I love the Kinks.

A little while back, I posted a Happy Birthday note on Ray Davies’ Facebook page, along with a couple lines from “Better Days”, one of my favorite Kinks’ songs.  For those who don’t know, Ray is the lead singer for the Kinks.  I was really excited when I went to Facebook the other day and found this:

I work in Social Media enough to know that there’s a good chance that someone besides Ray runs his Facebook page.  Even so, it still really made my day.  What I found troubling was the number of messages I received from people, many of whom should know better, who wanted to know who Ray Davies was.  It seems like a crime to me that anyone can tell you who won the last season of “American Idol” or “Dancing With The Stars”, but couldn’t tell you who the Kinks were, or name one of their songs.

I freely admit that I am a music snob.  And just because I know a singer or band, and like their music, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you should, too.  But you should at least know who they are.

Of course, there are lots of singers and bands I love, which should be a surprise to no one who has been following me on social media, tuned into my Christmas station or listened to any of the releases from my record label.

I could probably talk for longer than you cared to listen about the Beatles and the Stones.  If someone asked me “What light in yonder window breaks…”, my answer would have been one or both of those groups.  No offense to Juliet.

And Elvis. Sure I love the hits, but I’ll always stop what I’m doing to hear “Follow That Dream”.

And the Moody Blues.  And Bruce Springsteen, Elton John, Billy Joel, the Eagles, the Cars, the Police, et cetera et cetera.

But I think the thing about the Kinks is that they seem to be fading away.  I rarely hear them on the radio any more.  Oldies stations don’t seem to play any of their 60’s or 70’s stuff, and when my local classic rock station plays “You Really Got Me”, it’s Van Halen’s version, not the Kinks.

I’m not sure how this happened.  I mean, I do understand that songs get lost or fade away all the time.  One hit wonders are a dime a dozen, and the path to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is littered with the corpses of Flashes in the Pan. 

But the Kinks?  They’ve had five top ten singles in the U.S., and five more that made it onto the top forty.  Only one of their twenty-five studio albums failed to make the album chart.

There have been over thirty official (and legal) compilations of their songs, and four live concert albums.

Just eight years ago, a 40th anniversary edition of their “You Really Got Me” single was released, and it sold enough to hit #42 on the singles chart, and a few years later, a 40th anniversary edition of “Waterloo Sunset” topped the Indie chart!

Doesn’t seem crazy that they’ve practically vanished from the airwaves?  It seems like, as far as radio is concerned, the Kinks never existed.

This is one of the things I would be concentrating on, if I won the lottery.  Not that I’d become a PR firm for the Kinks.  But I’d like to try and do something to, without being too cliché, save the music.

There are several very worthwhile charities that are music-related.  Sweet Relief helps musicians financially, and VH-1’s Save The Music helps keep music in our schools.  And the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame archives and educates about the history of Rock Music.

These are all great organizations, and I support them all, as I can.

But what about preserving the music?  And not just preserving it, but keeping it alive and accessible.  Like playing it on a station so others could enjoy it.

These days, I really have my hands full with my Christmas station (http://www.soundsofchristmas.com).  If money were no object, I’d have another station up in running before you finish reading this sentence.

As readers of this blog know, I made the decision that I would try to live my life as though I’d already won the lottery.  After the initial spending, most of it is attitude, anyway.

So how can I do that here?

Well, I can use the tools I have to try and keep the music alive, to share it with my friends and fans and followers (and those new friends and fans and followers that I haven’t met, yet).  That’s why I’ve interspersed so many Kinks’ videos here.  I hope you’ll click on at least one, listen to the music, enjoy it and maybe share it with someone else.

Finding that music that I love is disappearing hits me like a disease, and as they say, if you conceal your disease you can’t be cured.  So do me a favor.  Listen to the Kinks.  And cure me.

Ken

P.S. - Hi Marvin!  It's all in there (light in yonder window, Dancing with the Stars, and the proverb is "if you conceal your disease you can't be cured)!

Real life has kept me from updating this for the last couple of weeks, as we prepared for our son’s high school graduation (with honors, I proudly add).

Reno and I both had a tough time when I came into the picture and married his mom.  I think we both found it tricky, figuring out how we each fit into our new family.  At the time,  he was a little withdrawn, and sometimes acted like he might have felt as though it was his fault that his father went away.

But I got here almost seven years ago, and we’ve both come a long way since then.  At least, I’d like to think I’ve come a long way.  I know Reno has.

He made the honor roll every semester in high school, graduating with honors (did I mention that, yet?).  He also played water polo (Coach’s Award two years in a row) and was a gifted singer (and occasional soloist) in choir.  And in his spare time, he became an Eagle Scout.

At the graduation ceremony, they have a photographer at the back of the stage (which was set up on the football field).  Your name gets called, you pick up your diploma, shake the principal’s hand and walk to the rear of the stage, down some steps and back around to your seat.  Just before you walk down the steps, the photographer takes your picture (which parents and relatives buy in all manner of formats (including coffee mugs and keychains).

Some kids just smile.  Others pose or wave.  And then there are those who pause and reveal their superhero identities.

I could not be more proud!

This all happened on a Thursday, which is typically my busiest day of the week.  I have an enormous amount of work that has to be done every Thursday, and due to the time-sensitive nature of it, most cannot be done in advance.  When I’ve explained it to my kids, I’ve told them it was like I had two term papers that had to be finished before I went to bed on Thursday nights.  Typically, this tended to make me kind of a stressed-out jerk on Thursdays.

But I started to try to live like I’d already won the lottery (which has been kind of like the theme of this blog).  And while my job would go away if I did come into that kind of windfall, I would still work, even if it was just for myself.  There would still be things that had to be done, and there would still be deadlines.  I couldn’t let that take over in the future, otherwise what would be the point of having all that money if I couldn’t enjoy it.

