Van Halen fans have always seemed to fall in two camps – fans of Roth and fans of Hagar.  (Let’s face it – we can ALL agree that the Gary Cherone experiment was something that need not ever have happened.)  I’ve always found much to like in both Van Halen and Van Hagar. “Van Halen” is one of my favorite albums of all time – and all of the classic line-up albums have done nothing but get better with age.  What the band did in their early years laid the foundation for the guitar rock and heavy metal spectacle bands of the 80’s.  But, none of those bands did it better than Van Halen. 

On the flipside, Van Hagar was the soundtrack to my high school years.  “5150” is also one of my favorite albums of all time.  With each successive release though, (“OU812”, “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge” and “Balance”), the band seemed to lose a little more juice and a little more of the cohesive vision of who they were.  Those albums just don’t hold up as well as “5150”.  That, more than anything, says to me that Van Halen has really always been Dave’s band. 

As I said earlier, Van Halen laid the foundations for much of what was the heavy metal renaissance in the 80’s.  With this new album, they have laid out a blueprint for the return of rock to the airwaves.  Modern in sound yet retro in feel, the music of “A Different Kind of Truth” puts the lie to those that say guitar rock is dead.  Eddie Van Halen is still the king – long live the king.

When the band released the first single, “Tattoo”, many fans where underwhelmed.  I’ll admit, it took a day or two, but I grew to really like the song.  Would it be what I chose to be the single? No.  But it was Van Halen, it was Diamond Dave, and it held the promise of better things to come.  That promise was fulfilled with the release of the full album in February.  After downloading it, I spent the next week listening to little else.  I marinated in it, I breathed it in.  In short – I enjoyed the living hell out of it.

Van Halen have done an incredibly smart thing with this album – a thing many other bands could learn from – they gave the fans what they wanted to hear.   “A Different Kind of Truth” is not so much the band reinventing itself, as it is the band rediscovering itself.  They made a record filled with the best of who they have always been.  Familiar moments that fit like an old pair of blue jeans (or black leather chaps and a samurai sword – as the case may be).  Gone are the soullessly mechanical guitars, the overly plastic sounding vocals, and the thin melodic content.  In their place are the rich guitars of “Diver Down”, the reckless abandon of “1984”, the attitude of “Women and Children First” and the fret board pyrotechnics of “Van Halen” and “Van Halen II”. 

Dave hasn’t sounded this good in years.  Go back and listen to “Can’t Get This Stuff No More” and “Me Wise Magic” from the Greatest Hits release.  His was voice was pinched and processed more than it should have been.  Here, we get Diamond Dave to the fullest.  His theatrics are not too much and not too little – they’re just right.  We get a bit of nonsense, a bit of deep bass spoken word, and a bit of pure metal screaming.  He’s shed the Vegas lounge singer just enough to fall comfortably back into the role of mega-band front man. He’s still over the top, but in a good way.  Welcome back Dave. 

Like many, I was disappointed when Michael Anthony was kicked out of the band.  His harmonies are missed on this record.  But for anyone who doubted why Wolfgang Van Halen was put in the band, just listen to “China Town”.  He’s Eddie Van Halen’s son – and the kid can play.  The bass work is crisp, tight, and solid.  Mike – I’m glad you’ve found a home with Chickenfoot.  For Van Halen – count me as a Wolfgang fan. 

Alex anchors the band with just as much power and authority as he ever as.  Of everyone, he’s been the most consistent over the years. As soon as he hits that distinctive snare drum, you know it’s Alex Van Halen.  Whether it’s the hard driving shuffle of “China Town” and “As Is”, or the laid back groove of “The Trouble With Never” – Alex remains the rock on which Van Halen rests. 

That leaves Eddie.  What can you say about Eddie Van Halen that hasn’t been said before?  He’s been the standard by which all other rock guitarists have been measured for over three decades – and yet he still steps up his game here.  He takes all the pent up expectations of legions of Van Halen fans onto his shoulders and rockets past the bar they set without so much as a peek in the rear view mirror.  Every song rings true with what has always been best about Van Halen – Eddie’s love of playing guitar.  With this album, Eddie reminds us just why rock bands need guitar gods.        

I know there has been a good bit of trepidation by the Van Halen nation leading up to the release of “A Different Kind Of Truth”.  Could they recapture the old magic?  Could Dave still front arguably the most influential rock band of the last 40 years?  Could they  bury their past problems and be Van Halen again?  Could they still make good music? The answer to all of those questions is a resounding YES.

Don’t believe anyone who tells you this “isn’t your dad’s Van Halen.”  It is – and better.  It’s everything you loved about the past with its feet planted firmly on the road to the future.  So pull your ‘83 Camaro out of the garage, hit the highway with the windows rolled down, and crank up your iPod – this is music that’s made to be listened to at high speeds on a warm summer night.  Tell your family, tell your neighbors, tell your Twitter followers, and tell your Facebook friends – there’s a new Van Halen album out and it kicks ass. 

Tattoo

As the first single off the album, “Tattoo” had some fans worried.  It’s not the strongest track on the album, but it has grown on me. It’s an interesting commentary on the role of tattoos in today’s society.  What was once the province of sailors, bikers, and rock stars has now gone decidedly mainstream.  As the song says:

            From mouse-wife to mom-shell

            In the time it takes to get that new tattoo

Listen to it again and you’ll hear that it’s classic Van Halen.  Eddie rips off the first of many blistering solos – definitively letting everyone know that Van Halen is back.

She’s The Woman

“She’s The Woman” brings to mind the driving urgency found on “Van Halen” and “Van Halen II”.  It starts off at a breakneck pace and doesn’t let up for the full 2 minutes and 55 seconds. While the song recalls early Van Halen, the guitar work and sound is the closest you’ll hear to Van Hagar era songs on the album. 

You And Your Blues

This is the first song where you really miss Michael Anthony’s soaring background vocals.  There is a lot for Eddie and Wolfgang to hold down on this song in the vocal department – and while they do an admirable job, it’s still not quite the same.  Dave is pushing the upper limits of his register during the chorus, but it works.  Not a bad song, but not one of the standouts.   It takes you on a tour of obscure and some not so obscure blues references in the lyrics.  Dave recently said about this song, and blues in general:

In fact, if you’re going to speak blues, I’m going to give you a lesson now.  You don’t really have to make any sense at all.  It’s better if, at the end of the phrase, you throw in something a little bit larcenous.  Larceny is like hot sauce – it goes with everything.

I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds profound. 

China Town

This has become one of my favorite tracks.  As I mentioned before – if you had any doubts about Wolfgang’s abilities on bass – listen to this song.  Not only do he and Alex lock in to a furious shuffle for the entire song, he also matches Eddie note for note in a few places (the opening riff and the end of Eddie’s solo to point out a few).  The music is so aggressive and tight, I couldn’t even tell you half of what Dave’s singing – for that, check out the video below.  Dave will explain it.

Blood and Fire

This is another of my favorite tracks on the album.  Of everything, I think it has the most potential to be a true single.  The verse is catchy and melodic, while still maintaining its rock credibility.  It also has one of my favorite spoken word moments from Dave:

            Told you I was coming back.

            Say you missed me.

            Say it like you mean it.

For those three lines alone, it’s a song that needs to be played live – to give the fans their chance to give Dave his due and celebrate his return.

Bullethead

At first listen, this was not one of songs that stuck with me.  Over time, though, I’ve listened to it enough that it’s beginning to make an impact.  It’s got an “Atomic Punk” vibe to it in many ways.  Alex and Wolfgang are very much in the pocket for the entire song, and it delivers one of the better lyrical moments of the album on it:

            If everything is going your way,

            You’re facing the wrong way.

By the way, the song’s lyrics also provide the album’s title – “A different kind of truth”. 

As Is

This song is a fan’s delight – chock-full with echoes of previous Van Halen songs.  Alex opens this song with his best drunken count down, then the band rolls into an “Everybody Wants Some”-esque opening.  The song then powers into a double bass drum driven frenzy taken straight out of “Hot For Teacher”, followed by a solo from Eddie filled with hammer-on riffs that would have been at home in “Eruption”.  Next up, Dave breaks things down over another “Hot For Teacher” inspired guitar moment.  It’s an album’s worth of references in a single song. 

Honeybabysweetiedoll

Even on a great album, one song has to be your least favorite. This is it for me.  It’s the biggest departure from the rest of the album in both feel and execution.  This is Dave at his best, and worst – speaking and singing lyrics that I’m sure where poetic in his mind.  Think more “Me Wise Magic” from the Greatest Hits album, instead of classic Van Halen.  (On a positive note – I did like the random dog bark in the middle of the song…)

The Trouble With Never

This is one of the stronger songs on the album – and another of my favorites.  It’s just fun to listen to.  As much as he missed on “Honeybabysweetiedoll”, Dave is at his best on “The Trouble With Never”.  He’s in full Diamond Dave mode, and still able to pull it off without a touch of irony or self-doubt.  He also asks a question that sums up how I feel about this album:

            When you turn on your stereo

            Does it return the favor?

With “A Different Kind Of Truth”, I’m excited and optimistic about rock music.  Thanks for returning the favor.

Outta Space

This is pure Van Halen, circa 1977, at its best.  Eddie brings a raw and full sound that pays homage to “Running With the Devil”.  I’ll be honest – I don’t really care for the lyrics or the message of the song – but that’s okay.  I’m not really sure the song makes that much sense in the first place.  Just close your eyes, tune out Dave’s words and just listen to the sounds he and the band are making.  It goes down smoother than a wine cooler at a high school dance.

Stay Frosty

No question – this is my favorite song on the album.  If you like “Ice Cream Man”, you’ll find much to like here.  Eddie lays down an acoustic track to Dave’s meditation on world religion.  Don’t let that scare you – the song’s really about staying cool (as Dave’s dad used to tell him).  After two quick verses of acoustic goodness, the band comes in with an infectious and heavy shuffle that takes the song to another level.  After a brief acoustic refrain at the end, the band ends the song as only Van Halen can – in true “fire the confetti cannons, strobe the lights, throw your pick to the audience, and let’s go crazy” fashion.  

Big River

“Big River” brings to mind “Running With The Devil” a bit in its intro.  The song would be forgettable, but for it’s incredibly catching chorus.  Only three words long – “Big river, Rollin’” – the chorus is impossible not to sing along with, and equally as impossible to get out of your head three hours later.  If this is what passes for “filler” with Van Halen these days, I’ll take all they can churn out.

Beats Workin’

Once you listen to “Beats Workin’” you will be hard pressed not to think of “Feel Your Love Tonight”.  It’s a fun song, and great way to end the album – but it suffers from the absence of Michael Anthony’s stellar background vocals.  You get a little insight into Dave’s mindset, and the feeling that he’s very grateful to be back in the limelight. 

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

• Lucasfilm and ILM did a very good job with the 3D conversion.  Given all of the CGI in Eps 1-3, it’s no surprise it looks good.  I’ll be anxious to see what the original trilogy looks like in 3D.

• “Duel of the Fates” is one the best pieces of music John Williams has ever written.

• The light saber battle between Darth Maul, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon is the epitome of Jedi badass-ery.  The fluidity, grace, and aggression on display there is a thing of beauty.

• Jar-Jar Binks remains a disgrace and a distraction.  He makes the Ewoks look Shakespearean.

