It came over breakfast at Patella’s Diner. He was working on his second slice of buttered toast when the question left her lips. She delivered it ever so nonchalantly, as casual as the waitress topping off their coffee cups. "What do you think about getting a Christmas tree this year, babe? As long as we’re unpacking, I thought maybe we could get the decorations out, dress the place up a bit, and invite our new neighbors over for a small holiday party. It might be fun! What do you think?"
His wife’s surprising request caught him off guard, forcing him to swallow his mouthful of hot brew just a little too fast. "Aw, Christ! A Christmas tree?" he coughed, choking on the words he was loath to hear. "Just whadda' ya' have in mind?"
"Well I just thought that maybe this year would be a good time to do something different. It’s our first Christmas here.” There was an awkward silence where she had hoped for a promising reply. “You know that elderly lady who lives down the hallway?” she continued. “I was talking with her the other day. She's a very sweet woman you know, and so interesting too. Can you believe that she's lived in that unit for nearly 60 years? Gosh, she must have moved in when she was in her early 20's! That's so hard to imagine these days, someone staying put for so long, don’t you think? Anyway, she said she had some old lights she'd like to give us. I thought we could invite her over, along with some other people in the building. She seems so sweet, and lonely. Seeing a tree strung with her lights might brighten up her day, not to mention brightening our place too. It would be festive! Just something simple is all I have in mind, nothing fancy. I saw some nice looking Spruce trees down on that lot next to the Buy-Rite Market the other day, just the right size, and not too expensive either. Maybe we could go down and have a look after supper tonight."
He had already stopped listening after the antidote about the elderly neighbor. She knew that he abhorred the holidays. It was always the worst time of year for him, a stressful season, empty with all its forced joviality and glad-handing, impossible to live up to its promise. She knew better than to push the subject, but had hoped that with so many boxes left to unpack, the task might prove to be a bit easier and palatable to him. What she didn’t know was that he had already buried the holiday decorations deep in the rear of the storage closet; a calculated move intended precisely to avoid having to decorate. He hated it, but she thought perhaps this year just might be different. Continuing with assurance she cheerfully injected, “We’ve got plenty of time, after all Christmas is still a few weeks away. Besides, it’s not like you can spend your weekends watching football with your friends like before, we haven’t even gotten the cable hooked up yet!” She knew from experience that football was the convenient out he had used countless times before; stringing her along with promises of making good the following weekend until the holiday had virtually come and gone. Year after year the decorations never went up, and she would hear the words that she invariably came to expect, “I’m sorry, babe. Maybe next year.”
She knew there was little chance of seeing the trimmings again this year, but it had almost become a sort of game to her. Not one in which to force her husband into participating in something that he found objectionable, but rather like gambling on future’s; the prospect of whether one day, maybe this day, he might have a surprising change of heart. She certainly knew that he was not a cold nor cruel man. Quite the contrary, he was quite attentive to her needs and desires in every other way. Neither was he a bitter curmudgeon, angry at the world around him. Despite his contempt for the Christmas season, he had always found a way for them to celebrate the holiday in some simple non-traditional way. His avoidance of the holiday was rooted in his disdain for the orthodox trappings that had come to represent Christmas. What others blindly accepted as seasonal custom was simply an endeavor that he believed to be false, and one for which he was not prepared to indulge in, and perhaps never would be. She knew this, but this season she hoped would be the year he’d agree to a compromise. “Give me some time to think about it, dear,” came his lukewarm reply, and for the moment she was satisfied.
Like the good husband he was, he genuinely did give the idea some thought over the next few days. He wasn’t certain about the old lady, but he did agree that the apartment was in need of some extra light. He also understood that he couldn't always dash his wife’s heartfelt request for a little traditional holiday cheer. Perhaps she was right. Maybe this year was a good time for something different. After all, wasn't that the goal they had set out to achieve? Shake thing up a little, stir in some changes? One thing of which he was certain however, he would definitely not be talked into donning a pair of skates for a spin around Wollman Rink.
