Category: Current events


Playing at Pig ‘n’ Whistle on Hollywood Blvd.

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May 16, 2015

Dan at Pig 'n' WhistleBefore I went to the ASCAP conference, I wanted to line up a place to play while I was in LA. While I was checking,  I found that it so happened that  the Pig ‘n’ Whistle on Hollywood Blvd., a block from the hotel, had an open mic on Tuesday night.  Not having any kind of following in LA – other than fans on Reverbnation and Facebook – setting up a solo gig would have proved difficult. So an open mic was my best bet.

But it was good fortune that it was an open mic in a historical building. The Pig ‘n’ Whistle was founded in 1927, next to the Egyptian Theatre where the premiers of movies were shown.  You can imagine the movie stars and celebrities that ate there.  The restaurant  has been restored to its original glory. What is called Backstage or the Back Room is down a hall to the back of the restaurant. There was a bar, but it was only used for parties and special events.

Backstage is a funky little room with an even funkier stage. Which is a good thing. Again, you can imagine the private parties held back there over the years. Cameron and I got there before they had everything set up. I was one of the first people on the list. I prefer to go on after a couple of people or acts to get a feel for the crowd. I shouldn’t have been concerned.

When it came time to start, everyone in the room had to pay $3. Which was new for me. If Dan Roark at Pig'n' Whistle 2there is any charge at an open mic in the Dallas area, it is a request for a drink minimum. But it was also Hollywood  Blvd. – you don’t want just anybody wandering in and hanging out.  The McDonald’s has a security guard and police patrols drop around regularly.

The crowd was made up of mostly performers, although there were a few people there to listen. When the show began, the MC asked for the hands of those who wanted to play. I hesitated, to see how  it went. About three people raised their hands. They were the first three to play – with the order corresponding to the raising of hands. The next time around I raised my hand and played in the second batch of performers.

Dan at Pig 'n' Whistle 3It was an eclectic group of people and performers, to say the least. A man who sang cover tunes a capella – in stops and starts at times.  A girl playing her songs on a ukulele, and not too shabbily. A comedian who apparently calls into the Howard Stern show and had jokes that I’m surprised Stern would appreciate. One of those there to listen was a guy made up like Will Farrell in Semi-Pro. He had been out on Hollywood Blvd. near Grauman’s Chinese Theater, posing for pictures for tips.

When I played my songs, I told them I was from Dallas out for the ASCAP conference, and introduced the songs as I always do. I felt like the veteran of the group. I received a good reception from the audience. We listened to a few more performers after I played – including a blues player with an interesting style – before we headed back to the hotel.

It was a great way to end the first day in LA. It’s a more authentic trip when you get to mingle with local people as a traveler and performer. And the journey had just begun.

Peace be with you.

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Flying to LA for ASCAP Conference

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May 7, 2015

Loews Hollywood Hotel

I had the pleasure of attending the ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) conference in LA last week at the Loews Hollywood Hotel. Things are just now getting back to normal enough that I can post about the trip and the conference. Our middle son, Cameron, went with me. The conference began on Wednesday evening with badge pick-up and opening networking reception. Cameron and I flew out on American Airlines from DFW Tuesday morning so I could show him a few things and see some sights.

We were all in our seats and ready to go at the departure time of 9:05. I was enjoying the fact that I had walked my guitar on without any problem and it was safely resting in the overhead bin. The plane had been started. We’re all thinking “here we go” and getting ready, when the pilot comes on the speakers.

“ Ladies and gentlemen, we have some liquid on the side of the plane. It’s probably just fluid that leaked when it was filled up, but we called the mechanics and they’re here to check on it so hopefully we’ll be taking off shortly.”

After a very pregnant pause, he came back on to tell us we would be changing planes. After we had all left the plane, we were sent to another gate. After we got there – some of us anyway – it was not long before they found us another plane. However, this was a considerably smaller plane. Cameron and I thought that some people would not be able to get on the plane, but there were empty seats on the plane when we took off. Some people, I’m sure, made other arrangements if they had connecting flights in LA.

The flight left without any further delays or problems. When we arrived in LA, we were just about to come in on the runway when the pilot suddenly jerked the nose up and hit the gas. We shot up and then headed out over the ocean. It wasn’t my first flight there so I was pretty sure I knew what he was doing.

Then he made a hard banking left. People were beginning to wonder if he was going to take us into the water. But he finally got turned around and told us that the air traffic controllers had switched runways on us at the last minute and we were circling around to try to land again. Which we actually did, thank God. We arrived at LAX almost exactly two hours late.

