On questions...

Good People of the Internet, allow me to set the scene.

I’m sitting in bed at 9:58 on a Tuesday night. Sonny Rollins’ “Decision” is confidently giving my computer’s speakers a lesson in how to swing. I’m staring at the white space on my virtual notebook page. I’ve experienced this empty canvas countless times before, curiously waiting and watching, to see how it will be filled. On tonight’s agenda, questions. I can’t say that all questions will have answers. Then again, I can’t say any of them will. We’ll just have to see where things go…

1. If I type loud enough, will someone listen? This question has been floating around in my head for a while. I’ve batted at the idea of writing professionally. I don’t know that I have the chops to do it, nor the discipline. The former is easy enough to come by with practice. The latter is a much taller order but I’m working on it. Until I am catapulted out of the realm of the self-published, however, I am but a mere blogger and an occasional one at that. Some folks sit at a workstation spewing out pages of opinions, editorials, articles, how to’s and the like without giving it a second thought. I can’t seem to get two entries out in a month. How can I expect to compete with the type sheer amount of information out there and more importantly, the quality of it?

Of late, I’ve been working overtime to feed my muse. I’ve bathed my ears in fictional short stories, real life tales of triumph and woe, and much more. I have come to the conclusion that there are some folks out there who can seriously wield a pen, or in cases like mine, a keyboard. While the intent is to inspire, these deposits of literary prowess can have the opposite effect and drive me away from my writing desk.

“All anyone can ask of you is that you do your best. After that, it’s not up to you.” My dad offered these words to me in a way that only a loving father can. So good people, that is what I strive to offer every time. If god wants me to pursue a writing career, He’ll equip me for that journey.

There are a few other questions I have worked out yet. Perhaps you may have an answer.
2. Why do people have to lose something to appreciate it value?
3. Why is it so hard to keep a living room clean?
4. Why does time seem to slip away so easily when you want it to stand still yet drag on forever when you need it to fly?
5. Why is Miles Davis the coolest dude ever?
6. Why is love so powerful? It evokes the widest range of actions of any emotion; unbridled bliss to utter loathing. Why do we humans let it matter so much?
7. What’s the deal with sex? Is it more influential than love? Who said it was okay to saturate our society with its images and symbols? It is such a simple, primitive act at it’s most basic yet sex seems to be the most interesting/inflammatory subject in a room full of people.
Man, this feels like an essay test. That’s enough cat-killing curiosity for now. Thanks for reading.
-The truth, because Sesame Street said, “questions are the way to learn about things”

On snow days...

Good People of The Internet, I'm trying a new tactic. In an effort to keep writing and current, I'm just sitting down to compose with no intended topic just a mission to produce something worth reading. Hopefully it won't suck. (No pressure.)

On Monday March 2, we had a snow day. A snow day! I mean an honest to goodness schools closed, don't come in to work or rehearsals snow day. It prompted a host of movies on demand, naps, snacks, and a walk to the local pizza shop. It was the most welcome snow storm I've experienced in recent years. I reminisced about the days of old when I awoke to mom or dad stealing in to my room and whispering "it's snowing out." My tired, sleep-encrusted eyes would instantly give way to shining beacons of hope as I'd run to the nearest window to check on God's progress getting me out of school.

A snow day's value and meaning seem to diminish the older we get. As little tike (yeah i said tike, you wanna fight about it?), Snow meant one thing: serious play time. I got bundled me up in a my coat, hat, gloves, and if it was really serious, the snow pants with the suspenders (you know what I talking about). I'd waddle outside, warm, cozy and almost immobile, but happy to be in the midst of this beautiful wintry landscape. How much cooler could it get? Mold it, sculpt it, eat it. The snow is what I made it.

As we get older, the snow day gets more utilitarian. Perhaps it get us out of a quiz we forgot to study for, or gives us an extra day to finish that english paper. We might still go out to play; a snowball fight, a sled ride down a hill or two. In the back of our minds, however, we knew that one good plowing day would set the life back into motion.

