Brain (K)nots

Hey, Mister Spaceman....

2011-11-26T15:47:00.000-08:00

I'm gettin' itchy to meet a galactic neighbor. The time feels right. Don't ask me why. The question of extraterrestrial life comes up fairly regularly in my conversations; I guess because I probably instigate it. The last two or three times it's come up I was met with the response, "I don't think there's anyone out there." That's amazing to me...because I'm so convinced they ARE out there. Maybe it's all those Saturday afternoons watching pods turn into people or trips to a Forbidden Planet or even laughing at Plan 9 From Outer Space. Hey, even an eight year old kid can see they changed Bela Lugosi's mid flick. And now it's day....whoops....now it's night..uh oh.... day again. Or maybe it's the late night radio shows I've been running into. Ninety percent of that conversation I don't buy into. I can't say they're wrong. I always say, and will continue to say, ANY THING'S possible. I just....don't buy into most of it. I'm not even sure we've ever been observed or visited. I'm just sure they're out there. All those great Sci fi movies, as cool as they were, always left me a little cold. I mean, I wanted them to land in my back yard.

Then the question comes up, "Well, why haven't they visited us?" The simple answer is I don't know. No one does. But I have a couple of theories. One is distance. Earth like planets have been discovered a few stars away from us. Ten.....fifteen years ago the big question was,"Are there any other planets out there?" Now we know there are. Many. That doesn't mean there's any kind of life out there....but it doesn't mean there isn't, either. But to get to the closest one, traveling at or near the speed of light, is a generational trip. And that's just tooling around in our own cosmic neighborhood. And the ability to reach anything close to the speed of light is a long way off. Talk to Einstein. So barring the invention of warp drives or wormhole shortcuts or inter dimensional pathways, it may simply be a matter of leapfrogging our way across the galaxy; a colony here, move on, a colony there, move on, etc. And once we get done with the two hundred billion stars in our galaxy, we can move on to the two hundred billion stars in each of the two hundred billion other galaxies. That' a lot of planets, man. And take these numbers with a grain of salt. Give or take a few billion either way.

My other theory is maybe they've been watching and observing for a long time but have no desire to interact. Could it be we're.....boring? Maybe it's that Star Trek prime directive thing where they can't interfere with a species' natural evolution. Or they're just sizing us up; sittin' back and watching.....seeing if we're gonna make the cut. Maybe whoever's in charge of this whole eternal universe thing set it up so we CAN'T reach each other. He's given us the tools to cruise around our own cosmic block but no further. As if to say, "Look around, have fun, but tend to your own garden." You can almost see the girl's camp across the lake...but not quite. Curiosity, the latest Mars rover, took off this morning. It's exciting stuff. But TOO SLOW!!! Can someone please invent impulse power NOW?!

I love watching Nova or tales about the evolution of the universe on the History Channel but the frustrating thing is it always turns out the same. Maybe they're there. Maybe they're not. It's like watching the guys chasing the ghosts. Just show me video of a ghost standing there, wouldja. Not something in the dark at the end of the room for a second and a half that's probably a reflection or a shadow. I guess they can hear it saying "Get Out," but all I hear is static. And I've got a wild imagination. I definitely heard John say,"I buried Paul" at the end of Strawberry Fields. When I was fifteen that was a head turner; till I found out he meant Paul was buried in the mix of the album. Dang, skunked again. So we seem to think they're out there..... but....... the old back and forth.

That doesn't stop me from going out at night and throwing out an open invitation to the universe. So far, no response. I don't think anything landed in Roswell, I don't think there's been any alien abductions ...or autopsies. I don't think the government knows anymore than anyone else. And if they do....quit worrying about the panic in the streets scenario. We can handle it. I think.

This quote has been attributed to a few different folks, Isaac Asimov among them. I like it. "The universe is not only stranger than we imagine, it's stranger than we can imagine." Put that in your phaser and fire it. Peace.

Then...and then...and now.....

2011-08-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

Well..... here we are once again. Mid August. A remembrance of a little party that went on in Bethel Woods and was named for the nearby town of Woodstock, NY. Can it be forty two years?!? I didn't go to the show in 1969. I did go this weekend. At my age you have to grab your adventures wherever you find them. My band had a gig at a wedding "celebration" in a town about a half hour south of Bethel Woods....two and a half hours from my home in NJ. I had it in the back of my mind that I might stay in the area that night and visit the site the next day.
This was a good weekend. Had a good gig with the boys at a local pub Friday night. I left plenty of time to get to the Saturday gig 'cause I figured I'd probably find myself off the beaten path a few times. I did. But with the aid of some good samaritans I found myself back on track and in plenty of time for the gig. It was a good bash! So we're lined up in three cars to pull out afterwards. They went right. I called an audible and went left. Some locals had given me the info I needed to carry out my pilgrimage. I got a room about fifteen minutes up the road in Monticello. Woodstock....Bethel Woods was about fifteen minutes further north.
The next morning I ventured out and soon I was at .....WOODSTOCK...!!!!!!!...aka The Bethel Woods Music and Arts Center. A huge rock with the logo beckoned me to come in. (Cue CSNY..."By the time I got to........") There was a kid working at one of the parking lots waiting for the crowd for a show that night. I asked him who was playing and he said,"Nobody I know." Turns out it was Blood, Sweat and Tears, Tommy James and the Shondells and The Family Stone...minus Sly. Everybody I know. I wasn't sticking around anyway and just needed directions to the site. He seemed a little foggy on what I was looking for, even though it was only a quarter mile or so down the road.
At this point I have to say a nice job was done with the preservation of the concert site. The drive in from the main road was idyllic and empty. I got to the end of the road, a little past the Museum and on my right....there it was. No one around. I mean no one. And this was the anniversary weekend! I turned the corner and pulled in. Tiny little parking area. It was an overcast day and the surrounding countryside was geen, expansive and....smelled good. An arbor led the way in. I'm not sure but I think pixies were throwing flowers in front of me. I came out to a large rock with the Woodstock logo and a list of all the bands and a few words about the weekend. In front of me was Yasgur's farm. Just to the left was the footprint of the stage. The hill that had been filled with half a million people lo those many years ago went up and out and all around from there. Gardens and a few small seating areas and.....me and the ghosts. (the wind?) I've heard the complaint that "they" (the man?) won't let you on the site anymore. Well there's a fence preventing you from walking down to the stage. But even the fence is a tasty wooden Woodstocky type fence. And it's ALL the site, anyway. I climbed over the fence, walked in a ways and took a seat. Power to the people, man.
I sat there for about forty five minutes and a real sense of the spiritual wrapped itself around me. I felt like I was in church. But it was starting to get a little weird. As it should. Was it my imagination or was that The Who I was hearing? Whoa. That's definitely The Who. Turns out it was a sound check from one of the concert venues a few hundred yards away. Dang! A few "check...one...twos" confirmed it. (Stay away from the brown acid!) As I was leaving I had a nice conversation with a couple folks who snuck in while I was "praying." They were from my neck of the woods here in Jersey and said they come up every year. I asked them where all the hippies were. They said camping used to be allowed on the site (there's the man with his boot on the back of your neck, AGAIN!!) but had been moved to down the road where a friendly tavern owner allowed camping on his property.
I wasn't gonna stop at the museum. But I did. And I'm glad I did. After you wind your way through the Bethel Woods gift shop ($45 tie dyed tee shirt, anyone?) you wind up in the museum, which is really laid out well and very cool. One big theater and a few smaller screens, lots of lounging areas with big bean bag chairs,the magic bus, posters, memoribilia, interactive stations, and a recording booth where you can leave a remembrance of.... whatever. So there I am, forever in posterity in the little recording booth archive at the musem in the Bethel Woods Music and Arts Center. I was the only one in the Theater watching the Woodstock documentary (akin to Charlton Heston in The Omega Man. Google it.) and the only one sitting in the back of the Magic Bus for the tour. All in all, very tastefully done......and peaceful.
As I was pulling out of town there was the road with the strange name my jersey pals told me about. I pulled down the road and entered 1969. My brothers and sisters. All ages and sizes. Lots of gray. Lot of peace signs being thrown at me. Lots of music, campfires and hippies. And there it was. A taste of the "feeling." I headed home.
PS
I started my Woodstock adventure blog back in August and finished it today. Sept 11th. As I'm writing this, the tv's on in the background as the names of victims of that day are being read by family members. The reading's been going on for almost three hours.
That morning I had just dropped someone off at Newark airport for a flight he would never get on. As I was leaving the airport, heading west on Rt. 78, billowing smoke filled my rear view mirrors, just as Stuttering John busted into Howard Stern's studio to announce that a plane had crashed in to the World Trade Center. I knew I was done for the day, and probably the rest of the week.
I watched the images from my apartment in Pittstown, NJ. I got there just in time to see the first tower fall. The thought of the lives lost, and the manner in which they were lost, made me physically ill. My first thoughts weren't of who did it... or let's get the bastards... or did we bring this on ourselves.....etc. I thought of little girls whose fathers wouldn't be coming home. Of wives who'd be wondering where, exactly, their husbands were at that moment. Many never finding out. Brothers looking for sisters, nephews looking for uncles, workers looking for co workers. Cars parked at NJ commuter rail stations that wouldn't be picked up for weeks. Did I know anyone in there? I did. It was just hard to think of revenge in the wake of so many innocents gone. I get into downtown NY regularly and the fact that the Freedom Tower has taken ten years to get going is .....discouraging.
The last few days have been filled with documentaries and various news reports of Sept 11th. The images never fail to bring up the emotions of that day. I'm glad I'm not the guy who has to come up with any answers. I don't have any. Just an ache in my heart for our....their....your..... loss. Almost four hours. The reading of names continues. They're up to S. Peace.

Women....Cant' live with 'em.........

2011-03-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

Women are smart, beautiful, good under pressure, smell good and make our life as men a lot easier. There. I said it. The secret's out. I've always gotten along well with women. They're easy to talk to and I've been told they have an easy time talking to me. I always take that as a compliment. I remember on a gig break at Lily Langtry's in Old Bridge, NJ (They had a full size stuffed bear in the lobby....Judge Roy Bean and all...) I was shooting the breeze with a nice lady. As I was getting up for the next set she said, "Hey, I've known you for ten minutes...told you how much I weigh...how much I make...after taxes.....what I paid for my house after a small inheritance....how much that was....where I live and where I work. You ought to be an interrogater. I didn't even know how much I was giving up." I'm paraphrasing, but that's close. She left and I never saw her again. Maybe she thought I had too much on her. But this scenario has happened to me many times over the years. I don't try. I'm just....curious.

So I guess I'm easy to talk to. That's nice. Of course, sometimes I'm not interested and that's where my meager acting skills come into play. But generally, I like listening. How many times have broken hearted girlfriends of pals of mine poured their hearts out to me so I can make it all better. I can't tell them the truth. But I always tried to soften the blow.

I like women. I've managed to stay friends with ex girlfriends and my ex wife. That says a lot about them. I don't mean to give the impression that's a long list. It's not. I'm flattered...and amazed that any woman would want to be associated and seen in public with me. In high school I had a lot of girl "friends." That came in handy when I had my eye on someone and could send a gender friendly pal in to lay the ground work. Can that backfire? Sure. But that's the fun of it. But then I'd have to be the middle man for them. Can that backfire? Sure. Feets do your stuff.

As long as I can remember women have been there. My mother was there at my birth. My grandparents lived next door to the first house I remember at 616 Monroe Ave, Plainfield NJ. My grandmother and I became fast friends and I could always depend on her for a couple of cookies or a soda. My grandfather taught me how to play checkers, cards, field ground balls and about the importance of being able to hit to all fields.

My parents bought their own home around 1958 - 9 and after her husband died my aunt shared the place with us. Another woman I could always drop in on for a snack or some TV.

How many King Kongs, Son Of Kongs, The Things, The Crawling Eyes (Hey....It's an eye!!!! Poke It!!!!) etc.....did poor old Aunt Catherine sit through. She seemed to enjoy it and didn't mind telling me when my time was up.

My grandfather died in '60 and my grandmother moved in. Some architectural changes and I had my three favorite women in the same house. Lots of escapes. No one ever knew where I was. They just assumed I was ok. And there was my sister to keep me honest. We all had many summer nights sitting on the screened in porch as they knocked back a couple beers and watched the neighborhood comings and goings as I tried to decipher the female language. I don't remember my brother or father spending much time out there. We all needed our escapes. I tape recorded some of those evenings but they've slipped into the ether.

Once The Beatles and music took over I had a perfect escape in my grandmother's bedroom. She had....a record player!!!!! And man did she get sick of Twist and Shout! Years later, when I'd be leaving for the gig she'd always say, "Now ....do you have your banjo?" I gave up trying to explain it was a bass and just said, "Yeah, thanks Gram."

My brother was eight years older and my father was either working or volunteering ....(escaping...?).....at the Plainfield Rescue Squad. So it was me and the ladies most of the time. I've always said that I think I'm half chick. All these....feelings......make them stop!!!!! I had the best of both worlds growing up. Lots of guys to play baseball with, make rafts, climb trees, get into fights, irritate girls and just generally barely escape death every day. There were also lots of girls in the neighborhood that we had no problem hangin' out with....to a point. " What?.....You wanna play football with us? I ....don't think so."

My mother, aunt and grandmother are no longer around. Many times I've wished I could go back to one of those summer nights on the porch in Plainfield and join in the conversation. They....we.... laughed a lot. They were very generous to my friends. Post baseball games there'd always be lemonade for everyone. My grandmother spent the better part of an afternoon making her famous "Yum Yum Cake" for one of my pals. We just hung around waiting. A crowd gathered and that cake didn't last too long. I haven't run into that cake since.

West Sixth St. was a cool, everyone watched each others back kind of neighborhood. My father applied first aid to many, my mom chauffered and my grandmother cooked. My aunt was willing to chauffer but nobody'd get in the car with her. Except for me. I miss them. They weren't Jane Wyatt or June Cleaver.....but I miss them.

And so it goes. These days I'm lucky to be sharing life on the river with a beautiful, smart, caring woman whose four kids, I hope, appreciate her as much as I do. Hey guys! Let's tell them that every now and then. Peace.

ANOTHER year older?!?!

2010-12-24T12:51:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas time in the city. Ring a freakin' ling. Christmas 2010.Well if this doesn't conjure up feelings....memories...dread....joy....church

...nuns....presents.

...girlfriends......snow....trees......you
get the idea. Seems like I was always doing Christmas/seasonal shows of one kind or another. First with the St Mary's Boys Choir....in four part harmony ....and later bars and/or party gigs with any number of bands. Ah...show biz.
A real sense of pressure builds up as the big day approaches, doesn't it?
Today is Christmas eve. The decorations are up. Shopping is done. Gifts
wrapped. Now....we wait. I've had some really special, fun Christmas Eves. A late night in Piscataway walking home from a friend's house in a still falling dead quiet snow. The only sound was the crunching of my steps. A visit from a buddy and his girlfriend and the eventual killing of a bottleof Amaretto. An after gig party in Bermuda with some new friends.......and a shaky moped ride home at 5 AM. Made it! A mid 70's Christmas eve gig at the Pittstown Inn......so crowded we had to sit on the stage at break time. Another gig with another band at a lodge in Hunter Mtn, NY. Snowmobiling through the woods and across a frozen lake. Man, I wish I'd have brought gloves. To this day the feeling hasn't quite come all the way back in one or two of my fingers. Or sitting at home with someone you love watching "A Christmas Carol" or "A Christmas Story." (You'll shoot your eye out!!) Feelings. Lots of 'em.
I remember one "eve" shopping for a Christmas tree with my mom and
watching her work the guy from fifty cents to a quarter. A quarter!!! The woman knew when to shop. We got the tree home. Soon my father(not the handiest of men) was standing on a ladder putting the final touches on the star as the ladder collapsed bringing down my father and an open can of paint.(I knew that was trouble) Then man met floor, breaking his arm. Ye -owch! Watching the dog lap up and then throw up the paint.....ahhhhhh.........."It's beginning to look a lot .....
Christmas day is just so unlike any other day. The streets are quiet. Even the birds and squirrels look different, as if they know......something. Anyone you run into gives you that Christmas day look. A look of
.........peace? I don't know. It's just different. I always try to get
outside by myself for a few minutes on Christmas day. Escape. Remember what the day is. Regardless of your beliefs.... it's someone's birthday. I just like to say Happy Birthday. Gotta problem with that? I love watching the look on someone's face when you know you nailed their present. Is it better....more fun.... to give than to receive? I don't know. But it's close. Then there's the post gifts/dinner/dessert letdown. It's palpable. The air goes out of the room. All that trouble....for this? Well......yeah. And we're gonna do it again next year. Starting a day or two earlier if things hold true to form.
As I mentioned somewhere else here in cyberspace, I lost my parents on NewYears eve...ten years apart. So in addition to all those other
feelings...there's that. But as I think back on fifty plus Christmas', I
always wind up smiling. I've been extremely lucky. Good friends...family. Most of the people I've been close to...."get it." (If you have to ask...maybe you don't?) The Jesus Christmas cartoon on SNL is a classic.You tube it. It'll make you smile. Merry Christmas. Peace.

Fuuurrrtherrrr....................

2010-10-16T04:18:00.000-07:00

You can really tell you're getting old when you start seeing your past come around again. Case in point......band reunions. A lot of the old bands from the 60's and 70's have been reuniting ...successfully.... and it's pretty cool. I'm talking local Jersey bands. Kinderhook....The Doughboys...The Good Rats. Jersey had a great club scene in the 70's. A band could easily play seven nights a week if so inclined. My personal high was nine nights in a row including two afternoon gigs with a band called Sundown. Two guitars and a bass. A lean, mean, giggin' machine. Not a great band but not too bad. Lots of vocals. People love vocals. I love vocals. We used to overload the harmonies to get the girls out 'cause the boys would be right behind 'em. There's yer crowd. "Ooooh's" for bucks as we'd say. Crass?

Times, sensitivities, values have changed. For the better. My first full time band was Freewheelin'. Old pals who were in the right place at the right time playing the right kind of music. The mid seventies saw a big country rock boom on the Jersey scene, ala Flying Burrito Brothers, Poco, Grateful Dead, New Riders, etc. And we jumped on board. This was the stuff we were playing anyway and it appeared that the scene caught up to us. The drinking age was eighteen, liberality abounded and...... lots of gigs. But, and I've mentioned this in other blogs, I can't believe we survived. We did stupid things. We got around in a Volkswagen camper. Four guys, no seat belts, three in the front and one in the jump seat, jammed full of equipment, plenty of beer and other treats, working on harmonies all the way to the gig. Then we'd do it again at two o' clock in the morning......usually minus one or two guys. And, as trite as it sounds, everyone was doing it. Even if we got stopped by a cop he'd just give us a warning or confiscate the beer. Again, how did we survive? Well, we had my pal Rock at the wheel. He was Neal Cassady to our Merry Pranksters. (I refer you to Tom Wolfe's "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test.") Unthinkable today....and rightly so. It really does make you think someone was watching. Freewheelin' was a good, rockin' crowd pleasin' dance band.....once on stage. It was the gettin' to the gig, startin' on time, makin' it back from breaks, publicity, dress, dealing with club owners thing that we could never quite get.

The aforementioned Kinderhook was the top of the line country rock band at the time and they kind of took us under their wing. They let us open for them a few times and would call us when they couldn't make a gig. Good dudes. We'd hang out at their house in Hackettstown, NJ, and eventually relocated to that area. Anyplace that would put us up for awhile and could sustain our marathon practice/party sessions was our home. Usually short lived. We would always overstay our welcome. Discretion and moderation were not in our vocabulary. Here's a classic example. We opened up for Kinderhook at a club called Casper's in East Brunswick, NJ. During the course of the night I was shootin' the breeze with Andy, their bass player. They'd just opened up for Poco in Central Park and it seemed like they were on their way. Even the guys in Poco were impressed. So Andy was telling me about the gig and the guys in Poco and how they're just like us and how they got invited to the after party........WHAT!!!!!! I said, "Whoa....what was that like?" Andy said,"Well, we decided not to go. We thought they were probably just being polite and we didn't really want to overstay our welcome....." And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Freewheelin' would have beaten Poco to the party, been the first ones in line at the buffet table sticking rolls and cheese in our pockets, ordering nothing but the top shelf booze, and probably been politely asked to leave at some point during the night. We weren't bad guys or malicious.... extremely friendly as a matter of fact. But we were young, caught up in the scene and most of the time...not in reality. Some friends didn't make it. We did.

I was talking to a bar owner at a gig a few weeks ago and he was feeling me out about getting the boys together for a gig. Believe it or not, everyone's still around. But I think it's one of those things that's better left...remembered. There's a couple other old bandmates from different bands that have contacted me about some reunion gigs. Some.....most.....better left un-reunioned. Everyone's doing it. We need a Woodstock for all the old fart Jersey bands! In the meantime, get out and see Kinderhood, The Doughboys, The Good Rats, Sam The Band, Cowtown, Frankie and the Bern and your particular old favorite. I'll bet they're around....in spirit, anyway. Peace.

