Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
–Robert Frost
Critics disagree on the poem’s meaning. Frost himself told us “The Road Not Taken” was nothing more than a tongue-in-cheek admonition to an indecisive colleague. One thing is certain – the poem has become an anthem for the individual, for the master of your fate, captain of your ship crowd. Before Fred Penner became international troubadour, he stood before a yellow wood, too. And yes, two roads diverged. Sorry he could not travel both? I’m not so sure.
“At that point in my early twenties, I had a BA in economics. I was primed to follow some standard business course because I was not a great student,” says Fred.
No one told Fred a career in music was a viable option, let alone encouraged the idea. And so, it remains today for every garage band musician. The times haven’t exactly been a-changin’ in that regard.
“I was in line to become a civil servant with Central Mortgage and Housing Corporation. I’d written exams for that and I was in the top 10 percentile of the civil service world, so I could have very easily slipped into that,” says Fred.
Horror of horrors! Luckily, events conspired to see to it that the only pencil-pushing Fred would do involved song writing and set lists. The collusion of other events precipitated Fred’s thinking about life in a profound manner. He lost his beloved younger sister, Susie, a child with exceptionalities. A year later, Fred’s father died.
“It was obviously a major trauma and turning point and it caused me to think deeply about what I wanted to do in my life,” he says. “That was the catalyst to actually attempting to figure out what my life was going to be, and I didn’t have a real plan of what kind of work I would ever do in my lifetime.”
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
The lounges and bars of Winnipeg were early recipients of the Penner talent and charm. Maybe economics could be a fallback, a plan B. But if one listens hard enough to hear their calling, seldom are alternate plans necessary. It was that way for Fred. The cat, as it turns out in this case, never went back.
“The only thing that has ever given me any kind of real internal spiritual positive bliss is music.”
One can almost hear the collective groan of economists everywhere as Fred followed his heart. Or, given Fred’s admission that he was not a sparkling student, is what one hears a sigh of their relief?
“As far as making music, in the seventies it was anything goes. I was doing lots of theatre. I was learning acting skills. I was performing in stage productions and musical comedy. It was never specifically about the children other than learning the value of music with Susie [Fred’s sister] because she would just get right inside of a song to the point of tears… I learned how deeply music can affect a child. That was always sitting in me.”
Through the course of the old networking wheel, Fred spent the seventies in and out of bands and bars playing songs, and in theatres playing the thespian. The wheel worked but was spinning in place.
“I wasn’t sure how things would unfold at that time. The first gig I had was three nights for a total of $75.”
Fast forward to the end of the decade. It was a blur for some, anyway. Not until the latter part of the seventies – when his then-first-wife-to-be and Fred started a children’s dance theatre company – did the intersection of music and its profound effect on children come into the kind of focus Fred had first experienced with Susie. That interaction led to doing shows for children in Winnipeg, one of which led to an offer to do a record, which opened the door to “The Cat Came Back.”
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
Time to get the requisite housekeeping out of the way. It’s the Fred Penner refresher. Fred has gotten the word, his word, out through albums, videos, picture books. You or someone you know remembers Fred Penner’s Place, his television show that ran from the mid-eighties to the late nineties. Juno awards, the Order of Manitoba, the Order of Canada. First children’s entertainer to play the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles. Enough already. Hard to stay humble. Unless you’re Fred Penner. He refers to the awards and accolades as “distant gravy.” Given Fred’s true motivation for doing what he does, the intimate connections and the profound effect his music has on people, how could the sparkling hardware not all be just gravy?
It’s easy to fall into condescending mode or at least its appearance when performing for children, but Fred has that rare ability to convey life lessons couched in the playful and deliver them as his audience’s equal.
Fred’s choice was perhaps as inevitable as inevitable can be. Unlike Frost’s narrator, Fred did not make a decision on a whim. In fact, it’s more accurate to say the decision was made for him. Jobs come and go. Vocations grab you with their teeth and hold on, and Fred has the bite marks to prove it. If there were a pantheon for people who make us feel good, who, from the time we’re children, instilL confidence and kindness in us, there are a few who might occupy a place in it. There’s that other Fred. Rogers. There’s Bob Ross. And there’s Fred Penner.
