California Dreamin'!!

We are well rested after spending the night in a Wigwam on Route 66 in San Bernardino! It is one of three of the original seven Wigwam Motels in the U.S. (Check out the history of the place here.)

It was kitschy as all get-out. And comfortable and clean and a great blast from the past. Jeni and I were exhausted from a weekend at a fabulous childcare conference on the campus of UC-San Bernardino. I delivered a key-note address to 450 child care providers -- great enthusiasm in that room! Thank God there are dedicated people who are providing a nurturing environment for kids.

We now are sitting in the Crown City Studios in Pasadena tuning up the instruments and getting ready to start recording the new CD! I'll post pics as we go.

Where are we going?

Technology sure makes life easy, but I think it's making me soft.

We arrived in Ontario, California, last night with one major item missing -- our GPS! I left it in the glove box of the van, which is parked at the airport in Kansas City. We're going to be here 12 days, and I was depending on that box to get us around. I feel so vulnerable.

It's not like I'm clueless to navigating. I love maps, and I generally have a great sense of direction. So, last night why did I feel like a lost kid searching for his mother at the mall? Before we hit the streets, we fumbled around with a rental car map, our cell phones, and a phone book (what's that?) until a friendly local dude offered assistance.

I could hear in my mind the sound of my deceased father smacking his forehead and shaking his head in disbelief. He's the one who taught me a love for orienteering. One of the few tangible objects that I inherited from my father was a yellowed plastic box full of maps. There are road maps and tourist maps and mostly old maps pulled from decades-old issues of National Geographic.

One of the many skills my father instilled in me -- in conjunction with that box of maps -- is a knack for getting from point A to point B. As we prepared for the dozens of road-trips we took as a family, he would spend hours planning, plotting, and routing. He loved figuring distances, estimating times of arrival, and calculating miles per gallon. And I loved looking over his shoulder at the scribbles on his maps.

As a young adult I experienced the satisfying rush of hitting the ground in an unknown territory, getting a lay of the land, grabbing a map, establishing my bearings, and sniffing out directions. And as much as I appreciate the convenience of a GPS, my dependence on it has shriveled my nurtured abilities and left me a puny helpless tourist.

So, now we are left armed with the quaint and antiquated tools of a laptop, Google maps, and a Blackberry. How will we survive? Stay tuned...

Calling all Stinky Feet Heads!

The Times They Are a-Changin'...so let's make music!


Dear Friends:

Thank you so much for the overwhelming support you've given me for more than a decade. Please know that I am fully aware that I wouldn't be doing what I love without you.

As some of you may know, the landscape of the music industry has changed dramatically over the past five years. (Check out my interview at Zooglobble.com) As the giant labels have faltered or collapsed with the rapid decline of retail album sales, independent artists have emerged as the leaders of the changing tide. Where some see a shriveled industry on life support, I see opportunity and challenge. And I love challenges.

So, I'm asking you to join me as we embark on an adventure into new territory. I have a goal of raising enough money to pay for outstanding musicians, promotion, production, and a Grammy-nominated producer for my new record. Please help me make this dream a reality. You've already been a big part of my success, so please consider taking part in the production of this project. You'd buy the new CD anyway, right? So, consider this a pre-purchase plan.

In addition to putting my heart and soul into making the best family music I can, check out some of the things we're offering below in exchange for your support.

Thank you for trusting me to deliver the very best for your children.

Cheers,

Jim

Levels of Participation (click on any level you'd like - you'll be taken to Jim's site where you can make your much appreciated donation):

"The Satisfied Fan" ($20) - you'll receive the new CD, autographed by Jim

"The Bargain Hunter" ($50) - you'll receive the new CD, autographed by Jim, a t-shirt, and a bonus CD selected randomly from Mr. Stinky Feet's past albums (all for $50? Yep!)

"Now You're Just Showing Off" ($150) - all of the above, plus name recognition (yours or your child's) and a "thank you" in the liner notes of the new CD (your kids will think you're so much cooler now that your name appears in Mr. Stinky Feet's new CD!)

"Happy Birthday To You" ($500) - You'll receive all of the above, plus a personal phone call from Mr. Stinky Feet to your child on his or her next birthday (unless they prefer a text!)

"We'll Work Out The Details Later" ($5000) - all of the above, plus Jim will come to your house and perform a private concert for your kids and their friends (while supplies last - there are only so many days in a year!)

"Mr. Flexibility Feet" (name your price) - no donation too small or too large!

Sometimes you just need a show.

