"The HIT Man"

The 12 Days of Music Christmas, Day 6: Greg Lake - I Believe In Father Christmas

2010-12-18T00:11:00.007-05:00

"I Believe In Father Christmas" is a song by Greg Lake (most famously a member of King Crimson and Emerson, Lake & Palmer), with lyrics by Peter Sinfield.

Although it is often categorised as a Christmas song this was not Lake's intention.
Lake claims to have written the song in protest at the commercialisation of Christmas.

Sinfield however, claims that the words are about a loss of innocence & childhood belief.

The song is often misinterpreted as an anti-religious song and, because of this, Lake was surprised at its success. As he stated in a Mojo magazine interview: "I find it appalling when people say it's politically incorrect to talk about Christmas, you've got to talk about 'The Holiday Season.' Christmas was a time of family warmth and love. There was a feeling of forgiveness, acceptance. And I do believe in Father Christmas."

The song was recorded by Lake in 1974 and released separately from ELP in 1975, becoming the Christmas number two in the UK charts. It is currently his only hit solo release.

A second recording done by the full trio, with a more stripped-down arrangement, was included on the 1977 album Works Volume II. It was recorded a third time in 1993, for the ELP box set The Return of the Manticore, and Lake revisited it yet again for the 2002 Sanctuary Records compilation A Classic Rock Christmas.

Today In Music History

1971, Jerry Lee Lewis and his wife Myra who he married when she was 13 divorced, as he prepared to marry 29-year old Karen Elizabeth Gunn Pate.
1983, Keith Richards married model Patti Hansen during a ceremony in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Mick Jagger was the best man.
2003, Out on bail, Michael Jackson was formally charged with seven counts of child molestation and two counts of administering intoxicating liquor to a minor with the intent of committing a crime.

#1 On the Charts Today

1961, The Tokens started a three week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight'

Born On This Day

1980, Christina Aguilera, singer, (1999 US No.1 single 'Genie In A Bottle', 1999 US No.1 album 'Christina Aguilera', 2001 No.1 single with Mya, Lil' Kim and Pink, 'Lady Marmalade').

The 12 Days of Music Christmas, Day 5: Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas /Feed the World/ 1984

2010-12-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

"Do They Know It's Christmas?" is a song written by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure in 1984 to raise money for relief of the 1984–1985 famine in Ethiopia. The original version was produced by Midge Ure and released by Band Aid on 29 November 1984.[1]

In late 1984, a BBC report by Michael Buerk was aired highlighting the famine that had hit the people of Ethiopia. Irish singer Bob Geldof saw the report and wanted to raise money. He called Midge Ure from Ultravox and together they quickly co-wrote the song, "Do They Know It's Christmas?".

Geldof put together a group called Band Aid, consisting of leading Irish and British musicians who were among the most popular of the era. The 1984 original became the biggest selling single in UK singles chart history, selling a million copies in the first week alone. It stayed at Number 1 for five weeks, becoming Christmas number one, and sold more than 3.5 million copies domestically. It remained the highest selling single in UK chart history until 1997, when Elton John's "Candle in the Wind 1997" was released in tribute to the late Diana, Princess of Wales, which sold almost 5 million copies in Britain.

Today In Music History

1963, James Carroll at WWDC in Washington, DC, became the first disc jockey to broadcast a Beatles record on American radio. Carroll played 'I Want To Hold Your Hand', which he had obtained from his stewardess girlfriend, who brought the single back from the UK. Due to listener demand, the song was played daily, every hour. Since it hadn't been released yet in the States, Capitol Records initially considered court action, but instead released the single earlier than planned.
1982, Karen Carpenter made her last live appearance with The Carpenters when she performed in Sherman, California.
1999, American jazz-funk, soul-jazz saxophonist Grover Washington Jr died of a heart attack aged 56. He collapsed in the green room after taping four songs for The Early Show, at CBS Studios in New York City, He released over 20 solo albums and featured on the 1981 Bill Withers hit ‘Just The Two of Us.’

#1 On the Charts Today

1994, Ini Kamoze started a two week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with 'Here Comes The Hotstepper'.
2006, The first winner of American Idol Leona Lewis started a 4 week run at No.1 on the UK singles chart with 'A Moment Like This', also a US No.1.

Born On This Day

1939, Eddie Kendricks, vocals, The Temptations, (1971 US No.1 single 'Just My Imagination' and solo US No.1 single 'Keep On Truckin'). Died on 5th October 1992.
1948, Jim Bonfanti, The Young Rascals, (1967 US No.1 single 'Groovin'). The Raspberries, (1972 US N.5 single 'Go All The Way').
1949, Paul Rodgers, singer, guitarist, Free, (US No.4 single 'All Right Now'). Bad Company, (1974 No.15 single 'Can't Get Enough'). Also a member of The Firm, with Jimmy Page.

The 12 Days of Music Christmas, Day 4: Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth by Bing Crosby and David Bowie

2010-12-16T01:00:00.000-05:00

I first watched Bing Crosby and David Bowie sing this combination of "Little Drummer Boy" and "Peace on Earth" on a Christmas special in the late 1970s.

I was depressed about struggling with school at the time, balancing a job and a relatively new marriage. Working the night shift did not leave me a lot of time for anything much less TV.

I remember sitting down with my wife and and watching this special, something my hectic life rarely allowed.I don't remember much about the rest of the Christmas special, but this song has stayed with me.

What I do remember is thinking that this duet was going to be laughable. Looking back however, having the old time crooner and Ziggy Stardust collaborate was genius and has stood the test of time.

It is a beautiful rendition that helped rescue that Christmas for me, as well as several since that time.

I think you will like this duet, and perhaps be moved by it, especially its call for peace on Earth which now more than ever seems to be lacking. Enjoy!Today in Music History

1997, Singer songwriter Nicolette Larson died aged 45 of complications arising from cerebral edema. Best known for her 1978 cover of Neil Young's ‘Lotta Love’.
2007, Singer songwriter Dan Fogelberg died at his home in Maine at the age of 56 of prostate cancer. Had the hits ‘Leader of the Band,’ ‘Hard to Say,’‘Run for the Roses’ and ‘Same Old Lang Syne’

#1 On the Charts Today

1965, Released as a double A side The Beatles 'Day Tripper/We Can Work It Out', became their ninth UK No.1 and their third Christmas chart topper in a row.
1972, Billy Paul started a three week run at No.1 on the singles chart with 'Me and Mrs Jones'.
1989, Billy Joel went to No.1 on the US album chart with 'Storm Front'.

Born On This Day

1945, Tony Hicks, guitar, The Hollies, over 25 Top 40 hits since 1963 including 1972 No.2 single 'Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress' and 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' first released in 1969.
1946, Benny Anderson, keyboards, vocals, Abba, (1977 No.1 single 'Dancing Queen')
1950, Bill Gibbons, guitar, vocals, ZZ Top. Hits include 'Legs'and'Sharp Dressed Man'.

The 12 Days of Music Christmas, Day 3: Merry Christmas Darling by Karen & Richard Carpenter

2010-12-15T21:43:00.022-05:00

In the movie Lethal Weapon, Mel Gibson called it "the silly season".

That time of year when holiday shoppers get up before the sun and camp out in the cold so that they can trample or be trampled by people in their rush to get to that Black Friday sale item or this years hot toy.

That is why every year since I was 14 or 15, I manage to get all of my holiday shopping completed by Thanksgiving. No last minute rushing around, no getting caught in the crush of people, no arguing over parking spaces.

I just sit back and literally watch the parade go bye bye and enjoy the colored lights.

I have paid for all of my gifts since an early age. Using money that I earned cutting lawns, shoveling walks, bagging groceries or selling pop, snacks, popcorn and souvenirs at music concerts and events like the Circus and the Ice Capades (does that even exist anymore).

I made what was a ton of money to a kid back then and since you could only sell before the show and during breaks, I also got to see great performers "live and in concert".

I saw a wide and diverse group of performers, Elvis, The Ike and Tina Turner Revue, the Supreme's, Paul Revere & the Raiders, Andy Williams, the Righteous Brothers and the Carpenters.

I can still remember sitting on the cold concrete stairs of the Denver Coliseum and watching in awe, unable to move as Karen Carpenter sang "Superstar" under the spotlight. A voice that to me was sweet and pure and full of unrequited love. That night I fell in love with that song, with Karen Carpenter and with music.

Today In Music History

1944, Hank Williams married Audrey Guy. The ceremony took place at a filling station.
1956, Elvis Presley gave his final performance on Louisiana Hayride. Presley made 50 appearances on the show. At the end of the show, Horace Logan first made the now legendary phrase ‘Elvis has left the building’.
1990, Rod Stewart married New Zealand model Rachel Hunter in Beverly Hills. Stewart was quoted as saying 'I Found the Girl that I Want, I won't be putting my banana in anybody's fruit bowl from now on'. They split in 1999.

#1 On the Charts Today

1979, Pink Floyd started a five week run at No.1 on the singles chart with 'Another Brick In The Wall, (part 2).
1984, 'Do They Know It's Christmas' by Band Aid entered the UK chart at No.1 and stayed at the top for five weeks. It became the biggest selling UK single of all time with sales over 3 and a half million.

Born On This Day

1919, Max Yasgur, owner of the Woodstock farm where the 1969 festival was held. Yasgur died of a heart attack on 8th February 1973 aged 53.
1942, Dave Clark, Dave Clark Five, (1964 UK No.1 single 'Glad All Over', 1965 US No.1 single 'Over And Over').

