When the Good Times Come Again

I'll see you then when the good times come again
When you and I have made it back
From the people and the places we have been
I'll see you then when the good times come again
The door that we go out of is the door that we come in
When the good times come again...

The week of Manilow memories is over and I was listening to the purple album on the way home on the plane today. It's filled with songs that echo my feelings of this past week. If you haven't listened to it recently, dig it out. The emotion on this album takes me back to the emotions I had this past week..a week of good times!

The fans
This is the first time I have experienced the "fan world" of such intensity. I had some not-so-great moments and some not-so-wonderful conversations with so-called fans. I say that because I can't for the life of me understand how a grown woman can say some of the things I heard and do some of things I saw them do. If anything it made me realize that Barry's security is greatly appreciated and highly needed. I also witnessed some quiet, soft-spoken fans who overshadowed the crazies and gave me hope that not all fandom needs a harsh case of reality.

The friends
This is probably the single most wonderful benefit of being a part of the Manilow world...the friends. I spent some quality time with friends that I have made because of Barry and his music. And an added benefit was that I had the privilege of meeting and getting to know a very special lady from the UK. Her genuinely kind spirit and her ability to communicate about the music and commensurate about why it moves us made this trip all the more meaningful. It's the friends (old and new) that remind us how much Barry has a profound impact on our lives.



The shows
Each show (Tuesday, Friday and Saturday) had their own special moments. The comedy was priceless. When he lets out that giggle you just can't help but laugh with him. The music as always moved beyond words. The emotion in each and every song carried me along. The bounce in his step (especially on Tuesday night) made me smile for him and happy to be there to see it. Each show has its own set of memories and moments that I will not soon forget.




The songs
Barry outdid himself this past week. He pulled out all the stops and gave us performances that had us on our feet at times and stunned in our seats at others. The cheers resounded in the theater during Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed and you could have heard a pin drop during Somewhere Down the Road. Keep Each Other Warm was a treat to finally hear live. And The Best of Me always makes me cry. But for me, hands down, Open Arms will be the song of the week. He knocked it clear out of the building, across the strip and out into space. He hit the biggest home run with that song and I can hardly wait to hear it again. It literally became his that night...forever.


The moments
In every show, there are those special moments that you can't forget. Those moments that make them yours, and yours alone. The lyric that connects. They look that makes you melt. The unscripted, unexpected mistakes that endear him to us and make him human. These shows were no exception. The jokes. The skipping out on stage. The unexpected insertion of Open Arms. These moments are embedded in our hearts forever and we replay them over and over again because they bring us great joy. There was one very special moment for me that I shared with my friend and I will never forget that moment when her dream finally became a reality and she had her once-in-a-lifetime encounter with the magic that only a few ever experience.

The memories
It's always about the memories. The fun we had with the music. The laughs watching human theater in the Hilton lobby. Sharing the shows together. Late nights spent talking. Early morning coffee. Meeting new friends. Stepping into the Manilow store again to discover the new merchandise. Walking into the doors of the Hilton. Exploring new places along the strip. Searching for that perfect outfit to wear to the shows. Drinking a little too much. Sleeping very little. Taking photos and capturing those moments forever. Philosophizing about the music and sharing what it means to get "it".

The MAN
I was speaking with a fan in the M store a few days ago. It wasn't a very pleasant conversation. She was trying to explain her obsession. I was trying to point out her sickness. (Yes, I'm opinionated if you haven't figured that out yet). I never was able to make her understand why I am there time after time. She just didn't get "it" and never will. However, for me, it's quite simple. He moves me. He reaches into my soul and seems to know exactly what I need at the moment: acceptance, love, kindness, compassion, hope, light-heartedness, joy. He does it simultaneously to everyone in that theater. But when it happens, it's like you are the only person receiving it. He's blessed with the ability to see the condition of the human soul and feel it with his whole being and somehow share it with all of us. There aren't many that can do that. And there aren't many that are willing to pour it all out there night after night and be that vulnerable. But he does it and always manages to connect...always.




Until the "good times" come again...
Texas Fan

Farewell Scooter

I wanted to post today and say goodbye to one of my fellow bloggers. She's been somewhat of a "mentor" to me when I first started blogging and has encouraged me to keep posting. Her own site, Scooter Talk has provided us with a plethora of information over the last few years. It had become a part of my morning routine. Going there took me to a time that I had missed. A time when I was raising my kids and life seemed to get in the way of following Barry and his musical career. But Scooter shared her memories and her momentos of the past with all of us and allowed us to actually be there as we read the articles, the reviews, the Q and A's from old Barrygrams and saw all the wonderful photos she took. It was a journey back in time and it was an act of love for her to share all of those memories with all of us.

