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| Max Mullowney, Jazz Passenger |
For the past two months, I got to share some great conversations with my son. I learned quite a bit about the younger generation. At age 19, Max has developed some strong opinions about the world we live in. During our commutes, we discussed subjects from world politics to world music and everything in between. I tried to gauge his political views by tuning my car radio to a radical right-wing republican talk show. I was curious to see my son's reaction to the thought provoking solutions to political problems proposed by the histrionic host. Max was infuriated by some of the things he heard on the broadcast. I egged him on by suggesting he call in to the show to voice his anger, but he wouldn’t take the bait. What I didn’t expect to get from my son was a passionate dialog on world politics. I learned where he stands on the hard hitting issues of today. I even learned a few history lessons in the process. My son educated me on the crisis in the Ukraine, the crisis in the Middle East and the illegal alien influx at our borders. He had a surprising amount of knowledge on subjects I didn’t even think would be on his personal radar.
When I asked where he obtained all this information, my son explained his generation doesn’t get news from standard sources like radio, newspapers or television. They don’t trust mass media outlets who tell listeners what they want to hear. They go outside the box and tune in overseas news stations or grassroots social media web sites that offer news from the street level.
I wasn’t the only one pushing buttons during our captive commutes. I didn’t appreciate my son's snarky tone when he asked, “Dad, what’s it like to be part of the dying newspaper industry?” I told him some people actually preferred reading newspapers instead of reading things illuminated by the harsh artificial light of a cold computer screen. (He didn’t buy it.) I told him not all newspaper readers were “old people”. (He begged to differ.) He pointed out the fact that newspapers can't stay current with breaking news stories. (I begged to differ.) I defended the benefits of reading a physical copy of a newspaper, something tactile you can have and hold in your hand, something you can take anywhere. My heartfelt defense was a tough sell to a tough audience, but it made interesting morning conversation.
Since my son is a professional guitarist and I am a professional music lover, music was a frequent topic of conversation. We analyzed the changes in the almost non-existent music industry. Thanks to my satellite radio, we compared music from the sixties to music of today. When we took a break from the radio, I was exposed to some interesting jazz music. My son played a CD by musicians Charlie Hunter and Scott Amendola. The jazz duo performs cover versions of rock-and-roll songs from The Cars. I still can’t grasp the concept of jazz. It’s way too cerebral for a pop-culture guy like me, but I'm beginning to see the light.
We talked about my son’s future plans after graduation further down the road. He has some lofty goals – and all the resources to achieve them. He realizes his future is in his hands.
Last week I helped Max move back to school. Morning gridlock won’t be the same without him. Sure, I can argue with the radio by myself, much to the entertainment of shocked onlookers in passing cars. I can pass time by singing along with songs on the radio or jotting down cartoon ideas in my handy notebook that sits on the now vacant passenger seat beside me. I can get lost in thought reminiscing about the old days. Mostly I find myself thinking back on the fading summer that came and went so fast. Someday soon, when I look back on the good old days, being stuck in traffic while commuting and conversing with my son will be one of the highlights. These are the things memories are made of.
