My son Bernie sings his 2007 hit “If I Don’t Know What To Do” in glorious Dolby (TM) sound!
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Here’s a photo taken of my grandfather, Bernie Flanders, on August 15, 1930. He was 17 years old, and he played clarinet and saxophone in this band. My grandfather is standing, fourth from the left. (Click on the photo for a larger image.)
My grandfather played a huge role in the person I became — particularly my love of jazz. Here’s more about that, excerpted from a larger piece I’m working on:
One CommentMy grandparents have played a big part in my life. My grandfather was a saxophonist and clarinetist when he was younger. He played in a swing band with some guys from the GE plant where he worked. When I was growing up, my grandparents had one of those console stereos that was a piece of furniture. It looked like the bottom part of a hutch when it was closed up. It was painted white, and the speaker section along the front had a curtain covering it. To get to the controls, you opened the top of the console. Inside was a turntable and a receiver. My grandpa had a big collection of swing records – including an entire series of records by Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra. These records were made in the 1950s, when Gray decided to create an archive of classic swing tunes by recreating the arrangements of the famous big bands.
I learned every note on every one of these records. Unlike most kids in the late 70’s, who were memorizing the lyrics to “Detroit Rock City,†I was learning the horn parts to “Nightmare†and “String of Pearls†and “Take The A Train.†I also developed a real passion for Nat “King†Cole that continues to this day. My grandfather new most of the soloists from the records – particularly the sax and clarinet players. He and my grandma were also big Lawrence Welk fans, and they both knew the names of every musician and singer and dancer on the show.
My favorite album, and the one I learned the best, was Kenton In Hi-Fi. Kenton made this fantastic recording in 1956 for Capitol Records, and it features many of Stan’s biggest hits – “Artistry In Rhythm,†“Eager Beaver,†“Unison Riff,†and “Artistry Jumps,†to name a few. It also features the very gutsy tenor saxophonist Vido Musso, a ridiculous trumpet section led by Pete Candoli and Maynard Ferguson, and the drumming of the incomparable Mel Lewis. This record swings its ass off from start to finish, and it’s a huge piece of my musical upbringing.
I still love big band music, particularly when it gets cold. I’m not sure what the correlation is, but as the winter approaches, I pull out all my Ellington and Basie and drift back into the first half of the 20th century. I listen to swing music throughout the year, but the strong pull of nostalgia is only there in the winter.
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Going back to music for a minute: I had a very strange musical upbringing. I listened to Nat Cole and Stan Kenton at a time when most kids were listening to disco and Kiss. As I got older, I stayed on my own course. I got some hand-me-down 8-track tapes when I was maybe seven years old. I can’t remember all of them, but my two favorites were a Kiss greatest hits collection (which I loved because Kiss was my cousin Todd’s favorite band, and thus my favorite band, too) and a collection of performances by Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops. I can only recall one song from that collection – and orchestral version of Burt Bacharach’s “Do You Know The Way To San Jose?†What kind of kid listens to big band, cheese rock, and the Boston Pops? Did no one in family own a radio?
One explanation for my early musical taste is that I spent so much time in the Hagyard Building with my grandparents, who didn’t listen to the radio all that much. It’s odd that they didn’t, because listening to the radio has been my grandfather’s main passtime for the past 15 years or so. I don’t remember listening to the radio a lot with my parents, which again is odd because they both worked at a radio station. I think I really started listening to the radio after we moved to New York State. Or at least that’s when I remember riding in the car a lot with the radio on, catching up on some of the music I’d missed.
Not counting the Kiss 8-track, I didn’t own my first rock record until I was in high school. I fell in with a crowd that was into prog rock. The first rock tape I remember owning was a copy of Signals by Rush, a Canadian rock band that my friend Jeff calls the “best all-girl band of the 70’s.†Somewhere around my freshman year, this group of friends turned my on to Yes, Genesis, Rush, King Crimson, the Moody Blues, Pink Floyd, Asia, Jethro Tull – all your prog rock favorites. I still love those bands now, although my tastes have broadened considerably since high school.
