Treble in Paradise
It’s June 21st.
First Quarter in Virgo.
Pulled the seven of pentacles.
When I was a kid my mom would throw an annual Father’s Day party.
The one thing everyone in my entire family would look forward to every single year.
She always had some different theme. Different games.
Sometimes we’d have it just in the backyard at our house.
Other times we’d all rendezvous at one of the state parks and have a whole pavilion to ourselves.
Always the start to the summer.
One year that stands out the most.. she really went all out.
She made a mixtape of all these classic 70’s soul songs and burned a bunch of CD’s that served as the invitation to the party.
A perfectly arranged mixtape mind you.
Not a single slump in it.
The mixtape served as the invitation.
We went to Sam’s Club every weekend leading up to Father’s Day and she bought a couple extra packs of chicken to put in the deep freezer. So much that I don’t remember eating anything but leftover grilled chicken in the time to come after the party.
Multiple trays of baked macaroni & cheese were made.
Salmon.
Big bowls of fruit salad.
An igloo full of lemon iced tea.
Not Arnold Palmer…. Lemon iced tea.
Chips & dips.
Shasta sodas.
Fried chicken.
Chocolate chip cookies…
I’m sure she made more… and that list doesn’t include the dishes brought by my aunts & uncles
Always felt like those days moved on half the speed of a normal day.
So much to do to prepare for the party in the morning.
Followed by time spent riding my bike up and down the dead end street we lived on waiting for the first of my cousins to arrive while my brother played basketball.
One by one family members would filter in…
First the driveway would fill..
I could still ride bikes, we always had an extra bike or two so my cousins would join me.
My brother and my uncles, his friends, playing basketball…
Then our street would begin to fill..
And we’d continue riding bikes and shooting hoops until inevitably somebody’s car would get hit with a loose ball and the alarm would go off.
At which point, we’d all evaporate into the party with no clue of who did what and or how that car alarm got set off…
Grab a soda and play it cool.
Everyone talks about the cookout but nobody ever takes the time to examine the acoustics of a cookout…
The bass is there but it’s not the bass that lines your memories…
It’s the highs.
Luther Vandross – Never Too Much coming on as you stand beside the grill waiting for a hot dog..
You recognize the intro and after so many years you know exactly which aunt is gonna raise her solo cup to the sky and start swaying..
Starting with the cup, the highs…
All the way to her toes, a steady rock as Luther serenades the function.
Even Outstanding by The Gap Band…
The bass is there but it’s not the bass that lines your memories…
It’s that mid – high bongo pattern that rolls in over the first few measures of the song before the bass line actually starts rolling.
That song seems to stop time for its duration…
Allows you to actualize the moment, sit outside of yourself and watch it from a different vantage point.
Same with Sir Duke.
And with the bass less imposing it seems the music highlights the moments more than it creates the moments…
Like…
Rather than it being a frequency that has to be felt, it’s one that’s just mutually understood.
One that’s collective.
One that’s elevating.
Every relative has a song…
One that comes along…
You hear the music as you help swap the trash bag out of the can…
You hear the music throughout the entire function but in the midst of tying that trash bag your uncle stops and brings your attention to it…
“Ahhhh you don’t know nothing about this right here.”
And now you’re listening…
You’re listening not just to the music but the frequency on which that person operates.
You watch as the monotony of changing a trash bag suddenly becomes a rhythmic spiritual experience.
Their body operates automatically as their soul reconnects and reawakens and in the length of a Michael Jackson b-side, they come back completely refreshed, renewed, restored, reinvigorated.
You really don’t know anything about this right here…
There’s not even words for them to describe to you this right here…
One day you’ll understand nephew but right now, I need you to take that trashbag out to the front.
I digress.
My mom put together this perfect little mixtape.
I remember her being so excited to plan this year’s Father’s Day party…
Midway through it, she was going to put on a talent show…
All the family members would have to participate in some capacity
There was spoken word, rapping, singing, dancing, no short of talent.
We rehearsed and choreographed an entire performance to For The Love of Money by The O’Jays.
She put a big afro wig on my little sister.
We had on bellbottoms and bandanas.
Proper period correct attire.
She used some green construction paper to make a bunch of “dollar bills” and at the climax of the song we ran through the audience and made it rain on everyone.
Apollo Theatre had been brought to our backyard.
And still it’s the horns. The highs on that track that fill the memories…
Wish I knew to transcribe the “deenaaa deeeen denuh deeen duuuun”
that actually works well, if you know you know
I thought of these Father’s Day parties all throughout the day as it is Father’s Day of course, but the day shared a similar spirit.
I woke up, ate my eggs and sourdough. Proceeded on to the Haskell House to join the Black History Bike Ride for the Juneteenth Bike Ride.
The morning started with an overcast, with mosquitos aiming to drain as many of us as they possibly could in short time.
Together we charged up hills, descending them with even more tenacity and navigated from Clarksville through the UT Campus across to Rosewood ending in the East Side at Boggy Creek Farms. Stopping all along the way to remind ourselves and inform others of our roots and the excellence we come from.
Not a single person in bad spirits.
The frequency of the highs carrying us as we moved together.
We end at Boggy Creek Farms, put our bikes to the side and enjoyed an expertly prepared meal as the RE-CLAIM drum group played alongside DJ Mel…
RE-CLAIM keeping the motion we’d experienced on our bikes all day going as DJ Mel tapped into those highs and brought us all consciously to the same frequency.
“You know there’s few cuisines where… you could just mix your whole plate up and have something even more incredible than where you started…
Like… this hibiscus barbecue sauce is great. This watermelon salad? Incredible.
Both together? With a little bit of this cornbread?
Pure magic.”
You glance around and see all these different people from different walks of life, different shades, shapes and styles.
Co-mingling and sharing perspectives, working together, making room at the table for one another…
Pure magic.
And as a father, I had the joy of sharing this magic with my children…
The joy of knowing that one day they will know something bout this right here…