Always Listen To Your Dad

It was the summer of 1997. I had just quit my first band. I felt I needed to go in a different direction. My biggest love was singing and, suddenly, my weekends were now free and there was no interest from other bands in the area of having me sing with them.

I was heartbroken.

I went to my parent’s house to visit and told them what had happened. I just started crying uncontrollably asking “What am I going to do? I love it so much.”

My father was visibly shaken. He had 1 son but he also had 8 daughters and hated to see any of them cry. He took my face in his hands and lifted my eyes to his. I will never forget that moment. When I looked in his eyes there were tears. He held my head and said “You know what? You have what I didn’t. You’ve got ‘IT’. You have a chance to make it. Don’t you worry. You’ll be okay. You are too good not to sing.” Back when he was in his early 20s, his voice had a close resemblance to that of Josh Groban thanks to training from the priests of his church he received. He missed his chance due to circumstances beyond his control.

Looking into his eyes that day I was determined to not let him down. I wasn’t going to let myself down. When Dad told me something, I always believed him. I wasn’t about to stop then.

Fast forward 21 years.

My father, 82, and my mother, 75, are now housebound. The only time they leave the house in the winter is to go to doctor’s appointments. In the spring, summer, and fall they venture out to their mailbox, their front yard to watch the parade pass by, the fenced-in backyard or are driven to a family gathering by one of us children. We all take turns running errands, cleaning house, cooking meals and just plain old visiting. We all love to visit and talk with them. We bring their grandchildren by to see them. Mom especially loves to see how big they are getting.

I had run an errand to the Christmas Tree Shop in Augusta and the Village Market in Fairfield the day before and stopped in to visit and deliver their purchases while my son was at Boy Scouts and my step-daughter was at basketball practice. They reimbursed me for the items I had bought them and we started talking.

My mother always asks “What’s new?” So I told them about the antics we had at work at the Maine Veterans’ Home that day, my meeting with the Stake President of my church and our plans for Christmas Day. I had them laughing when I told them about our cat who repeatedly clears a room due to its flatulence.  I mentioned that we had the weekend off from playing in the band because it was Christmas weekend and my dad startled.

“That reminds me,“ he piped up, “I had a dream about you last night.” I was so surprised. Dad never mentioned things like this.
“Me? What was I doing?” I started to laugh.

“Remember when you were at the Waterville Opera House and Ma and I were in our seats on the aisle and you sang that song to us?” I did. It was one of the best moments of my life. “The one where you got the standing ovation? Man,” he said “that was incredible. It was so good. You need to do that again. I dreamt about that last night.”

I was fighting back tears. My mind flashed back to that summer day 21 years ago and I had to hold it together. I didn’t want my dad to think he was making me cry even if they were tears of joy.

I cleared my throat and managed to make an announcement to them. “Thanks, Dad. As a matter of fact, I have big news. I have started a Miranda Lambert Tribute band and our first gig is in 3 months! I will be up on stage again just like that. The crazy thing is that I just booked a second one with a wonderful lady that says it’s going to be great. I haven’t even performed the first one yet! I am really hoping they go well because I’d like to branch out and take the show all over New England.”  Their eyes lit up.

“Wow! All over New England, you say?” said Dad. 

“That sounds cool,” added Mom.

I explained how I would wear a wig and have a costume change or two and how my younger sister, Jenny, would be singing back up. Practices were starting right after Christmas. I have a great group of musicians behind me including lead player Bruce Burpee, bass player Ed Nevins, rhythm player Larry Tilton and drummer Kyle Melcher. My husband, Chad, would be running the sound for us.

“Well,” Dad said “that sounds good. Good, good, good.”

“I’m glad you like it, Dad. I’ll make a video for you and you’ll be able to see it.”

“Good, good, good.” He nodded his head and smiled.

I have been singing in bands since I was 17 years old. Six years ago, thanks to the encouragement of my husband, I started my own band, Sharon Hood & Dixon Road. We have since opened for Luke Bryan, Keith Urban and, yes, Miranda Lambert. Now I’ve started this new venture paying tribute to a woman I admire so much.

Dad was right.

I was okay.
And I’m still singing.