The 12 Days of Music Christmas, Day 2: Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg

2010-12-14T21:02:00.021-05:00

During the mid-seventies in my hometown of Boulder, Colorado there were two things that were guaranteed during the month of December, beautiful snow falls on the "flatirons" and hearing Dan Fogelbergs "Same Old Lang Syne" on the radio. As Fogelberg tells it on his official website, the song is totally autobiographical. He was visiting family back home in Peoria, Illinois in the mid-'70s when he ran into an old girlfriend at a convenience store.

After Fogelberg's death from prostate cancer in 2007, the woman who he wrote the song about came forward with her story. Her name is Jill Greulich, and she and Fogelberg dated in high school when she was Jill Anderson. As she explained to the Peoria Journal Star in a December 22, 2007 article, they were part of the Woodruff High School class of 1969, but went to different colleges.

After college, Jill got married and moved to Chicago, and Dan went to Colorado to pursue music. On Christmas Eve, they were each back in Peoria with their families when Jill went out for egg nog and Dan was dispatched to find whipping cream for Irish coffee. The only place open was a convenience store at the top of Abington Hill, at Frye Avenue and Prospect Road, and that's where they had their encounter.

They bought a six pack of beer and drank it in her car for 2 hours while they talked.

Five years later, Jill heard "Same Old Lang Syne" on the radio while driving to work, but she kept quiet about it, as Fogelberg also refused to reveal her identity. Her main concern was that coming forward would disrupt Fogelberg's marriage.

Looking at the lyrics, Jill says there are 2 inaccuracies: She has green eyes, not blue, and her husband was not an architect - he was a physical education teacher, and it's unlikely Fogelberg knew his profession anyway. Regarding the line, "She would have liked to say she loved the man, but she didn't like to lie," Jill won't talk about it, but she had divorced her husband by the time the song was released.

Today in Music History, December 14

1969, The Jackson Five made their first network television appearance in the US when they appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show.
1977, The film 'Saturday Night Fever' starring John Travolta premiered in New York.
1999, Sir Paul McCartney appeared at The Cavern Club Liverpool, his last gig at the venue was in 1963. The show was filmed for TV and also went out live on the Internet.

#1 On the Charts Today

1968, Marvin Gaye scored his first US No.1 single when 'I Heard It Through The Grapevine' started a five-week run at the top.
1991, Michael Jackson started a four-week run at No.1 on the US album chart with 'Dangerous'.
1997, Garth Brooks was at No.1 on the US album chart with ‘Sevens’ his fourth US No.1album.

Born on this Day

1932, Charlie Rich, singer, (1974 US No.1 single 'The Most Beautiful Girl'). Rich died on 25th July 1995.
1946, Joyce Vincent Wilson, singer, Dawn, (1971 US No.1 single 'Knock Three Times', 1973 US No.1 single 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree').

Today in Music History - December 9, 2010

2010-12-09T01:35:00.008-05:00

21 Years ago today in 1989,

Billy Joel started a two week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with 'We Didn't Start The Fire'.

"We Didn't Start the Fire" is a song by Billy Joel that makes reference to a catalogue of headline events during his lifetime, from March 1949 (Joel was born on May 9 of that year) to 1989, when the song was released on his album Storm Front.

The events are mixed with a refrain asserting "we didn't start the fire". The song was a number-one hit in the US, and its tune has been the foundation of many topic-specific parodies.

Unlike most of Joel's songs, the lyrics were written before the melody, owing to the somewhat unusual style of the song. The song was a huge commercial success and was Joel's third Billboard #1 hit. It was nominated for the Grammy Award for Record of the Year.

Blender magazine ranked "We Didn't Start the Fire" #41 on its list of the "50 Worst Songs Ever", a list that also includes songs from Paul McCartney and Simon & Garfunkel. They considered the production bombastic and stated that the song "resembles a term paper scribbled the night before it’s due."

Today in Music History

1961, The Beatles played at the Palais Ballroom in Aldershot to a crowd of just 18 people. The date had not been advertised, owing to the local newspaper's refusal to accept the promoter's check. After the show The Beatles became rowdy, getting themselves ordered out of town by the local police.

1967, The Doors appeared at the New Haven Arena, New Haven, Connecticut. Before the show a policeman found singer Jim Morrison making out with an 18 year-old girl in a backstage shower and after an argument the policeman sprays mace in Morrison’s face. Once on stage Morrison tells the story of the backstage episode and starts taunting the police who drag him off the stage and arrest him. The crowd riots leaving the venue in disarray and many are arrested. Later over 100 protestors gathered at the police station in demonstration and more arrests were made.

2003, Ozzy Osbourne was admitted to Wexham Park Hospital in Slough, Berkshire after being injured in a quad bike accident at his UK home. The 55 year-old singer broke his collarbone, eight ribs and a vertebra in his neck. News of Osbourne's accident reached the House of Commons, where the government sent a goodwill message.

#1 On the Charts Today

1972, Helen Reddy went to No.1 on the US singles chart with 'I Am Woman'.

1972, The Moody Blues started a five-week run at No.1 on the US album chart with 'Seventh Sojourn'.

Born on This Day

1943, Rick Danko, guitar, vocals, The Band. Died 10th December 1999.

1943, John Traynor, Jay and the Americans, (1969 US No.6 single 'This Magic Moment plus nine other US Top 30 hits). Left the group after their 1962 hit, 'She Cried'. He was replaced by new lead singer David Blatt, who began calling himself Jay Black.

1957, Donny Osmond, singer, (1971 US No.1 single with ‘Go Away Little Girl’, a 1972 UK No.1 single with ‘Puppy Love’ plus seven other UK Top 40 singles). As part of The Osmonds he enjoyed a 1971 US No.1 single with ‘One Bad Apple’.

Today In Music History - December 8, 2010

2010-12-08T00:01:00.013-05:00

30 years ago today in 1980,

John Winston Ono Lennon, MBE (9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980) was an English musician and singer-songwriter who rose to worldwide fame as one of the founding members of The Beatles and, with Paul McCartney, formed one of the most successful songwriting partnerships of the 20th century.

Born and raised in Liverpool, Lennon became involved as a teenager in the skiffle craze; his first band, The Quarrymen, evolved into The Beatles in 1960. As the group disintegrated towards the end of the decade, Lennon embarked on a solo career that would produce the critically acclaimed albums John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band and Imagine, and iconic songs such as "Give Peace a Chance" and "Imagine".

Lennon disengaged himself from the music business in 1975 to devote time to his family, but re-emerged in 1980 with a new album, Double Fantasy. He was murdered three weeks after its release.

Lennon was shot five times by 25 year old Mark Chapman outside the Dakota building in New York City. Chapman asked for an autograph as Lennon walked through the courtyard. As he signed a piece of paper Chapman fired. Lennon was pronounced dead from a massive loss of blood at 11.30pm.

Shortly after local news stations reported Lennon's death, crowds gathered at Roosevelt Hospital and in front of The Dakota. He was cremated on 10 December 1980, at the Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale, New York; the ashes were given to his wife, Yoko Ono, who chose not to hold a funeral for him.

Today In Music History
1961, The Beach Boys first single 'Surfin' was released.

1963, Frank Sinatra Jr was kidnapped at gunpoint from a hotel in Lake Tahoe. He was released two days later after his father paid out the $240,000 ransom.

#1 On the Charts Today
1984, Hall and Oates started a two week run at No.1 on the singles chart with 'Out Of Touch'.

Born On This Day
1925, Sammy Davis Jr, singer, actor, (1972 No.1 single 'The Candy Man'). Died of throat cancer on 16th May 1990.

1943, Jim Morrison, vocals, The Doors, (1967 No.1 single 'Light My Fire'). Morrison died of heart failure in a bathtub in a Paris hotel on 3rd July 1971.

1947, Gregg Allman, keyboards, guitar, vocals, Allman Brothers Band, (1973 No.12 single 'Ramblin Man').

I Love You Bronco Billy

2010-06-10T23:10:00.028-04:00

"I love you Bronco Billy"
- Sondra Locke to Clint Eastwood in Bronco Billy

What do Clint Eastwood, Sondra Locke and Bronco Billy all have in common with me, a kid from the projects of north Denver? Stick around and I'll explain.

I never imaged that I would end up as a professional fundraiser. It's not that raising money to find a cure for cancer or diabetes isn't worthwhile - it is. Or that pitching coffee mugs and concert tickets to help keep the likes of Barney, Big Bird and Lawrence Welk on the air wasn't an honorable profession - it too was a respectable job. It paid the rent and didn't keep me up nights. I believed then and still do today, that I was doing something good for children and their grandmothers alike.

But I started out as a disc jockey, DJ, announcer, record spinner -- ahem -- radio broadcaster and I never intended to help raise money for charitable causes. Ever since I could remember I had listened to the jocks on the classic AM radio stations broadcasting in Denver and dreamed of being one of them.

There was 85 KOA with the perennial Bob Martin calling the play-by-play of the Denver Broncos long before anyone had ever heard the name John Elway. Back in those days the Bronco's were coached by Lou Saban, were dismal at best and the only bright and shining light was running back Floyd Little. The overnight host at KOA was Alan Berg. Alan was an attorney and former clothing store owner who would make national headlines after he was was shot 13 times and killed by members of the white supremacist group "The Order." In 1988, Olive Stone directed the film "Talk Radio" which was based on Berg's death. I had the pleasure of meeting Alan and while he could raise the ire of his listeners with the simplest topic discussion, like which way the toilet paper roll should go -- over or under -- I never imagined that someone would murder him as brutally as they did. Sitting in his studio while he interviewed a friend of mine, a local up and coming singer, I knew I wanted to be in radio.

