The Current event

Music has been a backdrop, a soundtrack, to most everything that goes on in my life since I was very young, perhaps 7 or 8 years old. When I pick out an album I haven't listened to in awhile, I can usually recall a time, a place, an emotion that goes with it. Just like a smell can trigger seemingly forgotten memories. Being a somewhat typical Scandinavian (well, like my grandfathers anyway), I sometimes have trouble getting in touch with my emotions, with my spiritual self. Music is often a tool I use to help me reach inside and find those emotions, and every once in awhile, an album or a song will come along that seems to speak directly to my soul. Like a conduit into who I really am. Sometimes I'm reminded that I do in fact have a soul.

Last September, serendipitously coinciding with my diagnosis, one of those albums found its way into my life. I was milling around The Electric Fetus (a record store in Minneapolis, having nothing to do with our unborn child of that time, but appropriate don't you think?), and found myself entranced by the music they had playing. I asked the woman at the register about it, and she told me it was "A Strangely Isolated Place", by someone named Ulrich Schnauss. I had never heard of him. But I had to have his CD. They had just received it that morning, and I took home the only copy they had. I've listened to that album nearly every day since. It's been profoundly therapeutic for me, and the album title very much describes where my head has been for the last several months. The music both takes me away from it all and helps me face it head on, to help connect all my thoughts and emotions in a meaningful way, and make me feel like things will be all right. It also helps me cry. I listen to it often while writing here, as I'm doing right now.

Most of you are saying to yourselves, "who in the gosh-darn-golly is Ulrich Schnauss?" I'll get to that in a moment. First, let me tell you about a tape I bought back in the late-80's, the soundtrack to a movie called "Legend" (one of Tom Cruise's lesser known flicks), created by a group called Tangerine Dream, pioneers in the electronic music movement. That album is proof-positive that a great soundtrack can make an otherwise mediocre film fantastic. At least to a raging-hormone-filled teenager like myself, looking for some way to make sense of everything. I like a wide variety of music styles, but this was my introduction to 'ambient electronic' music, which seems taylor-made to connect my brain to my heart. It started a cycle of buying soundtracks to a bunch of movies that moved me.

So back to the star of our show, Mr. Schnauss, a German-born 'up and coming' musician with an incredible aptitude for injecting the purest of emotion into his music. At least I would say so. And he's a really nice guy. I can say that from experience, since I had the good fortune of meeting him this past Saturday.

Enter the co-star of this post, the new Minnesota Public Radio station, 89.3 The Current. If you hadn't noticed, or aren't from the area, The Current hit the airwaves about 3 months ago, and has created a huge buzz in the radio business. Contrary to the overly programmed, tediously repetitive stations of the corporate world, The Current offers listeners a broad and deep playlist of newer music, with an emphasis on local artists, and the added bonus of no commercials (nothing kills the mood set by a good series of songs than the latest Taco Bell promo, am I right?). The only radio I've really bothered listening to for the last 10 years is MPR's News & Information station. Now we listen to The Current every day. Another of my favorite groups, the old-school rock band Rush, lamented the downfall of modern radio with their song 'The Spirit of Radio'. That spirit is back with The Current. It's like having a jukebox in your house. You never know what you'll hear next.

So what's all this got to do with my meeting Ulrich? Well, not long after The Current went on the air, I was driving home from work, lost in some sad thoughts, and I realized that they were playing one of his songs. I was astonished. None of my friends had heard of him, not even Jonathan, my techno music mentor. And here was my new favorite station playing him live! As if they knew exactly what I needed to change my mood. They play his music quite often now, and every time they do I feel a sense of personal connection to them, to the world. That's what great radio is all about.

A few weeks ago I started poking around The Current website, looking for more information, and was happy to find several forum posts talking about Ulrich Schnauss. I submitted my own rambling little blurb to the station, telling them how his music has been instrumental (very much intending the pun) in helping me deal with my illness, and how I felt compelled to thank them for making a personal connection with me. I figured that would be the end of it. But low and behold, the minute we walked in the door with our daughter from the hospital, the phone rang. It was a woman from The Current named Ali Lozoff, and she was about to make my wonderful day even better. She said they had been moved by my comments, and wondered if I'd be interested in coming down to the station the following week, since Mr. Schnauss just happened to be doing a studio appearance the afternoon before a show that evening. Wow. I was already stumbling for words with all the sleep deprivation going on, but I somehow managed to say "Yes, I've love to". Serendipity part two.

So the following Saturday came, I went to the studio in St. Paul, met a few of their DJs and saw how things operate, and watched Ulrich do an interview and play a few songs. Afterward I chatted with him for a bit, shook his hand, and thanked him for his wonderful music. I'm not usually the type to get star-struck, and I think even he would admit he's not very well known yet, but it was all just really cool. Simple as that. He even offered to put me on his guestlist for the show that night. All around, just a really nice person, as were all the folks I met at the station. You can hear a replay of his in-studio appearance via www.mpr.org.

