Randy's Notepad

I’m sure that words beyond counting have been written about James Cameron’s Avatar.
My wife and left reality behind and plugged in to it tonight and were transported to the planet Pandora along with a hundred other brave voyagers. We may not have had our own genetically engineered bodies but the visual 3-D link served just as well. We flew through interstellar space, viewed stars and planetary systems from a godlike perspective and shared the intimate experience of being born into a strange and wonderful world and initiated into an inscrutable alien culture.

I am resisting the natural urge to compare the movie to anything I’ve seen before because, quite frankly, I can’t.  It was the most awesome piece of all encompassing entertainment that I have ever experienced. There is not a single adjective that I can use to describe it that would not go shrieking away like one of the flying banshees being chased by a Maktao.

I’m left feeling both awed and unsettled that the state of cinematography has reached the point where it is almost impossible to perceive the point at which reality ends and pure imagination begins. Bravo Mr. Cameron, Cast and Crew of Avatar. You rock.

There are two things that have constantly hindered me from being an effective blogger:
I don’t seem know what to say and I doubt that anybody really gives a flip about what I say anyway.

I think I’ve found a cure for both problems: I’m now writing for myself and for my own pleasure, amusement, and edification and I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. Now that I’ve got that out of my system I’m finally free to explore the craft of writing without any self doubt or hesitancy. I’ve long had Walter Mitty moments about being a famous writer. I don’t know how many times I’ve finished a book and said “I could write one better than that”.. Probably could’ve too if not for an eerie phenomenon. Every time I park myself in front of a typewriter (yes I’m THAT old) or word processor the paper or screen tends to remain achingly blank. Any words that do manage to find their way onto that great white void huddle together in one corner like ragged orphans on a street corner. That’s where it’s always ended – giving up in disgust and going off to play with my ham radio gear or spending hours making horrid plunky noises on the banjo. (Being an engineer, ham radio operator and banjo player has given me unmatched personal skills let me tell you… Just ask Dilbert. And sex appeal?)

About a month ago something magical happened that knocked down all the barriers and changed my outlook on writing forever. Wandering through the audio book section of the Colorado Highlands Ranch Library I happened to pick up a copy of “Airborn” by Kenneth Oppel. Eh?

This Canadian knows how to write. Within minutes of starting to listen, I was fully caught up in the story of the cabin boy Matt Cruise and his love for Airships and flying. Not “Airplanes” mind you but “lighter than air” ships in an alternate world where the airplane has never been invented. The skies are full of majestic rigid airships of the likes of the Graf Zeppelin, the Shenandoah and the Hindenburg, all fitted out with all the luxurious accoutrements that would have made our famous historic ocean liners seem drab in comparison.

I followed Matt through adventure after adventure, learning all about the mighty airship Aurora and it’s crew. I fell in love with the rich and headstrong young Kate De Vries at the same time that Matt did, sharing their search for the mysterious winged creatures that her grandfather had discovered before his tragic death. My adrenalin surged as the Aurora was attacked by pirates, gruff and ferocious men who swarmed down from a menacing black airship through the hatches and captured passengers and crew. But enough of the story. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you if you haven’t had the opportunity to read it.

After I’d finished it I didn’t say “I’ll bet I could write one better than that” but instead, “I’d give anything to be able to write like that!”.  That was the day that I decided that I was going to dust off my torn and faded old dream of being a writer and do whatever it takes to make it happen.

Thanks Kenneth for filling my hopes with hydrium. Some day I’ll see you in the skies.

Randy Reames
Feb. 3, 2010

He’s got the right idea but not quite there yet.
My grandson the ham in training….

This great drawing of a 20’s Flapper adorned the head of an old Tenor banjo that our friend John owns. Cheryl and I cleaned it up for him and put on a new set of strings. Sure would like to know the history behind it.

Cheryl and I started restoring old banjos four or five years ago after finding a banjo-mando at a junk store up in Redstone Colorado. She was the motivating force in fixing up that one after it had rattled around in the back of my truck for a few weeks. She rescued it and started taking it apart, cleaning and polishing parts, and figuring out how it worked. We did some research on Google for info on how to replace a skin banjo head and jumped right in the middle of it. The first one was the worst one. If you’ve never put a calfskin head on a banjo you’ll understand what I mean ONLY after having got the first one under your belt. If you’re working on it with your spouse it will either strengthen your marriage or you’ll be headed for the counseling session.

We decided to focus on restoring instruments that weren’t worth much in the first place. Most of the 5-strings we’ve done where made in the 1880’s to 1930’s and probably didn’t sell for more than $10 brand new. A lot of these are of the no-name variety and it’s been fun doing the research to see if we could find out when they were made and by whom. The biggest thrill is to string one up that we’ve spent hours and hours working on and find out that it’s not only playable but has that special plunky old banjo sound and that it’s probably not had a voice for 50 years or more. Sweet.