The Drugs We Don't Use

Recently, Susan and I have taken to watching “Weeds” on Netflix. The tale of Nancy Botwin, a widowed mother who decides the best way to raise her two sons and maintain her upper-middle class lifestyle is to become a marijuana dealer to her upper-middle class neighbors, “Weeds” is dark, hilarious, and chock full of parental techniques not to try at home. But it does bring up a point that is present in many adoptions – the quiet acceptance of drug use.

When you begin the adoption process, a million questions are thrown your way. Domestic or international? Infant or toddler or foster care? Race? Religion? Then, one day, you find yourself taking one of the prerequisite parent training courses and faced with the question, “just how much heroin are you okay with?”

The problem is, if you've already gotten this far in the adoption process, it's probably because, at least in part, you've never had to ask yourself “just how much heroin am I okay with?” But it's a question you must be able to answer because the likelihood of your birth mother being drug-free is not to be expected (thankfully, I write this as someone who's birth mother is drug-free). So there you find yourself, debating with your partner or yourself, where you stand on marijuana use in the second trimester, cocaine use before knowledge of the pregnancy, alcohol - when and how much, opiates - deal-breaker or not. (Notice the absence of tobacco, a drug whose use you simply have to accept unless you're willing to wait a very long time.) You learn the oddest facts, like the dreaded “crack baby” epidemic of the '80s never played out as feared. While it's true that most babies born addicted to cocaine are born prematurely, the drugs actually accelerated their development so they are better off than other premies. Time has proven that “crack babies” are no more likely to be drug addicts than anyone else. So maybe, you find yourself thinking, you're fine with a little bit of crack. It's not like it's meth.

Of course, at this point, the debate is all academic, a series of hypotheticals to ponder as you wait and wait and wait. Then you get word. There's a child, either recently born or soon to be, that could be yours. You could be a parent next week if.... If you're willing to accept admitted cocaine use in the first trimester. Now the debate is real.

Your first reaction is “yes, a million times yes! This could be our child, damn the drug use!” But this can be an irresponsible reaction as well. If you're not willing to accept all that comes with a baby born addicted – the withdrawal, the developmental issues – saying “yes” for its own sake is a mistake that cannot be rectified.

Which leaves you in the worst position an adoptive hopeful can be in, saying “no.” Knowing there is a child out there that needs a home and declaring that it's not meant to be your home is one of the most self-loathing things you can do. You feel arrogant, superior, and selfish, not to mention the fact that you just extended your own excruciating waiting period. I can assure you, as someone who can generally find the silver lining, having to say “no” can only be rationalized so far because, deep down, you know you're saying “not good enough.” It's not because the baby isn't good enough; the baby is perfect. It's because you're not sure if you are.

But it's what you must do if you're not certain. Being a parent means making tough decisions. And being an adoptive parents means you're going to have to make some of those decisions before you've even come up with a theme for the nursery. Might as well get used to it.

The Date That Shall Be

Here’s something they do not tell you when you order furniture for your nursery – it’s huge. We ordered a pretty standard six-drawer dresser and a crib. On Saturday, we took our Ford Ranger Bought for Two Bottles of Wine to pick them up confident in the fact that they would easily fit and the truck would earn its keep. We pull up to the loading dock and out comes this box that could have saved another 12 people off of the Titanic and a gentlemen who kindly says “Oh, that ain’t gonna work.” Given our other transportation options “comfortably” seat five adults, the truck is the only option we have. (Side note: the truck also lacks for power steering, air conditioning, and power windows – truly a vehicle after my father-in-law’s heart - and required Susan to drive separately just in case it needed yet another jump to start. And that rhyme was accidental.)

In the end, this required separate trips for each item, with the crib only fitting because we did not get a “lifetime” bed – a crib that turns into a toddler bed that turns into a full bed which they market as “the crib your child can take to college.” Those things are massively large. These are the things the baby books don’t tell you about.

As for now, the dresser and crib are in the garage “outgassing,” which, I am assured, is a concept with which I’m going to have to get very comfortable. Basically, new future has pesky little odors that come with their construction. Given Junior’s limited immune system, the furniture must be allowed time to emit all of the chemicals related to its creation before it actually gets used. These are the things the baby books tell you about.

The biggest news is that the Date of Delivery has once again moved up. Originally set for June 6, then June 1, the show will officially start May 24 for that is when the c-section is scheduled. This has required us to alter other parts of our schedule; specifically, the date to begin commencing panic has been moved up to April 1.

Having already established an internal deadline of the end of April to have everything in place, this still works for us, though it does require us to now figure out what everything is and where its place might be. Anyone who has seen our kitchen over the past year knows that color selection and room design are not well-developed skills within the denizens of this home.

