Marc Jason's Boutique

Why did John Lennon walk into the Indica Gallery in London in November 1966? Would he have walked into the gallery in 1962 when the Beatles were in their infancy? Would he have walked into the gallery in 1964 when Beatlemania was at its peak? I’m not sure. However, what I can say for sure in John Lennon evolved from 1962 when The Beatles were perfecting their skills in London bars to 1964 when The Beatles were showcasing their immense skills on the Ed Sullivan Show to that November 1966 day when he met Yoko. He changed. He evolved.

Ultimately, John met Yoko, and the rest is history. Unfortunately, uninformed trolls were unkind to Yoko especially throughout John’s lifetime. According to her critics, she was the reason The Beatles ended. She was the sorceress who led John away from The Beatles to bed-ins. If she had not come along, The Beatles would have never split was the naysayers’ argument. Yet, the argument misses one key point.

People grow up. People evolve. People do not grow up in a linear fashion. We meet people. We learn. We fail and learn from our failures. We experience new things. As a result, we grow. We evolve. We change. The Beatles at their height were experiencing life in a way no one had ever experienced. The opportunities and people open to them made it inevitable they were going to change. The only question was how.

Prior to John meeting Yoko, The Beatles evolved from a bar band playing Chuck Berry & Motown covers to full-fledged pop idols with the first albums to a singing version of the Marx brothers in A Hard Day’s Night to introspective balladeers with Rubber Soul. They changed right in front of everyone’s eyes.

Individually, John and Paul McCartney started collaborating less. Paul loved (and still loves) making music. Music is his challenge, but he views being a musician as more of a profession than the others. Music is his job, and he loves his job.

I believe John loves making music as well. However, for him, music became a form of self-expression. He evolved from wanting to be the next Elvis to being a Dylan-like troubadour. He became more interested in the world outside of The Beatles and outside of his family. He became more artistic, and his artistic side led him to the Indica Gallery.

In hindsight, Yoko is the biggest symbol of his evolution. After meeting Yoko, John became more artier, more open, and more political. Nonetheless, he was also evolving away from The Beatles. In his mid-twenties, he was a much different person than he was in his early twenties. This is perfectly fine and normal. It means he was human.

I think all of us change throughout our lives. Who wants to the be same person at 26 as they were at 22? I believe I’m a different person at 51 than I was at 50.

We meet people. We learn. We fail and learn from our failures. We experience new things. As a result, we grow. We evolve. We change. It is all a part of life.

The “problem” with John’s growth was it put the final nail in The Beatles’ coffin. However, it is not Yoko’s fault for their dissolution. The dissolution was inevitable. They were growing apart as friends and colleagues in their twenties often do. Yoko was a reflection of John’s growth, not the cause.

Last month, Yoko turned 90. To celebrate, I would like to toast her and raise a toast to personal evolution. Life would be boring without it even it causes the dissolution of the world’s greatest musical act.

If the Beatles had recorded “Marquee Moon,” it would be on the absolute short list of greatest singles of all-time along with “Like A Rolling Stone,” “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” “Good Vibrations,” and “A Day In The Life.” Instead, it is just merely in the conversation for one of the best 500 singles of all time.

I saw Television and their album, Marquee Moon, in many all-time greatest album lists. Yet, I always glimpsed over Television to read about the greats made by The Beatles, Prince, Dylan, or Nirvana. Then, a few years ago, I started exploring other “greatest albums of all time,” which I previously ignored. The Stone Roses. The Bends. Transformer. Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. So, I eventually found my way to Marquee Moon.

Another album I discovered in the last decade, The Ramones, came out in 1976. The Ramones played short quick songs as fast and melodically as they could.

The following year saw more epochal punk albums with the release of The Clash and Never Mind The Bullocks…Here’s the Sex Pistols. The Clash and The Sex Pistols played as loud and as hard as they could, and they did not hide their disdain for their overseers (government, police, The Queen).