Summertime....and the livin' WAS easy

2010-09-12T09:35:00.000-07:00

Where'd the summer go?! I mean......where'd the summer go?!?! I remember when I was a kid, summer vacation seemed like it went on forever. Then, at some point, you realize it's basically two months and change. Depressing. But remember that feeling waking up on the first, second, third day of summer vacation and realizing...ohhh yeahhhh.....it's summertime, baby. West Sixth St in Plainfield, NJ was a cool place to spend summers. Middle class....I guess....lots of kids....different age ranges. I was kind of in the middle so depending on the days action I could float among the different groups. Monopoly or Stratego with Stanley on his porch. That could kill a half day. His mom didn't trust me as far as she could throw me but as long as we were in sight it was cool. Bike adventures to the local parks or card flipping tournaments with Mary Ann. She cleaned me out more than once. Or Baseball with the older guys. Developed some pretty good skills early on by hangin' with those guys. One day the guys were playing St. Stan's baseball team from down the road. They were actually an organized team......with uniforms! Remember when The Bowery Boys, aka The East Side Kids would play a local organized team and hijinks would ensue? Yeah.... like that. In that kind of scenario I may or may not get the call. But that day I did. St. Stan's had a pitcher who threw nothin' but heat. He was wild and already had facial hair. I got the call to lead off and man did he look huge. I can't remember his name now but even that was frightening. I stepped in and their catcher said, "Good luck." Pretty sporting, I'd say. I tried to say "Thanks, you too" but my mouth was so dry all I could do was nod and attempt a weak smile and a little bit of spit. I wondered where that annoying clicking was coming from and realized it was my knees banging together. Ah....a time to test my mettle. I actually heard the first pitch whiz by. Strike one! Sounded like a ball to me. On the second pitch I started to swing before he actually let the ball go and danged if I didn't pop it just over second base. I stood proudly on first base as the next three guys struck out. I owned Lurch for the rest of the game. Got two more hits and then he drilled me in the ribs on my last at bat. Accident? I think not. Didn't matter. I laughed all the way to first. Y'know how the pros always downplay their performance and insist it doesn't matter unless the team wins. Never bought that. I don't even remember if we won or lost, but my status shot skyward. It's amazing what confidence can do. It bolstered my little league game, helped in brawls with my sister and even Sr Anne Eucharia didn't seem as intimidating.

And that was the day that my place in the neighborhood changed. I was no longer going back and forth between the older and younger group as much but now had a fairly secure place with the older guys. They were even coming to the door to get me for this or that. Hide and seek, tag etc just didn't seem to do it anymore. But I did notice it was getting more and more interesting to also hang with that other group. Did I mention the girls? I was on W. Sixth St. from Kindergarten to the middle of eighth grade. A lot can happen in that span. I noticed when I was around eleven, twelve, thirteen I was coming up with excuses to be around the girls. And I could be pretty creative. They made me feel ....funny.

I started playing guitar around age twelve and then things really got weird. Nancy lived across the street. She died a few years ago and that gave me pause for reflection. She was always a little more artsy than the rest of the crew and would like to hang out when I was practicing and critique, suggest, sing along and just be Garfunkle to my Simon. She had a great ear. My guitar teacher taught me House of the Rising Sun in E minor. Who does House of the Rising Sun in E minor!!?! Nancy knew it was wrong right off the bat. What could I do? I wouldn't find out about transposing keys for a few years.

And then I moved to Piscataway. Time to navigate among groups once again. Somehow I could always do that. Hang with the Jocks, The Dweebs, the Intelligencia, the...uh...not so intelligencia and the neighborhood guys. All the time keeping my grades right in the meaty part of a solid respectable C. Math always hurt my GPA. I got a D in Geometry, went to summer school and got a......D. C'mon...who can concentrate in the summer!? Especially when the girls in my class were wearing summertime clothes and smelling so good....and....and....

Somehow I've made it to fifty eight and never had to prove why a parallelogram is a parallelogram to anyone. And don't get me started on the Rhombus. I think the message here is don't be afraid to roam among groups. It can be kind of off putting to some people when groups collide but so what!!

Man, I wish I could come up with a really interesting wrap up here but Linda's grandkids have been on the other computer watching "Fred" at an extreme volume and I hate to admit it but....uh....I'm kind of starting to dig it so........how 'bout those Yanks?

Peace.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...."

2010-07-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

I had the most inane, but fascinating discussion the other day. Given the chance, what super hero would you want to be? No, these discussions don't only happen at the Seinfeld coffee shop. It was two other guys and me and as it went on it actually got kind of heated. Guys take their super heroes very personally. But to me it's no contest. Superman can do it all. He just has to avoid Kryptonite in it's various forms. Not as easy as it sounds but worth the trade off. Another guy wanted to be Batman. What!?!? And get this. The other Mensa candidate wanted to be the Flash! They each had their arguments but why bother. Superman trumped them all. I was a DC comics fan and never did the Marvel thing so maybe I don't have all the facts, but they just have no game. Batman's clever, wily, strong, has a great car and hideaway..... and is rich. The flash is .......uh.....fast. Batman wouldn't stand a chance in the Octagon with Superman, and as far as speed....remember the one where Superman crossed the solar system in ten seconds and only lost time because he stopped to save a treed cat? Yes, he even has a super heart. And just use your imagination in regards to his X Ray vision. I could think of only one use for that when I was ten. Granted, I haven't read a Superman comic since around 1967 but unless things have radically changed, he's still my guy. And don't even try comparing the Bat Cave to the Fortress of Solitude.

In the course of blogging I've referenced the Man of Steel a few times. I've come to realize......once again...... it's a guy thing...... kinda like The Three Stooges. I'm sure you've gotten the old, "But why is he always hitting them?" Hey.....BECAUSE HE'S MOE!!!!!!! And forget trying to explain the letdown of a Shemp for a Curly.

I still have a picture of my father and me on the couch, sometime in the late fifties, early sixties staring at the TV. The caption reads "Interested in Superman." My brother got a camera around that time and by default became the historian of life on West Sixth Street. Captions and all. As a fan of Mad magazine he'd try to make them topical/irreverent/ cynical. There's another shot of my sister and me on her bed locked in combat. As usual, I'm on the bottom getting the worst of it as the caption reads "Typical."

My father's main complaint about Superman was he couldn't believe no one knew Clark Kent was Superman. Glasses and a suit? C'mon....I had to agree. But TV in the fifties and sixties demanded a suspension of belief. Why couldn't the professor just patch the hole on the Minnow? Why did the Howells bring a trunk full of clothes and packets of money? Why didn't Gilligan and Mary Ann ever.......or....did they? And remember the one where a camera and film washed up on the island? The castaways decide to make a movie recounting their shipwreck and hoped somebody would find it, put two and two together and come rescue them. Yeah....maybe. Or here's an idea. How about a movie where you stand there with a billboard that says "Help! We were shipwrecked on the Minnow a few years back. We think we're at (I'm sure the professor could come close to a longitude and latitude.) With us are the Thurston Howells (that's how they introduced well to do married couples in those days) and Ginger Grant, the movie star! Come rescue us!!!" Frustrating. But they had a half hour to fill.

The question is why do three guys in their fifties care about superheroes.... or Gilligan's Island...or The Three Stooges...Bewitched.....I dream of Jeannie. (Please.....just once can I see the belly button!!!!! ) Well, it impacted us. As did Combat.....The Rifleman...The New York Yankees and our neighbors, teachers and friends. That's what life is. A series of small meteors leaving their impacts. The St Mary's nuns left many an impact.

Life seems so much faster and more complicated for kids growing up today. They're preparing for college at nine years old. I meet and talk to parents every day and a lot of them are worn out by their kid's life schedule. Overload. But I guess everyone adapts. Most days, when I wasn't in school, my parents may or may not have known where I was till they saw me for lunch or dinner. Certain rules were laid down and I had to loosely roam within those parameters. They were too busy trying to make sure those meals were on the table and the mortgage was paid. Not that there weren't dangers out there. Plainfield, NJ was a volatile town in the sixties and the occasional black eye or bloody nose came with the territory. Is it better today? Worse? Kids standing next to each other texting rather than talking? It is what it is. A trite summation, but there you have it.

Be honest. Is this weird? I spend a lot of time on the road and get involved in these wild fantasies. I'm a Pisces and a dreamer. My teachers reminded me of that on more than one occasion. On a trip down the Garden State Parkway or The NJ Turnpike I can be captured by aliens or stranded on a desert island or asked to join a great blues band. The detail I go into is staggering....as I realize I'm fifteen miles past my intended exit. In my profile I wrote something like "I can't escape this feeling that something wonderful is going to happen." I still feel that every day. Really. Many wonderful things have already happened. I'm a very lucky guy. But I still think that.....hey....what's that bright light in my backyard? Uh oh...they're he-eeere.....?

Peace

OMG....so many people to thank.......where do I begin.....

2010-03-07T07:26:00.000-08:00

"Overture....hit the lights.... This is it.....the night of nights." I refer you to the old Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck Fri night show. What kid growing up in the sixties doesn't remember that song?

Well, it's Oscar night. Doesn't affect my life....or probably yours....but I bet we'll watch for awhile. At least the opening. But man, there are people who live and die by this night! In an earlier blog (July 2005) I lamented on the lost art of hitch hiking and the dark turn it seems to have taken. Without rehashing old material, it backs into my brief brush with the Oscars. During Easter break in 1971 my buddy and I decided to hitch from El Paso, Texas to Los Angeles, California. We got there in one ride. He wanted to see an old girlfriend and I just wanted to see California. Our host dropped us off in Hollywood right on the Sunset Strip. It was about 10pm and the marquee across the street at the Whiskey A Go Go read "Tonight....Uriah Heep!! Remember them? The whole scene was reminiscent of Times Square...but with a freakier vibe. After all it was......OSCAR WEEK.......IN HOLLYWOOD!!!!!!!!

Gidget (seems like there were a lot of Gidgets and Sunshines running around in those days.) and some guy eventually came to pick us up and dropped us off at a mansion in Laurel canyon. As I remember, a friend of Gidget's struck it rich by inventing some new kind of cassette tape or something. A couple of friends were sharing the house, they were all leaving , we had the place to ourselves for the next few days and yes, it was OSCAR WEEK!!!!!! So there we were enjoying sunsets over LA from the expansive deck in the canyon and life wasn't bad. Butch was hanging out with Gidget a lot and I was walking down Laurel Canyon Drive and cruising the strip and other places by day. That sounds a little sleazy, doesn't it? Really, I was just takin' in the sights. The three of us spent one day on the beach with "sunshine" and the Pacific Ocean sparkled and laughed! But everything sparkled. It was OSCAR WEEK!!

A friend of ours from UTEP had a friend who also lived in the canyon and after a few days we moved in with him. He worked on the periphery of the movie industry as did a lot of his friends and life continued to be good. And it was OSC....well......ya know. Our host wasn't around much, Gidget and Butch had a falling out and we were running low on cash. What to do except get jobs as .....gardeners. The guy who owned the place we were staying in hired us to clean out his beds, do some trimming and planting and would pay us enough to fly back to school in Texas. Man, we kept steppin' in it! In the meantime, we had an interesting excursion with a Mexican taxi driver ( also covered in July '05 blog), spent a day frolicking in Griffith Park, and apparently had a number of near misses with California rock stars. There's a great book called "Hotel California" that covers this time in LA...particularly the Laurel Canyon area which was home to the likes of Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, The Mamas and the Papas, Jackson Browne, Crosby, Stills and Nash etc. In my trips down to "the strip" I was always picked up by interesting characters in fast cars. I wonder who they were....hmmmmmm.

But Easter break was over and it was time to get back to school. We were slated to fly out of LAX on OSCAR NIGHT!! One of the gang offered to drive us to the airport and man was he pumped! He was actually going to the Oscar ceremony that night and still took the time to drive us. We met a lot of nice people in LA. Even though the Oscars affected us not a whit it was hard not to get caught up in, or at least witness, the electricity in the California air that night. We almost hated to leave. But you know that feeling in your gut that says "time to leave?" Well, it was there. We were on the brink of overstaying our welcome but got out just in time. From the air Hollywood appeared to be vibrating.

Bill (the friend of the friend) picked us up at the El Paso airport and as we walked through the lobby of our dorm what was blasting off the TV but.........a Dodger game. Hey..... C'mon man ......it's OSCAR NIGHT!! Enjoy the show. Peace.

( Scroll down for updated info on Carrie)

Star Trek...Bruce Lee.....Wisdom

2009-10-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

So I got a new guitar last week. It's a Breedlove acoustic/electric and it's like a little slice of heaven. I started doing some solo gigs again and I had to make the move. For a good acoustic guitar these days you have to be looking in the $1,000 range. I was going for a Taylor and had just about decided on one when Mr. Breedlove crossed my path. A done deal.

As I was paying for my guitar at the Guitar Center counter I flashed back to a Saturday afternoon at Gregory's music store in Plainfield, NJ. I was twelve, the year was 1964 and my mother decided she'd spring for my first guitar. Eighteen dollars....with case. The strings were so far off the neck you could....well...they were really far off the neck. I loved that guitar. Developed some real healthy callouses with that baby. About a year later I got my mom to go for my first electric guitar...with case and amp. It was a $50 Crown guitar and a $30 Kay amp and life has never been the same. But the thing with guitars, amps and any musical equipment is.... you always need something else. My problem is I can never 100% focus on one thing. Bass took up a good chunk of time but there was always guitar, dobro, banjo, pedal steel, girls, drums, harp. Jack of all....master of none. Would I do it differently if I could? Probably not. But for now the focus is on the acoustic guitar and learning and refining things I should have learned and refined a long time ago. I was never one for practice. I could and can always play for an hour or two at a shot just for fun which I guess translates into practice. But the serious guys I've met over the years do about six hours a day. Can't do it. The solo venture I've re embarked on has a different slant this time. No backing tracks...just me and a guitar. Very liberating, frightening and a lot more enjoyable. We'll see. Still playing bass in a couple acts and got to play drums last week in a local bar. HOOT!!!! But still looking for that one real solid, steady bass gig. I'm starting to believe it ain't gonna happen. I don't mean Madison Square Garden. Just a 3 or 4 times a month money making, music making, thumping band. I've had it a few times in this life and it spoils you.

But man, I can't complain. Life is good on the river. I wonder where'd I'd be if I'd stayed on the corporate track. A lot more in the 401K but, I'll bet, even more gray hair, an ulcer and a lot of what ifs.

I am one lucky son of a gun. I've really managed to live life, for the most part, on my own terms. If I live too long things could get dicey. But if I take a final bow about when I should, things should be just fine. I had a friend who got through life without ever having a real steady job, lived with his parents till well into his fifties, got some inheritance when they passed away and then died a few years later. I'd always tell him, "Just wait....you're gonna have a tough road in the end. What're ya crazy....no 401K? You'll see!! Well he had the last laugh. Not my choice, but that's what makes a horse race.

As Bruce Lee once said, "The choice is yours, my friend." (He also said, "Be like water." Always liked that one.) I have arguments with some of my liberal friends about this. I've always been a bleeding heart liberal but as time goes on I'm bleeding less and less. Anybody can do anything....if they so choose.....and are willing to work for it. I'm convinced of it, I've seen it, it's my credo. Is it harder for some than others? Is life sometimes unfair? Is the playing field slanted? Do you hate people who ask questions only to answer them in the next sentence? Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. The question always comes back to me, "Then why aren't you on the Forbes 500, loudmouth?" Never desired it. Period. Believe it or not.

I have an earlier blog in here somewhere about roads taken and not taken so I'll leave that alone. But I like the alternate universe theory that says we live out every possibility somewhere...sometime. Ah...time lines. The things of which Star Treks are made? And the wonderful thing is....no one can say...... with absolute certainty......it ain't so. So, I guess somewhere, sometime, I am.....was..... will be.....center fielder for the NY Yankees. And I do look good in pinstripes.

Peace.

(Scroll down for updated info on Carrie)

Help!!!!!

2009-07-03T05:58:00.000-07:00

Linda's daughter, Carrie, is in a hospital in South Jersey. She had complications after delivering a baby girl two weeks ago. She's extremely critical. A large cloud is hanging over life. Please pray for her. Thanks

( Pictured:Carrie, her brother Michael and Linda)

(1 month later, July 19th)

She made it! A long road ahead. Thanks for your support and prayers. It's meant everything!

(Oct 4th, 2009)

Carrie's still in the hospital because of insurance red tape. Probably going home next week with a with a visiting daily nurse. Waiting for the call for a small intestines transplant at The University Of Pittsburgh. Hurdles still ahead.

(Oct 31, 2009)

Carrie's been home and back in the hospital three times. Currently back in Cooper Hospital in Camden. The longest she's been able to stay home without problems developing is about four days. Currently gall bladder problems resulting from her TPN. Waiting for the word from Pittsburgh to go for the evaluation and then transplant. Thanks for your prayers and inquiries.

(Nov, 24, 2009)

Linda and Carrie have been in Pittsburgh for a week and a half now. The insurance issues between NJ, Pittsburgh and Ohio (where Carrie will be staying with her brother, post evaluation) have been a nightmare.Thank God Linda's been on the case correcting everyone's mistakes and making sure things get done. Some of the problems are severe...... like NJ insurance and Pittsburgh insurance unable to decide who will supply her TPN, the intraveneous nutrition that she has to have ten to twelve or more hours a day. She's had to miss a couple of days here and there because of it. Not good! Just one instance, of many, of beauracracy gone wild! She's had some tests and is getting ready for a two week evaluation process . She was in patient till today and is now out patient for the evaluation. Then.....provided the evaluation goes in her favor.....we wait for an available small intestine. As of today Carrie and Linda are living together in housing near the hospital for families of patients. Here's to peace in Pittsburgh!

Dec 30th, 2009

Carrie and Linda are back from their third trip to Pittsburgh. Miles....and miles...... The evaluation is over and now Carrie is, or shortly will be, on the list for a small intestine. The co ordinator seems to think it won't be long.

Jan 19, 2010

Carrie and Linda left for Pittsburgh today at 4:30 am. Carrie has to have some tests that she probably should have had while she was out there during previous visits. She was due to be put on the transplant list anytime and just got the word a few hours ago that she's been listed. Now we wait for the call for an available small intestine. That'll be a good day for us and, unfortunately, a sad day for someone else. Whomever you may be......thank you. So Carrie's there for the duration. She'll be staying in Ohio with her brother, Michael, and his fiancee. They're about an hour away from the hospital and that's a good thing. Once the call comes in she's got to be at the hospital asap. Linda's been a trooper. A great mom and a wonderful partner. We're all lucky to have her in our lives. Seven months ago I promised Carrie this would all be over by Feb 19th. I don't know why I blurted out that date but I just realized that was my grandmother's birthday. Hmmmmm......

Feb 1, 2010

Had the first false alarm last Saturday. In the morning we got a call that a small intestine would be available sometime that day. I had a gig that nite and as I was packing up...around 1 am, I got a call from Linda that Carrie was on her way to the hospital and things were moving. Linda lef, drove all night and hung out at the hospital all day Sunday. The surgery was set for 4 pm. Around 3 pm the doctors decided the match wasn't close enough. The intestine was from a fifteen year old boy. Quite a reality check. His liver would also be donated.

March 13, 2010

This past Tue night the call came in. Linda took off for Pittsburgh around 10 pm. The surgery started around 11 pm and continued till around 11 am. Carrie has a new small intestine, said goodby to a gall bladder and appendix and is doing great this morning. God bless the donor (a nineteen year old Alabama boy) and family. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. A long recovery to come. But this is one feisty chick! Thanks for all your inquiries, prayers and support. Peace.

March 27, 2010

Carrie celebrated her 28th birthday on Mar 17th. She also had another surgery that day to remove a hematoma. She had a second surgery the next day to stop some bleeding. Since then she's responded extremely well to the new intestine and the future looks good.

It's ALL small stuff

2009-03-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

Around 1990 I was working at a Tae Kwon Do school in NJ. I'd just left the ulcer inducing fast track of the corporate world and my teacher offered me a gig. I'd warm up classes, teach a few, sell memberships, sweep the floor and do whatever it took to help Master Kwak keep two schools running. Master Kwak exemplified what I though a martial artist should represent. He was calm, reflective.........meditative breathing exercises were part of every class........and extremely skilled in his art. He would only demonstrate his skills during student tests but some of his techniques and breaks were amazing. He had a dry sense of humor, appreciated mine and was a good friend during the time I trained and worked with him. I broke my hand on my black belt test and I remember when I walked into his school with a cast on my arm he looked like he was gonna cry....then laugh...then cry.......ah.........the ultimate yin and yang.

A few weeks later I was preparing to move out of the area and leave the school. I was nervous but excited and Master Kwak and I had a sitdown. He was always good for some words of wisdom. For some reason life keeps reminding me of this conversation. My mom has just died after a long illness. We'd sold her home and I was leaving with no prospects except my band gig...which was doing pretty well at the time. Master Kwak sensed my apprehension and showed me something he'd drawn on a piece of paper he had in front of him. I'd seen it around his office but never thought to ask what it was. It was the Korean character for crisis. He told me the word is made up of two characters....one meaning danger....and the other meaning opportunity. Ahhhhhh.....grasshopper. I can't escape it because that reference never fails to appear at the exact moment of crisis/danger/opportunity etc. Harrowing, or at least, uncertain times, upon reflection, usually turn out to be worth the trip. I've had a few life challenges, just like you, and at this point I can honestly say I wouldn't change a thing. If everything didn't happen as it did I wouldn't be here.....now. And this is right where I want to be. There's still things to do......hopes....dreams.......become a better brother, uncle, friend....partner. And that's what keeps life exciting. The old what the hell is gonna happen tomorrow thing!?!?

I dig getting older. Is that weird? I see things so much more clearly than when I was twenty or thirty. One of the biggest lessons is don't sweat the small stuff, because ultimately it's all small stuff. I can't take credit for that but it's my mantra. Another bit of wisdom I try to live by is the Serenity Prayer. I'm certainly not a religious guy in the traditional sense and not much for traditional prayer but I carry a lot of spirituality around and this one hits home. Google it. How did I become acquainted with it?

The nuns in my grammar school would hit the parents up for the occasional ride to Convent Station, NJ. This was kind of like the mother ship for the Sisters of Charity. My mom got the call one day and I was recruited for the drive along. Turns out....it was my teacher!!!!! I guess I've been more uncomfortable but I can't remember when. As a thank you she gave my mother a small plaque which had the Serenity Prayer on it. My mom seemed very moved and told her that the prayer had always been one of her favorites. I thought she was just shinin' her but apparently she meant it. That prayer hung around the house for the next thirty years. I guess the vibe has passed on because like the sage words of Master Kwak, the Serenity Prayer always seems to pop up right when it's needed. I finally caved and put my own computer generated prayer together, framed it and it's in my music studio helping me to find the divine inspiration needed to write a top ten hit. That and Carole King's Tapestry album. Basically it tells you to be aware and ready when life comes at you. Recognize a good opportunity, etc. Good advice anytime. Clever one liners make life so simple, don't they? If we all lived by the bits of wisdom delivered by the Asian cartoon character in the NY Daily News.....usually right next to the racing results.....life would be beautiful. Every day he's got a gem. It's usually something about open your mouth less and your ears more. I'm stunned that the climate of political correctness in this country has allowed him to continue.

