Category Archives: Wealth and Fame

Two Musical Untruths and the Excellence of Pentatonix

I never had a favorite band.

Wait.  That’s not quite true.  As a person whose tag line is often, raising young musicians, I have had numerous favorite bands.

I’ve never purchased a ticket to a live concert before.

That too, is incorrect.

I paid my own way into more than a spate of excellent Colorado Children’s Chorale performances and winning Conifer High School Marching Band competitions. I have bartered, finagled and roadied my way into fog-machine-filled venues and housed bands in my basement.

Kevin at the Mesa, 2010
Kevin at the Mesa, 2010

But those memories are long ago and far away.  In every case, I was acquainted with someone in the band and the band knew me.

This is the first time I have avidly followed a band where I did not know the performers personally and none of them even knew I existed.

When I was young, I never had a heartthrob celebrity musician.  No Shaun and David Cassidys.  No Bobby Sherman.  The Justin Biebers of my youth were unrealistic and inaccessible to me and I knew it.

Precisely because I did raise young musicians, I was privileged numerous glimpses, backstage and frontstage, of the level of excellence possible-and the price of achieving it. Because I operated mom’s taxi far and wide to deliver a youthful male soprano to multiple performance locations, because I was the one who laundered and pressed wardrobe every night during the heavy Christmas performance season, I understand what type of all-inclusive family commitment it takes to launch a superstar.

Philip (center) and Colorado Children's Chorale wardrobe closet
Philip (center) and Colorado Children’s Chorale wardrobe closet

I get the idea of all consuming: eat, drink and breathe music in order to be one-take wonders.  It is for those reasons and more I revere Pentatonix.

I stumbled on them accidentally post Sing Off 2011 and I watched Sing Off clips over and over.  I chuckled at Video Killed the Radio Star and truly came to believe The Dog Days Are Over.  I pressed repeat on the deserved compliments from Shawn Stockman.  It was impressed upon me that three of them were 19 – the age of my youngest son at the time. Like a high school girl, I sleuthed through biographies and YouTube and found the lead trio attended high school together.  Be still my beating heart.  What would it have been like to be their music teacher?  To have those three in my class?  YouTube also yielded the depth of multi-talent, experience and character for Avi and Kevin – the rhythm section – who are, coincidentally, my daughter’s age.

It is fitting I have a favorite band. I need excellence in my life.  I will pursue it, laud it, achieve it.

To that end, I purchased a best seat available ticket to a Pentatonix concert and betook myself to Orem Utah by private motor coach (which, in the common vernacular means I drove my Subaru).

Only briefly was there quiet enough to hear the close velvet harmonies and sonorous intertwining of finely exercised and tuned vocal cords. But I did get to witness the deafening roar of the crowd and unmitigated appreciation for five über talented performers.

Excellence can and should have its reward and I am satisfied.

Pentatonix concert Orem UT March 2015
Pentatonix concert Orem UT March 2015

 

 

 

I am mildly disappointed in The Hunger Games

Cherry Odelberg, photo credit Kevin Decker 2010

I have just finished reading The Hunger Games.  It was a great book. I am mildly dissatisfied with the conclusion.  Before I proceed to analyze why, I am sure you have one of two possible reactions which must be dealt with before you can concentrate on what I have to say.

1. Why are you just now getting around to reading this book?

OR

2. What is a 58 year old woman doing reading a YA fiction book?

The simple answer to both questions is: I am a writer, mother, grandmother and I hold down job(s) in the real world.

The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins, 2008), is more than a dawning of love between vampires or fidelity and character among institutional witches and it is worth a thorough read.

The overall narrative initially and consistently reminded me of Animal Farm or Brave New World, a couple of futuristic stories in the junior great books anthologies, and some ancient myth.  It is a book to entertain, to take you on adventure, to make you think. And thinking is what I did as I turned pages – faster and faster into the wee hours.

My first disappointment came with Peeta. I wanted him to be less passive, more warrior.  But he is only sixteen.  How much can you expect of a 16 year old, a grasp of all the virtues and character traits including Love?  These are issues I yet ponder at my age and I am a voracious reader in part due to my endless search for the ideal. Peeta certainly grasps the essence of unconditional and enduring love. Also, it is hard to find fault with his determined philosophy to not let the competition change who he is.  Why do I have trouble with his inactivity and passivity, do I not truly believe all you need is love?

