For Unto (half of) Us, A Child Is Born!

So, in the last round of gigs, Michael met me in Chicago, and we played a really fun concert for the folks at Concordia University, thereabouts. (Note to self: you can always get a bigger crowd when your concert is held on Parents' Weekend. Kind of a captive audience.)

Following that, I took Michael to the airport so he could go home early. (The reason for that will be clear in a moment.) The next two nights, I played our portion of the gigs with our pals Agape' and Rachel Kurtz. There were really fun (for me), but I don't think I'd want to make a habit of it. In other words, don't be looking for any solo career out of this piano player. Maybe at some point (if I figure out the technology) I'll post some mp3's from those unusual gigs.

But on to more important matters . . .

So, on September 18th, Geneva Layne Bridges was born at home in Los Angeles. There are stats about length and weight, but really, what do those mean when you think about it, right?

The important thing is that she was born healthy, and the parents are filled with nothing but joy.







And those pictures are worth 2,000 words, if I remember my cliche's correctly. Thus, this is the longest and happiest blog posting you're going to be getting out of this erstwhile blogger!

later,

george

It Is HERE!!!

Okay, we couldn't resist. With all the possibilities, calling our new album "HERE" seemed the right thing to do.

However, it also seems an appropriate name for reasons beyond the ever-expanding opportunities for humor.

HERE was recorded before and after concerts while on tour over the course of a few weekends. That meant, prior to playing a concert, we would set up my laptop, fire up the Protools, and lay down as many tracks as we could each night.

The result is not the smoothest-sounding recording we've ever had. (See if that thought doesn't scare you away!) On the contrary, the sound of HERE is just what it is. And in this virtual-world way of doing things, where I write to you on my computer and then post it on a server somewhere in . . . well, who knows where?. . . an opportunity to focus on HERE is perhaps just a little bit subversive in some ways.

Moreover, in this world of auto-tune, professional studio musicians, professional songwriting teams, and lip-syncing, I like to think there's something to be said for going back to recording like Jackson Brown might.

So, like I say, it's a bit more raw than the other albums you will hear this year, but HERE is actually here. It's us; no smoke and mirrors and studio tricks. If you are familiar with our previous albums, you'll know that we've never put much money and effort into the perfect recording. Our emphasis from the beginning has been on the live concert, where the people are. In a sense, if you are HERE, and we are HERE, then we're exactly where we want to be.

Check out the new album, and come see us on tour when we're in your area.

Wherever you are, it's always HERE, right?

george

Later that same year . . .

So, guess what? We didn't fall off the edge of the earth, that's what! Isn't that cool? Yeah, we thought you'd think so.

However, what has been happening in the past few months seems to have been taking a whole lot of Lost And Found's time. Let's see, from where we left off, it was April, I believe. Half the band had become married, and half the band preached a sermon, and the whole band enjoyed themselves so much that they forgot to update this blog thing for months on end. Since it would be overwhelming to try and tell you everything that happened, I will just blaze through and give you the basic overview . . .

After the wedding, Jesus rose from the dead. Then we played Saginaw, Chelsea, and South Haven Michigan, then Plano Texas (not too fancy, mind you). In May, we played Ann Arbor, I was honored as a "Distinguished Alumnus" by my Alma Mater (I'm guessing they're going in alphabetical order), we played Excelsior and St. Paul Minnesota, and Little Rock, Arkansas. A Few days later, I graduated from school. They gave me a diploma in Latin. It looks really nice, but I can't read it. Apparently one of the courses I should have taken was Latin.



Then we played in St Louis, and called May finished.

The next month turned out to be June, so we headed off to the appropriate gigs. First up was Ft. Wayne Indiana, followed by St. Joseph Michigan. Then I drove the first round of stuff from our apartment to our new duplex in Ohio and unloaded same. Had my own ontological change ceremony. Then we played in Florence Alabama, then Bellevue, Chagrin Falls, Westerville and Groveport, which are all in Ohio. From there, Cowen West Virginia. Then my wife and I went to see Waiting for Godot. With June coming to an end, I rented yet another truck, my family and friends helped us load our final possessions into said truck, and we headed west, into the Ohio sunset.

Which meant, it was July. Within an hour of arriving at our new house, the cat died. This is what is called an inauspicious start. Then with boxes piled high in our home, I headed off on tour. We played the July gigs, which were Washington DC, Wichita (kin about), and Knoxville. Then Michael represented at a party in honor of our old pal Tic, and I unpacked a box or two. Then we spent a few excellent days in New Orleans, and drove to Lamoni, Iowa. From there, we drove to Minneapolis and flew home, where I played at a wedding, Michael performed one, and Troy did as well. It was Wacky Wedding Weekend!

