This is a new tune called "Paraclete." It's posted here at the music site with Quicktime.  Or...   You can download it at Garageband.com. 

Be sure to check whether clogging is allowed at your desk.

It's played in Double-Drop C tuning, capoed on the fourth fret (in E), with a wee bit of mandolin thrown in for good measure.

"Where did you find him, Daddy?"

"Well, there's a story I need to tell you,"  Daddy replies.  "Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes.  I want to hear the story, but where did you find him?"

"Well, as it turns out, Superman went away for a while.  Do you remember where Superman is from?"  I begin.

"He's from Krypton." Noah answers, "But where was he lost to?"

"Superman heard on the news that some scientists found pieces of the Planet Krypton out in space and he wanted to fly back there to see if anything was left.  There wasn't much there so he came back to earth.  That's where he went."

"Yes, Daddy, but where was he lost to?"

"I told you, he went away for a few days, but now Superman has returned."

Keep in mind that Noah has yet to see the recent Superman movie.  He has been intrigued enough by the movie trailers and the old 1940s cartoon version I bought for him.  It's at this point that he begins to get frustrated and Mommy, the literature professor, chimes in."

"Tim, tell Noah where you found him.  He wants to know.  You're frustrating him."

"Yes, Daddy, you're frustrating me.  Tell me where Superman was lost."

"I told both of you guys, he left for a few days, went back to his homeland in Krypton and now he's returned."

Noah begins to get visibly frustrated and Karen shoots me the "wife look."  I have to make a decision, do I stand my ground for the power of myth and imagination or do I give into the godless rationalists, the good-looking one giving me the evil eye and the the other burgeoning one rooting around on the floor with his Superman doll.

I look at my wife and whisper, "He's only four.  I'm not giving in this quickly."

"Yes," she whispers back, "but he is the one making the distinction between your story and what really happened.  He's accepted your story, now he wants the truth.  Are you going to deny him?"

"I told you guys the truth!" winking at Karen, knowing full well I mean the mythological truth of the Superman saga.

"Perhaps," the good-looking evil rationalist replies, "you told him the truth, but Noah would now like the facts."

"Yes, Daddy!  Give me the facts.  I want the facts."

I pause.  I look at him, then at her.  Noah, I believe for the first time ever, senses an epistemological alliance with his mother.  I think about it.  They stare me down.

"Alright, Noah," I ask under duress, "Is this toy the real Superman?"

"No Daddy, he's a pretend Superman."

"That's right.  The real Superman did indeed leave earth for a while to visit the Planet Krypton and then he came back.  That is true.  This Superman, which is only pretend (long pause) was behind that pillow on the chair."

Mommy and Noah cheer as if they have won the war.

But Daddy retorts, "And that pillow right there?  You see it?  Guess what the name of that pillow is?"

Mommy rolls her eyes and says, "The Planet Krypton?"

"Exactly."

Karen and Noah are leaving for ten days.  They are heading down to Baton Rouge to be pampered by her folks.

My anxiety goes up when I'm away from Noah.  And I am away from him a great deal.  I don't want to screw this parenting thing up.  I'm new to it, so I'm always trying to gage what is okay and such.  I think absence is a good thing.  It allows us to get some perspective on our relationships.  Karen and I have always had some time apart, nearly every year, in our fourteen years of marriage.  It always helps us reaffirm the value of our friendship.  I'm quite sure Noah doesn't re-evaluate his relationship to me when he's away.  I hope not, that would mean he ended up as weird as I am, and I'm hoping for something a little less intense in him, or perhaps a different intensity.

I've watched people incorporate cell phones into their lives, adults and teenagers alike.  Some of it is comical.  I walked down an airport corridor as this twenty something woman I was with talked to her friend back home every few gates or so, updating her as to her status since the last they talked a few minutes previous.  I chuckled and told her it wasn't a phone she was using, it was a walkie-talkie.  I shouldn't have said that, she asked me what a "walkie-talkie" was.  God!  When did I get that old?

Kahlil Gibran has this famous poem used in marriage ceremonies about the two in marriage like strings on a lute.  Played together, with intention, it makes a beautiful sound.  But strings still have a sound of their own.  We have our separate ways to find.  Having some mystery in our relationships allows us to develop a sense of the self.   The only way we can prevent ourselves from doing un-needed damage to each other is if we can get some healthy perspective on ourselves.  Step away from the painting for a while.  I think maybe I'm getting tripped up in too many metaphors.

On these trips away, I usually let the house go.  I'll root around, leave dishes out, drop clothes on the floor and then, the day before Karen returns get the house in tip-top shape.  I think this time, I will try to do the opposite, keep up the house.  I may even get to a few honey-dos.  The "just-Tim" me reflecting productively on the "Tim-Karen-Noah" me that is kickin' it back in Baton Rouge.