for those who might stumble upon my little WordPress blog, I put my thoughts out into the world in hopes that it might in some way help them.

There is another reason I write. It’s another reason why I don’t just keep a private journal. As I make my 52nd trip around the Sun, there are countless times when I wish I could ask my parents for their advice. I wonder what they would have thought about a specific situation. I lost my dad when I was 21. I lost my Mom when I was 30. The older I become, the more I wish I had opportunities to know what they thought about life. Things I didn’t have the wisdom to ask when I was younger. One day, my daughter will likely find herself in the same position. How nice would it be if I could go back and read about what my parents thought about life? So, in that spirit, I will continue to string words together and commit my thoughts to a state of digital immortality. One day, after I’m gone, my daughter will at least have an opportunity to read about my thoughts.

I enjoy writing. There were times when I thought I could make a little extra money with my writing. I soon realized that in the blogging world, making money requires creating a lot of material. It requires consistently pumping out copious amounts of content, all in an effort to stay on the forethought of peoples’ minds. I soon found myself dreading the whole experience. What I created wouldn’t resonate with me. There was no joy. As a result, I decided not to use my blog in that manner. Perhaps one day, I’ll decide to write a book. Maybe, I won’t. As long as I still feel a spark of inspiration which occasionally results in a few paragraphs worthy of sharing, I’ll be just fine.

So, if you see me on social media as The Curated Man, know I’m not there for any purpose other than to interact with people. It means I chose to keep a little piece of myself reserved for those with whom I’ve developed some kind of relationship in the past. It’s merely a partition between my personal self and my less personal self.

My Soundtrack Part VII: All I Really Want 2013 to Present…And Beyond

As this series approaches its conclusion, it should be clear to all how important music is in my life. Famed artist Jean-Michel Basquiat brilliantly stated, “Art is how decorate space, music is how we decorate time.” It’s a universal medium that reflects who we are as a person. It tells our story, even if it is often abstract. It is accessible to nearly every person, regardless of circumstance. Just as the books we read and the people we associate with tell a story of who we are, music can open the same door into a person’s soul.

So, cover me up, and know you’re enough to use me for good…

By 2013, I was 40 years old. Looking back, I can recognize that beyond this point, I didn’t incorporate any new hard rock or metal artists into my soundtrack. It’s not to say that I didn’t occasionally feel the urge to listen to the genre. I just simply didn’t identify with the new music that was being made. There was no connection. It wasn’t illustrative of who I was at that point in my life. Instead, I turned to more subdued sounds. Artists like Jason Isbell and Brandi Carlile began finding their way into my listening rotation. In my opinion, Isbell’s Cover Me Up and Carlile’s The Story are two of the best songs released in the past 20 years. Both are lessons in the songwriting craft and filled to the brim with emotion. Both were reflective of who I had become by this point in my life.

Another musical highlight during this period didn’t involve any specific artists. As my daughter became a little older, she started to develop her own musical identity. Even at an early age, it was clear that she possessed a knack for artistic expression through music. As a toddler, she would often break into impromptu performances for people, including strangers. Any elevated platform became a stage. It would turn that shy, timid little girl into an entirely different person. As such, we did what any thoughtful parents would do. We made her promise she would never play drums and sent her off to music lessons. Piano lessons turned into voice lessons. To this day, music remains one of the few topics that she and I can talk about, with enthusiasm and clarity.

As our daughter became a pre-teen, a familiar musical outlet would return, with a twist. We began to introduce the child to live music. Excluding a Kids Bop concert in 2013, the first real show we took her to was Taylor Swift. We tried to reach a happy medium when choosing shows. We would drag her to see Matchbox Twenty and Counting Crows. At the child’s urging, we would see Fall Out Boy. I finally got a chance to see Alanis Morissette live. Just as I enjoyed watching my wife dance around at a concert, I experienced the same joy watching my teenage daughter do the same.

Now solidly a trio, we introduced our daughter to musical theater. Prior to meeting my wife, I had only been to one Broadway touring production. As a couple, we were fortunate enough to catch Phantom of the Opera on Brodaway, during our first trip to New York City together. It started with touring productions of some of the Disney musicals. In 2015, we took her to see Aladin on Broadway. By 2021, we had season tickets to national touring productions, here in Phoenix. The child loved it. She loved it so much that she decided she wanted to perform on stage herself. At 14, she began performing publicly. When it was time for high school, we would send her to a performing arts school, that offered a college-level theater program. Today, at 16, I’m firmly convinced she could front a successful band. I couldn’t write this series without including her as one of my favorite vocalists to listen to.