I really hate political correctness. It's just so righteously phony. I remember when Howard Stern was being interviewed by Tom Snyder and lambasted for all his politically incorrect, insensitive and usually right on the money comments. Howard's point was that everybody says or at least, thinks, this stuff. Tom said, "Yeah, but not when the mics are on." Hmmmmmm. I paraphrase..... but you get the point. Knock it off!!!!!! We can take it!!!!!!! Family Guy's my new favorite show. It doesn't apologize for anything and I love that. We're all the family guy to a point..We just don't have the nerve to admit it. Me included. I also love you tube and I'm on facebook. DON'T ask me to Twitter.

Well, a great thunderstorm/hailstorm just started so I have to get outside. First one of the season. And my electricity's bound to go out as it always does so I'd better save........

PS Gig this wknd Fri, Apr 3rd at Tiff's, Rt 31, Clinton NJ with The "High Bridge All Stars." Showtime around 9.

I can't believe I'm still here. So....what's next?!?

2009-01-25T12:52:00.000-08:00

I moved a mile and a half downriver last month...and have a new roommate. Y'know, you get to a certain age and stop questioning things as much as you used to. Ten...twenty years ago moving in with a girlfriend would have been a huge emotional crisis deserving of months of thought... what ifs...etc. Linda said she could make a comfortable home for us. No pressure. I took her word for it and danged if she hasn't made a wonderful home for us. I like to think I helped, but when it comes to window treatments and rugs.....and home stuff...... I'm like a new born pup blindly struggling in the dark. She MADE curtains. Well, not curtains.... but those things that hang at the top of windows. All I know is I heard a sewing machine and....BANG....things on windows. I came home one night and there's a long rug in the hallway. And it looks just like the rug in the living room! What ? How? (Did you know that the hall rug is called a runner? Go figure)

I have all my recording stuff set up. ITunes has said I can send them my music and....life goes on. Gotta find a band. This is the longest I've gone without a steady gig and it's a little scary. I've been doing some pick up gigs here and there but I need that steady thing. Looking at a calendar and seeing Fris and Sats blocked out is a reassuring feeling. Particularly the way the economy is. I've always used music as a second source of income and there's no time like the present. I can't remember when I wasn't in a band. How do people not be in a band? What do they do?

I went to see some old pals the other night. The Doughboys. Great sixties style band. The drummer was on my little league team, the bass player was my paper boy...you get the idea. They're from my old hometown of Plainfield, NJ. They're a couple of years older so we never hung out back in the day but they were neighborhood guys who got a jump on the band thing around 1965 or so ......played for a number of years ....reformed a couple of years ago and there you have it. Same song list. Same lineup. Very Yardbirds. (See Yardbirds pic. Can you name them....hmmmm?) Their guitar player, Willie, had some problems and died two years ago......great guitarist. Another guy slipped in and.... gig on, boys. This place I saw them the other night used to be called The Hullabaloo in the 60's. NJ had a chain of Hullabaloos. One of the guys from The Doughboy's had a poster of them playing there...on the same stage...in 1967. I used to go there all the time to see some great local bands. At the time the best I could do was high school dances, parties, etc.

I played full time for a number of years and the thing I remember most is how proud I felt when people asked and I would tell them I was a musician. It always got a reaction. And you could see that look in their eyes as they hearkened back to their high school band, or the marching band, or even piano lessons from the lady down the street. That look of....what if.......? But don't worry.......the grass is always greener. You're right where you're supposed to be. I believe that.

Right now I'm pretty sure I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Living on the Musconetcong River in Finesville, Warren County, NJ, with a beautiful woman who, for some odd reason, seems to really like me........ watching the geese and the birds, and the occasional fox....searching for that ever elusive perfect band.......writing music.....hustling people around by day....entertaining...or not....people on the radio one morning a week........thanking God for putting me right here, right now....celebrating my health...trying to treat the world and the people in it as well as I can...... and being extremely optimistic about the future. Why?......... WHY NOT?? Peace.

PS Gigging at Mrs Riley's in High Bridge, NJ the Sat before St Patty's day with some old pals. C'mon out. I'll buy you a green beer.

"Wasn't....isn't....this a time....?

2008-11-16T05:44:00.000-08:00

Just in case you've been on an archaeological dig deep in a cave in South America for the last year.........we've just had one mama jamma of an election!!! This was fun!!!!! I'm not a "political junkie" but keep just well enough informed via the Daily News, the NJ Star Ledger, the internet, talk radio and the nightly news to realize that no one really "knows". And there's a lot of agenda driven opinion out there. I think the checks and balances of our system, within the houses of government, for the most part, work. The old,"Say, what's that guy up to?" The gentlemen from the Continental Congress would be proud, and grateful, I'll bet, that their plan has held up. But I think keeping the other guy honest has taken a nasty turn into trying to stop the other guy in his tracks....even sabatoging him. No one will admit it but I'm here to tell you....the emperorer has no clothes!!!!!! Both sides do it.

Look, I've been a bleeding heart liberal most of my natural life but I'd have to be blind and deaf not to see that the media in this country is indeed....uh oh......LIBERAL!!!! Most talk radio is conservative. Most tv and print is liberal. Like it or not, that's the way it is, man. And knock it off with this fairness doctrine stuff. Guess what? Ratings rule. So waaaaaaaa!!!!! Cry me a river. My own bleeding heart has moved more and more to the middle as I've grown older and...wiser? Wiser meaning being able to see that everyone in politics is a con artist. A lot of these folks have good hearts and intentions ....ON BOTH SIDES..........but con artists nonetheless.

I remember when I was about twenty one and playing a gig in my hometown. One of the local politicos was there shaking hands and kissing babies. I kinda knew this guy and we were chatting about some of his plans...... which had drastically changed. I asked why and he gave me my first lesson in politics 101. He said he had to first pay back favors (not his word) to the people/groups that helped get him elected. Then he could get to his agenda, which, he assured me, he would. That was an eye opener. Favors, paybacks and the putting of one's own plan on the back burner can only intensify with the size and importance of the office. Which is why, I think, you.......I....had to look at the personality......and why my liberal finger, under direction from my liberal heart, pushed the button for John McCain. I asked myself one question. Who would I want standing next to me in a barfight? And there you have it. McCain's whole pow experience and his refusing to leave when given the chance spoke to me. I went Democratic the rest of the ticket but the prez was a righty. I mentioned this on my weekly radio show and heard from a bunch of irritated liberals. I had to say don't worry....be happy....you won. I'm cool....please join me. Because I thought all along that no matter the outcome it's a win/win situation. We have either the first African American president or the first woman Vice president. Either way, life goes on and my life, or yours, isn't gonna change a whole lot. It's akin to my feelings when the Yanks lose the World Series. Ahhhh dangit.....and......back to work........ 'cuz here comes the rent again.

My conscience dictated McCain, but this is.......ok. What say we get behind Barack. Keep a watchful eye, but could we stop the sniping, gotcha crap......the living in the past and depressing projections? Well if Bush didn't...well if Clinton didn't....if George the first didn't ....if Reagan....if Carter ......if.....STOP!!!!!!!! The guy hasn't even taken the oath yet. Like the bumper sticker says, "Either push, pull or get the hell out of the way." But c'mon...let's not throw tacks in front of his tires. Obama's failure means success for the right...just as Bush's failures mean success for the left. We've got to temper this crap.

Which brings me to this. When did my people, the left, lose their sense of humor and become the crotchety old men of the sixties? I was raised on Mad magazine, National Lampoon, Monty Python, Saturday Night Live and still have the occasional flashback to prove it. Ahhh....when the sunshine was orange. We've become Big Brother. The Democratic conventioneers seemed a little miffed and put out while the Republicans seemed.....dare I say it......fun......a party. And they were losing! I still love political incorrectness...with NO apology. The Family Guy is my new hero. What happened? Who threw the switch? Look, man, we're all in this together and as the late, great Jim Morrison once said, "No one here gets out alive." And wouldn't it be cool to see, just once, if we did all pull together, what we could do? That doesn't mean cave in or surrender your positions.... but argue from a position of tolerance and betterment....... for everyone. Can I get a Kumbaya? And Move On. org....you can stop your e mails now. They were getting a little creepy.

I was driving around on election day and covered a lot of ground. I voted for McCain early. But the turnout I saw doesn't jive with what I'm hearing on talk radio. Would it kill you to admit that a helluva lot of people turned out? Maybe it was only in my neck of the woods here in NY, NJ and Pa....but it was wild! There was definitely a feeling in the air. To quote Stephen Stills, "There's something happening here. What it is, ain't exactly clear."

So I'll deliver the same mantra now that I did eight years ago when my guy didn't win then, either. Watch, be wary, be skeptical, challenge, but when Barack falls down, which he occasionally will, how 'bout rather than putting a foot on his back we put our hand out and help him up. He's ours for four years. The dems have it all. Let's see what we can do.

Election day, and the events of the following days made me proud to be here and be involved enough to at least have have contributed what I felt was a considered vote. I was proud to be an American. Not necessarily proud of a lot of things America has done, but proud to be..... an American.....with a drippingly sarcastic apology to my college professors. ( I once wrote a paper supporting the Vietnam war for my conservative professor and one decrying the war for my Liberal professor. I got A's on both! And, if you hadn't noticed, I ain't no Hemingway. Am I a cynical sob, or what?!?!) This is an amazing thing we have....this peaceful transfer of power every four years. Seeing all the faces on the front pages and across tv screens.... the faces of people covered in tears.....people that may have been the target of dogs, hoses, clubs or worse, a mere forty years ago was....well.... moving. I don't know how anyone couldn't have been moved.

So buck up, John. You're a classy guy who ran a really atrocious campaign. I'll still pick you to be at my back when glasses start being thrown. Is the playing field now..... even? Probably not. But I think the slope is slowly decreasing. Peace.

These ARE the "good old days"

2008-10-26T07:35:00.000-07:00

Ah .....for the good old days. Were the old days actually that good? I think we tend to view days gone by with a litle help from our rose colored glasses. Remember the Twilight Zone where the modern day scientist (circa early 60's) gets fed up with all the noise pollution, crowding and general rudeness of the day and somehow, through the magic of the "zone", manages to return to the late 1800's? In an interesting convention the scene switches to silent..... with subtitles....... and, lo and behold, Buster Keaton pops onto the scene as the inept assistant. Our modern man at first loves the serenity of the past but then discovers he can't find any of the equipment he needs and..... yadda yadda...... he returns to the present, bringing Buster with him. Ya just have to buy into it. Buster hates it. He goes home. Everybody's happy. So what's the moral? I don't know. The grass isn't always greener? Be happy in your present circumstances wherever and whatever they may be? OK....I'll take that one.

In the early eighties a band I was playing with got a two month gig in Bermuda. Round trip flight, house, one meal a day, mopeds and a pretty good paycheck all included. Our only responsibility was to be on stage at 9:30 tuesday through Sunday. After about two weeks I'd done all the tourist stuff and covered the island front to back and side to side. From there things just sort of eased into.....life. I thought, man, if that can happen in Bermuda, I guess it can happen anywhere. Contentment really does come from within. Blue water and pink beaches help......and we had a rollickin' time, made some good friends, got really tight as a band and wouldn't trade the experience for anything, but it was still just.....life. I'd actually discovered this earlier, but forgot it. When I went to El Paso for college in 1970, leaving all my griping NJ buddies and flying off into the sunset.....ALONE...... I was stunned to find that all the Texas guys were sick of Texas and aching to head back east........TO JERSEY!!! The big question I got was how could I not have gone to Woodstock. Well, if I would've known it was gonna be a movie......

It's fall here in New Jersey. A beautiful time of year. Sunday morning. I was just sitting on the banks of the Musconetcong River, (which is right in my back yard......how cool is that?!?!) ......meditating, thinking, planning, dreaming....praying. Every day when I get up and rolling, I've gotten into the habit of thanking the powers that be.....God?.....for putting me here...now.... and keeping me and my family and friends healthy. I always ask for support and guidance and the ability to recognize opportunity....a big part of luck. Over the years I feel as if there's been someone keeping an eye on me. I think back to what I wanted ten...twenty years ago and I basically have it. And what I don't have is my own fault. But I'm a big believer in the best is yet to come....create your opportunities (luck) and stay positive. Don't be afraid to say things out loud. The spoken word is powerful. But don't be surprised if someone drapes a net over your head, either.

I believe.....recognize......that we're just here to learn, give and receive love, find and utilize our talents, while trying not to walk into too many doors along the way. If during that time, you've managed to fall in love a few times, make some people laugh, roll in the grass with a dog or two, climb a great tree, sing with a bunch of friends, laugh till you cry....cry till you laugh, sled down an icy winter hill, catch a perfect wave, make a diving catch on a grass infield on a beautiful summer day, skinny dip, help someone who really needs it and enjoy a variety of sunrises and sunsets from different parts of the planet.............well, my friend, I think that's really all anyone can ask. And if you've missed any of the aforementioned.....there's always next time.

"A crazy little thing called love"

2008-08-30T13:54:00.000-07:00

So the elderly couple is heading up to their honeymoon suite after a very succesful wedding day. Myron says,"You know, Ada I love you very much, but there are a few things we haven't discussed."

"Why, what's that, my husband?," Ada replied.

"Well, for one thing, I have to have dinner every day at five o' clock."

"Done!" says his dutiful wife."

And, he continued, I must have a poached egg every morning for breakfast, with coffee and orange juice........ and no later than eight am."

"And what kind of bride would I be if I couldn't do a simple thing like that for the man I love?," she coyly answered.

"And now my dear, surely you have some concerns as we enter this union.," says Myron.

"Well, Ada begins, I'm a little curious about your thoughts on........... sex."

"Ah, my love, Myron answers........infrequently ."

In a small voice Ada asks, "Is that one or two words?"

"Stop the world I.....well, could you at least slow it down a little?"

2008-06-14T11:06:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or is the world, with apologies to Al Gore, getting colder. I mean philosophically. Everything is about a buck. I'm on the road all day and listening to the radio is a constant challenge to avoid commercials. I understand about selling air time and the pay to play medium but.......C'MON!!!!!!!! Yer killin' me, man!!!!!!! I have two FM and two AM bands programmed and I can go through every button and still not hear any content. I mean....the commercials with the rapid fire disclaimers at the end..... And anything that may result in bloody discharge.....I ain't takin'! Y'know I'm starting to believe that commie plot thing from the sixties. Introducing weed and inane tv shows resulting in the dumbing down and apathy that's become.....us. The old get 'em from the inside. Well, it worked. Listen to the man on the street interviews. Half the people asked don't know who the president is. I used to sit back and laugh at this stuff. And, for the most part, still do........ being the cynical, Saturday Night Live, National Lampoon, Monty Python, Mad Magazine ex-hippie that I am. But, and maybe it's the getting older thing, the laugh has a nervous twitch to it.....like when you laugh at a horror movie trying to pretend you're not scared. (C'mon, I knew Tony Perkins was his own mother......right?) I love Family Guy, The Simpsons and some of the reality stuff but if I was a parent I'd be worried.

And what's happened to baseball? I barely watched any of the World Series last year, 'cause it was on too late. Why? Advertisers. Hardly any day games, no double headers, cost prohibitive to go to games, can't watch batting practice anymore, players won't give you the time of day, $7 hot dogs and $5.50 beers, thrown out as soon as the last out is made............can you throw a brother a bone....please?!?! You hear this brought up on the sports talk shows and all the hosts say is, "Well, that's the way it is now. It's a different time." Yeah....I guess. But I'll bet it's comfortable in the press boxes around America. In the parks around here the baseball fields are empty. When I think of some of the scroungy fields my buddies and I used to play on and then see these beautiful, manicured fields going to waste.....well...."the babe"would shed a tear. I think major league baseball's shooting itself in the foot. Maybe not the next generation or even the one after that, but sooner or later the well of fandom may dry up. But it's all about making it now.

I like money. A lot. But how much is enough? At what point do we think of the greater good? Baseball's a metaphor for everything. It's good like that. But it can get kind of depressing. And I'm an extremely optimistic guy. Even at the ripe old age of fifty six I'm still convinced I'm gonna be living in the house on the hill and playing in the band of my dreams. There's a difference between recognizing the reality that's out there and putting a little rose color on your own reality. I still steadfastly believe in the innate goodness of people. We are...have to be....our brother's keeper. It's just that the world is starting to look like the stark future of the movies. Remember the panic you felt along with Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" when he realizes no one knows him and his small town has gone to hell in a hand basket? Or Marty Mcfly in "Back to the Future" when he saw what his town had become. But it was only because they weren't there to pitch in. And that, my friends, is what it's all about. Bring some peace and kindness to your small fragment of the universe. Let the other guy into your lane now and then. Pick up a piece of garbage. Be kind to your wife/husband, friends, girl/boy friends, kids, animals, nature. Open your ears more and your mouth less! And when you're alone in your car....sing at the top of your lungs!!!!!!!!!! Try to see the big picture. We're only here for a cup of coffee.

Do I take my own advice? Man, I try. Really. And the older I get the more I do...... still not nearly enough. But now, I think, I recognize it. And that's a start. Now here's twenty bucks. Get me a beer and a hot dog and let's PLAY BALL!!!! Peace

"Look, up in the sky, it's a ....Byrd?"

2008-02-17T12:12:00.000-08:00

“This is Allison Steele, the Nightbird….come fly with me.” And fly I did. Those opening words from the late, WNEW, NY dj sent me off to sleep on a thousand nights in the late 60’s and early 70’s. She’d start with a poem, delivered in a low, whispered voice. The words poured out of my radio and I swear I could smell her perfume. Then wonderful music would follow. Songs that would end, well, when they were over. I’d become so used to the AM version of “Light my fire” that I was stunned to hear Ray Manzarek’s extended keyboard break come out of my radio’s three inch speaker. So, that’s how it was supposed to sound. Thanks, Allison.
Radio has been there for everything, hasn’t it? It was the soundtrack for your first kiss, trips to the beach, cars, bars, guitars and…… heartache. Remember the first time you heard “Walk away Renee” after someone broke your heart? Ouch!
In earlier years I’d overhear the voice of Jean Shepherd drifting out of my parent’s bedroom as he’d weave intricate tales of picnics, family outings, the Fourth of July, Aunt Edna or his third grade teacher. I’d laugh along even though I was a hallway and five stairs away. The next morning John Gambling and “Pack up your troubles” would waft in from the kitchen signaling the start of another nightmarish day with the Sister’s of (No) Mercy. That song still makes me cringe. The two mile ride to St Mary’s made Fred Feldman’s traffic reports moot, but it was still nice to know he and the WOR helicopter were up there.
When I finally got my own radio, I jumped ship to WABC, just like you did. Cousin Brucie, Dan Ingram, Harry Harrison and Scott Muni were never far away. Neither were The Beach Boys, The Ronettes, The Temptations and, finally, all those weird looking groups from across the pond. I could never explain to my grandmother’s satisfaction exactly what a “Byrd”, let alone a “Yardbird”, was. But it didn’t really matter. The times indeed were “a changin’, and, along with some of our favorite dj’s, my friends and I left the familiar, rapid fire patter of the AM band and moved over to FM. Goodbye Cousin. Hello Nightbird.
For the last decade and a half, Thursday mornings have been very special to me. The familiar smells of old records, tapes and turntables that hit me in the face as I open up the “HonkyTonk Roadhouse” have become like old friends. And I hardly ever trip on that third step leading up to the on air studio anymore. A lot of people have come through. Some stayed. WDVR is FM the way FM used to be. It’s
the kind of radio that Allison Steele and Scott Muni would be proud of; a forgotten taste of freedom; for all of us. Slick?. Nah. Fast paced? Hardly. It is, I hope, a small comfort zone in your car, office, garage, kitchen or bathroom; a feeling. It’s the feeling you get when you spot your old baseball glove on the shelf in the garage each spring. And instead of walking by, you try it on for a few smacks? Y’know what I mean? Well, if you don’t, I‘m afraid I could never explain it. But if you do……. I’ll never have to. Thanks for stopping by. Peace.

(The"Honky Tonk Roadhouse" can be heard Thurs morns, 6am - 9 on WDVR fm, 89.7 and 91.9 FM, Nj and PA. Streams online at at www.wdvrfm.org)

You may say I'm a dreamer.....and you'd be right.

2007-12-23T10:29:00.000-08:00

There's something about snow and Christmas. At least here in the northeast. How many Christmas tv shows end with "Hey...look!!!! It's starting to snow!!!" I'm at least as cynical as the rest of you but danged if I don't feel just a little choked up during "It's a wonderful life." C'mon man....the angel got his wings!!!! And when Scrooge sends that kid down the road to buy the goose? Well....let's just say my feminine side comes out.

I remember one Christmas Eve in Piscataway, NJ. It was probably around 1970 - 71 and I'd spent the evening with a few of the fellas at one of their parent's house down the road. Just doing what twenty year old guys do. Around midnight or so I took off and walked the mile and a half home through a fresh snowfall. The climb up Rivercrest Drive had a magical air. A night to remember. The snow made everything so quiet. Just me crunching my way home. Clear, clear sky. And stars. I stopped at the baseball park about halfway and pulled up a seat in the dugout. Again. (Did some of my best thinking in that dugout.) It was one of those moments you don't want to end. Moments that usually come when I'm alone. Or does it just seem that way. Floods of memories. Christmas will do that. Another Christmas Eve/Christmas morning an old flame and I were sitting downstairs in my parents house....probably watching "It's A Wonderful Life"... when a pal knocked on the window and he and his soon to be wife dropped in with a bottle of Amaretto. We did a few warming shots, laughed, wished a merry and said adios. Another moment....memory. Going out with my mom for a last minute Christmas tree and cringing as she worked the guy down from a dollar to fifty cents. ("Hey, what's he gonna do with it tomorrow?") Touche, mi a mama!!!