Right in the middle of this punk rock bonanza was Marquee Moon. Marquee Moon came out after The Ramones’ debut and prior to The Clash and The Pistols.

While the Ramones were playing songs barely breaking two minutes, Television had guitar solos lasting two minutes, and one notable solo lasting six minutes, which I’ll get to later.

While Joe Strummer was yelling “White Riot” and Sid Vicious was calling for “Anarchy in the UK,” Television was more interested in taking listeners on a journey of their New York.

While The Clash and The Sex Pistols played power chords as hard and loud as humanly possible, Television was much closer to David Bowie, The Modern Lovers and Roxy Music. For Marquee Moon, Television’s two guitarists, Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd, blended rock with jazz overtones for a more melodic sound.

This melodic sound can be heard in the opening chords of the album opener, “See No Evil.” While “See No Evil” was not going to blow listeners’ speakers out, it was as melodic as any soft rock dominating the radio in 1977.

“Friction” is another song featuring the dueling jazzy melodic guitars of Verlaine and Lloyd. “Friction” leads into the album’s centerpiece and title track, “Marquee Moon.”

The song begins with a double-stopped guitar intro before drummer Billy Ficca’s comes into provide support. Everything just blends perfectly like the finest wine.

Lloyd’s guitar playing including a solo after the second verse flows in and out.

Ficca’s drums and Fred Smith’s bass providing the sturdy foundation. They play the perfect supporting characters: they advance the story without getting in the way of the leading characters.

Then, you have Verlaine. First, his guitar flourishes at the end of the verses are as romantic as anything The Edge ever played.

His singing is perfect for the song. “Marquee Moon” does not require a classically trained vocalist or a smooth crooner like Sam Cooke or Marvin Gaye. It needs someone who can hold a note with a tinge of a punkish sneer. Verlaine admirably fills the role.

Ultimately, what makes “Marquee Moon” one of the greatest singles of all time is Verlaine’s six-minute guitar solo. I’m not sure what we can from music. To make us feel uplifted. To make us feel like the world as endless possibilities. To teach us. To make us appreciate the art form. The “Marquee Moon” guitar solo accomplishes all these objectives.

The solo just blows my mind every time I hear it. I hear rock, specifically “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed.” I hear a lot of Duane Allman’s improvising in Verlaine’s playing. I hear John McLaughlin’s playing in Verlaine’s work.

I see colors when listening to Verlaine’s playing. I see waves crashing against rocks as completes his flourishes.

Most importantly, I feel hopeful. I feel like Jack and Rose standing at the edge of The Titanic with adrenaline flowing throughout my body. I do not feel confined to my normal self-imposed mental box, which is probably “Marquee Moon’s” greatest trick of all.

At the end of the solo, Television circles back to the double-stopped guitar, which opened the song. The rhythm section gets to take the lead for a few bars before Verlaine comes in to finish the song with more vocals and guitar heroics. The song lasts a way too fast 10 minutes and 30 seconds. I honestly believe if The Beatles had made “Marquee Moon” and released it as a single, radio stations would have played the full 10-and-a-half-minute version.

The second side of the album features more exquisite guitar playing especially on the lilting “Guiding Light.” However, it feels like come down after listening to “Marquee Moon.” I usually spend side two in a “Marquee Moon” stupor and even the high-quality songs on the second side cannot pull me out of it.

The brilliant singer and guitarist behind Television and “Marquee Moon,” Tom Verlaine, passed away on January 28, 2023, at the age of 73. Unfortunately, I just discovered Verlaine about seven years ago and did not get chance to spend as much time with him as other heroes like Lennon, Chuck D, and Springsteen. However, for as talented as all three of these visionaries are, none of them wrote a song that ever takes me to the highs of “Marquee Moon.” No shame in that. Very few have.

Early this summer, Zion made it known he was not feeling doing any type of schoolwork during his break. The eager to learn pre-schooler and kindergartener was replaced with a sullen grade schooler. Maybe, he did not know any better when he was younger.