One of the great things about this new date is that it greatly reduces the concern about our clearances expiring before we could leave Florida. As mentioned before, there was a slim chance that, given the 7-to-10 days typically required to process the interstate compact agreement, our clearances would expire before the paperwork was processed, leaving us in some unknown baby limbo. A May 24 birthday reduces this concern significantly. Of course, it also means that we just wasted money to get recleared, but, at this point, I care not.

Trouble On The Tube

Next week CBS News will be running an expose on an adoption scam that, according to their ad (here, if you're so inclined: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7360577n&tag=mncol;lst;1), is taking advantage of "couples desperate for a child." This ad goes beyond your typical over-sensationalizing news hype for pieces that don't blow the lid off of anything; it's insulting.

Adoption is not an act of desperation. It is not a means of last resort. With the glut of fertility options available today, the ability to have a biological child is more a factor of how far you're willing to go to have one than on your ability to. Adoption is a choice, a decision just like any other. Certainly, other factors can play a part in that decision, but that choice should never be considered the last desperate gasp of the pathetic and childless. And those who choose to adopt should not be classified that way in order to sell ad space during the nightly news.

Mild rant now over.

Go Right Ahead and Call It a Comeback

So, where were we?

Last I wrote, we had met with Sam and Diane in a restaurant in Florida and decided we were all willing to do this. The big news is that we now know the gender of the child. Personally, neither Susan or I felt a strong need to know this information. Had Diane not wanted to find out herself, we wouldn't have asked it of her. We thought about just keeping the information to ourselves but came to the realization that it was only a matter of time before we slipped with a gender-specific pronoun. So, a boy it is.

Having nothing but nieces this does throw some of my limited parenting experience out of the window. But I was allegedly a boy at some point, and I survived that, so I must know something about them. The name, as I've said before, will not be revealed until he is, but our internal deliberations had a much longer list of girl names than one for boys. Let's face it, boy names stink. Of course, my strategy of "we'll know the right name when we hear it" isn't the most efficient tactic and leads to the random blurting out of random names to see if they'll stick.

As for the adoption itself, everything is progressing nicely. We (by which I mean Susan, as I'm a horrible phone conversationalist) speak with Diane about ever other week, just to keep touch. That really is a rare treat in the adoption world. Typically, you never interact with the birth mother; it's much more of a business transaction. Everything is happening as it should.

Our only speedbump to date has been our clearances. When you adopt, you have to jump through many administrative and bureaucratic hoops to be qualified to adopt. But those qualifications are only valid for one year. Ours expire June 9. Our son is due to be born June 1. Once he is born, we cannot leave the state with him until our paperwork (the interstate compact agreement) has been processed. That typically takes between seven and ten days. Doing the math, the worst case scenario leads us to having a child that we cannot legally take home because our clearances expired before the paperwork is processed.

Yes, this is a highly unlikely scenario, and I am typically the last person to play the "worst case scenario" card. But that's because I'm willing to play the odds and accept the consequences if I'm wrong. I'm not willing to be wrong this time. As such, we've rejumped through the bureaucratic hoops to get recleared. The only problem now is that it takes two to four months to process the clearances. And that's a worst case scenario I'd rather not ponder.

Take Me Back, Blog

Dear Blog,

No, I did not forget about you. I know for a time there, you and I were pretty close. Things were happening with the adoption, and you were my means of spreading the word without having to repeat myself twenty times. I'd have something to report, and there you would be, patiently waiting to be voice, no matter what time of night or how random the thought. You never judged me. Then I just up and left you.

I know what you're thinking. This new report came into my life, and I dedicated all of my writing time to it. And you're right. I spent a month writing a 26-page report that 26 people might ever read. But I had no choice, ol' blog-o-mine. The boss said "write" and I said "how much?"

But I never forgot about you, bloggy dearest. I knew you would wait for me, for you have proven yourself loyal by the fact that you're free of charge and with minimum features. So, what do you say we get back into this? There's thoughts to share!

Your Loving Author

The Meeting of Rock

Things to do when you show up an hour early for your first meeting with the birth parents: sit in the restaurant parking lot, ponder what to do; drive across the street to the grocery store/tortilla factory to get your caffeine fix; drive back across the street, sit in the restaurant parking lot, ponder what to do; move to another parking space in the same restaurant parking lot so you won’t be sitting in the sun, ponder what to do; wait until you’re supposed to arrive, go inside; wait because everyone else is running late.

At least, that’s what we did.

