Author Archives: brad

Today I am thankful for Superficial Charm.

Superficial Charm is the name of a band I started in 2008.

We’ve gone through many iterations and variations and lineup changes, but one thing has remained the same: it’s a lot of fun.

We’re currently a three piece, consisting of my friend Tom on bass, my friend Jerry on drums, and me on guitar. Although I originally started Superficial Charm with the goal of having a place to perform some of my original songs, we’ve since evolved into a cover band. Typical covers include songs by bands such INXS, U2, Green Day, Weezer, and even The Bangles and Talking Heads.

Our rehearsals are, for me at least, much more than a chance to work on some music. It’s therapy for me, a chance to blow off some steam and just forget about life for a couple hours.

And we do need to schedule some shows, so if you happen to need the third greatest cover band in Lancaster County, hit me up.

I am thankful for Superficial Charm.

Today I am thankful for Bobby.

Bobby is our son that didn’t make it. He would be going on twelve years old had he made it.

October 31, 2000, was the worst day of my life. It started like any other, but around mid-morning I got a call from Jen saying that she didn’t feel right. She was pregnant at the time, so of course I was concerned. I left work and we ended up at the hospital for an emergency ultrasound.

I’ll never forget the look on the doctor’s face when she told us that our baby was no longer alive. It’s not something you’re ever prepared for. I mean, who ever expects something like that to happen?

Of course, it does happen, and as we’ve learned since, it happens a lot more than most people would guess. It’s amazing how many tragedies people have in common. We could all take such comfort in one another if we just opened up and let other know what was going on.

We named him Robert in honor of my grandfather. But we call him Bobby.

I would never have chosen to go through losing my son, and even looking back on all that I’ve learned from that loss, I know that I still wouldn’t choose it. But sometimes life has other plans, and for us, that included foster kids and eventually Jonathan.

I am thankful for Bobby.

Today I am thankful for my guitars.

I hope this doesn’t come across as superficial, but I am truly thankful for my guitars. Not just for the ability and opportunity to play them, but for the the specific instruments that I currently own. I’ve gone through a lot of guitars over the years, buying and selling, including guitars from Rickenbacker, Parkwood, Harmony, Alvarez, and at my lowest point, Montana and RokAxe.

But my current lineup is pretty sweet, I gotta say.

First up is my pride and joy: my Martin DCPA4. This is my most recent purchase and will likely be my last for a while. But this thing is nice. I had been playing an Alvarez White Fusion for well over a decade as my primary acoustic/electric, but it was wearing out, and I wasn’t sure it was worth investing in getting it fixed up (full disclosure: I still have the Alvarez, and it’s great for around campfires). So I was in the market for a nice upgrade. I would have absolutely considered a high end Alvarez, something from their hand made line, if anyone around here carried them. But no such luck. So my choices were Gibson, Taylor, and Martin. Gibson was straight out: as much as I’d love a Hummingbird, there’s no way I could justify spending more than $2000 on a guitar. I’d be afraid to play it. Besides, I doubt that I play any better than, say, $700 worth. So Jen and I went to Guitar Center, determined to decide between Taylor and Martin.

In the end, there was no contest at all. At all. Taylors are great, and I know that lots of people prefer them, but they just sound too bright for me, almost tinny. But the Martin… oh my word. Gorgeous dark tone that perfectly matched the way I play the acoustic. I knew right away, and Jen smiled knowingly. The Martin was a clear winner. I’ve played this guitar at church nearly every week since I got it, as well as at several gigs and open mics. Never lets me down. And there’s something very cool about playing a guitar hand made in your own state by a company that’s been around since the 1840s.

Next up is my workhouse of an electric: my hollow body walnut Gretsch Electromatic 5120. I had been jonesing for a Gretsch for a long time. Especially after selling my semi-hollow Rickenbacker 330/6, I knew I wanted an electric with some resonance to it. I had my eye on the orange model for a couple reasons. First, orange is my favorite color. Second, Brian Setzer. I mean, come on.

I had been saving up cash from writing reviews for a programming magazine and squirreling away the money in a safe place. Once I had a good chunk of change saved up, I headed to Guitar Center again, with my son and one of the kids from church, figuring I’d only have enough to buy an Epiphone Dot or something like that. But it was a holiday, and that means a sale, and I walked out with the Gretsch and a hard case for way less than I ever could have guessed. The only downside was that they didn’t have orange or even black in stock. So if I wanted one that day, it was walnut or nothing. I chose walnut. Jen was thoroughly confused when I came home with a brand new guitar; she hadn’t known about the money I’d been saving up. But once she saw it, and once she heard it through my Peavey Classic 30, she approved.

Finally, there’s my little Danelectro ’59 (it’s actually a 2010 re-issue of their 1959 model). I got this on clearance at Guitar Center for $200, and I have to say: it is way more guitar than one could reasonably expect for that money. The sound it kicks out is incredibly hot, and the tone is wonderfully bitey. It even has really good action, especially for the money. Plus, its visual appeal is undeniable with its kitschy 50s vibe.