The first record I ever spent my own money on was Chuck Mangione’s 1978 album An Evening Of Magic: Live At The Hollywood Bowl. I got the album on cassette (two cassettes, if I remember right) and wore the thing out. In addition to Chuck on flugelhorn and electric piano, the concert featured Chris Vadala on saxes and flutes, Grant Geissman on guitar, Charles Meeks on the bass, James Bradley, Jr. on the drums, and a full orchestra. Vadala tears it up on every track. This album set the stage for my approach to jazz for years to come.
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About the Kenton record: When I was first listening to it as a kid, it never occurred to me that I might one day talk to members of the band. And I don’t mean that I never thought I could reach those heights. I mean it literally never occurred to me that the band existed in the real world, and that some people had jobs that allowed them to talk to musicians.
I probably heard that record for the first time when I was four or five, and I got to know it well a decade later in junior high. Fifteen years after that, I interviewed Maynard Ferguson, one of the trumpeters on Kenton In Hi-Fi, and a legend in his own right. I didn’t ask him about that particular record, although we did talk about Kenton. He was a funny, approachable, articulate man, and he was very generous with his time as a guest on my radio show.
Before I ever thought about interviewing famous musicians, I thought about becoming one. As a young child, I took classical guitar lessons, but I was never very good and I didn’t last long. Right before I went into 7th grade, my cousin-hero Todd sent me his clarinet, which he’d traded in for an electric bass. I started playing clarinet in junior high, switched to saxophone in high school, and decided that being a professional musician was the life for me. As it turned out, though, I got much closer to the top level of performers as an interviewer than I ever did as a performer.
I’m not really sure when it was that I realized that musicians were actual human beings. Isn’t that strange? When do we cross that line of perception and discover that recorded sound is produced by regular people? How do we do it? I don’t think anyone ever told me that all those records were made by people just like me. I guess one day I just put together all the images I’d seen on TV with the records I’d been listening to and made the connection. All these years later, there’s still an element of magic and awe involved in talking with someone who was on a milestone recording.
The picture at the top of this site is a section of the Hagyard Building on Main Street in Lenox, Massachussetts. It’s the building in which my grandparents and great-uncle lived, and it’s the first place I lived, too. This building looms so large in my life that I chose it as the symbol of this site. I took that picture in 2003 or 2004. Well, tonight I found another photo of it, this time from some time between 1910 and 1920:
I found this photo here, at the Library of Congress’s American Memory collection. The collection is chock-full of amazing artifacts, so go take a look.
Comments closedMy wife’s middle name is Miller, which is her mom’s maiden name. Here’s a photo of the recent Miller Family Reunion. Jen is holding John, and Bernie is wearing the hippy shirt to the left. Click on the photo for a larger image.
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Last year, I posted this entry about my great-grandmother Louise Lay’s arrival on these shores on this date in 1897. The date has arrived again, so Happy Arrival Day! Here’s a drawing of the Kensington, the ship on which she sailed:
New York shot down gay marriage rights today (read the New York Times article). In response, Rochester’s progressives met in historic Washington Square Park downtown to grieve, shout and plan for tomorrow. Here are two images from today’s events:
Our three-year-old son, Bernie, has reached another milestone. Ever since he was a toddler, we’ve been putting him to bed by reading books and then laying with him until he falls asleep. In fact, for the first year or so of the routine, we read books and sang songs.
Two nights ago, I read him his books, and then turned off the light. He gave me a kiss and said, “Daddy, will you leave so I can go to sleep?”
“You want me to leave?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
So I left. He turned over, cuddled under his covers, and went to sleep on his own. He did the same thing last night and tonight. It’s exciting to see, and also nice for us, because it puts us back on adult time much earlier. We still have the nice ritual of snuggling and reading books, but he’s comfortable enough now to stay by himself in his room while he falls asleep.