After a month of inactivity, I found a website called outschool.com, which has all sorts of interesting classes for kids and adults for any subject. Since Zion wants to be a builder (engineer or architect), I signed him up for STEM classes. Eventually, I found daily 90-minute Minecraft classes, which I thought he would love.

Early on, he did love the classes quite a bit. Inevitability, he started to burn out on the classes, and it became a chore. Towards the end of the summer, I gave him a day off per week just to get through the remaining the classes.

Zion has also gotten more into Roblox this summer. So, I signed him up for a Roblox. This was even a chore for him. He was clearly burned out.

Guess he will not be too excited about the two Minecraft classes and two week roller coaster building class I signed him up for in September and October.

I take some solace from another point Michelle Obama made in her book “Becoming.”

Kids know when you devalue their education, and they will behave accordingly.

Zion might not agree with my methods and think he is taking too many classes. However, I ‘m confident he does not feel devalued. If I quit pushing him, he will feel devalued and behave accordingly.

I’ll keep pushing him and keep hoping for the best.

Recently, I started listening to Michelle Obama’s book “Becoming.”

One of the early stories discusses her first piano recital. Mrs. Obama received piano lessons from her great aunt, Robbie. Robbie’s piano was a raggedy upright with yellow keys. Furthermore, the middle C key, a piano’s “north star,” was chipped and not perfectly in the middle of the piano. In Mrs. Obama’ mind, this is what a piano should be: raggedy, chipped, yellow and not perfectly aligned.

When Mrs. Obama arrived at the piano recital, she learned she would be playing on a perfect, or as she put it “flawless,” baby grand piano. When it was her turn to play, she froze because she was unable to find the middle C key. She was so used to Robbie’s piano she could not make the transition to a different and “flawless” piano. Luckily, Robbie came up to the stage, placed Mrs. Obama’s finger on the middle C key and Mrs. Obama was able to play her song.

This is a reminder. We accept less than perfect things in life because we do not know a better way. Sometimes, it is settling a job or life partner because we believe this is as good as it can truly get. Even though in our minds, we were hoping for so much more out of life.

Everyone needs their Aunt Robbie. Someone to show us things can better or flawless. Do not settle for the way things have been. Always believe things can be better. You just need to find your shiny and perfectly centered middle C key.

Today, I started listening to Lisa Brennan-Jobs’ “Small Fry.” She mentions an incident in the book involving her mother and palm reading. Her mother was reading her palm but was unable to tell Lisa’s right hand from her left hand. Lisa’s mom is dyslexic, and people with dyslexia sometimes cannot tell the right hand from their left.

My son, Zion, often struggles telling his left hand from his right hand. I was not sure if this was normal. Maybe, all nine-year old boys struggle distinguishing between their hands. Nevertheless, it was a little frustrating for me (and especially his piano teacher).

Well, Zion is also dyslexic. I assumed it was just a learning disability tied to reading. I did not realize dyslexia could impact him in other areas. The reason why he struggles knowing which hand is which is dyslexia. It feels like someone lifted a giant weight off my shoulders.

At his next piano lesson, I’ll share the news with his piano teacher, and we both owe Lisa Brennan-Jobs’ mother a thanks.

Is This Your King? Yes . He. Is! – Michael B. Jordan on Chadwick Boseman

Colon cancer. Does the English language contain two worse words?

I suffer from hemorrhoids. Every year, I have to give a stool sample to confirm the blood in my stool result from hemorrhoids not colon cancer. Waiting for the results is always nerve-racking. I am confident the tests will always come back negative, but the thought of having cancer petrifies me. My son already experienced enough loss in his life. He does not need to lose me as well.

This month, colon cancer claimed the lives of two individuals I admired from a far.

First, we lost Jamie Samuelsen, a local sports radio talk show. Unbelievably, I listened to Jamie over half of both of our lives. Jamie was born less than three months before me. Automatically, I felt a connection. In addition, his sport takes combined thought, reason and logic instead of the hot takes made famous by Stephen A. Smith and lesser talented talking heads. If I were a sports talk show host, I would be like Jamie: measured, even-keeled and judicious.