Eventually, the meeting did happen. Both Sam and Diane were there, along with the attorney. As advised, we let them drive the conversation. This meeting was about them being comfortable with us, feeling that we are the right parents and people who can give their child what they want. Their primary concern is not losing their connection to this child, which is perfectly understandable by us and fits perfectly with our interests as well. A time will come that our child will have questions that we simply cannot answer. It’s nice to know that there will be someone a phone call away who can.

Our only question – why did they pick us – was answered. The official word is that our book came off as “a loving couple who is laid back.” Sam was particularly pleased that we rock the Guitar Hero enough to include a picture of it in our book. And, to think, Susan thought I was silly, if not downright ridiculous, for wanting the game in the first place.

After about two hours of talking and nobody eating more than half of what they ordered, we exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. I have no new details about the baby. And there’s definitely several hundred things about yesterday that I haven’t mentioned, if only because my mind is still processing.

But that’s what future blog posts are for.

Antici.............. pation

I must say, Dulles, at least parts of it, has become a nice airport. It’s been my travel hub for 24 years, and it has always had this “here’s what we thought the future would look like 40 years ago and boy were we wrong” vibe to it. But it’s finally getting somewhere, what with its new security screening area, subway system, and, to top it off, Chipotle.

As for my destination, come to find out, Fort Lauderdale has two airports. There’s the one I flew into, Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood, and the one that my hotel is right next to, Fort Lauderdale Executive. I have to assume that I’m not the only one to ever be caught by this confusion, and they were nice enough to place the two within 12 minutes of each other, but they need to rethink their branding around here. Or I need to get paid more.

Last night was not the best for sleeping. Nerves, combined with a foreign bed and curtains that only cover one-fourth of the window, made that an inevitable truth. The two-hour drive ahead of us should only heighten things. Here’s hoping that Florida has no traffic, because it has already demonstrated to have drivers who consider the interstate speed limit to be a variable range, somewhere between 45 and 80.

We’ve tried to anticipate every question, but that’s obviously impossible. If Diane asks if we’re Team Jacob or Team Edward, we’re in trouble because I’m not even sure those are the right teams. At this point, we just have to be honest and hope no one changes their mind about this whole thing. (Yes. That is a possibility. In fact, it’s the point of this meeting.)

On a side note, does anyone ever read the USA Today other than when at a hotel?

We Travel By Plane, Hopefully

Less than 25 hours to our meeting with Diane (and maybe Sam). Nerves have set in as the need to pack brings on the first real decision – what will I wear tomorrow? Per our adoption attorney, I should look “put together.” To me, this has traditionally meant “wear a belt.” But then she dropped this bombshell, “If you wear jeans, wear nice jeans.” I did not know there were degrees to jeans. So I’m going with the fallback position of every styleless male, khakis. And a belt.

Next on the list of possibly devastating decisions is the flight itself. The weather is fine here and at our destination, but we don’t know where our flight is originating from. If our plane is starting the day in Chicago or Boston or New York or Pittsburgh or pretty much anywhere else that just got pounded with snow and ice, it might not be sitting at Dulles waiting for us. Given the timing of our flight, its cancellation would leave us with 21 hours to make an 18-hour drive. The only good thing about that scenario is that it leaves no time for any stops at Cracker Barrel.

Hopefully, six hours from now, I’ll be in south Florida, enjoying a 50 degree uptick in temperature while hunting down some good Cuban cuisine and thinking up pithy things to say in an update. But I’m fully prepared to be, as my mom would say, “flying low” down I-95, desperately trying to prove GoogleMaps time estimate woefully high.

We Travel By Tube

The Internet is a magical place. There’s a website for almost anything. Have some bad photos that you inexplicably uploaded and now want to dump from your Facebook account but you just can’t accept denying them to the rest of the world? Www.deletedimages.com is just to place for that blurry shot of your toiletries. Having scaled Mount Everest, must you now place your standard atop the world “highest” website? Get yeself to http://worlds-highest-website.com/. So in preparation for next Friday’s meeting/lunch with Diane (Sam will not be in attendance), I logically began by trolling the tubes and tunnels of the web.

And, yes, information is out there. There are pages about questions what to ask birth parents in a closed adoption. Questions to ask birth parents you met through advertising, not an agency placement. Questions that adoptees have for their birth parents. Questions birth parents have about the people adopting their child.

(I should note here that all of these pages have one thing in common - they always refer to the birth mother, not the birth parents. Having the actual involvement, let alone knowledge and consent, of both birth parents, as we do, is such a rarity that it’s naturally assumed as doubtful.)