Over at 630 KHOW was Hal & Charlie and a young John Lanigan before he made the trek east and became an institution in Cleveland radio. You can hear Hal & Charlie in the 1980 Stanley Kubrick film "The Shining" as one of the characters listens to their show while he is navigating his way up the mountain road during a blizzard.

Every morning my radio alarm would wake me up for school just in time for me to hear Harry Smith signing off from his all night show. Harry would always sign off with the last few lines from the Beatles song "The End." "... and in the end the love you take, is equal to the love you make..." Harry would later go on to be a program host on A&E and a news anchor and morning show host at CBS television.

BUT - the Mother of 'em all, the Queen of Denver radio was off the shores of Sloans Lake in Denver ... 95 KIMN AM! K-I-M-N was THEE radio station in Denver in those days. It was how I imagined radio was in Philly, Detroit, Cleveland and New York. It was "personality" radio with names like Danny Davis, Robert E. Lee, Pogo Pog, Paxton Mills, Gary Owens (who later became the announcer on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In) and the Denver radio giant, Jay Mack.

All those announcers became my inspiration for wanting to be on-air and so when I had the chance, I did. For eight glorious years I spun records (no Cd's until my last year) did remote broadcasts, read the news, put President Jimmy Carter on hold more than once (read the blog I Am the Morning DJ for that tidbit) gave away stuff and had the time of my life.

All that changed one day when a flyer was mailed to the station. The local PBS station was looking for "celebrities" to work their televised auction.

The next thing I know, I'm being asked to come back and do more auctions and pledge drives, then I'm interning, then I'm helping to produce and then I'm hired on as an Associate Producer (or as an Ass. Prod. as it showed up on my check stubs) and that's how my fundraising career began. from talking on the radio to talking on TV.

TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK!

I learned that I had the gift of gab and could sometimes even put two sentences together at time to make a compelling presentation as to why you should support my career non-profit du jour.

I was soon courted away from Denver's PBS to one in Dallas and then to Cleveland where on my very first night there met my future wife. Then one day by a health related agency in Nashville Tennessee. The American Heart Association came calling and off I went again -- packing my belongings into yet another U-Haul and headin' off to another adventure.

Nashville, Music City USA, Home of the Grand Ol' Opry, the Ryman Auditorium and Music Row. All of that tied together with my love of music had me in heaven. You never knew who you would run into while walking around town. Ran head first into Vince Gill at the local pancake house, sat back-to-back to country legend Eddy Arnold while eating lunch and ran into Emmylou Harris at the local music store. At the Nashville airport one day, I picked up my suitcase, spun around without looking and knocked singer Kathy Mattea flat on her backside.

I learned to speak "Southern," ate at some terrific local BYOB cafes and met country music legend Brenda Lee at the Bell Buckle RC Cola & Moon Pie Festival. The people were great, my co-workers terrific and the volunteers were generous and giving beyond belief ... some of the best I've ever had the pleasure of working with.

There was one volunteer in particular named Dwight, or if you spoke "Southern," DEE-wight. DEE-wight would go with me on sponsorship calls to local businesses like Jack Daniels, yes thee Jack Daniels, the makers of smooooth sipping whiskey in Lynchburg, TN and then take me to lunch at a local restaurant in Shelbyville. At one time Shelbyville or "The Pencil City," was known for being the center of the pencil making industry but was now better known for the Tennessee Walking Horse National Celebration that has taken place there since 1938. For 11 days every year people from around the world gather to name World Champions.

One day DEE-wight and I were in the diner seated at "The Table." Every small town has their version of "The Table"... it's the one table in that one restaurant that everyone goes to for lunch. It's reserved for the Mayor, the Bank President, all the local dignitaries and on that day, me, since I was a guest of DEE-wight.

But I digress ... so we're sitting having lunch at "The Table" and I feel pretty proud of myself. we had just secured a major sponsorship from Jack Daniels, the event was on track to hit it's goal, the sun was bright and shining and I was at -- "The Table" -- when a man walks over dressed in clean but worn green workers pants and green denim shirt with a matching green ball cap, sort of like the garb a gardener might wear.

The guy waves at DEE-wight, sits down next to me, says "Hello" and pushes his beat up ball cap back on his head.

Now I learned along time ago that you never judge a person's wealth or stature in the community by his clothes. I had met many high end donors who at first glance resembled something out of the painting "American Gothic, " the famous 1930 Grant Wood painting of an elderly couple on the farm with the farmer holding a pitchfork. So when this guy sat down next to me at "The Table" I didn't give it a second thought

As the waitress poured him a cup of coffee, DEE-wight says to me "Have you ever heard of Sondra Locke?" Hey, my biggest love, next to music was TV and movies and movie and TV trivia. I had played on a team at the University of Colorado's TRIVIA BOWL. The annual gathering and competition that pitted teams against each other to see who was had the best trivia knowledge in the ENTIRE WORLD!

My head is like the big warehouse scene at the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark." With each one of those crates filled with useless knowledge about who starred in this movie, what line was said by whom, what was this actors real name. My wife gets annoyed because I speak the dialogue to movies before they actors in the movies do.

So when DEE-wight asked me about Sondra Locke, phffffft, that was easy... a snap ... child splay.

"Sondra Locke!" I said "Sondra Locke, the actress?"
"The one who lived with Clint Eastwood for years and then ended up being his stalker?"
"The one who was in a ton of his movies, like Bronco Billy?"
"I read that he had broke up with her he had to change all the locks on his house and get a restraining order to keep her away."
"Then she took him to court several times for palimony and breach of contract and sued the movie studio too!"
"Sondra Locke, the one who directed one of the worst movies ever -- RAT BOY!"
"The story around Hollywood is that she's difficult, overbearing, hard to work with and just plain crazy!"

I felt like I had just scored triple-points at the Trivia Bowl.

Feeling proud of myself and trying not to dislocate my shoulder by patting myself on the back, I said "That Sondra Locke?"

"Why ..... ?"

"Well ... " DEE-wight slowly drawled, placing his hand on my arm, this BIG grin slowly making it's way across his face ... trying hard not to laugh.
"What ...?" I said, puzzled.
Bursting out he says "That's her brother sitting next to you! AHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

Shocked! Afraid to move, afraid to turn and face the man seated to my left, my eyes slowly turned as far as they could in their sockets so that I see his reaction without moving any part of my body. Looking down at the table I saw the cap he had been wearing that was now next to his coffee mug and emblazoned on the cap above the brim were the words Locke Heating & Cooling.

"AHHH Haaaaa haaa haaaa haaaa haaaaa" continued DEE-wight! Other customers now turned to see what was sooooooo funny.

Slowly turning in my seat, I came face-to-face with Mr. Don Locke, lifelong resident of Shelbyville, TN, owner of Locke Heating & Cooling and brother of the previously mentioned actress Sondra Locke.

"Mr Locke, please forgive me, Sir please accept my apology, I am soooooo sorry Sir!" The words just fell all over themselves trying to escape my mouth. All the while roars of laughter came from DEE-wight while his huge left hand slapped me on the back! His feet now stomping the floor as he nearly feel out of his chair.

I watched and waited for the tirade to come from this southern gentleman who's Sister I had slighted, who's family name I had made fun of ... it never came.

Picking up his cap and putting it slowly back on his head, Mr. Locke looked me sternly in the eye ... winked ... and said "She is crazy!"

I've learned several important key points as a fundraiser, always ask for more than you want, never leave any money on the table, always order more port-o-potties than you need, never judge a person's giving capacity by what they're wearing ... and ALWAYS read the logos on their cap and shirt.

Who Can It Be Now?

2010-03-25T18:29:00.009-04:00

Who can it be knocking at my door?

Go 'way, don't come 'round here no more.

Can't you see that it's late at night?

I'm very tired, and I'm not feeling right.

All I wish is to be alone; Stay away, don't you invade my home.

Best off if you hang outside, Don't come in - I'll only run and hide.

Who can it be now? Who can it be now?

- Men at Work

Back in the summer of 1978, my wife Susie, the former Mrs JT and I had moved up from a spacious single-wide trailer, oops, I mean mobile home, to a palatial double-wide model. The new home on wheels needed a much larger space and since there were no open spaces available in the park where we were living, it meant moving from Boulder, Colorado to another park down the road on Highway 119 to Longmont.

For those of you having never been on 119, it is the two lane road that takes you between Boulder and Longmont, Colorado, depending on which way your Subaru is heading.

Boulder in the 70's and to this day took pride in many things, being recognized as one of the healthiest places to live, (okay, maybe after all the pot smoke cleared out first) the University of Colorado, IBM, Mork and Mindy, KBCO FM and Celestial Seasoning Tea. In the beginning the founder of Celestial Seasoning, Mo Siegel, would traipse around Boulder and the surrounding Rockies, picking up different flora to make his world famous Red Zinger tea. Then he and his friends would dry them and package them in hand-sewn muslin bags. HAND SEWN!

Back in the 70's I was picking "herbage" of a different type and downing an entire Sara Lee Black Forest cake, nightly, as a result.

Every weekend we would head up to the nearby town of Nederland, home of the famous Caribou Ranch recording studios, to play volley ball at the home of our good friends, Penny and Joe. Their home was so rustic it had an actual 25 foot tree trunk growing out of the living room and up to the roof.

We would play for hours, working on our mountain tans and drinking endless bottles of "Mickey's" beer. Penny and Joe had run a bar somewhere near the east coast and were friends with musicians who had come up through their club. You never knew who was going to be on the phone with Joe. He'd pick up the phone and call his bud' John Denver to hit him up for championship fight tickets just as if he were calling for a cab.