• More than half the theater was filled with kids.   For some reason, that makes me feel a little bit better about the future of America.

• Any day spent watching Star Wars with my family is a good day.

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

We all sat around the table in my grandmother’s kitchen, talking.  So many of my family’s roads lead to my grandparents’ kitchen.  The children were in the living room playing loudly, my father watching over them with a protective eye.  Over plastic plates filled with chicken, beans, slaw, and more, we swapped stories – sometimes laughing, sometimes smiling.  It was a familiar moment there at table, shared by us countless times over the years.  But this time was different.  This time, we were sharing stories about my cousin Emily.  She had just turned 31 a few weeks earlier and that afternoon we had buried her.

My mom had called to tell me Emily had been taken to the hospital on Saturday night, the 14th.  That Sunday, the 15^th, was her 31^st birthday.  I learned that her liver had failed and she had been put in a medically induced coma.  Her brain began to swell and she eventually developed an infection in her lungs.  Any one of those conditions alone would have been daunting, but taken together – well, the outlook wasn’t good.    

Emily loved to prove people wrong though, and for two weeks, that’s just what she did.  She fought hard while the doctors did everything they could to treat her.  I spent my days waiting for the ring of my cell phone and an update from my mom, or checking Facebook for a new post from my cousin Jenny – Emily’s sister.  Friends, co-workers, and even complete strangers lifted Emily up in prayer each day.  But in the end, it wasn’t meant to be.  We are each allotted a certain measure of steps to take here on the earth and Emily was at the end of her path.  On the morning of January 30^th, her family made the difficult decision to take her off life support.  She passed away at 8:22 AM. 

When I got the call that she was gone, I felt numb.  It didn’t seem possible.  I wasn’t able to be there as she fought for her life, so I hadn’t really come to terms with the reality of it all.  As I sat there, alone in a hotel room, I tried to wrap my head around what I had heard.  I paced around, unsure of what to do.  The silence in the room was too big, so I grabbed my iPhone and played some music to fill the space.  Four songs in, “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry came up in the shuffle.

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh well
Life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

As I sat on the edge of the bed and listened, the words of the song washed over me. This was real.  Emily was gone.  It was then that the first of my tears slid slowly down my cheek. 

Ten years separated Emily and myself, just as ten years separate her sister and my brother.  We all grew up together – Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July, birthdays, vacations, etc.  We also shared the quieter times – afternoon meals at the kitchen table at Mema and Papa’s house, summer days outside in the backyard – we were always together as an extended family.  As my brother remarked earlier this week – “family runs deep in our circle.”  We shared a common experience and a common lens through which we learned what it meant to be family. 

As we grew older, we all had our own lives to lead and our own paths to find.  Still, no matter what roads we took, they always eventually led back to Mema and Papa’s kitchen.  Not everyone could be there at every gathering, but whenever we got together – it was still family.  No matter where we went, no matter what we did, no matter who we became – we could always come back to the safety and love there in that kitchen. 

The last time we all got together was over Christmas at Mema’s house. (Even though we lost my grandfather last summer, it still seems strange to call it simply Mema’s house.)  That evening, Emily brought materials up to make jewelry with the kids.  They had a blast.  When they were finished, at some point Emily quietly slipped out and went back home.  In all of the chaos that is Christmas, we didn’t see her leave, nor did we get to tell her goodbye.  I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the last time I would see her.

I regret not seeing her leave that night.  I regret not getting to tell her Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  I regret not getting to say goodbye.  Still, the last memory I have of her is one of her playing with my daughter – and making her smile.  It was a small moment, but it was a moment of joy that Emily left in the world.  I know she left many, many more of those moments along the way. 

When I think about Emily now, I remember many things.  I remember a little girl who pestered my brother and I endlessly like the little sister we never had.  I remember how she always wanted Papa to make her a grilled cheese sandwich when she would come up to the house.  I remember her coming over to see me go to my first prom and how thrilled she was by the real life dress-up clothes.  I remember having a spirited political debate one Thanksgiving – neither of us willing to give an inch.  I remember her smile.  I remember her love of music.

Even as a child, she always wanted to be a performer.  She had a beautiful voice – in fact she sang at my wedding. I came across a quote the other day – “The meaning of life is to find your gift.  The purpose of life is to give it away.”  Below is one of Emily’s original songs – “Thinking of You”.  If you enjoy it, please give it away; please share it with your friends.  Emily always wanted to share her talent.  She always wanted to be heard. 

Emily had an artist’s soul and, in some ways, met with an artist’s end – gone far too soon with promise left unfulfilled.  Whatever songs she kept hidden in her heart will remain unsung.  She never got to be a famous musician.  She never got to perform in front of millions of people.  She never got to live life as a rock star.  Instead, she did something much more important.  She lived life as a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a cousin, and a friend.  She may not have written songs heard by millions, but she touched the lives of those around her and left her mark on those that knew her.  She loved, and was loved – and that’s worth far more than riches or fame. 

The funeral service was held on a clear Saturday afternoon.  So many came to remember Emily and celebrate her life, the chapel was overflowing.  The preacher had lost his daughter to cancer three weeks prior to the service, but he persevered through his emotions and gave a comfort to Emily’s parents only found in shared sorrow and loss. 

The day seemed to fly by and after making our way to the cemetery to pay our last respects, we eventually found ourselves back at Mema’s house – back to the kitchen table.  The children were still playing, the food was still warm – and as we sat there talking, one of the songs from the service kept running through my mind. 

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.  

“It is well, with my soul.”  Easy to sing, hard to live – but it will come in time.  We were all wounded by the sharp knife of a life cut too short.  The wounds are still fresh and will take time to heal.  Still, I took comfort in those words, and I took comfort in my family around me.  I also took comfort in the things I know.  I know my family is strong, and we will all get through this.  I also know it won’t be easy.  I know all our lives are better for having shared our time with Emily.  I know there is a purpose in all things – the good and bad, the priceless and the painful.  I know every day is precious and tomorrow should never be taken for granted. 

Most importantly, I know when Emily got to Heaven, Papa was there to welcome her home.  I’ll bet he had a kitchen table ready so they could sit and visit – and I’ll bet he had a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for her. 

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

First up was Jennifer Billey – or as she should probably be called: Bikini Girl 2.0.  Dressed in (not much of) an American themed bikini, she told us – “I would call myself a Patriot”.  I think most people would take a look call you an exotic dancer wannabe – but I digress.  Ryan had her walk up and down the stairs a few times in what I can only assume was an effort to help her demonstrate to America how good her posture was.  As for the singing – well, let’s just say it’s a good thing she has her looks to fall back on.    

In order to cleanse the proverbial pallet, Ashley Robles was next up.  A single mom from California, Ashley had a lot going for her in the likability department.  She was cute, she was confident, and she could sing.  Her voice was powerful, although I could have done without some of the growl.  More importantly, her daughter was adorable.  She told us all – “I’m going to be on the show with my mom.  I’m going to be a dancer.”  Nothing like a cute kid to draw in a few votes now in then…

Up next was Jayrah Gibson.  I don’t even know where to start with him.  Him informed us all that he’s been told – “you can’t write, you can’t sing, so all you can do is sing.”  That was followed by an exposition on his theories on how to succeed in the world.  I’ve read instructions on how to operate a cappuccino machine, in Japanese, that were easier to follow.  When he met the judges, he decided to perform an original song he wrote for Jennifer – “Shake Your Moneymaker”.  Surprisingly, he didn’t suck.  He had a decent beat box to start and followed it up with a strong R&B voice.  He was on to Hollywood, but let’s all agree – he shouldn’t be allowed to talk to the camera anymore.  It’s just too exhausting.

Time for a montage of golden ticket winners.  I’m pretty sure I spotted one of the Milli Vanilli kids from last year’s Hollywood week (he was one of the kids with the incredibly annoying moms.  You can read about them here.)  Here’s a bit of advice for the contestants.  When you are standing below decks on an aircraft carrier, it’s probably best not to jump up and down with joy.  You could crack your skull open.  I’m just saying…

Aubree Dieckmeyer was next on deck.  Before we get to her audition, I have two observations.  First – with a speaking voice like that, Aubree shouldn’t encourage people to think she’s stupid by talking about being America’s Next Top Model.  Second- who was the fat guy in the tie-dyed shirt who went waddling through the shot behind Aubree?  Perhaps conducting the interviews in a public place was not such a great idea.  Anyway – when Aubree finally had a chance to sing, she had a very interesting voice.  It was smooth and cottony, but she just had too much of a Lindsay Lohan vibe for me to really take her seriously. 

Ali Shields made it to the auditions by virtue of being an Ellen DeGeneres super-fan.  I tried not to hold that against her.  Evidently she sent a song to Ellen, who had her on the show, then sent her to the AMA’s, where she kissed Usher, and on and on and on.  Sorry – I stopped caring 2 minutes ago.  Ali was just a LITTLE too excited and goofy for me during the pre-interview.  And then – she decided to rap.  But that wasn’t all – she also threw down a little rump-shaker action.  That’s right – a rapper and a booty dancer.  She was a double threat.  But could she actually sing?  Well – yes.  Kind of.  I’m not sure she gets out of Hollywood, but she’s definitely a character.  (The entire time, I kept expecting her to break out a Mary Katherine “Superstar” cheer – but I guess even Ali had her limits.) 

Kyle Crews was next to sing for the judges.  In my notes I wrote – “College student, frat guy, lady’s man, and pretty decent singer.”  I’ll give him this, he didn’t lack for confidence at all (even though he claimed otherwise.)   Steven called him “the best male voice we’ve heard yet.”  I don’t know that I would go that far, but he was good.  And I do agree with Steven – he needs to lose that shirt he was wearing. 

After the break we joined Joanne Childers – getting her one shining moment on the stage – only to have it ruined by the horn of a passing boat.  Seriously, they didn’t realize there would be boat and airplane noise?   It was funny – unless you were a contestant, I suppose.  (On another note, we also had our first, and hopefully last, fart joke of the season.)

Next up was Jim Carrey’s daughter – Jane Carrey.  Yes, THAT Jim Carrey.  She gave a very open and heartfelt account of what it is like to have a famous parent, and how that drives her to find her own place in the world.  It was honest and thoughtful – I liked her right away.  Once she got into the audition, Jennifer reminded us all that she worked with Carrey on “In Living Color” as a Fly girl, and knew Jane when she was two years old.  Small world.  When she sang, she wasn’t amazing, but she was pretty good.  The judges nailed it, telling her she didn’t have the depth of emotion she needed.  She got through to Hollywood, but will she be able to make it on her own, or will they perhaps keep her around because of her name? Time will tell.

The last contestant of the day was Jason Hamlin – or as he liked to be called – Wolf.  The son of a guitar builder, he told us about the “git-fiddle” his dad constructed for him and how it led him to take up music.  His dad passed away in 2010 and Wolf was singing for him.  With that story, and as the last contestant of the night, you assumed he would be good.  I really wanted to like him, but as he started singing, it just wasn’t happening.  It was boring.  Then he got to the back half of “Folsom Prison Blues” and decided to cut loose – and it started to work.  It didn’t soar, but it was entertaining.  Wolf is another contestant who has tons of character, but not necessarily the same measure of talent.   