My lingering disappointment has to do with the ending. She took the fruit and gave some to him – but they didn’t eat it, not really, they only pretended to. They outsmarted the gamekeepers and the Capitol, but, in so doing, did they compromise who they were? What if they had taken the fruit and swallowed it? Might rebellion have broken out  in the districts immediately?

Perhaps a Romeo and Juliet suicide is not the proper death to glamorize as an example to the YA of today. We have been aware of a high suicide rate among the young ever since I was in high school. Publishers, gatekeepers, vocal Christians and psychologists alike would frown on a dual suicide ending. No, besides ending the writer’s opportunity for a Katniss and Peeta sequel, a suicide ending too, would have been disappointing.

So, for the sake of honor.  For the sake of everything good and right and true and heroic.  I would have a true martyr’s ending. It would have been impossible not to cry. As it was, my only tears while reading the book were brought on by the district 11 bread parachute.

In my ending, Peeta flung his knife. Katniss laid down her bow. They were shot instantly for their rebellion and disobedience. Rebellion in districts 12 and 11 broke out and was widely imitated in other districts. Were their families in danger?  Of course. Family is always in danger. It is simply a matter of drawing a line in the sand sooner. In this way, Peeta’s integrity remains intact as does Katniss’s courageous honor. As it was, she took the fruit and gave some also to Adam, I mean Peeta, and the ideal took a step backwards.  But, they were only 16 after all. How could they know that the integrity of their controlled Universe rested on one decision; that all hell would later break loose; that they would live only to fight again?

Money makes me happy

When money makes me happy, should I feel shallow?

Money makes me happy.  Oh, I know that money can’t buy happiness, yet, over the years, I have noticed that having a little makes me happy. When I acknowledge this, I feel shallow, superficial, frivolous; because we all know this is wrong.  For instance:

The love of money is the root of all evil.

You can’t serve God and mammon.

Money isn’t everything.

But;

Money buys events

Money can buy the opportunity to be with your friends socially.

Money is what we give the utilities company and landlord to keep the bill collectors at bay.

Could it be it is the events, the friends, that make me happy?

Perhaps the happiness comes from the security of being able to pay my bills this month.

I stopped feeling guilty about being happy over money when I realized the truth of these words by Tony Robbins:  “Progress equals happiness.”

I found that small gem of wisdom, as well as the one that follows,  on Michael Hyatt’s blog site, Intentional Leadership.

According to Dr. Timothy Pychyl, writing in Psychology Today:

… the successful pursuit of meaningful goals plays an important role in the development and maintenance of our psychological well-being. To the extent that we’re making progress on our goals, we’re happier emotionally and more satisfied with our lives.” (Dr. Timothy Pyschyl, Psychology Today)

I should not feel guilty that money makes me happy any more than I feel superficial that good grades make me happy.  Both are a sign of hard work, achievement and progress toward my goal. It is time to be more satisfied with my life.

The Desires of the Heart

I believe that it is healthy for a person to follow his or her dreams.  I am not talking here of nonsensical, unrealistic, idle daydreams.  I am referring to God given desires of the heart which are inherent in the temperament one is born with. I am talking about dreams that are the substance of what I am meant to be. The deep, sometimes secret, desires that will not be squashed, will not be denied, no matter how hard I try to distract myself with other busyness and obligation.

In addition to embracing the emotional and spiritual health that comes from pursuing the person I am meant to be, via following my dreams and passions; I continue to ask the God of the universe to grant me good vision-the perception to know the good thing when I see it. It is not always easy to see the dream when you are living it.  The cliché, “Can’t see the forest for the trees,” expresses it simply.

The Innovative Minister of Music

There was a time, at the tender age of 29; that I thought my life was over, washed up, truncated, and I would never get to see my dreams fulfilled no matter how long I lived.  That dream, which had been instilled in me as a child, was that I was destined for full time ministry. At 29 I was recently divorced, but all the passions to serve and minister were still intact. I already knew that maverick leadership and ministry carries tough challenges.   It is difficult to minister effectively without a Paraclete, a sidekick or right hand man.  Imagine Batman without Robin, Roy Rogers without Dale Evans-or even Simon without Garfunkel. Nevertheless, I determined to move forward.  Being alone and divorced seemed insurmountable and I spent a number of days grieving that I would never be able to fulfill my calling.  Some 18 months later the realization began to dawn that I was ministering full-time; just not in the traditional way I had always envisioned it.