Jonathan and I went down to the Triple Rock Social Club around 9 p.m. to see his show. It was amazing. There was a pretty sizeable crowd. I found myself just staring, entranced by the music, as if a spaceship had landed and we were all watching with our mouths hanging open, completely awed by what we were witnessing. You might think I'm being melodramatic and exaggerating. Perhaps a bit. But honestly, I had those exact thoughts during the show. It was breathtaking. After his set, I chatted a bit with Ulrich, thanking him again, most likely pushing my luck with his patience. Sure I'm a fan, but he doesn't know me from a hole in the wall. So his kindness was very much appreciated.

Outside the club after the show, I felt a sort of inner glow, like I'd just spent the last several hours exactly as I was supposed to spend it. I don't get that feeling very often. And man, I just can't help but think something is going on here people. My illness has to do with electric signals getting to my muscles. Our daughter. The Electric Fetus. Electronic music. The Current. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Regardless, it's been a wonderful experience. So thank you Ulrich. Thank you Ali. Thank you The Current. And thank you dear reader, for listening once again.

Do you believe in miracles?

I had no idea. I had no idea. For all the time I've spent imagining what it would be like to become a father, I realized last Sunday night that you simply can't know until it happens. Watching my little girl being born was a dream come true, easily the most memorable moment of my life. The concept of miracles has always been very abstract for me, hard to grasp, sort of like trying to believe in ghosts. It's much easier to believe if you actually witness one. Well, as of 10:13 p.m. on Sunday April 10, 2005, I am a believer. I am so overwhelmed and awed by our little girl. Her existence and my related feelings and emotions simply cannot be explained within my mind, with science, with biology. Certainly people in those fields would offer up rational reasons for my feelings. I'm supposed to bond with her to ensure my commitment to protecting her, to ensure her survival and so forth. But like most of what science has to offer, I usually find myself wanting more, suspecting something bigger and more universal than any of us is aware of. Not necessarily God, although I certainly hope that's the case. More on that subject in the future.

I am just totally and completely engulfed in love for my wife and daughter. It seems as though my reason for being has finally been revealed to me. Like all of my life to this point has been in preparation for fatherhood. That isn't taking anything away from life thus far, far from it. But I've always imagined that having a child is the ultimate way for me to participate in life. I want to be sensitive here, as I have friends who have been struggling to have children of their own. I can only wish them the best, and trust that when it does finally happen for them, their own feelings will be all the sweeter. I simply could not resist falling under the spell of my little girl. She has me completely wrapped around her finger. Literally, as her hands are so tiny in mine. She's just so incredibly cute. Of course all parents say that of their children. She could look like Rosanne Barr and I'd still convince you she was adorable. Sitting with her sleeping in my arms, at say 4 in the morning, is as close to pure joy as I've ever felt.

But while I revel in that joy, I've sometimes found myself wishing for another miracle. The miracle of sleep. Again, I had imagined and expected to feel some physical strain once she arrived. But I've experienced depths of fatigue I didn't know were possible. And with that comes the difficulty in thinking clearly, the inevitable crabbiness, and the tangible fear of not being able to handle it all. Ergo the hiatus in my writing here. I'm honestly not certain that any of this post is going to make sense. It's just sort of fumbling out of me. I suspect most parents who read this are quietly chuckling, knowing all too well what I'm talking about, and gently patting their mental badge of honor for having braved this same terrain. I've never run a marathon, and likely never will, but it seems a fitting metaphor. Only in this case there is no finish line.

And that of course brings me back to my illness. While I've been able to primarily focus on all the good stuff lately, the reality of my situation still raises its ugly head from time to time. While at the hospital, as I was rocking with my daughter and seemingly staring at her for hours, I was suddenly struck by an intense, guttural terror that I might not be around for her. I've had similar feelings before, but never so acute. It seems the old saying is true, the higher the highs, the lower the lows. Thankfully those feelings have come less often and I've been able to focus on spending time with my girls. If anything, my determination to fight this illness with every ounce of strength I have grows every time I look at her. Quite often I don't want to sleep. I want to experience every possible second with her, be there for her, keep her safe.

Life is indeed a miracle. My daughter has helped me recognize that fact in a very real way. Appropriate then that we named her Eva, derived from Eve, the penultimate name for life (did you notice the subtle hint in the title of my last post?). She represents everything that is good in the world to me. Her arrival has helped keep my hope for another miracle alive. The hope for a cure. But until that day, I will simply enjoy being her dad, holding her, watching her sleep, staring into her eyes, and telling her how much I love her.