The weeks passed quickly, and not another word was said about a celebration by either of them. Christmas was now just 7 days away, and cautiously broaching the subject much like testing the temperature of the bath water, she approached him once again at the dinner table. "So have you come to a decision regarding our conversation about the tree?” she implored. “Time is running out you know?” “Yeah, I know, and yes, I have,” he replied, “but would you mind if we didn’t talk about this very moment? I'm dog-tired, babe.” Rubbing his forehead, he sighed heavily, “How about later? I have to decompress first. After we eat, I intend to pour myself a drink and wind down a bit with some music.” He had been working long hours recently and often came home exhausted. Retiring to the music room was common for him, and a pleasure that she certainly appreciated as well, as they both found comfort and solace in the immersion of books and music. “O.K.,” she said, nodding her head in empathy. “I love you.” “I love you too, babe. More than you know,” he whispered.
Later that evening as he prepared to relax with his music, he browsed through their collection for something soulful, something that held special meaning; spiritual music to guide and inspire him, easing the ache he felt in his heart. It had been a grueling day, the demands of a new position, along with another season of false promise weighing heavy on his mind, but he was determined to reach a decision on whether he was willing, or even capable of celebrating with an old fashioned holiday. He was concerned for his wife’s happiness, and perhaps this year truly was a good time for a compromise that could satisfy them both. To the casual observer, his behavior may have seemed trite and selfish, but this was a truly a dilemma for him, and it pained him. His wife understood this and would undoubtedly accept whatever the outcome would be, though she did honestly long for the kind of holiday that others shared. Finding his choice, he placed the record on the turntable, lowered the lights, sipped at his drink, and let the music wash over him. "Maybe it could be nice," he thought to himself, "after all, there's something to be said for having some spiced apple cider around the house. Or better yet, maybe some warm Brandy with cookies and cakes. The apartment warm and toasty, filled with the scent of pine, and lit by the glow of a fire. Yeah, we could put the tree in that corner with some ribbons and bows, and beneath the tree, some brightly wrapped packages in all shapes and sizes.” He let his mind wander free, certainly freer than it ever had before surrounding this topic. “We can sit by the fire sharing stories of Christmases past, and outside the window, maybe some caroler's singing songs of the season. Later, a few friends might drop by for a toast. We could make it a real holiday!” He was actually beginning to warm to the idea, and his wife would surely be pleased to hear the good news.
Just then, the record he was listening to began to skip, breaking the mood, as well as his reverie. He rose from his chair to re-position the needle past the damaged groove, and then returned to the cushioned comfort and his fantasy of a true Christmas celebration. “Now where was I?” he tried to recall. Attempting to re-establish the mood, he pondered the true meaning of the holiday. "Christmas is a spiritual re-experiencing of the birth of Christ as he miraculously appeared born in a manger," he thought to himself. "It was all natural and beautiful. No hospitals, no bright lights. A simple, pure act. Angels and Kings were there, and even a shining star. And to think that in this day and age, we can relive the entire religious meaning of it all. It's a nice thing. The Christmas carols, the ringing bells, the snowfall." Thinking back on holidays long past however, a very different kind of picture slowly began to emerge in his mind. Memories of shopping in crowded department stores, spending more than you could really afford, and why? Because it was expected. Wasn't that what Christmas boiled down to today? He remembered unannounced visits, friends and family dropping by in the name of holiday mirth with cheaply made fruitcakes and coconut macaroons, leaving puddles of melted snow by the doorway, and even bigger messes to be cleaned up after they've left. Everyone carrying on, laughing like the woes of yesterday had simply vanished into thin air. And though he knew that good cheer was a part of the design, it just never rang true enough to feel genuinely warm and sincere. And what about those caroler's, those damn caroler’s outside on the sidewalk, annoying and off key, and everyone finding it so charming. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," he nervously thought. This troubling new scenario was rapidly replacing the previous, more accepting one. It glumly depicted the fretting over cards received from friends who were overlooked on the ‘send to’ list, the cat getting into the tinsel, puking it's guts all over the hardwood and possibly involving an expensive late night trip to the veterinarian emergency room. Further still, it detailed long lines at the Post Office, the excessive eating followed by months of dieting, the credit card bills and merchandise exchanges, the gift received that you had no use for, and the pine needles, 'My God, the pine needles! Sticking in the carpeting 'til springtime! Oh, man!” he thought, grabbing his drink and swallowing hard. “Christmas is really just a lot of unnecessary stress." “This isn’t gonna’ work,” he said stammered softly, but clearly aloud. “Shit! What am I gonna’ do now? I was almost there!”