And with that, we came to the end of the San Diego auditions.  In total, 53 golden tickets were awarded.  Is it just me, or do the tickets to Hollywood seem to be piling up at an alarming rate?  I see a large contingent of broken dreams heading our way on day one of Hollywood week this year when they have to quickly winnow the field.  That’s when it REALLY gets interesting. I can’t wait.  

Tonight’s “Pearls of Wisdom” from Steven Tyler:

Don’t you know it’s against the law to be that cute?

There was a fellow named Frick = and you know where we’re going with this one…

I can’t wait to hear 40 people sing the same Adele song, for six f-ing hours!

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

First up was Heejun Han.  To say that he presented himself in an underwhelming manner would be an understatement.  As he talked to Ryan I wasn’t sure if he had been sniffing glue or was just roused from his midday nap to attend the auditions.  Dude was strange.  To top it off, his family told Ryan they had never heard him sing.  My thought was – “they’re probably the lucky ones.”  But then he walked in the audition room and started singing.  You would think by now I would know not to judge a book by its cover.  Turns out dude was strange – but dude could sing.  Three quick yeses and he was on his way.  (By the way – he also had one of the strangest, and yet coolest, “I’m going to Hollywood” moments ever…)

A quick montage after the break featured glimpses of Dorky Pittsburgh Kid, Tie-Dyed Guy, Clueless Dave Mustain Guy, Generic Girls #1, #2, and #3, and Justin Guaraní 2.0 – it was scintillating. 

Next up was Reed Grimm.  He walked us through the entire process of his parents meeting, getting married, having kids, and then apparently putting them to work as child slave labor in a travelling rock band.  Those long hours toiling away as a child roadie and miniature Elvis impersonator must have paid off because Reed nailed the audition.  He had an obvious depth of musical knowledge and experience.  It was a bit of a Casey Abrams vibe – but in the best possible way.  Good news was – where Casey was “blessed” with Seth Rogan’s beard, Reed was instead gifted with Tom Cruise’s smile.  Cleaned up a bit – girls are going to dig Reed. 

Time for a montage of some of the singers who made it through to Hollywood (including one girl who looked eerily like Julie Louis Dreyfus…) Again – I’m not prepared to give a rat’s rear end about any of them unless the get through day one in LA.  Check back with me in a few weeks. 

It’s at this point that I feel compelled to pause for a public service announcement.  Friends don’t let friends “plank” on American Idol.  It distracts from the important work of mocking those people with no self-awareness or who are just willfully ignorant of their utter lack of singing ability or social skills.  Once you “plank” on the show, I will neither give you the honor of a snarky nickname nor will I review your sister’s audition.  This has been a public service announcement from Concerned Citizens Against Planking.  (If you want to be relevant, you need to be Tebowing – even I know that.)

After the unfortunate planking incident, we were treated to Creighton Fraker – a starving artist from New York.  I’m not sure why he’s starving – the bunny ears and cheap Elton John sunglasses he wore in his bio piece fairly screamed – “I’m classy, you should pay me to entertain you!”  He chose to sing an “original” song, and Jennifer commented that he sounded like Jamiroquai and Justin Timberlake had a baby.  For me it was more like the Keebler Elf than Justin Timberlake.  Still, he wasn’t without talent.  It was too stylized and quirky for me to really enjoy it, but there might be something there.  I found myself intrigued.

Eben Frankewitz was next up.  He was only fifteen, but I was impressed by his maturity and even more impressed by his audition. He tackled “Ain’t No Sunshine” and absolutely slayed it.  He had a pure tone and great control for fifteen.  I wonder what it will be like if/when his voice changes.  It’s too bad the producers decided to play Justin Beiber as his exit music.  Let the kid be himself – one Beiber is already one too many.

Travis Orlando, a returning auditioner from season 10 was the next up.  I don’t really remember Travis from last season and I’m not sure I will remember him this year either. He wasn’t bad; he just wasn’t great.  His backstory was far more compelling than his voice and – in the end – it was enough to get him through to Hollywood.  We’ll see how he fares against the truly strong voices in the next round.

After the break, Randy and Steven treated the contestants to an impromptu performance of “Pink”.  It wasn’t bad.  Good thing they didn’t ask them to do the National Anthem…

Wedding singer Erika Van Pelt was next in front of the judges.  Just listening to her talk in the interview, you could hear the delicious rasp and texture in her voice.  When she started singing, it really came through.  She had that deeper, fuller alto voice that I love.  All those weddings really paid off for Erika.

After the break we met Shane Bruce, a coal miner from West Virginia.  (Okay – just let me tell you how hard it is for me to restrain myself from including a page or two of West Virginia jokes here.  Look – I’m from the South, I’m allowed – but I’m going to restrain myself and show a little decorum.)  He was proud to be a coal miner, but wanted to chase his dream of being a singer.  I respect him for both of those.  This was one of those really tough auditions to watch.  Shane had a good voice, but not quite good enough.  He was almost there but couldn’t push it over the edge.  You could feel the disappointment rolling off of him in waves after he didn’t make it through.  I genuinely felt bad for him as he cried on his mom’s shoulder.  I hope he comes back next year.

The last singer of the night was Hallie Day.  She had a compelling story – dropping out of high school and moving to New York to try to make it in a band.  After failing to make it big, she moved back home to Baltimore where she eventually tried to commit suicide.  After her recovery, she met her future husband Ryan, who encouraged her to audition for Idol.  Good thing he did.  Hallie had a strong voice, the kind with plenty of range but also plenty of body.  No thin, shrill high notes from her – it was all power. 

And that was the end of the show.  Pittsburgh delivered 38 hopefuls through to Hollywood.  All in all, not a bad show – but no one really jumped out and grabbed me.  Maybe I’m getting jaded, but I’ve been left a little flat by most of the auditions so far this year.  Next up is a trip to San Diego and auditions on an aircraft carrier.  Maybe there will be someone there who’ll rise above the crowd.  We’ll have to wait and see.  Until then – Word Zombie out.      

Tonight’s “Pearls of Wisdom” from Steven Tyler:

Time for a limerick.  “There was a young man from St. Paul’s” – no, never mind – we won’t do this one.

You’re a beautiful man.

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s dive in.  The Idol premier came to us from Savannah, GA this year.  (When asked about how this stop was treating him, Steven quipped – “Savannah’s treatin’ me great – but I didn’t know you knew her…”) The theme of the show was all about the young kids who grew up watching Idol and are now old enough to audition.  Thanks for making me feel old. 

David Leathers Jr. (or  “Mr. Steal-Your-Girl”) was up first.  My first thought was – this kid is seventeen?  He looked like he was twelve.  In the first of many flashbacks to their contestants’ earlier years, we found out that David was evidently in a competition a few years ago with Scotty McCreary.  Small world, or at least it looks that way when you have millions of audition stories to choose from.  Let me say this about “Mr. Steal-Your-Girl”, he may have a voice that sounds vaguely like a chipmunk, but the kid can sing.  I wonder if he’ll still be able to sing like that when he hits puberty?

Next up was Gabby Carrubba.  Not only was she a singer, she’s also a world champion tap dancer.  She may be the ultimate Idol fan (perhaps the Cochran of the bunch?)  Coming into the audition, she went right over to Nigel to give him a hug.  Nice way to work the room, and work the producer.  Not only that – she had a great voice, making Steven pull out his “ooh – that’s good” face.  Gabby did herself proud – she was cute, she was likable, she’s a fan, and she had a good voice.   

Time for our first montage – this one of some of the better singers.  If I had tons of time, I would run them all down for you – but I don’t.  Let’s wait and see if any of them show up again in Hollywood.  Then I’ll care.  One piece of advice – if you are going to show a montage of people singing different songs, having an instrumental track playing in the background of the montage is not the best idea.  It’s just distracting.

Our next singer was Jessica Whitely.  Let me just say this – if the show was based on talking voice, this girl would not have stood a chance.  She just sounded a bit off.  But it’s not a speaking competition; it’s a singing competition.  Unfortunately, she didn’t sing any better than she spoke.  She sounded like a Muppet being put through a 1950’s clothes wringer.  She didn’t make it, but did promise (threaten?) to come back and audition again in Texas.

After painful Muppet lady, we were treated to the bizzaro Ryan Seacrest – Shaun Kraismon.   This guy was freakishly like Ryan.  He had the look, he had the delivery, and he had the confidence.  What he didn’t have was a good singing voice and, alas, this isn’t American Seacrest.  Still – it would be a crime if we didn’t see Sean again at some point during the season.  Could a date with the finale be in his future?

Shannon Magrane was next to grace the stage.  She was 15 years old, 6 feet tall, had size 11 shoes, was a volleyball player, and was also the daughter of a professional pitcher for the Cardinals.  Her dad made the mistake of asking how the weather was in Boston.   “Hot, humid, and happening – just like your daughter.”  Say what??  Awkward.  Shannon was an okay singer – not stellar – but good.  Looks like an easy cut in Hollywood. 

Time for another montage – this time of the worst singers of the day.  We had bleach-blond Jessica Simpson wannabe, Forgettable Guy #1, Forgettable Guy #2, Forgettable Guy #3, Unfortunate hair-highlights guy, hippy girl, Seth Rogan beard guy, and Forgettable Girl #1.  It was a truly moving montage. 

After the montage we met Amy Bromfeld.  Amy told us she lives in a tent with her boyfriend because they have no money.  We got a tour of the tent (at which point we all realized she must have a great voice – they rarely do background pieces on “Forgettable Guy #2”).  When asked about it, she told Ryan “I would rather be outdoors and happy than indoors and miserable.”  From the moment she opened her mouth, I knew I would like her voice.  I was right.  She had an authenticity and a likability that was infectious.  As Jennifer dubbed her – she’s a “Hipsy” (that’s a Hip Gypsie for those slower people playing along at home.)  If Amy makes it through Hollywood, she would benefit greatly from the stylists on the live shows, and might just find a path out of the woods and on to the stage.

Joshua Chavis informed us his biggest dream was to sing the national anthem at a NASCAR race.  He also told us that he’s been compared to Chris Daughtry and Brad Paisley.  Really?  Not so much. The good news is, he didn’t break down and cry like a girl after the audition, curse at the camera, and then flip America off.  Oh wait – actually he did.  Stay classy, Joshua.    

Stephanie Renee grew up watching American Idol and loved Carrie Underwood.  We were treated to pictures of her homemade Carrie poster from when she was a kid.  She even sang “Inside your Heaven” for her audition.  She squeaked through to Hollywood, but was very average and forgettable.  At least Carrie got a little screen time. 

And that was the halfway point – one hour in and one hour to go.  Mercifully few terrible singers had hit the screen by this point, but I was already getting tired of the “wow all these kids grew up watching American Idol” meme.  I know – I’m old.  In other news – “you damn kids get off my lawn.”

Schylar Dickson was next up.  She auditioned last year with her brother Colton (who I vaguely remember from Hollywood week…)  This year she decided to go solo, or at least she tried to.  Instead, the judges made a big deal out of bringing Colton in from outside and making him audition as well.  This was supposed to be Schylar’s audition, and they made it about her brother instead.  Way to pump up the girl’s self esteem, judges.  You could see conflict on Skylar’s face while she watched her brother sing.  She wanted to be happy for him, but was also a bit ticked that the judges had stolen her moment.  Here’s the thing, though – she was really good.  I actually liked her better than her brother.  She has a tremendous voice and I hope the judges give her her due in Hollywood.

