This songs matters to me, because: (your explanation here)

Not only is that a good story, Jones, but Naomi Watts? Damn, I'm envious.

 

I just looked up a picture of Naomi Watts so I could picture her and Jones in this story.

Beautifully done Jones.

 

This just happened last night. I'll try to get out as much as I can while the memories are still fresh.

I'd seen one of my Facebook friends mention something about a tailgate for Maryland's men's lacrosse game against Navy. It had me somewhat curious because I've covered the women's team and several other Maryland sports. I remembered that there was a tailgate before Maryland's home game against Johns Hopkins. The idea of having one before another in-state rival really sounded like fun.

However, I only knew a few people and I felt awkward about trying to hone my way in on a tailgate party. Dropping in sounded like it'd be more tension than it was worth. Besides, the university was having karaoke in the student union and that was my original plan for the night anyway. Still, curiosity got the best of me and I walked toward Lot 1.

I did sort of a walk through to check out several of the tailgate parties and just take in the scene. Obviously, loud music and drinking and college kids having a great time was the scene. I was thinking about a column about the tailgate goings on, but decided an atmosphere column wasn't going to go over well with the bean counters.

I turned around from the outer limits of the tailgate festivities and decided to make my way back to my car to grab my karaoke CDs and tambourine to get ready for the show. However, I never got that far. I grabbed a can of Monster energy drink that these dudes in a Monster truck were handing out and decided I would guzzle it down on the way there. As I walked, one of the guys from one of the groups motioned to me to come join them. I gave a quick, hesitant look to make sure it was me they wanted, and, sure enough, it was. I decided, sure, why not and joined them.

I lived a pretty sheltered life in college. I'd never shotgunned a beer. I did so for the first time last night. In addition, I had at least four other beers and joined in as the college kids jumped around to certain songs. Two that stood out in my mind were Hell's Bells by AC/DC and Bawitdaba by Kid Rock. I remember playing air guitar as if I were in my alter-ego mode during the former and jumping around like I was a full dozen years younger during the latter. It must have cut an amusing sight since I was wearing a black dress shirt, black Dockers and black sneakers I'd just bought earlier that afternoon, but I didn't care.

One byproduct of my sexual orientation is a wariness when it comes to showing affection/touching other guys, even in "safe" ways that don't invite even a hint of suspicion. Having said that, during the bouncing around to songs, several of the guys showed no hints of such inhibitions. It was all in the name of having fun.

Tailgating was so much fun that the game itself seemed secondary. It turned out to be a good thing. Navy jumped out to a 5-0 lead at halftime and ended up holding on for a 5-4 victory over Maryland. But I won't remember last night for the outcome of the game, nor my thrusting my arms skyward and cheering when Maryland scored goals in its failed comeback effort. I'll remember the fun of an impromptu invitation and everything associated with it.

Up jump the boogie, indeed.

 

That's a cool story, F_Town.

 

i once was driving back home to see my parents and ozzy osbourne came on the radio.

that was awesome.

 

I started to write this about 3 or 4 weeks ago and I wasn’t sure I was going to post it but I feel compelled so, here goes:

Two weeks ago I had a solo at my church gig. My choir director asked me to sing the “Agnus Dei” from Rossini’s “Petite Messe Solonelle” (most of you probably don’t know it but it’s a favourite of mine – an amazing contralto solo with choral interjections). We had done it about 6 years previously to a very favourable reaction and I had been waiting since for a chance to do it again.

I went in on Saturday and rehearsed it with the director. While I was singing it, the very urgent accompaniment under the vocal solo conjured visions of a television screen with pictures of Iraq, Rwanda, famine … all the horrors that beset our world. But, when the choir came in with the text “Dona nobis pacem” (Grant us peace) there was this amazing sense of hope.

I shared this with my director and told him about the spiritual journey I’ve been on. In fact, I told him something that I had never told anyone in my life. I told him that I had always wanted to preach a sermon on doubt. Be careful what you wish for.

The next morning while we were rehearsing for the service the director wondered if I would share a little of of what I had told him with the congregation by way of intro to the piece. The director said he would say something if I didn’t want to but I told him I was good with it and would he mind if I shared what we had talked about after rehearsing as well. He told me to say whatever I felt.

I didn’t really have a plan. The choir was going to go up to the balcony to sing the responses to my solo (a great effect, BTW) so I stepped up to the pulpit as they went out. This was all ad lib but I’ll give you my words as best I remember them:

“I was raised in that most of certain of religions, Roman Catholicism. My mom says that the greatest gift she ever received was the gift of unquestioning faith. This is not a gift that I received. I have always been more comfortable with questions than answers, I think.

Even as a kid I had doubts and questions. Lots and lots of questions. In fact, I was sent home from catechism class as a ‘disruptive influence’ because I not only asked questions, I wouldn’t always accept their answers. In fact, I once told a teacher that her explanation was stupid. I was 6.

I struggled with doubt my whole life, unable to find answers to my questions or find anything that made sense. This disaffection continued to grow until finally, last year, I proudly declared myself an atheist.
<large pause hangs for a moment>

I felt really good about that for a week or two and then I began to feel deeply sad and bereft, a real sense of loss and loneliness and I knew that wasn’t the answer either. And I realized that I was just going to have to live with the doubts.

