Old Toy Trains….
December 27th, 2011
Old toy trains, little toy tracks
Little toy drums coming from a sack
Carried by a man dressed in white and red
Little one, don’t you think it’s time you were in bed
Close your eyes
Listen to the skies
All is calm, all is well
Soon you’ll hear Kris Kringle and his jingle bells…
“It took me twenty years to become an overnight success” ~ R Miller
Roger Miller wrote Old Toy Trains back in1965 for his young son and released it in 1967. The popular children’s singer/songwriter Raffi recorded it back in 1983, and it was a favorite in our house when my brothers and I were small. I love a few of the non traditional Christmas songs because they’re wrapped up in family memories, and I make sure I slip this song in every performance during the Christmas season. It serves as a timeless reminder during the busiest season of the year that I will soon have a break to enjoy some time in the warm house filled with the giant blue spruce, and the fireplace roaring, on the edge of the quiet mountain.
So, in response to those who have asked and waited patiently for me to add another post here, this is the first spare moment I’ve had in a very long time. School is finally out and I have a few days before another gig. Needless to say, my life has been a steady flow of non stop madness as I entered my junior year at Westfield. In addition to playing 1st chair with the Westfield State Wind Symphony and 1st chair with the Westfield State Big Band, I have also continued to play locally throughout Western Ma and have begun to make my way out to Central MA and some of the prestigious clubs in the Boston area.
Though marketing strategies have helped to bring my name to other areas, the greatest strategy is being a consistent performer and reaching out to those in the audience with the right music , and walking away with another contact, and another job. I want to thank everyone who has given me a home or venue to perform in this year, the new friends and fans I’ve met along the way, as well as my supportive old friends, and especially my family who never fails to be the familiar faces in my audience, no matter how tired they are.
I am especially grateful to my Grandpa who has managed to hang on despite a difficult year of illness, and setbacks. You’re a fighter. Rock on.
I would also like to say a special thank you to Wilbraham Country Club who never fails to make me sit down and eat a delicious home cooked dinner whenever I perform there. You’re generosity is warm and comforting in the midst of my chaotic life, and I appreciate it.
To Ron & Linda , you generate more fun in an audience than anyone I know.
To Linc & Janice, I love you both. “Don’t Stop Believing”.
To my mom and dad, thank you for that slice of humble pie, and for always being honest and for encouraging me to surround myself with people who are greater than I am. You know exactly how I work.
Lastly, Thank you to all those who have a left a mark on my career musically You make me strive to be better.
Since Christmas time is steep with traditions for many of us, I have a small story I would like to close with. My Grandpa Lis who was a butcher all his life, ran a small mom and pop store here in town. He retired when I was small, and I grew up on stories of how people came from all around to buy his famous smoked apple wood kielbasa and seasoned roasts. After retirement, he continued to provide for a few special customers and family on the holidays out of a re-constructed smaller version of his store, down in his basement. Though, I remember my dad helping out and grinding for kielbasa season when we were small, I had never actually watched. I had surely never watched him roll a roast, and I always took the delicious “melt in your mouth meat” for granted , as it always made it’s way to our holiday table . We were very little when we learned that the end piece of that meat was something to fight over, and we would stand over the roast like three little vultures waiting for a sliver of the flavorful end.
This year, Grandpa Lis announced he was done; he was too old….too worn out…too tired. My mom begged him to make one last one and show her the “secret” so she could keep his tradition going for our family. He finally relented.
On the day of my last final, I raced home to tag along, anxious to finally learn the family secret. As I watched the 83 year old master at work, so clearly in his element, and working with the ease and grace of a much younger man , I was surprised to realize that his craft was no less of an art form than my own. I was glad I watched. He proved to be a patient teacher as he explained every step to my mom and he made her promise never to reveal the secret.
She cooked the roast on Christmas day; 18 pounds which took almost 5 hours. She fawned over it like never before. My dad laughed at her, telling us she developed a relationship with that piece of meat, and in my heart I know that she did; so did I. It was to be the last roast my grandpa will ever make for our holiday table.
Once again, the years melted away as we stood over the delicious meat, fighting the urge to elbow each other and shriek “me first!” Instead we waited quietly as the end slice slowly dropped onto the platter, and it was divided so we could each taste a sliver of the very tender last “Grandpa Lis roast” To Grandpa Lis, thank you for all the great holiday roasts over the years; long live your secret and your tradition. Cheers! Here’s to hoping my mom paid attention. Merry Christmas!