Look – it’s a montage of people’s emotional pain and anguish at not making the cut.  Doesn’t that just make you all feel warm and fuzzy inside?

Our next hopeful was Lauren Mink.  Lauren works with adults who have learning or mental disabilities.  Usually, these tearjerker stories leave me a bit flat, but Lauren was different.  She seemed very genuine and heartfelt in her assertion that she “has the best job in the world”.  I have to respect that.  Oh – and she has a great country voice and got a ticket to Hollywood.

When Mawuena Kodjo began his segment by telling Ryan he was “going to try and sing Rascal Flatts”, I knew we were in trouble.  That and the fact he needed subtitles to get us through his broken English.  Where is the auto-tune enabled subtitler when you need it? After massacring the song, Mawuena was sent out to find someone in Savannah who thought he was a good singer.  He brought some kids and an old guy to vouch for him.  Thankfully – the judges held firm and didn’t put him through.

Ashlee Altise unveiled a new dance she had created for the audition.  It was meant to be enjoyed whether you were happy or stressed.  Not sure about you – but we did the same dance at my wedding.  It’s called the Chicken Dance.  I also have to ask – was that her hair or one of those fake dreadlock hats you can buy at Disney World?  Bad hair and questionable dance skills aside, the judges put her through to Hollywood.    

W.T. Thompson was a former prison guard who told us “I had to make a decision – a job or my dream.  I chose my dream.”  He quit his job in order to make the Idol auditions.  Very ballsy – especially when you consider that he has a wife who’s 6 months pregnant.  He didn’t get a yes from all three judges, but he got two, and that was enough to take him one step closer to his dream and one step further from the prison. 

Okay – anyone else get a bit uncomfortable watching teenage girls (and their moms), swooning over Steven Tyler in the last montage of the evening?  (And let’s not even talk about the mom who enlightened us all on Steven’s “10 inch Record”…)  I’ve said it once already – awkward… 

Erica Nowak showed us what you had to do to hold your own with Steven.  Let me just share a few select quotes from her audition. “He’s my future ex-husband.”  “The hell with the golden ticket, just give me a g-d-damn hug.”  “The best note you hit was when you grabbed my @ss.”   Enough said.

At this point, it was getting late and I was getting tired.  Thankfully, the show was drawing to a close.  Brittany Kerr was up next and I would recap her audition thusly – she was hot, her voice was okay, two yeses from the guys and she got a golden ticket.  Shockingly, Jennifer didn’t care for her.  That about covers it. 

The last audition of the night was from Phillip Phillips.  Yep – that was his name.  I thought – “apparently his parents weren’t very creative – or perhaps they were being cruel.”  Turns out it was neither.  His dad’s name was Phillip Phillips Sr. – so it must have been his grandparents who were lazy.  His parents were just derivative.  Anyway, enough about his name – how did he sound?  Pretty damn good.  He had a surprising amount of soul, channeling a bit of Joe Cocker during his performance.  Then….he broke out his country version of “Thriller”.  Holy cross-genre-inspiration Batman – it was amazing.  Simply amazing. Phillip exuded the confidence of true artist, comfortable with who he is and not afraid to take chances.  Good way to end the show.  He may be one to watch.

That was it.  Savannah was a wrap, and the journey to American Idol glory was officially underway.  Not a bad start.  Can’t wait to see what this season has in store for us.  Until then – Word Zombie out.

Tonight’s “Pearls of Wisdom” from Steven Tyler:

Savannah’s treatin’ me great – but I didn’t know you knew her…

This is the earliest I’ve ever been late.

It’s hot, humid, and happening – just like your daughter.

The best note you hit was when you grabbed by @ss…

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

1. I am a huge Star Wars fan.

2. Seeing movies on the big screen is almost always better than watching them at home.

3. 3D can be very cool if done correctly.  ILM usually does things correctly.

4. Notwithstanding point #3 above, I fully expect Jar-Jar to be even MORE annoying in 3D.

5.  My son has never seen the Star Wars films in the theater.  We will now be able to rectify that situation.

 6.  I’ll now have even more Star Wars posters to hang in the house.  My wife will LOVE that.

Speaking of posters, Lucasfilm has posted five new posters for the 3D release of Episode One.  Check them out after the jump…

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

Longtime fans of Rollins will be familiar with Sigma Force – a secret government agency populated with scientists, scholars, and soldiers.  They exist in the shadow world of covert operations and deal with situations of national security that fall outside of what most people would consider “business as usual”.  In “The Devil Colony”, Rollins again pits the principles of Sigma Force against the clock in a race to avert a potentially world altering catastrophe. 

I’m not sure I can distill the plot of “The Devil Colony” down to a nice, neat, and succinct paragraph or two – but I’ll give it a shot.  When an ancient Indian burial chamber is discovered, a priceless artifact begins a chain reaction that could result in the destruction of much of the United States.  Painter Crow, director of Sigma Force, is pulled into the burgeoning crisis by his niece, a Native American activist, and quickly discovers that The Guild (the dark Ying to Sigma Force’s Yang) also has an interest in the unfolding events.

While Painter races to find the roots of this impending disaster, Sigma Force operative Gray Pierce is thrown together with his one time nemesis Seichan, to track down clues left by Meriwether Lewis (of Lewis and Clark fame) that could shed light on the unfolding events.  As they follow the 200+ year old trail, they find a web of events involving Lewis and Thomas Jefferson that promise to lead them to a lost city in America – a city that not only is home to a lost American colony, but could also hold the key to averting catastrophe. 

Okay – now that I’ve written that, it doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what’s going on in the book.  Questions and answers, actions and reactions – they all swirl around each other to build the framework on which the story rests.  Fair warning – there will be a few minor spoilers in the next paragraph, so here is your chance to skip ahead.  Spoilers commence in 3,2,1…

At the heart of the novel are many intriguing questions.  Could there have been a tribe of “pale Indians” in ancient America, descended from one of the lost tribes of Israel?  How did those “pale Indians” relate to Mormonism?  How did the Indian nations influence the founding of our country, the writing of the Declaration of Independence, and the creation of things such as the Great Seal of the U.S.?  Why did Jefferson really send Lewis and Clark on their famous expedition to the West?  Could primitive tribes of Indians really have created metals and alloys using nanotechnology? Most importantly, how do all these things relate to one another?  You didn’t think I was going to tell you, did you?  You’ll have to read the book for answers…

Okay – spoilers are over.  Just had to get that out of my system.

Rollins rarely disappoints with his writing and this book is no exception.  It’s clear that he’s at home writing thrillers and he plays the conventions and conceits of the genre like a master violinist.  In some hands this story would have felt clichéd – a derivative amalgamation of disparate historical facts forced together to make a picture that refuses to come in to full focus.  Instead, Rollins crafts a tight narrative that had me hooked from the first pages and tearing through large chunks of the story at every available moment.   

As with most of his books, Rollins grounds the action in reality.  More than almost any other author today, he has the capacity to seamlessly meld fact with fiction and create a plausible world that could only exist within the implausible world of fiction.  I found that I learned a few things about American history I didn’t know before.  That alone would have been worth the price of admission, but to have Rollins weave them all together in such a skillful way – and have the entire narrative hum with cohesiveness – well that was just the icing on the proverbial cake for me.

Fans of the Sigma Force novels will find much to like in “The Devil Colony”.  All of your favorites are here – Painter, Grey, Monk, Seichen, Kowolski – it’s a comfortable group of old friends that guide you through the action.  My only complaint is that we didn’t get to spend as much time with the characters as I would have liked.  There was a lot going on in the book, but I still found myself wanting more time with everyone.

There is also a major development in the ongoing thread of The Guild contained in “The Devil Colony”.  I like series with a rich continuity and this book promises the beginning of a long awaited payoff as to the identity of The Guild and the reasons for its existence.  My one message to Mr. Rollins is this – let’s start answering some questions!  I like a world spanning, super secret cabal as much as the next reader – but I want to know a little more about them.  Grey and Painter aren’t getting any younger.  Neither am I, for that matter.

If you are new to James Rollins, I would suggest you start with “Amazonia” or “Map of Bones” – the first books in the Sigma series.  (It’s not imperative that you start there, but as is the case with most series, you will enjoy the richer tapestry and character history of the later novels if you lay the foundation in first.)  If you are a James Rollins fan, don’t hesitate to pick up “The Devil Colony”.  It delivers the same high-octane, historically based thriller you’ve come to expect over the last few years.   It took Rollins 2 years to write this novel and, while it was very much worth the wait, I hope we do not have to wait another two years to answer some of the questions raised in the last chapter of “The Devil Colony”.  It’s just getting interesting – I want to know what happens next. 

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

So what does that leave for 2012?  I’m glad you asked.  It’s going to be another exciting year (I hope), as long as those pesky Mayans are wrong.  I have lots more change coming my way, but also have lots more opportunity to try new things and embark on new adventures.  Just as last year, I’m going to put it all out there and trust you to hold me accountable for my success or failure.  Who knows, I might even remember to give a mid-year update this year.  I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. So, without further adieu, here’s my list for 2012.

• I’m not going to put a number on the amount of books I want to read this year.  Instead, I’ll just say that I want to read as many good and entertaining books as I can.  More importantly, however, is that I want to post reviews for EVERY book I read this year on the site.   It’s gotten too easy for me to find excuses not to write every day.  That ends now.

• At least once a month, call a friend.  Not because I need something – just to say hello and find out how they are doing.  Life’s too short and friends are too few.

• Eat more organic and/or local foods.  The more I read, the more I worry about what’s being put on the table by Big Agriculture.

• Spend more time telling my kids the things I wish I had known at their ages.  I know they won’t listen to me, but I’ll feel better about it later when I can tell them – “I told you so.”

• Celebrate Festivus the whole year round by participating in the “Airing of Grievances” on a regular basis.

• Learn to balance the need for humility with the need for decisiveness.  It’s a thin tightrope to walk, but the right balance will lead to success.

• Spend a few days in New York City.  Lunch at Hale and Hearty Soup, a show on Broadway, and a brownie from The Bread Company Café – that’s a good way to spend a day.  New York is a wonderful city, full of life and energy.  I could never live there – but it’s a great place to visit.

• Wake up.

• Share the following movies with my son – “Lord of the Rings”, “Teen Wolf”, and “Jurassic Park”.  That’s right – I said “Teen Wolf” (he’s not ready for “Grease 2” just yet…).   Don’t pretend like you don’t watch it every time it’s on TBS.

• Organize the clutter that is my “stuff” once we get moved.  I would have said “de-clutter”, but I’m going for things that are actually doable on this list – not things akin to parting the Red Sea.

• Only buy real Ketchup from now on.  I don’t know how they use cats in the manufacture of Catsup, but I rather doubt that it is a humane or particularly sanitary process.

• Watch less TV and spend more time playing games with my family.  The last two weeks have been great – we’ve all learned that Spicy Farkle isn’t just something you deal with after an exceptionally robust Mexican meal.

• Do something crazy.  Not – “I’m-shocked-he-seemed-like-such-a-nice-guy-film-at-11” crazy, but – “Wow-I-can’t-believe-I-did-that-and-why-didn’t-I-ever-do-it-before” crazy.

