Thursday, December 25, 2014

" Three Wiseman, Three Tenors, and Three Goofballs!"

Merry Christmas, from 'da Bayou!
This Mr. Bingle is about 25 or more years old. I thought my brother bought it for us, but my wife tells me we bought it at the Maison Blanche in Lakeside Shopping Center one time when we came home for Christmas. Mr. Bingle, was a promotional puppet for a local and large department store. In the late fifties and early sixties,"Bingle" had his own half an hour program for the kids between Thanksgiving and Christmas. He became a cult hero for my generation...

Who knows why?

This our second Christmas without our son, who passed away a year and a half ago. Last year, we didn't have the heart to decorate or even purchase a tree for the celebration. Instead, we left for two weeks to visit old friends in Southern California, where we lived for almost thirty years.

This year, we decided to stay at home and celebrate our son in a different way. And, one of those ways was to pull out all of his favorite stuffed dolls that only come out during the holidays and place them on top of the mantlepiece, the piano bench and end tables. As it is with any keepsake, every stuffed doll or animal presents a rush of great, yet not depressing moments, we three shared. Amazingly, showing the little white snow-coned promotional elf on Facebook, sparked an incredible response from friends and locals spread all over the United States inquiring about where they could actually purchase the little stuffed icon. Nostalgia's like that, I guess...

What's old is again, new... who knew!

Copyright 2014/ Ben Bensen III













Sunday, December 21, 2014

"Santa's now,"Shreddin' In His Sled!"

Santa really didn't need one...
Well, Santa went and bought himself a guitar amplifier. It's a solid state Fender combo amp. I figured Santa needed a new impetus to stay on his gluten free diet. He's trying to use the excuse that all this weight he's losing will force him to pay a pretty price in alteration fees. Santa finds so many excuses around this time of year. He also figured it would give him a better reason to play and keep his fingers limber from that dreaded party crasher, ARTHUR RITUS! He figured, also, that it would be lightweight and easy to move around. Santa ain't getting any younger. He plans to take full advantage of those video lessons that really wasn't available to him when he was young and stealing chords from Handel, and his Christmas music books.

Okay, I think he's just jealous of the easy way to learn how to play all those great Christmas riffs, now. The kids, nowadays, really got it easy, he says. They don't have to earn it, like in those dark, frigid, North Pole days of long ago. Walking in the snow for miles just like, Good King Wencelas, to learn the difference between an augmented fifth and a suspended fourth.

He really didn't need another amp. He has a perfectly good, classic, tubed, pre-CBS, 1965 Fender Bandmaster, but, Santa tells me, it is a stacked monster that just is immovable without a roadie's help. The reindeer just don't care or understand, and the elves just can't budge the beast. to and fro, like they used to.

Personally, I think Santa just wanted a new toy with all new bells and whistles to help him "shred in his sled," ya know?

That's really what I think... Merry Christmas, everyone!

Monday, December 8, 2014

"Okay, Okay, Carol, I Get Your Drift... Let's Get To It"...



Big Branch Marsh...
Well, it all didn't start out all that great a few mornings ago. I knocked over the coffee grounds that were set up for a new brew. I couldn't have just spilled it atop the kitchen counter. No, that would have made too much sense. Coffee grounds all over me, the counter top and the floor. Okay, it was no big deal. It's something can occur to anyone at anytime. The worse that could happen was that my first cup of CDM coffee would be delayed.

Later that morning, knowing I was gonna have to use my sunglasses, which kept sliding off my face, I grabbed two needle-nosed pliers and started to make the necessary adjustments when the left lense on my regular glasses fell out of the frame. Oh boy, this isn't looking good.

Of course, nothing looks good through one lens. So...

After pouring myself another cup of coffee, I went to my top dresser drawer where I have always stored that plastic case of six little screwdrivers for just such an occasion, but it wasn't there. Spending the next twenty minutes looking for that set of screwdrivers and then wasting another thirty  minutes finding another pair of reading glasses so I could fix my original glasses so I could finish adjusting my sunglasses before they fall off my head and end up in the lake, was gonna make me late for my appointment with the dermatologist.

I was a half an hour late, but the doctor managed to sneak me by the front desk and check me out. He seemed really happy with his efforts to do some minor surgery on a melanoma I had on my left forearm. He asked me if there was anything else he needed to check. I complained about a patch of seborrhea on my face and a swollen red patch on my left calve.