I was teaching piano lessons to 20 young people each week, enriching those little lives and building into their futures.  I was working 20 hours per week as a radio announcer for a nonprofit station, ministering to listeners in the most lonely hours of the evening and weekend.  And, I was raising a uniquely gifted son who would go on to influence a broader audience (with more confidence) than I ever had.

All the World’s a Stage

Playing piano and radio announcing make an easy morph (metamorphosis) to a passion for performance.  I could not ignore the siren call of the stage, the studio, the microphone, though I was fearful and timid.  Today I can say, “I have found my stage.”  Of all places: in the classroom. Yes, there is a designated body of information I must teach; narrow parameters to what I can do with my creativity.  But, my classroom is my stage.  I have 27 minutes in which to wow my audience; to leave them laughing or pondering a new concept. I have 27 minutes to minister to 27 wiggly (or apathetic) bodies and provide them an opportunity to become better, to broaden their body of knowledge and experience, to taste performance.  I am who I am meant to be. I am living my dream.  I am doing all I can do to empower them to live theirs-to be all they can be.

Crescent Moon and the Tequila Patron

June 19, 2009

It was dark when I boarded the train in Emeryville at 10:00 P.M. last night.  The train was crowded, the steward brusque, and I did not have a window seat.  I did, however; see a large, orange, crescent moon glowing in the east.  That was my last vision until opening my eyes this morning to an entire snow clad range – and Mount Shasta.  The scenery in Utah was very like that of Western Colorado.  The mountains and trees on entering both California and Oregon, much the same as the mountains of Colorado.  The difference lies in the altitude, the attitude, the humidity – and the cities.  Each city has its own personality and inherent flair.

Speaking of inherent flair; I am in the last coach car and tugged along behind us is a vintage private car.  Owned by the founder of Paul Mitchell hair products and currently on excursion with owner and guests aboard; they are bound, I am told (by the employee who came out on the palm decorated platform) for a ranch in Montana.

When we detrained in Seattle, the announcer bid us well and then commented that those passengers in the final car might look out and get a quick peek at Dan Aykroyd who had been traveling with us (at the estimated fee of $10,000 just to tag along).

Wondering which tale was correct, I googled Tequila Patron this morning and here is what I found:  Legend has it that Dan Aykroyd, DeJoria (owner of Paul Mitchell) and chums hatched the idea for House of Blues in this train car.

The car itself is a celebrity and movie star… She was a beauty.  I would happily have paid admission to see inside – forget the humans.

http://www3.timeoutny.com/chicago/blog/out-and-about/2009/05/choo-choo-patron-tequila-express-and-the-paradiso-girls-pull-into-town/

More Houses, In Route From Here to There and Back Again

“I sold that house, there, last week.”

“They’ve already moved in.”

“Oh, yeah, at closing. That’s the one with the tiger wood floor – imported from Brazil, got a good deal on it, nice light / dark stripe running down the board like this sample.”

“Exotic.”

“Now, this house here, we can go inside; it has bamboo flooring first time I’ve used bamboo, not sure I like it as well as the tiger wood.”

“I’ve heard it’s the new thing, a bit more green.”

“Supposed to be, but I don’t know.”

“Wow!  This is nice!  I do like the light color of the bamboo.”

“Come on upstairs.  Four bedrooms and a bonus room up there.”

“I love this cubby over the stairs, I’d put my desk here under the window and use it as a writer’s nook.”

“Everyone that has looked at this house likes that nook.  They say immediately, ‘I could put this or that here.’…funny thing, the realtors all said that wouldn’t go over well.  The plan had a two  story open staircase right here and called for a hanging chandelier,  I had the framers change it.”

“You have an architect and a designer?”

“I’m the designer.”

“You take the idea to an architect?”

“I do my own plans.”

Driving through the neighborhood:

“I built that house there, and the one behind it…

Now over here I had to wait to tear down the old rental and then add half a lot which I bought from the lady next door and then subdivide the new lot into two…This cul-de-sac we’re coming up on, I built these 5 houses about 20 years ago, when your dad was up here.  He helped me clear the property…

“The lady in that house?  That rancher? I didn’t build her house, but, she would vote for me for president if I ran.”