So I wasn’t going to let it take over now, when I have plenty around that’s worth so much more than money.  I’m only sorry that I didn’t do this sooner.  I missed so much of the kids’ lives before I got here.  And focusing so much on work, has made me miss too much since I got here.

I’m very glad I didn’t let it keep from celebrating Reno’s huge achievement last week, and it won’t keep me from celebrating at his Eagle Scout ceremony this weekend.

I am so excited for you, as you pass these huge milestones, and get ready to start your next great adventure.  And the only thing that would be different if I really did in win the lottery, is that I would have bought you a car as a graduation present.  Which, of course, you would have left in our driveway while you headed off to college!

Congratulations, Reno!  I am so proud of you!  And I love you!

Ken

P.S. - Just got word, shortly after I posted this, that Reno has officially been accepted to his first choice of schools!  Proud and excited all over again!

For those new to this blog, I’ve been writing about living my life as if I’ve already won the lottery, going beyond that initial wave of rampant consumerism.  What would I do and how would I live after buying tons of toys, taking lots of trips and otherwise spending embarrassingly large amounts of money.

A lot of it is attitude, making the decision to appreciate, and even enjoy, what I already have.  That’s a trap that easy to fall into, only seeing what you don’t have and focusing on more, more, more. 

Attitude is great, of course, but that’s not always enough.  Sometimes, you really have to do something.

My parents and siblings all live on the East coast, while I’m out in Sunny San Diego.  Getting together is a bit of a chore.  Now, if I really did win the lottery, it would be easy.  First class flights whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted.  In fact, I could fly all of us somewhere, for no other reason than to get together.

My dad turned 80 in May, and the plan was to have a celebration at my sister’s house, just outside of Atlanta.  I hemmed and hawed about it.  Not that I didn’t want to see everyone, quite the contrary.  But times are tough, and plane tickets are expensive for those of us who haven’t technically won our millions just yet.

Ultimately, my wife convinced me that I had to go.  Her reasoning was that my father would only turn 80 once.  And in order to live with myself, I needed to go.  She’s pretty smart, and I have learned to listen to her.  Most of the time.  Despite what she may say in the comments below.

Anyway, I wanted to see my family.  And I also wanted to be able to live with myself.  So I went.

The trip itself was not the lottery-lifestyle thing that I did.  I was crammed in like a veal on a Delta redeye to Atlanta.  But there was one thing I actually did while I was on the trip that did make me feel rich.

I watched TV with my Dad.

Sure, other stuff happened over the long, Memorial Day weekend.  Their weather was good, a little warm but cooler at night (no full moon, I think that’s next week).  My sister, brother-in-law and parents all went to my nephew’s awards day at school, getting to see him honored for many things (because he’s so smart), and he’s an awesome athlete.  My niece is, too, but it wasn’t her awards day.

We also went to a Braves game and to the World Famous Varsity.  Not on the same day, of course.  We did try to pace ourselves.

And it seemed like we ate a lot, which is one of the major things my family does whenever we get together.  We don’t just eat.  We also talk about eating.  Sometimes while we’re eating.  And sometimes while we’re eating, we talk about where we’re going to eat next.

For example, they all know that I miss Bojangles.  So three of the four mornings I was there began at Bo’s.  My chicken biscuit and sweet tea quotas have been filled.  For now.

But the part that made me feel like a million bucks was the last night.

We were at my sister’s home.  Her husband brought in some pizzas for the fourteen of us.  We hung out and talked.  The kids played monopoly.

Then the Braves game came on.

While everyone else chatted about all kinds of things, and my cousin fought my niece and nephews for Boardwalk and Park Place, I sat on the couch, next to my Dad, and we watched the Braves lose to the Nationals.

That might sound silly to some of you.  You may be ready to say, “Waiter!  Check please!” and leave this blog.  Seriously, flying across the country just to watch a baseball game on TV?

When I was a kid, we got cable. There may have been as many as twelve channels at the time.  We had two different ABC’s, CBS’ and NBC’s (there was no FOX, yet), a couple local independents and HBO (which didn’t come on each day until around 5:30pm).

We also got channel 17 out of Atlanta.  The Super Station.  And with it came almost every Atlanta Braves game.  They were known as America’s team, because so many cable companies had that channel, and so many different communities got to watch those games.  It made lots of people feel like the Braves were their hometown team, regardless of how far away they lived from Atlanta.

I was (and still am) a Reds’ fan.  My brother has always been a Pirates’ fan.  And in those early days of cable, my Dad became a Braves’ fan.

We watched a lot of games together back then.  And the Braves really stunk.  So we watch them lose.  A lot.  Sometimes there was swearing.  Sometimes there were just mild annoyances.  And sometimes, it was funny.

As the years went by, and the cable grew to dozens of channels (“57 Channels And Nothing On”), the Braves improved.  My Dad and I still occasionally watched.  We’d make outrageous bets on individual plays. 

Bet you a million bucks this next guy hits a homerun.  Bet you a million he hits into a double play.  You’re on.  The batter would probably do neither.  Then we’d bet again, double or nothing, on the next batter. And so on.

I went off to college, and then to work.  Got married.  Moved away.  Got divorced.  Moved even farther away and got re-married. And eventually, my wife sent me to Atlanta for the weekend.

So I sat on the couch, watching the 2012 Braves lose (again).  And I sat right next to my Dad, who got annoyed, then swore, bet me a few million dollars and then turned off the game in disgust.

And no matter how much I win in the Mega Millions next week, I’ll never be able to buy something that wonderful.

Ken

P.S. - Hi Marvin!  It's all there - "In order to live with myself", "Waiter! Check please" and a full moon!