I was talking to a good friend the other day who mentioned that kids seem to go through a developmental leap each spring. She’s seeing it with her daughter, and we’ve really noticed it with Bernie. I ascribed the change to John’s birth. I figured that maybe Bernie just decided to act more like an older brother. Whatever the reason, he’s certainly becoming more grown-up by the day.
When you have your first child, you’re deluged with cliches about how fast the child will grow up. As much as you think you’re ready for it, you’re not. Bernie has gone from a five pound preemie to an active boy in the blink of an eye. It didn’t always seem like a blink along the way, but it sure seems that way now.
Comments closedToday is Jen and my 10th wedding anniversary. Ten years ago today, Jen and I were in the foothills of the Tucson mountains with my grandparents Dot and Bernie Flanders, my aunt Linda and uncle Richard, my two cousins Tammy and Todd, Jen’s brother Sandy, and our friends David Gordon and Priscilla Havlis. We were married by a justice of the peace in front of my aunt and uncle’s house on a beautiful Sonoran Desert afternoon.
The wedding party was small because we were planning to travel back east for two receptions — one in Pennsylvania and one in upstate New York. We got married when we did because were about to move overseas. Or so we hoped.
A small wedding was a fantastic idea. David (my best man) and I had a relaxed morning before the wedding, stopping at Baggins Sandwiches to eat a little food and chat. Then we headed to Michaels Crafts and bought some ribbon to string between chairs so we could create a little aisle to walk down for the wedding. Jen and Priscilla made some flower arrangements at my aunt and uncle’s house.
Shortly before the wedding, Dave and I arrived at the house to change into our wedding clothes. I wore a vintage 1930’s blue pinstriped wool suit. Yup — a wool suit for a desert wedding. That’s macho! And stupid! Jen wore a beatiful cream colored silk outfit with a sleeveless blouse and pants. Her hair was long and flowing and she looked gorgeous.
Dave and I set up chairs for the guests, and hung the ribbon from the chairs to make the aisle. We also set up a semi-circle of rocks, inside of which Jen and I stood during the ceremony. Dave is an artist, and he actually made my gold wedding band. Jen’s wedding ring was a family heirloom given to me by my mother.
We walked down the aisle to a Yo-Yo Ma/Bobby McFerrin tune from their album Hush. The JP did his thing, and we said our vows. Mine included a verse from the song “Sweet Lorraine” — When it’s raining I don’t miss the sun / For that’s when my baby smiles. / And to think that I’m the lucky one / Who will lead her down the aisle. I’m not sure whether Jen heard any of that, because she cried throughout the ceremony. I tried not to take it personally.
Following the ceremony, I walked over to the JP with a check to pay him for his services. He said he only took cash. Dave overheard and went in the house to ask my grandfather whether he had any money. Grandpa came up with the $75, and I avoided going to jail, or whatever happens when you don’t pay the JP.
Then it was off in my grandparents’ white Chevy Corsica (complete with cans hanging off the bumper and the traditional “Just Married” sign) to La Indita, a great Mexican restaurant in downtown Tucson. The whole gang was there, and we had a great dinner on the outdoor patio behind the restaurant. The patio was surrounded by vine-covered trellises filled with singing birds. Dave made a lovely toast, and Jen and I danced our wedding dance to Chet Baker’s recording of “Time After Time.”
When we got back to our apartment (a guest house on Dodge Blvd. that Dave Gordon described fondly as a “hole”), Dave had put flowers on the bed and lit candles around the apartment. Given the dry weather, it’s fairly surprising that the guest house didn’t burn down.
I’m pretty sure that most folks we knew thought the marriage wouldn’t last, but they were wrong. Here we are, 10 years, two kids, five states, and two countries later, more in love than ever.
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Everyone is home safe and sound. I brought Jen and John back from the hospital at 9 p.m. on Monday. My sister, Gretchen, came over to stay with Bernie (who was sound asleep). She took some nice photos, which are now over at the Photos section.
John is doing really well. He’s breastfeeding very successfully. Jen is quite tired, but she’s recovering. We’re all just very happy to be home.