Mysterious Truck Driver

In early 2000, I was a 26 year old contestant in a karaoke contest at a Skowhegan, Maine bowling alley/restaurant and lounge. If you made it to the finals you had the chance of winning $1000. I was excited because I loved to sing and we could really use the money. Back then, I was working three jobs and helping my, now former, husband get through nursing school. He would be graduating in just over a month and starting what would be his lifelong career. Myself, I was a medical biller for a mental health facility making just over $9/hour. I was also working for a temp agency and sang in a band almost every weekend until the wee hours of the morning.

 

The few trips we had made out of the state included Virginia, Florida, Tennessee and Washington, DC. This time, however, I would have to be making a trip alone. Washington D.C. in the dead of night was going to be quite the challenge.

 

The evening that I won my preliminary round of the contest I was told the date of the finals. My jaw dropped. It was the only weekend that I would not even be in Maine. The people who ran the contest looked at me incredulously. They told me I HAD to be there because I had a really good shot at winning. I needed to make a decision.

 

The reason I would not be able to participate was because we had promised my sister, who had never driven anywhere by herself, that we would travel to DC with her for the weekend. She was a huge fan of the television show, Emergency!, and her favorite actor, Randolph Mantooth, was going to be there that same weekend of the contest. He was the guest of honor at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. There was going to be a display of memorabilia from the show and he would be there to introduce it. She really wanted to meet him.

 

I couldn’t be in two places at once.

 

When I told my husband he asked what we were going to do. We talked with my sister and hatched the plan to have him drive down with her in her car and spend the one night in the hostel we had all found in a travel book. I would drive down as soon at the contest was over and meet them at the Washington Monument the next morning at 8am.

 

At 5 am the day of the contest I wished my husband a safe trip and he left to meet my sister to travel the nearly 600 miles to their destination. I tried to go back to sleep. I took the day off specifically for that purpose but to no avail. I had always been a morning person and that day was no different.

 

I packed a light bag for the trip because I knew, win or lose, we were staying overnight and traveling back the next day. As luck would have it, I won the contest and the $1000 prize!. It was 10 o’clock at night and after changing my clothes I climbed into my 1993 Mercury Tracer and headed for the highway.

 

In 2000, I had an actual map. That’s it. No GPS. No cell phone. No English woman’s voice on an app to help guide me. It was me and the Rand McNally Road Atlas of the United States. I would travel I-95 South the entire way down.

 

As soon as I hit the Massachusetts border I noticed something peculiar. There were no cars. The only vehicles on the road were tractor trailers. When you’re under five feet tall in a compact car and there are semis in front, behind and to each side of you, you start to feel a bit nervous. I kept wondering if they could even see me at all. I found an opportunity to get to the right travel lane. I put my blinker on and it just so happened the truck in front of me put its blinker on. I moved over and so did they. When he would change lanes I did as well. This went on for a little while.

 

I finally had to pull over. Being awake for almost 20 hours was starting to take its toll on me. It was nearly 2 am and, though I had packed an overnight bag, I had failed to pack snacks. I saw the sign for the next rest stop and realized the truck was also going to rest as well. I parked my car and went to the McDonald’s to order food and a drink with caffeine. I never drank caffeinated drinks but I needed to stay awake for the rest of the drive. I looked at around at the people coming inside the building wondering if the truck driver who had been my guide was one of the patrons filing in.

 

I finished my late night snack, used the facilities and headed out. I filled the car with gas and started back on my way. I pulled back onto the highway with another six hour drive ahead of me.

 

About ten minutes down the road a truck pulled up alongside me and I saw a light go on in the cab. I saw a manly hand wave at me but that was all I could see. I turned my light on and waved back. Our lights went out and I heard his air horn blare. He sped up and pulled in front of me.

 

My truck driver was back!

 

Sure enough, the license plate was the same. It’s hard to forget when you were staring at the back end of the same truck for hours. Together until we reached DC the semi and I changed lanes. The driver would always wait for an opportunity to make certain I had enough space to change lanes with him.

 

The sun was starting to come up and the miles melted away. I started to see signs for the DC area. I knew I had to start following them. My hand reached for the signal but I didn’t really want to. I had followed the same truck for nearly 400 miles. I considered it and its driver my guardian angels. I flicked the blinker on to take the exit and I could see his hand wave out his window. I rolled down mine and waved back. He blew his horn and I exited the highway to find the Monument and my waiting family.

 

I’ll never know who he was or what triggered him to stay with me for so long or remember the name of the company he drove for. All I will remember is that this driver was a friend. He made my trip more enjoyable, less stressful and definitely more interesting. 10-3. If you're a trucker, you'll know what that means.