Cameron and I had a reservation for our GO Shuttle two hours earlier, so it didn’t take long to get on a shuttle. After the obligatory run back around through the airport to check for more passengers, we were on our way to the hotel. We checked in at the hotel and put our stuff in the room. Then we went to get something to eat before I played at Pig ‘n’ Whistle on Hollywood Blvd….

Peace be with you.

 

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Stupid Legal Matters and Stretches

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April 3, 2015

There was a story the other day about a man that sued a Pizza Hut in Tennessee for serving an excessively hard crouton. Let’s take this step by step. You walk into a Pizza Hut and place your order, which, evidently, includes a salad – with croutons. You are eating the salad and at some point you have a crouton in your mouth.

Okay, you begin to bite down the crouton and your teeth feel distinct resistance. If you are above the age of say, five, you give up and throw the crouton away. And the man had dentures so he had some history in the matter. Some people  like to make a point of squeezing the most money possible out of an event that was, in part, their doing.

I shared that story concerning legal stretches to tell you this one. I don’t remember what car or truck I was driving, but regardless, it seems I over-filled the oil. Don’t ask me how – I’ve slept a few times since then. But whatever I had done caused smoke, quite forcefully, to come out of the exhaust pipe. If you are old enough to remember the DDT trucks spraying neighborhoods, it wasn’t quite that bad. Yet that didn’t keep me from feeling conspicuous as all hell.

My fears were not unfounded. A cop pulled me over and wrote me a ticket for – get this – excessive smoke. To make matters worse, I was going through Highland Park when I got the ticket. I worried about it until the court date finally came. I had no idea how much the fine could be for “excessive smoke.”

I arrived on the court date and found my way to the end of the line. This was not, I’m sorry to say, my first encounter with the court system. But it was my first encounter in Highland Park and I had long hair. So I had no idea what to expect.

I finally reached the head of the line. I walked up in front of the judge and stood waiting. He confirmed my name and so forth. Then he got to the charge. He asked if the arresting officer was present and was told no. “Excessive smoke,” he read from his sheet. He looked at me and asked, “what the hell is excessive smoke?”

“I don’t know, sir,” I said as I shrugged my shoulders, “ I think I overfilled my oil so the car was blowing smoke out of the exhaust pipe. I was going over to a friend’s house to try to fix it when I was pulled over and given a ticket for excessive smoke.”

“Pay the ten dollar court fee and we’ll call it even. Next case!”

To this day, I still don’t know what excessive smoke is – at least in regards to a traffic fine. Or what the fine would possibly be.

Peace be with you.

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Hello Out There

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March 18, 2015

Dan at CUMC 3At my one man show at Christ UMC a couple of weeks ago, I played my newest song, Hello Out There, for the first time in public. Introducing the song, I explained that there were various members of church families that were on the autistic spectrum. I was not personally familiar with autism untill a few years ago. I noticed the symptoms in a few of the children, but did not know it was autism.

A college student at church was helping with the Autism center at UNT in Denton and facilitated a program at church with a director of an autism program who had autistic children. After that I began to realize how varied the autism spectrum is. If you do not know, the autistic spectrum stretches from those who are highly functioning to those who are low functioning. Those who are highly functioning need steady, but only slight, intervention by others. Those who are low functioning, on the other hand, need almost constant attention.

I have witnessed incidents at church over the years with some of the children. A few days after one particularly violent episode, I had a conversation with the child’s father. I asked him how the child was and he told me that he wished he could get inside the child’s head to know what the child was thinking. I kept thinking about that because, as a songwriter and author, that’s what I do – think about things.

I do not have any insight into an autistic person’s state of mind. But, having stuttered all my life, I know what it’s like to live in one’s own head. And that’s what led me to write the song, Hello Out There. It can be found here.

Peace be with you.

 

 

 

 

 

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New Year, New Shows, and Seeing Double

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January 2, 2015

Richard Hunt

Richard Hunt

Sitting at my desk thinking about the last year and planning for the new year, I was looking forward to playing shows more often. Not to mention the upcoming music conferences. Such as the ASCAP Expo in April. Or the Songwriter Symposium hosted by the Austin Songwriters Group coming up in a couple of weeks. Which naturally caused me to relive last years symposium, in a fashion. Which led to recalling an interesting story I thought I would relate to you.

For a number of years, I have been attending the Theological School for the Laity at Perkins Theological Seminary at SMU for a weekend in early March. I took a few classes with Robert Hunt, a professor at Perkins. I have also been to other functions at Perkins and have seen and talked to Robert. He has preached in our church. He also gave a presentation at a meeting of the Religion Communicators Council of which I am a member.