Yesterday our five-year-old daughter taped a handwritten note to our front window for all the world to see. It reads, "Winter end please. To God. Love Lyda."

That about sums up how everyone in our house feels right now. Just a bad case of the winter blahs. Enough snow! Enough cold! I mean, it's been pretty and all, but enough already!

And today was another one of those cooped-up-in-the-house days. Sweat pants and slippers. Soup for lunch. (Did I even brush my teeth this morning?) Hours of work on the computer, until by late afternoon my head throbbed. I was scheming for a hot shower and early bedtime when Jeni said, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for your show?"

"Show?! I have a show tonight? Holy crikey, I totally spaced it." Some days my head is not in the game, and this was one of them.

I inhaled some left-over pasta and put on my game face, even though the thought of actually shaving and dressing for the day at five o'clock didn't thrill me. As I drove to the show, I gave myself a pep talk and shouted my gratitude for a paying gig.

When I arrived at the school gym, the women from Hickman Mills Parents as Teachers were there to greet me with hugs. (Hugs always help boost my energy -- like spinach for Popeye.) But, they all seemed to be operating on deflated resignation that the cold and snow would keep the crowd away.

At ten minutes to show time, there were about 12 people milling around the gym. The prospects looked bleak. But then people started to trickle in. And more came. Then more, still. We delayed the intro five minutes as families in their parkas came streaming in. Then, another five minutes. There were well over a 100, maybe close to 150.

Finally, I strummed a few chords to grab their attention and off we went. We danced. We sang. We laughed. We rocked. Moms and dads and grandmas grooved. Sisters and brothers boogied. Diapered ones toddled around to their own beat. It was an all-out mid-winter antidote-to-cabin-fever bash!

It's as if everyone in that room blended their voices together in perfect unison to shout to the universe, "Hey, we've got all the warmth we need right here! We've got song! We've got dance! We've got friends!"

Sometimes you just need a show to kick out the blues.

The year in numbers (and photos)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

"Blessed. Blessed, indeed."

That's the answer I would get every time I asked a woman I used to work with, "How are you?" I started to ask her that just so I could hear her response.

It's time to recall the blessings of 2009. There are so many. Thank you to all who helped us live our dream every day. We couldn't cruise the country singing songs without your support.

And 2009 wasn't without its difficulties, sadness, and tears. We attended more funerals in the past six months than we have in the past three years. There are still gaping holes in our hearts from the passing of our dear friend and super-human Bongo Barry Bernstein (photo is from our show together in May), and from the equally sudden loss of Jeni's cousin Greg. Both are child-like spirits who continue to inspire.

Many thanks to those of you who hosted shows and opened up your homes to us this year and fed us and gave us a place to rest: The McLoones, Gjovigs, Skuces, Gogals, Christnagels, Eitzmans, Trices, Carters, Obamas (the Lincoln bed was really comfy), Sedenos, Leahys, Pizzos, Castenedas; Stotzers, Annette O'Connor, Diane Baryenbruch, and Kate Kopischke.

Here are some outstanding numbers from 2009:

13: Number of fish caught and kissed by Lyda while fishing for the first time in Wisconsin.

2: Number of times Jim was mistaken for Willa's grandfather. Number of teeth lost by Lyda in five week period. Number of kids who vomited during a Mr. Stinky Feet concert. Number of times in the same week Jeni saw Bon Jovi in concert.

126: Number of jars of peanut butter collected at shows in December for local food banks.

1: Number of hotel microwave ovens blown open by exploding eggs. Number of breweries toured (Leinenkugal in WI). (No correlation between these items.) Number of raisins removed by medical professionals from Willa's nose.

117: Number of episodes of The Brady Bunch in the complete five-season DVD box set. We've watched all of them.

3: Number of fingers Willa holds up when she tells people she's two.

25,000+: Number of people who attended Jiggle Jam 2009. (The grooviest family music fest in the country! Photo is backstage with Recess Monkey and Brady & Bridget Rymer)

24: Number of boyfriends Lyda collected on tour -- as of today. (Down from the mid-30s in September because she "dumped" some.)

49: Number of shows Jim played in July.

8: Number of days in a week -- Lyda and Willa are huge Beatles fans.

11: Number of requests for a photograph Grandpa Schmidt got while made up like Gene Simmons at the KISS concert.

14: Number of states in which we performed.

16: Number of times the girls rode the Wacky Worm roller coaster at Worlds of Fun.

240: Total number of Mr. Stinky Feet Concerts.