A Quick Tip In Preparing for Black Friday

It’s the same every year:

You can’t remember that toy you wanted to get for your child. You recall seeing it on the shelf once and saying “I’ve got to get that for little Tommy for Christmas!”

Then on Black Friday you’re racking your brain for that particular item.

Poor Tommy.

It used to happen to me all the time but I have a quick tip that has solved my problem.

Use your cellphone.

I’m not kidding.

When I see something and can’t pick it up right away, I enter it on my cellphone.

On the date of Black Friday, I enter the child’s name and the toy/object/clothing I want to purchase. This way when I am searching the web for the best discounts, I know what I’m looking for. I have even included my husband in the process. I tell him if he sees anything he wants to get the kids or if they tell him something they would really like--to let me know.  I plug it into the date on my calendar and it’s all there! This works for birthdays, too!

Some use their notepad feature or other app on their phone but I find my calendar is the easiest way.

I will make the suggestion of routinely backing up your phone. If it’s good for your contacts, it’s good for your lists!

A Boy and Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson

We had been waiting for this night for the last two months.  The tickets had been bought thanks to a friend who wanted Anderson to get a chance to see one of the most influential minds on the planet.

Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson was delivering his first lecture in the state of Maine on Wednesday night to a packed house at the Merrill Auditorium in Portland. The diversity in age of the ticketholders surprised me. I, personally, thought I was the only one bringing a child with me but there were at least twenty under the age of twelve sitting in the audience. One nine year old even succeeded in impressing Dr. Tyson by answering a question loudly proving himself smarter than some people twice his age.

Anderson has had a fascination with the universe since the age of five. Living in the country, the stars at night are big and bright in Maine and deep in the heart of a child. I can’t count the number of times we have rushed outside to see the International Space Station drift across the sky. Or the nights where he has pointed out a certain star and told me its name and how many light years away it is.

When I told him Dr. Tyson was coming to Maine he said “The man from the Big Bang Theory?” Yes, one in the same. “You mean the man that said Pluto’s not a real planet anymore?” Yes, that man. “Can we go?” He got pretty excited. I told him maybe. I had no idea that tickets to see a lecture were the same price as to see a concert.  By chance, a woman I know found out that he wanted to see him and handed me a check and said “Take him. It’s on me. Let that boy have his superhero.”

If that doesn’t restore your faith in humanity, I don’t know what will.

And so we went to see his superhero.

Dressed in jeans, buttoned-down shirt, sport coat and, coincidentally, no shoes he took the stage (even though the house lights weren’t working properly) to the thunderous applause of almost 1900 that were in attendance. You would have thought Paul Simon or Ed Sheeran had come out from behind the curtain.

Who was this man?

To Anderson, he’s the space guy. When I told him we had tickets, we decided to do a little research on him. We found out that he grew up in Bronx, NY, and wanted to become an astrophysicist at an early age. We read that he loved stars and space and discovering new things. His first experience was at the Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History in New York and now he is the Director of it.

For two hours, we listened to him talk, joke and mesmerize us with passages from Carl Sagan. He taught us about where we came from, what we were related to, how very big the universe is and how very small we really are. Anderson would laugh and the adults near us, surprised to hear a young voice, turned to see who it was. They smiled when they saw him enjoying himself. I couple of the ushers were sitting behind us and one of them gave me a thumbs up. They loved hearing how happy he was.

Toward the very end there was time for questions and answers. We were in the balcony so there was no chance of us getting in line for that. We stayed and listened.

Then the most wonderful part of the entire experience happened.

While answering the nine year old’s question, he said (and I am paraphrasing because I can’t remember word for word) something like this:

“If you’re a parent or an adult who knows children, take them to see someone who knows something. Let them hear from a professional the knowledge and the excitement they have for the position they hold.”

That’s exactly what I was doing. If you could have seen Anderson’s face as he hung on every word Dr. Tyson was saying, then you’d know his words are true. I was so overwhelmed by hearing this and seeing his face, I started to tear up. I looked at him knowing I did the right thing by keeping him out late on a school night to hear man talk about space. But it was much more than that.

It was an experience together. It was a mother helping further her son’s dream of space and stars and developing what he wants to be when he grows up. Now, that dream may change (although I hope it doesn’t) and, if it does, then I will try to support him with that dream. I will do what Dr. Tyson says and take him to another professional that can put forth the knowledge and excitement about what they do to instill in him a thirst for that knowledge.

