On my last day of playing Mr. Mom my kids and I paid a visit to Big Idea headquarters. Big Idea recently relocated from Chicago to Franklin, Tn and is the maker of all things Veggie Tales. A friend of mine works there and invited me to bring the kids by if I ever ran out of fun things to do with them. It took me only three days to call him. Thankfully his schedule had a hole in it.
He met us at the door to the big Idea offices along with Kurt Heinecke, the main music guy at Big Idea. Veggie Tales music is the only kid music I can actually enjoy. Most of that is because the lyrics are very well crafted - not at all about “adult” things, but very well done, extremely smart and irreverent. They remind me of old Warner Brothers cartoons in that there are two layers happening at once. A kid layer of bold color and big eyed talking vegetables and another layer of sarcastic grown-up pleasing humor (poking fun at suburbanites in SUVs they don’t really need, for instance). And the chord progressions are complex and clever enough to make a music nerd like me appreciative. Kurt Heinecke has everything to do with all of that. I’m a big fan.
After seeing the offices, playing with toys in development and coveting the Big Idea conference room with its massive screen and killer sound system, we went to Kurt’s office. He let us see a rough of a new Veggie Tales flick in the making, with just enough animated for him to compose and record to. It was impressive to see his studio and the process of film scoring midstream.
But four year-olds and two year-olds aren’t into composing. They’re into farting.
Fortunately for them, their father and his composer friend are too. Kurt let the kids play with his fart noise making toys, melodicas, “thunder pipes”, cymbals and other toys for kids of all ages (he’s got more of them than he has actual studio gear I think).
Then it was off to meet Mike Nawrocki, one of the founders of Big Idea, the voice of Larry the Cucumber and another co-writer of Veggie Tales’ songs. He was extremely gracious, taking time out of his busy day to hang out with us for a few minutes. He even broke into the Larry voice for next extra charge, which freaked my kids out. They weren’t sure how Larry’s voice was coming from this strange man. So I just told them Mr.Mike got hungry and ate Larry. They seemed OK with that. I think.
Thanks Steve, Mike, Kurt and everyone else at Big idea for putting a smile on my kids’ faces and making stuff for little people that parents don’t hate.
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-Shaun
I paint. Well, not much anymore, but I began life as a visual artist and only migrated to melodies and poetry in an effort to woo women in high school. But I’ve always thought in pictures more than sounds. And my most content moments as a child were at the kitchen table, crayon or paintbrush in hand, glue under my nails, slivers of paper scattered around me, covered in the debris of the creative process. Created was my Ritalin. Still is. Before doctors and moms medicated the overly enthusiastic and manic my mother channelled my hyperactivity and intellect into pages and paint. And it’s still my drug of choice.
Today my work is songs and my hobby is painting pieces like this one. I made this last week when I needed a break from industry and wanted to fill a bare wall in my bedroom. Making it was the highlight of my week. The most peaceful and happy I’ve felt in a long time. My life is good right now, great even, but putting this image on canvas took me from content to downright euphoric.
I guess the thing I love so much about painting these days is how untainted the whole process is by the outside world, by the critic and the audience. It’s free. There’s nothing riding on how well my images are liked. There’s no mandate to be an upbeat, positive and safe for the whole family painter. There’s no testing done on my brushstrokes, no corporate voice changing my palette with the market, no chart to make, no tickets to sell, no trips to take and awards to aspire to.
When I smear color on canvas I’m a kid again, mesmerized and enthralled by being able to make something I like. And there’s not even the slightest desire to stand back to back to anyone else. There’s no assessment of value. No labeling it “art” or “good.”
Instead I just make. Make what I like. And while people sometimes comment on the honesty of my shows or songs I have to admit that my paintings, because they’re unscrutinized and unsold, are the most honest works I make these days. The rest is half honesty and half marketable commodity. Half joy and half necessary labor.
If only we artists could make a living making stuff for mom’s refrigerator and not the masses. If only I could write songs as unashamedly, freely and flippantly as I decorate a page. Maybe someday.
