A Veritable Mish Mash of Random Things, P.4

Still Even More, a Little Bit About Everything

Once again, the first Tuesday of the month is our Random Things column; a short and sweet look at a whole bunch of random things. This month - on the road and speeding into the future.

The Silence Remains

Pentatonix crashes open with an explosion of lights and a wall of sound that seems impossible from only five mouths.

“That sounds like drums, daddy,” she says. Actually she has to shout this. While this show is nowhere near the ear busting tsunami of The Warning show we saw a week earlier, Saratoga Springs Arts Center is a loud and perfect venue; Scott, Mitch and Kirsty’s voices ring clear and true.

Little Bean jumps into the aisle to get a better view. We’re only about 20 rows up, and dead center. Not bad! I take a quick peak behind us, but the usher smiles and gives me a thumbs up. The kid can stay in the aisle.

Pentatonix transitions from a blistering version of “Radioactive” into their new single, “I Rise.” It’s one of her favorite songs and she jumps and waves her plastic, light up wand she brought home from Circus Soleil a couple months ago.

Parenting, as it turns out, is just a series of sampling that follows basically three paths. One, there are things you like and because you like them, she likes them too. Two, there are things you like that she likes and retains on her own. Three, there are things you like that she hates.

She loves Pentatonix. I’m optimistic this will become her own thing.

There’s a serious moment now as the group moves into the low tones of their version of “Sounds of Silence” and Little Bean sits down on the arm rest of her aisle chair. I move over to her seat so she can lean on me as Scott’s low baritone moves through that famous first verse.

“And the vision that was planted in my brain, Still remains…”

The lights from the stage shine on my daughter’s face. If life is a mosaic of moments, I pray this one moment will carry me through to the silence.

Rapturous!

The Lights That Shine

In the evening, after the show, she’s hyper and over excited, having trouble falling asleep - the music and lights and perhaps sugar, dancing in her head.

Our third floor hotel room features a wide, open window that faces, well, what I’d normally describe as an American strip. From our window, we have a clear line of site of the highway, a Taco Bell, a McDonalds and the hotel parking lot.

I’m laying in bed watching her be unsettled, tossing and turning, until she finally gets up, walks over to the couch near the window and settles in there.

“Daddy,” she says in a sleepy voice, “I love this view.”

“Which part,” I say, “the McDonalds?”

She giggles. “No, the cobwebs.”

“What?”

“Come’er.”

Outside, a fierce storm is sweeping through, the downpour causing puddles of reflection on the concrete. I crawl out of bed and stand next to her, squinting to see through the storm.

“The lights,” she says, “under the lights.”

Sure enough. Under the rainy glow of the parking lot lights, straining against the wind, enormous cobwebs sway in the storm. Raindrops shimmer along the strands. Without the dark or the storm or the fast food glare, we likely would never have even noticed. In fact, I didn’t. She did though.

I sit down next to her. It’s nearly midnight. She puts her head on my shoulder and we sit there for a while; our hearts and heads full of music and newness, three stories up, the semi-trucks barrelling by in the rain, a dad and daughter watching cobwebs glow in the rain.

The cobwebs glow.

Mall Rats

My daughter and her friend want to go to the mall and I’m happy to oblige. But they are eight and ten. Just about old enough to let them wander around on their own, but we’re not quite there yet.

Just about old enough to become true mall rats, but young enough to be uncertain with being without an adult. Young enough to want me to stay close, but old enough to not let anybody else know I’m staying close.

I get it.

We’re in that fuzzy middle ground, that ever ebbing line between the water and the sand. They are testing what it feels like to be free, but they don’t want to push too far out away from the shore. Yet.

So I stick a decent bit behind them as they wander, two little girls, not wanting to be little, reaching for the world in candy stores and arcades and earring kiosks. I look away briefly and lose track of them, but see the Claire’s up ahead. I pause there, leaning against a post - like a million dads before me - and eventually they come out. Each has bought a little trinket.

“How did you know we were in there?” Little Bean asks.

“I always know where you are,” I say.

They smile and hand me their little bags, so now I’m regulated to pack horse as well. They laugh and run out ahead, and the play begins again - just a dad trying to keep the passing of time at bay for as long as he can.

Coming next: Of Low Tide, Sea Wind and Salt, a Reflection. Stay tuned.

---

Housekeeping - Friends, I hope you’ve all been having a memorable summer. Hard to believe we’re already in the thick of September. In about six weeks we’ll hit one year for this crazy little community and it’s been so thrilling to watch this “little” community expand at such a pace.

So, a treat for you. I haven’t figured out the prizes yet, but I suspect they will be something like a signed PDF from an upcoming book or a special passage. Not sure. But the contest will be simple - we’ll have a subscriber referral campaign. Refer Day By Day to some friends, get them to sign up and we’ll do something like, bring me five referrals for the special prize. Shouldn’t be that hard and I love building our community. Keep your eyes open for that.

Meantime, keep on keeping on. Tell us how your summer was and what you have planned for the fall? Going to any shows? Hiking? Tell me something weird and interesting.

Let’s go!