Leaves and Sons

Yesterday afternoon while raking leaves in the backyard, I was doing what I could to be mindful of every action, every moment. I have been thinking quite a bit lately about mortality, the trajectory of time, and seeking to live more consciously in the present. While the simple tangibility of raking leaves brings me a much enjoyed peacefulness, my task was made more challenging by the incessant honking and whooping coming from around the corner.

Coming home from errands with Keri and Tilden, we saw a group of young fraternity gentlemen sitting on their front lawn holding a sign that read: “you honk, we drink,” with a cooler at their side and large cans in hand. I cannot help but find this terribly annoying. I’m not sure whether I’m more annoyed by the young drunken men, or the passers-by tooting their horns; I very purposely did not honk. I’m not entirely sure why this bothers me so much, but it does. Actually I do know a number of reasons why this bothers me, but I don’t really feel like going into it. As I think about it, I conclude that I am more bothered by the honking as it seems to say something about culture. Or perhaps just Troy, NY. Maybe I’m reading too much into this.

Anyway, I raked the leaves, and tried not to pay too much attention to the youngsters. Perhaps if I had done more (some) of that in college I would understand better. I guess it could be funny for a while, though try as I may, I just cannot imagine myself feeling good about being in that situation. I really only have two stories of drunkenness from that time of my life, and though funny in their way, they are somehow stoic, involving only me and my closest friend; One in a dirty campground parking lot, the other in our rented house, on a rainy spring eve. Something about the lack of sheer numbers.

So I raked the leaves. Having grown up on the west coast, the magnitude of them is rather surprising.

What I should really be writing about though, is that fact that at the top of this post was the name Tilden. Indeed. My wife and I now have a son. Tilden Smith Pitcher. The last time I wrote here incidentally, was a mere three days before his birth. Which perhaps explains why I’ve not written since. (Though I have certainly gone that long in the last few years without words, for no apparent reason.) Needless to say, the last three months have been rather challenging. Beautiful beyond measure, but challenging. I’ve also just finished my MFA and recently conquered the worst flu I’ve had in my adult life. I still cannot hear with my right ear. The flu began nearly a month ago. Ugh. How my wife took care of us both is beyond me.

But school is done aside from a few lingering details, and my plate is nearly clean. I have a few ideas for projects that I would like to begin this summer, not the least of which is spending an inordinate amount of time with my son; which is exciting. I also have three completed records, one of which is due out sometime this summer on Standard Recording Co. (see the front page of this site for more details). The other two are both currently seeking labels, a task I never enjoy. Sure would be great someday if the labels sought me. I recently read a wonderful quote from musician and composer Terry Riley that seems apt:

"The choices I've made have been for the music and my own soul," he concludes. "When I walked away from New York, I knew fame wouldn't have given me any happiness if it weren't based on a musical choice. Pran Nath said, 'Just enough fame to keep doing your work is enough,' and I thought that was good advice. I feel terrifically lucky every day I get up and give thanks for what's happened. What really makes me sad is to see young musicians who are hopeless about their situations. My advice is put it all into the music. That's the only thing you can do, because you don't know what kind of hand fate is going to deal you. At least your own soul is going to be getting some feedback."

Posted by jeff pitcher at May 1, 2008 10:10 AM

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