Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#30 BIRTHDAY BASH
I’ll sing. WHATEVER I WANT!! (plus my famous Van Halen -Johnny Nash Medley MemoriamMedley)
When: Monday Nite, October 12th 7:30PM EDT (“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -
Who gets 10%: Experimental Aircraft Association Chapter 106 Youth Scholarship Fund Founded in 1992, the Young Eagles program is dedicated to giving youth ages 8–17, an opportunity to go flying in a general aviation airplane. These flights are offered free of charge and are made possible through the generosity of EAA member volunteers.
It’s the only program of its kind, with the sole mission to introduce and inspire kids in the world of aviation.
Today, the Young Eagles program has flown over 2 million kids.
Look here, it’s my birthday, so I’m going airplane on this one. Not feeding anyone directly or honoring families of vets or saving animals, but who knows - for every fighter pilot this program puts out, maybe there is also a kid that grows up to be a civil or airline pilot (I see you, Mark Houck, Rob Buck, H.G. Frautschy) flying supplies and medicine to hungry and suffering folks.
$$$: http://paypal.me/vancevancevance or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17, Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.
Pay or not. It’s up to you. Let’s just stay connected.
This week’s pajamas: sweats and a new sweatshirt you’ll love!
I coach voice, songwriting, performance. Contact me. I have some open spots
Good Good Man - the CD - streaming all platforms, even get it from me…
SPEAKING OF AIRPLANES…
Humor me and the airplane posts. It’s my birthday.
No argument in the world about how my skin is saved because of the great men who fought for my right to have this opinion, etc. etc. will move me to build an active model warplane. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their service. Today is now, and now it’s just that I prefer not to build models of warplanes.
Before you besiege me with letters, note that I have been friends with and I have broken bread with both war-active F-4 Phantom pilots and with Pete Seeger. That about covers it. And I have no problem appreciating great models of such planes.
So we build what we like. We make replicas of history, after all, and it’s not like we’re saying we are in favor of war, the sides it forces us to choose, or that our allegiances should be questioned. Nothing like that. But let me tell you a story from a few years ago.
A whole wide realm of people can show up at my concerts. Some are dyed-in-the-wool-Kumbayah peacenik folk fans that are to the left of Stalin, some are devoutly Right of Reagan conservative folks that just love a good, dark twist of metaphor as part of their song listening diet. And all manner of person in-between. Front row, White guy, close-cut flat top. Arms crossed across his chest/belly, his mouth is in a straight line. He applauded politely, arms going back across his chest, the semi-scowl returning.
I did my Vance concert thing. I asked this fellow: “So, sir, how’d you end up here? With her, right?” She laughs yes, he nods.
“What do you do for a living?”
"I’m retired”, he dryly replies.
“So, you do nothing now but follow that cute lady to house concerts?” The audience laughs.
“Nowadays, yes”, he replies.
“And here you are. Ok, ok, - what did you do before you retired?”
“I was a bomber pilot”.
My legs wobble. I recover.
I don’t drop a beat. “Thanks for your service…By the way, did the BUFF really have induced dihedral measuring 15 feet from taxi to flight under load?”
He finally looks dead on at me. “Indeed it did, Sir”.
The poor remaining folks at the end of this concert got a few CD’s signed, a hello or two, and cursory, distracted handshake greetings from me, but I easily spent another 45 minutes in doorknob conversation with this gentleman.
Roger Coleman is his name.
Went from B-52’s in Vietnam to flight instructor to accident investigator. He was instrumental in clearing an early female T-38 flight instructor posthumously for her crash after a faulty engine fire hazard switch shut down her ship not long after takeoff. The switch malfunctioned due to previous pilots shutting it manually over and over thinking it was a “false alarm”, and subsequently burning out a fuse. He made it clear he was furious at Air Force culture at that time and its narrow-minded scrutiny of Blacks and women. He railed at his beloved Air Force, whose investigative prosecutorial members thought that this woman pilot might have gotten disoriented due to menstruating while flying. He shook his head in disdain while telling me this story. He brightened and smirked as he told me stories of B-52 last shuttle flights to museums and storage facilities being virtually “dry” at touch down from losing fluids during the flight from leaking, disrepair, and age.
Ask him about the B-52 on display at the museum in Dayton? Yeah, he knows it well. It was his ship.
A few days later I get this email, loaded with plane pics and this note:
“Vance, It was great to meet you and enjoy your great talent. You asked what I was thinking as you performed. The answer is that I was sure God has definitely used you as a vessel to spread the word of tolerance and love to your fellow man. You are a great person and spread a great message.”
It’s a curious thing what we choose to hang from our ceilings or pull out of our boxes on the field. We are historians, messengers, artists, teachers, engineers, sportsmen, all in one fell swoop animated skin-sack.
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