Boulder was famous for their "SUN-DAYS" concerts. Barry Fey, the rock promoter and guru of 70's concerts would set up shows that would last the entire day. Fey was a HUGE man who was also very LOUD and boisterous. Rumor has it that he pulled a gun on Axel Rose during a Guns n' Roses show to keep Axel from walking out.

Set up at the University of Colorado's Folsom Field, Fey would put on shows that where you could enjoy an unbelievable list of performers for a $15 ticket. The day would start out at 10 am with someone like John Sebastian, followed by Bob Seger or Heart, then the Doobie Brothers and close out with Boston or Fleetwood Mac. It was incredible!

Longmont was quite the opposite from Boulder. Just 30 miles east, yet you could see and feel the transition as you drove from one to the other. Boulder was sandstone, hippies and "herbs" ... Longmont was rural Americana with a "main-drag" and the sugar beet mill.

We parked our new home in a mobile home park nine miles east of Longmont just off I-25 and Hwy 119. On one side of the park was a large truck stop and on the other side were our "house" was situated was a large corn field. On a cool summer night you could hear the corn rustling in the breeze, highlighted by the soft, soothing sounds of semi's "jake-breaking" along the interstate.

In the summer the corn would grow as high as the proverbial elephant's eye, with crop dusters buzzing within throwing distance of our bedroom window. Like something out of a Hitchcock movie.

In the fall and winter after the corn had been harvested, there was an unobstructed view of the snow-capped Longs Peak off in the distance. I worked at the local grocery store in town and would ride my motorcycle home after the store closed. Cruising down Main Street, the mufflers giving off their "potato, potato, potato" rumble, I'd listen to my "tunes" on a bible sized WALK-MAN tucked into my black nylon jacket.

Heading south and driving past one of the nation's first Wendy's restaurants and cruising by one of the earliest JC Penny's, Bob Seger would fill the night air.

"... out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy ..."

I headed east towards the trailer park, pulled the throttle back and made a bee line for home in the distance.

" ... workin' on mysteries without any clues, workin' on our night moves ... "

I would arrive home most nights around midnight, eat my dinner that my wife would leave out for me, watch a little bit of the show "Tomorrow with Tom Snyder" and then head off for bed. With no central air, I usually would sleep ... (kids, cover your eyes!) ... au natural.

Normally I'd enjoy a nice pleasant 8 hours of sleep, wind blowing gently, trucks ... well, you know. "Then came that one night ... that night after the movies"

"JOE" my wife whispered again. I thought I heard it the first time but in my sleep, hoped it would go away. (JT hadn't been invented yet)
"JOE" again this time shaking me ...
"What?" I said this time a little more than annoyed.
"There IS someone in the HOUSE!"
It was one of those whispers that sends chills up and down your spine and takes your breath away.
"WHAT?!?"
"SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "They'll hear you..."

The bedroom was situated at the back of our new super-duper deluxe double wide trailer ... oops ... I mean mobile home. The Master Suite taking up one side and the Master Bath taking up the other half. A long hallway lead to the other bedrooms, guest bath, dining room, kitchen, servants quarters ... just checking ... dining room, kitchen and laundry room with a door to the outside.

One of the great pluses of living in rural farm land is that there are no lights and the stars flood the night sky. The downside is that at night, especially indoors, it's dark as coal. On this particular night it seemed even blacker.

I could barely make out the face of my wife in the darkeness, much less see down the hallway to see the intruder headed our way. I knew he was coming, I could hear the floor boards creaking, sense his very presence near the door. almost smell his breth ... plus Susie kept telling me he was there.

There was only one thing to do ...
"Susie, I'll go out the window out on to the lawn and you jump out behind me!" "Don't worry, I'll catch you!"
Pulling the screen from the window, I tossed it out side and then followed it onto the lawn. I jumped across the irrigation ditch and into the corn field ... "double crap" I forgot Susie!
Running back to the house I yelled "Susie!" "C'mon ... JUMP!" I could sense that something was wrong. "SUSIE!"
I tried jumping up to the open window but it was too high. Every time I tried I would scratch another part of my naked self that was now getting cold in the night air.

I turned and ran to the side door - LOCKED!
I ran along the side of the house to the front street doing the "ouchy ouchy" dance on the gravel driveway. I had to get back inside before HE killed my wife.

I made it to the front of the house, up the porch and to the door - LOCKED!
The monster had locked the door when he broke in or maybe he didn't even use the door, maybe another window that we had left open for the breeze.
I began to pound on the door and holler for all to hear me ...
"HELP!" HELP" "SOMEBODY HELP ME" "PLEASE ... HE'S KILLING HER!"

A soft "click" and then "OWW MY EYES" A bright flash and then the door opened. Susie now stood in the doorway with that wobly, "I just woke up" stance, eyes half open. It was then I realized that she had turned on the porch light before opening the door and I was in full view for all the the neighbors to see. Neighbors who were now either peeking through their windows or standing on their porches, having just heard my screams for help.

Quickly I ran past here to get to her attacker, running from room to room - nothing. There was nothing there at all. No stranger, no rapist, no murderer. "What the ..."
"Where did he go?" "Are you okay?"
"Where did who go?" as she rubbed her eyes.
"The burglar!"
"Ohhhhhhhh"
"What!?!"
Looking sheepish she said "there was no burglar." "I was having a dream"
"A dream?"
"Yeah ... about E.T."
"WHAT?"

"You know... like in the movie tonight." "Little E.T." "Wasn't he cute?"
"YOU WERE DREAMING ABOUT E.T.?"
"Yes ... I told you already, little E.T."

I couldn't belive what I was hearing. I had risked my life for a dream. Naked, I turned and walked towards the bedroom, back to where it began.
Behind me I heard Susie asking "what were you doing outside without any clothes on?"

"Tryin' to make some front page drive-in news
Workin' on our night moves
In the summertime
In the sweet sumertime ... summertime"

I am the morning DJ!

2010-03-16T14:02:00.008-04:00

"I am the mornin' DJ on W O L D!

Playin' all the hits for you, where ever you may be

The bright good-mornin' voice, who's heard but never seen

Feelin' all of forty-five, goin' on fifteen"

WOLD by Harry Chapin

Long before I produced membership campaigns for PBS and NPR and even longer than before I coordinated Black Tie events, golf outings and "walks" for various health-related non-profit organizations, I was a radio announcer ... okay, DJ! I never imagined that my career path would lead me to Dallas, Cleveland, Nashville and Cleveland again. As for most of us, my life took some different twists and turns that landed me in Ohio.

Tired of having spent most of my life behind the cash registers and grocery aisles of Colorado's largest grocery chain, a job I held since I was 15, I set off to pursue my dream job of being on the radio at the age of 28. My first station was a rural station in Deer Trail, Colorado. I did the farm reports, played the hits of Kitty Wells and Patsy Cline and drove a 120 miles round trip for $25 a shift, just to be on-air. The station was a "sunshine" station - licensed to be on the air one hour before sunrise until one hour after sunset. That meant that in the fall and winter, I would sign off at 6 pm and in the spring and summer it could be as late as 10 pm.

I did the rounds at other stations, midnight to six, morning and afternoon drive time slots, fill-work, voice overs for real estate TV, oldies bars and smoke filled "meat market" dance clubs. Finally I got a job at one of the areas most history-filled and progressive radio stations. Punching through the airwaves in Boulder, Colorado, the signal bouncing off the sandstone buildings of the University of Colorado, the Rocky Mountains and the five giant rock formations simply called "The Flatirons" because they resembled those small appliances we use to press clothes. There's a picture of the snow-capped Flatirons at the bottom of this post.

With a new job at the Boulder station came a new name ... If you had known me in the 60's, you called me Joey. That's what my family called me then.

By the 70's and early 80's it was Joe.

Joe was fine for the airwaves of the rural eastern plains (Mornin' this is Joe with the hog futures from the Chicago mercantile) but this was BOULDER, the Haight Ashbury of the Rockies. Elton John, The Eagles, Dan Fogelberg, Jackson Browne and Chicago would fly in just to record at Caribou Ranch, just up the road. Elton John even named one of his albums CARIBOU after that studio.

The name had to be hip, cool, memorable, catchy ... like Dr. Johnny Fever from the hit TV show, "WKRP in Cincinnati!"

I could hear it now ... "It's the round-mound-of-sound, playin' stax-of-wax and moldy oldies..." "HOLY CRAP!" What was I thinking? It needed to be urbane, sexy, Colorado-esqe.

Then it came to me, yes, it was the 80's and Sonny Crockett and MIAMI VICE was the king of Friday television ... "JT the Hitman!" My promo was full of the sounds of screeching tires, explosions, machine guns and the voices of my two young daughters "now here's our Dad" followed by a booming voice announcing, "IT'S JT the HITMAN!"

Just like the "Sunday ... Sunday ... Sunday" spots announcing the weekend drag races ... but with taste. Sort of like a fine wine that doesn't screw up the taste of your bucket of KFC.

I was having the time of my life, working air-shifts, doing "remotes" around town and being near what I enjoyed the most ... music. I promised myself that I would quit being a dj when it quit being fun.

One year an intern named Steph' came to work at the station and soon she was part of the staff, writing her own copy. producing her own stories and bouncing back the "patter" that I would toss her way during the broadcasts we did together for five years.

"Hey Steph'?" after playing the Carpenters.

"Yes JT"

"Did you know that Karen Carpenter has been dead for 10 years now and they just sold her house?"

"Really? How come?"

"NO KITCHEN!"