And that’s what this piece says to me. The accompaniment under the alto solo is restless, in a minor key, driving and driving under the text (and I translate) “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us”. And then, the choir comes in with that gorgeous “Dona nobis pacem” (Grant us peace). That nervous accompaniment comes back again but finally the whole peace culminates with the choir and soloist joining together in an unbearably triumphant E Major singing “Dona nobis pacem”

It says exactly what I feel – that there are horrible things happening in the world but there is beauty too. And it dawned on me that if my Mom’s gift was faith, maybe doubt is mine. I’ll live with the questions and hope for the best.”

Singing the piece was unbelievable. I felt as if I was singing personally to everyone in that room and when the choir came in with their a capella bits, I just smiled at them up in the rear balcony, completely transfixed. And when we finished, the entire congregation burst into spontaneous applause. (I don’t say that as any sort of personal kudo, just to emphasize how caught up in the moment I think we all were).

Best of all, when the service ended I couldn’t get out of the church. I was surrounded by people who wanted to tell me that what I had said mirrored their feelings and that they didn’t know anyone else felt that way. Like me, they assumed that if people are in the church, they believe unquestioningly.

Then an older man asked me if I thought there was room for an atheist in God’s house. He had lost his faith after 9/11. I told him that I thought there was and he asked if he could call me some time to go for coffee and talk about it. I told him I would love nothing more. He hasn’t called yet, but I hope he does.

I received a real gift that day. I found out that I wasn’t alone. There are others on this quest who aren’t convinced by people who proselytize or offer a view that seems to narrow to accept. People who long for a connection to the divine, for lack of a better word, and who find the journey even more valuable that a destination.

And a week later I received a hand written note from an 85 year old woman in the congregation who shared her story about finding that connection when her mother died and assuring me that that day would come for me too.

A lot of things changed for me that day, especially this …. This song that will never ever be the same for me again.

 

I know it's been a long time coming, but every time I read that paragraph, its poetry just strikes me. That paragraph just says it all so eloquently.

 

I really wish we could get recordings of you singing, HC. Beautiful story.

 

Nice to see this one back.

 

Good stuff, HC--I think a lot of us, including me, can relate to your doubts.

 

This post is going to combine a couple of themes.

One is that discussion of reason, season, lifetime friends. This particular person was a "season" in my life. The other is the recent idea of "man dates," and anything that fits the theme of two males and friendship rituals, and how they are sometimes broken.

When I worked at my previous job, I took public transportation and I lived a long way away from the job. If I had my own car at the time, it would have taken me about an hour to get in based on the traffic where I live. Because I didn't, it took two hours. Assuming all went right. Getting home was even more of an ordeal: Two and a half hours of travel if I went straight home, which I seldom did.

One night, I was talking to a woman who'd overheard me talk about the Navy. Turns out she served in the Navy. That gave us a jumping point to talk. Later on, it branched into our meeting the guy about whom I'm writing this post. He also was in the Navy.

I met him one evening when we were both at the bus stop waiting for our bus to arrive. We started the sort of small talk that generally happens at a bus stop. That first meeting, I found out his name was Shaun and we both developed some instant rapport. When we'd see each other, we'd talk about the basic stuff, some of which was Navy-related, some of which was the kind of stuff guys usually talk about.

That went on for a while, and I enjoyed the company. Then at one point, which I can't pinpoint, the conversations became a little more personal. We still definitely enjoyed each other's company, but now we started to open up to each other. I guess it came shortly after the topic somehow became same-sex marriage. I was hesitant to discuss the matter because of my sexual orientation, but he volunteered his support of same-sex marriage, joking that he'd support it as long as it meant he didn't marry a guy.

But soon, he and I started talking about stuff including his past drug use and my dysfunctional non-relationship with my mother. It was definitely striking that a chance encounter with someone who shared my need for public transportation turned in this direction. But again, I welcomed it.

On two separate occasions, our hang-out time didn't end when the bus pulled into the station. One night, he was going Christmas shopping for his wife and he invited me to tag along. We went into this international gifts department store that was at the station and we started looking through the different sections of the store. As we searched for the perfect gift for his wife, I heard the strains of a song I'd already downloaded on iTunes: Santa Claus Is Coming To Town by Chris Isaak and Stevie Nicks. I mentioned it to Shaun and he got a kick out of their added lyrics of "the big fat man."

The other time, we invited the woman we'd previously met who was in the Navy to join us at a restaurant near the station. She had to do something else, so Shaun and I decided to go to the restaurant on our own. We sat down, ordered drinks and food, and started talking, relaxing, doing what two friends do. At one point, I had to go to the restroom. As I was coming back, I heard another "gift" from my girl: Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. It was the second time that Shaun and I hung out and Stevie Nicks decided to join us. We laughed about that, too.

When it came time to pay the bill, I started fishing out my wallet and was about to ask the server to give separate checks, but Shaun paid for both of us. When I read something later about "man dates," it struck me that we'd broken several of the rules of "man dates" in our hanging out time. I don't think either of us really cared.

 

I copied the first of my two contributions to this outstanding thread (page 2) and e-mailed it to the other person in this story.

I've seen her once since 1976 (several people on this board probably know her quite well from working with her over the years, she's been at the same shop since 1975-76), but we ended up talking for about 90 minutes uninterrupted.

Anyhow, her reaction?

"Wow, I'm immortalized!"

Classy lady. The she promised to call, but still hasn't. (sigh). Women.