Once out in the real world, it really becomes jive. Now you have to get up and shovel "to keep from getting sued." Then you have to find a sitter to hang with the kids while you head for work on unplowed roadways, fishtailing all the while. The car stops when it wants to. To add insult to injury, your non waterproof gloves got soaked while you were clearing the snow off the car. Grumbles....

Hopefully, the scenario above doesn't have you cursing at your computer. The point of this post is to take a look how the significance of snow days change as we age. The charge of this post is to return to the days of snowpants, mittens and endless possibilities. There is something so moving about snow yet so eerie. As it falls, there is a certain stillness that sets in. A fresh coating absent of footprints, paw prints and tire tracks give even the dirtiest street a fresh start. Let the unblemished canvas of new snowfall represent a fresh start and a calm before the days challenges begin. Use the windblown snow squalls as an excuse to cuddle up with loved ones, good books and the "On Demand" channel. Above all else, to a moment to admire respect God's work. Thanks for reading.

-Truth, looking for my shovel, and marshmallows for the hot chocolate...

On keeping up to date…

Greetings, Good People of the Internet! It has been far too long. Please accept my humblest apologies for letting so much time pass between our little chats. I am writing to you tonight in an effort to re-identify Reestablish. Revive. Rescue. Reuse, Reduce, and Recycle. Well, maybe not the last three. Mostly, to reconnect. I am writing to you tonight to reconnect to you, my reader, and perhaps more importantly, to my inner writer, critic comedian, and Shakespearian. In short, to reconnect to those things that made me start writing in the first place, many of which have been rendered dormant by life’s challenges and struggles. So here I am staring at the screen of my computer, Miles Davis’ muted trumpet caressing my eardrums (just like the days of old!), ready to pour out my heart and soul and in the process reclaim and maybe even reinvent myself. (I thought of those last two “re” words during the editing process. ;-)

Now on to business.

I’m Getting Married. (Go ahead, I’ll wait… What? Yes, “married” married; rings, cake, dress and all.) It’s a big deal and I’m super excited. My sweetheart is such an amazing woman and to say I’m lucky to have her is the definition of understatements. A better description would be very, very blessed. Funny part about all of this is we really started to connect because she was reading and responding to my blogs in the very beginning. HA! How could I abandon something that brought such perks? Mind blowing, I know.

My wedding is coming up fast and furious at the end of September. The 25th to be exact. Preparations are in the works and things are coming together slowly but surely. I’ve been toying with the idea of special posts solely about the process and what I’m going through/thinking as challenges arise and events take place. One phenomenon I was unaware of was the concept of the bridal showcase. That will be certainly be on my list of things to talk about in coming installments. If can offer one piece of advice to couples entering the wedding industry barrage in the global communication age, setup an email address specifically for people to send you their propaganda. There will be a lot of it. More than you can even begin to imagine. Had we used our personal email addresses, we might’ve shut the servers down.

That’s it on the wedding for now. Be sure to check back for future updates, war stories and maybe even wedding cake recipes. ;-)

Since we’re already talking about big milestones, let us talk about President Barack Obama. (Don’t change that channel, I promise not to beat the dead horse too long.) I didn’t weigh in on any of the campaign proceedings, election or inauguration day, but since I’m staying in the keeping up to date theme, I just want to put some words down about this whole experience.

1. I believe that he can help the country and that he has the potential to be a great leader for the times that we are currently facing. Not only that, but the man carries himself like the leader of the free world should. Intelligent speeches, smart decision-making (at least so far) and he surrounds himself with clutch players. The next four years will be like nothing we’ve seen before with fresh faces, ideas and leadership.

