You Say Tomato, I Blog Tomahto. Who Cares?!

You know, the thing about blogging is that you're out there. Everything you choose to write about, the way things affect your life or your opinions or experiences, it's all out there. That's why they call it a Weblog. It's like an online diary. Some of it is focused in topic areas like this one generally is, and others are deeply personal.

This is of course not without risk. I've been taken to task a number of times since launching FTLOB for anything from how little I know about coal mining (give me strength, my back 20 acres was strip-mined) to how I misrepresent various players or other people or events. Alternatively I have sometimes received a gracious note from readers who had personal experiences with the subject matter or even from musicians or their associates, and those unexpected moments make up for the rest.

The one downside of a blog is that, with little exception, it's a one-way street. Hundreds of readers stop by every week and don't comment, but it's not a requirement. Some of those folks are friends of mine, and we have a two-way relationship that sometimes includes dialog off line about my blog. Other than that and the two hundred or so other visitors who are led here because of a relevant bluegrass search term, there are a tiny number of people interacting with other members of my family who come to check up on me, and rather than send an email and start a conversation, or take me up on an invitation for coffee, continue to hide. If you're looking for clues, here's one: the best way to get to know a person is to get to know them. Do you think you know Tom Friedman because you read the New York Times?

I have made a few friends in the process of this blog and am happy for that. I also came close once to losing a very good friend over this blog. It was the one time I made a significant editorial change, and I will always regret it a little because it had to do with something deeply important to me and millions of other people. But in the end it taught me how tricky an editorial existence can be. I wanted desperately to write about an issue that to me was real and important, but my friend was successful in persuading me to believe in the perceived series of consequences my friend felt certain would follow posting the piece.

I've since accepted that I have pretty limited responsibility (read: none) for my friends' relationships, the way they live their lives, or what they tell other people about me. Consequently I have a hard time buying that, other than rushing out ot get the latest Stringdusters release or downloading a song, someone reading this blog is going to alter their behavior or relationships because of something I wrote. Hell, if I had that kind of influence, by now the war would be over, every child would be a wanted child, we'd all have decent health care and housing, fuel efficiency in cars would be at an all-time high, and the Bush administration would just be a bad memory.

Maybe this is similar to the position in which a music critic might find himself or herself, writing about an off performance and hurting a few feelings of friends in the ensemble. The review is about what he or she heard during the performance, whether the entrances were off or the third movement lacked a certain expected energy or a soloist was too mechanical. That's what they heard. There might be a few single ticket buyers who take a pass, but it's not going to sway season ticket holders, the true loyal die-hards who think for themselves.

Like writing a review, blogging is all about the experience. I am trying to teach my children the value of live music. Each performance is unique; a player has one shot at that particular moment of delivering the goods. You can listen to the same Mozart concerto on a CD over and over and the soloist will deliver the same performance again and again. But whether its Mitsuko Uchida with the Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall or Bela Fleck and Edgar Meyer with the Nashville Chamber Orchestra at the new and beautiful Schermerhorn, the musicians in a concert setting will deliver a unique live music experience that will never, ever be repeated.

Likewise, once you've made your series of choices and taken a certain action, you can't take it back, and whatever impression it leaves is the one it leaves. It's like saying something you can't take back. Imagine Yo-Yo Ma grimacing at a conductor over a cue or Doyle Lawson forgetting to introduce Jamie Dailey because he's mad at him. It ain't likely gonna happen -- especially since Jamie left the band, darn it -- but if it did, you wouldn't forget it.

Sometimes those experiences become stories. One part of my story, a recurring theme, has worn itself out, kind of like that old chestnut Orange Blossom Special or Saruman's theme in Howard Shore's LOTR score. Just today, a very good friend shared with me a terrific article that essentially deconstructed the value of retelling the same story over and over. An excerpt goes like this:

It's good to know that all of your stories were created by some life event (big or small) that actually happened. Then, the mind/ego assigned a specific positive or negative meaning to these events. We invite you to notice this week which stories you tend to repeat to people. Are they positive or negative stories? Who would you be without these stories?

It was thoughtful and well-timed. It really asks a good question. I realized everyone is pretty sick of my story, including me. The characters are dull and refuse to change. Same story line, same dialogue, same ending every time. Not worth retelling at all.

I am grateful, really grateful for having turned a page and seeing what really matters: the future.

Turn the Page Again

December nights come early, wait a while to see the light again
A question left unanswered, sent out on the evening wind
If winter is a stranger, maybe spring will be my friend
Seasons change, turn the page again

Summer days are longer, I'm still waiting for your call
Left hanging like a promise, like summer leaves the fall
Sometimes she's a stranger, sometimes she's my friend
But people change, turn the page again

The car is packed and runnin', my heart is racin' fast
Kiss you just one more time and hope it's not my last
The past will be a stranger, the future is my new friend
So let it change, turn the page again

I'm soaring like an eagle, I'll find a place to land
I'll let the west wind take me, see what he has planned
My home is in my heart now, or any place I stand

I'll go where I'm a stranger, I'm gonna try to be a friend
I'm not afraid to turn the page again
If winter was a stranger, maybe spring will be my friend
Seasons change, turn the page again