Op zaterdag 17 maart 2007 geeft Jerry Lee Lewis een eenmalig concert in het Indoor Sportcentrum Eindhoven. De Rock and roll-legende doet ons land aan in het kader van de promotie van het recent verschenen album Last Man Standing.

Be there. *

Aloha.

* The Boy and The Father will be there.

All of the buzz between here and Dad is the West Coast.

Here I show my roots, my utterly politically incorrect leanings, my legacy from life in New England.

California, I was once told, is like granola : filled with fruits, nuts and raisins.

I don’t recall having stamped my feet in protest when I heard that, although I did spend one summer in Santa Ynez. Big ranch, dontcha know, tennis courts, pool, roomie’s Dad ( who, by the way, wrote one of Tut’s favorite films and a book called Kane’s World. I have often wondered if that book is why the powers that were at Alma Mater put roomie and I together.) wandering around in an early version of a string bathing suit… ( gee whiz, where do I look ? At his feet ? Ah, I was much more younger then… and intimidated by the whole shebang to here and back again. I do believe that I spent most of the summer in my suite.)

And the Dakotas….

Christmas but a whisper away and I still covet goods.

Night tables ( stands ? ) for The Baby’s room:

Yes, it is that traditional time of the year here in the Netherlands : time to plan the summer vacation. This must be arranged within a few weeks of the new year.

Don’t ask me why, perhaps it is simply the custom of the country.

When I returned last summer, The Father said that he wanted to plan the 2007 road trip. Still a bit in a fog, I was like, well, sure, fine.

Now, it is coming down to the nitty gritty. Landing in NYC is a definite. Niagara Falls ( Canadian side), Uncle Richard’s ( Ohio) , Destin ( Florida)….

And today he mentions the Dakota’s. You know, like way out west, sparsely inhabited. North and/ or South.

Uh.

That’s about all I can say.

I’m busy on Step 1, hotel in NYC.

Dad is suggesting a Sheraton.

Makes me laugh so hard I could almost boot.

Hey, why not go whole hog and go for The Plaza ?

Having backed up everything a few moments ago, I can now say, yes, The Kitchen is back. Actually, once the heart and the moon appeared, I had completed the task but found myself very superstitious about making any announcement.

Wonder why, perhaps because someone keeps trying to find my password.

In one hour and 15 minutes, our Christmas to do begins. I spent the morning chopping, slicing, dicing and mixing ( much to my surprise, for I thought that I had most things already done, was well prepared for today, and tomorrow , when the whole family comes here for diner).

When my Kitchen was so rudely interrupted last summer, I had just returned from one of those boy things, a two week road trip with my father, The Boy and The Baby. I had many tales to tell, I took many photos. I have had no chance to tell any of the tales, nor even look at the photos.

My Christmas wish is that I have time to do those things, right down to The Boy and I standing on the edge of the Ohio river, looking across to West Virginia and recalling the story of Roots.

And to look at my photos, for I found Westley’s grave. In a plot bought by Robert Kerlin’s son, Henry.

Good wishes to all this holiday season.

I am glad to be back.

Both The Father and The Boy voted in this year’s Radio 2 top 2000.

Before I showed them the list, I asked them what they voted for.

The Father couldn’t recall all of his, but his number 1 was Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb; Dylan’s Blowin’In The Wind and Like A Rolling Stone; and then in some order, The Beatles’ Let It be; Zepp’s Kashmir, Gabriel’s Biko and Young’s Damage Done.

The Boy’s list was (Elvis) An American Trilogy, The Beatle’s Hey Jude, Chuck Berry’s Roll Over Beethoven, Suspicious Minds ( Elvis), Dylan’s Like A Rolling Stone, Don’t Be Cruel ( Elvis), How Great Thou Art ( Elvis) Burning Love, (Elvis) One Night ( Elvis) and The Eagle’s Hotel California.

So, how did the boys do ?

position 2006 artist title year pos_1999 pos_2000 pos_2001 pos_2002 pos_2003 pos_2004 pos_2005 duration

3 Eagles Hotel California 1977 2 4 3 3 2 2 3 0:06:28
19 Pink Floyd Comfortably numb 1979 0 74 0 1356 358 53
22 Beatles Hey Jude 1968 11 6 9 15 18 18 14 0:07:01
58 Beatles Let it be 1970 27 37 40 47 23 41 55 0:03:48
97 Elvis Presley Suspicious minds 1969 112 140 281 130 86 107 84 0:04:22
138 Bob Dylan Like a rollin’ stone 1965 169 88 195 215 200 110
188 Bob Dylan Blowing in the wind 1963 94 147 179 195 211 194
587 Peter Gabriel Biko 1980 420 0 0 462 472 437 476 0:06:52
775 Elvis Presley Burning love 1972 0 0 0 0 835 825 563 0:02:48
778 Elvis Presley One night with you 1959 622 0 1264 1113 784 962 743 0:02:29
1315 Elvis Presley Don’t be cruel 1956 1001 0 1675 1648 849 1398 1065 0:02:01

Listen to the list live starting on December 26, here.

A few days ago, The Boy and The Father went to a small store which lies within the shadows of the Sint Jan Cathedral in the Big City. They went to buy Mommy Dearest’s Christmas present from the children.

In our family, the big Christmas to do is on Christmas Eve, and bound by so many traditions that any given medieval monk would just love, love, love us. Why, we even have to use the same sort of Christmas paper every year ( that holograph sort, which- I might add- was very difficult to find last year but seems to have come into fashion once more).