2. On election night, we went to a birthday dinner for one of Steph’s friends. I was glued to the TV. When we left, I listened in the car. We when got to my place, I was glued to the TV. As the blue and red pixels filled the screen, I could feel the electricity in the air. When Charles Gibson said, “Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States,” I cried. A lot. I wasn’t expecting to. Sure I watched the debates and listened to what the pundits said but I didn’t do any volunteering or canvassing. I didn’t even hang an Obama sign. I just picked the best candidate for the job and trusted my fellow citizens to do the same. Nevertheless, I was moved to uncontrollable tears and hysterical laughter at the same time. I was so happy and proud of neighbors, colleagues and fellow citizens. To see the course of history change so drastically was something truly special.

I couldn’t help but think of the lives devastated and those lost to propel to the country to this point; those individuals who believed in something bigger themselves and took action to protect and enhance that belief. I’d say some “thanks yous” are in order. Then my thoughts turned to my grandparents and their fellow octogenarians and older. To see this man, half white, half black, all scholar take the stage and proclaim that “Change has come to America” in their lifetime has to be earth moving. Stories like that were all over the news in the days following the election and again on inauguration day. What a moment in history.

In the interest of keeping my wedding on track, I’m going to stop typing now and pay attention to my fiancé who has fallen asleep while still talking to me. Sort of. Thanks for reading.

-Truth, re-ordering flowers for his lady.

On Simpler Times...

Good People of the Internet, I have good news: I'm not dead. I've not been taken by martians (although sometimes it feels like it). I have not been stricken by awful, debilitating disease hampering my ability to communicate. No, my fate is none of these yet some might say it is just as bad: I've been uninspired. My life of late is a pseudo tragedy. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly thankful for all of the work and molding God is doing in my life but there's been more than a little shift.

On my way home from work today, I tuned into good old standby, WRTI 90.1FM. My windows were down, allowing a nice breeze to flow through the car. The sweet sounds of ride cymbal/walking bass, muted trumpet and understating piano comping floated through air on the back roads of Delaware County. It felt so familiar yet so different.

For years and years, That was the routine. I would climb in my truck after a hard day of school or work, tune in, and let the music surround me in a lush atmosphere of a different more artistic, more inspired time. Back then for a hard day at the office would a few classes, working on a paper, meeting with friends for a bite to eat and a discussion about music or current events. There would be time to get together with my fellow musician friends to play through some tunes or just get in to some grooves. Then later, My roommate and I would recount the days events and dive into homework or if we were lucky, an Xbox tournament of some kind.

These days, the college campus has been replaced by a warehouse filled with sound equipment, the papers and academic works by soldering, painting and wrapping cables. The bites to eat are still there but lively discussion is now handled by radio talk show hosts on the shop radio. Playing music with others has all but disappeared from my scope. My roommates are all gone but i do have a lovely fiance with whom i spend the majority of my off time. I have a Nintendo Wii, but plain ol' TV is so much easier.

Anymore it seems like i just don't have time to be creative and artistic. What's worse, I sometimes don't feel the need to be. My whole life I've been around music, living and breathing, rhythms, chord changes, genres, great records etc. Now it kinda feels like I've outgrown it. I still have a few outlets but nothing as grand as the aforementioned days. And I'm still mixing. People would constantly say to me "that's cool that you have something to fall back on." Now i find myself in danger of needing some music to fall back on.

This blog is sounding like a pity party and I don't want it to. The thing is more and more, I'm realizing that the musician in me is starving, a status I never thought I'd never reach. I'm not really sure how to proceed in feeding him. I need to work to continue on my path to financial security and marital bliss. The music while feeding my soul and spirit will not always appease Toyota Financial Services (my pimp). I'll keep working on keeping my musicianship serviceable but there's nothing like getting together with some cats to make something bigger than all of individuals.