Then at the symposium, I saw Robert and thought it was cool that he wrote songs as well as his theological works. I never heard his name at the symposium, but he seemed to know who I was. We are both a friendly sort of people – when we see people we give a knowing look, as if we are introducing ourselves with facial expressions. Which makes each of us seem as if we knew the other beforehand. But I had no doubt at the time that I knew him.

In October, I played a showcase at eSpiritu in Frisco. One of the other four songwriters was Robert – or so I thought. In the emails from the host, Ryan Michael Galloway, he said Richard Hunt was playing – along with Julie Jean White, myself, and Mudcat Reames. I thought he had Richard’s name wrong. When I arrived, I walked up to him and shook his hand. He said he was glad to see me again. While he was playing, his wife was standing at a table across the aisle from Cyndy and I taking pictures. I asked her if he was writing songs under the name of Richard.

“Yes, he’s a lawyer. Both of us are. And yes, he goes by Richard – his real name.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. Cyndy and I looked Richard up on the internet, since she had met Robert as well, and found our answer quickly. Julie Jean played after him. I went on after her. After my set, I walked up to him and asked if he had a brother.”

“Yes,” he said, with a smile and a nod, “a twin.”

“When I saw you at the symposium, I thought you were Robert.”

“That’s a common occurrence.” Another nod and smile.

I was just thankful I was not going stark raving bananas. Who would have thought I would meet twin brothers in basically unrelated areas of my life? I know quite a few sets of twins, but I met them together. I also know there are a lot of twins – more than you would think.

Have you ever met a set of twins, each at different times, not knowing they were twins? I would be interested to know. I don’t think I am the only one. Let us know in the comments.

Peace be with you.

P.S. This story reminded me of another story I heard years ago. Look for the next post.

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Texas Nibbles or Trash or …

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December 31, 2014

Texas Nibbles It began years ago with the recipe on the Chex cereal boxes. Then everyone’s grandmother added their particular additional ingredients. It took on different identities: nibbles, trash, Texas trash, and others. Cyndy’s mom’s recipe is for Texas Nibbles. Our daughter, Jennifer, fixed several different varieties: no nuts, hot, not hot, really hot – you get the idea.

But the point is that – in any variety – the mix is addicting. It is the one thing left over that you don’t have to do anything for but grab a handful. No cutting a pie, no getting a plate dirty, no digging in the refrigerator. Just grab a handful. And it’s salty.

We give containers of mix to the family for Christmas. We also usually receive a container from Jennifer. Naturally, this year was no different. But some things have changed. We still go to my parents on Christmas. But we don’t have a big meal anymore. Mom is not able to cook and serve the meal any longer. Cyndy and I take the Thanksgiving dinner to them – just dropping off food for them and visiting a short while.

On Christmas day Mom and Dad buy snack trays and deli sandwiches. Cyndy, Conner, Cameron, J.D. and myself – often in more than one car – meet Jennifer, her husband, Chris, and their daughter, Kelley, at the grandparents house. This year, Chris’ daughter, Katherine, was able to join us. Rather than have the meal (usually brunch), we go straight to the gift exchange.

Then we all get our stockings from the grandparents, snack a while, and visit. Visiting is the most important part. It is the part that does not and should not change. The people may change slightly from year to year due to life’s circumstances. But the family fellowship does not change.

Our family is one that gets what they need throughout the year. We give gifts to each other all year. Christmas is not about the gifts. It is about celebrating Christ’s birth. And it is also about family – in all it’s facets.

But the one constant between Christmas and New Year’s in our family is the presence of Texas Nibbles. The mix goes quickly around Christmas and then slows down to a steady rate of consumption. The salty after the sweet. Just grab a little and go kind of thing.

I don’t know what Cyndy and I will be watching tonight while waiting on midnight. But I can tell you what we won’t be watching – the countdowns to midnight. I can, however, tell you one thing for certain. We will be eating Texas Nibbles from the bag I have stashed.

Happy New Year! Peace be with you!

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The Pissed Off Goose Imitating Johnny Mathis

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December 19, 2014

Dan at Angelas 12-15-'14 I played Monday night at Angela’s at the Crosswalk in downtown Plano. I had a cold for several days previous. But I felt fairly well – although not completely. While my sons, Cameron and J.D., and I were driving to Angela’s, I developed a tickle in my throat. Which is not all that uncommon. Especially if one is playing and singing all the time during the constantly changing weather of a Texas winter.