I put Anderson to bed and he thanked me for taking him. He said since it was getting darker earlier we could take the telescope out and check out the sky more often. It was something we could do together.

I don’t see his love for the universe ending anytime soon. That’s fine by me because I don’t see my love for him or his for me ending anytime soon either.

One Mom’s Dream Passed to Her Son

I didn’t plan it. I didn’t push it on him. It was something he started to take interest in at school. When he started telling me about what he was doing, I thought “He’s just like me.”

At the age of twelve, my quest in life was to become an astronaut. It was just before the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster that took the life of school teacher Christa McAuliffe that my interests began to sway toward Astronomy. The stars were all I could think about. I studied the constellations, the phases of the moon and anything else I could get my hands on within books. I stayed outside at night just to look at them.

When I was in sixth grade, there was no internet and no readily handy ways to get information quickly. To do that I would have had to walk to the library for encyclopedias or books however my parents wouldn’t let me venture out alone. Fairfield, Maine was much different from where I started to grow up. Milford, Connecticut was a busy city while Fairfield was a small town. We had moved a few years earlier and mom and dad were still adjusting. My parents held onto the fear of their children being abducted in the streets. Going any where alone was forbidden. My knowledge was limited on space but I still thirsted for it.

Fast forward to today, my son, Anderson, has a uncanny interest in space just like I had. In fourth grade, he wrote small books on almost every planet and the moon for his fellow students to read. He wanted them to learn about them as much as he had. They were complete with title and pictures.

It hasn’t stopped there. We now watch the rocket launches on our television, movies that involve space (Star Wars, October Sky) and watch the meteor showers at night. The Perseid Meteor Shower is coming up this weekend. We won’t be able to watch it together on Saturday but we will on Sunday night. That will involve laying in the back of the car under blankets to stare into the night sky together and talk…about everything.

These are special moments with him I’ll never forget. Yesterday, I remembered getting in the mail when I was twelve a copy of a book that had to do with Dr. Robert Goddard, the engineer and physicist that built the first liquid-fueled rocket. Someone in my family, and I can’t remember who, sent me the book of the Goddard Rocket and Space Museum in Roswell, New Mexico. I recall reading it over and over. I found it this morning and sat down with Anderson.

I went on to tell him that my dream was to become an astronaut like him. Right away he told me I couldn’t do that because I get motion sickness. He is right. I can’t.

But he CAN.

I gave him the book I cherished so much and, with tears in my eyes, I told him “I want you to always be what you want to be. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t. Because you CAN.”

On the back of the book something caught his eye. “Mama, look!”  I followed his finger to the back cover.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The back cover had a red stamp on it that read:

COMPLIMENTS OF THE U.S. SENATE

COMMITTEE ON AERONAUTICAL AND SPACE SCIENCES

CHAIRMAN: SENATOR CLINTON P. ANDERSON, NEW MEXICO

Clinton is the town where we live and, of course, his name is Anderson. He became so excited and said “I think this is what I’m supposed to do.”

I think it is, too, and I’ll do everything I can to help him fulfill his dream.

Just Me and My Dad

It's not often a forty-two year old woman gets to sit at the foot of her father and read to him.

But today I did.

I visited my mother and father after work this evening and brought them some information I thought he might like to hear. My sister, Audrey, was finishing up their few dishes in the sink when I arrived.

My dad is a proud veteran of the US Navy having served during the time of the Korean War. He was aboard the USS Newport News from 1956 until 1957. In their home hangs a beautiful picture of the ship he was on. They had nicknamed it 'The Grey Ghost from the East Coast'. When I was little I would ask him questions about the 'boat' as I called it and he would point out where he manned the five inch guns.

He never talked about being in the armed forces much. Every now and then I bring it up and a story might happen to make its way out to be told. My dad is a few months shy of eighty-one so it's understandable not remembering too much of things that happen sixty years ago.

But remember he does.

I sat on the floor next to his recliner and started to read aloud the article of his ship. It was interesting to find out it was the very first fully-air conditioned ship in the US Navy. When I said a certain Admiral's name, my mother started to laugh and said "that's the one he punched". She didn't elaborate any further. My dad didn't expand on it either. I guess that's a story for another time.

It mentioned many different cities the ship had visited: Barcelona, New Orleans, Balboa, Guantanamo Bay. The most fascinating place to me was the Panama Canal. I had not read the entire piece before I arrived so I was amazed when I read it. I looked up at him and asked "YOU went through the Panama Canal?"