But that's what life ultimately is, isn't it? Just a bunch of little snapshots strung together. The big ones are great....graduations....weddings....vacations. But it's the in - between stuff that really ties it together. They say...and I'm badly paraphrasing.....that while you're planning for the future, or remembering the past, life happens. You could drive yourself crazy trying to decipher the coincidental lines of life. Remember the old poster of the Acid Cat? If you don't, I could never explain it, and if you do....no explanation necessary. Dayglow at its best. Roads. I was on my way to band practice one night in 1974 and stopped into Somerset Farms for a battery. Ran into an old friend who was also in a band......we reconnected.....combined the two bands and had a pretty good run for about five years. I could give you eighty five examples of serendipitous moments.....as you could give me....but it's still a hoot!!!!

And then there's the snapshots that don't lead to anything earth shattering, but that you just know are special and don't want to end. .....like the aforementioned Christmas Eve snow walk.

Linda and I spent a wonderful day in Central Park this summer. I've never had any special affinity for the park .....having been through it, but never stopping, oh about eight hundred times. But as belated birthday wishes must be honored, in we went. And dangbangit if I didn't have one of the best days of my life. It was a spectacular summer day and NY and Central Park were at their most entertaining. Bands, solo musicians, food carts, mimes....and who doesn't love a mime?.....Oh yeah....everybody hates a mime. Spent some time in Strawberry Fields. A few somber moments across the street at The Dakota. Dinner in Greenwich village. It was ALL good. We were sitting on one of the park benches in Strawberry Fields (really nice job, Yoko) and I remember reminding myself that this was one of those special moments. I didn't want it to end. And if some street folks didn't start brawling amongst themselves we probably would have stayed a while longer. Hey!!!! Give peace a chance, wouldja?

Think about your current job, wife/girlfriend, living situation, car, friends. How'd they come into your life. It's kind of cool unraveling these things we rarely think about. Like the great philosopher Ed Norton once said, "See Ralph...the SMALL details." (I refer you to The Honeymooners where Ralph inherits his "Fortune". Mayhem ensues......... homina...homina....homina.)

I think I use the phrase, "as I get older" a lot these days. But, as I get older, I see these moments more clearly...recognize them. Maybe not as they're happening....but soon. I look around the room. How the heck did I wind up here? Oh yeah...this...and that....and that other thing. What if Paul didn't get on the bus that summer day in Liverpool and run into John? Well, our day in Central Park may have been a little less special. Or would we have even been there? Submitted, for your approval. (Cue Twilight Zone music) We must appreciate what and who we have. A lot of people don't....have. And, as for you..... have a wonderful Christmas and peaceful New Year.

When you come to the fork in the road.....take it.

2007-10-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

I had a sad, perplexing, happy, reflective week a few weeks back. Get this. My friend, and bandmate, died. 55. My aunt died. 96. My new nephew was born. 0. And I spent a little time in Central Park's Strawberry Fields. (Nice job, Yoko.) One week!!! Dang!!!

Y'know I always thought I'd opt for the no funeral/ cremation thing. But there's something comforting....final....about a funeral. Especially the way we Catholics do it. Fallen or otherwise. It's not really for the guy in the box, is it? When you get in your car after the post funeral/cemetary/lunch /celebration to drive home, at some point you do the big exhale. You know...the same one you do at the end of a relationship, job, exam, close call. It's our body's way of saying goodbye, wrap it up, adios.

When I was around twenty one or so I got a pretty hard dumping from my girlfriend. I was ripped up. ....... calling and pleading my case. Of course, I realize now.....if you want to really push someone away....do that. We're funny creatures. But in the middle of my depression I took a walk down the street and spent a good chunk of the afternoon sitting in the local dugout. Ballfields...great places for clarity. And I was still close enough to reflect on glorious summer afternoons when I "owned" that field. I went home....called the girlfriend....told her I got it...wished her luck....good bye. Big exhale. She called me two days later. (Uh....sorry babe....too late.) So, I think, on my final exhale..... I want the works. Big wake, replete with posters, pictures, guitars, video, music music music and Catholic high mass. Full choir accompanied by a huge pipe organ. (Back off, Freud.) The burial thing I'm still a little leery of. Too many Twilight Zones. Remember the one....I think it was one of the later Twilight Zones... where the inmate at a prison makes a deal with the coffin maker to allow him to be buried with the next body that goes out...then the coffin maker will come dig him up and off he goes? A few weeks later the bell tolls signifying a death in the prison. That night our boy sneaks into the coffin with the fresh corpse and is buried the next day. After a while he starts getting worried, pulls the sheet back on his roommate and....... AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!..........it's the coffin maker!!!!!!! Oops! Creeps me out, man.

My aunt was ready to die. She'd suffered with arthritis for years and lost her son a couple of years ago. My friend Steve had cancer, along with other things, and even though he was never awake the couple of times I went to see him, I'd heard he'd had enough, also. I left him the latest Rolling Stone. My new nephew, Michael....was he ready to be born? I think he was. I think we're in charge of that. (I refer you to earlier blogs) But I have to think this post demise celebration through some more. Guess I'd better let somebody know.

Life really is a gift, isn't it? So many paths that can be taken. Choice. TOO MANY!!!!! It really takes me a long time to catch on. To so many things. That's why I think I've been allowed to hang around this long. And so many close calls. But...I'm getting it....slowly. And I think the idea is....be good to each other. I can't seem to get away from that. Affect people. Think of how many people you've affected....on purpose or otherwise. I can think of three couples who've met on band jobs I've played. They had kids....and so on. I was giving this guy a guitar lesson many years ago and noticed he played like a drummer. We had a chat. Last I checked he was playing drums with a show band in Vegas. It's not E Street but, hey! I gave a guy from my old hometown a ride home one Christmas Eve when I saw him broken down on the side of the road. Something anyone'd do, right? I see him about once every five years and he still mentions that. With enthusiasm. Like it or not, we're affecting lives. I can't wait to see how it all ties together.

So what have I learned? Slowly? Be kind. And good pitching will always beat good hitting. Peace.

Scroll down for gig info

Gig

2007-07-31T07:30:00.000-07:00

Sat, Nov. 17th , Ted Lyons will be appearing at "Christie's", Rt 31 in Glen Gardner, NJ (3 mi. north of rt 78). 6pm - 9..... performing folk, 60's, motown, originals, British Invasion.. .yadda...yadda...!!!!!!

..........And back at "Christie's again on Fri, Nov 23rd. Fun! Fun! Fun!(And only six months till Memorial Day !!!!)

(Karaoke and DJ to follow....10pm - 1)

And listen in Thurs. mornings on WDVR FM 6am - 9, 89.7 and 91.9. Streams at www.wdvrfm.org

What...ya gotta better theory?

2007-06-24T05:42:00.000-07:00

Do you believe in reincarnation? I do............. I think. How are we possibly supposed to get the hang of this life thing in twenty...fifty.....eighty years? I believe in a higher power and an order to the universe. And I believe we've had a hand in deciding our place within that universe. (And yes, I also believe in long wet kisses) It's a comforting theory and would explain a lot of the misery associated with the planet. Lessons. Do better next time. And let's face it. No one REALLY knows. As I've mentioned before, eight years in St. Mary's Grammar school knocked any religion out of me. The nuns never talked much about love or embracing/celebrating life. They did talk about the penalties if you missed a Sunday mass or told a lie or....snuck into the bathroom. I remember asking one of my teachers ,"If God knows I'm gonna be a mass murderer and thus condemned to hell, why create me?" They never had a good answer except the all encompassing, "Well, it's a mystery." Yeah...I got that much.

I think Jesus, the actual guy who walked on the planet lo those many years ago, had it right. I don't presume to know who he was.... beyond a good hearted man. Son of God? Prophet? Wizard? You decide. But at one point he says to his followers, "Look, you idiots....(I'm paraphrasing)..... if you get nothing else....GET THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! Love your neighbor as yourself." Could you imagine the world if we just did that? One rule. My first grade catechism was seventy five pages of rules. C'MON!!!!!!! The genocide that's been committed over the centuries in the name of God is mind boggling. I think the big man's gotta be a little miffed. Murder/religion.......never got it. I think we're all in for a big surprise. And a good chuckle.

Forgiveness, I think, is important. If nothing else, resentments physically eats away at you. You may be holding a lot of anger for an old boss, girlfriend, teacher, coach...........but they no longer care and the only one it's affecting is you. So knock it off. I know. Easier said than done. I have a few folks in my past that I thought I'd forgiven but every now and then the old feelings resurface. But I'm trying. And I think that's the secret. Keep trying. 'Cause it's all gonna come out in the "wash." We already have all the answers. We know what to do to have good jobs and security. We know how to lose weight. We innately know how to be wonderful human beings. But we don't. Well....a lot of us don't. That's why I'm grateful to still be around. And considering a lot of the situations I put myself in as a youth...I shouldn't be. Grateful Dead concerts and all. But everything happens just the way it's supposed to and....... I'm a slow learner.

I was always impressed by people who knew what they wanted and went after it in a practical way. The owner/manager of a club where I used to play was shooting the breeze with me during a break one night and told me how he knew he wanted to own a club so he took business and finance courses in college and....voila! My mind was boggled. I mean, I always knew I wanted to be a musician but I wish I had gone about it in a more....uh....mature way. I don't feel like I even started to "get it" until around age forty. Better late than never?

Did you ever see that Saturday Night Live cartoon starring the Man of the hour? It's rerun every Christmas and it's right on the mark. We have Jesus walking through Anytown, USA and he sees televangelist Pat Robertson on a TV in a store window. He's impressed 'cause Pat is saying all the right things. Jesus hightails it down to the studio and excitedly tries to get on stage but Pat just keeps talking and elbowing Him out of the way, not missing a beat. The hilarity is that the audio is real and the animation is made to fit. Jesus is bummed and has the same outcome when he runs into Jerry Falwell and Robert Schuller. Lots of zealous religious talk but they just can't recognize Jesus. So the Savior hits the streets again and stops outside a grammar school. The front door is open and there's a commotion inside. As it starts to snow he realizes he's watching the Christmas story.......His Christmas story...... being played out by the Peanuts gang. His face brightens up as Linus delivers a soliloquy about the true meaning of Christmas. Well at the end Jesus just turns to the camera with a big grin on his face and breaks into the Snoopy dance accompanied by the Peanut's soundtrack. You know the tune.

It seems like I always see this cartoon at the right time. Maybe post Christmas party gig, or after a get together with old friends/family. Or just after watching "A Christmas Carol. " (The Alistair Sim version, of course.) How many times do you hear during the Christmas season,"If only we could hang onto this feeling all year.......there'd be peace everywhere......." What're you, nuts? There wouldn't be peace anywhere!!!! But the secret is...there can be peace in your world. Why not? Who's gonna stop you? Do the Snoopy dance anytime you want. Now get off my couch and go home.

ps. Umm.......... I could be wrong about everything.

What am I rebelling against?.......... Whaddaya got?

2007-06-02T13:45:00.000-07:00

I don't own a motorcycle. I never have, and probably never will. Why? Because I'm pretty sure I'd kill myself. If I didn't do something stupid on my own...I can always depend on a deer to jump out or ......one of you. Motorists sometimes don't realize the size, weight and speed of a bike coming down the highway and...well...do somehing ....not too bright. I've been on both sides of that equation and the guy on the bike always gets the worst of it.

I was a junior in high school when a car pulled out from a stop sign and side swiped a friend of mine. His foot went through the guy's headlight and and a whole lot of ouch ensued. The worst part was he was the keyboard player in my high school band and we had a gig that weekend. Try playing "Light My Fire" with no keys. It ain't happenin'! Well, he made it. Cast and all. And did pretty well with the sympathy thing.

I was around twenty three...twenty four......when local boy Bobby Lella lost control of his bike after going over a railroad track and went airborne head first into a tree. Gone. I didn't know him too well. He was a little older. But he hung out at the local pub and the older guys were becoming less the older guys and just...the guys. Being in the local band always expedited the breaking down of barriers. Still.... it just seemed .....unfair.

Somehow I learned to "ride." Another friend had a bike and we'd ride out to this old construction site near a local college. Lots of hills and dips and...surprises. I was trying to climb this stubborn hill one day, gunned it, froze and went flying off the ridge on the other side. Came to on the ground with no shoe, no helmet and the bike on top of me. And... get this.... no injuries. My shoe was mangled and the helmet was scraped up and my buddies were scared s.....less. But no real harm. It was as if a message had been sent...and received. I'd contine to ride anytime anyone was foolish enough to let me get on their bike.

My friend Tom....gone but not forgotten.....would let me tool around on his Harley Sportster when he came around. That thing had a ton of giddyap. My nephew'd always let me take out his Kawasaki anytime I dropped over. Ah... a ride through the hills of Hunterdon County. Peaceful.

Probably the most interesting motorcycle experience I ever had was on the back seat of an Electra Glide out to Denver, Colo. Bob (not the earlier Bob) and his friend were heading out to watch Evel Kneivel jump the Snake River Canyon in Utah. Remember that scam? Well, I had a girlfriend? Ex girlfriend? Soon to be?.....in Denver, and a car with a frozen transmission, so I hopped aboard. It was October and it rained from Jersey to St Louis. I did a lot of the driving and it was a hoot. But I've never been so cold or wet in my life. And man, did the sun feel warm and did the Coors taste smooth when we finally crossed the Colorado border.( Those were the days when you could only get Coors west of the Mississippi.) The flight home seemed like pure luxury. Oh...uh.... it didn't work out with the girl. That band thing again.

I've played at a lot of motorcycle rallies...outlaw and otherwise. Always a hoot! And always full of surprises. As long as "Born To Be Wild" is on the list.....it's a party. I remember one rally I played in southern Jersey. We were a little late and as we were pulling in the guy watchin the gate proclaimed, "Hey, the band's here...we don't have to kill 'em." Thank you.

Remember the opening credits to "Easy Rider" when Fonda and Hopper are cruisin' down the highway and "Born to Follow" is playing and America's passing by and we were passing puberty and.......other things? Freedom. That's what the motorcycle is. Be it cross country or down to the corner grocery for a quart of milk. Freedom. Girls like guys on bikes. They won't always admit it. That danger factor. Girls like guys with guitars. I found that out when I was twelve. So..how' bout a guitar strapped to a bike. Hmmmmm. I didn't say I'd NEVER own a bike. Whoa...what's that coming at me....look out...it's....my mid life crisis!!!!!!!

Please.....drive safe. In the words of James Dean, "The life you save could be mine."

GIG

2007-05-01T06:58:00.000-07:00

Ted Lyons

Appearing Fri, May 18th, 7pm - 8 at the "Fri Nite Concert Series", Main St. Somerville, NJ (on the courthouse steps) Antique cars, vendors and music! music! music!

Thanks to everyone who came out to the Arc Coffehouse last week

C'mon In!! I'm right heah!

2007-03-14T12:33:00.000-07:00

"THE HONKY TONK ROADHOUSE"

(Puttin' the "pub" in public radio)

Does your life need a soundtrack? Well, mine does. This IS a movie we’re in…..isn’t it? Every Thursday morning at “The Roadhouse” I provide that soundtrack. It’s always there, anyway. Sometimes we just can’t hear it. In a nutshell, The Beatles paved the way for the British Invasion while Greenwich Village, San Francisco and L.A laid out the road signs. And I'd like to share my "skewed" perspective with you on Thurs mornings from 6am - 9 on 89.7 and 91.9 FM. And if you're not in NJ or Pa, try our online stream at www.wdvrfm.org. Just think about it. I'll bet there’s been a song for every major…and minor….event in your life. Remember the first time you got your heart broken and “Walk Away Renee” came on the radio? OUCH!! I’ll bet “Truckin’ “ made it into the play list for your first road trip. And if all the new singer/songwriters aren’t guiding you to work…..well….that’s where I come in. I also don’t mind telling you all about it …..(whatever “it” may be)….., always keeping towards the lighter side. If this sounds like a cool way to start your Thursday…….come on in…..and bring a friend. Peace.
tlyons@blast.net

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Stop the world....I wanna get off....sometimes.

2007-03-06T06:24:00.000-08:00

Technology is out of control. There.......I said it!!!!! Not that I don't enjoy a good chunk of it.....but......RELAX!!!!!! Do we need ipods that can hold 10,0000 tunes? How 'bout 100....200? I like music. A lot. I've been a musician since I was thirteen.....twelve? But I just don't need to carry music around and have it in my head 24/7. If I want to listen to music I know where to find it. It's around. Not far at all. All kinds. And I'm aware that it might be me. That I'm the nut. I've never owned good audio equipment. Over the years I've somehow acquired a stereo system, a couple of cd players and a fair amount of albums, tapes and cds. But I've always used these things as a means to an end. Usually to learn a song. That's why my records are beat to hell, a lot of my cassettes are tape snapped, cds skip and all my old cassette players have busted rewind buttons. You try to learn the bass part to "Revival." That's a lot of rewindin', man.

I bring this same mind set to instruments. I have friends who keep their guitars in "shrines". Rarely let them leave the case, let alone the house.....and don't you even THINK about touching it. Hey....c'mon it's a guitar!!!!! What would Robert Johnson say? Strum that bad boy!!!! I have a Martin D 28 that was a gift from a friend many years ago. I love that guitar. It's hanging on the wall right behind me. But it's been present at many a fireside jam, river party, porch party, house party, gig, in the back of my car, on my bike..........and it's got a few scars to show for it. I change the strings, wipe her down and back on the wall she goes. I give an occasional guitar/bass lesson and I always tell students to leave the instrument out...close at hand. When you sit down in front of the tube, pick it up and strum some chords. While waiting for the computer to warm up run some scales. As James Brown once said, "Owwww!!!!!, it'll do you no harm!" (Hey, did somebody forget to bury the "Godfather of Soul"or what? He's touring more now than he did when he was alive). I remember once reading about Paul McCartney tossing his famous Hofner bass to a curious reporter....and thinking nothing of it. The guy almost had a heart attack, but he WAS asking about it. See...Paul understands. Now, don't take this as a lack of respect. It's just that I see instruments, especially mine, as old friends, not icons. One night in 1976 I was playing at a club called "Dodd's" in West Orange, NJ. I used my Fender Precision bass to deflect a flying beer bottle. Carried that ding around till one night the guitar was stolen from the back seat of my car......along with a hand made guitar strap that I loved. I've always kept an eye open for that strap.

But, as usual, I digress. I'm just saying, could we slow down......a little? Y'know.... the old smell the roses/coffee thing. Hey......R & D guys........we don't need faster, bigger, smaller, brighter, darker, sleeker, more intelligent.....right now...today, do we? As the old joke goes, "Patience...jackass." And having said all that, I too, am guilty of "wanting it now." I got a new computer last year and this mamma jamma can do anything short of fixing dinner. Sometimes I float around on it just to see what's in there. Way more than I need. I don't need 75 games. How 'bout ten. I don't need four or five ways to play music or open pictures. How' 'bout......ONE!!!! I'm just not that bright.

But I discovered that my computer has a program to make cd labels, inserts etc. Now you've got my interest. Great for the home studio guy. But as I'm going through it I'm thinking, "Yeah, well this is good but if it could only do that........ Hey, it's not my fault I can't do both sides of the insert, it's my computer's." See, like the good bleeding heart liberal that I am, I refuse to take responsibility. There, I feel better.

So I guess the moral is, choose your poison. We all need something from this steamrolling technology. Someone wants 10,000 tunes in an ipod the size of a quarter...so...go for it. Someone wants a cell phone that can take a picture and immediately be sent to grandma's e - mail.......so....go for it. I want this. You want that. As my grandfather would say,"That's what makes a horse race." But doesn't it seem like things are getting exponentially faster? I just had a birthday so maybe it's the age thing.....but....I don't think so. Let's be careful. I refer you to "2001 A Space Odessey's" Hal. You remember Hal......that nutty, rapscallion of a computer? "You're not going anywhere, Dave. Sit down and shut up, before I RIP YOUR HEART OUT!!!!"......or something like that. We're getting there. The little paper clip icon knocks on my computer screen everytime I try to do something that can't be done and gives me that, "Hey idiot" look. Oh yeah, I can just imagine him and the little dog and tiny Einstein all back there having a good laugh.

Now, I like water. I love and need water. We all do. But I don't feel compelled to carry it around. We don't live in the Kalahari. Water is available. Close. I'll bet you could walk to a water source. You won't shrivel up. STOP!!!!!! So upgrade to the latest version of XP and put all your instruments in a vault. Plug your brain directly into the nearest music source and I heard it might rain so run.......RUN....... to the nearest grocery store for milk, eggs, and ....water. Must.........have...........water. Ahhh.... again... I feel better.

Solo Gig - Fri, Apr 27, at the Arc of Hunterdon County, 7 - 9pm

Annandale, NJ

Check out my archived blogs....if you dare..

and listen in Thurs morns 6 - 9am on www.wdvrfm.org

....could happen.......

2007-01-19T14:22:00.000-08:00

So this frog walks...er...hops.... into the First National Bank, down on Hialeah, and enters the loan officer's office. Mr Paddywack looks at the frog and inquires how his bank can be of assistance. The frog explains that he's considering some modifications to his lily pad, possibly a sun deck or aboretum, and would like Mr Paddywack's help in obtaining a loan. Paddywack explains that he's never dealt with a frog in this matter, but if some collateral can be offered possibly they can do business. The frog says," Well I don't really have any possessions...but...how about this?" He produces some kind of coin or amulet and hands it to Mr Paddywack. Paddywack looks it over and says, Come with me." They go into the bank managers office and Mr Paddywack explains the situation. He then hands the coin over and says," This is what the frog offered as collateral so I thought you should see it. I have no idea what it is." The bank manager looks at the chachki...rolls it over in his hand and suddenly jumps up and exclaims, Why, it's a knick knack Paddywack, give the frog a loan!!!"