Having a musically inclined teenager in the house has had other influences on the music I choose to listen to. Through my daughter, I’ve discovered other contemporary artists that I would most likely never have given much thought to. Hozier and Noah Kahan are perfect examples of this influence. As I write, perhaps the band I’m most excited about is boygenius. If you haven’t caught their first full studio album, The Record, you’re missing out. Their performance Satanist on this past weekend’s airing of Saturday Night Live was one of the best I’ve seen in several years. Then again, I’m a sucker for great harmonies and artists that write their own material.

Now that my musical preferences have been laid bare, for all to see, I find myself asking questions about why my personal soundtrack is the way it is. What attracts me to a specific song, genre, or artist? Are there patterns? What comes next? Why do I enjoy the Eagles more than Don Henley as a solo artist? Does my personality influence the music I like?

As I ponder these questions, there are some clues as to the answers. Obviously, environmental exposure has an influence. I doubt I would have developed a love for the Eagles without ample exposure to their music by my older brother. It’s unlikely that I would have attached to Hair Metal the way I did if my friends at the time weren’t entrenched in the music. However, environmental exposure alone cannot explain other patterns that have emerged.

Another pattern that has become apparent to me, is that I prefer artists that write and record their own music. While I can appreciate an artist’s vocal and musical talent, there is an authenticity present when they write their own material. It’s my bias, and I own that. It also takes nothing away from artists who record other people’s songs. It’s just my preference.

I’ve also noticed that I gravitate towards bands over solo artists. As illustrations, I prefer to listen to the Eagles or Matchbox Twenty over solo works by Don Henley or Rob Thomas. It’s not that I don’t like the solo artists. Boys of Summer by Don Henley is one of my favorite songs from the mid-80s, but even that was co-written by Mike Campbell from Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. There is something about the collaborative songwriting process that can create absolute magic. Without the influences of Kyle Cook and Paul Doucette, It’s unlikely I would have otherwise been drawn to the songwriting of Rob Thomas and Matchbox Twenty. If a band can put forward multiple vocalists, like The Beatles, the Eagles, and boygenius, that’s even more impressive. As much as this element influences the music I have enjoyed throughout life, it doesn’t hold up as an answer all on its own.

And all I need now is intellectual intercourse, a soul to dig the hole much deeper…

This brings me to another factor…does my personality impact the music I like. My Myers-Brigg Type Indicator (MBTI) is INFJ. I’m a sensitive introvert and as such, I spend copious amounts of time within my own head. I suspect that music that would be considered introspective in nature, possess a natural allure to me. I can get lost in my own mind while examining the lyrics of a song. I’m a sucker for the skilled crafting of language. Songs that employ symbolism and metaphors are most likely going to interest me. The allegorical nature of many musical theater songs fascinates me. It’s not that I can’t enjoy a feel-good song of a less cerebral nature, as evidenced by my love of 80s Hair Metal, but it also explains why it’s not a genre of music I listen to frequently any longer. My personality preference wants a deeper connection, much like how I view personal relationships. For this reason, I usually find myself gravitating to the introspective songs of Gen-X.

A great example of how my personality influences my musical taste would be in examining the songwriting of Alanis Morissette. As I have come to understand myself better, and my MBTI, I have come to terms with the fact that I’m not a great example of what appeals to the masses. INFJ is considered the rarest of the MBTIs, with somewhere between 1 to 3 percent of the world’s population falling into this category. Break it down further, and being an INFJ male is even more uncommon (Most INFJs are women). I can be an enigma when people try to get to know me. In fact, the number of people on this earth that I consider close enough to actually understand who I am, can be counted on one hand. When I look at my soundtrack, there is only one artist out there that I listen to, whose lyrics come close to explaining how I think; fellow INFJ Alanis Morissette.