“What really drives me is finding music that goes deep, that offers something more than just a nice chorus and some fun. It’s trying to bring some integrity into the music for me… the message is always deeper for me,” says Fred.
Fred understands that music is his medium and as such knows the value of hooking the audience if he wants to have his message delivered and, more importantly, received. But don’t think fish on a line yanked from the sea. It’s more like coaxing a fawn towards you with kindness. If you can get them to eat out of the palm of your hand, well, all the better!
“Often I find parents telling me that they will use certain songs that I have as a form of encouragement; encouraging their children along the way.”
Imagine being a Penner kid. And speaking of Penner kids, humility comes in a variety of disguises. One of them is the desire to toot someone else’s horn (even if it happens to be your daughter’s) when you’re supposed to be talking about yourself.
“My eldest daughter, her name is Hayley. You can check out her music, Hayley Gene Penner. She’s been in L.A. for the last eight years writing music. Lots of interesting placement in films. Much recording. Helping young artists develop their talents. And she just wrote a book released in July,” glows Fred.
You know the story. Man or woman works at a career for 40 years chomping at the bit to gallop off into retirement’s sunset complete with gold watch around his or her hoof. The exception to that tale is the person who says, “Wait a sec, I have been loving this ride. I don’t want to get off.” If you’ve guessed Fred is in the latter group, giddy up.
“I have no intention of stopping because the demand is still there and I’m still enjoying what I’m doing. And I still have the ability to do what I do. It certainly is slowing down. I don’t have the energy that I had even 10 years ago. I still practice daily to keep my hands and voice limber, so I’m still working my craft. The ‘R’ word will not be here for a while I think,” says Fred. “You’re only as good as your last gig. I’ve always been a pretty even-keeled, gentle human being, gentle man. Unless I’m feeling physically under the weather, I go, and I work every show to the absolute best of my ability.”
In a 40-plus-year career, Fred can count on one hand how many times he feels he hasn’t given the audience what it needed. And that’s not even using the Pinky or Ruby ring.
Fred is philosophical about the transition from a simpler time to one where device inundation is a concern for so many.
“It’s a new day. It’s a new life happening. The technology has certainly reared its ugly head or its beautiful head. It’s really an unbelievable thing that has evolved, what people are able to do with their devices on a very powerful level. Communication obviously has increased. The technology certainly has a place in this world. You can’t deny it, that’s the bottom line. Where it I think falls down is the entertainment factor. It’s all about looking at a video or a cartoon, something on this piece of technology, this screen. From that you start losing the human-to-human connection and to speak to someone about your thoughts and feelings because so much of it is tied into the technology,” laments Fred.
It’s kind of a case of not shooting the messenger, except that the messenger sometimes needs to take a bullet. Or at least put your phone down now and again. In any case, Fred identifies himself as a sort of antidote to those who have been bitten by the venomous technology bug. Or snake.
“So, what I tell myself is that so much of what I’m doing is a balance to the technology. You know, I’m not a cartoon. I’m a father. I’m a grandfather. I’ve learned a skill of playing guitar and singing songs that I’ve written. And when I get up on stage, that’s the most fundamental level of communication that I can imagine. How basic, and how pure and beautiful is that? When you think of that whole process, what it takes to go from the safety and comfort of your own home to another venue to share in something, whether it’s dance or music or theatre, that really is an important part of our life, of our world. I relish that and I honour that in myself and in other performers who are still doing that. And there’s a whack in Canada!”
Legacy?
“My answer is always, it’s none of my business. I don’t do any of this for legacy. I know that people have very deep feelings about what I’ve contributed to the world. Ultimately, what I’ve done will stay with people as long as they want it to. They will pass it on if they want to. I can’t force the issue in any way at all. So, legacy? I am very proud of what I’ve done. I’ve been allowed to do this in a lifetime.”
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
“The course of my life could easily have gone in another direction,” says Fred. “I could have been a bitter young man thinking that my sister and dad died within a year of each other. You know, oh, woe is me. It may have fallen off the path, but it didn’t. I didn’t allow it to go in any other direction. I learned and gained a sense of strength from that. Where I have always based my career, my life, is that I can make a difference in the lives of others. I can attempt to make a difference in the lives of others through my music and can be a better person on this planet by being friendly, by listening to people, by gaining strength about what life is all about.”
Good answer.
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