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Later Than It's Ever Been

2006-12-29T13:04:00.000-08:00

New years 2007. Who would've thought we'd make it this far? 2007!!!!! That sounds like we should be flying around in cars and having robots do all the housework and....and....I don't know......future stuff. I remember when I was a kid and thinking of the year 2000. I thought, "Well....I'll be an adult with a wife and kids. And wear a fedora and have a jacket with patches on the sleeve and smoke a pipe." Y'know like Jim Anderson and Ward Cleaver and....my father. Didn't happen. Except for the married part for a while. The "new year" is one of those wonderful times. It's like spring training in baseball. Everyone's going to the playoffs. Everyone's batting .333. Everyone's turning perfect double plays. And then the season starts. I think the problem with New Year's resolutions is we tend to get a little carried away. Instead of trying to lose twenty pounds and walk five miles every day, how about five pounds and two miles three times a week. A lot more realistic. But there's something about a fresh start, isn't there. New baseball season, new job, new girlfriend, new car, new.....YEARS!!!!!

I mentioned in an earlier blog that I lost my parents on New Years Eve. About ten years apart. Go figure. So that night has always been a little weird, reflective....melancholic....to a degree.

I've spent most of the last thirty five New Years Eves on a stage in some bar/party being the "entertainment." And I liked it that way. Once you get past the early years of drinking till you barf, forcing a good time with your pals, and sometimes really having a good time with your pals....I'd just as soon be out making a buck or staying home with a friend or two. I've spent "the night" in a freezing Times Square, a stage in Bermuda, an emergency room, around a poker table, on front porches banging pots and pans.........just like you.

And then there's the countdown. When you're the band on New Year's there's a lot of pressure to get the count right. And there's always someone who jumps out around 11:45 and starts counting down. 10! 9! 8!....... Once that gets going it's impossible to stop. So I've always just rolled with it. But then ten minutes later there's Dick Clark on tv live from NYC and....hey....what the....? Uh.....happy new year.....again? And the playing of Auld Lang Syne and the kissing of someone and trying to have money in your hand. I think that's an Irish thing. One New Years Eve I was playing at the Dunellen Hotel in Dunellen, NJ. At midnight this girl comes up to the stage and plants one on me Well....did you ever have a boa constrictor crawl down your throat......with your girlfriend observing from the audience. That was a long ride home.

I remember one New Years Eve ('67 - '68?) when one of the boys got so snockered we had to bring him home in a wheebarrow and unload him into the back door of his parents house. I can still hear his sister's shrieks. Man, we howled over that one. Another New Year's my pals and I rode around in my Volkswagen looking for, but never finding ,a home for the night. Six guys singing Auld Lang Syne in a cul de sac in Piscataway. A Boone's Farm Apple wine....... and whatever else was floating around......... toast... and hello 1969.......'70? Y'know I still remember that one. We laughed a lot!

So what does 2007 mean anyway? It's just a number some guys decided on one day. And the Chinese are WAY ahead of us. But it comes at a good time. What with the cold and the fuel bills, and wet feet but....did you notice the days are getting slightly longer? Hello summer!!!!!! I heard a song lyric today that said,"Twilight is the loneliest part of the day." I'd agree. Except maybe I'd add ...."a winter's twilight."

I had a really nice Christmas. I intend to have a really nice New Years Eve. (No gig this year...anyone need a band?) And I'm a'gonna have a great 2007. Why? 'Cause I said so. It's that easy. I'm gonna drop five, walk more, finish my cd, get in a good band, date Pam Anderson......uh.....get in a good band.

Here's hoping your '07 is filled with dreams come true. Health, happiness....puppies, body surfing, snowball fights, trivial pursuits and.....love. Lots of it. Give it. Receive it. It's all you need.

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"Fall back"

2006-10-29T14:36:00.000-08:00

Today was a good day. We put the clocks back an hour here on the east coast last night, so I started off already ahead of the game. Today had everything. Music, cooking, old friends, wildlife and the NJ countryside. Got a beef stew going around ten o' clock. My mom's recipe. I jazz it up a little but after about four hours of slow cooking it's basically unrecognizable. At one point in my life I almost became a chef. Had the papers all filled out for the Culinary Institute of America up in Hyde Park but....well....didn't do it. And I'm glad I didn't. D'ja ever whack yourself in the eye with a spatula? And don't get me started on the nefarious meat thermometer. I see you sitting in the drawer....just...waiting. Almost finished up a song I've been recording for about a month. Just can't quite seem to lock it in. I know there's a groove there somewhere. But enjoying the process. Again, that being in the moment thing.

Got calls from two old pals. The one ....of many...beautiful things about the computer explosion is the ability to re connect with old friends via e mail. You can talk to people and yet....not talk to them. Perfect!!!!!! One was a lady from the old neighborhood who's now married and has five....ouch.....five kids. And is still crazy about her husband!!! Man, if you can find that.....! The other was an old school chum who says he's heard my radio show. He said he never thanked me for showing him around his first day at Piscataway HS. I can't say I remember, but he does. Gave me a good feeling.

It was WINDY here today. Branches, chairs, garbage can, little dogs flying through the air. "We're off to see...." Around four or so a calm settled in and I took to the streets. There's about a two and a half mile stretch of country road in front of my home that gets a little busy but is as scenic as anywhere I've ever been. There's a part that has hayfields on both sides of the road that extend out to mountains and with the leaves changing and the half moon just appearing and the sky a blazing blue.....well.......it really made me thankful to be right here....right now. I took a short walk into one of the fields and sat down. Never could resist a no trespassing sign. Then laid down. (or is it lay?) I was about as content as I could imagine ever being unti I felt a pair of eyes on me. Now I couldn't remember the raccoon rule. Is it the rabid ones come out at night...or in the day? So we were eyeball to eyeball about five feet apart. By this time I was feeling pretty social so I said, " Hello Mr.......WHOA!!!!!!!! Did you know raccoons could jump? Straight up. And then....gone. Guess he wasn't rabid.

I made my way home, picked up a few loads of branches from the lawn and had a heaping bowl of beef stew. I feel a groove comin' on so I'm gonna attack this tune one more time. Yeah.....this has been a good day.

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"You say goodbye...and I say hello"

2006-09-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

I turned on my heat for the first time last night. Never a good sign. Between the heat and the rain the summer seemed like a washout. No big highlights this year. I got down the shore once. Heading down to Sea Isle City ...not far from Cape May........to celebrate a thirtieth.....YIKES......wedding anniversary with some old friends today...after a gig at a company picnic. As usual, a gig is causing me to be the late arrival again. I remember driving down to their wedding lo' those many years ago. I'd played at The Capri in Somerville that Friday night in 1976 with my old band Freewheelin,' (That's an old band shot of me and the boys from around then....every mother's nightmare) and my buddy and I hopped in my VW and headed down at two o' clock in the morning. Hit Cape May before we realized we'd missed the exit. I thank God every day for getting my pals and I through those days fairly unscathed. Looking forward to seeing some old friends.

And said goodbye to an old friend last week. My Aunt Catherine, aka Katrine, passed away Sept 20th. (She's scattered thoughout my blogging) I was tapped to do the eulogy and I think....hope...I captured her. The funeral was at St Mary's in Plainfield, NJ. Katrine was baptized, married and laid to rest there. I tried something a little unorthodox and everyone seemed to get it. Katrine was always trying to get me to sing as a kid, even though she couldn't sing a lick. "Take me out to the ballgame" was her tune of choice. I was pretty shy about it. Sometimes I'd go in the other room and belt it out. Most of the time ....not. So I ended my eulogy with a solo, accapella version of "Take me out"....from the pulpit of St Mary's church. Oh, the memories as I looked around that place. I made it through...lump in the throat and all...and held the last note long enough so Katrine could hear it. Rest well, old friend.

And said goodbye, I guess, to the summer this week. Y'know...turning the heat on and all. But I'm a big fan of that indian summer thing and I still see some sand and surf in my future.....don't I? Hit the batting cages in Raritan yesterday. They looked so lonely. That's always a pretty good guage of how old I'm getting. I still refuse to go into the slow cage. I start in medium for two tokens worth and on to the fast cage, baby!! The fast cage was throwing a nasty slider that came in on me. The perils of being a lefty. But I adjusted and managed to impress a couple little kids. It's not that tough when the ball's ALWAYS in the same place. Caught a funky little carom right where guys hate to be hit. But I'll be danged if I'm gonna start carrying around my old cup. Ow.....Ow....! So a nice blister, a sore shoulder, hands a little wobbly and all in all a not too bad batting cage experience.

I'm gonna change the strings on my old Martin today. Make 'er look and sound good for the shore jam tonight. Always a good day when I get to play bass and guitar in the same day. Hopefully, thirty years later, I can find this place on the first shot. Saying goodbe...saying hello. Old friends. Is there anything better?

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C'mon....lighten up.......

2006-09-05T06:03:00.000-07:00

A gentleman was brought in front of the judge for the crime of killing an animal on the endangered species and protected list....the California Condor !!!!! Now, the judge was a fair man but also an environmentalist known for his lack of sympathy in these kinds of cases. After reading the charges the judge looked up and said," I don't look favorably on this sir. Could you possibly have anything to say in your defense? "
The man said,"Your honor, your reputaion precedes you but if you'll hear me out I think you'll agree I had no choice but to kill the condor...given the circumstances."
The judge said, "Go on."
"Your honor," the man said, "I was hiking in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains when I took a tumble and severely sprained my ankle. I found that I couldn't walk and spent three days out in the elements before I was rescued. As I was expecting to be out for just a few hours I brought only water and a small amount of food.... which quickly ran out. On the morning of the third day my hunger got the better of me and I managed to snare the condor and under these circumstaces felt I had no choice but to consume the bird. I deeply regret having to kill this beautiful creature but, your honor, I sincerely felt it was a life or death situation."

The judge removed his glasses and staring straight into the man's eyes said, "It is, indeed, a crime that one of this country's most magnificent creatures...the very embodiment of the grandeur of the American west...had to perish. But sir, your story has moved me. I see your actions were taken to sustain your life and I can find no fault with that. This case is dismissed. But having said that, I have to ask you. What does a condor taste like?"

"Well, your honor," the man said,"it's kind of a cross between bald eagle and spotted owl."

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Thanks for the memories

2006-08-28T14:52:00.000-07:00

My aunt Catherine....aka Katrine..........has been in a nursing home for the last few years. Considering she's hovering around her mid nineties she's in pretty fair shape, except for a nasty case of alzheimers. My grandmother suffered from this for the last few years of her life and besides the tragedy and hopelessness of the situation it provided some surreal comic moments. Because my father was partially paralyzed with a stroke and my grandmother was...not my grandmother, and my mom was working full time, I stayed around as much as possible. I was playing music full time and my schedule was...uh...irregular......but I'd spend many nights at the Piscataway homestead. One night I came home after a gig...around 3 am or so...and the dining room table was set for a feast. The best china, settings for.... oh... I don't know, ten or twelve. Problem was...there wasn't a holiday in sight. My grandmother was at it again. I figured I'd take it down the next morning but by the time I got up it was gone!!!!! And I don't think anyone believed that I'd actually seen it. Gram certainly wasn't going to confess. Sometimes she would take off and man, could she motor. She could barely get across the living room but get her on the open road...dang!!!!!.People would bring her home...usually a neighbor, unless we spotted her first. One time our next door neighbor and his son brought her home and she seemed unusually......"chagrined." She was a little embarassed but said, "Well, it finally happened." I said, "What happened." She said," The (neighbor and neighbor's son's name deleted for legal purposes) took my maidenhood." Well my old man started laughing so hard his teeth almost shot out. And after the dog ate his first set he had to take care of these. My mom just looked stunned and it was time for me...to get to the gig. Pronto! She spent her last days in a nursing home and, mercifully didn't stay there long.

My aunt, on the other hand, doesnt seem to want to say goodbye. Even though I know she'd like nothing better. Katrine and I were good pals as I was growing up. After her husband died she came to live with us on W. Sixth St in Plainfield, NJ. She eventually gave up half of her part of the house to my grandmother ...remember maidenhood...? Some creative redesigning led to a full, pretty happy home. No wonder I've always felt more comfortable with women. Now I get it. And they smell much better than guys. She and my mom would sit out on the screened in porch, down a cold one or two and...commiserate. She taught me how to tie my shoes (age five), shift gears on a '54 chevy , (age ten), how much better butter is than margarine, (my mom wasn't too happy I learned about that), how to peel and cook shrimp, and the rules of when and why you hit the other guy with the high beams. She'd let me watch the good stuff on her tv, side with me on putting off bedtime, and let me pal around with her in general. The woman was a hazard behind the wheel and not real light on her feet. She had a habit of hitting the deck and took a few trips to Muhlenberg Hospital to get a stitch or two. My father...the guy with the teeth..... was her brother and was on the Plainfield Rescue Squad so he could always pull some strings. She had a great sense of humor about herself and a laugh so unique that today only I can duplicate it. And now she sits in a nursing home not knowing where she is or why she's there. I don't drop in on her nearly enough but when I do...with a little work.... I can bring her back to Sixth St for a little while. Or to Ortly Beach, where my sister and I would make beer runs from the house to the beach for Katrine, my mom and their buddies..."The Bridge Club." One of the clubbers had a house on the beach and she'd cut us a deal for a week every year. Husbands, kids...the whole deal. That's where I learned to play Gin Rummy... discovered that two bucks doesn't go very far on the boardwalk and to never...NEVER...pour beer in a milk glass.

Every now and then on my radio show I play a song from former Jersey boy John Gorka called "I don't feel like a train anymore." One of the last times I went to see my aunt I walked in and said, "Hey Katrine!!" And she said,"I don't feel like Katrine anymore." Can ya see the irony? I started laughing and she started laughing and, oh my God, the two of us were doin' the Katrine laugh like a coupla nuts. Well, we have to be there...do our best... for our moms, dads, aunts .....etc....etc. They were there for us.

A friend of mine who has a parent in a nursing home said to me, "Ya know, it's funny....we start out in diapers and we end up in diapers." I have to tell you I got kind of a chill up my back when he said that. But because I was raised on Mad magazine and Zap comics and National Lampoon and SNL......and nuns...(oh man...more women...) I had to start laughing......chortling....gagging!!!! Just like Katrine would've.

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Let the sun shine......would'ja please?

2006-08-06T07:56:00.000-07:00

Well......it's August ........it's hot....and I'm adjusting to life in my new digs on the Musconetcong river. Y'know, I'm no better looking, wealthier or brighter than I was three, five, ten years ago but..... to use a term I can't hear without making a wisecrack or rolling my eyes.....I'm in a pretty "good place ." Again it comes back to attitude. Not the same kind of attitude I'd written about in an earlier entry.... the face you put out to the world. But your inner attitude. What you have to live with all day every day. How many times have you heard "stay positive, "or "look on the bright side," or the one about the"glass half full ?" Dont bring up the one about life "giving you lemons,".......that still makes me cringe. I like to keep at least one foot in the real world.

The fact is adversity is a way of life. And it's all relative. As I write this, Israeli, Iraqi and Lebanese homes have been blown apart and family members killed or maimed. American soldiers are checking into Walter Reed hospital preparing to receive artificial limbs....or.....not checking in at all. Makes that egg McMuffin that came out cold or the backup on the Garden State Parkway not seem so earth shattering.

Maybe it's that I'm getting older and all of a sudden the "light at the end of the tunnel" doesn't seem as far off as it once did, but I'll be dipped in #%&%* if I'm gonna walk around negative and depressed. Y' know people like that? Everything's someone else's fault. The world's against them. WAAAAAAAAA!!!! Who's fault is it that I'm not living in a million dollar home or driving a jag. I don't know...let me see...... uh....hmmmm.....ME!!!!!!! Not that I even crave those things...honest. Right now I'm living in a six hundred dollar a month apartment and driving a Saturn and I'm probably more content than I've ever been. It's a great pad and there's water about fifty yards away!!!!!!!

I love those positive sayings you run into. They're all true. If we could only do it. It's like losing weight. We all know how. Don't eat so much and get some exercise. Cut down on junk and bring up the fruits and vegetables. Wow...what a revelation. That'll be forty five dollars. Didn't say I could do it...but I know....we all know what to do.

I get daily life wisdom's sent to my e mail from a guy named Joel Osteen. I've mentioned him before. He's one of those Sunday preachers without the bible thumping. I'm as cynical as it gets when it comes to these guys but he's always driving home the message, stay positive, this'll be a good day ahead, let the other guy cut in front of you (I'm paraphrasing) and....say it out loud...uh....but not when anyone's around. I kind of stumbled on this philosophy a few years back and danged if it doesn't work. It doesn't have anything to do with religion but you can certainly throw that in if you'd like. When you get in your car and take off for work, or even on your way to the bathroom, just put a positive spin on what's ahead and where you are. And here's the secret. Do it everyday and do it no matter how you're feeling. Yeah....lie to yourself if you have to. Eventually a sense of calm will settle over you. It's ok to still get depressed. When I feel the blues coming on I like to relish it, wrap it around me, really feel sorry for myself...and then....let it go!!! Or try to. Not always easy. But you CAN change your attitude.......if you're aware of it. And exercise really helps. If you're a little down, take a walk for fifteen minutes, jump on a bike or stand up and do fifty jumping jacks. Ahhhh...... the endorphine rush.

Hey man, life's alway gonna try to beat you down. A year and a half ago life gave me a good ol' kick in the butt. For about two weeks I was as depressed as I've ever been. Poor, poor pitiful me. (I still have the hots for Linda Ronstadt) Then one day I just had enough, shook it of and carried on. What're you gonna do?!?! My mom had a long degenerative illness that eventually killed her. And took two of her legs in the process. She'd always laugh when people would come up to her when she was in her wheelchair and tell her how brave she was. She'd say, "Hey, what choice do I have ?" She had her depressed moments, but for the most part (I can't believe I'm gonna write this)....she made lemonade. OUCH!!!!!!

Alright, so what'd we learn here? JUST TRY IT. No matter how you're feeling tomorrow...when you're on your way to.... wherever...and before you hear the news on the radio...just just tell yourself...out loud......... how lucky you are for____________, what a good day this is gonna be, how youre're gonna cut the other guy some slack and..... keep smiling. The shrinks are saying that just the act of a smile sends a positive signal to your brain. Or maybe I made that up. I don't remember. But y'know what... it's contagious. Try this everyday for a month. At least people might think you're really weird. And that alone is worth the price of admission.

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"A Summer Place"

2006-07-04T03:55:00.000-07:00

The 4th of July!!!!! Does this mean the summer's half over? I haven't even gotten a toe in the ocean, eaten a greasy sausage sandwich or had a ride on the "Wild Mouse." C'mon!!!! Slow down!!!! This is another one of those holidays that doesn't call for a whole lot of effort on our part.....unless you're holding the barbecue. It's also a holiday where the meaning sometimes gets lost. A few hundred years ago some folks got together and decided they'd had enough of King George and his taxes. A lot of brave, committed people died in the next few years. And here we are. Like Christmas, Memorial Day, Easter, Thanksgiving.....we forget. Try to squeeze in a minute or two to reflect on what the 4th is all about. It'll give you a proud feeling in your belly.

I've had a lot of rockin' 4th's. From selling flags in the Plainfield parade, to a variety of band gigs, to almost blowin' my fingers off a number of times..........yeah......fun!!! For twenty two years I had a gig at the Piscataway HS football field..... with the same band. It was sad watching family members "fall away" over the years. Some wonderful memories...that I think I just want to keep in my head. Today I'll be playing at Solitude house in High Bridge, NJ. with a couple of friends. Second year in a row. New tradition? But back to the Plainfield Fourth of July parade. This was a big one. The Philadelphia Mummers would show up!!!!!!! Those boys rocked. One parade in particular stands out. My father was on a float with the Plainfield Rescue Squad..... my future guitar teacher was on a float playing with "The Chevelles" (soon to be "The Critters"...... remember "Younger Girl?" Sure you do.) And I sold a flag to a girl I'd be sitting with in the balcony of the Strand Theater in a few weeks. A box of flags worked almost as well as a guitar! The Chevelles came back to the Rescue Squad after the parade and performed. What a day. Life was never quite the same.

I just moved to Bloomsbury, NJ over Memorial Day wknd.....right on the Musconetcong River and a few miles from the Delaware. Last week mother nature let us know she's still around. The neighbors assured me we wouldn't get flooded out and they were right. A lot of other people weren't so lucky. Most bridges between Pa and NJ flooded . A mess all around. And I had a gig cancelled. Woe is me. See....it's all relative. I'm a big believer in the count your blessings thing. Try it.

So life has taken another turn. This is fun, isn't it? As I look back I can almost see a hand guiding me from here to there. I can never see it at the time, but reflection is a wonderful thing. When you look at the big picture.... things work out. Not always the way you'd like....but it seems....for the best. I've always liked the idea that life is a cosmic joke, and this is merely our time on stage. I still have a lot of questions.......

Well...have a hot dog, suck up a cold beer, wave some sparklers, put your arms around you family and friends and remember a group of incorrigible rebels who roamed the forests of the east coast lo' those many years ago. Thanks boys. Happy 4th of July!!!!! Le's do it again next year.

Scroll down for gig info

"GIGS"

2006-06-09T17:11:00.000-07:00

Ted Lyons
Folk/Rock, 60's R n R, Originals

"Summer's here and the time is right for dancin' in the street."

Sat, June 3rd & Sat June 17th, 7 pm - 10
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Tues, June 20th, 7 pm - 8
Manville Public Library, Manville, NJ
(w/The Plum Run Band )

Sat, July 1st, 8 pm - 11
Raubsville Inn Rt 611, Raubsville, PA

Tues, July 4th, 2pm
Solitude House, High Bridge, NJ
(w/ The Plum Run Band)

Fri, July 21st, 7 pm - 10
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Fri, July 28th, 7 pm - 8
Main St, Somerville, NJ, "Concerts On The Lawn"
(at the library)

Sat, Aug 5th, 6:30 pm - 10,
Luigi's Rancho, Rt 519, Belvidere, NJ

Fri, Aug 11th, 7 pm - 10
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Sat, Sept, 9th, 5 pm - 8
Holland Twp School, Rt 519 Milford/Holland, NJ Twp,
(w/The Harrison Brothers Band)

Sat, Sept 16th, 6:30 pm - 10,
Luigi's Rancho, Rts 519 & 46, Belvidere, NJ

Fri, Sept 22nd, 7 pm - 10
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Tues, Oct 10th 7 pm -8:30

Manville Public Library, Manville, NJ

w/The Plum Run Band,

Fri, Oct 13th, 7 pm - 10
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Fri, Nov 10th, & Fri, Nov 24th, 7 pm - 11
"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Fri, Dec 15th, 7 pm - 11

"Christie's", Rt 31, Glen Gardner, NJ

Sat, Dec 23rd, 6:30 pm - 10

Luigi's Ranch-o

Rt 46, Belvidere, NJ (just west of 519)

Listen in Thurs mornings 6am - 9 on WDVR 89.7 fm & 91.9 fm
(streams online at www.wdvrfm.org.)