Two songs off Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill are the closest I’ve found that describe who I am. Every word in her song, All I Really Want, captures my desires in life. I have to wonder if Alanis knew she was an INFJ when she wrote that song with Glen Ballard. Being in her 20s when she wrote the song, it’s unlikely she knew. However, when I listen to those words, nothing has captured who I am, nearly as perfect as she did. Her song One Hand In My Pocket also hits close to home. I can be a walking contradiction. I’m equally comfortable watching football as I am watching a Broadway musical. I love humanity, but I can develop a severe distaste for people. I can be as steady as a rock in a crisis, but become overwhelmed with the unplanned trivial things in life. I cannot imagine failing to find a connection in the songs she writes. I’m thankful that there is someone out there like me, who is infinitely more creative than I am, that can speak my truth for the world to try and understand.

Where will my soundtrack go from here? I do not know for certain, but I imagine that the factors I’ve listed above will play a role. I know that I’ll always enjoy listening to my daughter sing. I can’t imagine not enjoying live music with my wife. I am excited to realize that even with 50 years under my belt, there are established artists that I’ve yet to appreciate. I’m also confident that whatever new music I come to enjoy will share similar introspective qualities as I love in Counting Crows and Jason Isbell. I’m not sure I’ll ever connect with another Alanis though. Perhaps, in another 10 years or so, I’ll share another chapter of my musical journey. Until then, my desire is that you take a few moments and think about the soundtrack of your own life. Ask yourself why you like the music you do. Does it connect you to a special time in your life? Does it remind you of a specific person? Does it give people a glimpse into your own mind? How well do you know yourself? Can music help you with your own self-discovery? There are no right answers, just as there is no right or wrong music. What is important is that we decorate time with our music. Appreciation for the arts is intrinsically human. I encourage each of you to embrace it, reflect upon it, and if gifted enough, create some yourself.

My Soundtrack Part VI: Accidentally In Love 2004 – 2012

When we look back on our lives, it’s often easy to identify the moments that forever altered the trajectory that our lives have taken. It’s not so easy to appreciate the significance of those moments as they happen in real time. So it was on June 21, 2004, when a beautiful girl smiled at me amongst a crowd of people. Soon, that girl and I would become inseparable. As I write this, we’ve been married for 17 years. It was never supposed to happen, as both of us had sworn off any thoughts of a serious relationship. Yet, we found ourselves accidentally in love.

Well, baby what am I up to, getting back into, another thing I’d never do…

That Summer, Counting Crows had released a single off the Shrek 2 soundtrack, aptly named Accidentally In Love. While it is by no means my favorite Counting Crows song, it will forever hold a special place in my memories. I have conflicted feelings about the Universe sending me signs. As a rule, I lean much harder toward scientific explanations for what would otherwise be considered omens, yet here was this melodic harbinger of what was to come.

I never would have opened up, but you seemed so real to me…

For the first time, I found myself in a relationship where there was musical congruency. While not identical, our tastes had a significant overlap. Yes, I tended to have more rock preferences and she was slanted toward pop music, but where those sounds met was a beautiful convergence of mutual appreciation. She had a connection to music as well. In fact, the whole concept of a personal soundtrack that accompanies our lives was brought to me by her. And while we cataloged the music a little differently, I found a connection in her love of music.

We also both enjoyed live music. There is an energy associated with a great concert that I’ve yet to see duplicated. I suppose it is similar to the feelings a sports fan feels when invested in an important game, but a concert doesn’t bring with it the anxiety that accompanies a sporting event. There are no winners or losers at a concert. Just a group of people sharing a collective emotional experience. To this day, few things bring me as much joy as watching my wife enjoying herself, especially at a concert.

In July of that Summer, she took me to see Sarah McLachlan, our first concert together. That same month, I brought her to see Don Henley. That cycle would continue throughout the next couple of years. She would take me to my first U2 concert. I would introduce her to Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers and Circus Mexicus. She would take me to see the Rolling Stones and Tom Petty. I’d drag her to see Poison and Cinderella. When not watching national touring acts, we were following local cover bands all around the Phoenix area. We were building memories, almost always finding music tightly woven into each experience. Another new memory was about to be made, as life was about to throw us a curveball. After proposing to my wife in July of 2006, I came home from work five days later to the news that she was pregnant.

Soon reason will have rhyme, soon wisdom will imply…

Both in our 30s, it was obvious that becoming parents would alter our priorities. The chapter of our lives that saw us enjoying live music multiple nights a week would be closing. I’m not complaining, the upcoming chapters are pretty awesome. All the same, it would be almost two years between seeing Tom Petty in 2006 and our next concert, a weekend away at Circus Mexicus in 2008. Of course, that doesn’t mean that music left our lives.