“She really likes you, huh.  You get to know her while you were building?”

“She has a nice little lattice work surrounding the patio out there in the backyard, you see?  She has an outdoor shower out there and she likes to go out the do her yoga and exercise and meditate in the outdoor shower.”

“Ah, you didn’t put windows in that side of the house you built next door?”

“I went in with two plans.  One was a split level, and this one is a cut out where the lower level roof extends about 10 feet further out than the upper level and the upper level has windows in the front and back, but none to the side.  No neighbors will ever be able to peep into her backyard.”

Driving through the larger community:

“I built that house… I have a permit out to build on this lot… This lot is planned for 5 houses, had to build a special water vault for that, should have gone for just four houses there… and, I can’t get the excavator to finish his job… remember when the garden used to be here?”

“And the rental?  Yes.  Did you build both of those?”

Affirmative grunt.

“It must be kind of satisfying to drive around town and see everything you have built, besides stuff you worked on while serving on the planning commission.  Do you know how many houses you’ve built?”

“Don’t know.  Probably about sixty, I haven’t counted recently.”

“I think we have seen about 12 or 14 today.”

“To tell you the truth, I think I am kind of reluctant to actually sit down and count.  It was kind of on that “bucket list” as you call it to build a hundred houses here before I quit and I’m afraid to count because I might fall short.”

“So, if you built 99 houses you fall short and are disappointed?  And if you built 101, you have over – reached your goal and have to stop?  I don’t think that is the idea of goal sitting and the bucket list.”

I think, in fact, gentle reader, that I am in the presence of a very modest, understated, specimen of the American work ethic and middle age success.

I Can’t Be Miss America

Dear Readers,

I am taking a poll.  It is multiple choice.  Please answer A, B, or C.

I was never crowned Miss America or Miss USA because:

A)  I do not look like a Barbie Doll

B)  I have an opinion, but I am inarticulate and cannot express that opinion

C)  I have a traditional opinion which differs from yours

Dear Reader. why do you think I, your very own Eine Feisty Berg, was never crowned Miss America?

I Don’t Baby-sit. I Raise Future Presidents

I teach music; in a Core Knowledge Charter School.  From time to time I am accosted or confronted by angry parents who think I am picking on their child, or just too plain strict in general.I have heard parents say such things as, “Why should the kids have to be quiet in the halls?  That’s only for the teacher’s convenience.”  “Why should the kids have to keep their eyes on the director?”  “Music should be fun.  Why are there any rules at all?” 

I don’t baby-sit.  I raise future presidents. 

I don’t GIVE students a grade.  The student EARNS a grade. 

If the ability to sing is a natural, genetic gift; then I would be wholly in error to GIVE a grade based on singing ability. 

The ability to perform music correctly is a learned behavior; therefore any one can earn a good grade through giving one’s best effort. 

About those rules:  I raise future presidents! Eight years ago I was saying, “Of course the students have to stand up straight.  I raise future presidents, no one is ever going to call one of my former students, ‘slouch Bush,’ when (s)he is debating for the presidency. 

Today I am saying, “Of course they have to assume the correct stance when singing the National Anthem, of course they must learn to sing The Star Spangled Banner.”  Just last week I reminded the fourth grade that one’s hand goes over the heart; we don’t salute unless in full / authentic military uniform.  Obama is a fine young man.  I should have been his music teacher. 

Fame is the Pitts, but it can be a bit Jolie

So, how does one achieve the precise amount of notoriety to keep all the jolly and avoid the pits?

I have been musing on this dilemma much lately; not only as I construct this Blog, but also as I search for the optimum job, make efforts to get my books published and marketed, and balance conflicting desires:  Stage and Studio verses Cave and Quiet; Retirement and Leisure verses Aspiration and Acquirement; Security verses Adventure.  I am too conscientious to throw care to the wind and be a free spirit; too responsible to retire and leave things undone; too fearful and conservative to take unnecessary risks. In the end, as always, the final word is survival; and hierarchy of need triumphs.

Yet; one must remember the intent of Carpe Diem. One must be reminded of Emerson’s fine admonition:  “Sail into port grandly, or be content to sail with God the seas!”