Then came August. After a week at camp with my family, I flew to Colorado, where Michael met me and we played Estes Park, Loveland, and Littleton. From there we went to Minneapolis, where we took Troy out for a lovely dinner in honor of his 10 years with us. Then we had a swing through Nebraska, playing Lincoln, Norfolk, and Grand Island. Then I flew home, and Michael golfed his way to Minneapolis. We met up in Albany, where we played at THE First Lutheran Church in North America. Yeah, I know! Then we had a week off, until we zipped over (or down) to Texas to play in Flower Mound, and flew back home.

And you know what that meant? Of course . . . September.

So, see, it isn't that much to cover when all you do is list the places, right? I'm hoping to get more consistent with updating, now that the move is finished and the cat has been replaced. (Of course, there is no replacing Manny, I'm just saying.)

A few notes of housekeeping:

1) We have no created an actual profile on Facebook, since the groups and fan page stuff seems like too much work. Thus, if you want to befriend us, search for LostAnd Found. (It had to be written that way, since Facebook is all clever and stuff.)

2) We're well into booking dates in the Spring of 2010 in earnest. (Which sounds like the name of a town in Texas.) So, if you've been thinking about contacting us, now is the time. You can write to us at lafbooking@aol.com, or call us at 419.897-9792.

3) We have been recording tracks for a new album before and after concerts for the last month. It makes for some chaotic pre-concert racing around, but just this afternoon I laid down one piano solo on a song, meaning all the tracks are now recorded. The new album will be HERE sometime this month. Details can be found at the website, once we have some details. Meantime, I've got some mixing to do.

4) We trust that you are rocking on.

george

the best wedding ever

George Baum
4/4/2009
The Wedding of Michael and Lalanya
Colossians 3:14-16
Matthew 5:13-15

As I’m sure you all know, Michael spent much of the past two years working on the campaign to elect Barack Obama. 22 months of volunteering. Maybe because Michael believed in that message of hope. Maybe, just . . . because. Along the way, he met lots of interesting people. Among those people was Joe Biden. I once saw a fantastic photograph of Michael shaking Joe Biden’s hand, and Lalanya is in the background, having just been introduced to the future vice president. The shocked look on Lalanya’s face in that picture tells the story.

When Michael introduced Lalanya to Joe Biden, the Senator’s first words were, “Holy Mackerel! Look at those eyes!” It seems Lalanya never heard anything else he said, because she spent the rest of the night asking people, “Who says Holy Mackerel? I mean, what kind of person says ‘Holy Mackerel’?” She had just met Joe Biden, the future vice president of the United States of America, who paid her quite a compliment, but the distracting thing—the thing that really gets your attention—is, “what kind of person says ‘Holy Mackerel’?”

This afternoon, Michael and Lalanya will look into one another’s eyes and say, “I do.” (Holy Matrimony.) They will stand here, surrounded by all of us, promising to remain faithful to one another, to support one another, to live out their lives as husband and wife. Two people promising to swim against the tide of our culture of separation and divorce, daring to make a go of this thing we call “marriage.” And, if we’re honest, we are all secretly asking ourselves, “Holy Matrimony? What kind of person says ‘Holy Matrimony’?” What kind of people gather together their friends and family and say, “We commit ourselves and our lives to one another?”

Oh, sure, we know the kind of person who races off to Vegas, and gets divorced 48 hours later. And we’re familiar with marriages of convenience, or passion, or youthful indiscretion. And on the other end, we’re familiar with people who choose not to buy into the system of marriage, because it is outdated. Or those who cannot get married, because they happen to fall in love with the “wrong” type of person, or don’t live in Iowa . . . of all places!

But the question is this: who gets everyone together for a big party and actually means it? What kind of person looks into the eyes of their beloved, and says, “Holy Matrimony?” . . . What kind of person does that?

The kind of person who has hope. A promise to remain together until the end has to be rooted in hope. Real hope. Because statistically, it doesn’t make sense. To sit down and reason it out, nobody would ever get married. To do what we are gathered here to do this day requires hope. And the only reason we can have hope is because we trust that this is all going to be all right. Somehow, this is going to work out. We mark this day with a joyous celebration, because—as we heard in the reading from Matthew—a light is shining in the darkness. Because you are living out God’s promise, and you are the light of the world. You are a city built on a hill. Let your light so shine, and let the strings so play, and let the food and drink so flow, that everyone will know that today is different. We mark this day, dedicated to hope for the future.