• Maybe, think about perhaps considering the possibility of potentially starting to exercise.  I realize that losing weight is not the same as being in shape.  I also realize that I really HATE to exercise – so we’ll just put this one in the “tentative” column for now.

• Let my wife know more often that I appreciate everything she does each day.  She’s the glue that holds our family together.

So there you have it, my “To Do” list for 2012.  Hopefully I can get better than ten crossed off the list this year.  It should be a fun ride – I’m glad you’re along for the journey.

© 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

11. “alt.punk” by Lavinia Ludlow

This is the book that surprised me most this year.  A disturbing and insightful exploration of the underside of relationships and personal awareness, my first reaction was -  “The story didn’t so much end as it simply bled out, lying in a pool of it’s own vomit on the cheap linoleum bathroom floor of a mobile home.”  But, as I let it marinate, I realized it would have been a gross disservice to the book to leave that as my final word.  They story stayed with me, and that says a lot. Ludlow has a raw voice that deserves to be heard.  (full review)

10. “Six Days” by Kelli Owen

“Six Days” was part of the inaugural trio of books released from Maelstrom Books.  There’s good reason Brian Keene chose to include Owen’s debut novel in the release.  It’s a gripping story that finds us trapped in a dark basement with Jenny Schultz.  With no further explanation, the narrative unfolds as Jenny struggles to figure out just what is going on.  It’s a smart move on Owen’s part and serves to create a claustrophobic cocktail of unease and uncertainty.  In today’s world of omnipotent narrators and worn out horror clichés, it’s refreshing in a very Chianti and fava beans sort of way. (full review)

9. “The Breach” by Patrick Lee

One of the most engrossing and original stories I’ve read.  From the moment Travis Chase stumbles across a downed 747 in the Alaskan wilderness containing the body of the first lady, to the final twists delivered in the book’s closing pages; this is a story that will not let you go.  Lee deftly weaves sci-fi with political intrigue and straight-up action in this thinking man’s thriller.  More than once I found myself caught flat-footed by a surprise turn, and the story hid its final secrets from me until the very end.  That’s worth the price of admission to me.

8. “30 Pieces of Silver” by Carolyn McCray

I discovered this book on Twitter via recommendation from author James Rollins.  What a great find.  A thought provoking and, to some, controversial take on the Religious Fiction genre, “30 Pieces of Silver” runs two concurrent stories – one detailing the relationship between Jesus and Judas and one taking you on a modern day quest to find Jesus’ bones.  The story is cinematic both in its ambition and execution.  It also has one of the most shocking and unexpected endings I’ve read in a very long time.  I can’t wait for the sequel.   (As a side note, “30 Pieces of Silver” is the second most widely read review on The Word Zombie.  Stay tuned for number one…) (full review)

7. “The Undertakers: Rise of the Corpses” by Ty Drago

This is the first young-adult Zombie I’ve read – and it’s a good one. Combining elements of “They Live”, “Percy Jackson”, and Brian Keene’s “The Rising” – it all comes together to give a fresh take on the zombie genre.  A group of kids is pulled together by their ability to see the “Corpses” – undead invaders that appear as normal people to most.  As they fight against potential invasion, Drago draws some subtle parallels between their struggle and the struggles we all face when crossing over from child to young adult.  I’m looking forward to the next installment in this series out in 2012.  (full review)

6. “Under Heaven” by Guy Gavriel Kay

Guy Gavriel Kay continues to raise the bar in historical fantasy literature.  A hauntingly beautiful and lushly realized society, based on Tang Dynasty China, forms the backdrop for this tale. Shen Tai has spent the last two years honoring his dead father by burying the unremembered dead from the last Great War between empires.  Presented with a gift of unimaginable value by his people’s enemies, Shen Tai is set on a course that intersects love and duty in the realm of emperors.  Epic in scope and lyrical in delivery, “Under Heaven” is yet another jewel in Gavriel Kay’s crown.

5. “Deadline” by Mira Grant

“Deadline” is the second installment in Grant’s Newsflesh Trilogy.  With the first book, “Feed”, Mira Grant established herself as a major new voice in zombie fiction.  With “Deadline”, she proves that “zombie” is a superfluous addition to that accolade.  Here she weaves a tale about government overreach, the value of truth, and the dangers of trading liberty for safety.  It’s a deeply layered and thought provoking exercise where the story comes first, the zombies second.  The zombies are merely the symptom of the disease, the result of the action, the recoil of the gun. Do yourself a favor – read this book. (full review)

4. “11/22/63” by Stephen King

“11/22/63” is one of the best books from Stephen King in years.  On its surface, it’s a story about time travel and one man’s journey to try and prevent the assassination of JFK.  It’s a look at early 60’s America – both the idyllic small town life of nostalgia and the turbulent political maelstrom of the newswires.   More than all of that, it’s a story about the choices we make, the paths we take, and the true value of love.  A special thanks goes to King’s son, Joe Hill, who – according to the afterword – suggested the emotionally resonate ending for the story.      

3. “Forbidden” by Ted Dekker and Tosca Lee

“Forbidden” is set in a world where almost all emotions have been genetically repressed, only fear remains – fear that is used by the government to keep the population under control.  It’s a compelling meditation on the dangers of centralized world government.  It explores the idea that – while human feelings and passions are messy, and people have a capacity for both good and evil – the alternative to that chaotic swirl of emotions is an antiseptic and bleak existence.  Like “Deadline”, this book will force you to consider what it really means to sacrifice freedom for security – even if that freedom is just the freedom to feel.  (full review)

2. “Full Black” by Brad Thor

At times nuanced and at other times blunt, Thor pulls no punches in deconstructing the broader adversaries aligned against us in the world today in “Full Black”. It’s a story about layers, and serves to lay the foundation for the continued evolution of both Thor as a storyteller and Scot Harvath as a character. Not a simple “stop the plot, save the world” story, “Full Black” is instead an intelligent examination of current events and a wake-up call for free thinking people everywhere. It may only be fiction, but it’s a book you should read.  Consider it an alarm clock.  We’ve hit the snooze button one too many times already.  It’s time to wake up. (“Full Black” is the most widely read review on The Word Zombie. Thanks Brad!) (full review)

1.     “Ready Player One” by Ernest Cline

In my review of “Ready Player One”, I wrote – “It may only be August, but I feel certain I’ve just read my favorite book of 2011.”  I was right.  Wade Watts is one of millions consumed with the virtual reality world of OASIS.  When its creator dies, he sets in motion an epic quest to unlock the secrets of the system.  The story is a love letter to all things pop culture from the 80’s – and it’s great fun.  It’s hard to imagine a book being more perfect for me.  It drew me in from the first chapter and whisked me along on a trip down memory lane.  So much of my childhood is represented in this book; it felt like putting on a comfortable pair of old blue jeans.  I realized about half way through that this is the book my 13 year-old self didn’t know he was preparing my 40 year-old self to love.  No doubt about it – best book of the year. (full review)

So there you have it – my 11 favorite books of the year.  Did I leave something off?  Disagree with the order I have them in?  Anything you think I need to read next year that will make the list?  I would love to know what you think.   Until then – Happy New year!

© 2011 – 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

This was probably the last year my son will believe in Santa Claus.  Truth be told, I think he may have figured it out already, but I can’t be sure.  Knowing this was likely the last year he would truly see Christmas through a child’s eyes, I couldn’t help but be a little melancholy.  Christmas will still be special – but something will never be the same for him after this year.  A piece of his youth will pass away into memory, and he’ll never be able to quite recapture that feeling again. 

It’s not until we are much older that we realize how special these times in our childhood really are.  I wish I had a way to let him know just how important these days are, but he’s a young man – he’s not really going to listen to his father in matters such as these.   Instead, I tried to soak up every single moment of the season for him and store them away for that day in the future when he finds himself searching for them. 

What I felt watching my son and daughter open presents that morning was something that’s hard to describe.  They were so excited to get downstairs and get started – and they both enjoyed the day to the fullest.  It wasn’t quite as crazy as it has been in years past, but we still made a deliciously massive mess of the living room.  The presents for my son are getting a little more expensive and a little more mature, but he still loves books and toys.  Now I’m finding the joy that comes with sharing the books with him that I read as a boy. 

Even as I see my son moving closer to young adulthood, my daughter is at the perfect age where Santa is a reality, Christmas is the pinnacle of the year, and the world narrows down to what present to open next. Her smile was non-stop for the entire day and her laughter warmed the house more than any fire ever could.  She had not a care in the world on Christmas.  I envy her in many ways.

When all the gifts were opened, the breakfast was eaten, and the chaos of the morning had settled into a more manageable flurry of activity – I found myself setting three things firmly in my memory for later.  First was pure innocence and happiness that was my daughter holding up her new Nintendo DS in the middle of the living room and screaming at the top of her lungs – “THANK YOU SANTA!”  Second was seeing the unbridled look of joy on my son’s face when opening gifts – a look that was as much a mirror of the boy he has been as it was a window into the young man that he is becoming.  Third was the simple hug my wife and I shared in the kitchen while cooking breakfast.  This was our 15^th Christmas as husband and wife and a hug can say more than I ever thought it could. 

Those were the memories I tucked away this year, and those are the memories I’ll share with my family in years to come as we sit around the table over the Holidays and swap stories.  Those are the memories that swirled around in my head and kept me sitting up on Christmas night.  It had been a remarkable day – one of the best – and I just didn’t want it to end. 

Like all things, however, it did end.  I eventually found that I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.  “Frosty the Snowman” somehow became “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” without my knowing.  No matter how hard I fought it, I just couldn’t stay up any longer.  The day had to end.  I extinguished the tree, turned off the stereo, blew out the pine-scented candle, went and kissed my kids goodnight again, and then went to bed.

Then a funny thing happened.  I woke up the next morning – and we had another great day.  We played games all morning, moving from one to the next at a breakneck speed.  We stayed in our pajamas all day again and watched movies. I spent the day today enjoying every single moment with my family, doing just what families are meant to do – be together. 

And that’s when it hit me.  As much as I wanted to hold onto to this year’s Christmas day, and the moments of belief that my children shared – I couldn’t.  Just like my parents couldn’t freeze those moments in time for my brother and I.  We grew up, we moved away, we had families of our own and, yes, we stopped believing in Santa Claus.  But we never stopped believing in our family.  We never stopped believing in all the good times we shared together.  We never stopped believing in Christmas. 

I know my son and daughter will also grown up, move away, and have families of their own. Do I look forward to that first year they aren’t there to open presents with us on Christmas morning?  No.  Do look forward to them understanding the joy that comes with sharing the spirit of giving with those you love – the fullness that comes with sharing the Holidays with your children?  Yes – with all my heart.

I realized that there is going to come a day, sooner than I would like, when their belief in Santa is going to fall by the wayside – and that’s okay.  I can’t stop the clock from ticking and I can’t stop today from passing into yesterday.  The truth is – Santa isn’t real.  But what he represents, is.  He’s a day of innocence, and belief, and giving that may come to a close at midnight on December 25^th each year, but doesn’t really ever end.  As long as my kids believe in themselves and the power of giving, Santa will always live in their hearts.  He’s the best of who we are.  And with that knowledge, I find I can sleep well at night and face any tomorrow that comes.  