The consensus of these sites is that, during the first meeting, you keep things light. Everyone’s already nervous. Everyone’s already judging everyone else. You will question everything you do and say. Are they vegetarians that you just insulted by ordering the MeatMaster Supreme? Do they think we’ll think they’re uneducated or irresponsible? Are jokes appropriate? (I’m screwed if they’re not.) Keep it simple. Talk about what you know; don’t put on airs; don’t try to be who you think they want you to be. And listen to everything they have to say. You don’t have to become fast friends, but you must quickly establish some basic level of trust. It’s a remarkably odd meeting between complete strangers who are going to change each others lives.

So, next Friday, that’s what I’m going to try to do. I’m going to meet the birth mother of my child, and I’m going start learning about her. And I’m going to try to break through my own personal social ineptitude to let her know something about me. Because that’s what the Internet has advised me to do.

Hopefully, I'll remember not to order the shrimp.

#13: Jónsi, “Go Do”

I’ve been a fan of Sigur Rós since my days in Boston. Their sound has always been difficult to describe. Soaring. Glacial. Cinematic. And add in that, when they are not singing in their native Icelandic, it’s in an entirely fictional tongue they call Hopelandic.

So when word came that Sigur Rós was invoking the worst phrase in music history - indefinite hiatus - the worst was assumed. But lead singer, Jónsi Birgisson, clearly felt no need for a rest. Four months after the announced break, he released his debut album, Go.

From the frontman of a band known for its dense sound, “Go Do” continues the natural weirdness of Sigur Rós, but comes off as alternatively fluttering and driving. The benefit of lyrics in English shows how incredibly positive Jónsi can be. And sometimes you just need someone to remind you that the beauty is in the basics.

“Go sing, too loud.”

“Go drum, too proud.”

“Go do, you’ll know how to.”

“Go do!”

Carpe diem!

Go to the Hype Machine! http://hypem.com/#!/search/go%20do/1/.

Go watch the video.

#14: Broken Bells, "The High Road"

Scene – the Roskilde Festival in Denmark, 2004.

A man sits alone, enjoying a Carlsberg lager. He is listening not to the music of the festival, but a recently released album called The Grey Album, a mashup consisting of vocals from Jay-Z’s The Black Album and music from the Beatles self-titled album, better known as The White Album. The album has quickly risen to prominence, in part because of record label EMI’s attempt to halt its distribution and in part because it is the creation of an unknown artist known only as Danger Mouse.

Enters a young songwriter and producer named Brian Burton. He recognizes the man sitting alone.

Burton: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but you’re James Mercer, right?”

Mercer: “Indeed, I am.”

Burton: “I just wanted to say that I’m a fan of your band, The Shins. Big fan.”

Mercer: “That’s nice of you to say.”

Burton: “I see you’re listening to The Grey Album.”

Mercer: “Have you heard it? I wish I knew who this Danger Mouse guy is.”

Burton: “You’re not signed to EMI, are you?”

Mercer: “No. Why?”

Burton: “Because that’s me.”

End scene.

The relationship between James Mercer and Danger Mouse, the duo that compromise Broken Bells, probably didn’t start exactly in that manner, but let’s just assume it’s not that far off. It took another five years before Mercer and Burton would turn their mutual respect into music, but that is what they did.

The combination of the introverted Mercer and the mad man Burton makes little sense at first blush. And even less on second thought. But the duo works because both men are pop-science nerds capable of finding the middle ground, willing to experiment outside of their own comfort levels until they find something common within each other, because “they know, and so do I/The high road is hard to find.”

The State of the Hype Machine Union: http://hypem.com/#!/search/the%20high%20road/1/.

Video won’t let you down, but it’s still down there.

#15: Titus Andronicus, "Four Score and Seven"

When you're a punk rock band from New Jersey named after Shakespeare's most gruesome drama and you named your first album after a Seinfeld reference, you probably have some pretty big ambitions. That's likely why you decided to make your second album, The Monitor, a relationship concept album styled entirely as a Civil War pastiche, with not a single song coming in within the typical three to five minutes in length.

“Four Score and Seven” is really a two-parter, starting off as a no-win situation and ending somehow worse off. Its themes make more sense within the greater jock vs. nerd aesthetic of The Monitor, but it's pretty clear that Titus Andronicus is not on the side of the Alpha Betas (see Revenge of the Nerds for any necessary clarification). The closing chant of “It's still us against them” leaves “them” open to your own person target of ire, but, for Titus, it seems directed right at the frat boys and quarterbacks who are most likely shouting along.

Hype Machine, ain't nothing wrong with that: http://hypem.com/#!/search/four%20score%20and%20seven/1/.

A little video never hurt nobody.

Bonus fact on how my brain works: Yes, the aliases I have given my adoption birth parents, Sam and Diane, is partially because there is a track on The Monitor called “The Theme from 'Cheers.'”

