Music is my way of keeping my brain from turning to mush

If you read books and articles about longevity and the ways in which you're supposed to take care of yourself as you get older, you will inevitably come across the admonition to challenge your mind continually.

Whether it's learning a new language, taking a class, or just doing difficult crossword puzzles every day, the idea is that your brain is like a muscle. And as with any muscle, it must be constantly worked or else it will eventually lose functionality.

I would argue my brain has already atrophied somewhat, but my weapon of choice in the fight against cognitive decline is the tenor saxophone.

As I've mentioned before, I take weekly private lessons from a marvelous sax player and teacher named Ed Michaels. Ed is a talented musician and educator, and just an all-around good guy. I get excited for Mondays at 5:30pm, which is when I get the Google Duo notification indicating that Ed is calling and it's time for our virtual lesson.

These lessons, and my subsequent practice sessions throughout the week, are not easy. Nor would I want them to be.

Ed throws a lot at me, but he does it with a smile and always with the encouragement that he's doing it because I'm "an A-plus student." Whether he's just saying that to make me feel good or he really means it, it doesn't matter. It always inspires me to work harder.

And hard work it is, as I've never formally learned, for example, chord structures. Seventh chords are the foundation of jazz improvisation, so I spend a lot of time playing outlines and scales around major seventh, dominant seventh, minor seventh, half-diminished, and diminished 7th chords.

These are, as Ed calls them, "The Big Five." And the sound, feel, and sax fingerings for them do not come naturally to me. Thus, I have to drill myself continually.

I'm getting there. I'm no Charlie Parker, nor will I ever be, but slowly, I'm getting closer to playing like Bird than I ever have.

It's not only fun, it's also making my mind work hard, which is largely why I do it.

Forty years from now, when I'm a drooling mess and about to keel over, my goal is be able to play the best solo on "Autumn Leaves" you'll ever want to hear.

I almost can't wait.

Routine, tradition and the Mayberry Experience

Sometime earlier this month − we're not sure of the exact date − my mom celebrated 50 years of living in the same house. That's a long time. Long enough, in fact, that she's on her 10th U.S. president since she and her family carted all of their stuff through the front door for what would turn out to be a multi-decade stay.

This is not, you understand, at all uncommon in Wickliffe, Ohio, the city where I grew up and where I still live. People move here and they stay here. It's a nice community. Different than it used to be in many ways, but still a very nice community.

Quite often you read obituaries of people who have passed away at 80 or 90 years of age and are characterized as "a lifelong resident of Wickliffe." More often than not, these people have a vowel at the end of their last name denoting Italian or Eastern European ancestry. Mine is one of the few WASP families allowed to live here. (I kid, I kid!)

Not that everyone stays in Wickliffe, of course, but real estate agents will tell you they're always stunned by the number of people who move away from our town in their 20s and decide to move back in their 30s or 40s. And even if they don't actually live here, they still hang out with childhood friends in what used to be called The Geranium City. I have no idea why they called it that, since I never noticed an overabundance of geraniums. But I guess you have to be known for something.

Speaking of which, we do have a few somethings for which to be known. One is that Wickliffe is the hometown of Jayne Kennedy, a former host of CBS' "NFL Today" program, Miss Ohio winner in 1970, and a Miss USA semifinalist that same year. We also lay claim to Terry Mulroy, a writer and producer on such TV shows as "The Drew Carey Show" and "According to Jim."

But for the most part, we're a pretty standard, blue-collar, Northeast Ohio community. We have about as many bars as churches, and eight more parks than grocery stores (eight parks, zero grocery stores). Good people live here.

I often wonder whether it has been a good idea for me to spend my whole life in the same city. There's a lot to be said for the sense of love and loyalty I feel for good old Wickburg, but there's also the very real possibility that my perspective is unnecessarily limited by living 43 years in the same four square miles.

I have traveled, of course. Used to do it quite a bit when I worked for a public relations agency. I've set foot in six other countries and have visited something like 35 of the 50 states. So it's not like I never stray from the 44092.

But I am unavoidably colored by living in and among so many people I've known since the Nixon Administration. We have our own language. We all talk about the same things. We had the same teachers. That's both good and bad...and I can't decide whether there's more good or more bad to it.

Still, I'm comfortable here. It's familiar and safe. And that desire for familiarity and safety extends to the way I spend my days. Whether at work or at home, I tend to follow set routines, which I think make me feel more in control.

Doctors say you should vary your experiences and change up your habits in order to keep your mind sharp. If that's true, then my mind is mush.

But would I be any smarter, any more insightful, or at all a better person if I had moved to, say, Chicago? Or Phoenix? Or Beijing? Maybe. I don't know. All I know is, I like it here. And there's no prospect of us leaving any time before Jack graduates from high school in 2024.

That's the year I'll turn 55. By then I'll be so set in my ways, you won't be able to get me to move three houses down the street, let alone to another town.

But by gosh, my neighbors and I will still be talking about life with Mrs. Lucci as our teacher in first grade...


(By the way, gotta give a shout out to an old friend − yes, a Wickliffe native − for inspiring the topic of today's post. You really need to check out her excellent blog, The Forgetful Genius. Trust me, it's worth your time.)