Aside from new material from artists I’ve already written about, there was a new set of artists that was ready to make their debut on my playlist. The Foo Fighters were hitting their stride while bands like Fall Out Boy, The Killers, and The Raconteurs offered fresh new takes for my rock tastebuds. On the poppier side of the melodic spectrum, there was what I dub as the Grey’s Anatomy sound. Think of bands like Snow Patrol, Matt Nathanson, and O.A.R. I still enjoy these bands, yet as with the bands from the early 2000s, the majority of these bands belonged to Millenials. I never developed the same connection with them as I did with my music from the 90s.

And it’s all downhill from here, the curves are sharp and the cliffs are sheer…

Our daughter was born in the Spring of 2007. As you can expect, the transition from a 30-something guy with no children to a 30-something guy with a brand-new baby was a transformative experience. Fortunately, many of the bands that I learned to love in the 90s were also going through their own transformative journeys. The bands that once were writing songs about fumbling through relationships, were now penning songs about relational success. They were writing songs about becoming parents themselves. As I was growing older, so were the themes of the music I listened to. Sattelite by Collective Soul and Small World by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers are perfect examples of this perspective shift. A natural side effect of that maturation is the mellowing of music I started to enjoy. A note to 20-year-old me: In fact, it can at times be too loud.

With that mellowing occurring, there were a couple other bands that started to make their way into my repertoire. I really enjoyed The Lumineers debut album, incorporating some alternative folk into my soundtrack. I also appreciated the song-crafting efforts of Mumford & Sons. It’s crazy how a British band was able to capture their Americana sound.

Eventually, we would tap back into our love of live music, once again putting more effort into seeing bands that we enjoyed. Of course, the frequency would never be like it was from 2004 to 2006. One new and wonderful twist to that formula would be the addition of a third person into our concert equation. I’d find a new layer of joy in watching my daughter discover the same musical magic that her mother and I had stumbled upon!

Up Next: My Soundtrack Party VII – All I Really Want 2013 to Present

When Will It Be Enough?

When I closed my computer yesterday, in preparation to spend the evening with my wife, I had fully intended to write a post today about the onset of Fall in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. I would tell you about a day I hold sacred; The first day of the season when the high temperatures do not go higher than 80 degrees. I would talk about how I eagerly restocked my bird feeders, happily watered my orange tree, and actually sat outside in the afternoon for more than five minutes. All without a drop of sweat beading on my brow. I would tell you about how I watched the woodpeckers methodically taking peanuts from the feeder, then flying off to various palm trees in my yard and elsewhere in the neighborhood, to store their newfound abundance for a later day. That’s what I intended to write today.

That intention vanished as soon as news of the latest American mass shooting, this time in the small city of Lewiston, Maine. My heart sank. It always does. I am an unwavering optimist. I believe there are no problems that collectively, as human beings, we cannot solve. I know we can do it. All you have to do is take a look at countries in Europe. Though the optimism is still there, I continue to be disheartened at America’s inability, or unwillingness, to even try to address this carnage. I woke up this morning asking myself, “When will it be enough?” When will Americans admit that doing nothing isn’t working? If 1st graders in Newton, Connecticut didn’t do it, maybe it was more elementary school children in Uvalde, Texas? No, that did nothing. So, what will it take? When will it be enough for you?

When will it be enough for you? When will you, as an individual, determine that what we are doing in this country concerning gun violence and mass shootings is not working. Because right now, we’re doing nothing. There are individuals who recognize the patterns and are aware enough to know that this isn’t a problem the rest of the world has to worry about. They use their voice. They show up for elections. They know Sandy Hook was an abomination, leaving a permanent scar on the fabric of our society. When will you join them? When will you be courageous enough to say publicly that we need solutions? When will you use your power to say, “Enough, already!”

Some of you, once you figured out the subject of this post, immediately dismissed these words. That doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother me because I know that if we continue to do nothing, what happened in Lewiston, ME will continue to happen. It will happen in big cities. It will happen again in small towns, like Lewiston. It will continue to happen until enough of us decide that inaction is not acceptable. It doesn’t matter if it’s hard. It doesn’t matter if there isn’t a perfect solution. There are options out there if we are humble enough to acknowledge they exist.

So, I ask again. When will it be enough for you?