© 2011 – 2012, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

I had one of those moments last week while on my way to the airport to catch a flight.  As I came barreling into the parking lot, “Hold On To The Nights” by Richard Marx came on the radio – and just like that, I was back in high school.  It was a moment that took me by surprise with its suddenness and intensity – and it brought my mad dash to the airport to a screeching halt.   

“Hold on to the Nights”

It was the Spring of 1988 and I was sitting in a rented limousine with a girl named Kelley on our way home from my Junior prom.  I can smell a whisper of the sparkling grape juice I spilled in the car earlier in the evening.  I can see the genuine faux leather seats and rope lighting in the limo.   I can feel the bow tie cinched around my neck – and I can remember being both amazed and terrified that the night was almost over. 

It had been quite an evening and quite a journey to get there.  I had had a major crush on Kelley my entire junior year.  We had spent lots of time together both in chorus class and in rehearsals for the school musical – “Oklahoma”.  Somehow or other I had mustered up enough courage to ask her to the prom, and – in a moment that took my breath away – she had said yes.

If I was anything back then, I was a product of pop culture, movies, and television.  If movies taught me anything in the late 80’s it was that the “grand gesture” was a great way to quickly initiate the inevitable music montage and get to the part of the story where you won the girl’s heart.  I wasn’t one to shy away from the “grand gesture.”  When all of our friends were pooling their money and looking for safety in numbers, I had rented a stretch limo for just the two of us.  I had the corsage.  I had a bottle of sparkling grape juice on ice.  At dinner, I even convinced the piano player at the restaurant to let me play a song for her. Yes – I went all out.

I don’t remember much about the actual prom itself.  I’m sure we danced, I’m sure we laughed, and I’m sure we had fun.  I have the picture of us to prove it and pictures don’t lie.  There we were – tux with tails, pink dress, smiling eyes – together.  Looking back now, I’m sure the night was at times awkward and not nearly as magical as it seemed.  At the time, however, it was everything I could have asked for.

All too quickly, the night was over and we found ourselves back in front of Kelley’s house.  I walked her to the front door and found myself in another of those movie moments I had seen so many times before.  Should I kiss her or should I not?  After all those months standing in that same spot in my dreams, I was now overwhelmed by the realness of it. 

The seconds felt like hours of indecision before I finally leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek.  It was terrifying, disappointing, and exhilarating all at the same time.  I was young and, in some ways, still painfully shy.  It wasn’t the romantic Cameron Crowe moment I had wanted, but summoning the courage to give her that peck on the cheek stretched the limits of what my heart could stand.

We said our good nights and I walked back to the limo.  Our driver let me hop into the front seat – that back seemed cavernous and empty without someone to share it with.  My mind was racing and my head was running the last 5 minutes over and over again in a constant loop.  He turned on the radio and as we drove off, on came “Hold On To The Nights”.  I didn’t say a word as I sat and listened to the song:

            Hold on to the nights

            Hold on to the memories

            I wish that I could give you more,

            That I could be yours.

It wasn’t a long drive from Kelley’s house to mine, but it was long enough for the song to play itself out and bounce around inside my mind.  The limo driver looked over at me as we pulled into my neighborhood and came to a stop in my driveway.  He’d had a front row seat to my uncertain good night kiss earlier and could see I was back there on Kelley’s front porch. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“The best,” I replied.

“You really like her, don’t you,” he said.  It was much more a statement than a question.

“Yeah. I really do.”

He looked at me again and gave me some advice.

“Then enjoy the night.  That’s all that matters.”

He had no way of knowing how right he was.  Kelley and I had never really “dated” before the prom and we never really “dated” after it either.  We stayed friends, we spent time together, and we had fun in each other’s company.  We shared our thoughts, our dreams, and in some way our hearts – but it never really became anything more.  Our lives circled each other, almost dancing at times, but the timing of the emotion was just never right.  (In the end, that was okay.  She wasn’t “the one” – but that’s a different story – a different song.)

Still, I wonder sometimes if things would have been different if I had had the courage to really kiss her that night. Would we have dated?  Would we have gone to another prom?  What if I could go back and change that one moment of indecision?  I’ll never know the answers to those questions, and when I ask them – I realize the answers don’t really matter.  Whether I kissed her or not, what really matters is that I asked her to go to the prom with me in the first place.  What matters is that I saw a path in my heart that led from an unspoken crush to limousines and dancing and I followed it.  What matters is that I took a chance, put myself out there, and for that one night – I got the girl.

As I walked into the airport and boarded my plane, I thought a lot about all the other songs that have marked events in my life.  Some momentous, some trivial – but all of them important to me in one way or another.  Do you have songs like that in your life – songs that can stop you in your tracks and bring either a smile to your face or a tear to your eye?  Music can be both strange and wonderful in the way it takes your mind down paths neither recently nor routinely traveled.  Embrace those songs – embrace those moments.  You can’t go back and change the past, but there is nothing that says the radio can’t take you back for a visit every now and again. 

Join me next time and I’ll revisit my high school talent show, courtesy of “Honestly” by Stryper.

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

• I’m thankful for the new opportunities and challenges I’ve been given this year.  I’m not one to enjoy standing still – it’s good to have motion in my life.

• I’m thankful for the support of my family and friends.  Those new opportunities have come with a healthy dose of change – and without the support of those closest to me, I wouldn’t have even considered them.

• I’m thankful that my wife has a love of scrapbooking.  She is capturing so many moments, both large and small, that we will be able to savor again and again like a fine wine in our old age.

• I’m thankful for the time I got to spend with my grandfather before he passed away this year.  Saying goodbye is never easy – but it’s far better than not getting the chance to say anything at all.

• I’m thankful for the light in my daughter’s eyes as she greets me at the door when I get home from work each night.  It always makes my day better.

• I’m thankful for books.  I am still able to lose myself in them every single day.  They open up new worlds to me, provide me with an escape when I need it most, and make me think about the world around me.  They’ve helped me meet some very cool people over the last 18 months.

• I’m thankful for my grandmother’s strawberry cake.  It is, quite possibly, the perfect food.

• I’m thankful for afternoons working on piano with my son.  He doesn’t always enjoy it (especially my clapping to keep him in tempo), but sharing music with him brings me great joy.

• I’m thankful for warm blankets on a cold winter’s morning and cool sheets on a hot summer’s night.

• I’m thankful for my freedom.  Okay, you’re right – this one was on last year’s list as well – but it’s so important, it bears repeating.  Without freedom, we’re all just colorful paper puppets dancing at the end of someone else’s strings.   

Take a moment and think about all you have to be thankful for this year.  You may find it’s more than you thought.  I hope all of you have a wonderful and happy Thanksgiving.  Enjoy the food, the family, the friends, and the football!

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

She’s always been artistic (she designed the logo for thewordzombie.com), and now she’s throwing her hat into the writing and reviewing ring.  Not really knowing what blogging is about, she still wanted to “review” a few books for me and have them posted.  As a father – how could I resist? So, without further ado – here are the first two book reviews by my daughter – or, as she told me she would like to be known here – “Little Miss Chocolate Zombie”.

“Elf”

“Elf” is a story about Buddy the Elf.  My favorite part was when he reached the tallest branches on the tallest Christmas tree.  It was really funny when he carried a bunch of candy canes.  I didn’t like it when Buddy left Papa elf for a while. 

I learned the being different from everyone is what makes you, you.  “Elf” is a good Christmas book.   You should read it.

“Unlovable”

“Unlovable” is about a dog named Alfred.  The cat tells him that he is unlovable. I didn’t like it when the cat taught the parrot to say “unlovable”.

My favorite part was when the new people moved in next door to Alfred. Alfred’s next-door neighbor is a dog like him named Rex.  At first, Alfred told Rex he was a Golden Retriever because he though he was unlovable.  Rex dug a hole under the fence so he could play with Alfred.  I liked it when Alfred and Rex played together.

The story showed me that even when someone says you are unlovable, you CAN be lovable.  I think Alfred is lovable.  He is really cute when he eats and sleeps.  He has a cute curly tail.

You should read this book.  It will teach you a lot of different things.  I learned that you should stay away from people who are mean to you. 

And there you have it.  The first is what could be a long string of hard-hitting reviews from “Little Miss Chocolate Zombie”.  Let me know what you think – I’ll pass the feedback along to her.  I would just caution you to be nice.  She has quite a temper and holds a grudge for a LONG time.  She is, after all, her father’s daughter.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

Two things have conspired to keep me away from the keyboard over the last month.  They are both good in their own right, but not so good for the flow of content to The Word Zombie.  The first has to do with my job.

Last week, I accepted a new position at work.  After starting there 18 years ago as an unpaid intern, I’ve just been promoted to the head of sales for the US and Canada.  It’s been a long and exciting journey, but the new job will require that I relocate my family to Los Angeles.

That wasn’t a decision or decision making process my wife and I took lightly.  Both of my children are now in school.  Having myself lived in the same house from the day I started kindergarten until a few months after I graduate college, having my kids deal with changing schools again was not something I looked forward to.  Add to that the pressure of finding good schools in LA and it made for a lot of late night discussions.

We’re not new to relocation – we’ve done three times before.  Still, it’s stressful.  There is a lot you have to do.  Some things go well and some things don’t.  Selling a house is never fun, even in a good economy and housing market.  I’m not sure if you’ve read the news lately – we don’t have either right now.

That being said, the job is a great opportunity both for my family and I.  It’s something I really wanted to do, and to her credit, my wife supported me – just as she’s always done.  So, we made the decision to take the job and relocate.  It was announced last week and now the wheels have all been set in motion for a move.

During all the conversations over the past few weeks, all the late nights doing research on the internet, and all the pitches to my kids on how cool California is – I found it hard to focus on writing.  It was hard to find the time and, quite frankly, I gave myself permission to let the blog slip while we where making our decision.  Right or wrong – that was the choice I made.  Now, however, everything has been decided and I can’t give myself a free pass any longer.  I need to write.  So, here I am – writing about why I haven’t been writing.  Ironic much?

The second reason I haven’t written much has to do with what I’ve been reading.  I have a few reviews I need to catch up on, but about 5 weeks ago I dove headlong into a tremendous series of books and haven’t been able to put them down. I’ve literally been finishing one book and picking up the next in the series within minutes.  I’ve been so consumed with reading them; I haven’t even begun to think about how to review them.  I wanted to finish the series first.

What are the books you ask?  They are the Repairman Jack novels and the Adversary Cycle novels by F. Paul Wilson.  Between both series there are 21 books, telling the “secret history of the world”.  The final Repairman Jack novel was published in October and a revised version of the last book in the Adversary Cycle is due to be published early next year.  When I get finished with the last Repairman Jack book I’ll share all my thoughts on the entire Repairman Jack series.  Next year, I’ll recap the Adversary Cycle after “Nightworld” is published again.  I promise.

I’ll have a lot of time on airplanes in the coming months – time I plan to spend reading, writing, and also sleeping.  As I said, I still have a lot to say.  I’ll have new content up more regularly over the coming weeks.  In fact, to get things back on track, my daughter has graciously agreed to provide reviews for two books she’s recently enjoyed.  (She’s just learning to read and is excited to be joining the blogosphere.)  They’ll be posted by the end of the week.

Again, let me apologize for the sorry state of the blog over the past month.  I don’t take a single reader of The Word Zombie for granted.  You are gracious enough to spend a small portion of your day here with me; I owe you a small portion of my day spent writing in return.  Thank you all for your patience and your understanding.  Talk to you soon.   