Downing the remaining contents of his glass, he poured him self another drink. “I need some stronger medicine,” he thought. He went back to the record library to find that certain 'one-of-a-kind' recording that held real power, the power to move mountains. An artist with that certain touch and feeling, a sound that could stir the soul and heal the heart, something soulful, something deep, something utterly transforming. He looked long and hard until he came across what he felt just might be the perfect tonic. Beginning again, he lowered the tone arm, placing headphones over his ears this time to allow the music to work its magic. At that very moment, his wife entered the room prepared to conclude their talk about the tree, the lights, and the idea for a holiday gathering. His heart sank. Just twenty minutes prior he was prepared to tell her that he agreed with her 100%, that decorating the apartment seemed like a good thing to do this year. “So go ahead and invite some neighbors,” he had imagined himself saying. “Tomorrow we’ll pick out a tree, and then I’ll get started on wrestling with the trimmings.” But now his doubts had returned, and they came knocking with a vengeance. The music in his headphones filled his ears, but it had yet to fully cast its spell. Staring at his feet, he looked up at her hoping to buy himself just a little more time to reconsider and sheepishly said, “Not right now, babe. I’m listening to Aretha.” And in that brief moment, with those few words, she understood completely.
© Miles Mellough 2008
1) Wholly Holy
2) Don't Play That Song
3) Think
4) Save Me
5) Ain't No Way
6) I Wonder (Where Are You Tonight)
7) Nobody Knows The Way I Feel (This Morning)
8) Chain Of Fools
9) Since You've Been Gone
10) (I'd Rather Drink) Muddy Water
11) Without The One You Love
12) Trouble In Mind
13) Runnin' Out Of Fools
14) Do Right Woman, Do Right Man
15) Dr. Feelgood
16) Baby I Love You
17) Until You Come Back To Me
18) Only The Lonely
19) Maybe I'm A Fool
20) Don't You Know
21) At Last
22) So Soon
23) The Letter
24) Climbing Higher Mountains
The source material for 'I'm Listening To Aretha' comes from the following recordings:
Amazing Grace (1972)/The Legendary Queen Of Soul (1981)
30 Greatest Hits (1985)/Aretha Sings The Blues (1985)
and
Rare And Unreleased Recordings From The Golden Reign Of The Queen Of Soul (2007)
NRBQ: The Early Quintet/Quartet Years
After two LP's ('NRBQ' and 'Boppin' The Blues,' the latter a shared bill with Carl Perkins), Ferguson dropped out of the band to be replaced by a monster of the guitar, 'Big' Al Anderson. Anderson is a huge hulk of a man with a constant scowl that makes one consider whether it might be prudent to avoid him if he's ever in a foul mood. But despite his bulk and intimidating grimace, Al is actually a gentle giant, "the glue that held the band together," according to Terry Adams. The five man line-up with Anderson remained in place through one more album ('Scraps') before Gadler eventually jumped ship to an indeterminate destiny that he may, or may not have regretted. After their fourth release ('Workshop,' originally to be called 'The Age of Aquariums'), drummer, Staley had also moved on to be replaced by the curly haired, fresh faced, Tom Ardolino. With that last change of personnel, the band officially changed the 'Q' in NRBQ to 'Quartet,' and new line-up of Joey, Terry, Al, and Tom, hit the road in an endless series of small club dates and concerts halls that took them from Altoona to Baton Rogue, Pensacola to Poughkeepsie, Richmond to Cotati, and nearly every town and stage in between. This 'classic' line-up prevailed for 20 odd years --- releasing roughly the same number of recordings --- coming to an end when Anderson left to pursue a successful songwriting career in Nashville, leaving his spot to Spaminato's brother, Tom who stayed until the bands ultimate breakup in 2004. Throughout those decades, NRBQ remained as true to themselves as any self respecting unit of musicians possibly could, never once wavering from their original vision. And through it all, they retained the every hallmark of what the 'Q' ultimately came to embody; world class musicianship, hard work, showmanship, good humor, eclecticism, exploration, great rock n' roll, and damn good fun!
The Power Of Aretha Franklin
The Blood Of Poets II
Jazzoetry