A last word on this and then I'll leave you to your on devices. This past weekend I was mixing Gerald Veasley's band in Cleveland. For the encore, the drummer sang leaving the drum chair empty. The old Lucien who wanted nothing more than a chance to play on that level, would have rushed to the stage to fill in. That's the same guy that successfully filled that chair for a whole show with guest artist Kirk Whalum in an emergency personnel change. The new Lucien stood there, lashed to the mixing console like it was an oxygen mask underwater. I don't know who this guy is, but I don't like him that much...

Thanks for reading. I promise there is more to come.


-The Truth, Headed for the good ol' days.

On being Genuine...

Good People of the Internet, I have made my way back to my digital notebook! I spent some time with my big brother and constant source of comedic material, the one and only, Sir Will Brock. The more time I spend checking out Will’s vibe and zeal for educating himself, the more amazed I grow.
Our latest conversation dealt with issue of honesty. Not honesty as in telling mom who broke her lamp, but honesty of musicianship. This topic struck a chord with me as a musician who has been called honest in the past. I have been trying to decipher what that means and Will’s insight certainly helped shed light on the subject. According to Will (some folks call him Husky Morocco), musical honesty has to do with selflessness. Musicians (and undoubtedly other professionals) must balance between creating a beautiful work and showing one’s personal prowess. Those musicians who can surrender to former and not get caught up in the latter would be well on their way to an honest classification. An honest musician must put his/her all on the line to make the music the best and richest experience it can be, regardless of the audience size. The moment he is overcome by his need to be recognized, his honesty is question.
This issue brings to mind a blog topic I was inspired to write on a long time ago. That muse has been ignored until now…
Genuine: Truly what something is said to be: authentic. (according to my computer's Webster dictionary. You’ll forgive me if I don’t properly cite it.)

I had professor who one said to be genuine is the biggest burden one can bear. Immediately, as anyone would do, I tested to see if indeed I was bearing the burden. It didn’t take long for me fail the genuineness test. I had to wrap my brain around what it means to be genuine. My concept was to be one’s true self regardless of surroundings, circumstances or personalities. Go back, read that again… I’ll wait. That is indeed an unbelievably huge burden. There are times I’m sure, in everyone’s life when glimpses of genuineness are prevalent. To be truly genuine, however, is a not only a full time gig, but a life long struggle and dedication. The aforementioned honesty is certainly a large part of it, but one can be honest and not be genuine.
One parallel that begs to be drawn is that of Christianity and what’s called a Christian’s walk. Once a Christian has accepted Jesus as his/her savior, he’s the compelled by the word of god to conduct himself in a Christian manner. This means to be caught up in god in ways that I’m still learning about despite my being a “soldier for Christ.” The thing about this walk is the list of criteria for a vote of a genuine is mighty long. Even the most devout of believers surely must suffer lapses in judgment, momentary setbacks, trials, etc that challenge their drive for genuineness.
This issue of genuine is certainly not limited to religious settings. Genuineness of character is something for which all humans have the ability to seek. I think there certainly are people that have achieved this status. They fall into three categories that I’ve developed at time of the writing. The first is the crazy people. These folks, while not welcomed openly by most of society, can’t help but be who they are with very little concern for what anyone thinks. This disdain for the fellow man’s view of oneself is very important when trying to achieve genuine status. The next category includes those that work very hard to be genuine. In this category one might find folks like religious devotees, church mothers, monks, nuns, etc. There are certainly people that fit in this category that aren’t religious but rest assured they have dedicated a great deal of theirs lives to being a truly transparent entity. The last category is similar to the crazy folks, having no interest in another’s views of one’s self. These people say what they wish when the wish with reckless abandon. They are not bound by the confines of being nice, or being cordial. It’s about doing what they do with no care. They may piss people off, they may have very few friends or they maybe George Carlin. Either way there’s a freedom about it that’s very alluring.
Well perhaps I’ve rambled on enough and you have more today with your day than read my gibberish. Thanks for reading and good luck in your quest for genuine.

-Truth, genuinely back to the writing game

on vunerability...

