On a weekly grocery shopping trip to Alpha Beta with my mom back in the late 60’s, I remember seeing my teacher there and being confused, wondering why she wasn’t at school in my class room. She was my teacher, not a regular person! My little mind surmised that she lived in my school room and never came out except for lunch or recess. My concept of authority was being shaped since birth, and it goes something like this: leaders are important; they have a great responsibility to enforce the rules–therefore, they are purveyors of what is right and what is wrong; they are our models of decency and honor. What does that have to do with my teacher, Alpha Beta and my high standard of what a leader should be? It is a great disappointment when our leaders fail to live up to our expectations,  the ones they taught us to aspire to.

I have been reading a book, Hellhound On His Trail, about the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and the subsequent hunt for his killer. In it, Hampton Sides exposes the human failings of many leaders caught up in the surrounding drama, especially MLK. Not to sound naive, but I really was disappointed with the gaping character flaws that were evident in King. Of course he was imperfect. But he was a preacher, for goodness sake! He was married with kids at home–their pillar of strength. My notions of a perfect leader have been daily dashed, with disappointment littering the path, leading away from my moral training since birth. It all falls apart. Humans fail–miserably.

Even though I want to find a Jimmy Stewart, or a Frank Capra-like standard in my society to lead me, and to charge ahead into the uncertainty of the future, I am afraid that it doesn’t exist and never has. It is therefore up to me, a husband, father, Christian, citizen and leader to make wise choices. I may fail, but I have a standard–and it’s not just any man, it is Jesus Christ. Other than my Savior, there is no perfect person. Politics, religion, education and journalism are riddled with characters who have no other goal than to pad their own lifestyles with ill-gotten gain. My simple role is to just keep my head down, trusting that God is my agent, walking in faith and in the light of His Word, making wise choices and taking the heat from the inevitable criticism that will follow. My family is counting on me.

Aramis cologne, black and white TV, Jobim’s Bossa Nova beat, starched white shirts with black skinny ties and Sinatra’s September of My Years. These are memories of my childhood. My dad would sing along with these songs while they were playing on the stereo in our living room. The wisdom of the lyrics in each masterfully composed and arranged song hit home with me now, especially since I am 50 years old–the same age Sinatra was when he recorded this record back in ’65. To think that I grew up less than an hour away from where these records were made blows my mind. It is usually after the fact that we realize what a golden moment really is. Thankfully, I can carry those moments as memories with me when I listen to this record.

I am grateful for music downloading technology as it allows me to easily find and collect re-mastered, re-released albums from my childhood. If there was ever an artist that made an impression on me it was Sinatra. My dad still is a fanatic. As I surfed Amazon Mp3 today, I rediscovered this jewel. I recommend it to any songwriter and singer out there as essential listening.

Whenever I hear this record, it takes me back to summer evenings in Fullerton as the open sliding glass door allowed cool breezes to blow in from the back yard–the sound of fireworks from Disneyland popping in the sky. Those were very good years.

Dr. Jim Fallon, 62 years old, is a neuroscientist who studies the biological basis of human behavior at the University of California, Irvine. I was able to catch him on the third installment of ABC’s four-part documentary called Secrets of Your Mind. Jim has studied the brains of more than 70 murderers on behalf of psychiatric clinics or criminal defense lawyers. Three years ago, as part of a personal project to assess his family’s risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease, Dr. Fallon collected brain scans and DNA samples from himself and seven relatives. He discovered on his own brain scan the tell-tale evidence that he himself had the potential to be a killer.

Studies show the frontal lobe of a “normal” brain is highly active and that of a serial killer or psychopath is somewhat inactive. It’s speculated that this part of the brain is where our conscience and feelings of remorse originate. Dr. Fallon’s previous research on murderers had suggested that many killers show distinctive patterns in these brain areas. He wasn’t aware that his father’s lineage was littered with murderers–famous ones like Thomas Cornell, hanged in 1673 for murdering his mother and Lizzie Borden of Fall River, Mass., who in 1892, was accused and then controversially acquitted of killing her father and stepmother with an ax.

If any one of us looks deep into our being, we will find lurking there a connection that ties humanity together like a dark thread: sin. Our sinful heritage, like a murky river, flows through each generation, leaving it’s evidence on every heart. There are some that deny it’s presence saying that humanity is basically good. The Bible says in Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” Again, in Matthew 15:19, “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.”