Now obviously, every day will not be like this. Even here in southern California, a little rain must fall. Michael and Lalanya will change over time. Their relationship will change. These two know that they won’t be eating every meal here at the arboretum in fancy clothes. Hope can only take you so far. There will be hard times, when their spines get all “out of joint.” Times when they will view one another as a pain in the neck. And as Lalanya well knows, adjustment is what will put things back in place. Adjustment is like forgiveness. Putting things back in right relationship. What Lalanya does with her training and her hands, God does with relationships. Restoring to wholeness. We can dare to hope that things will work out because we dare to trust that there is restoration and forgiveness.

We, as people, are built for relationships. And our relationships are built on love. When we make our feeble promises of fidelity and forever, we are promising to try to love like God loves. Forever. Our strongest love for one another is a reflection of God’s unending love for us. A love that knows no limit, respects no boundaries, and stops at nothing to reclaim this world. God loves you—no matter what. God loves you, whether you promise and fail . . . or fail ever to promise at all.

That’s the kind of love we all look for in our partners. Unconditional. Forever. Not merely to be loved, but to be fully and completely known . . . and yet, somehow, still be loved.
God calls all of us into committed relationships, knowing full well that our brokenness may break those bonds. God lights the fire of love in us, again and again, regardless of the result. God is not jaded by failure. God does not listen to common sense. God does not give up on anyone, ever. God has lit, is lighting, and will continue to light the lamp of love in your heart. You are the light of the world.

But that is impossible for us to believe. Common sense and sanity tell us to give up. We’re tired of the pain, and the heartache, and things not working out. Get out the bushel basket and put out the light . . . .

But today, in Lalanya and Michael we see a different message. Today they stand before us, promising to seek a different result. A better world. A brighter light. They are announcing their intention to throw off the bushel basket. They promise to live in love, for better or worse. They promise to stay together, in rich times and poor. Rooted in hope; committed to adjustment.
So, will this time be different? Will this marriage hold as long as they both shall live? We hope so. They hope so! And we all go forward in that hope.

But no matter what happens in 10, 20, or 100 years, it’s really going to be all right.
Because of what God has already done, we can face the future with hope that things are going to be different. As Julian of Norwich says, all things shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. Love is God’s insane plan of hope for our jaded, broken world. And along this journey, God embraces each of us; God embraces every relationship built on love.

And because of that embrace, Michael and Lalanya reach out today to embrace one another in a new way. And that sacred embrace is just the kind of thing that can make a person say, “Holy Mackerel!”

I think we're in Kansas, Toto.

So, this entry will take you back a bit. The whole idea of going to a blog as opposed to a monthly newsletter was so that I wouldn't fall behind. But, now that we've sprung ahead into spring, I will catch you up on the doings of us. Um, the doings of we? Who knows? It's so hard to pick your pronouns when you're matching them up with colloquial phrases that don't really make for good sentence structure, don't we think?

Back to Kansas . . . home of the band, of the same name. Michael flew in a day early and drove a million miles from Detroit to pick me up in Kansas City. Once he got me, it was just another 5,000 miles out to Sterling, where we were pleased to have been invited back to play at the aptly named, Sleepless in Sterling event. Before we get there, in case you have never been to Kansas, I felt I should give you a few photos to give you a sense of it:



As you can see, Kansas is the place where they grow the fabric that brown suits and blankets are made from.




And, Michael and I finally have photographic evidence that the grass really is greener on the other side of the fence.



And then, we arrived in Sterling.



I don't know what they mean by POE at this motel, but I'm hoping it's not this guy. Cause, after all, he's scrary. AND, he's been dead for a long time.

Anyway, there at Sleepless in Sterling, they asked that we do a lot more than play music, and we happily delivered a series of talks, or led the small groups, or both actually. I had ample opportunity to display my artistic talents, as you can see in my rendering of the Kingdom of God.



AND, we found that the building we were playing in was dedicated to an important member of the community. Now maybe it's how I framed the photo, but that last qualification doesn't really seem like it belongs in a plaque at a Christian College.



Anyway, we had a great weekend and, when it was over on Sunday, we drove approximately 3,000 miles back to Minneapolis, so that we could fly out in the morning, which we did.

From there, I had a bizarre set of flights that took me through Chicago, Cleveland, and Philadelphia on my way home. But it was worth it, since I made it over another hurdle.

Now, ordinarily, the post would end there. However, being all far behind like this, we press on. The next weekend, Michael and I flew to Minneapolis, got the van, and drove eastward into Wisconsin. In case you have never been to Wisconsin, since I didn't get any photos, I will provide with a visual here.

Saturday night, we played in Mosinee, which i think comes from the French phrase meaning "my friend." Played in the local high school there, and had a great time. The local worship band from the next morning played a set before ours, and they were quite awesome. The next morning, we played some songs during worship in Steven's Point (advantage Steven) at the local college ministry chapel, which is where the local worship band from the night before plays. Would have been nice to stick around, but we had some high tailing to do to get to the evening's concert, which was in a brand new Lutheran High School in Hartland, Wisconsin. Though they spell the word "heart" incorrectly in their town name, they have built one beautiful High School.

