Our Father

Last night, around the dinner table, Susan and me and the boys were having a discussion. Apparently, sometimes when the boys need to get their mother’s attention, they refer to her as “Susan.” My oldest boy mentioned it, and he said it with a smile. I said to him “I’m glad you say that with a smile, because generally I wouldn’t want you calling your mother by her first name.” We talked about Frank Zappa’s children, and how they all apparently refer to their father as “Frank.”

I had a discussion about this with a guitar playing friend–a huge Zappa fan–who said it came from this idea in the ’70s that you treat your children as little adults, and so Frank trained his children to call him Frank. I was raised to never call my parents by their first name. My aunts and uncles were always “Aunt Ginny,” or “Uncle Roger.” Once in church, my Aunt Suz called me out because I told the congregation “If you have any questions, see Suzy Batty.” And she said “Aunt Suzy.” Even if I was just trying to be clear to those people to whom Aunt Suz isn’t their aunt, I was supposed to still call her “Aunt.”

I’ve taken this teaching one step further with my children. I’ve explained it to them like this: “There are three people in the entire world who get to call me “Dad.” Three. And you’re one of them. Anyone can call me ‘Bill.’ To you, I’m ‘Dad.’ Don’t take that lightly. Instead, be glad.”

Take a look at Luke 11. The disciples ask Jesus “Teach us to pray.” And then he says to them, “When you pray, say ‘Father, who art in heaven’…” (Emphasis mine.) Jesus doesn’t say “When pray, pray ‘Father.'” No, He tells them “When you pray, call Him Father.” Of all the names God could insist we call Him, He wants to be called “Father.” He doesn’t ask to be called Lord, or LORD, or King, or God, or Master, or any of those things. And He could rightly demand that we address Him as such. If I were to address the president, I’d call him “Mr. Obama,” or more likely “Mr. President.” If I would give the POTUS the respect he deserves, wouldn’t I offer the same to the God of the Universe? Of course. And yet, He doesn’t ask us for that. He deserves that, but instead He wants us to call him “Father.” The fullness of God’s glory is recognized through the Son. And the Son says “Call him Father.” How awesome!

In Memory of Steve

Monday night, at my jazz gig at The Slipway, I was discussing an upcoming absence of mine, and inquiring with the guys in the band about a sub. Steve Grover’s name came up as a possibility as a sub, but guitar player Dave said “I think I heard he’s struggling with cancer.” That’s the first time I heard such a thing.

In 1990, I was a Jazz and Contemporary Music major at the University of Maine, Augusta. The jazz program there was highly regarded at the time; it was where players went who couldn’t afford Berklee. I, of course, couldn’t afford Berklee, so UMA made a good choice. It was affordable, a fine school, and only an hour away from my parent’s house, so I could live at home. So I did. And Steve Grover was my drum instructor.

So intense was that music instruction that the one hour weekly lesson actually counted as two credit hours. I learned so much from Steve in that one semester, it’s unreal. So much of who I am as a jazz player came directly from Steve. I took jazz band in high school, and studied drums privately, but not really JAZZ drumming. That all came from Steve. Steve taught me the hemiola. Steve taught me independence, and comping. Steve beat alternating sticking into my head. He taught me how to count out loud by insisting that I do it–something I try to get MY students to do. And it was Steve that realized I’d been playing my right and left flams backwards for years! He made me go back and re-learn them–something that was very hard to do. All this stuff from Steve.

Wednesday night, two days after the initial news that Steve might be sick, I see a note from a mutual friend and trumpet player on Facebook. Steve’s in hospice. Hospice?! As I read down through the comments, I see “Steve’s taken a turn for the worse. He’s not in hospice. He’s in the hospital. He’s not expected to ever come out.”

Last night, just before 6pm, I was just about to start another gig, when I took a quick glance on Facebook. Steve died. Rest in peace Steve. You made a difference in my playing, and you made a difference in me.

Flags of the Revolution Part V (Part, the Last)

IMG_3057OK, I’ve got one more historical flag left in my collection that relates to the Revolution. It’s the Gadsden flag. Some people know it as the “Snake” flag, or the “Don’t Tread on Me” flag. General Gadsden was the designer of the flag. Congress appointed some Marines to go along with Washington’s Navy (see the Washingston’s Cruisers flag), and those Marines carried this flag. It flies today in downtown Spruce Head America, and this flag is a particular favorite of Mrs. Batty.

Flags of the Revolution, the Fourth (the IVth), The Taunton Flag

We talked briefly about ensigns yesterday. A ensign is a flag flown on ships used toIMG_3051 show the nation of origin. At the time of the revolution, the British used an ensign of the Union Jack as the canton, and a field of red. It was also known as Queen Anne’s flag, and when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, it was under this flag. Apparently, in Taunton Massachusetts in 1774, and band from the Sons of Liberty raised a flag based on the British ensign with the words “Liberty and Union” sewed on it.

To me, this solidifies the idea the patriots weren’t just about breaking the noose of British authority. Yes, they wanted liberty, but they wanted it within the union of a British colony. I don’t think independence was the first thing on their mind; it was equality. Had it been given them, I think we might be seeing a much different globe today.

I like to fly the Taunton flag a lot, for the same reasons I like to fly Frankin’s “Join or Die.” We as Americans seem so divided. I appeal to heaven that we would have both liberty and union.

Flags of the Revolution, Day III


IMG_3023“Appealing to Heaven for the justice of our cause, we determine to die or be free.”
The Provincial Congress of Massachusetts

The Pine Tree flag, or as I know it, Washington’s Cruisers Flag, was a popular symbol during the revolution, especially in New England. The pine tree was used in flags in New England for over 100 years before the revolution. It was part of the ensign for ships in New England, and the pine tree was used in the flag that flew over Bunker Hill.

On Sundays, I like to fly a flag that represents my Christian faith. Usually, that means the Christian flag. Sometimes, though, when I feel like I really want God to intervene for the sake of our country, I’ll fly Washington’s Cruisers flag as a way to offer an appeal to heaven. Today, that flag flies over downtown Spruce Head America.