They Chose Us

By virtue of caller ID, I knew it was my wife calling. “They chose us,” she said as I answered. My first thought – great, did she apply for some grant or something at work that she’s told me about twenty times that I’ve completely forgotten about and now I’m going to come off sounding like a jackass for not knowing what she’s talking about, again. “The family in Florida, they chose us!”

And that’s how I learned that I am actually going to become a father.

The details in brief: a young couple in Florida, who I’m going to give the aliases Sam and Diane (“Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got”), already with healthy children of their own, are expecting in early June. For their own reasons, they have made an adoption plan for this child and have chosen us as the parents.

As I’ve said before, this will be an open adoption, which is very important to Sam and Diane and to us. The idea that our child will instantaneously have four nieces and multiple siblings is very appealing.

My reaction has been mostly to just stare at my wife with the simultaneous thoughts of “now what?" and “there’s so much to do.” The last few days have been a rush to get the word out, interspersed with periods of stunned silence.

There are many steps to come. On the immediate horizon is reviewing the contract and getting ourselves to Florida to meet with the attorney, Sam, and Diane. And maybe panicking just a little bit.

The Water's Still Fine

I’ve now spent four months in the adoption pool. I was warned that this whole thing can take far longer than that, so patience is still being considered as a virtue at this time. But I can’t guarantee its longevity. Especially with spring a few months away, what with all of its pastel hues and fuzzy ducklings.  To pass the time, I offer up Round 2 of the Adoption FAQ:

Q: Will the adoption be open or closed?

A: Closed adoptions, where there is no contact between the birth parents and the child, are increasingly rare. These days, most adoptions have some degree of openness, that can range anywhere from providing a letter and picture annually to semi-frequent visits. The amount of openness is one of the few areas of direct negotiation between birth parents and their adoptive counterparts. However, I’ve been advised that many birth parents, even those that start off requesting a great deal of openness, tend to fade into the background by their own volition over time.

Q: So your child will know that he/she is adopted?

A: Of course. Most likely, there will be no avoiding this little piece of personal knowledge as the odds do not suggest that my child will look anywhere near as Caucasian as my offspring should. So the jig might be up pretty quickly. Even so, my child will be told that he/she is adopted.

Q: Do you get to choose the name?

A: Sure do.

Q: So?

A: There will be no previews before the main feature.

Q: How much does an adoption cost?

A: It varies widely, depending on your agency and the laws in the state from which you are adopting (some states prohibit the adopting family from covering medical costs during pregnancy; for states that do, that cost typically conveys). Also, many agencies have a sliding scale for their base cost that correlates to the adopting family’s income. Let’s just leave it as “requires budgeting.”

Q: Will you be adopting an infant?

A: That’s the crying, pooping, burping, two-hours-of-sleeping plan.

Q: Are twins a possibility?

A: An unlikely one, but, yes. (And, no, you don’t have to pay double for twins.)

Q: Why not adopt from foster care?

A: In the adoption realm, getting a child from foster care is actually the quickest way to achieving parenthood. The number of children in foster care is higher than any number a reasonable person would want to guess. But there very few infants in the foster care system and that is the aim for this adoption. (Please reference back to my earlier post about this all being quite selfish.)

Q: Why not do an international adoption?

A: International adoptions bring to the table a whole array of other factors that I’m not even aware of. Some are things you would expect (travel), others depend on the country involved (paying off the right bureaucrat at the right time). I’m not trying to make this more complicated than it already is.

Q: Will you adopt again?

A: It’s certainly a possibility and, who knows, maybe that child will come from foster care or overseas.

#16: Deer Tick, "Twenty Miles"

I told you that the list was going to get more country before it was over, and so it does. Of course, given my aversion to Nashville, my brand of country comes from Providence, Rhode Island. And was the first featured artist on Brian Williams’ indie music show, “BriTunes.” (Yes, by Brian Williams I mean the anchor of NBC Nightly News. And that is, apparently, the best name they could come up with.)

Deer Tick’s third album, The Black Dirt Sessions, was actually recorded at the same time as their 2009 effort, Born on Flag Day. Yet, while Flag Day was a playful, alt-country rocker, Black Dirt comes off as far more mature, far more dark and dirty, making the album title seem to be more coincidental than it is (the album was simply completed at Black Dirt Studios).

“Twenty Miles” is a straight forward lover’s lament, but it has the best line yet heard on the list – “Well you are the things that make up my dreams/And I’ve spent every dime that jingles my jeans.” But it’s the cello - the simple, heartbeat-esque, ba-dum, ba-dum – that wins me over and leaves me humming every time.

The Hype Machine won’t steer you wrong: http://hypem.com/#!/search/Twenty%20Miles/1/.

