They Might Be Monkeys!

I have been having something of an existential crisis lately. While I have suffered for years with some relatively minor depression and anxiety issues, every once in a while some kind of a stressor kicks those minor issues up a notch. It gets so bad that all I can really do is morbidly observe the passage of time (which seems to get faster every year) and know that each day is one day closer to the end. I am left wondering what it is that I will leave behind.

I have some great childhood memories. As a musician, I find that I am most connected to the soundtrack of my youth. I still vividly remember my father introducing me to Led Zeppelin because he was dismayed that I was starting to like Whitesnake in elementary school. I may never be able to thank him enough, although he has since made up for it by teaching my sons to like Three Dog Night. (If I ever hear "One is the Loneliest Number" Again...) As I reached my teenage years I got into Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, and the like. When I feel most vulnerable I return to the music that got me through my vulnerable teenage years. It is almost like a fountain of youth, returning me to those days. I have in these moments...

It just occurred to me that this may be the absolute worst piece of drivel I have ever written, and that I had better get to the point of this inane, rambling, self-absorbed, pretentious, self-important, overly introspective piece of horse-shit attempt at not having to pay for actual therapy excuse of a blog post before the only two people who actually read this blog get scared away and all I'm left with is a proverbial session of talking to myself in the bathroom in the dark (not that I do that, mind you -- especially not while laying down in the tub).

I did mention that I'm in kind of a bad place right now, didn't I? Anyway, on with the blog! You may have noticed that the title of this post is "They Might be Monkeys!" This title comes from the combination of the term I use for my little miscreants... I mean angels, and the name of the band I turned to when my grunge filled fountain of youth faltered. That's right, it's They Might Be Giants. I used to love that band. I had a copy of their album Flood on cassette that I literally wore out with my Walkman. I knew all of the words to all nineteen (yes nineteen!) songs on that tape.

On a lark I happened to purchase a copy of Flood on CD the other day. Two things floored me about this album almost immediately. The first was that according to the date on the back it was released seventeen (SEVENTEEN!) years ago. I mean, I still remember when it came out! It was not that long ago. The second thing that floored me was that I could sing along to every song on the album, even though I probably hadn't heard them in the last thirteen years or so (since I replaced my Walkman with a Discman and started listening to grunge). It's weird how simultaneously young and old that made me feel.

Anyway, They Might Be Giants has been residing in our minivan since its purchase, and like Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and The Who (from my father's youth) as well as Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, The Spin Doctors, REM, The Choir, The 77s, and Counting Crows (from mine) They Might Be Giants has become a staple of muti-generational Baker musical consumption. All three of my children now know every word to "Istanbul". I couldn't be more proud.

Morning conversation about MLK

The other day, as he was getting ready for school and I was getting ready for work, Josh stopped for a second and said, "I don't have to go to school on Monday because it's Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Birthday."

I told him that I don't have to go to work, either. He was very excited about this initially, however a look of concern quickly fell over him. Josh explained that Dr. King would not be getting older on his birthday. "Do you know why?" he asked. "It's because somebody shot him."

I asked Josh if he knew why Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot. He said that he did. He explained to me that Dr. King had been shot "because somebody did not like what he was doing." Josh even explained to me the details of the shooting, including that the gun was "a big one, a rifle" and that there were three people with Dr. King as he was shot who then pointed out to the police where the shot had come from.

Getting away from the gory details and back to the part that I felt was important, I asked Josh what it was that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been doing that someone would dislike so much that they would shot him. Josh replied, "I don't know that part."

I could get off on some kind of a rant here about the emphasis in our society on the details of violence or some kind of failure in school to teach the subject matter such that children like my son could understand, but important matters such as social justice and racial equality should probably be dealt with by parents at home. So ant rant that I might go off on would probably be self-incriminating, so I'll avoid that. Let's just say that Josh and I had a good conversation after that, and I do not believe that he will answer with "I don't know that part", again.

The OJ Mayo Traveling Circus

My dad, Josh's "Pops", took us to see OJ Mayo (widely regarded as the best high school basketball player in the US), potential UK recruit Patrick Patterson, and their team from Huntington play Lexington Catholic in Memorial Collisium this afternoon.

Josh gets out of the rain as we buy tickets.

The scoreboard. Doesn't it look familiar?

Josh and Pops find their seats.

Lexington Catholic warms up.

OJ Mayo dunking in warmups.

The officials get their photo op with the star.

Tip off.

Potential UK recruit Patrick Patterson shooting free throws.

Look familiar? This is where we were yesterday for gymnastics.

Excite Night!

We just got back from The University of Kentucky's Excite Night for the Women's Gymnastics team. I'd love to tell you all about it but I'm exhausted, so I'll just let these pictures tell the story for me:

Mud Monster Maggie!

I came home from work a few days ago to find my Maggie who love princesses, dresses, ballet, gymnastics, and only knows the colors pink and purple, she who is a girl's girl, she to whom the only store worth shopping in is Club Libby Lu, she to whom Barbie is the best possible role modle and the figure of perfection personified, my little Princess Margaret Ann the Girly-Whirl had been replace by this Mud Monster!























































By the way, the boys had been playing in the mud, too. They, however, ran as fast as their little legs could carry them to avoid having this sad fact documented. Maggie was the only one who seemed proud of what she was doing. That's my girl!

This is what happens when a Tom has a digital camera...

...and some Baker Monkeys out on the town (or at least in a hardware store and restaurant - no, not in the same building).

Coming soon.

I know this is lame, but I do plan on writing something at some point. This will eventually be the location of all the witty little stories about my kids that I used to post on my website. I'll put up some stupid pictures and things, too. This should be fun. Or I could drop the ball on this and have it floating alone in cyber-space indefinately. Anything could happen, really.