In January 2019, a doctor diagnosed Jamie with Stage IV Colon Cancer. He survived another 18 months including playing a three set tennis match a few weeks prior to his death. Sadly, his health deteriorated quickly, and he died less than a month after his tennis match.

Next, we lost Chadwick Boseman, The Black Panther. Zion and I love The Black Panther. Chadwick portrayed The Black Panther with soul, cool, grace, intelligence and toughness. The epitome of Blackness. He brought the same qualities to other characters he played like James Brown, Thurgood Marshall and Jackie Robinson.

Similar to Jamie, Chadwick kept his diagnosis secret. Unbelievably, the doctor diagnosed his cancer in 2016, and he kept it secret for four years and 10 movies. He finally succumbed this past Friday.

Whenever I feel like “cancer cannot happen to me” or “I can push that colonoscopy off to next year”, I will think of Jamie and Chadwick. Their strength. Their courage. Their quiet fights. Most of all, I will think of how much they would want me to take Colon Cancer seriously. I will never forget this lesson.

Last weekend, I went bike riding with Zion when I noticed a strange sight. A bald spot the size of a nickel. Not on myself but on the nine-year old, Zion. Naturally, I googled “child hair loss” and “bald spots on children” while biking. Does he have a scalp infection or an autoimmune disease? A couple of nights later, I got my answer.

I walked into my bedroom and saw a pair of scissors on my dresser. Surrounding the scissors were hair clippings. Zion cut his hair. This took me back to the seventh grade when classmates teased and bullied me because of my unkempt hair. Trying to quiet the teasing, I found a pair of electric clippers in my mother’s bathroom and went to work.

Nowadays, the natural look is much more common, and this was Zion’s style. I assumed he liked his hair. Unfortunately, I never brushed, combed or styled it. I want to pick his hair, but he always lets out a blood-curdling howl when the pick catches one of his knapps. I stopped trying altogether. I should have kept trying.

After his latest work, Zion had a nike symbol size bald spot in his hair, and I treated him exactly the same way my parents treated me 35 years ago: a trip to the barber shop. The exact same barber shop. Zion got a low cut fade with a “Z” shaved into his hair. The same cut he received many times in the past. Back in the eighties, I got most of my hair cut off. Not quite as low as Zion but enough to stop the teasing and bullying.

In a couple of years (if not sooner), I will no longer have any say in Zion’s hairstyles. I kind of hopes he picks a natural style. It suits him and distinguishes him from me. If further wants to distinguish himself from me, he needs to stay away from scissors and clippers. As long as he does not have any nickel bald spots or nike symbols in his hair, he’ll be accepted warmly by his classmates.

When I lost my mother in 2016, I lost a lot. I lost my teacher, mentor, spiritual guide, conscious, biggest supporter and…best babysitter. She was my go-to babysitter for her grandson, Zion. She was thrilled to babysit her grandson. Five months after holding her first grandson, she died suddenly and unexpectedly. I had a monumental child care void to fill. In walked, Danielle and Ana.

A friend of Danielle referred her to us shortly after my mom’s death. She was sixteen when she started. The first time she babysat, she locked Zion and herself out of the house. I was half way to a concert when she called to inform me. Not the best very impression, but she clearly cared about doing a good job. She stuck around for her senior year, first three years of college, different majors and different part-time jobs. This spring when I needed her most, she came through big time. Due to COVID, Zion was home with me, and I needed help during the day balancing our two schedules. She worked two or three days a week from March through the end of the school year in June. She was an absolute godsend keeping our household together. Now, she is off to finish her college studies in Colorado as Zion begins the school year remotely. God, please send me another Danielle…

Soon after Danielle joined our family, we connected with Ana on care.com. Ana was the perfect person at the perfect time. Ana is an experienced nanny so spending three hours on a Sunday afternoon with a five-year old boy was not going to phase her. For those three hours, she ran the household liked she lived here. She was my go-to babysitter for the past four years. Toastmaster meetings, date nights, concerts, Michigan football games, picking Zion up from soccer lessons and mostly Sunday afternoons when I needed a break, she was always there. When the Board of Education approved my application to become the Chief Financial and Operating Officer for Southfield Public Schools, she was the first person I told because she was, naturally, babysitting. Now, she is getting married in September and pursing her CPA.