Video is for viewing.

Links of Mystery

"Prize." "My adoption." "Drug addict." Somehow, through no effort or understanding of my own, these three words/phrases in earlier posts have become links to Mighty Magoo games. I have no idea what Mighty Magoo games is or why it wants to associate itself with adopted lotto winners with substance abuse problems. Click at your own peril.

#17: Broken Social Scene, "Texico Bitches"

Broken Social Scene are more a concept than a band, so it shouldn’t be surprising that their music sounds the way it does. Consisting of anywhere between six and nineteen members, BSS are a collection of Canadians that occasionally get together and see what happens. Artists and groups that have one time played as part of BSS include Metric, Stars, the Weakerthans, and Feist (of “1 2 3 4” iPod commercial fame).

Their fourth album, Forgiveness Rock Record, has been nominated for the Polaris Music Prize, given to the best full-length Canadian album (bonus trivia: the first winner of the Polaris was Final Fantasy’s He Poos Clouds). As you would expect from band with so many members, their sound can get pretty dense; “Texico Bitches” is actually quite slimmed down for a BSS production.

Lyrically, the song is all kinds of odd, though it clearly has an anti-oil agenda. That interpretation is only heightened by the equally-odd video, which starts off as a petroleum-soaked fight cheered on by a crowd of face-painted war mongers and turns into something decidedly, shall we say, intimate.

The Hype Machine is the thing: http://hypem.com/#!/search/texico%20bitches/1/.

Video of note be below.

#18: The Tallest Man on Earth, "King of Spain"

Swedish folk. That’s right, Swedish folk.

Anyone who has ever said “I just can’t get past Bob Dylan’s voice” can forego the remainder of this entry. Kristian Matsson, the self-proclaimed and decidedly-not tallest man on earth, has a very distinct, very raw voice. It’s his pure enthusiasm that catches you. His ability with guitar and poetic lyrics keep you around.

The “King of Spain” is seemingly about the transformative powers of love. That’s certainly not new lyrical terrain, but the song twists the formula as the singer fights to stay within his illusion while the object of his desire, the very reason he is having such delusions of grandeur, continually tries to snap him out of it. In the end, it’s the dream of becoming something new, something great, that proves stronger than the love that inspired the thought in the first place.

What’s all the Hype Machine about: http://hypem.com/#!/search/king%20of%20spain/1/.

Video is down there somewhere.

"Good for You" But Not for Me

“Congratulations” doesn’t seem appropriate. No one ever gets congratulated on deciding to have a child. That’s saved for the actual birth. “That’s great” works but seems too general, impersonal. So, when most people find out I’m adopting, they say generally “good for you.” It certainly sounds positive and supportive, even a bit reverent. I hate it.

“Good for you” suggests that my adoption is a selfless act, that I’m saving some destitute child from a certain life of misery. That I am making some great act; that a life with me as a parent will surely be better than the life the child would otherwise have. That my adoption is, in essence, an act of good.

My adoption is entirely selfish. I’ve chosen to start a family and this is how I’ve chosen to do it. I’m not trying to be any sort of parental savior. I’m not traveling to orphanages in war torn countries. There’s a whole list of exposures and disabilities a child may have that I’ve indicated I’m not willing to accept. The odds are more likely that my child will be born to a co-ed who had a little too much fun and not enough responsibility one night than to some homeless drug addict.

Could a child have a better life, greater opportunities, more stability with me as a parent than in any number of horrible situations? I certainly hope I can offer more than the worst case scenario. But that comes down to what kind of parent I’ll be, not how I came to be one. Being a good parent is a truly selfless act. How you get there is entirely not.

So please don’t treat me like a saint. I’m not trying to be one. At least, not yet.

#19: Band of Horses, "Laredo"

“What kind of music do you typically have here?,” asks Elwood upon entering Bob’s Country Bunker. “Oh, we get both kinds. Country and Western,” answers the waitress.

The list hasn’t been particularly diverse up to now. I assure you that will change as straight rock, R&B, and, yes, rap are in the offing. But neither country nor western will be making an appearance. The last country song I remember actually liking was Garth Brooks, “I’ve Got Friends In Low Places.” I’ve heard of but have never heard Taylor Swift. I’m pretty sure the Oak Ridge Boys are no longer around. And I completely missed when Gwyneth Paltrow became “Country Strong.”

Band of Horses are the second-closest I’m going to get to country and/or western on this list (await #16 for the answer to the question not asked). Their album, Infinite Arms, was an international hit, reaching the Top Ten in Denmark, Greece, Norway, and Sweden. However, the Germans never took it higher than #88. (True Fact: the top selling single in Germany for 2010 was a cover of “Over the Rainbow” by Hawaiian Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. Ah, Germans.)