Contact : tlyons@blast.net

"I KNOW I can still hit the curve"

2006-04-18T16:13:00.000-07:00

"The greatest risk is taking no risk at all."This (in my own scrawl) proudly hangs in my kitchen taped to a cabinet door. I'm not sure when or where I first heard this....or even if I got it right... but AMEN Lord, I'm a believer!!!!!!!! As Soupy Sales might say, "Now what do we mean by that?" What we....I...mean by that is that the fear you experience just before you jump off that cliff is nothing compared to the regret you'll have for the rest of your life if you don't. Got it? The older I get the less inclined I am to worry about what people think. Not the jumping off the cliff stuff. That never really bothered me. I still have a nice scar on my foot from being the first one off the cliff at Chimney Rock Reservoir. Not quite as deep as we'd thought. But we moved down a few yards and all was cool. And I only bled for five or ten minutes. I had a definite crazy streak going through me as a kid/young adult/older young adult. Putting me, my body, on the line...no sweat. Putting "me" on the line....challenging. Public speaking, performing, being in the spotlight....these are my "cliffs."

I think the turning point for me was around 1985 or so. I had a job that would take me into NYC once or twice a week and If I had time to kill I'd usually wind up on 48th St.... guitar store capital of the world. Well this one day I'm parked by Manny's Music and I notice a sign on the door of the Cort Theater....next door to Manny's...... Open Auditions for "Cats" 2pm. How many different roads do we have the opportunity to take in life? If you went to that college instead of this one, took that other job, asked HER out, played with the other band, went out, stayed home, original, extra crispy.....STOP!!!!! This concept can boggle the mind. But we're not static creatures. Move we must. Some (me) just a little slower than others. A lot of times I feel like I'm living life in a movie...like THIS move is really important...life changing....CUE THE ORCHESTRA! It's usually not, but sometimes...it is! And sometimes when you feel like you're just going along for the ride...to kill a few hours...BAM... that's the one that whacks you.

So around 3:30 I'm on stage at the Cort Theater with seven or eight other guys. Did you ever feel like you were in a roomful of tuxedos..... and you were a pair of brown shoes? This was just like you see in the movies. Mine was the third group to go out. Stage lights in your eyes and disebodied voices coming out of the audience area. I was wearing jeans and a t shirt so when the "voice" asked me to do a pirhoutte... I Just looked at all the latex and sweat bands and leg warmers up there on that stage with me and started laughing. I mean...c'mon! My girlfriend at the time was a ballet dancer so I knew what he wanted, and I could've given him my three stooges pirhoutte that I'd do for my buddies in my living room after a night out but I didn't think this was the time or place for that. But before I could do much of anything the "voice " said, "What're you a singer?" "Uh, yeah, I'm a singer." And I launched into the only song that seemed appropriate. "They say the neon lights are bright, on Broadway....on Broadway." Great acoustics in that theater. My mantra has always been, (and I've never been afraid to share it with anyone who wants to listen)..... if you're gonna make a mistake....make it LOUD! I let it rip and the "voice" let me finish a whole verse and that was all I really knew anyway. So with a florish and a bow and a mighty "hi ho Silver"...oh...and a disembodied "We'll be in touch".... my group left the stage. Can you believe it? I never heard from them. I had some nutty notion that I may have fit just a "type" of cat they were looking for. I didn't apparantly....but I might have. And there it is! I've never regretted for a minute going to that audition. It makes a pretty good story and sure beats the feeling I'd have carried around if I didn't.

I hate to say " the older I get" again, but the older I get the more aware I am of roads, opportunities. They're all over the place. Sometimes you need help to see them. I started doing a solo gig about a year and a half ago because my friend Lucy wouldn't let me not do it. I like to think I would have eventually done it anyway, but who knows? I wasn't really frightened the first time out. More like....well hell, this can't really be happening. I'm a bass player. I need people on the stage. I...I....surreal, man. Then the first tune. First, second, third set. Night over and...survival. Now about twenty gigs in I'm diggin' it. And what's the worst that can happen? Kinda the same feeling on my first radio show. As the Star Spangled Banner was playing I'm imploring my feet to run...run.....run like the wind!!!! But the movie was to stay there, stumble through a radio show and thirteen years later I'm still at it.

Sure there's things we can't do. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to find out where the line is. I'd love to be the Yankees center fielder. Impossible, I know. But I'll bet if I was driving up the Deegan Expwy in the Bronx one day....and there was a banner hanging outside the Stadium that said "Open Call For Centerfielders".......I'd pirhouette in there and....Hey!...it's my movie!! Peace.

"Hey, beats the alternative..."

2006-02-27T17:10:00.000-08:00

I had a birthday last week.....my fifty fourth to be exact. Hey man, it just happened. No hoopla. Did my radio show in the morning. Went to work....came home. A friend took me out to dinner a few days before. Got a couple of wishes the day of. I'm not good at mentioning my birthday. I don't like a fuss...... I think. But you know that feeling you get...... that by the end of the day if your birthday hasn't really "happened" you get a little depressed? I've been lucky. I've had all kinds of birthdays. A couple of surprise parties...three .....and one I even helped plan. Not my idea. The other two I suspected strongly. Had a heart stopper one time. When I moved from Plainfield to Piscataway in eighth grade my pal Jimmy Lyons (no relation) threw me a humdinger. Not birthday related but still a tongue swallower. It almost didn't come off 'cause he was having a heck of a time getting me to his house. But he pulled it off. Alright Jimmy.

This last one I had a solo gig the day after. It was at a cabin in the woods of Hunterdon County that an organization called The Arc turns into a coffeehouse once every few months. It's a wonderful room for a bash. Nice wood floor....cool stage...great acoustics. Reminiscent of any "sock hop" you ever went to. (Did I just write....sock hop?) They bus the crowd in so it's empty ten minutes before showtime, then packed for two hours, then empty ten minutes after showtime. I liken it to a Fellini movie. Nice crowd and the Arc folks are great. I was sitting there about an hour before....no one around....a lot of creaking and wind and cold. A wave of depression settled over me like a fur coat. And that's not me. But this time I wore the coat for awhile.... and then the buses pulled up, the music rolled, packed up, hung a little with the Arc folks and left feeling....satisfied. My father and I used to have this birthday ritual. I'd bust on him for getting old and he'd say, " Hey, beats the alternative." Amen. I've come to terms with"the alternative." I never bought into the whole punishment, burn in hell thing. You're telling me, (I'm talking to all my old Catholic school teachers now) that if I missed church on Sunday I'm gonna burn in hell for eternity? ETERNITY!!!! That's a long time! And this from a God who loves us. Could you imagine...... But I love watching a good Sunday preacher. Not because I buy into it, I just enjoy the snake oil salesman part. A good chunk of the message resonates. It's just the messenger I'm not too sure of. How 'bout Jimmy Swaggart? Now that's entertainment. He brought his message with a sountrack. What a great band...and all Peavey equipment. He's a cousin to Jerry Lee Lewis and Mickey Gilley. Unfortunately he had a little trouble in a hotel room somewhere down south but hey.... we're only human. That's the problem with too much finger pointing. Eventually it points back. There's a guy out there that I kinda like named Joel Osteen. He wrote a book, "Your Best Life Now." He's a Sunday preacher who doesn't bible thump a whole lot and just has a positive message. Give a little. Be good to your friends, neighbors, kids.....and stay positive. I'll buy that. Now don't disappoint me down the road, Joel. "Fame....I'm gonna live forever........."

But you know what's even better than celebrating your birthday? Celebrating the birthday of someone you really care about with that someone. Getting the right gift....the right restaurant....hotel....B&B......HAAAAA-AAAAAAY!!!!!! Nothin' better.

Y' know, I like being fifty four. Everything about it. I like "now." I like current music, my current job, women my own age, where I live, friends my own age. Hopefully all of these things will move to the next level...SOON!!! Reflection is good....necessary. But you don't want to be Patty Duke in "Valley of the Dolls" wandering around a bar trying to convince people that you used to be somebody. Of course, first you have to be somebody so that won't be a concern for most of us.

I got together with a couple of old friends over the weekend. We played some old songs, laughed about old times, drank some old....er...cold beer, ate, belched.....all the stuff guys do when they're on their own. Man, I'm glad I went..... almost didn't. There's nothing better than being around people you have a history with. You can't get away with anything.

Birthdays. Ain't they a kick in the butt? "Talkin 'bout my generation", "When I'm sixty four", "Don't trust anyone over thirty"..... HA!! "One for my baby...and one more for the road." Friends....family. ....dogs....cats. "In my life....I've loved you all."

That's Right......I'm Bad

2006-01-28T09:05:00.000-08:00

Attitude. You can have attitude without confidence, but confidence begets attitude. How 'bout that? "Young man, you'd better change your attitude"...... "Boy, that chick's got an attitude".......Mr T.... BA..... Bad attitude. I learned early on that attitude can make or break you.

I went to St Mary's Grammar School, Plainfield NJ, in the late fifties and early sixties. Plainfield, like the rest of the country, was feeling the beginnings of social unrest. Here was my plight. From about third grade on I used to walk home from school.....about a mile or so. The problem was that students from Hubbard Junior HS and Plainfield HS were walking in the opposite direction..and they didn't seem to like me too much. Maybe it was the uniform, but everyday it was something. Spit on, robbed, punched or just harassed. I got pretty good at smelling trouble and knowing escape routes. Did you ever see the Seinfeld where George discovers that if he walks around looking angry and agitated all day no one bothers him. It works!! If trouble was coming my way I'd kind of look down...not away.....and mumble to myself. If anybody said anything I'd give them my Elvis sneer and a look that said, "Hey, I got no time for you, pal!", pick up the pace a little and keep an eye out for a convenient escape route. I'd be dealing with this every day so I was used to it, but about half the time a friend or two would be with me and they'd be a little nervous. If a "situation" was developing they'd say, "Teddy, do the Rin Tin Tin story." I don't remember the story now but I'd start talking and gesturing and they'd all be listening intently, apparantly oblivious to anything else and we'd usually skate. Attitude.

It got to the point where I'd abandoned the escape routes, except in dire circumstances, and instead used guile, cunning, chutzpah and, of course, attitude. I found that a bloody lip is preferable to that feeling you get in your stomach when you cut and run. But a good escape from a no win situation can also bring a bit of satisfaction...discretion being the better part of valor. I remember so clearly a snowball throwing incident. This was after I'd moved to Piscataway and my cohorts and I had just unloaded and were getting ready to fly. For some reason I didn't run. I stood my ground on the frozen outfield of the Knollwood School baseball field and watched my friends take off, their frozen breath in the air spelling the words, "Move it, jackass." I wasn't coming this time. Don't know why. The first pursuer flew by me and here came his pal right behind him. I wasn't looking for a fight. When you're fourteen and the competition is seventeen or eighteen you try to avoid that. I was simply gonna adopt a certain attitude and explain to the gentleman that we merely....WHAM!!!!! Y' know, Daffy Duck was right. You really do see stars. The next thing I knew my buddies were standing over me laughing hysterically. They'd escaped and I had a fat lip. But I didn't have that feeling in my stomach

You've heard the term "adrenaline rush." D'ja ever feel it? It is so cool. There are bushes and fences I've leapt in the back yards of Plainfield and Piscataway that I never could have cleared without the big A. I've outrun guys on the football field who should have caught me but for the surge. It's like your body goes into fifth gear....like an angel is giving you a gentle push and lift. It's really very spititual. As adults we usually don't get a chance to experience a good adrenaline rush. Or if we do, once again it's in dire circumstances. Clear! Clear!

One of my favorite expressions is "pick your battles." This just means make sure it's worth it. Do you really want to argue with the grocer over how he's bagging? Or with your girlfriend 'cause she's ten minutes late? Maybe you do. You could be arguing with everybody all day. C'mon! And most times you can avoid a situation with...attitude. Y'know who had attitude? Superman. Not George Reeve, the TV Superman, or, as far as I could tell, the comic book

Superman..... but the Saturday morning cartoon Superman. My father and I would watch George Reeve and be amazed that all he did was put on a business suit and a pair of glasses and everyone was fooled. But the cartoon Superman lowered his voice, adopted a swagger, did the little hair thing and look out bad guys. Apparantly the radio Superman's whole persona was attitude. Makes sense.

I have a profound respect for men like Martin Luther King, Gandhi.....Jesus.. They knew they were in for a whuppin' but faced it without raising a hand. Passive resistance. The biggest man with the biggest club can't beat that. I don't think I would have had the nerve to walk with a group of demonstrators down a Selma street in the sixties. That takes a certain breed. People with foresight, a ton of guts, a feeling of "right" and, of course, attitude. The people with the hoses....the clubs...the dogs....knew they couldn't fight that attitude for long. If you've never seen the movie "Braveheart", rent it. Everyone has fear. Some just cover it better than others.

I've sat in with a lot of different bands or played by myself over the years in situations where I knew I wasn't

as prepared as I should have been but attitude's always pulled me through. Show no fear! (this works with angry dogs, too) I used to say faking it, but that's not really it. It has to be in there somewhere or you wouldn't have put yourself in that situation to start with. You take a deep breath, chug on through and when it's over, whatever the result, you won't have that feeling in your stomach. Everyone's got hurdles to clear, some larger than others. But they're usually not insurmountable, nor as high as they look. Attitude. Anybody here......seen my old friend Martin?

If you LOOK like you know what you're doin'......

2006-01-17T11:54:00.000-08:00

A few years back two pals and I had a band called The Firecreek Band. Not a great band, but mobile, huge repertoire, and an easygoing familiarity that kept egos in check and brawls to a minimum. We were together darn near twenty years, on and off. Side projects would split us up for awhile but sooner or later the call to action would come. Lots of interesting times with those boys. We played a lot! My friend Tom, whom I met while I was playing with the aforementioned Freewheelin, checked out in '98. Way too young. He used to come see the band....yadda, yadda......Firecreek was hatched.

But this isn't about Tom, or Firecreek, but about confidence. In the early eighties we were lucky enough to get a two month gig in Bermuda. Ever been to Bermuda? Perfect. Expensive.....but perfect. We were playing at a place called The Robin Hood Pub. John Lennon used to hang out there while he was living in Bermuda working on Double Fantasy. The title comes from a flower in the Bermuda Botanical Gardens. Many a break time we'd sit in the "John Lennon " booth and.....contemplate. The movie "The Deep" was filmed there. The manager of the pub got a gig working as a gofer on the set.....and picking up Jacqueline Bissett every morning. I wish I could tell you more about that. Nick Nolte would get snockered and sit on the front steps of The Robin Hood and cry. Yeah......good times! My point........ah....confidence.

Right around the time we were playing there the Men At Work song "Down Under" came out and was huge. A guy who would hang out at the Pub soon started bartending there and we got pretty close with him.....a real likeable sort. We'd be messing around with "Down Under" and Grant would kind of be singing along and we finally convinced him to get up and sing it on stage with us. Hell, everybody else was! The first time he snuck up and hung around the back of the stage with his back to the audience...barely audible. But he got a great response 'cause everyone loved him. We were playing six nights a week and the Grant thing would happen almost every night. It would start with one or two people doing the "Grant Chant" and soon the place would be rockin' and we'd have no choice but to kick it in. The Robin Hood was more of a locals place but the cruise ships would dock two blocks away and baby give me a roomful of happy tourists egged on by happier Bermudians to make the night move. Grant was a phenom. Enter....confidence.

Grant would let the first couple of half hearted "Grant Chants" go over his head and just keep serving. When the chant hit its stride at some point, an unspoken thing would happen between us and Grant. We knew it was time and "um..dada...um da....um dada." But Grant.....MAH MAN!!!!!!!! First he'd put on his shades. Then he'd walk...no....strut to the stage......slowly......., snatch the mike off the stand and command the front of the stage as the crowd would go wild! Some comments to the room, maybe an intro of the band and.... Elvis meet Sinatra meet David Lee Roth meet....Grant. So what happened? Feedback. Large, spontaneous, sincere feedback. I have a picture of this scene and I taped our last night there so now I have proof and you know what? It ain't all that great....but you really had to be there. 'Cause there...it was great. We encouraged him, the crowd encouraged him....the other bartenders weren't that crazy about it, but they rolled, and Grant became one with his confidence and did it, man.....and did it well!

It's amazing what a pat on the back, some positive reinforcement (sure...a little alcohol may have been involved), and confidence can do for a guy. You think you can.....you can! Most of the time, anyway. The lesson? Encourage!!!!! I don't know where I heard it, but I have, taped to my kitchen cabinet, the words, "The greatest risk is taking no risk at all." It's kind of become my mantra in the last few years. You know that feeling you get when you should have tried something..... and you didn't. Not for me, man. You rock, Grant!!!! Now pass me that vegemite sandwich.

Highway To Hell....er...heck

2006-01-08T07:18:00.000-08:00

Music has been such a huge part of my life, from neighborhood shows, ala The Little Rascals, to a stint with the St. Mary's Boys Choir, to bands, bands, bands. My first "professional" band was with a with a group called The Wichita Straw Band, which quickly evolved into Freewhweelin'. That was when I dropped the guitar and started playing the bass.

It's amazing how little incidents.......a left here....a right there.....go out.....stay home.........can put such a spin on your life. The year was 1972. The place was Highway Music, East Brunswick, NJ.......closing time. Rock, Mike and I spent a lot of time that summer playing guitars, surfing, throwin' and going to keg parties......and enjoying everything that went along with that scene. Everybody and their sister played guitar but soon it came down to the three of us. We were actually working up set lists and considering giving this a shot. Flash to Highway Music. I'll be forever grateful to the sales guy for staying open a little later that night and letting us grab and play. Mike and Rock pulled a couple of guitars off the wall and for some reason.... I grabbed a bass. We plugged in, started playing Johnny B. Goode and I can't explain the ease and the comfort level I felt. You have to be able to recognize a good epiphany when it happens. They're rare. This one kicked me in the teeth. On the way home I was having a hard time explaining what had happened. I was dry mouthed, kind of stunned...remember your first kiss?........ yeah, like that. The next day I bought a Fender bass and about a month later a Fender Bassman amplifier . We got our old drummer from junior high school (I refer you to the "what's in a name" post) and stumbled through a few gigs. And you know what? Girls still liked musicians....even bad ones. YAAAAAYYY!!!!!!

Mike left and went to grad school, as did Ronnie, our drummer. We ran into Lew, a wonderful fiddler. Then Joe, another high school bud, joined us on guitar....a few starts and stutters...... and Freewheelin' was hatched. We played as a semi electric four piece for awhile until one night at a place called The Gypsy in Long Valley, NJ we recognized our future drummer.....Panama Ed......and had a pretty good run for a few years. We were lucky...old friends, liked the same kind of music, and the country rock scene was rollickin' in NJ at the time. We drove to gigs together, ate together, lived together. (It's amazing how quickly crabs can spread though a house) and still play together, in one form or another, every now and then. We'd always stick a few originals in the sets and some label interest developed. But the business end was not our strong suit. Agents would talk to us about tightening up the stage act or dressing better.....the music was fine....but.....we'd always glaze over at that point. Over the years we've thought we probably blew a golden opportunity. But the truth is...better bands than us have come and gone and always will. No regrets.

Freewheelin's last gig was at The Red Fox Inn in New Brunswick, NJ. I thought.... ok.... I got this out of my system, now it's back to school and reality. Well, wouldn't you know. During the night a woman comes up to me, tells me she's a singer in a band and they need....you guessed it.....a bass player. That was twenty five plus years ago and it's never stopped. You see, you can't swing a dead cat without hittin' a guitar player....no offense.....but, I've discovered over the years, bass players are at a premium. Why I reached for a bass on the wall at Highway Music that summer night I'll never know. The road that's followed has not been........ prosperous. But I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Merry Christmas........Everyone

2005-12-17T05:09:00.000-08:00

I played at my first Christmas party of the year yesterday. It's just not Christmas without a Christmas party gig. This one's always a little different. A friend of mine, whom I've played with many a time, has a guitar playing brother who works for a local company. There's a couple of drummers from the same company so once a year a band is formed........loose....fun.....unpredictable. I never know what song is gonna be called out. I can't remember the last time I played Ozzy's "Paranoid"......oh ....that's right.....NEVER. Till yesterday. It's a kick playing with guys who don't play out all the time. Lots of enthusiasm. And because it's their company, lots of enthusiasm back. This is our fourth?....fifth?....year with this group so the cast of characters has become familiar. We know who's gonna grab the mike and start singing as things get.....cheerful, who'll be wearing the Santa hat, who will be on the floor....who will be on the table. Fun group.

This time of year cuts both ways for me. I have wonderful childhood memories of the Christmas season. I also lost both my parents on New Years Eve. So it's one of those smile...and reflect...at the same time kind of things. The commercialism that has become Christmas is repulsive on so many levels. And all the radio talk about using the term Christmas, not using the term, to set up or not to set up displays ........c'mon. The celebration of the solstice (to my mind, the beginning of summer....if you really stretch it) goes back to some pagan ritual, anyway. Look, I don't know what Jesus "was." But he seemed like a guy with an innocent message. Love your neighbor, turn the other cheek, do unto others, etc. Not bad. And not so easy. Eight years at St. Mary's Grammar School knocked most of the Catholic out of me. (I could never buy into the hell thing) But is is called CHRISTmas, so why not give him his due?

