Sinatra Was A One Take Wonder

I don’t like to rehearse, except for in the shower, because it’s an excuse to take a longer shower. I love taking long, hot showers, whether I’m rehearsing or not. They’re soothing and relaxing, and a great way to put everything else off. The rest of the day’s not anything like that. Way more hassle. If it were up to me, the day would consist of sleeping and a shower. That’s it. I guess I’d have to eat. Let’s just assume that eating is included. Sleep, shower, eat. What else? Nothing. Except for going to the bathroom. Better add that to the list.

Now that I’ve broken the Middleton Historical Society with my epic tale, WE MOVED IT ONCE, WE CAN MOVE IT AGAIN, I’m wondering, what should I do next? Continue to polish the Middleton tale, with its stories of Noah, Moses, and other biblical, mythical, real, and exaggerated characters? Or come up with something entirely new? What about something swirling around my musical heroes?

Frank Sinatra didn’t like to rehearse, either. He was notorious for refusing to do more than one take on the movie set. The opposite of how he was in a recording studio. I’m no Frank Sinatra, but knowing this about him makes me feel less hard on myself for not rehearsing as much as I should. It’s a trait I excuse as authenticity. I don’t want to sound like I memorized my story. When it’s true, at least to you, you don’t have to memorize. Everything flows together.

What about a show centered completely around Glen Campbell? Everyone (and definitely Bob Dylan) agrees that Wichita Lineman is the “greatest song ever written.” He didn’t write the song, but he’s the one known for interpreting it best. Jimmy Webb wrote the song, and he nearly ditched the most exquisite line.

I need you more than want you. And I want you for all time.

You should always have an extra pair of eyes on anything as important as the greatest song ever written.

Where would I stage it? Never been to Wichita. And would I cast myself as that man on the pole? Or as someone driving by, singing in the wire? Another angle would be to make our hero something completely different, someone trying to understand what it’s like to be a lineman, who feels like he’s got to make a pilgrimage to Wichita for credibility’s sake, and if he actually follows through, learns that there’s an unbridgeable gap that can’t be explained simply as too much time having passed since that moment in the song.

We can travel through time and distance. We can imagine ourselves anywhere, using only the material we’ve gathered through experience or read about in a book or seen in a movie. The place and time don’t have to be the actual place and time. We can impose our own rules. Wichita becomes Palm Springs, where Sinatra spent so much of his life. We get rid of the palm trees and replace them with something we saw in Oildale, not far from Bakersfield. Maybe Wichita looks like that. Or we apply reality sparingly. Not every story has to have detailed descriptions of flora and fauna, or the kind of wood used on the counters in the Thrifty’s just off Main Street. Every town has a Main Street, and a lot of them look alike. Just don’t assume they all serve the same flavors.

Our Chrysler was big and white, with a blue band across the top of the windshield. That’s what tinted windshields looked like back then, a blue or green band. Blue was my favorite, but green was novel. I stretched out in back, not minding the hump in the floor. I fit easily, while Annie laid down on the back seat. We didn’t wear seatbelts. We were on our way to the Palm Springs aerial tramway, to the snow, which never fell in LA. It was a two hour drive, and I don’t think the freeway was completed yet. Sinatra or someone similar was playing on the radio, which was AM. We hardly ever got to go up to the snow. I only remember going there once. Palm Springs was fancy. We walked around but didn’t stay there. We vacationed in Desert Hot Springs, about half an hour away, where they had pools of different temperatures. That was our getaway more than once. And my first escape when I was finally allowed to drive on the freeway. A waitress’s boyfriend threatened me for insisting I’d ordered a plain hamburger after she brought me one that wasn’t.

I hear you singing in the wire. I can hear you through the whine.

We don’t always get it right the first take. But much of the time, we do. I think maybe Sinatra’s onto something, and we should just throw ourselves out there, as we are, full of confidence, knowing it’ll never get better than this. No second guessing, just do what it takes to make sure that first take is the best one. And maybe an occasional rehearsal in the shower.

A Fresh Start

Every few generations, God likes to wipe out whoever and whatever’s left on Earth and start over from scratch. Mostly, it’s due to archaic designs, like the dinosaur, or widespread wickedness, like right before Noah’s trans-oceanic cruise aboard the ark. I know God said He wouldn’t pull another stunt like that, but we’re overdue, and even God gets to change His mind. Think about it. What’s left? We’ve explored every far corner of the known world. The only places left to go are other planets. We’re not built for that. Sure, we can reach the moon, and quite possibly Mars, but once we get there, we can’t stay without radical adaptations. It’s not like here on Earth, where we can put on clothes, light a fire, or crank up the AC. Up in the heavens, we can’t even breathe without some sort of mechanical aid. Rather than go through all that, I think it’s far more likely that God will simply go back to the drawing board and create a whole new species that can live in any atmosphere and handle the rigors of interplanetary space travel without the need for artificial intelligence.

I’m not saying that it will happen, or that it should happen, but it could happen. And it would make a lot of sense. Considering how long it’s been since we’ve gone anywhere new, like the moon, our core reason for being has been lost. We’re supposed to find new places and conquer them, regardless of what the locals might say. We haven’t done that in many, many years.

What about other frontiers? Like what? Our minds? Do we really want to be any more self-absorbed?

No, I’m putting my money on God doing a complete overhaul, like back in the old days. That’s how you get to Mars.

Sailing A Yacht Through The Northwest Passage

I watched a commercial on YouTube the other day for The Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection and thought, heck yeah, I want to do that. Not as a passenger, but as crew. Having read Cecil Mackenzie's Donald Mackenzie: "King of the Northwest" and part of Peter Stark's Astoria, along with some articles about the recently discovered wreckage of the Lac De Belle, I feel uniquely qualified to be on board. Not steering the yacht, mind you, nor anything technical, but as the face of the company, something guest services related, where my winning personality and big, beautiful mouth would make the travelers feel right at home or at least glad they're here. If you've studied Mackenzie, like I have, you know that finding the right crew is crucial and not easy. So here I am. Sign me up.

Yachts have sailed everywhere you can think of, including the Northwest Passage. So why hasn't The Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection gone there yet? I think they should. Thanks to Yelp, the experience will be nothing like the Tonquin's voyage around Cape Horn, with prickly Captain Thorn tossing shipmates overboard whenever they made him mad. That's not the Ritz Carlton way.

Cutting through the Northwest Passage on a luxury yacht strikes me as the ultimate combination of fun and adventure, especially if the crew knows what they're doing. Ever done it? What's it like? I've never been on a yacht, but I figure this is my best shot for landing on deck and having it paid for. I will give 1000% of myself, of course, and the guests will be talking about the experience for the rest of their lives, no matter how long that is.

Did I mention the food? I'm sure it's really good. They've also got art on the walls or whatever you call walls on a yacht. Ritz pulled out all the stops, except I don't think there's a Montblanc boutique on board, which is a mistake. People need to keep journals on this sort of trip. You don't want somebody who wasn't even there making up stories to fill in the blanks.

For those of you who know me and have gained the trust of Ernesto Fara, President of The Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection, reach out and tell him that I'm ready to hit the high seas and make him proud, just as long as my wife gets to come along, too. And the pets, naturally.