To the Hype Machine! To the Hype Machine: http://hypem.com/#!/search/laredo/1/ which also gives you a taste of Willie Nelson if you keep listening.  

Or go all audio-visual with the video player below.

#20: Phantogram, "When I'm Small"

This list continues to evolve even as it’s created. This slot had been destined for the Local Natives until continued listens (listenings?, what’s the right word there) left me doubting myself. Thankfully, Saratoga Springs, NY, duo Phantogram were warming up in the bullpen ready to step in.

Having opened for at least one band that will appear later on the list (I’ll leave you guessing) and one (the xx) who would have scored highly had I done this last year (thought for future post: retrospective Top 24 for 2009), Phantogram are another electro-groove band. But this isn’t the get up and move vibe of a Fat Boy Slim or a deadmau5; this is nighttime dance in your chair music similar to Portishead.

The lyrics leave me completely guessing to what the song is about, but it doesn’t sound like good news for Lucy. That holds the song back for me. But, with some songs, I’m willing to treat the vocals as if they were just another instrument. “When I’m Small” fits that bill.

Get ye to the Hype Machine: http://hypem.com/#!/search/phantogram/1/.

And the video feed makes its return from a triumphant tour of Europe, Asia, and the subcontinent.

#21: Elizabeth and the Catapult, "Go Away My Lover"

Elizabeth Ziman has a healthy Leonard Cohen obsession. That’s rarely a bad thing. Cohen rivals Tom Waits for the title of Most Absolutely Incredible Lyricist You’ve Never Heard Of Because He Can’t Sing Worth a Damn. Over 2,000 versions of his songs have been done by other artists, most notably Jeff Buckley’s beautiful rendition of “Hallelujah” which just gave me an idea for a future post on Jeff Buckley’s beautiful rendition of “Hallelujah.” There are no Cohen covers on Elizabeth and the Catapult’s second album, The Other Side of Zero, but the entire collection, down to its title, is inspired by him.

How to fail with grace is something most of us could use some practice at. It was the inspiration of Cohen’s collection of poetry that inspired the album (that’s some Double Dog Inspiration right there) and clearly is a vein running through “Go Away My Lover.” From the balancing and mirroring of the two vocalists, to the blunt lyrics (the title does lack a certain subtlety), to the nonchalant whistling that suggests that even this utter failure of a relationship ain’t no big thing, the song reminds me of a mantra of personal preference – Don’t sweat the small shit. And it’s all small shit.

Decided it was better to stop coping other people’s bandwidth. So you can now listen at Hype Machine (http://hypem.com/#!/search/go%20away%20my%20lover/1/).  Just click on the play button. If you want to download, click on “Posted Last Week” to go visit yet another blog. One that pays for its server.

No video on this one either. Boy, I got lazy quickly.

#22: Buke and Gass, "Your Face Left Before You"

Brooklyn duo Buke and Gass decided that they didn’t want to just make music. They also wanted to make their own instruments. Singer Arone Dyer plays a modified baritone-ukulele (hence “buke”) that’s run through a plethora of effects. Band mate Aron Sanchez uses a guitar-bass hybrid (and hence “gass”) that’s run through two separate amps. As if that were not enough, they both simultaneously play a variety of foot pedals, making them really annoying to all aspiring musicians who never could master the recorder (possibly an autobiographical statement).

Yet, what could prove to be a novelty group with homemade instruments and over-reliance on effects is, in effect, a powerful band that makes more noise than two people should be capable of producing. And this doesn’t even take into account Dyer’s vocals, which don’t shy away from matching the band’s sound. 

“Your Face Left Before You,” from their debut, Riposte, is a good example of their sound – jazz, power punk, like the Dirty Projectors as interpreted by two new-age hippies who love to play with their self-made toys.

Download is from the always reliable Stereogum: http://stereogum.com/477022/buke-gass-your-face-left-before-you-stereogum-premiere/mp3s/.

No video stream for this one.

Questions of Frequent Asking About My Adoption

As anyone who’s reading this is aware, I am currently going through the process of adopting my first child. Adoption is one of those concepts that everyone knows about, but only those who have been through it have any real understanding. This is not meant to be a condescending statement; I assure you that a year ago my grasp of what laid before me was more wrong than right. To explain the process as best I can, I’m starting off this discussion with the easiest of entries to write – the FAQ.

Q: Are we working with an agency?

A: Yes. We’re working with a private organization in Maryland.

Q: Will this be a domestic or international adoption?

A: We’re sticking domestic. Our agency works with families in Maryland, Virginia, and D.C. Occasionally, they hear of children through another agency in Florida.