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

On a flight to Los Angeles this week, I had taken my seat and was getting settled in for the trip.  I’m a quirky traveler, but I have a system that works for me.  I pulled out my iPhone and headphones and dialed up my “Plane Music” playlist.  I took my book and a thermos of hot tea (brewed after the security checkpoint, of course), and put them in the seat pocket in front of me.  I checked my Blackberry, answered a few messages, and then turned it off for the flight.  All systems checked out – I was ready to go.

As the flight attendant began her spiel, I only half paid attention.  About two thirds of the way through, she said something that caught my ear.

“Due to new regulations, you may not place any personal items in the seat pocket in front of you during taxi, takeoff, or landing.”

I did a brief double take, and then chuckled to myself.  “That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.  She must be mortified to have to recited such tripe.”  I felt bad for her for a second.

As I closed my eyes to get a bit of rest (this was an early morning flight – not my favorite), I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir.  I need for you to remove everything from your seat pocket for taxi, takeoff, and landing.”

I looked at her incredulously.  Surely she had to be kidding.  What POSSIBLE reason could there be to actually take everything out of the seat pockets?  Airline security? Cosmic balance? Would the plane not taxi, takeoff, or land properly with my paperback book and hot tea in the seat pocket?  Would that extra 10 ounces of weight throw off the pilot’s ability to navigate the runway system?

I continued to stare at her until it became clear she wasn’t joking and wasn’t going away either.  I shrugged and pulled my items from the seat pocket, placing them in my lap.  Evidently having the items located in my lap was enough to restore order to the Universe, and the helpful flight attendant moved on.

As I sat there shaking my head, I thought about the absurdity of the exchange I had just had.  Who took the time to formulate such a pointless rule?  How did they determine that a barf bag, an American Way magazine, and a Skymall magazine could safely travel in the seat pocket without disrupting the delicate balance of a 737, but adding a copy of “Gateways” by F. Paul Wilson (good book, by the way), would tip the balance over into the area of “potential flight hazard”?

Instead of taking the time to make stupid rules such as these, why don’t the Nice Men Behind The Scenes institute a few rules for the traveling public that actually make sense?  Things that we could all agree on and heartily support?  To help them out, I’ve compiled a handy and easy to use list of the top 12 rules airlines and airports SHOULD institute.

1.  Every passenger should be allowed to take one cup of coffee and/or tea with them through the new full body scanners in airports.  If you are going to subject yourself to dangerous levels of radiation (and a frightening loss of privacy and dignity), you should at least be able to microwave your morning java while you microwave yourself. 

2.  To board a plane, you must have showered in the last 24 hours.  Planes are small, enclosed places.  The Pigpen-like cloud of body odor swirling around may not bother you, but I assure you – it’s concerning for the other 200+ passengers on the plane.  If you can see the funk radiating off your body like the heat rising off Georgia asphalt during the summer, either take a shower or stay home.

3.  A plastic bag from the big box retailer of your choice is not an acceptable form of carry-on luggage.  I know you may not fly that often, but one of the requirements of flying is owning actual luggage.  A plastic bag will not do.  We don’t need to see the clothes you’re taking on your trip to Paducah.  We don’t need to know how many pairs of flip-flops you own.  We don’t need to know what type of deodorant you use (evidently not effectively – but that’s another story).  Get a suitcase.  Get a backpack.  Get something made of canvas with a zipper.

4.  If you can’t roll your bag down the aisle, you can’t bring it on the plane.  It’s just simple physics.  Don’t waste our time and delay our departure trying to manhandle a full steamer trunk down the aisle.  Furthermore – if, by chance, you get it down the aisle, don’t stand there acting perplexed that it won’t fit into the overhead bin.  And, no – taking the newspaper out of the outside pocket is NOT enough to make it fit.

5.  You are not allowed to speak to anyone wearing headphones and/or reading a book, except in cases of extreme emergency.  When a person is reading, listening to their iPod, sleeping, or some combination of all three – they are NOT interested in talking to you.  They don’t want to hear about your trip so far.  They don’t want to hear about your aunt Bertha’s ongoing battle with bunions.  They don’t want to swap recipes for your “to-die-for sardine hummus”.  They want to read, listen to music, and/or sleep – all while pretending you don’t exist.  Don’t make it awkward.  

6.  Parents whose children refuse to refrain from kicking the seat in front of them will be required to sit with said child in the lavatory for the duration of the flight.  I paid for the seat I’m sitting in.  I’m trying to sleep.  I don’t need little Suzy using my seat as the kick drum in her own private Wiggles concert. I understand that you can’t always control what your kids do.  BUT – once they’ve started kicking my seat, I expect you, as a parent, to make them stop.  Immediately.  If not, you can spend the rest of the flight entertaining them with the swirly blue whirlpool.  

7.  The seat in front of you is NOT a pull bar to be used in leveraging your 450-pound caboose out of your seat to waddle to the bathroom.  I would refer you to rule number #6.  I paid for the seat I’m sitting in.  I’m trying to sleep.  When you decide you need to get up during the flight, the back of my seat is not designed to assist you in prying your massive posterior out of your seat – nor is it an anchor for you to cling to as you shoehorn yourself back into your seat like someone putting 5 pounds of Jell-O in a 2 pound bag.

8.  No matter what the temperature is, or what your final destination is, ALL men and women will be required to wear undergarments.  NO EXCEPTIONS (even if you’re hot).  This one seems pretty self-explanatory.  I don’t need to know you in that way.  Not now.  Not ever.

9.  Headphones must be worn if you are playing a hand held video game.  If little junior is too young to wear headphones on the plane, he’s too young to be playing his Nintendo DS.  I enjoy Mario Kart as much as the next person – but not at 40,000 feet, and not from 2 rows away.

10.  Hats should be stowed on your head, not in the overhead bins.  If you think you are cool enough to rock a cowboy hat while flying to Des Moines, I think you are cool enough to wear it for the entire flight.  The overhead bins are for luggage, not headgear. 

11.  No one is allowed to open an air vent unless it is aimed directly at him or her.   Just because you want a cooler “ambiance” in your seating area, doesn’t mean I want a jet stream of arctic air blowing across my seat and numbing the skin on top of my head as I sit in front of you. 

12.  Once the plane arrives at the gate, all passengers sitting in an aisle seat must immediately stand up.  When we land, and I’ve been stuck in a window seat, it won’t kill you to stand up in the aisle so I can have 6 inches of extra space for my elbows.  I didn’t want to sit next to you in the first place – every extra minute you spend sitting there is torture (especially if you are a violator of rules #2 or #8).

I know none of these suggestions will contribute to airline safety in as meaningful a way as the “nothing in the seat pockets” rule – but I think they are regulations we can all rally behind and they would dramatically increase the comfort level of the flying public.  Will they save a plane from the certain doom inherent in filling the seat pockets with books, magazines, and water bottles?  No.  But at least passengers wouldn’t have to face that certain doom while being annoyed at those around them.

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

This past week I had two trips, back to back.  One was a sales meeting for work and one was a mini family vacation to the Great Wolf Lodge waterpark resort.  Besides being completely exhausted, I again managed to learn a few things along the way.  Since it’s been over two weeks since I posted anything, I thought I would get back in the swing by sharing a few of the pearls of wisdom I’ve gleaned during my most recent travels.  Enjoy!

• When you open the new gates at a small regional airport, I really don’t think you need to post signs to warn the flying public of the new 1 MINUTE AND 20 SECOND walk to the new gates.  I know it’s a terrible inconvenience to have to walk for an entire 80 seconds to get to the gate, so don’t advertise it.  You’ll only anger the sheeple.

• I need to get a privacy screen for my laptop.  Some people are just too nosey.  I hope the lady who sat next to me on the plane last Monday enjoyed reading my Facebook updates.  She sure seemed interested in them.

• When the restaurant has a board posted on the wall detailing all of the available shots and a group of your co-workers decides to “drink their way through the list” – be afraid.  Be very afraid. 

• Losing weight and eating right do not mix well with business or vacation travel.  Much more on that later.

• If, however, pork rinds are one of the high protein snacks you are allowed to eat – you should take full advantage of them.  When you find one in the bag that still shows a bit of blue ink from the tattoo on the pig – throw it out the car window, pretend you never saw it, and never speak of it again (except on your blog). Don’t let a tattoo ruin your vacation.  (Sound advice, on many levels…)

• Staying at a water park resort during off-season is great – there are very few crowds – but there is a downside.  No crowd means you get to walk right up to the top of the waterslides.  Right up all seven flights of stairs.  No waiting.  No standing still.  No catching your breath.  Vacations aren’t supposed to be exercise.

• Some people have no business wearing a bikini to a public water park.  I’ll just leave it at that – I don’t want to have the dry heaves again.

• Yes, the prizes at the hotel arcade are cheap – you could buy something far nicer with the $60 dollars you spent on tokens.  Sometimes, however, the fun of earning the prize tickets with your kids is worth far more than the money you spend.  (Plus, with enough prize tickets, your son can get an enormous and truly impressive whoopee cushion.)

• My daughter has a way of cutting to the chase and getting at the essence of something.  She’s dubbed the aforementioned whoopee cushion a “fart bag”.  She has her father’s gift for words.

While all of these nuggets are interesting, some things you learn require a little more context –a little more meat on the bone.  They just don’t fit in a nice neat bullet pointed list.  To truly appreciate the full, life changing import of the moment, you really need to live through it with me…

My Father is fulfilling his duties as Grandpa exceptionally well

My parents love being grandparents.  My dad, in particular, has taken the role to a new level.  Not only does he hand out dollar bills to the grandkids like they were Gatorade cups at the Boston Marathon, he also keeps them all guessing about whether his tall tales are serious or if he’s just pulling their leg.

While my family and I were in Kansas City, we found there was a Bob Evans restaurant just across the street from our hotel.  If you haven’t been to a Bob Evans, it’s one of the best breakfasts you will find – anytime of day.  It also happens to be one of my father’s favorite places to eat.

As we were getting the kids ready to head out for breakfast, my daughter did NOT want to sample the morning repast at Bob Evans.  My daughter is not a big fan of new things, or change in general.  Getting her to try new restaurants and/or new food is an exercise of equal parts persuasion and threats.  On this particular morning, I decided to lead with persuasion.

“You’ll like Bob Evans,” I said.  “They have great pancakes”.

“I don’t want pancakes.”

I countered with, “They also have great bacon.”  (It’s hard to go wrong with bacon.)

“I don’t want their bacon.”

Not wanting to give up on the persuasion too quickly, I decided to pull out the Grandpa card.  My daughter adores my father, and I’m not above using that to manipulate her – if the occasion warrants it.

“Bob Evans is one of Grandpa’s favorite restaurants.  You’ll love it.”

Ha – I’ve got her now.  No way she can resist that. Bob Evans, here we come, I thought.  But as I looked at her, I could see a look of pure revulsion and fear storming across her face.

“Yuck,” she said seriously.  “Grandpa only likes restaurants that serve squirrel.”

It was all I could do to not lose it right then and there.  She was so serious and so earnest in her belief that Grandpa only liked places that served squirrel.  I realized, in that moment, what a master my father is at the Grandpa game.  I can only hope I will be half the Grandpa he is, someday.  Well done, Dad.