My Soundtrack Part V: Green and Dumb 2000 -2004

I debated whether the next four years (2000-2004) should have their own post or not. It was a small window of time and comparatively speaking, not as exciting as the previous five years. Yet, for reasons that will make themselves clear in posts to come, these years were distinctly different from the previous stages of my life and drastically different from what was to come starting in 2004. So, a separate post it is!

I feel ugly, but I know I still turn you on…

Entering the 21st century, I was still hungry for new music. The 90s were great, but I was excited for what was yet to come. Most of the music I listened to at the onset of 2000s was from artists I had started following in the 90s. Matchbox Twenty released their second studio album, Mad Season, in 2000. I listened to that album until I had every lyric, chord progression, and backstory memorized. Remember, when I’m interested in something, I deep dive. While their second album was notably different from their debut record, I still connected with it.

There were a couple of new bands that fit the 90s mold that started showing up on my radar. Lifehouse, The Calling, and 3 Doors Down all burst onto the Alt-Rock scene about this time. Probably the most notable new band (at least new to us in the U.S.) that caught my attention was Coldplay. While I enjoyed all of their music, I noticed my tastes began to drift in different directions.

One thing I was never really a fan of, was the testosterone-laden sounds of what I like to refer to as Bro-Rock. What is Bro-Rock you may ask? I would say that Limp Bizkit was the flag bearer. I just never connected with it. In retrospect, I can see the reasons why it didn’t appeal to me. Part of it was likely due to my personality type. Being an intuitive introvert, I definitely appreciate songwriting with an introspective edge to it. I love to listen to thinkers. I had also matured a bit from my Hair Metal days. Life, it turns out, was not one big party. Thank you, Hair Metal! I want my money back.

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby…

What I did enjoy was the emergence of early 2000s Pop Punk. While I was never a big fan Blink 182, they opened up the airways to artists like Wheatus, Simple Plan, and The Used. Next to Matchbox Twenty and Counting Crows, I associate these bands with the early 2000s more than any others. It was definitely rock music and it was heavy on catchy melodies. While it lacked the introspection of my favorite songwriters, it was fun in a rebellious sort of way.

I also liked some of the heavier rock bands that sprouted up during this time. It would be the last time I curated hard rock bands into my life’s soundtrack. Bands like Disturbed and Breaking Benjamin were the most notable that I enjoyed. Soon after, bands like Trapt, Chevelle, and Shinedown joined that group. Again, while I enjoyed the tunes, these artists were not big on introspective songwriting. Another variable was at play here as well. These bands didn’t belong to Gen-X. This was the music of Millenials. While I appreciated the music in its time, I do not necessarily find myself going back to this genre of music today. That said, I wouldn’t necessarily change the radio dial when they came on.

So many castles to storm, so little time…

The early 2000s would also bring a broadening of my musical interests. Ok, perhaps it wasn’t a broadening as much as it was a reunion. The truth is, I’m not sure exactly how to classify it. The reason is due to the band primarily responsible for this broadening is hard to classify. In my most recent post, I wrote about The Refreshments. After their two albums in the 90s, the band had called it quits. The Gin Blossoms had also went on a hiatus in the late 90s. This left some out-of-work musicians on the Tempe Music scene, and they were not quite done making music. In 1998, the lead singer for The Refreshments, Roger Clyne, started playing acoustic sets at some of the local Tempe hotspots. Sitting in with him on these acoustic sets would be members from other local Tempe bands, like Dead Hot Workshop. With that seed, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers would come to fruition. Joining Roger were The Refreshments drummer P.H. Naffah, guitarist Scotty Johnson from the Gin Blossoms, and guitarist Steve Larson from Dead Hot Workshop. In 1999, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers put out their first independent album, Honky Tonk Union.

How to describe this new sound? Well, you could definitely see Roger’s fingerprints from The Refreshments. But this band went in a new direction all together, differing from the quirky rock offerings from the 90s. This was dangerously close to Country music. But to call it Country is not an entirely accurate categorization. Imagine Springsteen and Tom Petty sat down with Buck Owens and Steve Earle in the dusty, Mexican borderlands. Mix with copious amounts of tequila, and something unique, perhaps even magical, was born. Where the band really shined was in their high-energy, live performances. This band had fun making and performing music. Their rendition of Steve Earle’s I Feel Alright remains one of my favorites when I want to give the world the middle finger. Honky Tonk Union would join the short list of albums that I would want with me if I found myself deserted on an island, away from the rest of the world.