That's Steph' and me at a local PBS Auction in the photo above. In the picture she is helping to shave off half of my mustache on LIVE TV, to raise money for public television. As Forrest Gump would say "we wuz like peas an' carrots ... an' then she wuz' gone..." One day Steph' left to work as a TV anchor in Texas ...

I never saw her again.

Her replacement seemed nice enough. Her on-air name was ... let's just say for legal purposes shall we ... Jill St. John. Forget the fact that Jill St. John was a well recognized TV and motion picture star, that's what she went with.

Jill was a little stiff on-air and we never hit it off together. where Steph' was quick with a comeback "Jill" never really got the timing OR the jokes for that matter. Where Steph' would come in early and rewrite her news stories, "Jill" would show up at 5:50 am, tires burning in the parking lot, run into the newsroom and "rip and read" the news off of the wire.

Things went from bad to worse one day on-air when I tried to include her in my shtick.

"Hey Jill?" I asked one morning in December.

"what?"
"Have you been a good girl, is Santa bringing you presents?"

"I AM NOT A GIRL ... I AM A WOMAN ...!"

Like a snowball rolling down Boulder canyon, picking up speed and getting bigger and bigger, that's how big the acrimony became after that. Yet I couldn't leave it alone. A bad trait that my friends, ex and current wife will attest too.

I started to leave "Jill" out of the broadcast and only announced her during news breaks ...

"It's 6:55 - five minutes away from 7 o'clock and the Boulder Valley headlines with Jill St. John."

"Yes, if it's happening in Colorado and the Boulder Valley .... it's news to Jill St John."

What? No really ... what was wrong with that?

Okay, I should have apologized ... but I didn't. The snowball was getting bigger and would soon turn into an avalanche.

One bright sunny morning, 5:55 am, just like clock work, "Jill's" car came careening into the parking lot. I noticed it was 5:55 because the mic' was open and as I was announcing the next song, she slammed through the front door, ran through the station, into the sound booth screaming "If someone calls for me DON'T put them on hold!" Bang slammed the door to the newsroom.

"... and here's the Stones to take us to headlines"

6:00 am comes and goes, "Jill" reads the news, I do the weather and spin the next record (CD's were a year or two away) and have my coffee.

A few seconds before I que up the next song - BRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGG! "Crap!" BRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGG the phone continues ... BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGG! ten seconds before I have to open the mic' .... BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGG !!! "Why isn't SHE picking up the phone!" BRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGGG! "Double CRAP!" I pick up the phone and say "Good morning! It's JT, Please hold!"

I start the song, do a couple of spots, start the next song and seeing the flashing red light. "Thanks for holding, how can I help you?" A voice like syrup on velvet, soft and peaceful, avuncular says "May I please speak with Jill St John?"

"Yes sir you may ...." and then again ... "please hold."

"Coming up next it's sports with Bob Costas and then I'll tell you what the weathers going to be like ... all that and much more after Chicago"

Bob tells us about the world of sports, I tell everyone how great the weekend is going to be ... "Double-Crap!" Picking up the phone "I'm sorry for putting you on hold again, you were holding for Jill, right?"

Now if there is anything that I learned from living in the South (Dallas) and the deep South (Nashville) that a native from there can tell you to "kiss their ass" and make it seem sweet and innocent if that pleasentry is followed with "bless yur' heart" in a long thick southern drawl.

Now the voice on the phone didn't say it, didnt refer to it, didn't lose it's calm ... but I felt it when it said "Why yes I am ..." I could almost feel the molasses dripping off of the unsaid "bless yur' heart!"

"I'm going to get her myself" Yet again 'please hold!" I set the phone down and ran to get Jill but it was too late. I met her walking down the hall, coffe cup in one hand, headline copy in the other. I watched as she turned her head saw and saw the phone line blinking. It was like a dream, like slow-motion, her eyes turning to burning orbs, the stench of brimstone filled the air!" I was doomed.

"Who's on hold?" she demanded ...

"Uhhhh... it's for you ...."

"WHAT!" YOU PUT THEM ON HOLD?"

" Well... not exactly" "I put them on hold ... oh I don't know ... maybe three times..."

"I ASKED YOU NOT TO!"

"Well it was more like you tol ......"

"It's Mother bleeping" There was no word bleeping.

"It's Mother FUDGGGGGGGGE" only it wasn't fudge ... President Jimmy Carter!!!

"Well that would be the FORMER President, Jimmy Carter" I said

Screaming she ran to the news room to speak with James Earl Carter, Jr. the pride of Plains, Georgia and 39th President of the United States. Mr. Carter, at the time, was better known for his involvement with Habit for Humanity and in Boulder for that reason.

Yes, I had put him on hold not once, not twice, but three times. what kind of President makes his own calls?

Soon after that day, a flyer came to the station from the local PBS affiliate looking for volunteers to work their auction. I responded yes and soon after that I had moved from volunteer to intern to actually producing those very same programs for KRMA-TV Six in Denver.

As for the radio station, I had offers to move to larger cities, take on bigger roles, but it just wasn't fun anymore.

"Hey Steph?'

"Yes JT?"

"How many times do you think I can put the most powerful man in the world on hold?"

Happy Birthday Donny Osmond

2009-12-09T20:21:00.004-05:00

Every picture tells a story

won't you listen to mine ?

I'm searching for the answer

but it's so hard to find.

You'll see much deeper when you read between the lines 'cause there's a fire burning in my eyes.

Like a thief in the night who can't get enough I am willing to fight 'cause I'm a soldier of love.

Soldier of Love - Donny Osmond

It was a dark and stormy night ... no really ... IT WAS!

During my tenure as pledge drive producer for a number of PBS affiliate stations, I had the pleasure of meeting and working with some of the entertainment industry's nicest (and not so nice) performers. The list is really amazing to me still. Many of them filled my record collection as a kid and many I watched as I would lay on the floor in front of the TV. They were the Moody Blues, Fleetwood Mac, Peter, Paul and Mary, John Denver. Mr. Rogers and the original "Donald," Mr. Purple Socks, Donald Clark Osmond, other wise known as Donny.

So on this, his birthday, I thought I would share a story that to this day, Donny probably has no idea that it happened.

You have all seen a pledge drive for public television. You're enjoying your favorite episode of Mystery, Barnie, NOVA or one of the other wonderful shows when suddenly there is a host asking you, imploring you to support YOUR public television station. "And for $60 we'll send you this beautiful coffee mug that you can enjoy your coffee in while watching your favorite ..." and so on.

For nearly 15 tears I was either in front of the camera asking for that support or behind it putting the show together.

When word got out that Donny Osmond would be visiting our station you would have thought we were a store on black Friday and we were giving away free TVs.

Hours before he was scheduled to arrive, cars full of his fans arrived at the station parking lot, lining up to get a glimpse of the "Puppy Love" crooner. whenever a new car or van would pull into the lot, the doors of the cars would open and the "gophering" would begin with people sticking their heads out of their cars just far enough to see over the other cars, like gophers in a field.

A slight rain began to fall as I received word that Donny's limo was right around the corner. Earlier I had instructed the production assistant, Kelly, to wait in the parking lot and guide the car to the back of the building and into the station garage. I paged Kelly over the parking lot loud speaker and let her know that the car would be coming into the lot at any moment and to guide them into the waiting car bay... forgetting that EVERYONE else could hear my instructions also!

As I opened the garage door, I was was met with the sight of a long stretch limo headed for me. Running desperately behind, like someone trying to catch a train was Kelly the production assistant, followed by about 20 shrieking female fans of all shapes and sizes.

I have an image that still haunts me today ... as the limo made it into the garage I hit the close button and the door came down slowly.

Like Chief Brody in the movie JAWS as he watched in horror as boat capn' Quint slips into the giant shark, I closed my eyes as I watched as the throng began to engulf Kelly. I turned and began to walk away from the door and to the limousine to greet Mr. Osmond.

My last sight of Kelly was as I watched her shoes disappear at the bottom of the garage door, I heard the pounding of her fists on the door, heard her plea to let her in and heard another woman scream ... a bloodcurdling scream ... "YOU BITCH!"

Behind the closed garage door the lightening flashed and the thunder cracked as I lead Donny to the green room.

Kelly escaped unscathed.

That night, Donny, or should I say, Mr. Osmond, couldn't have been a nicer guy. When the rain came down he asked if we could bring those waiting outside to get a glimpse of him, indoors. He signed autographs, posed for pictures and did everything I asked of him that night, including raising a lot of money. Having been in show business since he was a toddler, he had learned his craft and was a true professional.

When the last photo was taken and the last tee shirt signed we began to walk to the garage to the waiting limo. There were only four or five of us who walked Donny back to his waiting car, myself and two or three other staff members. The staff photographer snapped the pic of Donny and I that I posted at the top of this blog, I shook his hand thanked him and he got into the limo with his back facing the garage door.

Safe and secure in his ride, we opened the garage door only to find a car parked lengthwise across the opening. The limo and this strange car formed a T keeping Donny' s car from leaving.

The driver of the blocking vehicle had his head back on the seat, limp to one side, his eyes closed and his arms and hands laid out across the top of the seat by the headrests.

A million things ran through my head in an instant. Was this a robbery, kidnapping, was the driver dead, QUICK close the door ... CALL THE POLICE!!!

The next sound I heard was BANG BANG BANG BANG.

It was a dark and stormy night, a shot rang out?

No it was the camera operator Tom banging on the roof of the blocking car. "MOVE THIS F*#%ing CAR" Tom yelled as his fist pounded again on the car.

What we saw next will forever be burned into our brains. The driver, who an instant later had seemed to be dead, snapped his head forward, grabbed the steering wheel and started the car. It was only then that we all saw the head of a woman pop out of his lap and scream!

