…in the spring concert derby.

Two things happened last night: one really nice, and one really great.

1. My middle school kids tore it up onstage.
2. I became a Grammie for the second time.

Justin was born at around 10 last night. Jakey, Grammie, and Grandpa Thriller are going to the hospital today to see new little brother. The rest of my day, as I told someone in email this morning, will be spent in my gardens, at the park, having coffee with a friend (while Jake naps), and basically doing anything else we want to do.

What’s THAT all about???

Photos tomorrow…have a good Thursday, fiends.

Grammie Fink

OK, so it’s A) redundant, and I hope Paul Simon meant it that way, and B) wrong, since it’s Tuesday morning. But I really have been up since 3 a.m. Sometimes my brain’s kill switch moves around and I can’t find it.

My high school concert was last night. The choir did quite well — it was ghastly hot (the A/C was on the fritz) but no one fainted (or feinted to faint) or barfed or otherwise looked sickly, at least that I could see. I was proud of them all.

And as usual, our audience was very kind. They always make me (and the kids, I hope) feel like what we’re doing is worthwhile. They are a constant and dependable validation source, and that’s a good thing because I am infuriatingly cynical about my endless search for “success” in music ed. It’s just part of life in my universe, I guess. You know, like the sun coming up, the waves rushing the shore, rappers shooting each other…c’est la vie. Anyway, it’s good to hear nice comments when I know for a fact that my v-jazz group and my male quartet kinda choked in a couple places. But it’s all good, and I’m still proud of — and grateful to — my students, who willingly subject themselves to my lunacy for years on end. There was good music last night, and they should feel good about it.

Middle school concert tomorrow night. Then graduation on the 31st, then it’s in the books for another year. And glad tidings this day: I’m giving up my room so my principal and AD can have a coaches’ meeting there, since I have the largest classroom on campus. They’re grilling out for lunch, and guess who gets a wonderful medium-rare steak out of the deal. Oh, yeah.

Just another day of girlfriend livin’ la vida loca.

Fink (upside, inside) out.

“Say it ain’t so, Joe.”

Eighties fashions are coming back. Now this is cause for spirited discussion. It all started this morning, when I saw a link to J. Crew’s new line of, you guessed it — 80s pegged, cuffed jeans.

There’s much about the 1980s that I laugh at now: the popped collars, the ripped shirts, the hair. Dear Lord, the hair…

I remember a high school kid around 1988 who wore the Mike Score Flock of Seagulls look. When I went to band concerts and watched him onstage, I constantly had the uncontrollable urge to get a brush and some Rave and…but yeah, I didn’t.

Cyndi Lauper gets the “80s Icon” award, IMO.

And from the Archives, check out this sassy rock and roll singer, circa 1986. Fiends, that’s a bumble bee yellow-and-black blazer with linebacker shoulder pads. Wish I’d kept it. Can’t say as I miss the gallons of mousse and pomade, however. But girlfriend’s band worked the stage back then. Mercy.

(Not pictured: BoomR playing keys, directly to my right.)

Now you just have a dandy Saturday. I’m off to Panera to meet Bando. And I hope she’s not wearing anything that might suggest a Flashdance flashback.

FO

Ah yes…”good music” while we’re waiting for New Grandson to be born.

We were treated to some major dobra glasba last night. That, and some fun conversation with our good friend Bob, who lives with his wife (and my BFF) Kay in Slovenija for six months out of every year. (Kay was out of town last night and couldn’t join us.)

Bob has been busy over there across the big water: not just teaching, but also learning to play the accordion. And not just any accordion, mind, but a diatonic, bi-tonal Melodija Mengeš Harmonike.

Also known as a “button box” (notice the absence of a piano keyboard on the side), it has a wonderful “old world” oompah polka band sound. Delightful! I was getting dinner ready, and heard him playing it as he walked up the backyard sidewalk. I knew our “traveling musician” had arrived.

After dinner, we sat on the back porch and enjoyed a concert:

The instrument is physically beautiful, with ornate markings. This one belonged to Bob’s uncle (his family is of Slovenian descent).

And what a gorgeous sound. So ethnic and happy. Most fun part, though: Bob let the Fink have a go:

Crazy. It cries out against every pianistic tendency in my rickety old body. Intervals of fourths and fifths in the left hand are just one key away; thirds in the right hand are adjacent. I simply could *not* get the hang. Bizarro…

So yeah, I was pretty much horrible, but I told Bob to leave it with me for a week and then come back. (Yeah, like I need another project…)

Happy Finkday, finally.