In 2002, the band released their second studio album, Sonoran Hope and Madness. The band evolved once more, moving away from the Bakersfield and Austin influences of Honky Tonk Union. If you want to learn a little more about what it is like living in the Sonoran Desert, this album will provide you with an artistic frame of reference. The songwriting was not solely focused on Arizona, but also on the special relationship we have with our cousins to the South. It serves as a reminder that the imaginary lines we draw on maps, do not define the people who straddle both worlds. In 2000, the band would head down Roger’s favorite destination, Rocky Point in Sonora, Mexico, and hold a concert in a dirt lot next to a local cantina. Deemed Circus Mexicus, the band still puts on this ever-growing festival each year, to celebrate life with fans from all over the country.

From the metal sounds of Disturbed to the weathered, soul-exposing offerings of Roger Clyne, perhaps no other period in my life saw such a diverse catalog of music. This period had also been one of the most challenging for me personally. Within the span of nine months in 2003 and 2004, I would find myself searching for a new career, dealing with the death of my Mom, and working through the catastrophic collapse of yet another relationship. I was at my lowest point; utterly directionless. What would come next would change my life forever. This time, however, what awaited wasn’t tragic or destructive. My maturation would get a kick in the pants and I would finally meet the first woman who seemed to really understand me.

Next Up: My Soundtrack Part VI: Accidentally In Love

My Soundtrack Part III: The Dark Ages 1991 – 1994

It was February of 1991. I had just turned 18 and was nearing the end of my Senior year of high school. I lived in Northeastern Arizona, a three-hour drive from the nearest big city, Phoenix. Somehow, I convinced my parents that it was ok to drive to Phoenix with 3 of my friends, to watch my first concert; Poison and Warrant, at the Arizona State University Activity Center. After the show, we would drive the 3 hours back home. All on a school night. The concert was amazing. My parents’ judgment was a little shaky. I felt like an adult, and I gladly went to school the next morning, wearing my new concert tee.

Oh well, whatever, never mind…

I moved to the Phoenix area that Summer, to start college the following Fall. The world was full of possibilities. I finally had cable television, and by extension, MTV. Let the good times roll! In September of 1991, I was contently watching MTV, waiting for the next great Hair Metal music video to play. What I saw and heard was a serious wake-up call. That was the first time I heard Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” While it didn’t sound like what I usually listened to, I couldn’t help but bang my head along during the chorus. It was infectious. The Grunge era had arrived.

As for new music, that Fall was like someone opening up a fire hydrant and letting the water flood your mind. Along with Nirvana, Pearl Jam would hit the mainstream with their album “Ten.” Metallica and Guns n’ Roses both released new albums. I bought them all, of course. At the time, I didn’t anticipate that my beloved Hair Metal would fall by the wayside. I simply thought this was extra. Needless to say, I was wrong about that. The world was changing. Society simply had enough of the non-stop party vibe of the 80s. It seemed that music, as with all art, was a reflection of who we are as a society. The world was changing. Mine was about to as well.

The Autumn leaves have got you thinking, about the first time that you fell…

On a characteristically pleasant October, Sonoran Desert evening, my Dad and I were watching Game 7 of the 1991 National League Championship game, between the Pirates and the Braves. We were interrupted by a knock on our front door. It was my brother-in-law and he had terrible news. My 16 year old nephew had killed himself. I only saw my father cry on a handful of occasions. This was one of them. We all cried. My nephew was only two years younger than I was. In many ways, he was more my little brother than he was my nephew, because of how close we were in age. My whole family was devastated.

Aside from the acute consequences of a traumatic loss, looking back on my life, I realize that I had entered a long term, depressive period. It certainly impacted my world view and I realize now that it influenced the music I would listen to. I lost excitement for new music. In retrospect, I associated this new Grunge sound from Seattle with some signifcant negative emotions. Of course this was an unfair association, but it stuck. Nirvana and Pearl Jam came to represent the loss of the innocence I had recently endured.

In the years to follow, I would fruitlessly hold on to bands like Poison and Warrant. There were a few bands who were still touring together, trying to milk every ounce of magic they could find out of the 80s. While I couldn’t get excited about new music, I was still pouring myself into what I knew. From 1991 to 1994, I would attend more concerts than at any other time in my life. But by 1993, the Hair Metal bands were hanging up their acts, or spiraling into oblivion. Some tried to alter their sound, to be closer in tone to the Grunge sound that dominated the airwaves.

