It was not too long ago that I first ran across the term “dad rock,” but I recognized it as the unflattering term it was meant to be immediately.
And resented it deeply (sniff). Because they were talking ’bout me and my confréres in a low and dismissive way.
According to the users of the term, people like myself were locked into the rock music of 20 years ago or more. To make things worse, our dratted tunes keep being played over and over on the radio, in commercials, in movie soundtracks, etc.
Apparently this drives some music critics nuts, so they have retaliated by coming up with the term dad rock. I will admit that there is a trickle of truth in what they are saying. Studies have shown that we bond with the music we played in our adolescence and young adulthood in a way that never occurs again in life. The music we’re talking about today was rock and roll being born, in the most messy and uncontrolled way. Out of that mess came a mountain of forgettable (and forgotten) sound, but also one marvelous and memorable song after another.
So I feel for those men and women who can’t stand dad rock, because they are probably stuck with it as long as our generation still has a pulse.
And as far as most of the music I link to in this blog … well … pretty much unadulterated you know what, I guess. But there are two good things about it for you readers. Firstly, you don’t have to listen because it doesn’t start automatically, requiring action on the reader’s part.
Secondly, it’s free.
Fighting the Good Fight Department
Biden Should Not Debate Trump Unless … by Thomas Friedman
Dear Ragnar: Ragnar? Ragnar? RAGNAR?
Ragnar: Don’t bother me, boy, can’t you see I’m busy? I have to sign for something here.
Dear Ragnar: What’s in the boxes?
Dear Ragnar: Mead?
Ragnar: And do I need it!
Dear Ragnar: Explain.
Ragnar: Why are you here?
Dear Ragnar: To ask you about our politics.
Ragnar: That’s why I have the need for mead.
Dear Ragnar: But you’re a spirit, right? Why should earthly matters trouble you?
Ragnar: Because I keep forgetting that I’m a spirit, so I pick up a newspaper, and by the time I remember I’m already nauseous from what I’ve read.
Dear Ragnar: I think I can relate to that.
Ragnar: You bet! Spirits have feelings, too. We’re only flesh and blood … wait … that’s not right …
Dear Ragnar: So can I ask you something?
Ragnar: Hit it, honey.
Dear Ragnar: If you were a registered voter come November, who would you vote for?
Ragnar: I’d go for Biden, myself.
Dear Ragnar: His age doesn’t put you off?
Ragnar: You’re asking a guy who is 400 years old?
Dear Ragnar: Sorry.
Ragnar: But let’s say age matters. So he’s got to get a younger person to run with him.
Dear Ragnar: Yes?
Ragnar: And he’s already said it will be a shield maiden.
Dear Ragnar: And?
Ragnar: Probably a good thing to have one of color.
Dear Ragnar: Okay, that’s been said
Ragnar: But … do you know any female candidates of color who are also Norsk?
Dear Ragnar: I don’t.
Ragnar: Me neither. Guess we’ll have to skip that category.
We are back from our sojourn in the Silesca Guard Station, up on the Uncompahgre Plateau. Overall we had a great time, and found that the old cabin was only mildly full of allergens for Robin and I.
There was an oddness when we arrived. A very pleasant lady came out the front door and said that she had made an error, and thought she was also booked in through the night of the 8th of July, the day we arrived. She had just that morning recognized the mistake she’d made, and was in the process of feverishly working with her daughter to pack everything up. There was one slight additional hiccup. Her husband and son had left to go fishing at Ridgway (an hour away) early that morning, before anyone realized the problem, and now there was no way to contact them. This was at 11:00 AM, and we were finally able to take occupancy at 6:00 PM, when the fishermen finally returned.
We didn’t waste all that time, however. During the waiting period, we decided to take a loop hike on something called the Buck Trail. It turned out to be a nine-mile loop, and by the end I was making tracks in the dust much like a lizard’s, feet on the side and tail dragging in the middle. But once the other family cleared out, it was all smooth sailing from then on.
The cabin was rustic, and is on the Register of Historic Places. The beds were comfortable – our sleeping bags atop their clean mattresses. The kitchen was well supplied and all appliances worked. There were two bathrooms, each with its own shower. Bathrooms and kitchen were in the basement, sleeping spaces and living room on the ground level.
Our view out the front windows was 0f a delightful meadow. Each visitor to the Silesca Cabin was expected to do the clean-up after themselves. There would be no one coming out from Montrose to help with that. As a result, it was all reasonably clean, although Robin did notice the need for a deep clean sometime in the near future.
Overall it was an interesting couple of days, and we developed more of an appreciation for the 2290 square miles of the Uncompahgre Plateau. A huge area for us to explore on future trips. Endless places to practice dispersed camping.
Some photos from the Uncompahgre Plateau and the cabin.