People have too much time on their hands. Who has time to make and circulate petitions, march with signs, call talk radio shows and be on hold for an hour? I'm just trying to pay my rent, get through life and finish (start) my Christmas shopping. I did go to a couple of demonstrations in college but to be honest, it was to meet girls. And in college, you're supposed to have time on your hands.

If you haven't seen A Christmas Story, (and why not?), it'll be running for twenty four hours starting Christmas Eve. WATCH IT !!!!!! It's got it all....Red Ryder BB guns, tongues stuck to flagpoles, Christmas dinners gone bad.....a story from a more innocent time. Of course, there's always A Very Brady Christmas. Am I the only one who had the hots for Florence Henderson? She was no June Cleavage...er....Cleaver.....but still. There's A Christmas Carol (Alistair Sim version), The Grinch, The Chipmunks, A Wonderful Life, The Breaking Bonaduce Christmas Special. That last one doesn't actually exist....but it should.

Take a few minutes, if you think of it, to stroll around ouside that day. Before company comes, or before you take off to Grandma's. There's a feeling in the air. You can smell it....sense it....wrap it around you like your favorite old coat. It's...... peace. Enjoy it.

Cold as a........

2005-12-11T14:29:00.000-08:00

Man, the first snowfall of the season and I'm already pining for summer. It's just that the older I get......the less I like the cold. Again my grandmother was right. When I was a kid I could stay out all day in the cold. Now I'm actually warming up my car.....and not for the car. One time I fell through the ice in Greenbrook Park. My pal Billy slid down the slope yelling at me to grab his leg. Well, it was only about two and a half feet of water but I appreciated the sentiment. After a two mile walk home I was about as cold as I'd ever been in my life. Remember the Twilight Zone....or was it Outer Limits....where the astronaut came back to earth and could never get warm? The coffee was never hot enough, the shower was ....well...you get it. That's the way I was. My grandmother....remember her?.....made me some hot chocolate that I sucked down in a flash and I couldn't get the bath hot enough. Submitted for your approval.
I got over it. But I've discovered something in the last few years. If you're dressed for it, the cold ain't half bad. I was alway one to just grab a jacket and roll. I guess it was a childhood of dealing with galoshes and hoods and trying to fit everything into those St. Mary's closets and they'd never dry and..... on and on. I do a lot of walking these days. Ya know what the secret is to staying warm? Layers. Lots of 'em. And walking fast. I won't set any records for time spent in the cold but an hour, hour and a half I can do. A blue sky and sun don't hurt. And after...man...it feels good!!
I spend a fair amount of time in NYC and I've never understood the homeless situation there. Sad, sure....but how about getting on a bus or thumbing a ride (check out an earlier blog) to Miami. New York is cold, man!!!! There is nothing colder than downtown where the buildings create these wind tunnels that darn near blow you off your feet. Try a ferry ride. That'll snap you to.

Two weeks till Christmas. That means the winter solstice, doesn't it....the shortest day of the year? Which means that the next day, the days start getting longer. And theoretically, warmer. Then, one day you get that first whiff of....dead skunk....no...no ......spring!!!! You know that smell. An immediate flashback happens. Apple trees, baseball, beaches, sunburn, mosquito bites, poison Ivy. But, I digress. I find myself in a bit of a quandry. I want to rush the winter along, but with it goes..... my life. As my grandmother...remember her?........ said, the older you get the quicker the years go by. Ok...I get it. So rather than curse the cold, I'll put on some longjohns. C'moooonnnnnn......solstice.

"The Times, They Are a' Changin"

2005-11-23T05:02:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving week....2005. In the words of the late, great Mickey Mantle, " If I'd known I was gonna live this long I would've taken better care of myself", or something like that. Moved out of Lucy's, back to my apartment, got laid off, got re-hired, solo gig this weekend, dj gig in two weeks, house on the market, have to find new digs, and if that's not enough....I'm in charge of bringing the shrimp for Thanksgiving!!!!!!! Actually, that's the bright spot. Thanksgiving to me has always been one of those kick back, fun holidays. I've hosted a couple of times, with mega help...and it's still fun. Not a whole lot of hoopla or commercialism or things you have to do, at least as a guest. Show up on time, bring something, watch football games you care nothing about and....EAT!!!!!!!

I'm lucky. My radio show always falls on Thanksgiving. (For you surfers that's www.wdvrfm.org Thurs 6am - 9.) This means I get to play Alice's Restaurant, of course, and pontificate on the meaning of the day. Which is what? Hey, it's called Thanksgiving!!!!!!! C'mon even the most cynical, depressed of you out there must have something to be thankful about. I've had a challenging eight or nine months, but life is still pretty good. Good friends, family, eat regularly, sleep soundly and get to write and record music. I don't get a salary for that but.......hmmmmmmm. Did you ever hear the expression "living in the moment?" It's not easy. We're always thinking about the next thing. If this or that happens everything will be wonderful. That's probably never gonna happen. I look around my apartment and see all the music and recording equipment I have and I can finally say, alright, that's it. But then it's..... now I have to get better transportation to lug it around. What's wrong with us.?!?! Try the in the moment thing. I was walking down a wonderful NJ trail the other day. The sun was shining, the leaves were changing, and I had to force myselt to be there.........not into next week. No, it's not easy. Moments come and go quickly.

Thanksgiving 2005. Am I thankful? You bet. I've made it this far and it's up to me...and only me....to make the rest as good as it can be. That thing about what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger works. Yeah, I've had some roadblocks lately. Not as many as a single mom living on the street in India, or New Orleans, or NYC. Our own obstacles are important to us...and they should be. But stepping back and taking a look around can do a person a world of good. Ah....perspective. My mom had a circulatory disease that went on for ten years and resulted in both of her legs being amputated before it finally killed her. What's my cross to bear? I have high blood pressure. WAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Find something to be thakful for this Thanksgivng, this week, this year. It's there....somewhere.

This Land Is Your Land

2005-10-25T12:05:00.000-07:00

A few years back I took a much needed sabbatical. Great word.....sabbatical. Could mean anything. This was a two month solo cross country trip. One of the best times I've ever had. Kind of a "Travels With Charlie" meets "Easy Rider" thing. Left NJ just before Halloween, stopped in my old college town of El Paso, Texas, visited some relatives in Phoenix, Arizona for a few weeks...... up and down the California coast...... back to AZ by way of Vegas........ met my future ex wife there for a trip to the Grand Canyon...she flew home and I drove back to Jersey...... with a stop in PA to visit the future ex in laws. Not nearly enough space in blogdom to relate all the adventures. But this trip had a kind of spirituality to it........as if my "guardian angel" came along for the ride. For instance, on the trip from Phoenix to San Diego ( Death Valley is aptly named) my brakes were wearing out. Finally made it to the coast and screeched into one of those seaside motels. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a sign proclaiming "Brake World." Actually it proclaimed "Dlrow ekarB", but some pads and fluid and I was on my way the next afternoon.

I wound up in San Francisco and toyed with the idea of continuing up to Alaska but the line had to be drawn somewhere. Just last year did a ride from Eureka to San Fran following a twenty six mile marathon with a friend through the redwoods. (Another story for another day.) Did the Haight Ashbury/Grateful Dead run, but a stop I had to make on the way back down the coast was the Ken Kesey/Merry Pranksters house in La Honda. I refer you to "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test." It was just a few miles off the beaten path and damned if rainbows weren't comin' out the windows. Did a tour of the Hearst Castle in San Simeon......that guy had way too much cash.......rode an earthquake in Morro Beach, talked life with a couple of hookers in Vegas (didn't partake), saw "The Flamingos" at a small bar in The Sands, and back to Arizona for a while. I think I'll have to save the Grand Canyon with the future ex wife for another day. That was a mystical trip. She just got remarried last weekend and I still consider her one of my best friends.

A cool sidebar to the trip home was a stop at Meteor Crater in AZ. D'ja ever hear of this place? Way off the beaten path. And a big hole to boot. You have to walk through the Meteor Crater gift shop to get to the main attraction. But well worth the trip. A little bit of the moon right here on earth. And....they tell me....it could happen again.

Sabbaticals? I recommend them. And roaming around this country isn't a bad way to kill a few days, a week, month. It's a big place and everyone, at some time, should see it. As Woody said,"This land was made for you and me.'

It's Like Ridin' A Bike

2005-10-18T12:51:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in a blog gone by, I learned to ride a two wheeler at age three...or there abouts. Anybody I could grab to give me a push, I would. I have a distinct memory of my brother pushing me up Monroe Ave in Plainfield, and I guess I was getting cocky, 'cause when I turned to look back he was a block away waving at me. Of course, I immediately fell. But I was resilient and determined and ride I did....like the very wind !!!! I had lots of adventures on bikes. I hadn't thought of some of my bikes until this very moment. What a flashback. We used to play this hide and seek type game.... in teams..... and on bikes..... called Ring O Lerio. One team would get about twenty minutes take off time and then the chase was on. The way you knocked one of them out of the game was to smack their tire with your tire....in mid chase. A dicey proposition. Riding the hills in Greenbrook Park was exciting.....especially Suicide Hill. You had to actually cross a road in mid hill with no time to look for anything. If my mother only knew. A new guy moved into the neighborhood and on his first trip down the "hill" we forgot to tell him about the huge root on one of the bends. Maybe the hardest I ever saw anyone go down on a two wheeler. Got a lot of mileage out of that story.

A friend of mine had a paper route in my next town and I'd go along sometimes riding on the handlebars. He'd go screaming down this hill and make the turn just missing the far curb. We'd both be screaming the whole way. Manly screams, of course. Two on a bike took a little practice. The handlebars, the crossbar or the rear fender were your choices. Or one on the seat and one standing and pedalling. My least favorite way. Another friend of mine had a bike with no seat and no brakes. Ouch !!! These were the days when bikes had individualities about them. Before the "English Racer" or"ten speed." But man, I could still fly pretty good on mine. One day I was cruisin' down Rivercrest Dr and here he comes...this big old nasty German Shepherd ripping across the lawn after me. Well I wan't too concerned. I knew he was tied up.... but....what?......not today!!!!!! He was off the lawn, into the street and the chase was on. Adrenaline's a wonderful thing, isn't it? He was gaining till he was about four or five feet behind me, then it was an endurance contest. Neck and neck for about a block, then he started slipping away. Feets don't slip now. Made it.

I used to have an apartment in Somerville, NJ right over a drug store at the corner of Main and Bridge Sts. Not exceptionally interesting, except on Memorial Day. The Kugler Memorial Day bike race.....or whatever it was called ...would happen. One of the biggest races in the country, right through town, and I was on the main corner!!!!!! Man, I was popular that weekend. Now that's ridin'.......and crashin'. Nothin' like the sound of a hundred and fifty bikes going by you at thirty mph. 40?...50?....I don't know. But fast.

I have a mountain/all terrain bike now, mainly for cruising the trails of Hunterdon County for nothing more than fun and exercise. The flatter the terrain, the better. Every now and then, though, I'll get off the beaten path and be a kid again for awhile. I love that feeling when you finally jump off and your legs feel like rubber. You manage the cool dismount and then almost collapse. Ahhh, well. When you're a kid your bike is like...well....it's like a guy's horse was in the old west. Your best friend. Your mode of transport. Your ticket to adventure, romance, "here to there." You could tell a lot about a person by the kind of bike they rode. The generics of the bike of today, I fear, have taken that away. Climbing aboard one is so familiar to everyone it's got its own signature. "It's like ridin a bike!!!!" Well.... I don't know, man........nothin's quite like ridin' a bike.

All You Need Is Love

2005-10-11T11:03:00.000-07:00

Where would movies, songs, books, art, etc be without the theme of love? Where would we as human beings be without love, or the promise of it? It'd be a sad, much less interesting life, wouldn't it? I had two girlfriends in kindergarten. They didn't know they were my girlfriends but that hardly mattered. I'll leave out their last names but Susan was the bombshell and Kathy was the cute, but really cool one. I learned an important lesson that year. Cool, sweet, nice, sincere, funny will win out over hotness in the long run. Goodbye Susan.

My first real girlfriend happened in the eighth grade. And wouldn't you know she lived in the same neighborhood from where I'd just moved? Dang!!!!! I met her on my first gig. I was thirteen and playing guitar with "The Esquires" at my friend's basement bash. How we were gonna get through the night on three songs was a mystery but it didn't matter. The guitar worked!!! I would commute from Piscataway to Plainfield by bike a couple of days a week.......about an hour and a half ride...and live for Sats. Guitar lesson in the morning, wandering around downtown Plainfield, then meeting Debbie for some serious movie time. The Strand Theater had a great balcony in 1966. I saw Goldfinger four or five times and still can't tell you why that woman (Ursula Andress?) had to get painted to death. Getting home was always an adventure. My mom would drop me off at the lesson and then I was on my own. My ties were slowly moving from Plainfield to Piscataway. And meeting Debbie was only locking me back in.

Turns out....get this....she was also a guitar player.....and could smoke me on my best day!!! But she had a secret. She was already in a cool band with gigs and, for the time, great equipment.

I never could figure out why she didn't tell me. Maybe it was the tail end of that women shouldn't be as talented as men thing. Weird. We'd do most of our communicating by phone during the week and I should have known something was up when I played "Day Tripper" for her and she played it back to me smoother, faster and....right. I realized later when we'd play together, she'd play down to my level.....to not embarass me?....I don't know. She never did come clean. I had to find out from her mother!!!! When I walked past her bedroom and saw this great amplifier she said it was her cousin's and looked really nervous explaining it...and.....I BELIEVED HER!!!!

Debbie and I eventually went our separate ways and I settled into new friends, bands, school and...... new girlfriends. There is nothing like the feeling of a new infatuation......learning all about someone...the way your heart does a flip when you see them coming. Anything beyond that is gravy. No wonder songs, poems , operas, paintings have been dedicated to this nutty emotion. Love. It's as good as it gets, man. Countries have been lost, wars have been fought, murders have been committed..... Mick Jagger, Mother Theresa and Leonardo DaVinci have been brought into this world.....because of it. My kindergarten pals taught me to look beyond the facade and into the person. Not easy, being a human male, and I've fallen into the trap more than once. But sooner or later the cream always rises to the surface.

I will always believe in the fabulous institution of love......from "All You Need Is Love" to " Love Stinks." I've never cried.....or laughed....so hard because of it. I've embraced it, cursed it, celebrated it, regretted it....and searched for it. Once again I have to quote the poets of my generation. "And in the end....the love you take...is equal to the love....you make." Well said, lads.

"Hmmmmmmm"

2005-09-16T16:18:00.000-07:00

I used to play frisbee in the hall of my college dorm. If you could get the disc to fly all the way down without hitting the walls it would make an audible hum. You could feel it. Perfection. Ever have any days like that? I hope so. I was playing some neighborhood football when I was about sixteen and having one of those days. I was catching everything, tackling everybody, intercepting, running, scoring...... I even made one of those on the run over the shoulder catches and outran my buddy who I could never keep up with on my best day. I was a football machine. Same time frame, different sport. This was a local baseball game. I was a lefty playing shortstop and it was like I had glue in my glove and thunder in my bat. I hit a home run that seemed to have gotten caught in the jet stream. Man, it just kept on going. Some years later I had a gig on Christmas Eve at a Jersey bar that had kind of become our second home. The guy who I outran in that magical football game was playing rhythm guitar. This was a cool honky tonk called The Pittstown Inn, in Pittstown, NJ. I live a stone's throw from the inn now and though it's been "upscaled" since 1976, I can still hear the music when I go in there. We always rocked this place, but this was one of those nights. Lots of friends we hadn't seen in awhile...just jammed to the rafters. We couldn't get off the stage at break time........nowhere to go!!!! Everything we played just flowed. Vocals, music, atmosphere. It was a frisbee humming down the hall.

The wonderful thing about these experiences is that they come out of nowhere......unexpected........from the ether. Out of all the hundreds of gigs, baseball games, football games , why were these to be the ones that went down ? And were they really that special or just seem that way in the romance of retrospect? I had other good games, good gigs. But during those particular times I remember an overwhelming feeling of confidence.....invlnerability.

In grade school one time a weird thing happened. We had one of those magazine drives. According to how many dollars you sold, your name went into a hat and the winnning name drawn got a stuffed animal. No big deal except...I won....and I knew I was going to win. My name was in there eleven times which was on the low to middle end of the scale. I was in the process of closing the classroom windows with one of those huge rods. Remember those? As the teacher was pulling the name....my name...I handed off the rod and started walking up to claim my prize. A couple of seconds later my name was read and I was already there. Pretty cool. Confidence, man.

These kinds of things happened maybe a dozen times in my life. You're in a class that you know you're gonna nail. You meet this woman that you know is really gonna dig you, even if she's way out of your league. You're gonna snag the ball, hit the note, win the prize. Sometimes the stars are just right. Somebody saying this moment....this night....is for you. Grab it, appreciate it.......remember it. I appreciate and remember these moments more and more. But they're different now. I was sitting out back the other day and a humming bird flew by and stopped right in front of my face. I felt like I should know....realize something about this , but after a few seconds it hummed off. A frisbee with wings. Fast wings. As I get older things take on a significance, a spirituality that I wouldn't have thought about years ago. I like it....... appreciate it. If only I could remember it.

Let The Sun Shine

2005-09-12T18:32:00.000-07:00

Labor Day has come and gone. I really had a good couple of end of summer weeks. A few good gigs, a dinner blast with the family, some shore time with my sister and her family......some shore time with Lucy and her family. Righteous. Summer's still here, though. September and October are great summer months.....usually. I hasten to say, however ........I can smell fall/winter. You know that first change of season whiff you get? It's invigorating post winter but a little foreboding pre winter. Or is it just me. I'm becoming less and less of a winter person. I can still have a good time rolling around in the snow, it's just thad I'd rather roll around on a beach. Or take a walk in the woods. I took a bike ride last weekend down a wonderful path here in Hunterdon County, NJ. The weather's been stellar!!!!! I was drawn to park the bike and sit by the river more than once. I found a great spot where you can sit almost below the river; reach out and scoop up handfuls of water. Where the heck was everybody? Don't they know there's water here?!?! The attraction for a Pisces is mind bending.....healing........spiritual......FUN.

I've really had a chance for some thinking, meditating, writing, squirrel watching, duck feeding... lately. We.....I need that. I've been writing songs and working on a cd. I don't really care what happens in the end, I'm diggin' the process. Is life picking up steam, or is it me? I've had a nutty job for the last six months and stopping to smell the roses is mandatory. It should be for everyone. My grandmother used to tell me how things "quickened" as you get older. I didn't quite get it then. I do now. We're here for such a blink. It's amazing that Einstein, Edison, The Beatles, Jefferson could do as much as they did. It seems like it takes me so dang long to catch on.....but I don't realize it until after I catch on. I swear if I could get paid for dreaming, I'd be making loans to Chase Manhattan. Maybe that's what this go 'round is for. To look around, get the lay of the land, and be ready to spring into action next time. One can only hope.

The National Past Time (A Day In The Life)

2005-08-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

How many times have you heard about, talked about or read about somebody's first trip to the ballpark? Remember Billy Crystal in "City Slickers? " That was MY trip to Yankee Stadium!!! I was ten years old in 1962 and I remember my father coming home from work and pulling the tickets out of his brown leather bomber jacket. A lot better than a Snickers. You coulda knocked me over. Man, I held those things, turned them over and over, tried to figure out the seating.......whew!!.

"The Day" was one adventure after another. The bus ride from Plainfield, NJ to the Port Authority in NY, to the Horn and Hardart automat for lunch..... to the subway ride (on two different trains) up to the Bronx. Each of these is a story in itself. But....the Bronx. When the D train came up over that rise....well Holy Cow! There it was; huge, majestic......crowded. "The House That Ruth Built." Somehow my father seemed to know where to go. We passed the vendors and the small brass band, squeezed through the turnstiles and......we were in!!! We could hear the muffled roar of the fans as balls sailed through the air during batting practice. The inside of the stadium was a mass of humanity and sounds as we followed the huge circlular trail in search of our gate. And now here it is...... you've heard it a dozen times before. As we passed each gate and I got brief glimpses onto the field, something looked.......odd. Oh my God. Yankee Stadium was in COLOR. I mean gorgeous green, rich deep brown, white bases and lines., and, of course, pinstripes. After our small black and white tv, This was almost too much to take in. And that's a feeling modern kids will never know. It was a flippin' jaw dropper.

We got to our seats and let the barrage of peanuts, programs, hot dogs, soda, pennants etc begin. I know my dad was on a budget, but I don't remember wanting for anything. The smell of cigar smoke wove through the stands and to this day reminds me of a Bronx day in 1962. I don't really remember where our seats were but they were close enough to see faces. Yogi, Mickey, Roger, Moose, Bobby Richardson, Tom Thresh. ........they were all there. And so was Jimmy Piersall. Remember him......"Fear Strikes Out?" That was a bonus. He even did us the honor of geting into a bench clearing brawl that started with some fans in the right field stands harassing Jimmy and finally jumping onto the field.....much to their ultimate dismay. I can still see so clearly the black infield dirt flying off Yankee cleats as they met the Cleveland Indians in right field. Wasn't much of a rumble. Baseballs players are notorious for their non brawls. But the image was indelibly imprinted on my ten year old brain. I don't remember who won the game....or the brawl, but Johnny Blanchard smacked two out of the park, and Jim Bouton was throwing pure smoke. Man, it had it all!!

The trip home was anti-climatic, but my neighborhood status soared. I'd made it. The first one. I felt like George from "Of Mice And Men" as he related the rabbits story to Lenny. The boys.....and girls..... never tired of hearing about "the trip." I didn't even have to embellish all that much. I'm not a parent, but I can appreciate the impact we have on creating kid's memories. You have to recognize the moment. A backyard catch, a fishing trip, a new guitar chord, a walk in the woods. They're all potential life changers. I could tell you a story about each one of these. And ......I probably will.

"If I Could Get Down To The Sea Again......"

