Hey pallies, likes a few ago I felt so so Dino-led to do a google search usin' the terms Dean Martin Zen and low and behold I came 'cross this very intriguin' Dino-mention from Canada, Vankleek Hill, Ontario to be exact. From that area's online news pad, "The Review" comes words from columnist Miss Louise Sproule 'bout hearin' the sounds of our Dino in her usually tranquil neighborhood.
Truth, be told, at the beginnin' of this prose, for what woulda seem some inane reason Sproule finds it unacceptable that some dude, in the process of changin' his auto's oil, chose to enjoys some Dino-tunes in the open air. While she doesn't want to offend all us Dino-devotees 'cause she sez, "(nothing personal against you Dino fans)," it is clear this lady just doesn't get the transformin' power of Dino! But, at least she is honest 'bout her feelin's.
But, upon the conclusion of the "Dean Martin outdoor concert," Miss Sproule concludes her thoughts with the much more kinder and gentler Dino-thoughts..."Everybody loves somebody sometime. Sing it, Dino!"
So, why share this column with a bunch of Dino-devotees? First to say YEA! to the oil-changin' dude who had the courage to share his Dino-pride boldly with all the pallies in his neighborhood. Second, to likes acknowledge that every so often we may rub up against someone who likes does not share our Dino-affection...and consider how we finds ways to respectful of 'em, even if we consider them to be way off base.
And, thirdly, to truly trust in the transformin' power of our Dino...to let Dino do the work of changin' the hearts and minds of those who at first don't "get Martin."
After all even Miss Louise Sproule chose to end her thoughts find a Dino-quotation and the cheer, "Sing it, Dino!"
Thanks to our beloved Dino for steerin' me in the direction of this prose, and to the dude who has such such great taste as to play him some Dino while doin' some work, and to Miss Sproule for her honest reflections. To view this in it's original format, just clicks on the tag of this Dino-gram. Dino-loved, DMP
Please release me vs. let it be
Dateline: April 27, 2011
Having packed up and vacated our cottage to temporary renters, I stood at the edge of the hill and looked out towards the lake breathing in the silence. We wouldn’t be back until some time in July. But I consoled myself with thoughts of my quiet Vankleek Hill home on a quiet street and my quiet back yard.
At times, we have even endured the dazed smiles of people as we explain that yes, we have a country escape from the hustle and bustle of Vankleek Hill. “But it is so quiet here already,” everyone says.
Most of the time, I have to agree.
But last Sunday, as the strains of Dean Martin overtook all of the homes in my neighbourhood and made being in my own back yard a misery (nothing personal against you Dino fans), I wondered at the oil-changing inspiration provided by Dean Martin as I viewed someone at work on a truck with the hood up. The music sure wasn’t inspiring me.
How bad was it? I actually welcomed the sound of the chain saw as another neighbour set to work to cut what appeared to be junk into smaller pieces.
It was then I considered the expediency of travelling to my own inward zen world where I could block out Dean Martin and maybe even Englebert Humperdinck, should he be next on the playlist (no offence to Humperdinck fans). Unfortunately, the door to my inward zen world was locked that day. Instead, I wondered how quickly I could carry large speakers outdoors and play some operatic arias at volumes that would melt truck metal.
Not very zen-like, you say?
Yes, there, inside me, boiled mankind’s intolerance for others. I took a deep breath. Why can’t we all just get along, I wondered.
It’s bad enough when your neighbours invade your personal space. Even here at work, our musical differences can generate major mood disturbances that sweep through the building, depending on who is controlling the music or the volume or both.
Which is why being the boss does have an up-side.
“Who put THAT on?” I can ask imperiously at any time while switching over to some Eastern sitar music. I pretend not to notice the winces of those with musical tastes less sophisticated than mine. But I know that evil forces are at work when I leave the building, for I often return to find that someone has turned off my music.
Last Saturday’s “Ploughman’s Musical Interlude” was an eclectic mix of music that probably held appeal for most of the audience most of the time. But as we moved from a youthful rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing” made popular by the TV series called “Glee” to the old standard called, “The Wishing Well Ain’t Working” I realized again: we all have to get along, whether we are at home, at work, part of a volunteer group or when we have paid money to be entertained for a few hours.
It is the better part of wisdom to know when to push your point of view home as opposed to espousing a “live and let live” attitude.
Most of the time, we muddle through and even when we say the wrong thing or force an issue that we should have let go, we are usually forgiven if our heart was in the right place. Of course, after you have riled people up, it isn’t always the easiest task to get people to understand that in spite of what you said, you meant well.
In the end, we all do have to tread the line between speaking our minds, holding forth with our opinions and having the respect for the opinions and the rights of others.
I am grateful to live in a lesser-populated area, realizing how the crush of people in the city would likely not bring out the best in me.
Eventually, the Dean Martin outdoor concert came to an end and even the chainsaw ran out of fuel.
I even had a kind thought for the neighbours.
Everybody loves somebody sometime. Sing it, Dino!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011