(Picture credits: 1:"People Watching Daddy Sing” by Gabriella Groves, 2:Untitled by Me, 3:"Mommy Loves Daddy” by Gabriella Groves)
Mandy Patinkin (aka Inigo Montoya of “The Princess Bride") thanked the woman profusely for saving his life as my wife and her sisters looked on from their nearby table yesterday. Apparently Mr.Patinkin had choked on his lunch at Louie’s in Manhattan and was snatched from the hands of Death by a five-fingered stranger familiar with Dr.Heimlich’s maneuver.
At first the compassionate good Samaritan struggled to dislodge the lunch special from Mr.Patinkin’s golden throat. Yet the stranger stayed calm, even smiling at times, causing Mr.Patinkin to ask, “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I know something you don’t know,” replied the hero,"I am not left handed.”
Switching to his right, the stranger effortlessly forced up Mandy’s meal to the applause of strangers throughout the eatery. Louie, the stranger and Mr.Patinkin were not available for comment.
Mr.Patinkin has given the world a handful of shlocky (not shloggy) CDs over the years but made up for it by first speaking the quotable one-liners “You keep using this word. I don’t think it means what you think it means” and “You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Mr.Patinkin, we’re glad you’re alive. Shalom.
O my soul, bless GOD!
GOD, my God, how great you are!
beautifully, gloriously robed,
Dressed up in sunshine,
and all heaven stretched out for your tent.
You built your palace on the ocean deeps,
made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind--wings.
You commandeered winds as messengers,
appointed fire and flame as ambassadors.
You set earth on a firm foundation
so that nothing can shake it, ever.
You blanketed earth with ocean,
covered the mountains with deep waters;
Then you roared and the water ran away--
your thunder crash put it to flight.
Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out
in the places you assigned them.
You set boundaries between earth and sea;
never again will earth be flooded.
You started the springs and rivers,
sent them flowing among the hills.
All the wild animals now drink their fill,
wild donkeys quench their thirst.
Along the riverbanks the birds build nests,
ravens make their voices heard.
You water the mountains from your heavenly cisterns;
earth is supplied with plenty of water.
You make grass grow for the livestock,
hay for the animals that plow the ground.
Oh yes, God brings grain from the land,
wine to make people happy,
Their faces glowing with health,
a people well-fed and hearty.
GOD’s trees are well-watered--
the Lebanon cedars he planted.
Birds build their nests in those trees;
look--the stork at home in the treetop.
Mountain goats climb about the cliffs;
badgers burrow among the rocks.
The moon keeps track of the seasons,
the sun is in charge of each day.
When it’s dark and night takes over,
all the forest creatures come out.
The young lions roar for their prey,
clamoring to God for their supper.
When the sun comes up, they vanish,
lazily stretched out in their dens.
Meanwhile, men and women go out to work,
busy at their jobs until evening.
What a wildly wonderful world, GOD!
You made it all, with Wisdom at your side,
made earth overflow with your wonderful creations.
Oh, look--the deep, wide sea,
brimming with fish past counting,
sardines and sharks and salmon.
Ships plow those waters,
and Leviathan, your pet dragon, romps in them.
All the creatures look expectantly to you
to give them their meals on time.
You come, and they gather around;
you open your hand and they eat from it.
If you turned your back,
they’d die in a minute--
Take back your Spirit and they die,
revert to original mud;
Send out your Spirit and they spring to life--
the whole countryside in bloom and blossom.
The glory of GOD-let it last forever!
Let GOD enjoy his creation!
He takes one look at earth and triggers an earthquake,
points a finger at the mountains, and volcanoes erupt.
Oh, let me sing to GOD all my life long,
sing hymns to my God as long as I live!
Oh, let my song please him;
I’m so pleased to be singing to GOD.
But clear the ground of sinners--
no more godless men and women!
O my soul, bless GOD!
(From THE MESSAGE translation)
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