Not missing a beat he replied "Well, you had to. If you didn't, you'd have to go all the way around to get where we were going."

That's when a story came to light. He remembered when one of his shipmates was down in the boiler room. He radioed up he wanted a cigarette. One of the crewmen brought it down and when the soldier lit it up, the room exploded. Two men died and another two were injured. Ten minutes later, he said, he was radioed again saying he had a phone call from his mother. Thinking something had happened to her, he ran to pick it up. He asked if she was alright and she said she was fine. Then she asked if he was. Confused he said he was and wondered why she was calling. Somehow it made the news that there was an explosion aboard his ship! The Grey Ghost's phone lines were 'blowing up' with calls from worried moms and dads making sure their sailors were unharmed.

Then, he gave me a request.

My husband, Chad, and I are taking our blended family on its first family vacation. We had told my parents a few months ago were were headed to Washington, D.C. to take in all the monuments and museums.

My father said at the Korean Memorial it has a computer program inside its building where you can search for a soldier's name and the time they served. My father has asked me to go and search for him. I hope I find him. I'll do more research on what he's talking about but if his name is anywhere in Washington, D.C. I want to find it and show him.

I wonder how many more stories I'll hear from him. The unusual thing about my father is he hardly ever tells the same story twice. They're always new. At least to me they are. When we get back from our trip, I look forward to sitting with him and showing him all the amazing ways our country has remembered its soldiers. Most of all, I just look forward to spending time with him.

Developing Your Gift from God

Yesterday, a man spoke in church about how when we are born God gives each of us a talent. That talent is left for us to discover because, sometimes, it’s not an immediate revelation. While some find it when they are children others may encounter theirs when they are adults. That talent is for us to do what we may with it. We can develop it. We can hide it. We can share it with others. We can teach others about it so they can increase theirs. Some are truly blessed and have multiple talents.

While I’m not the best vocalist, I do try and share what I think is my talent. It is such a joy for me to watch people dance to our music whether it’s the cover of a song or an original that was penned from my own hand. When the clubs are filled with patrons having a good time it makes my heart smile and I know God is happy with me.

The most wonderful part of my job is the children. When they are at the campgrounds and family functions I love to include them. When you think about it, little children are not the usual audience to attend a national concert on the stages of Bangor or Portland. When we, as a band, perform at these functions, we are the first “concert” they actually see. The children will come up to the stage and stare at the instruments. Others will stand right in front of me and watch my sparkling microphone. These are things they’ve never seen in real life. The music doesn’t come out of a tiny box or cell phone. They aren’t watching it as it is Chrome-casted on a television screen in a YouTube video.

It’s live. And to them, it’s amazing!

We have the kids come up on stage and dance or sing or, if we have it, play the tambourine. From that moment on, that’s all they can think about. I wish I had saved each message from a parent saying “Ever since we saw you play that‘s all my child thinks about. He/she wants a guitar/drums/microphone for their birthday/Christmas!”

We planted a seed.

A seed of music in a young child is a powerful thing. Studies have been shown that music helps a child learn and study better. They are better students because they can focus on a task because they focus on learning a song or a riff or a drumbeat. It helps them overcome shyness because they start to perform in front of others or join a group that makes them work with others. They can nourish that seed and, if they want, have it grow into one of the most wonderful talents a person can have and one of the easiest things to share.

I see the seeds in my own children growing. Jayden has taken to the drums like a natural. Brad has been playing guitar for years and has started talking about starting his own band with his friends. Anderson is now singing loud and proud at church. They see me and Chad and how hard we work at our music and it is rubbing off on them. We would never force them to play but we will encourage them when they are practicing. It’s our jobs as parents to help them nourish their talent.

It’s also my responsibility as an entertainer to give 150% each time I perform. In every crowd there is always someone that has never heard us. We may do the same 60 songs at every gig but there is no excuse for not giving it your all every time. You only have one chance to make a good first impression. I refuse to let that chance slip by because you never know who that one person is. It could be someone looking to hire your band for an event. It could be the next Jimi Hendrix or Carrie Underwood watching you play or sing. You will never know the affect you have on others.

Take your gift from God and make it grow. Whether it is music, teaching, sports…it doesn’t matter. Discover your gift and develop it. It will not only fill your heart but it will fill others. And you can be sure God will be smiling.