"And Stay By My Side 'Til Morning Is Nigh."

I got up and started a pot of coffee like I always do. The morning routine always messes with my trend of thought. It's true what a friend said to me about the darkness before the dawn. Lying awake staring at what would be the bedroom ceiling, if I could see it, was, she said, her most productive time.

I agree. But today I race to scribble down bits and pieces of an emotion I know will be fleeting.

The guy really wasn't a great guitarist though in most of the photos I saw had him thumbing a big, badass Fender bass. I realized as I watched him strum an acoustic three chord riff devoid of any seventh note in the turnaround, that I didn't really know him all that well.

I met the man through his partner who, over the many years, came by to repair, reroute or replace our home entertainment system. Every time he entered our master bedroom with a smile he'd ask if I still played.

"Not like I used to man," I said. "My heart just ain't into it much anymore!"

"That's a shame," he'd reply. You really should start again, ya know? It's good for the soul!"

A week or so ago, I pulled out my Fender Mustang and started in on some tunes that I used to play well. Many of them were Christmas songs of the traditional non "Keep Christ in your Christmas" type. I hadn't play in so long my finger tips were no longer callous enough to play for very long.The days of playing till my fingers bled were last since gone, but my intention was to get my fingers strong enough to join him with my acoustic guitar to play some swamp music. I knew that he liked Creedence Clearwater Revival. I thought that it would be a nice surprise and some fun.

Every day for over a month, my friend would video tape himself playing and singing a gospel song. I told him how much I enjoyed his daily performance, but not being into gospel music, was amazed at how many songs there really are to sing. And, he sang them very well and pretty much from memory.

My fractured thinking isn't strong enough to put down in words this feeling of great loss. Casey's last performance was a few days ago when he sang the lyrics to a well known Christmas song... "Away in a Manger". His voice was still quite strong, though it wavered and cracked as he sang Christmas greetings to everyone on the eve of His birth. At 2:40 am, December 29th, Casey's gospel song book and guitar were permanently put to rest.

"I love you Lord Jesus; look down from the sky,
And stay by my side until morning is nigh."

The morning light distracts. It splinters my concentration into too many pieces. My eyes steal away what the darkness provides. Always.

I think I'll have a second cup!

Copyright 2018/ Ben Bensen III

"Rakin' Leaves!"

Never thought "rakin' leaves" could be so, so "FASHIONABLE!"

I was looking for something autumnal to replace my Acura Integra car cover and stumbled upon this which was done in a fashion class at Art Center. The teacher loved the gouache painting, but wondered how it would fit into the daily deadlines of the fashion world.

She was right, but I just wanted to paint in goauche!

Who knew? Never thought "rakin' leaves" could be so, so "FASHIONABLE!"

I just heard on the morning news that the fashion world wants us to recycle, mend or reuse clothing instead of buying new clothes (WHOA!) to help reduce the carbon footprint.

So funny... Here's one of my tee shirts that a friend, Nikki Koehler Guza, brought back from her visit with family. It's about thirty years old. I think I'll recycle it when the minor league's team's logo, "The Nashville Sound," finally crumbles off of the shirt!

Second warm cup on a cold, grey, wet Tuesday!

Copyright 2018/ Ben Bensen III

"A Wretched, Spiteful, Strait Razor Toting" Friday

Good "wretched, spiteful, strait razor toting" Friday, y'all.

Surfing the internet in between plays last night, I discovered the passing of musician Tony Joe White. It really affected me. I had to find and play Brook Benton's version of White's "Rainy Night In Georgia." His deep, soulful interpretation complete with orchestration always laid me out. It did well for both writer and singer.

Tony Joe's original version ain't too bad either, but the song that just about everyone knows or remembers is "Polk Salad Annie." A true original created by someone who probably lived it.

My reflection on his death reminded me of the time I found my mother sobbing over the death of Jack Benny. I was totally surprised that my mom would care enough to be so moved by his passing. I tried to be consoling, but at the age of fourteen, it seemed a complete incongruity to me. My mother, by that time in her life was pretty hardened by life. She was not one to cry, so I thought.

Death always changes the game. It affects us emotionally in many different ways.

Before John Lennon's senseless assassination, death really didn't affect me though many actors, actresses, politicians, ball players, relatives and friends had passed away before my fifteenth birthday.

Over time, excess took some of my favorite musicians like Elvis, Jimi, Jim, Janis, as well as baseball hero, Mickey Mantle. Airplanes didn't help either. Later in the years, death took people I was prepared to mourn, like Brian Wilson, who somehow survived to witness the death of both of his brothers... but he survived. Who knew?

Reading about White's passing didn't have me in tears, but it did make me very sad. I felt I lost a part of me that I'll never get back. I suspect Jack Benny's passing affected my mom in ways I just couldn't grasp. She must have felt death slowly moving into her world. She lived a full life just south of her ninetieth birthday. But, for that one moment she was affected by that notion.

I know I feel somewhat like that losing Tony Joe White. I never met the man. I never saw him in concert. Maybe I feel I didn't appreciate him enough. Maybe, I feel the same way about all the great people that surround me to make my life so rich. The best I can do is enjoy his legacy and the songs that he left behind.

Chomp, chomp... 

Third cup!

Copyright 2018/ Ben Bensen III

"A New Chapeaux, I Suppose!"

ah-Choo...

With all the various garments floating atop women’s heads this time of year, a funny thought entered my mind.

Many women nowadays do their Easter parade thing at church sporting all kinds of ornamental designs of Spring. It got me to thinking about the tradition of women and headdress on Sunday at Mass or a holiday service.

How come men don’t wear headgear when they go to church?

I do remember, as a teenager, the de-evolution of the churchly chapeaux. It must have been a sin as a woman in the Catholic faith to enter into church without a covering of some sort. Maybe it was a way of demanding obedience to the church, that patriachal thing, or a symbol of the Virgin Mary since I’ve never seen her without a veil of some sort.

I remember in high school, when I started paying attention to girls and the strange things they do, that they were all concerned about going to Mass “uncovered!” Being raised in a Catholic environment, it seemed we were always going to church for one thing or another. I don’t remember high school girls rushing to their lockers to pull out the ubiquitous beret, beanie or bandana or whipping out, frantically, some fold up fedora or fez hat from their knapsack just before walking through the doors of church. 

One thing is for sure, in the sixties, it was fairly obvious that girls worried about what was gonna accompany their head in church. Those less than organized young ladies resorted to any and every thing before crossing the vestibule.

It was at that point, the devolving of the traditional redress occurred. White veils, scarves and beanies became bobbie pinned doilies, handkerchiefs and sometimes in a fit of desperation, a clean Kleenex!

No kidding!

Don’t quite know when that “tradition” ended. Maybe it ended with the pill and the sexual revolution that it spawned. Maybe not. I guess I need to look further into this intriguing subject, but I probably won’t.

More fun to speculate!

Copyright 2018/ Ben Bensen III