A Picture Says A Thousand... Actually One Word: Loser

I happened to glance outside after opening my garage door this morning and did a double take when I saw this truck parked across the way. Did this guy really affix that in his back window? You mean to tell me that he actually drives around with that on his vehicle?

90125 - A Forgotten Classic

Yes's 1983 album, 90125, has been on steady play lately on my iPod as I have come to appreciate it more and more over the years. And yet, the album almost never happened. By 1982, Yes had all but faded into oblivion with poor sales and squabbling band members. When relative newcomer and musical genius Trevor Rabin joined forces with Yes bassist Chris Squire to form a new band, they decided to call themselves Cinema. Soon after, Yes vocalist Jon Anderson as well as former members Tony Kaye and Alan White joined the fray to become what was ultimately a new Yes album. At that time, I had recently discovered the band, and especially enjoyed their classics, Fragile and The Yes Album.

Despite the massive success of its singles, "Owner Of A Lonely Heart" and "Leave It" (thanks to the song's "groundbreaking" upside-down video), the strength of this disc lies in the rest of the album tracks. "Hold On" and "It Can Happen" anchor side one before giving way to the powerful yet disjointed time signature of "Changes". Side Two was effective as well, turning 90125 into a different sounding yet timely rock classic. Often brushed aside as utter crap by Yes fans and prog rock purists, 90125 was instantly accessible upon its release. Were the videos cheesy? Yes. Were the outfits and the hairdos tacky? Sure. Was the tour pompous and overblown? Of course. But 90125 stands the test of time and rocks as much if not more than any album from the 80's.

Mother's Milk

When I was a freshman in college 20 years ago, I had a buddy, Murff, whose liquor of choice was scotch. Being green at the time in the ways of sipping quality liquor, I had never tried it. One night I decided to have nip to see what the fuss was all about and to see if I had a taste for this particular libation. I didn't. I decided that scotch whiskey was no friend of mine and that I would stick with the Kentucky bourbon/Tennessee whiskey families of brown liquor.

That all changed this past weekend when I attended the aforementioned Murff's wedding in Memphis. There was a scotch tasting table set up at the reception and decided it would be a fine time to re-visit this liquid delicacy to see if perhaps my palette, if not my attitude, had changed over time. Boy had it ever. I tried two different brands and decided that Glenmorangie was to my liking. Before I knew what was happening, I had turned into Frank The Tank ("It's so good...Once it hit's your lips, It's so good!"). I ended up drinking two glasses on the rocks and another glass of a different brand (only because they had run out of Glenmorangie). And so, lo and behold, I'm now officially a Scotch Man at 39 years-young. Next thing you know, I'll be smoking a pipe while wearing a velvet dinner jacket.

I Love Everybody

During this trying week, I've become extremely nostalgic and appreciative of the friends that I have, yet disappointed in myself for having lost touch with so many. I've basically been in "I Love You, Man" mode and I think it's starting to drive folks crazy (including myself). Losing a friend, especially one who was as young and had as much to live for as Kathryn, is tough. But it's made me realize a few things. For one, it made me think of Dale Murphy.

Dale Murphy was an all-star for the Atlanta Braves in the late 70's into the 80's. He was a shining star on a horrible team during an era of futility for the franchise. Not only did he put up Hall of Fame numbers (yet he's still inexplicably not in Hall); he had more character and class than any of his peers. The team was a perennial cellar dweller with the exception of one hopeful season. In 1982, The Braves did the unthinkable - they won their division and made the playoffs. Years later, I heard a story from the late Braves broadcaster, Skip Caray, that I have never forgotten and that speaks volumes about the kind of person Murphy was/is. The team clinched the division on a west coast road trip and had a long flight back to Atlanta. During the flight, Murphy got out of his seat and went to the back of the plane. He then proceeded to approach each and every one of his teammates and remind them of a play that they had made that season which had gotten them where they were.

"Hey Raffy, remember that diving catch you made against the Cardinals in June that stopped a big inning? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

"Hey Gene, remember striking out the side in the ninth against the Dodgers last month that won the game for us? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

"Hey Chris, remember the game winning home run you had against Houston? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

Dale Murphy was a selfless leader who cared more about the team than himself, and he wanted everyone on that plane to realize the contribution they had made to his own, as well as the team's, success.

Now am I comparing myself to Dale Murphy? Hell no. That man has more character and class in his toenails that I'll ever have. I'll be the first to admit that I have issues and character flaws. But I will say this - I love my friends. And it's because of them that I have at least some amount of good in me. Even the ones that I haven't seen or spoken to in a long time, I still think about and miss dearly. People give me shit about having a thousand Facebook friends (which I certainly deserve). But, like Dale Murphy, I can point to each one of them, Facebook or otherwise, and tell you how that person has affected me as well as influenced or shaped my life in a positive way. If you're reading this and you're a friend of mine, you should already know that. I am and always will be fiercely loyal to my friends, albeit sometimes to a fault. If that's considered a flaw, I can live with that and continue to work on the other obvious ones.

Ok, after two downer posts I promise now to get back to our regularly scheduled programming of things that are weird. hilarious or just piss me off in general. Thanks for indulging me.

Kathryn

Last Thursday I lost a dear old friend of mine, Kathryn Hayes Calhoun. Kathryn and I used to be camp counselors together, and I had not seen her in many years. But we had re-connected on Facebook in recent months, and I was happy to see that she had a lovely family with three young children. I spent nine summers at the aforementioned camp, with some of those having an underlying misery despite all the good times and good friends. This was due to the strain of my parents’ divorce during my teen years. The summers of ’85-’89 were the tough ones for me. Although I stayed home from camp during the summer of ’89 to be with my girlfriend (who, naturally, subsequently dumped me that June), there was tragedy at camp that summer as three four kids that I knew very well were in a serious car accident - two of whom were killed. I was also arrested for (brilliantly) possessing a fake ID while on the way to visit camp the very next week. Good times indeed.

Which brings us to the summer of 1990. I was back at camp as a senior counselor, along with a terrific group of guys and girls, including Kathryn, who bonded very effectively. I already knew Kathryn fairly well, although we had never worked together at the same time. But we became really good friends that summer, and spent many hours laughing together. In fact, she was always laughing or smiling. She had sass as well as a beautiful spirit. I’ve racked my brains over the past few days trying to remember a single time when she was ever pissed off and I just can’t (although I’m certain she had her moments). She was one of the most kind and thoughtful people I’ve ever known. That summer of 1990 was, and is to this day, the best summer of my life. I miss all those guys very much - Susan, Harriet, Barrett, Noel, David, Mary Ellen, Bert, Mary Virginia, Ross and many others - they’ll never know how much they meant and still mean to me. Losing Kathryn has reminded me of that. I wish so much that I could call Kat right now – I still vividly remember the tone of her voice and, of course, her laugh. We kept in touch for awhile and I even went to see her while she was at UGA. But we lost touch eventually. I’m going to regret for a long time having lost touch with her over those years. From now on, I’m going to do a better job of keeping up with the others from that summer.

I went to Kathryn’s funeral yesterday and, like two hundred other people, had to stand outside the church during the service – it was a full house. That’s only a small hint of the effect she had on those of us who were so lucky and privileged to have known her. The sight of Kathryn’s three children following their mother’s casket into the church yesterday is a haunting image that I’ll never get out of my head. At one point, her youngest daughter looked up from the shoulder of the woman who was carrying her and I saw Kathryn’s face in her – she looked so much like her. I’ll miss Kathryn dearly.