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patterns of ink

How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka

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Location: Lake Michigan Shoreline, Midwest, United States

By Grace, I'm a follower of Christ. By day, I'm a recently retired school administrator; by night (and always), I'm a husband and father (and now a grandfather); and by week's end, I sometimes find myself writing or reading in this space. Feel free to join in the dialogue.

Saturday, December 01, 2018

The Carpenter's Christmas Album of 1978:

A Timeless Classic

Here in West Michigan there are at least two radio stations that begin playing Christmas music all day and night—STARTING THE MORNING AFTER HOLLOWEEN! And thousands of people tune in. I know because  my wife is one of them. which means: my three daughters (now married) pretty much do the same.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Christmas music. Hard to imagine a bigger fan, but if pumpkins are still on porches; and trees are still laden with leaves; and the pilgrims have not yet had their moment on stage; it’s hard for me to get fully caught up in Christmas music.

This year was a little different for two reasons: First, we had measurable snow early in November. Put a nice blanket of white on the ground and flock the evergreens I pass on the way to work, and I’m ready to hear Bing Crosby describing the scene. Second, we treated Thanksgiving like Christmas  this year by having the tree in place complete with presents and even a sleigh ride (though by then the snow had melted and we had wheels rather than runners). This early Christmas was due to the fact that our three girls are scheduled to have Christmas with their husband’s family this year so we will be a few states away with Julie’s parents. It’s a cycle that works amazingly well.

So here we are on the first day of December, and I’ve been hearing hours of Christmas music for a month. This would have never happened forty years ago in my life.

When I was a kid, Christmas music was totally out of context until after the Hudson’s Thanksgiving Parade in Detroit. If we were not watching the parade on TV, we were literally down in Detroit watching the parade from the curb. The last float was, of course, a huge sleigh with Santa at the reigns. The mayor of Detroit gave Santa the “Key to the City” in front of Hudson’s [which merged with Dayton's and later gave birth to Target]. Once Santa was in town, it was okay to play Christmas music through New Year’s Day.  Even when I went away to college in 1974, the late November start to Christmas music was my rule of thumb.

Thanksgiving Break began the giddy countdown for the trip home for Christmas Break. The emotions of that three-week gauntlet of classes, concerts, and calendar “X”s on the page seemed perfectly choreographed to a never-ending Yuletide playlist echoing through the halls of the dorms.

It was the Christmas of 1978 that my brother Paul welcomed us home by playing a new Christmas album the morning after my brother Dave and I finished the ten-hour trip up I-75 back to Michigan. The first Carpenter’s Christmas Album is probably the best seasonal album of all time. Rather than a collection of separate tracks, both sides play seamlessly in a blend of sacred and seasonal, solo and choral, holiday hits. It was also the album that showcased Karen's "Merry Christmas, Darling," which quickly became a favorite of college kids all across the country who found themselves very happy to be home with family but painfully lonesome for their sweetheart states away.


To enjoy the full effect of what is called the "non-stop" original album, click below. The first five minutes is an orchestral overture, a touch that lets us know they knew this was no ordinary album.


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Monday, June 04, 2007

My Confession from the 70's

I’m going out on a limb in this post and confessing something from my past that some may find very hard to believe. It's not that millions of people weren't doing the same thing in the 70's. It's just that some will be shocked to learn that I was hooked.

I’m sure others will simply say. “I never really thought about it, Tom, but why does this not surprise me? Youth is full of youthful indiscretions. So reading here that, during the turbulence of the 70’s, you’d spend hours in your basement "lost to the world" in this way is not shocking. In fact, I used to do the exact same thing.”

It’s true. I never tired of it… in the basement…in my brother’s car… or on my bedroom floor staring up at the ceiling. Eventually, I began mainlining the stuff into my head through a huge pair of headphones.