Scooter you will be greatly missed. Please know that your act of kindness was not in vain and that we all appreciated the sacrifice you made to share your memories with us. You have touched all of our lives in ways that you cannot possibly imagine.

Rest assured...the memories will live on.
Texas Fan

A life filled with music

I have this vivid memory of my childhood that flows over me and envelopes my senses every time I hear Johnny Mathis or Nat King Cole. It is the type of memory that evokes the best of feelings and makes you smile. It makes me smile because when I hear one of those songs, I remember my mother in the small kitchen of our first home playing those records and singing along with them. She would sing and glide around the kitchen dancing with me. She is wearing a dress, as all proper 50’s housewives did, with her newly bleached blonde hair and bright red lipstick. She was beautiful at that moment. I remember thinking she looked like a movie star and she did.

Our home was always filled with music. My mother liked the easy listening genre and my father was a fan of New Orleans jazz: Al Hirt, Pete Fountain and the likes. One evening, my father brought home the latest Nat King Cole release. My mother was beside herself. She ripped it open and cranked up the stereo. That evening, we ate dinner to the soothing sounds of “Unforgettable”.

This love for music in my parents translated into my love for musicals. I remember standing in long lines at the movie theatre to see “The Music Man”, “Mary Poppins”, “Sound of Music” and “Funny Girl”. I would lose myself in the music of these movies and couldn’t wait to purchase the soundtracks so I could memorize the songs. I would stage productions of the films in our garage for the neighborhood kids and belt out songs just like Julie Andrews and Barbra Striesand. The critics would not have been impressed with my voice, but I didn’t care. I loved singing those songs and I loved the music.

When I had my own children, I began introducing music to them immediately. It lulled them to sleep at night and awoke them in the morning. When we were given a VCR for Christmas, I rented all the classic musicals. My daughter danced around the living room with Julie Andrews and belted out songs from “Funny Girl” with Barbra Streisand. She had all those songs memorized before she ever entered school and owns them on DVD. Every road trip we ever take together includes the songs from these classic musicals, along with some of the greatest memories from both our childhoods. I even introduced her to Nat King Cole and she has vowed to have his songs played at her wedding.

When my daughter was in high school, I accompanied her to a concert. I admit that my intent was to protect her from the “mosh pit” and make sure she did not get hurt. (I know I was overprotective: and proud of it!). In the process, however, I experienced one of the true poets of her generation and this decade: Rob Thomas. The lyrics to his songs were filled with emotion, passion and reality. Not only did I develop a love for Matchbox 20 and Rob Thomas, but I also bonded with my daughter over music: something that can be rare in the teenage years.

My daughter is a music aficionado, as is my son. They have varied taste in all different genres: Christian contemporary, country, jazz, rap, pop, foreign and classical. They have introduced me to some music that I would not normally listen to and have grown to enjoy. Music is very much a part of their lives.

The experts say that music spurs creativity. The experts also say that music can “soothe the savage beast”. The experts say that music can change your mood, even spur you to violence. I’m sure that some of these statements are at least partially true. But for me, every song I listen to is attached to a memory. That’s what makes me love it so much. When I hear Johnny Mathis sing “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”, I remember lying under the tree guessing my Christmas presents with my brother. When I hear Nat King Cole sing “Unforgettable”, I remember that smile on my mother’s face when my father gave her that album because he knew she would love it. When I hear a great jazz piece I think of my Dad and those trips he took to Bourbon Street to hear Al Hirt play. When I hear “Seventy Six Trombones”, I remember singing in my garage to an unimpressed audience. When I hear “Ina Godda DaVida” I remember my brother in the room next to me playing that music so incredibly loud while I listened to Barbra Streisand. When I hear “Grease”, I remember being pregnant with my first child. When I hear a Julie Andrews’ songs from Mary Poppins or The Sound of Music I remember my daughter dancing around our living room. When I hear “Push” by Rob Thomas I remember standing at the concert in the San Antonio heat watching my daughter have one of the greatest times of her life. When I hear Barry’s “I Am Your Child” or “Even Now” I remember all the wonderful times I’ve had going to his concerts with a friend I made at my very first Music and Passion show in Las Vegas.

Hopefully, music does the same for you. It evokes great memories. Because I don’t care what the experts say. I know that a life without music, would be a life without joy. How do I know that? The smile on my mother’s face when a song filled our home one night during dinner.

It's really ALL about the music!

Texas Fan