I really need to take a shot of John’s feet. They’re huge!
More soon. For now, take a look at the photos.
Comments closedIt can’t be a bad thing when your new boy shares a birthday with Douglas Adams.
And with Bobby McFerrin, Ralph Abernathy, and Lawrence Welk. Wacky!
Comments closedJohn is out from under the oxygen tent, although he’s still in the special care unit. Jen is doing quite well. We hope to have John in Jen’s room by late tonight, and we really hope to have the whole gang home by tomorrow (Monday).
For those of you keeping score at home, Bernie was born on 11/3, and John was born on 3/11. Coincidence? Yup, but it’s still kinda cool.
We hope to be able to take John out of the O2 tent to feed him around lunchtime today. And we hope to have everyone home tomorrow.
Comments closedJen and I are thrilled to announce the birth of John Flanders Crane. He came into the world at 6:13 p.m. on Saturday, March 11, 2006. He weighed 6 lbs 11 oz at birth.
He’s already taking after his brother — he has a little problem with his lungs, so he’s in an oxygen tent in the special care nursery until at least tomorrow. Bernie had to do the same thing, and he’s completely fine, so we expect to have John with us very soon.
Jen came through with flying colors. She’s really doing well. As for Bernie — he gets to meet his new baby brother tomorrow!
Here are some photos of the day. More details will come in the days ahead.
It was back on February 10 that I wrote a post titled “We almost had a baby tonight.” Here it is, the 5th of March, and we still haven’t had the baby!
As happened with Bernie, Jen’s health has been an issue this time around. Her blood pressure has been quite high, which can be a sign of preeclampsia. So she’s been on bed rest for the last three weeks, which is annoying on its own. Why? Well, no two doctors have the same definition of “bed rest.” Doctor #1 said it meant lying in bed and getting up only to go to the bathroom. Doctor #2 said, “Most of my colleagues would prescribe bed rest, but there’s no evidence that it has any effect, so just take it easy.” And Doctor #3? “Bed rest means bed rest, but you shouldn’t just stay in bed. You can move around.” Got it?
Doctor #3 also made a 9-months-pregnant woman on bed rest wait for 45 minutes in his office until he showed up for our appointment on Friday. We’d already been at the hospital for 90 minutes before that for our weekly tests, too. Good stuff all around.
Not to mention that we picked this doctor (after our midwife plan was nixed) because he’s a family practitioner with an OB specialty. That means that he’ll be the guy who actually delivers the baby, rather than just getting whoever is on call. Except that he’s going on vacation on Friday, so he probably won’t be around when the baby’s delivered after all. If we’d had this doctor for the whole pregnancy, that might just be the luck of the draw. But we didn’t even get this guy until two weeks ago, and he knew he’d be on vacation.
This whole thing just needs to end. A nice, healthy baby. A happy, healthy mommy. And a less stressed me.
All that said, it’s still fantastic that the baby has had three more weeks in the womb than we expected. It’s over 7 pounds now, which is also really great. Bernie was 5 lbs 15 oz, and he was three weeks early. At this point, Baby #2 isn’t technically premature (just two weeks early), and the baby’s weight is fine.
Who knew having a baby could be so challenging? What’s that? You say everyone knew? Oh.
Comments closedAs I’ve mentioned before, I publish the newsletter for the Flanders branch of my family. The newest issue is available now at flandersfamily.org, and you may find it interesting even if you and I aren’t related.
In this issue, we delve into the story of Francis D. Flanders and his brother Joseph R. Flanders. They published a newspaper in Franklin County, New York. They ran for and won elective offices.
And they were jailed by Abraham Lincoln.
That fascinating story, plus:
- Bunny McLeod Graduates From College … at 65!
- Flanders: The Ontario County Connection
- The Mystery In Mt. Hope Cemetery
- Flanders In Politics
- Flanders In The News
- …and more!
Please visit flandersfamily.org to download the newsletter.
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