Which is when I usually get a cold – when the weather changes. Some people think I mean literally every time the weather changes. But that is not what I – or people like me – mean. We mean certain times when the weather changes. In my case, I mean when the weather changes like it has recently – hot then cold, warm then cold, hot then cold. If the temperature had gotten down to freezing or lower, I would have been screwed.

As it was, I thought I was getting off kind of easy this year – while knocking on wood and crossing my fingers. I was drinking plenty of water before my time to play and took my water with me when my time came. Unfortunately the stage area is just inside the front door and the front of the restaurant is all glass. There was a draft with people walking in and out the door.

The crowd was rather loud, so I was singing and playing louder trying to hear myself. The situation made me sweat, as the cold and the tickle were on my mind as well. But, except for the tickle, I felt fine. When we got home, the tickle faded a bit. I didn’t feel too bad when I went to bed.

When I woke up, my nose was stopped up, my mouth was dry and I had a “jaw ache.” I took some head medicine and went to church to take pictures of the troops coming to pick up the toys we had collected for soldiers’ children. If I talked too much, I sounded like a pissed off goose. So naturally, I kept on talking . All three boys still live at home, so not talking is seldom an option.

As the afternoon turned into evening, I began to sound like a pissed off goose trying to imitate Johnny Mathis. I don’t stutter as much as I used to. But I still don’t appreciate jokes about it. Yet that doesn’t mean I cannot see the humor if it is by me at myself. And sounding like a pissed off goose that is imitating Johnny Mathis and stutters – even I have to think that is vaguely humorous.

Which is why I do not try Dragon software with which the computer follows your vocal commands. I cannot imagine what it would look like if I stuttered. I have tried to imagine, but I really don’t want to know. It would pain me to think that all these years of public speaking and mental adjustment was all for anything close to naught. I usually don’t have a problem when I have a guitar in my hand, but carrying a guitar around and whipping it out when I talk would be more than a little awkward. While waiting around in a fast food place, it would really suck.

But I seriously digress. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it – not as much as I did living it, which was minimal. However, I would like to say that when I played my set, I did really well. Then things went south. So, looking back on it now, I leave you with these words of wisdom.

If we cannot find humor in ourselves, we are not looking hard enough. And try to stay away from drafts.

Peace be with you.

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Thinking While Driving

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December 15, 2014

??????????Thinking while driving is something of which I am excessively guilty. But it is completely legal. In fact, I wish more drivers were guilty of that. Unfortunately, they insist on doing everything they can to avoid actually paying attention to the road and the vehicles around them. Not to mention the drivers who consider traffic signs, such as “left lane for passing only,” mere suggestions and therefore they do not apply to them.

I drove to Nacogdoches last week to pick up our youngest son, J.D., from SFA. On the drive out there, I recalled a trip I made to Nashville in the late 70’s. Joel Nichols and I had just begun playing music together. Joel was going to school in Nashville and I moved out there while he finished his last year and we played music. I had to drive out to SFA and back on the same day. It wore me down. I remembered that Joel and I did not think anything about driving back and forth from Nashville – even though it’s a twelve hour drive.

The first time we drove to Nashville – Joel to return and I to move – I was following Joel in my Comet. My tailpipe had come loose and Joel rigged it with a piece of wire if I remember correctly. It was not too long into the drive before the tailpipe fell loose. Fortunately, the wire kept it from falling off completely.

I would signal Joel and pull over to the side of the road. He would pull over behind me. Then he would grab a towel he had in his car, run up, lay down under my car, shove the pipe back in and tighten the wire. I waited for Joel to get back in his car before we hit the road again.

I would be listening to my 8-track player and cruising right along. Eventually, the tailpipe would come loose again. I would turn the volume up as loud as I could. I would speed up, then slow down so I could hear the radio. When I could not stand the sound anymore, I would signal Joel. Then we would go through the process all over again.

At one point in the journey, we pulled over again as was becoming frequent. When Joel walked up to my car, he was grinning. I asked him what was funny. Joel had been listening to the CB radio in his car. I was driving the truck drivers crazy, speeding up and slowing down. I didn’t think it was so funny at the time. As far as I was concerned, I was doing what I had to do to hear the music.

We went through the process numerous times, but finally made it to Nashville. The reason we didn’t think anything about driving back and forth long distances was because we were young enough to not have anything to worry about but getting to where we were going. I was still concerned about getting where I was going when I was picking J.D. up, but I wasn’t nearly as relaxed as I was driving to Nashville that day. I enjoyed the solitary confinement in the car because it gave me time to think, but it also gave me time to think about problems and worry.