Ana left us with a thought about how life is about change. Yes, it is. Sometimes, change hurts. Nevertheless, we will survive.

To Danielle and Ana, thank you for becoming members of our extended family and all the best life has to offer.

Talk less, smile more. These are lyrics from the song “Aaron Burr, Sir” in the musical Hamilton. I absolutely love Hamilton. Last month, when it came to Disney+, I watched the movie twice the during the first day. My son, Zion, watched with me during the second viewing. Naturally, I was singing, having a good time and in pure bliss. Right out of the blue, Zion looked up with an astonished look on his face said “Dad, you’re smiling!”

Mister Toastmaster. My fellow Toastmasters. Honored guests. Zion is a lot of things. A soccer player, wannabe dragon slayer, Nintendo gamer and most importantly, truth sayer. Zion is the king of uncomfortable truths, which he always gives in a blunt yet innocent way. Last month, in his blunt yet innocent way, he informed let me know I do not smile very often.

Do you know how much it stings when your child says you do not smile enough? I was surprised. Look, I will never be the life of the party or be happy go lucky as Bluto Blutarsky. However, I smile from time to time. Every pay day, every solar eclipse and every time the Lions win a Super Bowl, I have a HUGE smile on my face. Am I smiling the in between those times? Maybe, not as much as I thought. At least not around Zion.

For those unaware, I am a single parent. Being a single parent is not easy. Around Zion, I am cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, helping him with homework, getting him ready for school or bed. The smiles are usually few and far between. I am doing what I need to do to keep him safe and healthy. Most days, I am not mad or sad when doing these tasks. More matter of fact. However, a nine-year old boy is subject to interpret things differently. Unfortunately, Zion might interpret the look on my face as sad or mad.

How do you smile more? The last thing you want is your child being more excited about seeing a smile than he is on Christmas Day. Is it a matter of spending more time playing Nintendo, slaying imaginary dragons and kicking a soccer ball? Is it watching Hamilton every day? Whatever the solution is, I need to find it.

If I’m going to wait for a Lions Super Bowl to start smiling, Zion is going to have a sad childhood. That’s the last thing I want for him. I need to start finding the fun in life and giving Zion the happy household he deserves. I’ll leave you with this thought Talk Less Smile More. Find the fun in life. You and the ones you love and love you will benefit.

Daily Soundtrack: Black Is King by Beyonce

The U.S. Navy’s first Black female tactical air (TACAIR) pilot received her Wings of Gold on Saturday, July 31, 2020, marking a significant milestone for Naval Aviation.

Lt. j.g. Madeline G. Swegle was designated a naval aviator and received her Wings of Gold with 25 classmates during a small ceremony at Naval Air Station (NAS) Kingsville, Texas.

I was surprised to learn Lt. Swegle is the first female black fighter pilot. I assumed someone beaten her to it. Bessie Coleman was the first African American female pilot to get her license in 1921, and it is hard to believe it took almost 100 years for the first female fighter pilot.

This is more of a reflection of society and lack of opportunity than lack of want. Lt. Swegle is not the first black female to want to defend our country from the air. Unfortunately, without the opportunity or the pioneer to break the glass ceiling, these black females went into other professions leaving America’s tactical air defense to others.

Now, the glass ceiling is broken. Lt. Swegle is first but will not be the last black female tactical air fighter. America’s fighter pilots are about to become a more diverse and inclusive group, and we all benefit.

Thank you, Bessie Coleman and thank you, Lt. Swegle.