The car sped away into the rainy night and we all stood there frozen in disbelief of what we all thought we had just seen.

Donny and his driver slowly backed out of the garage and headed for his hotel. As I closed the door, we all waved goodbye and in my head I started to sing "... and they called it puppy loooooove!"

Beauty & the Beast - Part 3

2009-11-10T21:30:00.008-05:00

I should run,
On the double

I think I'm in trouble

Trouble by Lindsey Buckingham

Like the scene in the Tom Cruise movie Risky Business, where his character, Joel, rides his Dad's Porsche downhill onto a pier before crashing into Lake Michigan, I too rode my car downhill, not into a lake but into a wooden post, crushing my ankle.

If you have never broken a bone, you are missing out on one a natures great excursions into "discomfort."

For me, I only recall the initial , as most doctor's describe it ... "discomfort." Yes "discomfort" is the word that many of the "doc's" I have visited have used to describe pain. You go in for an examine and they probe where there shouldn't be probing ... "you may feel some discomfort." You get a flu shot and it's ..."you may feel some slight discomfort." You go in to see your dentist, yet another prescriber of "discomfort" and he goes around your blind side by saying "you may feel a slight pinch." What he really meant to say is "you are going to want to clench the chair with both of your butt cheeks.

I took six weeks of Lamaze classes with my then wife and never did I hear the word pain being used. It was always "discomfort." Of course that was in the late 70's and early 80's in Boulder, Colorado, the Haight-Ashbury of the Rockies, so perhaps things were a bit different, discomfort-wise. Everyone I remember those days were pretty much self-medicating one way or another.

If the police who evacuated my childhood neighborhood during the Platte River flood of 1965 had used the same rationale, they would have told us to "seek higher ground" because we were going to experience "dampness!"

So as the patio table I had fallen face first onto, continued to slowly spin in a circle, I was amazed how much the pain in my ankle was easing up. Having broken my arm two summers earlier, I knew better than to fall into a false sense of hope. Instinctively I knew it was broken and I knew better than to step down onto it.

I hopped down off of the table onto my good foot and skipped into the house. What I thought had been hours since my parents left turned out be less than an hour. They wouldn't return from the store for another hour or two! Finding the phone number for the store in the phone book, I called the store, had them page my parents and when she answered, told my Mom that I thought I had just broken my leg. After what seemed like a lifetime of silence and after not hearing any "I told you so," she told me to stay put on the couch and that they would rush home.

The next thing I did was what any kid with a broken leg and impending shock would do ... I called my boss at McDonald's and told him "I just broke my leg and I won't be in tonight ..." "Uh-huh, sure," click!

My Mother always told me "I don't care what you do, just as long as you're good at it!" I'm sure she wasn't speaking about breaking my ankle at the time. I did break it well enough to spend ten days in the hospital, have the need for surgery and have a surgical screw placed in the bone. Then there was the eight weeks in a full leg cast before spending another six in a walking cast. I spent enough time in the full cast to take me into the school year where I would need help from a classmate to carry my books while I navigated the hallways on crutches.

Someone who would not only help me with my books but would also break my heart.

To be continued -

Beauty & the Beast - Part 2

2009-11-04T13:12:00.014-05:00

When we see someone with a broken leg, we feel his pain instantly. But it takes a bit longer to feel compassion for a broken heart

- Researchers from the University of Southern California.

My last blog left off with me sitting in my stalled 1954 Chevy, afraid that my parents would be returning at any minute to find that I had done exactly the opposite of what they had told me to do - "stay away from that car!"

If you have never driven a car from the mid 1970's and beyond, you have never had the opportunity to "flood" a car, that is, to have given the carburetor so much gas that it is literally swimming in gasoline. You must wait for the gas to evaporate so that you can have the proper air to fuel mixture. This was sometimes a long and aggravating process, especially when you were waiting for your parents to show up at the front driveway at any moment.

After trying several times to restart the car and move it back to its original location, I knew I wasn't going to start the engine and there was only one thing left to do ... get out and push it back up the hill that was my backyard. It couldn't be that difficult, I had pushed several cars with the old man before. Having only bought one new car in his life, we were always pushing or towing cars somewhere. Many weekends were spent watching him work under the "new" car while it was held up by cinder blocks. It was my job to "quit giving him the wrong tools!"

I put the transmission in neutral, aimed the steering wheel for a point uphill and ran around the back of the car to literally begin "covering my tracks." As I put my shoulder into the back of the car and dug my feet into the ground, grunting, wheezing and making other bodily sounds caused by trying to push this tank of a vehicle uphill, to my surprise, the car started to move uphill.

Without much of an incline at the bottom of the driveway, my tennis shoes bit into the chunky, dusty gravel and the car's momentum increased and it lumbered to a point halfway up the hill. It was at that point that my sneakers started to slip, my strength started to give and I decided to rest. I stopped pushing and held the car in it's spot by leaning my back into the car and digging my heels into the gravel and dirt.

After several minutes of catching my breath, I looked around and saw that I had managed, with out too much effort, to have moved the car nearly halfway up the drive. I felt like Atlas having just moved the Earth from it's axis. This was pretty good, I was nearly there, my parents weren't home and I was a few yards from still being the "good" son.

Having made it almost halfway up the hill, I had impressed myself and regained that "I can do anything" mentality. Just a few more pushes and I would have made a clean getaway. Again I put my weight behind the car, stretching out with both arms this time, both legs splayed out behind me, digging in my shoes, my Converse, bought from K-Mart, blue-light special shoes. Once a cool don't-step-on-them-white, they now were covered in black dust from the gravel driveway.

What had been so easy at the bottom of the incline was suddenly difficult now that I was halfway up the hill. My feet slipped even more, the weight of the car seemed to double and sweat began to bead up on my head. Every foot forward was a battle won, every crunch of the tires rolling over the stones a victory. I had to stop again and was disappointed to realize that I had only moved the car a few feet this time and not the needed 15 yards. Once again I pushed my back into the car and rested. As I stood there with my butt against the rear trunk, looking out at the bottom of the incline, catching my breath in the Colorado summer sun, I was determined to make this push my last. I was going to make it to the top of the hill. I would get the car back where it belonged and never touch it again.

I had learned a valuable lesson. the next time I would listen to my parents, be a good kid AND the next time I tried this, I would get my best friend Roger to come and help me push. I know what you're thinking, that I hadn't learned anything - wrong - I was about to learn about gravity, physics and what happens when a unstoppable force (car) meets an unmovable object (colonial fencepost.)

I never did get to give that car that final big push, I never did get it back to where it belonged. As I took my weight off of the back end to begin to push, the weight of the car, combined with the incline of the hill took over. It started rolling backwards ... slowly at first ... very slowly ... as if in a dream ... actually like a nightmare. I tried to stop it, I really did. It began to pick up speed and as I pushed my back into the car, my arms spread out across the trunk like some bizarre crucifix, my feet ground through the rocks below, little dust clouds formed around my shoes like vapor trails from rockets.

I felt as if I was tied to the front of an old steam locomotive hurtling down the tracks out of control, pinned to it by it's increasing speed. In an instant I was shooting down the driveway, feet shuffling uselessly against the rocks, eyes wide open and fixed on one thing - the fast approaching neighbors gate.

As I made an attempt to jump from the car, my ankle was caught between the rear chrome bumper and one of the large colonial posts that held up the neighbors fence, crushing my ankle and then bouncing away free.

In instant agony, I hop-skipped across the back yard like I was in a three legged race with out a partner. I made my way up the hill to the back porch where an old rusted patio table sat. Hoping to take the weight off of my now broken ankle, I fell face first onto the table. The table began to slowly turn like it was part of a carnival knife-throwing routine and I was the assistant tied to it.

To be continued -

Beauty & the Beast - Part 1

2009-10-26T14:12:00.020-04:00

"I think part of being a parent is trying to kill your kids" - From the novel Christine by Stephen King

Generally speaking, there are two things we all remember, our first love and our first car. For me, one was a cute brunette in her junior year of high school named Vicki and the other was a used classic that was being restored in my parents back yard. I never expected to be hurt by both.

When you're 15 years old you believe that you own the world, you're impervious to everything and there is nothing in the world that can can hurt you ... nothing except the presents that are given to us by our parents. My Mom and Dad must have known the potential for personal injury that these birthday and holiday gifts had, yet they continued to rain them upon me every year. No "mom-ism" that was thrust upon me - and went in one ear and out the other - could have prepared me for their dangers.

Case in point, when they bought me a new bike - " If you fall off of that bike and break your leg, don't come running to me! After giving me a BB gun - "If you shoot your eye out with that thing, don't come looking for me!" When they gave me the old hand me down TV - "Don't sit so close to the TV, you'll ruin your eyes!"

There were the others that came from the perfunctory parent phrase book. "Keep doing that with your face and it'll stay that way! I've told you a million times, don't exaggerate. Because I SAID so! Just because, that's why. When you get married I hope you have kids just like you. If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump too? I don't know how you can watch that trash. In my day, we walked uphill ten miles to school in the snow--BOTH WAYS! With NO shoes!! Stop running in the house! Did I raise you kids in a barn? Look at this mess! Pick up your room, you'd think a little pig lived here. Hang up your clothes! What's the magic word? Say "excuse me". Cut your hair! You look like a hippie."

The one that should have stuck in my head but didn't was "don't mess with that car, while we're gone!" "THAT" car was a 1954 Chevrolet that my parents had given me, undoubtedly because all of their other torturous gifts had failed to maim me enough to their satisfaction.