What is the point, you ask, besides just the story? And that is a legitimate question. I was wondering myself for a while. But I think I have the answer. Driving back and forth from Nacogdoches, I was thinking about what I could be doing and what I had to do. When I was driving back and forth from Nashville -as I said earlier – all I had to worry about was getting there and wondering what would happen when I got there.

Sometimes I wish the times could be like they were when Joel and I drove to Nashville. Then I wonder if anything has really changed. Then I think about what has changed. Then I think I might not really wish that at all. Then I get to where I’m going.

Peace be you.

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Sports Announcer Blues

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November 16, 2014

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Seeing Hal Holbrook in “Mark Twain Tonight”

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November 2, 2014

Mark-Twain-Tonight-006-240x300 Cyndy and I had tickets to see Hal Holbrook’s “Mark Twain Tonight” performance at Bass Hall in Fort Worth last night. Unfortunately, we had to miss J.D.’s last game in the Fall baseball tournament at the Ballfields at Craig Ranch in McKinney. He plays on the Stephen F. Austin State University Baseball Club Team. They won the game Friday afternoon, but lost the two games Saturday, so they did not advance. But, with the exception of the game they won, the scores had only a one or two run differential. I was able to see the Friday game. Cyndy, Cameron, and I went to the 2 p.m. game yesterday in which he played more than in the other two games.

The game went a little past the time it was “supposed” to end, so Cyndy and I did not have time to eat before getting to Fort Worth. We parked in the free (on weekends and for Bass Hall events during the week) parking garage next door. This was the first time we have been to Bass Hall. We went to see Brewer and Shipley in a smaller building run by Bass Hall. Which was why I received the email from them during the summer offering a pre-sale ticket price to see Hal Holbrook at something like half-price. With that deal, I figured, what the hell, “go for the gusto,” and I got seats in the orchestra pit. I knew we were close to the stage, but having never been there, I did not know how close.

I showed the woman at the door our tickets so she could scan them. We had a little time so we just wandered around. We came upon a bar and got a couple of beers. A lady came up to us and asked if we wanted to order and pay for our drinks for intermission then and have them waiting at intermission, bypassing the lines. Well, yeah!

When we finished our beers, it was about time to head on into the hall. I asked an usher in the hallway where our tickets were.

“Oh, you’re in the second row. Right down this way.”

We walked to an entrance of the hall and asked if we were in the right place.

“Yes, you’re on the second row. You’re on the other side and you might want to go through the seats where no one is sitting yet to get across.”

Which is what we did. We got to the other side and found that our seats were indeed in the second row. At which time I took a picture of the stage ( since pictures were forbidden during the performance). I posted to Facebook saying I was waiting for the show to start from the second row.

Before the show began, an usher walked up and asked if she could see my tickets. I said “sure” and showed them to her. Then I turned them right side up so she could actually read them.

“You’re in the wrong seats. You’re up here.”

We were in row BBB, seats one and two. According to the seats across the aisle, we were on the right row. But our section was lacking row AAA. Our seats were on the front row! Granted it was only a row difference, but I didn’t know we were that close anyway, and how often do you get to say you were on the front row? And that was not the best part!

We have seen Hal Holbrook’s performance on television and I have wanted to see the show for years. As a writer, humorist, and songwriter myself, he and Mark Twain were two of my mentors, so to speak. Although to be honest, I don’t think either one of them ever wrote a song, but you get my point. Hal Holbrook is also a terrific actor – I like every role I have seen him play (maybe not the character he played, but the way he acted the part).

He did not disappoint us, even though we were not expecting him to. Holbrook’s performance was precisely as good as I was expecting. Being on the front row really, really helped. There were only a very few times when we could not understand a word or two – which was another bonus. I do not know about the people in the back of the hall.

This is the actor’s 60th year doing Mark Twain. I am here to tell you that he puts as much into his performance and loves being Mark Twain as much as he has since he conceived of the idea in 1954. At 89 years old this year, he added three new “numbers,” adding another hour to the repertoire of material. It said in the program that Holbrook will not tell a venue what numbers he will do because he does not want to be limited. He often decides what is next during the performance.

Holbrook made eye contact with us – and others on the front few rows. I have been told that I am a good audience. As a performer myself, I try to watch everyone I see perform as I would want them to watch me. I rarely look away and I look intently – did I say I was a writer?

Cyndy and I popped up when they turned the lights on for intermission. We went to the east side of the building and, sure enough, our beers were waiting for us. The second half of the show was as excellent as the first. When he came out during the applause, he made eye contact with us again. Which I must say was not only thrilling, but the perfect end to a fine performance and a pleasant, intimate evening. And we finally got to eat when we got home.

Peace be with you.

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