I am thankful for my guitars.

Today I am thankful for my home.

We were not looking for a new home in 2008. It just kind of happened.

We were entering the final stages of the adoption process with Jonathan, and we were confident that nothing was going to fall through.

Which led us, naturally, to another problem. Our house at the time was just big enough for the four of us, but sharing one bathroom among two adults, one preteen girl, and one boy with special needs would soon become a problem. That much was obvious. So we got a few estimates for doing an addition to the house, and we were just about to commit.

One Sunday, out of the blue, Jen suggested we go to an open house. It was in Penn Manor, where we wanted to be, and it was a nice big house out in the country.

Correction: it was a big ugly house out in the country.

But there were horses that came right up to the fence out back, and there was a garage that I knew would make a good studio, and there was a master bedroom with its very own bathroom, and there was another bathroom and a powder room, and there was a great big yard for the kids to play in.

So we bit the bullet and bought the house.

It’s not ornate or fancy, but we don’t need ornate or fancy. It’s a good solid house.

I am thankful for my home.

Today I am thankful for our foster kids.

We had a total of six, Jonathan being the last, and the the only one to stay permanently.

The first three were in and out so quickly that it was a whirlwind. And we never really got to know them.

Number four was two days old when she same to us, and she stayed for five and a half months. Number five stayed even longer.

It hurts to think about those last two, because I felt like we had so much more to give them and learn about them.

But I’m thankful that I had them in my life at all, and that we got a chance to open our home to kids that needed it, and that we got to teach Grace maybe a little a something about service.

And I’m thankful that the path led us to Jonathan.

I am thankful for our foster kids.

Today I am thankful for my pets.

September 11, 2001, is a day that I will never forget. Aside from the obvious reason, it’s also the day we brought our dog Jack home from the Humane League. I had taken off from work for the morning so that I could go with Jen and Grace to pick him up (we had chosen him the prior Saturday), but with the attacks, I ended up taking off the whole day. We took him home and gave him a much needed bath, but not before he tried to run away for the first of countless times.

Despite his (now dormant) tendencies to attempt to escape, I’m very fond of Jack. He provides us with nearly endless entertainment and companionship, he warns us of intruders, even if they’re just other family members returning home, and he keeps my feet warm at night.

And then there was his act of valor. Grace would be be furious with me if I didn’t mention it. One night, in our old house, Jack repeatedly kept waking up and barking hysterically. He seemed to be beckoning us to follow him, like he had found Timmy down in the well or something, so eventually, tired of being awakened over and over, we followed him. He led us down to the basement, to the unfinished part where the gas furnace stood. Every few minutes, the furnace was belching flames into the open air. Not just a spark, but dragon-like bursts of fire. We immediately shut it down and when the repairmen came to replace it, they said we were lucky it hadn’t exploded. Because of that, Jack gets a free pass on all sorts of antisocial behavior.

He is not, however, as antisocial as my cats.

The older cat, Jill, came to us at church one Sunday morning. A member of our congregation had brought in a litter of kittens from the outdoor cats that hung around his home in the hopes of finding new homes for them. Despite my allergies and Grace’s allergies, she and Jen somehow convinced me to allow this cat to come home with us. I gave them two conditions. First, since the dog’s name is Jack, the cat must be named Jill, Diane, or Beanstalk. Second, I will not change the kitty litter.

Nobody seems to remember the second condition except for me.

Jill is a very pretty cat, and she can be quite loving. Too loving, sometimes, bordering on creepy. Her relationship with me is unhealthily codependent. There are times when she won’t let anyone but me touch her. She can bite one of the kids, and then turn to me, purring and making eyes at me. Very creepy. But when she’s in a good mood, she can be very friendly. The good moods just don’t happen very often.

The younger cat, Maddie, just showed up one day. My kids were outside with the neighbor kids and Maddie just wandered up. The neighbor kids’ dad stood stronger than I did, and Maddie ended up in our home. Part time, at least. She wants to spend most of her time outside, only stopping in occasionally for a meal, to crash on the couch for a bit, to use the litterbox, and maybe check her mail or something.

It’s a struggle to keep Maddie inside. She has actually hidden under the dog and snuck outside when we let Jack out. Many is the morning I open the sliding door to find Maddie waiting to come inside, having been who knows where all night. I know that lots of cats do things like that, but I worry about her getting stuck somewhere or picking a fight with the wrong wild animal, because I’m a softy like that. But as Jen likes to say, “You can’t take the wild out of a stray.”

So that’s our menagerie as it currently stands. The children have been informed that if they want any more pets, it’s a “one in, one out” arrangement from here on out.

But despite their quirks and, in Jill’s case, stalker-ish tendencies, it’s always nice to have another creature in the house that we can share our love with.

I am thankful for my pets.