2005-08-05T16:55:00.000-07:00

I went tubing down the Delaware last weekend. Lucy's had this yen to get on the water and being a Pisces it doesn't take much to get me on board. There's a place right across the river in PA that does all the work for you. Thirty minutes away, five bucks for parking, twenty bucks for the tubes, walk the cattle lines, a fifteen minute bus ride and into the river, baby!! We opted for the four hour cruise and it is nothin' but maxin' and relaxin'.
What is it about water that's so....familiar. Is it the old back to the womb thing? As a kid I was always the first guy in the water and the last to get out. My mom used to have a tough time getting me out of the bathtub!! Remember the way your fingers would get all white and wrinkled? That's the way they looked last weekend in the river. What is that, anyway? Around age seventeen I took up surfing. I was never any good at it but it was another excuse to spend hours in the water. Sitting on a surfboard out in the ocean at sunrise or sunset is ......primitive........a little bit dangerous and.....bonding. The ocean is a cure all for many ills. A friend of mine would get all kinds of skin maladys from the standard poison ivy, oak, etc....to stuff we would just call jungle rot. Nothing too serious. He'd always say,"If I could just get into mother ocean." I've adopted that saying over the years and it still holds up. I learned early on that the salt water of the Jersey shore was great for hangovers, zits, rashes of all kinds and attitude. Getting on to the beach, that first charge into the water, jumping over the first few waves, then making the perfect dive under a wave and coming up on the other side......well.....there's a certain art to it that only comes with years of practice. Don't get me started on the ins and outs of body surfing.....getting your face jammed into the sand......mouthfuls of salt water.......crashing into strange knees. Man, that's good. (Sprinklers, Slip n' slides, water balloons........remember them?)

We had a couple of pretty good quarrys in our area. Quarry swimming was a little more dicey. Unknown terrain, cops....an occasional drowning. But a chance to jump off a cliff. Who can pass that up?!? One time a few friends and I took a two day canoe trip some years back. The first night we're out in the middle of nowhere. We pull over, climb up a way and set up camp. In the middle of the night the ground starts shaking ....we see a bright light coming at us....take us home Jesus!!!! Turns out we set up camp about twenty yards from a train track. But....we survived. Great sunburn that weekend, as with most of my adventures with water.
Lucy seems to have the same affinity for water as me but doesn't seem to realize it....or make a big deal out of it. Like it's just a natural thing. And it is. She gets in water and a....what.......calm?.......gentleness?..........acceptance comes over her. It's great!!!!! I was watching this show on PBS about birth, from conception to delivery. The shots of the baby inside the womb are amazing. Surviving in liquid......almost more fish than human for a long time. And sure as hell not wanting to leave. Explains a lot.
Some of our best movies are about water...and fish. Moby Dick, Jaws,The Old Man And The Sea, Poseiden Adventure, Titanic and on and on. It seems at one time the earth was one continent surrounded by water. I give you CONTINENTAL DRIFT. How 'bout Water World. Horrible movie, but at the same time.....comforting. I don't know. The Standells..."Dirty Water". .....one of the most recognizable guitar licks of all time.
The Jersey shore has cleaned up considerably in the last twenty five years. Mother ocean is nothing if not resilient. She gives us so much. I'm glad we can help out when she needs it.

Mea Culpa

2005-07-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

So the Pope arrives at JFK, comes down the stairs of his private jet and walks up to his limo driver. He says to the guy,"Hey look, I never get a chance to drive anymore. Whaddaya say you let me take the wheel for the way back?" The driver's a litle taken aback and says,"Gee, Your Holiness, I don't know....I could really get in a lot of trouble here.......and it's been a while for you......I... don't think so." They go back and forth and the driver gives in. Sure enough they take off and the pope's a little heavy on the foot and not a great driver in general. Coming down the Van Wyck Expwy, they get the attention of one of New York's Finest. The cop approaches the car and notices who's driving. He excuses himself, goes back to his car and calls in to his Sergeant. He says, "Uh, Sarge, we got a situation here ......got a limo stopped on the Van Wyck........it's a VIP. Not sure what to do...... I don't want any incidents, if ya know what I mean." The Sarge says,"What, an actor, politician...?" "Bigger," says the cop. "Well, Elvis and Sinatra are dead .....how big is this guy,?" says the Sarge. "Look, the cops says, I don't know who it is, but the Pope's drivin !!!!!!!"

Ahhh, They Can't Hurt Ya'

2005-07-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

This day started off a little differently. Almost checked out. Got your attention? It was a really nice morning. Got up around eight. Blue sky. Plenty of sun. A couple of hours to kill before work. I was all set to paint the deck.... at least the part Lucy left, and looking forward to the experience immensely. I used to paint for a living.....houses, garages, rooms, carports....decks. Painting's very therapeutic...soothing. It was also a good gig to combine with playing music at night. Good hours, plenty of sunshine, a day off when I needed it. So I was pumped. Did a few sections and was ready to move on to the bulk. Arranged some furniture and plants and was giving the deck a sweepdown....when it happened. Did I mention I'm allergic to bees?
I was doing a gig last Sunday with a country band I play with now and again. It was a company picnic in a grove behind a bar. As we're setting up this bee keeps hounding the drummer.......I mean... on him. So he's asking me for some help and I'm explaining as I'm snapping a towel at him that I really shouldn't be doing this.....allergic and all that. During the break I'm relating the story of when and how I discovered this peculiar allergy. But I digress.
I'm giving the deck a sweepdown and realize I'm taking a few stings here and this could be trouble. I jet into the house, out the back door and to my car to grab an Epi Pen that I hope is in there. This is a self injectable, whack yourself in the leg setup that's supposed to pull you through these episodes........adrenaline or something. I get back in the house and sit down on the couch.....starting to recognize the symptoms....hard to breathe........things getting...."slow". This is where it gets weird. I'm looking towards a part of the room where I have my recording equipment. Watching guard over the stuff is the Carole King album "Tapestry". I leave it leaning on the recorder in the hopes that some magic will jump from the grooves into the machine....an osmosis kind of thing. She's got a great new cd out, by the way. So as I'm bonding with Carole and forgetting about injecting.....everything stopped. I don't think we realize it but there's really no such thing as total silence. You........ I........ can hear (feel) our heart pumping, blood rushing through our veins, and that abstract kind of ear hum. I always thought that was the sound of the universe. When it stops, man it's quiet. And there I sat. A peace fell over the room. And then. I don't know. Did I pass out? Leave the planet? The next thing I felt...heard.... was a whack on the side of my head. Kinda like my football coach would give me. Not painful, just an attention grabber. A thud through my helmet. Or kind of like that jump you get when you start to doze off in a chair. Always embarassing if somebody sees you. Now I'm back, I grab the Epi Pen and jam it into my thigh. OUCH !!!!!!!! Within three seconds I have a headache to beat the freakin' band. And those sounds? They're baaaaaack !!!!!!
I don't move for about forty five minutes. The head stopped pounding, the vision cleared and a dull hangover type feeling sets in. I recognize this feeling. I had it the last time I cheated the bees out of their ultimate revenge. At that time the doc said I was lucky to still be here. Next time could be different. Location of the stings apparantly makse a difference. Both times in the feet.....long way from the heart. Got an additional one in the hand this time. Nasty little buggers. Ya know, I'll go out of my way to throw an ant out of the house...alive. But I've gotta admit, I enjoyed unleashing a load of Raid on the bastion of the bees.

A couple of hours later I was getting ready to walk to work and picked up the trusty Epi Pen. I couldn't help but notice what it said on the side.....exp Aug /2003. Oops.

The Bell Has Tolled

2005-07-25T13:25:00.001-07:00

My friend Carol died over the weekend. Things are in full swing for a "celebration" on Sunday, with a more private service for the family on Mon. I want to put together some kind of....tribute......remembrance..... for my radio show this week. These are always kind of touchy. You try to have a reverence without being too maudlin. I usually find what happens...... happens. You can't plan or fake sincerity...grief.......love. She was way too young.

"It Tolls For Thee"

2005-07-20T15:20:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine is lying in bed dying of cancer. Carol's the wife of the keyboard player in my band. The band I'm leaving. Tom and I have played together on and off for about twenty five years. I actually knew Carol before Tom. She used to work at a convenience store in Piscataway, NJ in the 70's. I'd pop in from time to time and some casual flirting would ensue.

This is Carol's second go round with Cancer and it's really starting to piss me off. I saw her a couple of weeks ago and she was not doing well. A group of us shared some food, beverage and songs and Carol really seemed to be enjoying herself. About a year ago she came to a gig and at the end of the night I gave her a hug and told her we all loved her. She seemed so touched I almost felt guilty..........like I was saying hey, we all know...It'll be ok. We knew it wouldn't be ok and now she's in bed with a morphine drip waiting for the light. I've always been a good listener, and Carol was an enthusiastic communicator. I rarely saw her these days, but when I did I'd pull up next to her, ask her how she's been, what's going on...and sit back. She had such an innocent way about her.....beautiful eyes. .......the last of the hippie chicks. It's been a tough go for Tom and their two kids. I was talking to Tom today and pre-arrangements are under way. Some old friends and lots of music. I hope I can to bring something appropriate to the table.

I've lost a few friends in the last ten years or so. Always strange....reflective. I'm no spring chicken but 40's/50's seems too soon. I fear it less and less. I'd still like to make a bigger mark.....but......wouldn't we all. The over riding, all important, mamma jamma, kingfisher, hit you between the eyes message seems to be............. "Be good to each other." Brilliant, huh? Did anybody else ever say that?

The Name Game

2005-07-19T13:07:00.000-07:00

Here's a limmerick I wrote in ninth grade English class:

With Ron on drums and Mike on bass

And me on rhythm guitar,

And George who sings while Rock plays lead

The Plague is going far.

The plague was my first Piscataway band. I moved from Plainfield, NJ to Piscataway, NJ in 1966. The Plainfield bands all had a hard musical edge.....Stones, Animals, Yardbirds etc. The Piscataway bands were more instrumental, lighter......Ventures, Jan and Dean, Surfaris. My job was clear.....conversion. We met somewhere in the middle. I always dug that name....The Plague. Our drummer's father volunteered to get us five hundred business cards. Oooooweeeee!!!! One day at practice the dad showed up with the package. And there they were....five hundred band cards with "The PlagueS" emblazoned on them. "No!!....the Plague....not Plagues." He didn't get it, but we went through them quick enough and he got it right the next time. The best of intentions.

I think a band name is important. In a word or two you should get an idea of what the band's about. By the time I was with the plague at the the ripe old age of thirteen, I'd already been through The Esquires, Bobby and the Bandals, Teddy and the Teabaggers and a few that didn't make it to the name stage. I was never in a band with a name that I could get %100 behind. Just too damn particular. Some later band names were Society's Child, The Best of General Milz, Wichita Straw, Freewheelin', Sundown, Firecreek, Whiskey Lane, Freight Line, Sidewinder, Walking Wounded, The Movers.....et al. One of my favorite names was my drummer buddy's band, The Split Worm Hibernation Day Band. Ahhhh,the 60's were a wonderful era for monickers. All these names convey the era or style of music/attitude......no? If they don't....they should. For the last year I've been doing a solo gig in addition to band stuff. It's weird seeing your name on a poster, marquee, in the paper........especially if you're not a look at me kind of guy. I used to hide under the table when "Happy Birthday" was directed at me. Frightening!!!!

But the playing's what it's all about. For fun or profit, being able to pick up a guitar and noodle is ..........spiritual.....contemplative........ fun. I also realized early on that girls pay a little more attention to the musicians. Why everybody doesn't do this is beyond me. Of course, then I'd be out of a job.

Daze Gone By

2005-07-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

Remember in the late 60's/70's when hitchiking was a legitimate form of transportation? It made every trip a little more of an adventure. My buddies and I would do the one guy hitchin', three guys in the bushes routine. If we all got out there together we had a little temptations step that seemed to move things along......or at least raise a smile. In my college town of El Paso, Kelly and I turned it into a sport. We called it "Hitchin' For Chicks". Politically incorrect I know, but it was a different time. We'd actually turn down rides from anyone except, well.....chicks. One night we got to our favorite corner and there were four different groups of guys lined up to start thumbin'. Damn degenerates. Another era comes to an end.
Another pretty cool Texas hitch was Easter break.......EP to LA. The guy I was going with didn't have much hitchin' experience. I kept telling him what a grueling trip this could be....hours.....days crossing the desert. He didn't seem fazed. We got picked up in about five minutes by a guy going to LA. Really made me look bad. We were going to see his girlfriend in Hollywood. I was telling him...ok ...this is where it gets tough....living by our wits and guile. The girlfriend got us into a mansion in Laurel Canyon for a week. Skunked again. One day the three of us were hitchin' in downtown LA. A taxi driver stopped to pick us up. Even after we explained that we had no money he still insisted we get in. He was a Mexican gentleman and seemed like the happiest guy on the planet. He took us to a small restaurant somewhere in LA, where he was apparantly well known, ordered lunch, bottles of wine, cigars. yeah....CIGARS!!!!!!! We kept insisting we had no money. He finally looked at me, gestured around the room and asked me if I ever heard the phrase,"Mi casa, su casa". He didn't leave any money and none seemed to be expected. I've since used that phrase many times He finally took us where we had to go, dropped us off in our drunken stupor and didn't take a dime. Which was good....'cause we didn't have a dime. I like to consider myself pretty streetwise. That cab driver knocked some of the wise out of me. I sure wish I'd gotten his name. Now we were broke. Things were sure to get nasty. We got jobs as gardeners in our mansion for a couple days and flew back to EP first class. So much for a tough lesson.

Back in Jersey the hitchin' continued....to school, to work...for fun. After I had a car for a few years, I tried it again...but it wasn't the same. A bygone era. In this day and age hitch hiking's taken on a grim aura. People sometimes don't come back. I had a couple of dicey calls, but nothing too serious. And I'm sure my college pal has nothing but rosey memories of his experience. At least we got a ticket from a Texas state trooper...but even he was friendly!!! For some reason I can't really remember the rain or the cold.....the long wait between rides........sometimes not getting rides. Thank God for selective memory, and age. It's much more romantic this way.

Another fine mess.......

2005-07-14T11:15:00.000-07:00

Ya' know how everybody says we all complain about the weather, but nobody ever does anything about it? Many things in life are like that. I had a great set of friends in high school. A group of girls and guys who.... sometimes "hooked up"..... most of the time, not. Lots of experimenting, concerts, surfing, music, and conversation. A lot of the conversation seemed to revolve around how life sucked in New Jersey and we couldn't wait to get out. My griping was half hearted. I kinda liked Jersey. But to prove some kind of point I applied to the Univ. of Texas at El Paso during my senior year. And......uh........I got accepted. Whoops!!! I don't feel real good about that decision now. I left my mom in kind of a bind with a disabled husband and my grandmother. But she went along with the plan and got some insurance cash every month to boot. She'd even dribble me out some now and then. I say that with love and affection. The woman could stretch a buck.
So I'd get that proud feeling in my chest when the topic of my leaving would come up. The girls seemed a little more interested......my buddies seemed a little.....awed....unbelieving. We'd been through a lot since I moved to Piscataway in 1966. I was nervous, excited and wanting to get on with it. It sunk in once I signed that loan for $1000.00 . That was a lot of cash in 1970!!!! But it happened. One last bash the night before and I was on a bleary plane ride to Texas. Culture shock? Whoa!!!! Driving somewhere you get a gradual sense of where you're headed. A four hour flight snaps your reality. From the greenery of Jersey to the mountains and desert of El Paso. Stunningly beautiful but.....different. I was suddenly thrown in with guys from all over the country; and a pretty cool group from El paso who couldn't wait to get out and go some where interesting like....New Jersey!!!! It was an interesting few days as hierarchys and cliques evolved. And all in a very natural way. An even more interesting semester followed and I'd be honored to tell you ....some of it. But not now.
We are adaptable creatures. You know that feeling when you're in the car or walking down the gangway. Those last looks, goodbyes....trying not to let anybody see the redness in your eyes? But then you turn your head around and.....you're gone. On to the next adventure. It's an amazing feeling. We've all had it. It's a lot like the feeling you get on that last call to your sweetheartart...and you know it's done. That big sigh comes out and it's....frightening, lonely, sad and.....liberating. A new day dawns.

I Was Only Kiddin'

2005-07-12T11:47:00.000-07:00

The more I reflect on it, the more I'm convinced I had a really great childhood. I can hold my own in any conversation regarding the Stooges and Rascals, cartcon dialogue, 50's/60's TV shows, and movies of the day. Remember Million Dollar Movie? I don't know if that was an east coast phenomenon or not. The same movie would play Mon through Fri and twice on Sat and Sun. My poor aunt had to sit through Rodan, King Kong , The Crawling Eye, and The Thing more times than she'd care to admit. But as much tube time as I had, the other side of my brain remembers baseball, in all it's neighborhood forms , football, beaches, bicycle adventures, fishing, home made rafts. a scrape or two, friends , solos, libraries and, of course, music.
So which was it? I've gotta thank my parents for the amount of freedom I was given. I learned to ride a two wheeler at age three and it was all over, baby. Had an interesting mix of friends....geeks, shady, smart, jocks. I could always relate to anybody, on some level. Hell, we're all here at the same time. What're the odds of that? And in the words of Jim Morrison,"No one here gets out alive."
Plainfield, NJ was an evolving town in the 60's. Racial tension, the beginnings of flower power, garage bands on every corner. All of these segments impacted me in one way or another. Man, there's a lot I wish I could do over. Adolescence should really go on for about twenty five years. There's just too much happenin'!!!!! Thank God we'll get another chance. What?......you don't believe that?
A wknd off coming up. No gigs, no commitments, no nuttin. Hope to kick back with a friend or two, put the finishing touches on some tunes, and..... who knows.... maybe rent Rodan for old times sake. Later.

Summertime Bluze

2005-07-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

Had a good gig over the wknd. A Private party at Union Gap condos. (Central Jersey) Good crowd, good food, some libations and a good rockin' dance floor. Just when I think I'm too old to play Midnight Hour one more time...... This shot is of a solo gig I do now and then. Not as much fun as the band but a lot more challenging.
The mid summer blues are kickin' in. I think some shore time is called for. Don't misunderstand. I'm not a depressing guy..... I just get a little reflective now and then. Never lasts for long. And so it goes. Some body surfing, a sausage sandwich and a ride on the Wild Mouse....I'll be in the pink. I've been going to Seaside Heights, NJ my whole life. My mom's bridge club used to get a week down there when I was a kid. It was actually right down the road in Ortley Beach, but you could see the ferris wheel from the porch. Had some of my best times at Ortley. As I got a little older I developed a fondness for the quieter beaches. But it's always nice to be within driving range of Seaside. Nothin' like the sights, sounds and smells of the boardwalk. Years later I'd play at a place about a block off the boards. I'd run up between sets , spend a little cash and make it back in time to play "Amy ".
Water's alway played a good sized role in my life......Pisces and all that. Oceans, ponds, lakes , pools, rivers. They're invigorating, healing and a hell of a lot of fun. All this talk of water is making me thirsty. Later
Ted

Skewed Look At Life

2005-07-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

Grasshopper walks into a bar. The bartender looks at him and says,"Ya know, we have a drink named after you. The grasshopper says,"What, you have a drink named Murray?"

A termite walks into a bar, sits down and says to the guy next to him, "Hey, is the bar tender here?"

A guy walks into a bar. He's got a parrot on his shoulder. The bartender says, "Cool, where'd you get that?" The parrot says,"I don't know...it started as a wart on my butt !"

Life Off The Fast Lane

2005-07-06T14:30:00.000-07:00

So up until a few months ago I was a Limo driver in the NJ, NY, PA area. I'm now doing an office gig for the same company. After ten years on the road ........set hours are.....challenging. Nice folks, fairly interesting work....but the freedom of the road is gone. This is exactly why I left the corporate world some years back.

You know that search for contentment we're all on? I realized early on mine couldn't be found in $ s. Maybe the old hippie mindset wouldn't allow me to see past a lot of the ridiculous insanity of the corporate world. Again, a lot of great folks., but feigning desperate interest where there is none ain't easy.

But life goes on and contentment comes in many forms. A rock garden...watching nature......wet kisses......and playing my bass. It always comes back to playing my bass. A private party this wknd....and about 100 yards from home. How good is that? Playing two interesting Jersey clubs next wknd. Somerset Hills Hotel with The Movers and at The Landslide with a country band called Sidewinder.....some more old friends. The Landslide's where I first laid eyes on Lucy about two years ago. I wasn't even gonna go out. Did an afternoon gig at a cocktail hour.....some celtic music with another old pal......and got a call to come out to The Landslide to see a hot pedal steel player later on that night. Went, met, and life took another unexpected turn. I'd just been out of a long term relationship for about six months and wasn't even looking. Ain't that the way it always is.

Radio show tomorrow morning. Not feeling real great. But.....life goes on.

Welcome to my blog?

2005-07-05T13:20:00.000-07:00

I don't think I even heard the word "Blog" before about a month ago But it sounds like good therapy .....and it's free....so what the hell.
I've been a musician since Feb of '64. Hmmmmmm....what happened that day/night?? Two words. Ed Sullivan. I really haven't been able to concentrate since. Guitar through junior high, high school and college. A late nite visit to a music store on Rt 18 turned me into a bass player around the age of 21. Full time for about eleven years. Still at it part time.
I play with a five piece 60's stlye dance band called The Movers. Mainly around central Jersey. Do some moonlighting with a country /bluegrass band. About a year ago I started doing a solo gig....playing guitar and using some home recorded background tracks. During the day/evening I'm in an office gig with some fine folks moving people from here to there. More about that later.
Thursday mornings (6am - 9) I do a radio show on WDVRFM, 89.7. Streams at www.wdvrfm.org. I've been doing this for about twelve years. Another good group of people and....good therapy. Lots of music......... 60's, country and southern rock, folky singer/songwriter and the musings of an aging hippie.
That's about it for now. So...HELLO!!!!!! And let's do this again real soon.
Your Pal,
Ted
Damn...this is cool. I look forward to pouring my guts out on the page. Anything to help deknot de brain.