"Didn't we give Mr. Ben some topical medication for those concerns?" he asked the nurse. She nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, the doc asked, "Did you use those meds?"

"Uh... I didn't know that that was what it was for," I replied, feeling like a total idiot!

"It won't work, if you don't use it," he said with a rather sarcastic giggle.

Feeling like a complete idiot and not sure I wanted to inflict myself or anyone else with my discombobulated day, I called my friend Carol Hallock and attempted to cancel our afternoon painting date. The weather was foggy and cloudy most of the morning and Carol was hedging against  going at all. We had been planning this trip in a rather informal way back in early October, and it didn't seem like it was gonna happen at all. So, I called her.

"Hey Carol", I said,  I'm thinking about bowing out of this thing. My whole morning was a mess and it is still overcast here... What'dya think?"

"Well, I got the boat all packed and ready to go, so let's do it, she replied.

By the time I got to LaCombe, where Carol lives, the weather was nicer and really warm for a boat trip in December. For those who are unfamiliar with Carol's work here locally, most know that occasionally she takes her paints out to the bayou in a kayak to capture the moment from a different point of view.

Baby steps...

For now, we loaded my easel and paints in the boat and shoved off for the "high seas" and some vitamin D. About halfway to the point, where the river meets up with Lake Ponchartrain, Carol started having problems with the outboard motor. Naturally, the first thing I thought was my rotten morning luck was rubbing off on Carol. We drifted with a stalled engine for about five minutes until Carol figured out the problem and got that engine running smoothly again... Something about this switch she said as I breathed a big sigh of relief.

We landed on a small beach that separated the lake from the expansive marsh grass, and sat on our lounge chairs talking art, music, life and making a living as artists for about an hour while waiting for the clouds to clear out. Being the impatient kind, she pops up out of her chair, (and our conversation!) and declares that times a-wastin' and quips...

"A lot of people don't like cloudy days to paint, but I don't mind. I kinda like the moodiness!"

Reluctantly, I arise...
A head start...
"Okay, okay, Carol, I get your drift... Let's get to it."

I set up about forty yards south of Carol and when I returned to take a few photos to capture the sunlight that bounced in and out of the clouds, Carol had already set up her palette for the day and was painting. I took a few pics and she took one of me and then we went about our separate ways interpreting the light, the clouds, the water and the marsh grass.

From where I painted...
I must have changed the sky four or five times by the end of the day. We started our paintings around 1:30 and called it a day around 4:30. I must admit that after three hours I had very little accomplished to my satisfaction. Carol had two 8"x 10"s completed. We packed up the plantation, and headed back home, and as the sunset illuminated the entire sky and bayou, we lamented not being with our easels capturing the moment. We arrived at Carol's dock almost at dusk, unloaded the plantation, and decided to celebrate the end of the day Mexican style at a local LaCombe restaurant.

Before we did that, Carol pulled out her paints and, in the kitchen, she started adding, smearing, pushing and cajoling the oil paint around to her liking. I am always flattered when she asked for my opinion, as she often does when we work together. And, though we both took our paintings home, we each put in a bit more work, just refining what was already there. Of course, I'm sure I spent more time noodling my refinements over the past weekend than Carol did.

Chowing down our Mexican feast, smelling of oil paint, sea salt and suntan lotion, I hoisted my second margarita and toasted to our success saying...

"I'm glad we finally got to do this!" I've enjoyed every drop of these two margaritas and every moment painting with you!"


Copyright 2014/Ben Bensen III



Wednesday, November 12, 2014

"Painting Some Veteran's Day Conversations"...

The phantom Phantom...
Well, I've been driving by a static display of a Navy F4 Phantom that, about one year ago, just popped up along the southern side of Interstate 12 between Hammond, LA and Denham Springs, LA. Someone or some group, did an incredible job of restoring this Vietnam era aircraft and yesterday, to celebrate Veterans Day, I'm got my easel and paints and put it to canvas... En Plein AIR Style.

So, to speak...

And here's where I am at, so far. Lots of vets stopped by to talk and checkout my progress. Cars and trucks were tooting as they pass by. It was kinda cool!

It's a bit amazing how things have changed. Now, more people stop and say thank you for your service. I think a lot of it has to do with the communications now available. Many are understanding that the guys at the tip of the spear don't give the orders, but just follow them. The sixties and early seventies was such a strange time. 