Good People of the Internet, I have a question. What do you do when the person who eases your fears is petrified? I ask this because it is the situation I find myself in currently. Let me bring you up to speed.

This past Sunday morning, November 26, my father suffered from a ‘mild stroke’ as they say in the business. Personally, I’m from the school of thought that says no stroke is mild but then again my dad could be a lot worse off. He is okay and in good spirits. Nothing is physically disfigured. He has motion in all of his limbs. Here’s where the old Luther ends.

My dad is scared. He’s scared sh*tless. During my visit today, he broke down and wept openly. This thing has shaken him to the very core. Let’s talk about sobering… It is sobering to see my best friend, business, business partner, and no 1 fan (tied with mom) lying in a hospital bed with the strength of a 12 year old (if that). It is sobering to him struggle to read an item 2 feet in front of him. It’s heartbreaking to see a giant of a man brought to his knees in the blink of an eye. As I left the hospital today, I had tears in my eyes. When I got in the car, I started to cry like a little kid. I just want my daddy back. I just want him to have himself back…

After a stay in the hospital, he’ll be taken to a physical therapy clinic where he’s projected to spend about 2 weeks. We’re told that with work, he will regain 98% of his functionality. We hope and pray on that every second of every minute he’s down. But this therapy will take strength like no other. I struggle to find an individual with stronger character that my dad and he’ll need every ounce of it and then some. Here’s where you come in. Some of you may know my dad intimately; some may have never met him. Whatever your relationship, I ask that you pray for him. Pray that he has the physical strength to endure what lies ahead. Pray that he has the strength of character to persevere in the bleakest of hours. And when you need a break from praying for him, pray for my mom. She constantly assumes the role of the immovable rock; our current situation is no different. Pray that she has the strength to continue her course. Pray that she understands that it is okay let someone else be the rock for five minutes so she can rest her own weary soul.

That’s where we are right now. If his condition improves, dad could be headed to rehab by the end of the week.

To those of you that have already begun sending prayers up, those that have called with well wishes and words of encouragement, my family and I thank you. To those of you that have come by to check on him, thanks a lot. To the rest of you that are just learning about my father’s condition, thanks in advance for whatever support you provide. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m calling you, my village, to raise a man. A great man.

Thanks for Reading.
-Lucien Dowdell, son of Luther D. Dowdell

On Holiday Cheer...

Good People of the Internet, I’m writing to you post Thanksgiving 2006. It is my 22nd go at this holiday and I have to say I’m getting more and reclusive as I get older. Some of you might ask why. Out of the 22 Thanksgivings I've participated in, my family has played host for 21. As the years go by the guest list has increased dramatically. As a kid, when dinner was at my grandparents, the guest tally might reach 15 counting the 5 of us (before my little sister). By comparison, there might be 15 people sleeping at my parents’ house tonight, with another 15 or so coming for the grub. That's a lot of people. There is something to be said for a house coming alive with warmth and good vibes good spirited folk coming together.

This year I had the pleasure sharing turkey with my cousin and close friend. We'll call him Brian. He brought his girlfriend of a few years, Nicole. You can kinda tell they have that old school love. They modeled their actions after old school lovers. There's chivalry from him and that loving touch from her. I don't want to jinx them but I can see them lasting for a long while. Thanks for sharing that with me as it made my night.

While I’m giving thanks, there are a couple other things on the list. First of all is my family. The support I have received from them is nothing short of a miracle. Even in the most trying of times, they find a way to make things happen and for that I am eternally grateful.

Thanks to my friends for putting up with my silly ways and whims.
I look forward to more fun times and memories in the future.

Thanks to those that have loved and those that have allowed me to love. It's an important emotion and without you, I would have missed out.

Thanks to the most high for continually blessing me. Your grace and mercy are awesome and I have been witness to both.


Finally, thanks to you for reading.

-Truth, Strapping body armor in hopes of finding a few black Friday deals.