110: Number of times Lyda sang "Stinky Feet" on stage.

18,000+: Number of tour miles.

1.3 Bazillion: Number of hours Jeni spent on Facebook.

7.7 Gazillion: Number of times we'd like to say "Thank you" to you all for helping make this life so wonderful. And it still wouldn't adequately represent our gratitude.

Lessons in Courage

Maddox and me

If I had to choose one thing that is most fulfilling about my career, I suppose it would be the amazing life lessons that I've learned from kids. And there's no shortage of those lessons -- they keep coming.

Last week I visited two spirited and courageous kids at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. The first was Maddox, an energetic three-year-old with a spine disorder. You'd never know the way this guy bounds around in his wheelchair that he also has a metal halo attached to his skull with multiple screws. It serves as a traction device to help straighten out his spine -- and it seems to be working. We laughed and sang songs and played instruments, and he hammed it up for the camera. Pure joy.

Maddox exemplifies one of my favorite things about kids: They're usually pretty good about living in the moment. You can see it in their cherub faces as you walk the halls of any pediatric ward. They're not worried about the past or the future. Their heads aren't full of the worldly stresses that weigh heavily on us adults. Their "carpe diem" attitudes seem to scream, "Forget about my bald head, let's play! So what if I'm strapped into this chair for a few months, I've got wheels! OK, so my body is like a pin cushion from all the needle pokes, but do you want to hear a knock-knock joke?" I can't say I'd be very "present" (or pleasant) if I were in the same situation.

The next girl I visited was Elise. She's three, too, and is being treated for Leukemia. She'd been running a fever of about 105 for a few days. Yes, that's right, 105 degrees!! As you can imagine, she was a bit sluggish. She was asleep when I came in the room. When her mother woke her, she turned to me and grinned. We sang a few songs, and she asked for the "Slug Bug" song. Up went her hands, shaking them crazy everywhere, as she giggled! Then she rolled over and fell back to sleep. If I had a fever that high, I don't think I'd want to see some goofy dude with a guitar. But, not Elise. Her mom said she's been talking about it ever since.

Please remember all those kids who will spend the holidays in the hospital. Remember, too, their parents who will be standing, sitting, pacing, and sleeping anxiously by their sides. And please remember their health care providers who skillfully and tenderly encourage their healing.

I'll leave you with a great quote that's on the wall of the lobby of Children's Mercy Hospital...

"Skill cannot take the place of sympathy and understanding, for science without heart is ugly and pitiless." Dr. Katherine Berry Richardson

Lessons in Grace

Lisa and son Josh at Arrowhead Stadium

The first time I saw Lisa was in the audience at one of my shows a couple of years ago. She wasn't just another mom with her kids in her lap. Clearly, she was different. For starters, she wore a bandanna that covered a very obviously bald head. But what really made her stand out was her bright eyes, her smile, and her enthusiasm. Not what I expected from someone slogging through the nausea of chemo-therapy.

Lisa and her kids -- Josh and Lilli -- became regulars, showing up at performances all over town. As Jeni and I got to know her, she shared more of her story. First the diagnosis, then the treatment -- 16 rounds of chemo, then the strain it put on her marriage, then the divorce, then the double mastectomy -- followed by 33 rounds of radiation, then the joy of re-emerging health and re-emerging hair. Through it all she showed patience, strength, and determination. Not that there weren't ever a few bitter words thrown it now and then, but almost always she beamed with confidence and enthusiastic presence. I'm pretty sure they call that "grace."

In August Funky Mama and I played a fundraiser for a man who was going through prostate cancer treatment. And here comes smiling Lisa bounding through the door, without her children. Her ex had the kids that weekend, so she came by herself, to "show support," she said.

Then her smile turned to a determined grimace and she said,"I got some bad news yesterday. The cancer is back, and it's in my brain. They found 60 little tumors."

Before I could respond, she took a deep breath and said, "But I start a new treatment on Monday and I'm gonna beat it, because Josh and Lilli need their mom."

As she was heading in to take a seat, she said, "I didn't know you did these kinds of fundraisers. Do you think you could do one for me and my family?"

"You bet I will. Anything to help," I said.

"Good. I want to do it in February."

That was the last time I saw Lisa. She was finally relieved of her pain and led home to paradise by the angels on Saturday morning.

The last time we corresponded via email, she requested that we do the concert whether she's there or not. So, for Josh and Lilli, we're on for February. Watch the calendar for details.

Peace to you, graceful Lisa.