Monthly Archives: June 2026

A 90’s Music Re-Invention Reflection

A couple of nights ago, I was bored. I don’t have an issue with boredom…great creativity can occur in moments of boredom. What does tend to present interesting outcomes is the combination of boredom and the Internet, but such is our moment in history. In this particular moment of boredom, there surfaced a distinct memory of (and subsequent search for) a television series from the 90’s that I had nearly forgotten existed, Catwalk. While my memory of this series is fuzzy, and my searching didn’t yield any results on any streaming service, I recall that the acting and writing of that series was that special, 90’s kind of melodrama, but there was something about the music.

That memory brought back some other 90s shows, as well (that I have been able to locate on various platforms), and watching some of those series re-oriented me, in a strange way, to what life was like, not necessarily in the 90’s (I was sort of just drifting then, if I’m honest…trying to figure out life), but definitely to the Before Times. I’m attributing this otherwise inexplicable connection to the interpersonal dynamics and lack of pervasive technology. What I mostly miss when I think about this in particular is the fact that I wasn’t in front of a screen all day, that I was doing something that mattered, and having human contact occasionally.

Interestingly, the drama is not why I watched Catwalk originally. That series would have been my freshman year in college, which was a dramatically failed attempt at being a music major. As I said, there was something about the music in that series, a rock/hip-hop/pop fusion that stayed in my memory. I wish there existed a soundtrack somewhere, but I couldn’t find that, either. I remember distinctly a line that one of the characters said back then in one episode or another, something to the effect of how what they were doing with the band was just as valid as any symphony. I really resonated with that, because I was trying to do jazz and rock in a program that insisted on classical. The characters in that series were living a life that I dreamed of living (and was still naive enough to think could exist).

Like a lot of dreams, though, this stagnated when I reached proper adulthood.

A few years ago, my wife gave one of the coolest Christmas gifts ever. I’ve always talked about my days as a drummer and how, in another life, I would have just been in a band forever had my parents just bought me that kit I wanted so that I could take it seriously. That Christmas, she gave me an electronic drum kit that I could play without annoying the entire household. I look at it wistfully now every time I’m in the basement play room, but usually the closest that I get to playing is watching videos of various drummers from the 80’s.

Just like the characters in Catwalk, in real life, there are day jobs, and, for most of us, what we’re passionate about happens after. I’m trying (perhaps even getting better at…?) carving out that time after hours. Watching less and reading more helps that creative spark, but just being open to things is the most helpful, and, in that regard, my daughters inspire me.

I’m reaching a point where I want to…am about to, I think…re-invent myself again. I’m tempted to call it a mid-life crisis, but I don’t know if the first part of that phrase is the most accurate descriptor at the moment. I know that I want to take what’s good about my present vocation and leave the rest. Normally I’d go back to school at this point. Is that a possibility? Maybe, but doubtful. In whatever case, I’m drawing a line in the sand, because I want to see what’s next.

Memoirs of Power Tools

Last year, a new neighbor bought the house across the street.

The previous owner had a…colorful personality that led to some interesting stories to tell. So, we were wondering what the new owner would bring. They’ve done a lot of renovation to the house, which has been interesting to watch. This guy is always building, sawing, hammering, putting something together, or, alternatively, bringing in a lot of supplies and re-doing the landscaping of the property.

When I think of that kind of work, I think of a couple of things. First is my father…it’s perhaps apropos that I’m writing this on Father’s Day. He kept a workshop in a detached building and was always outside in the evenings after dinner. The saws could always be heard, and he was always building. My dad made his living in electronics, but he loved woodworking, and the shop was his man cave. He sculpted with wood, as much an artist as a craftsman.

The other thing that I think of is my college career, because I spent most of it as a theatre major. My focus was largely on the technical side of theatre, and as such I spent a good amount of time in the scene shop. Even though I grew up observing my father’s use of power tools, I didn’t really learn to use them until college. While I’m far from being a pro, I do know my way around a drill, a rip saw, and various other tools, but to use them today would surface just how incredibly out of practice I am, because I don’t use them every day.

Or every month.

Or most of the year.

In recent years, for various reasons, I think about my dad often. Part of this is harboring some guilt for not calling him nearly as often as I should. Part of it is that things like seeing this new neighbor working outside all the time reminds me of what my dad did when I was growing up, and I wish sometimes that l was less academic and more hands-on with life.

A few years ago, before we moved to our current house, I was driving home from…somewhere… and I passed a house with a work van parked in the driveway. I forget what sort of work it advertised on its side…electrician, perhaps? Roofing? Given that it was the weekend, the van was not in use, and I remembered my father coming home from work, being with his family, engaging his hobbies, living a simpler life. There wasn’t email then, but if there had been, he wouldn’t have been checking it, because he wouldn’t have had a smartphone in his pocket. He left in the morning, worked his day as a specialist in his field, and returned home to live life, much as I imagine the owner of that van did. Then, after a significant number of years, he retired, which he was able to do because he was rewarded for his longevity with a pension.

While I don’t really want to change who I am in this regard, I often think that life would be simpler if I worked in a field…or in a time…that brought with it a similar lifestyle. Leave for work, do your trade, come home to the family. Work outside on the weekends, watch the game in the evening. There’s an enviable simplicity to that rhythm. That simplicity pre-supposes a security that doesn’t exist in our world any longer (who among my generation can realistically ever expect to retire?). Even without this, though, I feel that there must be ways to re-introduce a simplicity into our lives. Some are obvious…refuse to let work have a foothold in our after-hours lives (I deleted work communications from my phone some time ago), pare back on social media’s poisonous influence. Some are less obvious, or at least they are to me as I haven’t figured them out as of yet.

My techno-optimism has died in its old age, and I’ve started looking for ways to bring back this sort of simplicity. I want work to have its appropriate place, to mean something, and for life to be free from tech billionaires making decisions for me.

As foreign as this sounds to a generation that has grown up in this landscape, I can’t feel that this is what it was meant to be. Our lives have fallen out of balance, and we need to get that back. I’m not sure how exactly that happens. I just know instinctively that it involves less complexity than our current state.