Looking like a VW Bug on steer-oids, it was a 3500 pound monster of faded blue paint, dull chrome, dusty metal dashboards, six foot doors and a wheelhouse sized steering wheel. The simple speedometer was as big as the face on a grandfather clock and the trunk was larger than the interior of any modern day coupe. The rear interior deck held a single pillow-sized speaker and was large enough that any kid could and most likely did sleep on at the drive-in. Powered by a simple straight 6 engine, the front end bullet bumpers and sharks tooth grill made it appear as if JAWS itself were rolling down the road. Standard was the push button starter, three-on-the-tree shifter and high beams you switched by stepping on a small round button under your left foot. To shift gears you would move the seemingly two foot long, rusted metal shift arm, up somewhere near the rear view mirror and then pulling your hand down until it was near your right hip move into second. It held all my dreams of Saturday night "drags," car dates and running out of gas on prom-night.

So on a Saturday, during the summer of 1971, as my parents headed out the front door to go grocery shopping, was it any wonder that I was heading out the back door, car keys in hand, to take the car for a quick spin around the block?

My parents car had barely cleared the corner of our block and I was already in the drivers seat, keys in the ignition, left foot on the clutch, right foot pumping the gas, left hand pushing the starter button - crank - whine - crank - whine - pop - vrooooom! Once, okay, twice around the block and no one would be the wiser. I slowly let out the clutch and eased the car back down the long incline, tires crunching over the 50 foot gravel driveway towards the back alley. Carefully steering the rear of the car so as to not hit the neighbors rear gate to their backyard. The swinging double gate was wrought iron with black cables holding it onto two giant colonial style posts. The massive six foot high posts were painted stately white and were two feet around, giving an old southerly mansion-like feel to the otherwise ordinary west Denver alley.

Hindsight being what it is, I have always been amazed at how many times a single moment, a single instant, a single motion has drastically changed my life. On that day ... it was moving my left foot just a tad quicker than my right foot. By not letting the clutch out slowly and not giving the car enough gas, it lurched forward and stalled. If only I had known what was going to happen that day, I would have left the car there in the middle of the alley and accepted my punishment ... if only.

I couldn't leave the car there, half way in the alley, half way in the drive way. I had to restart it and move it back to where it had been parked. Pumping the gas pedal over and over the starter motor whined like a siren but didn't turn over the motor. So I sat and waited for the now flooded carburetor to clear and start. Five minutes, ten minutes went by and I tried again to crank over the motor. Mocking me the starter wailed out, almost as if it were speaking in some strange language ... NOOOOOO .... NOOOOOOOO .... NOOOOOOOO!

Panic stricken, there was only one thing to do, get out and push the car back up the driveway.

- To be continued

Happy "Sweatest" Day

2009-10-19T02:58:00.011-04:00

“Mmmm. Move over, eggs.

Bacon just got a new best friend - fudge.”

- Homer Simpson

This weekend I celebrated Sweetest Day with my wife. For the first time REALLY celebrated it, with all of the things that I knew my wife would enjoy. I gave her a card, a present and candy(corn) and a promise to take her to brunch on Sunday. I've lived in NE Ohio for almost 14 years and two things still amaze me, lightning bugs and Sweetest Day!

Okay, that and maybe the city’s love for the beleaguered Browns. HEY! I spent almost 40 years, that’s all of my childhood and most of my adult life waiting for St. Elway to part the Rocky Mountain headwaters and finally win NOT one but two of the big ones for the Mile High City. Forget the “Drive” and the “Fumble,” I know suffering too pal.

Back to my two amazement's however. The first is easier to understand than the second because while I never actually saw a “lightning bug,” “fire-fly,” “June Bug,” until I was in my forties, I did know about them from things like Disney movies. These cute little Jiminy-esqe creatures would be crammed into a mason jar and used to light up the country side for miles and miles.

The first time I actually did see one, I was on an early evening walk with my wife. This mini-firework nearly flew into my face. "WHOAAA!" What the heck was that?" "It’s a lightening bug," she says, like she was teaching a three year old about nature. "You've never seen a lightning bug?" Surprised at just how incredulous she is, I had to come back with something. "Well you’ve never seen a buffalo named Ralphie?" “I thought buffalo were called bison.” “They are, except when they’re the University of Colorado’s mascot … Ralphie the Buffalo! They named it after the kid from A Christmas Story." Not getting the joke, she misses a lot of my jokes, she swells with pride and says to me “You know I saw them film that movie…” “… downtown at the soldier thingee” I finish for her. I’d heard the story a dozen times before. “The Higbee Building,” she corrected. I didn’t answer because I was busy chasing another firefly down the street. Trying to catch one between my cupped hands and peer into it to watch the greenish glow.

The second thing that amazes me and I had NO idea what it was, until moving here, is Sweetest Day. Sweatest Day!?!? Who celebrates perspiration? Ooops I read that wrong. The ad read Don’t Forget Sweetest Day! "Huh? What?!? Is this new, like Grandparents Day, Bosses Day, and Secretary … I mean Administrative Assistants Day. We never had this in Denver. We had the perfunctory Valentines Day, Mother’s Day, Grandparent’s Day, Bosses Day, but no Sweetest Day.

As if I were a foreigner in a strange land, surrounded by kindly strangers, I’m met with advice. It’s advice from those wanting to keep Snidely “A.G.” Whiplash, or Boris “Hallmark” Baddanoff from parting me from my money.
"It's a way for American Greetings to make MORE money" someone tells me.
"It was invented by Hallmark" says another.
"The candy companies, they're to blame ... BLAME THEM! Gather the pitch forks and torches and KILL them, kill them all!
“We never celebrate it!” “Why isn’t there something for single people?”

Sweetest Day, a "concocted promotion" created by the greeting card and/or candy industry solely to increase sales of their products. Why else would I hear radio spots urging me to make the trek to stand in line for porcine products layered in chocolate and salt. "Hey! Let's go get sweet, sickly Aunt Barb some chocolate covered bacon to perk up her spirits, sodium and cholesterol count!"

If I were to listen to these people, well than obviously I’m to believe that Sweetest Day is a fake holiday wrapped in a flying saucer shaped Jiffy Pop pan.

Wikipedia tells me that Sweetest Day is an observance celebrated primarily in the Great Lakes region and parts of the Northeast United States on the third Saturday in October. Once known as a day to spread love and cheer to the unfortunate, this popular, or unpopular, depending upon whom you ask, holiday in the northern U.S. is now known as a day to show affection to the loved ones in your life.

It is described by Retail Confectioners International as an "occasion which offers all of us an opportunity to remember not only the sick, aged and orphaned, but also friends, relatives and associates whose helpfulness and kindness we have enjoyed.

Geee … now wasn’t that just like holiday dinner where you meet your sister’s fiancee, a new convert to Catholicism, fresh from catechism class. The one who knows all of the scripture from the Bible, can name all the apostles, list all mortal AND venial sins AND knows the Ten Commandments both backwards and forwards! Or the new American Citizen who knows all of the branches of government.

But … once again I digress. So, as promised, my wife and I go to a wonderful restaurant for Sunday Brunch and as we drive home together, life is good.

Wait for it … wait ….

That is until my wife, a four time cancer survivor, begins to have pain. Pain as she describes it, ranging in scale from 2 to 8. Two being a slight pinch, like when I prick my finger to test my blood sugars. A ten is like how I heard someone once describe childbirth. "Take your left thumb and forefinger and grab your lower lip, then do the same with your right thumb and forefinger and grab your upper lip. Now PULL your top lip over the TOP of your head!"

You can never know the agony that you experience, the chill that goes through you when you think that perhaps the “C” word has reentered your life and the lives of those you love until you have been around someone who has fought the brave fight against cancer.

After spending a grueling seven hours at the hospital, it turns out that she may have had just a severe case of acid reflux. There will likely be more tests, there are always more tests. But for tonight, most of us can almost sleep peacefully.

Almost …

It’s 3:00 in the morning and my wife is asleep. Sweetest Day has come and gone, I'm writing and eating candy corn.

Click BANG C’ya Bye!

Happy Birthday Melon Head

2009-10-14T08:17:00.014-04:00

2nd Lt. George Rice: Looks like you guys are going to be surrounded.

Richard "Dick" Winters: We're paratroopers, Lieutenant. We're supposed to be surrounded.

- Band of Brothers

Today is October 14th and it's Carlos Patrick Martinez Jr's. birthday. "Marty" as he's known by, belongs to a select club that includes as one of it's members, Audie Murphy. Audie Murphy was an actor, sometime songwriter and the most highly decorated soldier of WWII. Both Martinez and Murphy were awarded the Legion of Merit "for exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding services and achievements." The Legion of Merit, in order of precidence, ranks fifth, behind the Medal of Honor, Distinguished Service Cross, Distinguished Service Medal and the Silver Star.

Marty has been a soldier, paratrooper, Airborne Ranger, ARMY Golden Knight, Cook County Sheriff, husband, father, hero and my "little" brother. Nine years apart and son's of different fathers, he has always been my Brother, never my half-brother.

Despite being all of these, as a kid he was known as "Pelon." Having been born with little or no hair on his head, my Hispanic Aunts, Uncles, Mom and Dad started calling him "Pelon." They even sang a song in his lil' bald headed honor. "Pelon, pelon, cabeza de mel'on!" "Baldy baldy melon head!" To this day my Brother still has what I call a six-head and not a forehead.

While I was playing DJ on the radio and interviewing celebrities for several PBS affiliates on TV, my brother was being used as target practice in Grenada and Panama. My radio persona was the Hitman, he was Sgt Martinez. I won an EMMY, he was recognized for gallantry, I met Mr. Rogers, he went knocking on the door of Manuel Noriega's house. I hurt my knee bowling ... he got shot and saved the lives of his comrades.

