Dudelsack.

My last day in Berlin I walked past a record store.

A real record store, with vinyl.

By myself, on my thirty-ninth birthday. I can’t begin to express exactly how much this thrilled me.

I flipped through nearly all the vinyl they had outside. For no good reason, I picked up a couple 45’s: Alice Cooper’s Elected and The Four Seasons’ Beggin’ (or, as we like to call it, Bacon). I also picked this up for CC:

A German/English sound effects record, including background children’s noises for “Children-Scenes”, apparently recorded by a lovely young lady with quite a stereo pair. Because I couldn’t have made any of that up.

They also had CD’s. I went in, and by this time I had given up pretending that I was ever going to speak their language and asked the lady behind the counter in English, “What’s the best German band I’ve never heard of?” She asked me what type of music. She then gave me two CD’s, with a smile that held the universal excitement of turning someone on to music they’ve never heard before, and a very German “You MUST get these!” She let me listen to them but I was already sold.

Can.

From the liner notes for Ege Bamyasi: “Guitarist the late Michael Karoli later complained that the sessions were frustrated by keyboardist Irmin Schmidt and vocalist Damo Suzuki’s playing chess obsessively day in, day out.” As my friend Drew says: It’s like Meddle Pink Floyd did the nasty with Parliament Funkadelic.

In Extremo.

Their liner notes are all in Germish. Here’s all you need to know: Metal, with multiple bagpipe players. Described elsewhere as “Folk/Medieval Metal” (that website also listed Carmina Burana as a lyrical theme. Which is also true.). They have been around since 1995 and I can’t believe something this awesome has existed for so long and it took me sixteen years and a trip out of the country to find it.

I’ve been playing that disc nonstop this week. This is our conversation in the van:

#2: Is this your weird Germish band again?

Me: Yes.

(repeat four more times with the other kids).

This link will take you to view the video on You Tube. I am pretty sure he raises someone from the dead in it. Plus they’re on a boat. And the dude playing the cittern or whatever the hell it is Robert Trujillo-style: brilliant. Again, I say to you: Germans are badass.

Bacon, unchecked.

This better when you know that #5, eight years old, still has a very sweet sounding inability to properly say his r’s, which we are assured he will grow out of any minute now.

October. My father and stepmother (Southern Baptists) are up from Kentucky for a visit. We (Heathens) are having a Sunday family breakfast. CC has cooked an amazing spread. Nobody is paying attention to how much bacon #5 is eating. Before long, there is an empty serving dish next to him; a dish that once held more than a pound of bacon.

He has been staring out the window, looking deep in thought. Still staring out the window, he speaks. He bestows the following upon us, and we are left in a stupefied silence trying to make sense both of what he says and the quanity of bacon he has ingested.

#5: In squirrel church, God is an acorn.

Some days I wish I still drank.

Because of course I have that laying around.

#5 has a note from school that he needs to bring in some “kid-related” magazines, with pictures that he can cut out. A secret second grade project.

Me: What kind of pictures are they supposed to be?

#5: Ummm, things that I like.

“Kid-related” magazines. With pictures of Things That He Likes.

Call me unfit, call me an abomination, call me a commie bastard, but nothing like this exists in my house.

There are seventy-three Victoria’s Secret catalogues that came in the mail over the past two weeks and one from Cheaper Than Dirt Ammo. AOPA Pilot, Live Sound, Colorado Outdoors.

#2 pays for her own subscription to M, evil tween pop culture mag. I suggest this as an option, but #5 is firmly unwilling to bring in pictures of Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers. I try to start a fake argument with him about how he’s being unreasonable but CC is not amused.

The gift subscriptions to National Geographic Kids and to Highlights he loves, but the pictures in them aren’t of things in his top 10 list. He likes candy. He likes video games. He likes to talk.

He likes bacon.

In my defense, we went to the drug store in my town with the best newsstand.

I found:

Parenting magazines, where pictures of candy weren’t allowed and the only video games were of the educational variety.

More pictures of bikini-clad models looking desperately in need of a sandwich than I could count.

Car magazines (no interest). Music magazines (no interest). Baby magazines (I’m not a baby!). The video game magazines all had pics of games way over his head. I was completely striking out.

Me: How about a tattoo magazine, buddy? This one looks pretty cool.

#5: (hard stare, no response).

Me: It’s okay, buddy, I’ll go through the catalogues again when we get home. You want a candy bar?

Candy’s my answer for everything.

I picked up the mail when we got back. It was evening, but the mail was still out because as I have mentioned before, no one in my house but me ever gets the mail, even though you physically come within an inch and a half of the mailbox when you walk in the front door. Mail score! An Oriental Trading Halloween catalogue! No video games, but plenty of candy and creepy, gorey Halloween decorations. #5 was thrilled.

So they did this secret project in class with the pictures. Apparently, they displayed the projects in the hallway at school for a couple of weeks but I was unaware of this because he didn’t tell me and unless otherwise compelled, my interaction at their school only involves me walking them to the end of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic, and nudging them across the street.

Go ahead & judge; I don’t mind.

Done? Okay.

#5 finally brought his project home. He was so proud of it. The teacher had done giant silhouettes of the kids and then they were to cut out the pictures of “the things they liked” and write what their goal was. As in, lifetime goal. Like, what I wanna be when I grow up.

The pictures were supposed to be related to this lifetime dream of achievement.

And I sent my kid in armed with a single Oriental Trading Halloween catalogue.