After that concert, we headed over to a hotel near the Milwaukee airport. In the morning we flew home, and that was the end of that short weekend.

Though I could continue, the next weekend deserves its own post, so I am going to stop for now and make you wonder, "Huh?"

Back in Ohio Again (All the doors I closed one time will open up again)

It's music week around here because . . . well, because I decided it was. No pictures, just lots of interesting musical links. (Facebook readers are advised to go here, for full visual stimulation.)

So, we were able to leave our homes fairly late, in the scheme of things, and fly back to Detroit, where you may recall I left the van. After finding same, we headed off south and east, passing over that new bridge in Toledo, past the town where I got married, then off toward roller coaster heaven. (Which is where roller coasters go when they die, I guess.)

Arrived at the secret location for the youth gathering, and had the second of two consecutive Lutheran middle school events. Again with the pirate theme, again with the Bob Lenz speaker, and again with the great time had by all. It was deja vu all over again, except a lot bigger than the first time.

Met some very interesting people, many of whom will be my new neighbors in just a few months. But no time to stick around being neighborly. because we had to race on over to Jackson, MI for a concert. We were relieved to find out that the MI stand for Michigan and not Mississippi. Not that we've got anything against the Magnolia State, it's just that we would have missed the concert.

Got to Jackson about an hour before the concert, so it was a race to set up. Had a good workout carrying stuff up the ramps, but we were all set up about 15 minutes before the opening chord, so it was no problem. It was a beautiful church, right downtown, and the mosaics were all done by a previous pastor. Wish we'd had time to stick around and get some photos and stuff, but we had to race off right away to make some flights out of Detroit.

I dropped Michael off, parked the van, and we both made our flights home. A simple weekend, came to an end, with nary a hitch. Next weekend, however, will be filled with challenges. But meantime, I've got to go to class. Rock on, people who read blogs.

St. Louis and Ohio

I begin with my usual disclaimer to Facebook readers that the blog looks better here. I'm just saying.

So on Thursday, we headed for St. Louis. Well, technically, Michael left on Wednesday night, but he arrived on Thursday, same as me. Or, I guess I mean same as I. Or, based on what the flight attendants say, I think I mean, "Michael arrived on Thursday, the same as on behalf of myself."

That afternoon, we played for a large group of area Lutheran students, that being National Lutheran Schools week. (Who knew, right?) I don't know that we were much help in "securing each student's future," but we were happy to play our songs for them, and they seemed to tolerate us just fine. Later that night, we played a concert in the same room, and some long-time friends from Spec and elsewhere.

The next morning, we headed off for parts east, driving across the On-Behalf-of-Myself states (Illinois and Indiana) and arriving in southwest Ohio. We were actually headed for Mason, which is Cincinnati adjacent. Continuing with our Lutheran theme, we were there to play for a Lutheran youth gathering, which we did. We were psyched to find that the speaker for the weekend was none other than our long-time pal, Bob Lenz. Had a great time, celebrating the pirate theme, but i never have been able to get the hang of those pirate eyepatch things.



Sunday afternoon, we raced off to the east, looking for a place called Crooksville, Ohio. Since we got to town early, we decided to make a stop at the National Ceramic Museum, which we saw in our Atlas, and which was right on our way to Crooksville. We realize that neither of us is exactly a big fan of ceramics, but, you know, it would be interesting just to see what kind of stuff one finds at the National Ceramic Museum. We figured there would be gift shop, and all sorts of interesting things.

We were surprised to find so much parking available.



We thought the entrance seemed a litte unkempt. But, hey, these are artists, not landscapers.



We wondered about the orange pieces of paper that were stuck in the door.



Perhaps some kind of brochure? An explanation of the displays currently on exhibit?





Um, so . . . It seems maybe the National Ceramic Museum isn't exactly operational just now. Possibly, if you're a fan of ceramics, you can help them out.

Anyway, we went on to the town of Crooksville, where we were playing. When we got to the church, we were a little concerned to see this sign out front, given that we were playing there in March.



Turned out, we had the wrong church. Our spirits lifted when we found the right Methodist church, where we found people instead of birds that had expired standing up, like this one at the ironically named "New Hope."



As I say, the real concert location was much nicer, and the hosts were fantastic. Had a good concert, but then had to race on north and west to the Toledo area, where we slept briefly in a hotel, before heading north to the Detroit Airport, where I dropped off Michael, parked the van, and then returned to the airport for my own flight home.

On behalf of myself, here ends the missive,