No Pants

Hey blog readers!

Happy August!

S’been awhile since my last post, eh??  I’d like to officially blame it on the fact that I’m burning candles from every end imaginable with the album in full swing, a happy little full time job, some songwriting here and there, and lots and lots of memoir writing.  To give you a sense of the sort of stories you might be in for with this upcoming record/memoir package, I thought I’d start posting some previews.  Here’s one that seems appropriate for the summer months…

In the meantime, I’ll head back to my candle-burning and talk to you soon!




For as long as I’ve known him, my dad has been a huge fan of the outdoor swimming pool.  My memories of him from the months of May through September were in swim trunks and a bright orange Hawaiian shirt.  I’m fairly certain we even chose our friends based on whether or not they had their own in-ground pool.   Vernell and Hubert, for example, owned a condo in New Jersey with their own community pool, which we visited on a regular basis.  Vernell was a harpist who occasionally helped my dad on his recording projects – which I suppose legitimized the relationship a bit; but since Hubert didn’t speak much more than some heavy German, they were pretty much useless.

Still, they let us use their pool.

One Saturday morning my dad announced that we were heading to the condo for the day and should pack our swimsuits.  I pretty much hate packing – always have.

And since I didn’t want to even carry a bag in the car, I decided to put my suit on under a t-shirt cover up and call it a day.  It was like beating the system – why pack a suit when you can wear it??  What hadn’t this occurred to me before??

I basically felt like a superhero.  Not wanting anyone to copy my fabulous secret, though, I packed a small duffel bag with a towel and some stuffed animals to add some weight.

After a full day of swimming my dad decided that we should head home.  It was then that I quickly realized the error of my ways.  While everyone else had clothes to change into, I suddenly had NO PANTS.

I dug around for solutions; but all I came up with were a couple of stuffed animals and a soggy towel.

“Don’t panic!” I thought, “Just pull your shirt down to look like a dress!”

I crept into the car as stealthily as I could – pulling my shirt to my knees and covering myself with my tiny duffel bag.

“Where should we go for dinner?” my dad asked once we were all in the car.

I wanted to volunteer a dark hole in the center of the universe; but Burger King was a better option.  Thankfully we opted for the drive thru.

“Who wants to go to the park??” my mom asked enthusiastically.

The level of panic rising in my throat was only outmatched by the excitement of my siblings.  There was no way out.  We all loved the park.  I just generally enjoyed it more with pants.

After climbing out of the car and surveying the situation, I knew I was done for.  Everything in a playground was built to blow one’s cover if they’re missing any article of clothing.  Everything I once enjoyed became an anxiety attack of someone noticing my lower half.

Miraculously I somehow managed to not blow my cover.  Perhaps it was because I was behaving like I was coming down with the bird flu while constantly pulling at my clothing.

“How ’bout some ice cream!” my dad suggested – our faces lighting up like dogs with chew toys.  I was mostly excited that it was getting darker and hopefully I was finally in the clear.  Amazing!  A day without a single person noticing!  I was awesome!!!

Somewhere in my excitement I must have gotten a little careless.  Maybe I bent over to pick up a skittle on the floor.  All I remember was my father’s face in the driveway.

“Ohmygod!!  Where the hell are your pants?!?”

And that’s why I don’t go to swimming pools anymore.