Not ever being a veteran of any war, I'll never know the sacrifices.There are so many unbelievable stories these warriors can tell. Truly, amazing. All the precautions you have to check and sometimes endure just to be up in the air in the first place. Something as simple as choking on your own vomit if you cannot "jettison" your own oxygen mask. Forget about being shot at!

When I wasn't listening to all the stories, I was painting. Sometimes, in order to meet my own deadline, I did both. I certainly am learning what not to do when painting details in oil, En Plein Air style. I put in five hours in between visits by about a dozen vets. I think I'll have to put in another five hours or so, but the next few days 'da Bayou will be wet and cold. So, I won't be out on location painting this bird, but it will give me time to think about my next move to complete this piece.

To all veterans, who go above and beyond the call of duty... Happy Veteran's Day!

Copyright 2014/ Ben Bensen III

Friday, October 31, 2014

"Hey Mary Poppins, Where's Your Umbrella?"

Can always count on Mary to be "Spit, Spot!"
"LET'S GO FLY A KITE,
UP TO THE HIGHEST HEIGHTS.
LET'S GO FLY A KITE, AND WATCH IT SOARING!
UP TO THE ATMOSPHERE, 
UP WHERE THE AIR IS CLEAR'
OH, LET'S GO... FLY A KITE!"
Tee and I went to dinner last night and were, between bites, laughing quite heartily. Okay, we actually were laughing our asses off, at some of the second grader hijinks that occurred in her class yesterday. She asked me if I knew how to edit film on the computer. 
"Uh... yeh, I guess so. Why?"
"Cuz I bought some Disney animal adventure videos and everyone of them has animals either eating each other or fornicating... or both!"
She said," For Halloween, I showed this video about "Hootie Owls" and it opens up on a giant owl killing a rabbit!" As she continues, I'm practically in tears.
"Awwww," Mrs. Bensen, what happened to the little bunny?" 
"And before I could finish my explanation, the commentator started talking about procreation... And, and, and... I couldn't jump fast enough to hit the pause button!"
"Then, Therese says,"Then, Sarah, a pixie little ginger haired, girl blurts out, "Oh, Mrs. Bensen, I know all about that and how it works!"
"I usually screen these shows before I present them to the kids, but who would've thought a cute, Halloween Hootie Owl, vid would be... would be... be so full of SEX and VIOLENCE!"
After almost spitting out a bite of trout, laughing, I asked her, knowing that tomorrow was Friday and the class would be celebrating "Character Book Day," what reading or video were you gonna show to the kids?
"MARY POPPINS!" she yells out..."That's pretty safe, I'm sure!"
So, this morning, as the sun is coming over the trees and I prepare to do a bit more of my painting of the back paddock, I asked Therese as she's starting to drive out...
"Hey Mary, hope you didn't forget your umbrella!"
"Oh, she says, "That's a great idea!"


Copyright 2014/ Ben Bensen III

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

"Any Excuse To Have A Breakfast At Russell's...



Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby!
Well, I'm in New Orleans at Russell's Marina Grill... doing breakfast. I had to have an excuse to go, so I asked my wife what she wanted for her upcoming birthday. The conversation went something like this:

"What do you want to do for your birthday?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Well, I ain't gonna buy you no clothes, for sure... You've got enough of that stuff you don't never, ever wear," I said.

Noticing the obvious and copious use of double negatives, she said," No, don't get me anything to wear, OKAY?"

"Okay," I said... how about some flash drives?" You always seem to lose 'em!"

Not appreciating my sarcastic compliment, she said," I don't want you to spend any money on that school stuff... and don't get me any more socks either!"

"Okay, okay!" Just let me know if you think of something, okay?"

Five minutes or a few batters from the KC vs SF game, Therese voted to have our home carpets cleaned.

"I'm not paying for the carpets to be cleaned, FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!" 

"That's just crazy," I said.

"Well, we haven't had them cleaned since Brian left," she replied in a rather subdued way.

"No way, no way! Thinking twice, I said, "Has it really been that long?"

"Geez, I guess I better check the AC filters, huh? It's really been THAT long, I inquired... rather sheepishly.

"I got it, I got it," she blurted out. 

"The PHANTOM"... let's go see it again! It's at the Saenger coming soon, I think," she said.

"Cool," I said, "I'll get 'em at the box office tomorrow!

And, that's why...well, I'm in New Orleans at Russell's Marina Grill... doing breakfast.




