There always seems to be one person in a group, when faced with an unpleasant situation, who can — not to be cliché — turn his frown upside down.

I used to be that person. I say “used to” merely because it was much easier when I was younger to “keep my chin up.” People either hated me for being so cheery, or I eventually got to them, and they got over it, thanking me afterward for reminding them to laugh. Not that I am, by any means, past the prime of life, depressed, or constantly uttering “woe is me.” 

What I mean is lately, everyone I know takes things much more seriously than they did just five years ago. The times of negativity and stress seem to outnumber those with a positive spin.

I was relieved last week to be reminded of how any pout can be pooh-poohed by positivism by simply looking at a situation from a different angle.

The scene opens at a bandstand in South Glens Falls, on the edge of the Hudson River. The occasion: a Tuesday performance as part of the community’s summer concert series. The evening is perfect — low humidity, mid-70s, fluffy white clouds, slight breeze.

Enter the band: Everyone is amped up, no pun intended. The audience is loving it. There is singing, toe-tapping, pointing, and even and occasional “amen!” The group is preaching the blues, feeling the rock ’n’ roll. 

Neither the band nor the crowd could have asked the man upstairs for better weather for the evening’s performance.

“It never fails,” a common saying among pessimists, is what happened next. By IT, I mean the giant storm cloud which made its way over the horizon, instantly changing the bright skyline to that of blackest night. Luckily, we were on our last song. I kept right on singing the blues. People were starting to get antsy, watching the clouds, pointing at me. 

I was too into the song to notice the wind start whipping and the rain starting to pummel the stage. And then it happened, I opened my eyes. People were running for cover, the lightning was striking what seemed like yards away. I turned around to my drummer Neil and yelled “Do the short ending.”

Without missing a beat, he obliged. The song ended and near Armageddon ensued. The wind-driven sheets of rain soaked the stage and all the equipment on it — the subwoofers, the amps, the monitors, the microphones, the drums, the guitars, you get the idea. Thousands of dollars of equipment, the framework for the existence of our band, had been compromised by nature.

I felt really petty getting upset about my soggy tambourine. I am the only one on stage at this point who doesn’t own a piece of musical equipment with a wet electronic element in it.

The band is devastated. “Oh, it’s so much money,” Neil said. “Oh, we may  not be able to play Friday,” Neil again. “Oh, it’s so much money,” one more time for good measure. 

Out of the misery and the resounding “woe is me,” comes Carl’s positive spin. “Well, I need a new one anyway,” he said, referring to his amplifier. “At least we got to play for an hour and a half,” he continued, with a smile firmly planted on his face. 

That was all I needed to be reminded that it really isn’t as bad as it seems at first. Possessions are just possessions, jobs are just jobs, in-laws are just in-laws, and torrential downpours are just unpredictable and occasionally inconvenient  acts of God. 

The only thing that shouldn’t be compromised, in any situation, is the status of your mental health. I would rather be inconvenienced than institutionalized. I hope you, too, can see optimism from the wet side of an amp. 

In case you were wondering, the show goes on. We not only rocked the house the following Friday, we had fun, too!

    This is the beginning of a series of creepy faces. The repros aren’t very good. I have to get batteries for my better camera. Point is, the creepy people entry on my ‘Art Farts’ page has been such a hit, search-wise, I decided to do a series. There are nine in total, 4×4-inch canvases. I will put the entire thing online once I finish them. I am limiting myself to three colors per panel, and 10 minutes or less. FUN!

Life has been a zoo.

There is much to catch up on. 

I need a nap.

I went to help dad celebrate his 60th birthday at the beginning of the month. Jason and I threw him a surprise party. What a hoot. I have not stopped going since. One activity after another, and while trying to get back into a routine of some sort, fall is just as crazy as summer was. I apologize for the lack of posts. Jason shot this video while I was singing with dad’s band on the banks of the Allegheny River, while I was still in the Pittsburgh area. It is a little dark, but you get the gist. I’m the blurry one it the middle of the stage with the fluffy hairdo.

Listen up …

Congress Park flipper

Long time, no post. I didn’t flip out, don’t worry, just been busy. I am posting to inform everyone that I have been working on a new photo page to highlight one of my other hobbies. 

The page is still under construction, so please be patient. I intend to add to it over time. 

By the way, I came across this kid in Congress Park in Saratoga. He was with a group of friends and saw me carrying my camera. I was like “Don’t show off on my account!” I was afraid he would bust his head open and I would be left feeling really guilty. 

Anyhoo, he landed perfectly on his feet. He was obviously well-versed at back flipping off of a 12-foot (or so) balcony’s ledge.

Glad the camera caught him in the act.

Update: Just so you know, the city of Los Angeles is no longer accepting donations for Michael Jackson’s memorial service. I am assuming they have the millions of dollars they need by now, or had enough complaints that it was wrong for them to be soliciting money from the city’s residents in the first place.

Today is the day that I am going to start doodling again. I used to doodle more often. I kind of see it as therapy. Some people doodle when they are on the phone, or sitting in a meeting, or attending a class. 

I always doodle in my downtime. It seems to relax me. For a long time, I was too pooped to doodle. Now, to some, that may just seem super silly. If your brain is like mine, you will understand completely. Doodling is a release for an overactive mind, however exhaustion is a doodle blocker.

Yep, you can get doodler’s block, just like writer’s block. It is more of a complete lack of thought. 

The point is, today, I feel up to doodling, so I am going to get out my big fat marker and doodle away.

I leave you with this:

In the creative state a man is taken out of himself. He lets down as it were a bucket into his subconscious, and draws up something which is normally beyond his reach. He mixes this thing with his normal experiences and out of the mixture he makes a work of art. 

— E. M. Forster