Q: Where are you in the process?

A: We’re officially in the pool of adoption candidates. This is the final stage. Next stop - parenthood.

Q: What did it take to get there?

A: So very much. The process of simply becoming an adoption candidate leaves you with one of two sensations. One, it’s an overbearing intrusion into your life, given all of the required blood tests, letters of recommendation, credit checks, home inspections, and parenting classes, that’s inherently insulting because anyone who spends ten minutes with you will know what kind of parent you’ll be. Or, two, kind of a good idea that everyone should have to go through. I found myself alternating between these two rather frequently, depending on mood and the absurdity of the inquiry.

Q: Boy or girl?

A: The odd thing about adoption is that you get to choose almost everything about your child -race, developmental issues, drug and alcohol use by the mother, cause of conception - but you cannot choose gender.

Q: Why not?

A: I’ve gotten different answers on this, but the one that seems to be the most honest is that people prefer girls, leaving a glut of unadopted boys. The more political answer I’ve heard is that, since you can’t choose gender in a biological birth, why should adoption be any different. But that seems like more of a justification than an answer to me.

Q: What is “cause of conception”?

A: In the most pleasant terms, a child conceived from nonconsensual sex.

Q: What race will your child be?

A: This is a harder question than it may seem. Unless you’re an explicit bigot (but, at the risk of stereotyping, I don’t believe them to be generally open to adoption as a concept) or have some specific cultural tie to a racial identity, most people feel odd saying that they prefer one race over another, or, more specifically, that they wouldn’t be comfortable with a child of a certain race. But it’s an extremely important question. Of course the liberal in me believes that my Caucasian self and my Caucasian wife would have no difficulty raising an Asian, Latino, or African-American child, but do we have the social structure in place to be able to offer such a child a link to their cultural history? Do we know a diverse enough range of people to be able to offer a perspective other than our own? Will our friends and family be supportive of such a choice? I believe that we can and so we are open to a child of any race.

Q: So, how long will all of this take?

A: The most frequently asked of the frequently asked questions. Basically, I have no idea. The range of possibilities starts with being paired with a pregnant woman who has an expected birth date months away to getting a phone call advising that our child was born this morning and we need to get to the hospital. It’s the waiting and this complete unpredictability that makes this question the hardest to answer with continued civility. So I apologize now to anyone I may snap at for asking this one.

Q: If I know someone making an adoption plan, can I have them contact you?

A: No. But you can provide us with their information, and we can provide it to our agency. There are certain privacy concerns that must be respected in this regard. However, our child can come from anywhere in any state. If our agency doesn’t operate in that state, they’ll connect us with one that does.

Q: Have you prepared the nursery?

A: No. We’ve been advised against doing so given the unpredictability of the process. Having a prepared nursery might seem logical, but, until it’s in use, it’s a constant reminder of the child you do not have.

This is by no means a comprehensive list; it’s barely even a start. I’ll add more as time and thought permits. I welcome other questions and will answer them the best I can.

#23: Everything Everything, "Photoshop Handsome"

One of my favorite out-of-nowhere musical finds from the mid-90s was Chavez, a guitar-heavy, math rock (yes, math rock is a thing; see: Pink Floyd) band whose album, Ride the Fader, still gets play in my iPod. In fact, if I’m taking a run to the dump in my truck (purchase price: two bottles of wine), it’s Chavez that accompanies me for reasons I can not explain but always prove appropriate.

Everything Everything is a Brit math rock band that comes off far less angry about life than Chavez ever did, but the music shares the same atypical rhythm and dissonance typical of the genre. The lyrics are baffling, leaving me with no sense about what this song might actually be about, thereby keeping it low on the list. But, as with deadmau5, “Photoshop Handsome” gets the blood aflowing, and isn’t that half of the point of music?

If you want it, download it here: http://www.billysuede.com/2010/11/11/how-to-be-handsome-without-the-use-of-photoshop/.

Or just watch the video below. Or don’t and simply imagine what it might sound like.

#24: deadmau5 ft. Neon Hitch, "I Can't Behave Myself"

As far as stage names go, deadmau5 (pronounced “dead mouse”) is pretty good work for a Canadian born Joel Zimmerman given that “Brian Adams” was already taken. This track, featuring UK singer Neon Hitch, isn’t particularly indicative of his latest release, 4X4=12, or anything he’s done before, but it’s damn poppy and gets you moving. Dance tracks don’t usually get very far with me, but this has enough going on to start off the list.

Downloadable from here: http://www.aerialnoise.com/2010/12/19/deadmau5-collection/

Or just listen to it below in the video player.