We don’t exchange gifts, no, gifts appear suddenly under the tree, no doubt supplied by the Blue Fairy, helpful elf that she is. One year, the Blue Fairy got a bit annoyed- perhaps it was that time of the month, who knows- but she only left Mommy Dearest one gift amid the pyramid of glittering packages : a bottle of Chanel No. 5.

After that year, the children decided that they would buy Mommy Dearest a Christmas gift from now on. But what-oh – what to buy her ? She had enough perfume to bathe a horse in and didn’t in particular like to receive gifts.

And then they came up with a solution : Mommy Dearest had inherited her family’s nativity set, most likely because it was one sorry set indeed. It looked like a rest home for retired and crippled nativity figurines, with legless sheep, headless Kings and the ox with one leg.

The first year, they bought her many sheep, and promptly broke half of their legs off. The second year, a shepherd, and then a King.

This year when we unpacked our Christmas decorations, we found that Joseph was missing. Who knows where he went, perhaps- even then- there was an early version of the National Enquirer in circulation and he found that he just couldn’t take it anymore. Who knows, perhaps he went off to Bora Bora, in search of my missing tits.

One never knows. Could happen. Christmas season and all.

And so, a few days ago, The Father and The Boy went to a small store which lies within the shadows of the Sint Jan Cathedral in the Big City, to buy a new Joseph for Mommy Dearest.

On that day, the store was being managed by two elderly gentlewomen. And apparently, the store keeps very precise records of past purchases, for they insisted, no, they were quite adamant, that we already had purchased a Joseph. They went through the list, naming the figures bought in the past ( which also included a Mary- not true- and an infant Jesus, which Mommy Dearest has said she does not want replaced). Apparently, it was quite the polite and discrete scene : we would like to have a Joseph. No, you have a Joseph. No, we don’t. Yes, you do.

But The Father, able to sell ice to an Eskimo, sand to a Saudi, finally convinced the two elderly women to allow him to purchase a new Joseph for Mommy Dearest.

Mommy Dearest is expecting to find a veritable hunk inside of that lovely blue box on her pile of gifts.

Tomorrow, The Father and I will be on the road, collecting the last bits and pieces needed for Christmas ( although I must say, when I told him that the speakers for the CD player- read : Blue Christmas and other holiday tunes- were not working, he did not jump out of his comfy chair and search for screwed up wiring). He shall also be driving me to Duizel ( where ? Thank the stars for navigation systems….) so that I can buy his Christmas present.

Chatting over the kitchen table today, he- of course- said that he didn’t need anything. I said that I wanted to get him a present and that I knew that it was something that he would really like to have.

And then I stretched my hands out before him : do you want to know what it is, or do you want a surprise ?

He chose for a surprise.

Wish me luck. I suppose that he shall have to sit in the car while I pick out his gift and I tend to dither and dwaddle when shopping.

What would he like ? A kruidenkastje, believe it or not. And they say that they have 10 of them, in Duizel, wherever that might be. I have my eye on this one:

although- basically- anything that isn’t green will work in our kitchen.

Not exactly something that one can slip into one’s pocket, is it ? Hope that they have wrapping paper of some sort….

As an aside, the place that I live in is technically a city. Housing around 1400 souls, being a city must be something like being baptized, something regal or sacramental. In any case, I – technically speaking- live in a city, not a village.

All the buzz yesterday and scattered throughout the newspaper today was the fact that someone in our city is suing the Post Code Lottery for ….what would one call it ? emotional suffering ? They were on TV and everything, suffering. Emotionally, because they live on the street that won ( millions, if you had bought a ticket or more), but didn’t have a ticket. The news went on to say how this has divided our fair city.

Uh ?

Say what ?

When The Father and I went to put in our order at the butcher’s for our Christmas meats yesterday( leaving me behind in the car, without having paid for the privilege of parking, The Father waved me off , saying that if a cop came, think of something to say, so we won’t get a ticket. Well trained in the art of lying, I decided that should a must- be- there- but- are- never – seen meter- person came by, I would lose all knowledge of the Dutch language and play the part of the dense American cousin from Milwaukee, here for a visit. And give a lot of airhead smiles, bubble and gush perhaps), he ended up chatting with the butcher, very chatty and very much a craftsman in his trade . Hey, said The Father, saw you on TV last night, about that court case. Eh, said the butcher, good publicity. And they gossiped a bit.

I am curious how it will all turn out. Some do feel that this lottery has an aura of blackmail surrounding it, most that it is simply sour grapes.

And that, folks, was yesterday’s news, from our city.

Today when I was clearing off the kitchen table, I noticed a pile of papers, belonging to The Boy. Included was a notice that he had an extra gym class today and about 6 unopened Christmas cards from classmates. While he still has a box or two of Simpsons Christmas cards ( which I bought on sale a.long.time.ago), he is not passing out cards to his classmates.

‘Nuff said.

However, he did ask me to buy something for his class- for- the- clumsy teacher ( by the way, I don’t think The Boy needs to be in the class any longer, although he did mention to me the other day that when he was first learning how to write, he used his left hand a lot) – a special Christmas tree ornament from a rather pricey store ( Bijenkorf). He asked me specifically if I would please wrap it up like a real present.

Today, The Father took me to the Big City for the last of the shopping ( almost, I still need a ride to the.middle.of.nowhere to get the present that I want for The Father. Have you ever heard of Duizel ? Suppose that he shall just have to sit in the car….). And at the pricey store, I asked them to gift wrap two Christmas tree ornaments, a gift that my son wanted to give to his favorite teacher.

And they did a beautiful job, on such a small article, for a little boy. From such a fancy store.