During this time, instead of looking for new music to become excited about, I began to revisit bands from the 70s and 80s that I didn’t pay as much attention to when I was younger. I would dive deep into bands like Van Halen, Journey, Foreigner, and Aerosmith. Unknown to me at the time, this type of deep dive came naturally to my personality type. The music may not have been new, but it was there during a dark period in my young life.

I even tried Country music again. I figured if I liked Willie and Waylon, I could learn to like some of the contemporary Country artists. I tried. I even bought my first pair of boots and my very own Stetson hat. But it wasn’t authentic. I can laugh at myself now. While some of the music was good, it wasn’t my reflection in the songs. That is, until a collective of Country artists came together to pay tribute to a legendary band, that had help shape their own musical tastes; the Eagles. The 1993 album “Common Threads: The Songs of the Eagles” brought all of those songs I loved as a child, back into the view of a new generation. Better yet, members of the Eagles had come together for the first time since their breakup in 1980, to appear in Travis Tritt’s version of their hit “Take it Easy.” Not long after that appearance, it was announced that the Eagles were reuniting for a new album and tour. Hell had frozen over. This, I could get excited about. Once again, I dove deep, rediscovering their music.

A long December, and there’s reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last…

Time for another reality check. In December of 1993, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. If losing my nephew two years earlier hadn’t broken me, this surely would. The prognosis was not good. At 20 years old, I made preparations to say goodbye to the most important man in my life. The ensuing Spring and Summer were the darkest times I had known to that point. When I wasn’t making destructive decisions, I was usually on auto-pilot. I don’t remember being curious, much less curious about new music. If not for the anticipation of the Eagles going on tour that Summer, I doubt I would remember much about the music of that time.

Though I wasn’t in a spot to be receptive, there was new music out there that I would eventually fall in love with. What I didn’t notice at the time, was that a new sound was beginning to take shape, distinctly different than Grunge. The Gin Blossoms released their debut album in 1992. These guys were from Tempe, home of Arizona State University. They had a unique post-grunge, pop-rock sound with a tinge of country, unique to the Tempe music scene. They even had a hit song, “Mrs. Rita” named after a local fortune teller, just a block off the college campus.

Counting Crows released their debut album in 1993. Songs like “Round Here” and “Anna Begins” were emotionally driven songs about taking on the real world and the relationships that accompany such an endeavor. They didn’t sound like anyone else on the music scene. Though they didn’t land their hooks into me then, it was the start of a new musical discovery for me. I didn’t appreciate them in that time. I was too busy trying to navigate my own entry into the real world. I could not begin my exploration into new music until I was released from the sadness of watching a parent die a little bit, every single day. On September 17, 1994, my Dad died. I felt like I had hit rock bottom. Of course, I was nowhere near rock bottom. I knew no better at the age of 21.

Give me a word, give me a sign. Show me where to look, tell me what will I find?

I did my best to keep myself busy. Life had to go on. Aerosmith was touring that Fall and they would be making a stop in Phoenix in October of 1994. It was a welcome distraction. Opening that show was a brand new band out of Georgia, supporting their first single, which was in heavy rotation on MTV. As I waited, anticipating Aerosmith’s set, Collective Soul hit the stage. They were different. It sounded like Southern Rock and Grunge had a baby. I liked it! I liked new music again! I liked the entirty of their 45 minute set! Something changed that night. Excitement about new music had returned to my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was ready to take on the world again. Yes, the past 3 years were awful. Life had changed. But, I had to keep growing. Along the way, I’d find new bands to deep dive on, Collective Soul being one of them.

Next Up: Part IV Recovering the Sattelites: 1994 – 2000

Essential Reading – An Introduction

Today, I’m speaking to the men out there. I’m assuming that since you’re reading this, you have some interest in the whole concept of what it means to be a Curated Man. We are simply products of our experiences. When we talk about becoming the men we wish to be, the careful selection of those experiences plays a pivotal roll. Of course, I’m talking about the experiences we choose, not the ones which are thrust upon us.

I hope that other men have a desire to develop into well balanced people. While we all develop and bloom into our own special versions of human beings, a solid foundation is necessary for any of those versions to thrive. While building that foundation can be complex, I have found it important to compartmentalize the approach, to the extent to which it can be accomplished. Let’s call them pillars of the foundation.