Yes, I was a Carpenters junkie. All albums, both sides. In fact, I learned tonight that I haven't fully recovered from those days and a dose of Karen still takes me to a sweet place in my mind. Some of you are gagging at the thought; some of you are not surprised at all; and some younger readers are wondering "Karen who?"
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If you’ve been reading here for a while or if you browse the archives, you’ll know I had a very conservative upbringing (that I wouldn’t trade for the world, by the way). My parents deprived their kids of all sorts of depravity. Certain bands and types of music were forbidden in our house. All the heavy metal, drug-friendly, anti-authority, "hard/acid rock,” etc. of the day was strictly taboo.
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Parenting is full of tough calls, and I’m glad Mom and Dad were willing to “dig in” on issues that 20 years later we’d all smile about. I survived, and my paper route/bus boy money went a lot further because my brother Paul purchased lots of [mostly] “Dad-approved” records. He had every Letterman album ever pressed on vinyl. A few Simon and Garfunkel and Bread albums slipped under Dad’s radar. My brothers and I lifted our Sears Ted Williams weights to S&G all the time (back when biceps mattered =).

When it came time, however, for me to plumb the depths of love and romance and guarded innocence, it was the sterling voice of Karen Carpenter that taught me everything I needed to know at the time.

A new invention called the cassette tape recorder had just hit the market. Mine had a built in mike that allowed me to take my brother’s stereo speakers off the wall and aim them at my tape recorder to make not-so-hi-fi recordings of all his Carpenters albums, complete with background noise from the basement.
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I can't begin to explain the strange time warp I've been in this evening listening to these songs. Hearing this many of them in one sitting has taken me back to a time I'd nearly forgotten when feelings of love were new and thoughts of life loomed infinitely in front of me.
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I began remembering specific scenes form life as this music played tonight. For instance: driving home at night with Dad up I-75 after dropping my sister and two brothers off at college. I was stretched out on the back seat listening to the Carpenters for hours. After the song "It's Going to Take Some Time this Time," Dad broke a long silence, "I liked that line about the young trees learning to bend in the winter time." I failed to grasp that he wasn't thinking about trees.

Ten hours before, he had left three of his five kids 700 miles from home, and we would not see them until Christmas. Kathy was a college Junior, Paul a sophomore, and Dave a freshman. I was a high school junior, and my little brother Jim was four. In three year's time, our 3-bedroom house had gone from over-crowded to quiet. I knew those years were hard for Mom, Jim and me, but I didn't learn until much later that Dad sometimes cried in private when it was "one more round for experience and [he was] on the road again."
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I've added several "pick and choose" video Youtube links in red below, including a TV special that tells the story of how this brother and sister act went from “rejection” to “The Top of the World” and the end of the road. If you watch all of the links, it could won't last a a day, but perhaps you'll watch some now and come back some "rainy day" when you need a place to "Hideaway."As you watch, you'll wonder, “Were we ever really that innocent.” We must have been, because my friends and I alone didn't send these songs up the charts.

Maybe it's just me, but I miss Karen Carpenter. Next February marks 25 years since her untimely death. She would now be 57, and "for all we know" a "Superstar" in the middle of a come-back tour (like the one Barry Manilow enjoyed for over a decade).
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"We've only just begun" to enjoy these "Songs for You." "Sometimes," it's nice to just sit back and imagine it's "Yesterday Once More" without "Hurting Each Other." Here a young Richard Carpenter explains to a live audience why their "layered" studio harmonies were not possible in live performances (or like this one on the Carol Burnett show). When Karen sang "Ave Maria" in this Christmas special it highlighted her natural ability to let a song sing itself. It seems like "Only Yesterday" that my brothers and I were playing air guitar to "Good bye to Love."
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The closest current performer to come along who could "cover" The Carpenters songs may be 2006 American Idol runner up, Katherine McPhee, but even she lacks the easy flow of voice and genuinely wholesome quality of Karen Carpenter.
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Bless you for clicking some links and watching an old friend make music. If you'd like to see the whole Carpenter story, here are seven sequential links to a televised tribute hosted by Richard Carpenter: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7.
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This post dedicated to my brother Paul whose vast vinyl collection--from Gershwin to Garfunkel--added an unforgettable soundtrack to our lives.

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