Persistence and logic will occasionally pay off – even when dealing with fools

I have been on a pretty strict diet and eating program for most of this year.  I’ve managed to lose 65 pounds so far (more on that at the end of the year), and feel better than I have in years.  The only downside has been trying to stick to the program and eat correctly when I travel.  For this trip, I was entering a maintenance phase of the program, so I had more options when it came to eating.  I still tried to avoid carbs and sugar, but I thought it would still be easy.  I was wrong.

I made it through most of my sales meeting without major program or outright falling off the eating bandwagon.  On Wednesday, however, I faced a significant challenge – and it wasn’t just the food.

As we all went to dinner that night, I had to take a call.  It went a little long, so I was the last person to make it through the buffet line.  We had the entire corporate commissary to ourselves that night and had contracted with them to cater the event. As I made my way to the line, it was a short four chafing dishes long.  The first dish was bread.  Pass.  The second dish was broccolini in some sort of butter like substance.  Not a fan.  The third dish was a massive pile of macaroni and cheese.  Now, I like the occasional mac and cheese dish – but you would be hard pressed to get any further from “low carb”, so that was out.  My hopes where pinned on the last dish.  Surely it was a protein I could eat.

I approached the dish, peered into its depths, and saw the silver bottom staring back at me.  There was nothing there.  Just a lonely sign beside it proclaiming the lost protein had been “Chicken”.  I didn’t even know what kind of chicken it was.  All I knew was it was gone, and I was out of luck.

Don’t panic, I thought to myself.  You’re an adult.  There is a way out of this.  Just remain calm, don’t panic, and don’t run screaming for the exits.  It was at this point I spotted the Food Services manager milling about in the dining area.  Bingo!  I’ll just go ask her to help me out.

I made my way over to her and politely asked, “Excuse me.  Could you let me know when there will be some more chicken in the serving line?”

“We’re all out of chicken.”

“Pardon me?  You’re out of chicken?”

“Yes,” she said with a slightly vacant stare that gave me cause for concern, “we were told there would be 80 people, so that’s all we prepared for.”

“You mean you don’t have any more chicken in the back?”

“No sir.  We are all out of chicken.  There is some broccolini left.  I hear it’s to die for.”

Again, I cautioned myself.  Don’t panic.  Don’t lose your cool.  There is a way out of this.  Just explain your situation.

“Ma’am, I’m on a very strict diet and I can’t eat the mac and cheese.  I’m not sure that broccolini would really constitute a meal for me.  Could you just prepare a few more chicken breasts, or tenders, or even nuggets?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again with the same robotic, welcome-to-the-DMV voice,  “we’re all out of food.”

It was at this point I began to realize I was not dealing with one of the winners of life’s lottery in the brains department.

“You’re out of food?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t this a restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“Does it have a kitchen in the back?”

“Yes.”

“Does the kitchen have any food in it?”

“We’re all out of food, sir.  We only prepared for 80 people.”

“But is there any food in the kitchen?”

“We’re all out of food sir.”

“Do you get food deliveries every single morning with EXACTLY enough food for just that day?”

“We’re all out of food, sir.”

“Really?  REALLY?” (At this point, my temper was definitely starting to get the better of me.) “You don’t have anything in the entire restaurant?  Not even an apple?  I would be happy with an apple.  Just one small apple.”

“I’m sorry sir, we’re all out of food.”

That was the point at which I snapped.  I have the physical ability to absorb six inane comments like “we’re out of food” from anyone.  The seventh one, however, is my limit.  I am incapable of surviving seven consecutive mindless comments.  I blew a gasket and started to yell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!  This is a functioning restaurant.  At my house, we have two marvelous inventions.  Perhaps you’ve heard of them – the pantry and the refrigerator?  They give you the godlike ability to STORE FOOD.  I can actually keep food from one day to the next and EAT IT LATER.  I may fix dinner at 7:30, and then decide I want a snack at 10:30.  Guess what?  I HAVE MORE FOOD IN THE HOUSE!  I just go the refrigerator and GET A FREAKING APPLE.  IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK OF YOU – A FOOD SERVICE PROFESSIONAL?? ONE FREAKING APPLE??”

I’m not sure if it was my superior reasoning skills or the volume of my voice, but I saw a small spark in her eyes.  It could have been understanding or it may have just been fear.  I don’t know.  Either way, she held up one finger as if to say “A-ha!”, then turned on her heels and made a beeline for the kitchen.  3 minutes later, she returned with a freshly cut apple on a shiny white porcelain plate.  I gave her a quick thumbs up, thanked her for her herculean efforts in securing the apple, and sat down to try and enjoy it.  It was mushy.

As soon as we got back to the hotel, I sat down at the bar and ordered a large cheeseburger.  It was delicious.

Persistence and logic will occasionally pay off – even when dealing with fools: Part 2

The last night of a sales meeting is always a delicate balance.  You want to have fun, you want to eat a good meal, and you want to share time with your co-workers – but you also want to be prepared for the 5:15 shuttle to the airport the next morning.

On the last night of our sales meeting, we again rented out an entire restaurant for the group.  Since this was a public restaurant, we had a fixed menu to choose from – not a buffet.  “Great,” I thought, “this will be SO much better than last night.”

As I perused the menu, not a lot was jumping out at me – fish and chips (deep-fried), Mac and Cheese (again with the Mac and Cheese?  Is there some sort of cheese and pasta renaissance happening that I’m unaware of?), Turkey Burgers with blue cheese (blue cheese – no thanks).  Then I found my solution – a barbecue cheeseburger.  Perfect.  Just lose the barbecue sauce and I would be all set.

The perky waitress came to our table and began to take our order.  As it snaked around to me, I politely said –

“I would like the barbecue burger, but could you hold the barbecue sauce please?”

“I’m sorry, but we aren’t making any modifications to the dishes tonight.  It’s a fixed menu.”

The cold fingers of déjà vu began to wrap themselves around my stomach.   “I’m sorry?”

“We aren’t doing any modifications tonight, it’s a fixed menu.”

“I understand, but I’m on a very strict eating program.  Could you just leave off the barbecue sauce?”

“We aren’t modifying any dishes tonight.”

“But if you douse the burger in sugar-laden barbecue sauce, I’m not going to be able to eat it.”

“We aren’t modifying any dishes tonight.”

Given the events of the night prior, I knew right away I wouldn’t make it to the seventh inane comment by Flo the Helpful Waitress before I lost my cool.  I could already feel the sarcasm seeping up from the pit of my stomach and preparing to unleash itself on this poor, unsuspecting soul.

Don’t get me wrong.  I can understand the need to have a standardized menu for a large group.  It allows the kitchen to get food out in a timely manner.  But there has to be a bit of sanity involved.  I had only requested that they leave off the barbecue sauce, not remake the burger with ground veal, dress it with thin sliced Vidalia onions, and top it with ketchup made by Peruvian children from tomatoes personally picked by the eldest daughter of the village’s leader.

“Are the burgers already made?” I asked, with just the barest hint of annoyance.

“No sir, they are made to order in the back.”

“Great.  Here’s what I would like for you to do.  Walk back to the kitchen and put in my order for a barbecue burger.  Watch them while they cook it, put it on the bun, and add the onions and lettuce.  As soon as the chef grabs the squirt bottle of barbecue sauce, yell STOP! at the top of your lungs.   When the chef jumps back and looks at you like you’re crazy, grab the plate and run it back out here – sans barbecue sauce.  Do you think you can handle that?  Or would you prefer to be the one to call the paramedics when I pass out later from a lack of food?”

“Let me see what I can do,” she said sheepishly, and turned to head back in to the kitchen.

About 10 minutes later she returned with all of our food.  Lo and behold, my burger had nothing on it but cheese.  There was not a drop of barbecue sauce to be seen.  I thanked her and proceeded to dig in.  It was a good burger – almost as good as the satisfaction I felt from, again, standing up to The Man.  Power to the People.

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.

Facebook can be a remarkable thing.  It gives you quick access to updates from your family.  It makes it easy to find embarrassing pictures of your friends from high school.  It can suck endless hours out of the day as you quest for jewels, build mafia empires, or create your perfect farm.  It can also, on occasion, give you the opportunity to help someone in need.  This is one of those times.

Last Friday, I got a message from one of my old friends.  I went to high school with both she and her husband, and we reconnected a few years ago on Facebook.  She was reaching out to see if there was anything I could do to help out with one of her husband’s coworkers, a man named Matt Braswell.  Both her husband and Matt work as firefighters, and in a cruel moment of irony – Matt’s house burned down while he was on duty last week.  As she told me his story, I knew that I had to find some way, however small, to help.

I’ve learned a lot about Matt and his family this week.  Matt is 26 years old.  He and his wife Tracy have three kids: son Jacob – age 10, son Leighton – age 3, and daughter Kenley – age 2.  He is a veteran of the Marine Corps and has been a Gwinnett County firefighter for the last 3 years.  While he was on duty last week in Gwinnett, the family’s home in Douglasville was completely destroyed by a fire.  Luckily, no one was injured – but the family lost everything.

Matt is an avid reader – a passion he has passed along to his son Jacob.  Matt is a sci-fi fan, and loves Star Wars and zombies (he’s a man after my own heart).  I’m told it’s not uncommon to find him engrossed in his latest book at the firehouse when the day’s work is finished.  Jacob has picked up his dad’s love of reading, and is also a budding artist.

When the fire devastated their home, it destroyed all of Matt’s and Jacob’s books, along with all of Jacob’s drawing books, supplies, and sketchpads.  As you know, I’m an avid reader and lover of books.  They have been my constant companions since I first learned to read.  They have provided me solace, inspiration, entertainment, and education when I needed it most.  The thought of losing all my books – my friends – it would just be devastating.  I don’t know Matt and his family personally, but I do know that no one who loves to read should ever be without books.  The firefighting community is helping the Braswell family with donations and the necessities they need – but there is still more that can be done.

When my friend contacted me, she said she wasn’t sure why she did it – she just felt like she should.  As soon as I got her message, I knew why she had that feeling – I needed to try and help this family.  They say the Lord works in mysterious ways.  Sometimes that’s true.  Sometimes, you just need to listen and you’ll find it’s not so mysterious after all.  Sometimes he just wants you to do the right thing.

That’s where you and I come in – I’m asking you for your help.  Do you have a few sci-fi or children’s books around the house you don’t need anymore?  Do you have a few extra dollars that could be used to purchase an Amazon gift certificate?  Do you have a sketchbook or some old art supplies you aren’t using?  If so, I ask you to join me in donating them to the Braswell family.  The love of books is a powerful bond we all share, and you can help me help them start to rebuild their book collection.

As I mentioned before, luckily no one was hurt in the fire.  The Braswell family lost all of their possessions, but possessions can be replaced – the important thing is that they still have each other.  None of us can take away the loss and the pain they feel, but if just one book can help Matt, Tracy, Jacob, Leighton, or Kenley find a few moments of laughter, or joy, or escape in the days and weeks ahead – well, I would like to think that would make the world just a little bit better place.

If you have something you would like to donate, here is the address:

Gwinnett County Fire Station #14

1600 Buford Hwy.

Buford, GA 30518

Attn: Matt Braswell

Thank you for your help and God bless you.

© 2011, The Word Zombie. All rights reserved.