Bat Jack

Walking benignly among us ~ the common ones, is he who is Prince of Batness. Gifted, physically coordinated, articulate and dedicated to an emerging 6th sense reserved only for those who know the mysterious call of Greatness. Observing the refining process is our pleasure, and privilege.

Even the Dark Knight has an inner-child . . .And an itchy ear.

He has a love of picture books.

A fondness for hide-n-seek in the laundry room.Every Super Hero struggles with an inner-rage; it is what compels him to heights of daring and extreme limits of physical performance. A picture of stealth and cunning, the be-stockinged Dark Knightlet calculates his next heroic move.While the trials and foibles of the apprentice Super Hero are exhausting, rewards are very sweet indeed.

In fact, the Bat Jack easily elicits shock and astonishment from those who witness his amazing feats first hand.

Others, knowingly recognize a little of themselves bundled in new, smaller packaging. They envy the cape. Wisely, they speak their longing to no one.

Giggling like little girls, playing photo-booth is always a refreshing break from the pressure of extended family gatherings, even if the Batling is present and willing to perform.

Beautiful boys have beautiful mothers. They carefully follow the exploits of super-offspring. They worry. They encourage. They inspire with a soft, musical voice. They clean-up. They scold ever so gently only when Bat Powers are at their lowest ebb . . .

Bat Dads have strong arms always open to a little batling in need of comfort.

It is not weakness on the part of the young Knight, but a temporary release of energy his delightful metamorphosis requires.

The future of a hapless city anxiously awaits . . .

* The Inner-child Dark Knight, The Batling, Bat Jack
aka Jackson Gabriel Tanner age 27 mo.  Bat years = 6 weeks, 2 days

Derailed

Oh, I think I can

I surely think I will!

the handsome little Johnny train

cried out.

But he's just a man

stopped by the Rielle hill,

and a crippling case of self-respect drought.

It should now be O.K.

that he saved the day

by admitting it all to his wife

way back then.

What she can't explain,

is how totally insane

he was to be at that hotel

at 2 AM.

Rocker Dude

We felt pretty important to go downtown last night to the fancy Dodge Theatre, by-pass the regular ticket lines and walk up to the 'Will Call' window for our FREE tickets. David gave his name, and there was a little packet of 3 tickets waiting for us, just like that. 

Why, you may ask? Because the drummer for Flock of Seagulls is our close, personal friend. Actually, he's David's buddy and one time band-mate. I've only met him once. He is an exceptionally polite guy with a gentle spirit and a soft speaking voice. He smiles easily with a mouth that hosts brilliant white, perfect teeth. His language was clean in my presence, and he did not fit the stereotype of what I presumed a career touring Rock band guy would be like. (Very talented Mr. Michael Brahm is 2nd from the R)

It was the Phoenix stop of a nostalgia tour, featuring a line-up of 80's acts. The opener was Belinda Carlisle from The Go-Go's fame. Their spot was the guinea pig for the sound system, unfortunately. She had long blond hair extensions and wore a goofy hat. She sang badly about 4 or 5 songs that all sounded the same. It was not the voice I had remembered. Rachel and I were laughing so much we had to take a break. The show was even piped into the ladies' room eliminating any chance of escape.

Finally, after a $6 "jumbo" hot dog the size of a shrunken pickle sliver, and a delightfully stale batch of equally expensive nachos, the head-liner was on! We watched Michael gesture to the stage hands a lot as he inspected his drum set. Once he was satisfied with whatever the issue was - maybe the monitor - the show began. 

The sound was great, the little light show kind of annoying but the smoke machine really kicked butt - and of course the band was amazing. I had only seen Michael perform in a small club out in Scottsdale. It was exciting to see him in all his showmanship glory on the big stage, with the lights streaming dramatically through billowing clouds of towering smoke and his drum sticks flying like crazy! He was masterful. He threw them up high, catching them again without missing the beat and stood to point like, "DUDE!" at the lead guitar at the end of the song.  I thought the only thing missing from this picture was black leather pants. He was truly in his element. He was a classic, dynamo Rocker.