Now that we’ve introduced the concept of the pillars, let’s begin our journey of exploring one of them. Reading. I mean, you’re doing it right now. The written word is responsible for the advanced species of animal that humans have become. And while reading has certainly been crowded out of the options available to us to fill the minutes of our day, the importance of doing so has not diminished.

Gentlemen, I’m not going to offer that you have to become book worms. I’m also not suggesting that reading alone can turn you into a well rounded human being. None the less, reading is important. Reading the right things of course is equally important. This brings me to the reason for this specific blog post. Curating the things we read.

Ultimately, choosing the right reading materials will be an intimately personal decision for any man to make. A lot of those decisions will be driven by what interests the individual and their current circumstances. Still, sometimes a road map is extremely helpful when you’re beginning a new journey.

So, I’ll be starting a new ongoing series called Essential Reading. I will be offering some recommendations on some places to start. Many of the books are ones that occupy permanent spots on my own bookshelves. All have made a mark on the man that I have become. Many will sound like obvious selections. Some may seem a little more non-traditional when we talk about curating the men we want to be. All will come with an explanation as to why they were important to me, hopefully providing value to you.

What are some of the most influential books you have enjoyed? I want to hear from you!

Today, It’s Easier

Today, it became just a bit easier to be a father. It’s easier to teach my daughter, with a straight face, that character matters. Truth matters. It’s easier to demonstrate to her that sometimes how we do things is just as important, if not more so, than what we do. Character matters. Truth matters.

It’s easier to show her that we can still be hopeful about the future of our country. It’s easier to show her that her own potential is limitless. It’s easier to show her that the arc of the moral universe continuously bends towards justice. It’s easier to see that our ultimate success is interwoven with the need for interdependency. She can see that we can never just do things , “our way.” There is the together way, or there is no good way. Allies are important. It’s easier to see that good is absolute, and that loving each other is a necessary element in our shared success. Empathy wins.

Being a father is full of difficulties, but today, it became just a little bit easier.

Do As I Say?

There is an old adage: Judge a man not on his words, but rather upon what he does. Malarkey, I declare!

While it is certainly true that actions can speak louder than words, it doesn’t negate the power that the words we use have on our influence.

Instead, we should be judged upon our words and by our actions. Even more specifically, does what we say match up with what we do? That is our measure.

The Fuel of Hope

Sometimes the juices just don’t flow. I could list the numerous reasons why I haven’t written much this past year. It wouldn’t tell you anything important. The explanation can be reduced to this: I was interested in doing other things. I got out of the habit of putting words on the figurative paper and this year has not been overtly inspirational. I suppose there is only one tried and true way to cultivate inspiration for writing and that is to simply write more. The ideas and feelings will come. I’m going to try and do more of that moving forward.

It certainly has been a year we will not forget. With luck, we will one day tell our grandchildren of our tales, which will become as curious to future generations as the Spanish Flu was to ours. Life has a way of showing humans that in spite of the many amazing things we have accomplished, predicting the future remains marginally more accurate than flipping a coin. The further in time we go, the less precise we become in divining what will come next. That doesn’t mean we do not prepare for possible eventualities, for we know that sooner or later we will need a plan to meet the next challenge we face.

As we eagerly hold the door open for 2020 to show itself out, none of us can predict how we’ll evaluate 2021 next December. We can develop some pretty good ideas as to what is in store for us in the beginning of 2021. Much of the same. Though one thing history has taught us about predicting what comes next is that we will one day move past our current challenges and we will design our fortresses for the next predictably, unpredictable obstacle we must face.

So, we plan and we hope. We look for the answers and put faith in our ability to develop the next set of solutions. Perhaps it is your child that will be one of the minds that will conquer cancer. Maybe it’s my child who figures out how to convert the Sun’s energy into electricity in a manner so efficient that the world will never want for clean and renewable energy again. Maybe it’s our generation. Maybe it’s the next one. It only takes one mind to spark a revolution. It only takes one mind to develop the next life changing innovation. Our job is to keep striving to cultivate those minds and drive towards better. Hope if the fuel we need to keep pushing forward.

I hope in the next year, each of you will find that hope. In the face of whatever may come our way, I hope that you find the joy in life that will provide the fuel that the world needs. I hope you smile as much as you can and laugh as much as possible. Know that I will be working diligently to take my own advice. Happy New Year my friends.