Dr. Fallon’s brain scan may show the potential to be a killer. But he concluded that, being a caring and non-violent person, his loving upbringing was able to thwart the effects in his own life. I still believe that we are all born with the same dark affliction that our father, Adam, left us. It is at the core of the redemption story. We can be changed, cleansed and rejuvenated to live as God originally intended. It is not through a change in behavior or a good upbringing, but is only through the redemptive power of Jesus Christ:

²²This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, ²³for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, ²⁴and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. ²⁵God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement,^[a] through faith in his blood. He did this to demonstrate his justice, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished— ²⁶he did it to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus.” Romans 3:22-25

The Fabulous Superlatives: it’s amusingly redundant and a great name for a band. Marty Stuart says he got it from a flower shop here in Nashville. But the band isn’t quite the over-exaggeration (;-D) that the name implies–they are probably the greatest assemblage of pickers and singers within any band hailing from the Music City. They just released a new record this past Tuesday called Ghost Train: The Studio B Sessions. I think it’s the best record to come out of country music in a long time.

Marty Stuart, much like Ricky Skaggs, Emmylou Harris and Vince Gill, keeps reinventing himself and offers fresh installments of his talent every couple of years. In this day and age of American Idol, with half-baked offerings of producer-driven projects, the industry is trying to duplicate past success so much that the music begins to sound inbred. Stuart has brought fine songwriting together with stellar musicianship and old-fashioned styling in the vein of Haggard, Buck Owens, and other storytellers like Johnny Cash and Jimmy Rogers. The production even incorporates the smooth RCA Victor, mid-60’s sound with his famous wife Connie Smith on the duet, I Run To You. There are some incredible dueling guitar solos on the record between Stuart and his virtuosic side-kick, “Cousin” Kenny Vaughan. The harmony supporting Marty’s lead vocal comes from bassist Paul Martin and Nashville veteran/drummer Harry Stinson.

After being branded by his “hillbilly rock” hits of the 90’s, Marty went back to his roots in 2002 and started over. He re-visited his grandfather’s farm that he helped clear of overgrowth a decade earlier. Recalling the epiphany, Stuart says, “The air could pass through the trees again, and everything came back to life. You could see my Grandpa’s signature on the land, the way he terraced his land. Then, when I was down there again last year (2002), something really incredible occurred. The same thing happened inside me. It had come time to clear out everything inside myself and plant a new crop.”

Stuart and his Fabulous Superlatives have a great show on the RFD-TV network which can be seen on Saturday nights at 8PM, Eastern time (new season to air soon). I think it’s a fantastic show with top-notch guests even with the lacking video production. I look forward to seeing the boys kicking it again in the fall.

Marty Stuart is a true gem. He is helping to keep the glorious sounds of traditional country alive. God bless him for it. And by the way, look for my new CD on Inbred records with my new group, The Dangling Participles. Just kidding!

I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard that Hitler’s violin from his art school days was found in a fiddle shop in North Carolina a few years ago. The story is fascinating. I have always been intrigued with historical artifacts. The item itself may be unimpressive but it’s provenance is obviously what creates the value.

When I was a kid my dad had a friend who was a buddy to Cliff Edwards, the voice for the character of Jiminy Cricket through the 1960s. On the wall of our family friend’s living room hung the ukulele once owned and played by Mr. Edwards. Every time we visited I went straight for Jiminy Cricket’s “little guitar.” I must admit, I felt important just beholding it–connecting me in some way to Jiminy, Disney, and Pinocchio.

When we acquire things of historical significance, and display them proudly, we are basking in the reflective glory of it’s past owner. There is something empowering about it. I watched a documentary this week about the auctioning of items from the entire Star Trek TV and movie franchise. People were bidding tens of thousands of dollars to snag a prop or a piece of clothing worn by an actor. In one case, the Ressikan flute, prized by Patrick Stewart’s character in The Next Generation, sold for over $40,000. Stewart later commented with laughter, “It doesn’t play; it’s not a real flute.”

I could poke fun at the ridiculous purchase. But I am holding tight to my glass guitar slide once owned by Duane Allman from the Allman Brothers Band. There’s something cool about holding an iconic item the guitar legend used at one time. I really don’t think it will make me play any better, though.