This from the same guy who when I stepped barefoot on a nail, while chasing HIM around the yard, wouldn't help me take it out. "Pat" I remember screaming, "come help me!" "No," between laughs he said "NO!" "You'll hit me!" Hit him? I wanted to kill the little jerk.

No doubt he was getting even with me for the time I sank him in a creek full of ice and snow, having taken him along with me as I went "tubing" with my Jr. High School friends. Having grown up in Colorado meant skiing and tubing in the winter. It was great finding a large truck inner tube, filling it up with air and then finding a snow covered hill to zip and bounce down. It was so fast that everything became a icy blue blur.

Our hill was at a school near our home. The hill was about fifty yards long with a sand covered playground at the bottom. At the end of the playground was a sidewalk, another patch of sand and then a creek. Usually dry in the summer and fall, the creek would swell with the melting snow in the winter. We would ride our tubes down the hill, my brother riding along with me. We would drag across the playground sand, our weight digging in and bringing us to a stop.

We did this for hours, slide down the hill, stop on the sand, up the hill, down the hill. Always with my brother hanging on to me on my tube while my friends flew past us, all alone on their winter-machines-of-death! "Hey Pat, want to ride down the hill by yourself, like the BIG kids?"

Before he could answer I plopped him into the center of the tube and kicked it down the hill. As he whooshed down the hill, my big brother pride was turning into oh-my-god-my-mother-will-kill-me-for-killing-my-brother-angst! With out our combined weight the inner tube glided across the snow, flew across the sand, under the monkey-bars, over the sidewalk and INTO the icy cold creek. Floating there in silence, the winter air afraid to move, none of us breathing, for a what seemed to be forever moment in time ... until the ice gave way and he crashed through with a splash.

By the time we fished my brother out of the creek and rushed him home, his 1970's plastic like full body snow suit had frozen him into a bizarre looking crucifix. To this day I can't watch A Christmas Story without laughing hysterically as the mother tries to put Randy into his snow suit, his arms continually popping up from his sides. That isn't just Ralphie's little brother in that snow suit, it's also mine.

Happy Birthday Melon Head!

Click BANG C'ya Bye!

A Sign On My Head!

2009-10-12T09:04:00.013-04:00

Happy Columbus Day!

In fourteen hundred ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. He sailed three ships and left from Spain; He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.

If Amish country, near Columbus, okay Canton, had somehow been in existence back in 1492, and If Ol' Chris had somehow landed near Holmes County instead of the Bahamas, he may have set out to enjoy the autumnal display of colorful falling leaves at a local Bed & Breakfast.

He would have had some fresh squeezed apple-cider and lots of home-made fruit and berry pies with lard laden crusts and freshly made whipped cream. He most likely would have enjoyed a cornucopia (I know it's a Thanksgiving thing, just work with me here) of homemade Amish carbs and proteins, all on the same plate. Who ever brought mashed potatoes AND noodles AND gravy together on the same plate, on top of each other, was a culinary genius. Did I mention the dressing, this glorious stuffing that was more like a chicken potpie than regular stove top stuffing? But I digress ...

I set out on a weekend journey to spend time with my wife, the lovely Nina. Considering it was a long three-day Columbus Day weekend, how serendipitous was it that I was traveling with a Nina of my very own? You know ... the three boat, actually four boat thing, the Nina, Pinta, Santa Maria AND the Santa Christina, the later being the Zeppo Marx of the new world exploration team. Again, I digress ...

Going to an Amish country B&B for me, is like going to an adult version of Disneyland. There's food, shopping, fireplaces, romance, colorful scenery and did I mention the politeness factor? As a kid, my Mother taught me to be polite. I was taught to say please and thank you, you're welcome and to offer my seat to the elderly and "respect my elders." To this day I still hold open doors for women which leaves me totally conflicted. I understand the entire "new world feminist" thing but isn't it just polite to hold the door for someone? The other day I found myself in a bakery, scrambling to run and get the door for a woman, whose arms were full with a birthday cake. The way people looked at me, you would have thought I was fleeing a robbery.

I used to run around the car to open and close the car door for my wife. Always before closing the door I'd say "watch your leg!" Going to the store, "watch your leg!" Leaving from the movies "watch your leg!" One day she tells me that she hates the whole "watch your leg" thing so I quit doing it. So what happens the first time I don't say "watch your leg?" The door catches her leg with a sound like that of a thick pork chop hitting a cutting board. "I told you, watch your leg," that's what I was thinking but I didn't say it, but I thought it!

Everywhere you go in Amish Country you get something akin to "watch you leg!" Smiling faces with a Thank You! Can I get you this? Would you like more of that? Did you find everything you were looking for? We wrote a check for a purchase of handmade leather goods and the owner didn't ask for an ID! What's up with that? Sure it made me nervous that if I lost my check book, some stranger would be able to clear my account and buy a quarter, maybe half of a handmade rocking chair. Yet I thought how great it must be to be so trusting.

The only rudeness we encountered was from other tourists. Talking on their cell phones in restaurants, discussing how "quaint" the Amish are. "Hey LOOK that horse just pooped!"

I asked my wife if I had a sign on my forehead that read "STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME." Standing in a store looking at an item, someone would come and "STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME." At the counter in the chocolate or bakery shop, someone would squeeze in and "STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME." Waiting in line for lunch or dinner, someone would forget etiquette and cut in line and "STAND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME."

We hated to leave and come back to the real world. It's a world where unfortunately most people have just plain forgotten good manners and how to be polite. No "thank you" in the drive through. No acknowledgement of your existence in the grocery store que. Forget about having someone wheel out your cart full of hundreds of dollars worth of food purchases. I often leave the drive-thru with a leaky soda cup, no napkins or straw, muttering, "no thank you, no you're welcome, no kiss my a**!"

When I was younger, in my twenties, watching the TV show Taxi, the show would end with a guy walking down a hallway and you'd hear a voice say "Good Night, Mr. Walters" and Mr. Walters responded by mumbling "Uhh hmmm"

On our way home yesterday, I think I meet Mr. Walter's daughter. I swear that she works the drive-thru at my nearby Mickey D's.

Click BANG C'ya bye!

Wish He Had a Feather

2009-10-07T16:14:00.012-04:00

"I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both."
-Forrest Gump

I'm sitting here watching my neighbor's kid and his shiny black Mustang convertible while I wait for the auto-club to come and jump my car battery and for some inexplicable reason I'm feeling and thinking that I am getting really old. I'm wondering if I will ever live to see as many birthdays as my Mom has had.

Long before there was Forrest Gump and long before the opening and closing scenes of that movie where a brilliant white feather floats across a perfectly clear blue sky as if dropped from an angels wing, there has been my Mother.

As strange as it sounds, or maybe not, my Mom has always been around. Like a Kennedy on the hill, Hershey Bars, Monopoly, the Rolling Stones or Paul McCartney, I don't remember a time in my 53 years of life that she hasn't been there, hasn't existed, has just been. I am tremendously fortunate in that regard. This 4' 10" woman, she tells everyone that she is 5 feet tall, has outlived my Dad by nearly 15 years.

Even though at 83, she is the last surviving sibling, having outlived her two brothers and four sisters, I just can't fathom the idea of her not being around. I believe, I really do that she will live forever.

Of course, with all of those years comes many images of holidays, tragedies, fun and tears AND Motherly words of wisdom - "you'll shoot your eye out," "don't walk on the floor," "don't eat off of those dishes," the usual stuff.

None stood out more than "wish (S)HE had a feather." Driving down the street past a house much nicer and bigger than the one bedroom apartment in the Sun Valley Projects of north Denver ... "wish THEY had a feather!" Seeing a new red sports car parked next to her nearly 30 year old Chevy Nova ... "wish HE had a feather!"

I never knew what she meant and as a kid I never asked. A couple of years ago, while visiting, I drove her to dinner and she is watching a woman brave a Colorado night with a fur-lined parka and out pops, "wish SHE had a feather!" I stopped the car in the parking lot, turned to my Mom and finally asked ... "What does that mean?" I'm waiting as if she's going to tell me the meaning of life, who really shot JFK, did Yoko really break up the Beatles, man walking on the moon was a hoax! No, what I got was something so simple it was to my mind, genius. My Mom laughed and smiled that sly elfin grin and told me that when ever she saw something she really coveted, like a new car, she would think to herself "if I had his car and he had a feather up his ass, we would both be tickled!" That's what she was thinking but it always came out as "wish they had a feather!"

So I'm looking out the window at this great muscle car across the street while my car sits with a dead battery and I'm thinking to myself ...

Click BANG C'ya bye!

The Hit Man's First Shot

2009-10-06T18:09:00.006-04:00

So here goes ... "It was a dark and stormy night, a shot rang out, a woman screamed" ... no that's not right. "He looked into her eyes and his heart raced."" He was sweating more than a beach full of albino's on the 4th of July" ... nah, I don't think so.

Look who am I kidding? The reason I decided to start my own blog is because I'm bored! It's not like my musings, collective thoughts and ramblings are going to make War & Peace read like Horton Hears A Who!

I will promise to try and keep it light with no over the top political or religious commentary. I'll leave that to the Bill Maher's, Olbermann's and O'Reilly's of the world. They are much better at it than I ever could be.

But I will share with you some of my life's secrets. Like how did I come to name this blog the HITMAN, or how did I run myself down with my own car? Or maybe I'll just share my love of music with you.

Leave a comment if you like and we'll take it day by day.

Click BANG C'ya bye!