Copyright 2014/Ben Bensen III

Thursday, September 25, 2014

"The Young Rascals, The Realtor and Good Lovin'..."

My acoustic guitar and my 1966 Fender Bandmaster.

I picked up the guitar last night before I went to sleep while my wife laid in bed with her computer, writing lesson plans. Without going into details, I stumbled through, a Merle Haggard song, "If We Make It Through December", The Beatles, "This Boy", and "Slow Down!"
It's not like riding a bike!
I remember spending practically half our holiday vacation with our SoCal friends, a few years back, working on that specific song. My friend bought his daughter a really nice, cherry red, Fender Strat, which eventually disinterested her. Personally, I think he bought it for himself, but that's another story for another time. I had that song down pat, including all the heart felt inflections Merle put into it.
Last night, I could barely remember the intro.
Why am I mentioning all this? Well, that morning I met a real estate agent to discuss the sale of a small corner lot in LaCombe, LA. It was time to get serious about the property which had been for sale for about seven months or so. We planned to meet at a local Starbucks. 
I was late. She was even later.
Over a venti dark roast, we exchanged profiles and niceties. We talked about the property and she gave me the big sell complete with her credentials. When I inquired for more details about her past, just to get a better feel for her expertise, she tells me all about her musician days; what she did, who she performed with, traveling the world with her Gibby L-3 acoustic guitar which her dad gave to her at the age of thirteen.
Well, that was all I needed to know to hire her. 
"Okay, okay, enough of this business stuff," I said. "Tell me more about the kind of music you once played and how you survived as a woman playing music, soloing from one gig to another in a time when only "folksies" allowed females to play like that!"
We spent the next hour, sipping coffee and telling tales of gigs gone by, musicianship, favorite guitars to play, and lots of backstage shenanigans. We talked about crazy stuff, like creating your own vibrato in songs like "Anyway, You Want It!" We both cracked up when she asked me if I ever sang some guitar parts instead of playing them. 
"Oh yeh,' I said with a little bit of embarrassment."Like the song byThe Young Rascals called,"Good Lovin", I said."It's impossible to play that instrumental part without a band behind you because it sounds so thin." 
"You use to play that song?"she asked. "I loved that group!"
So, here we are, two fifty or sixty plus year olds, just playing and laughing like ten year old kids. I loved every minute of it. I asked her if she still played gigs anymore, and she told me of a restaurant called, "Cosmos," where she and her husband currently play every third Wednesday night of the month. She and her husband are looking for a good, solid bass guitarist "that knows all the tunes."
We had a ball that morning and left vowing to keep in touch. We sealed the deal with a C#maj7... smooth!
That Friday evening, it was late, but Tee was still up correcting papers and writing lesson plans on her laptop. I was restless as could be. I was exhausted from the day, but not at all sleepy. I thought about checking the scores, or reading a book on the B-24 bomber. Then, I stared at my guitar and thought about my conversation with the realtor. My Guild, D-55, which I bought back in 1978, stared back at me like it always does, and has since 2001. The closest I come to playing it, is dusting it. It is an icon to a past I'd just soon forget. 
My 1966 Fender Bandmaster amp, big and beautiful, but not as powerful as it looks, stands proud and shiny, just begging me to flip on the red light. The last time I used it was for a disastrous Christmas gathering with my family way back in 2004. I stunk. My hands hurt. I couldn't remember some of the words or the chords to even the simplest Christmas tunes. I must have been wasted on eggnog! It was clear to me, I would never again be that bad in front of anybody.
Moving on from Merle, I jumped from one guitar ride to another kinda free associating one lick for another and timidly singing...  no, mumbling the words to "Brown Eyed Girl", "Honey Don't", "Born to Run,""Born On A Bayou," and "I Feel A Whole Lot Better," I played for about an hour, "skipping' and a jumping'" until my uncalloused fingers hurt.
My wife, who once sang and played a ukelele in a family girls group said, "You never do finish an entire song anymore, do you?"
It sent me back to a time when we were first married driving up and down Acadiana singing, "If I Fell." I sang it straight while she sang the counter part that Lennon sang in that song. She was always in tune.
"I know,"I said, putting my baby back on it's' stand."I really don't know what that is." 
I, then, turned off the light, rolled away from her computer's blue glow, and fell to sleep.

Copyright 2014/ Ben Bensen III