Another Piece of History

It is amazing what you find when you go through your valuable "stuff" to clean out and throw away.

Throwing away the baggage of old titles, I came across these band cards.

From 1963 and the early Beatles, electronic music entered my imagination of music.

A friend from elementary school, decided he wanted to set up a band, but he didn't play an instrument, so he became the manager. He contacted me and gathered some other friends and we met one weekend at the house of a post deliver.

A blue collar household just off the beaten path of Patterson Avenue, my route to the country club.

The house was small and the furniture dirty and piles of dishes sat in the kitchen. Now I know why my mother looked so worried when she delivered me to this out of the way location.

Inside was a large beer drinking man at a chrome table in the kitchen, a larger girl in a mess of slips and slippers moving back and forth through the dark rooms.

Then there was the "band".

Wally, who's house we met in, was a pocked marked intense eyes and a grin that could warm a room. Paul, his buddy, a squirrely guy with grease on his hands, a Brillo hairdo and a jerk like motion that represented a puppet. A fresh faced Bill, the drummer, looked confused as I was to be in this setting. He also had the prep hair cut and clean shoes.

But Bruce has brought us together to make money. He was a typical manipulator for self profit and saw a band in the early 60's as a money maker.

So we sat down together and figured out a song list and a uniform acceptable to Richmond at the time. We didn't play any music that first meeting, but we seemed to get along.

It was a big adventure, that was fascinating every weekend as we played in the Wicker living room.

And every weekend the music got louder with more chords, guitars, amps, and laughter. The doors would open and the sound would spill out into the street.

And then it happened.

Girls started to come by and listen and giggle and smile.

So the band broke up, then rejoined and then broke up and the pattern continued.

New members play new songs, then move to another name and another manager and another printed card.

The band card showed they were to be professional.

But we were just kids with guys who would say they would be our managers and get us jobs playing dances, and parties, and would take a cut.

We didn't care. We just wanted to play rock and roll.

So local printers enjoyed the young boys wanting to be the rock and roll greats, but their only benefit was designing business cards to be handed out to each other.

Names like "The Thames", "Chapperells", "Morning Glory" and "Thursday Night".

Each with a group of different players. Each with a different song set.

So these antiques from the 60's are a smile on the past and a sign that life was much simpler then.

Sunday Spring To Summer

The weather was warm today. Like summer in the spring. But it has broken the spell of cold nights and windy days.

Sunshine and light breeze. After a sunny wake up and pulling on shorts an another cup of java, it is out in the sunshine.

Oil the gears that make the winter fade and open the gate to another day.

Off to the Grove Avenue by way of a side street with a peace flag and other cyclist enjoying the day.

Shift the gears, check the mirror and onto familiar territory. Stop to let the traffic go by and a driver pauses at the cross street. Will she go? I take my hands off the handle bars and wait. She waves and turns to the East.

Rest in the shade before climbing the hill to Libbie. The driver in the truck on the phone was in no hurry, but neither was I.

The fast drift down to Patterson. Newly paved from Libbie to Willow Lawn Drive. It was already smooth, but my city dollars had to be spent for the West End complaints.

Up the hill and start to feel the breathe of the day. Green trees, shadows, and birds.

Listen to the day.

The birds.

They sing Spring is here.

Up the bumpy Park Avenue and around the park.

Stop and listen.

There are no traffic sounds.


Only the sounds of birds and quiet laughs of children.

I sit and rest and listen.

Then off again, under the shade of the new canopy which will keep me cool through out the summer Sundays.

Turn right back into the near West End which changed my life with new characters and partners and experiences.

Over the old railroad tracks which marked the acceptable territory. Anyone past this line was acceptable and for many years the only contact.

And still the limit of travel does not hinder the awaking of new possibilities. Another smile from a passing car and a wave with a smile.

25 days into the new life of freedom and the sun shines bright with drifting clouds. Blue sky fill the void of endless routines.

And a west coast friend has given a list of new challenges to venture on wood and string. Thanks.

More Freedom Than Time Allows

The day starts at sunrise. The critters awake and shake off the nightly dust.

Smell of instant coffee and eggs and soy bacon and rye toast.

The morning news and weather and yesterdays news in print.

Back door wide open to welcome the breeze and beckon to the rough wooden walk way to the new destination.

Outside in the sunshine watching the birds and squirrels eat peanut butter, bread, apples, and sunflower hulled seeds. They drink at the fish pond or the OJ bowl. Some try the blueberry bowl.

Grey Jay is back from Florida. And the bunnies are in the yard.

The weather if finally warming up. The winter garb can go into hiding for another few months.

But the NEW schedule is flexible.

This is all new. Time on your hands. Time like when you were a child and did not have meetings, classes, phone messages, to-do-list, email, text message.....

Freedom to do what you want (within reason)

All those things you wanted to do!!

No excuses.

BUT

It is totally different from what you have grown up with for years and years.

Going to school everyday. Same time. Same results. Same routine. Same amount of free time.

Going to work everyday. Same time. Same results. Same routine. Same amount of free time.

BUT

Now, there is the time of a child to explore the freedom given to each individual.

Like each of our forefathers, there is only 24 hours in a day. The sun comes up and goes down.

It is what WE do during that time that makes a difference.

Will we be remembered? It is time for the next generation to run with the torch.

But there is no other generation for me.

So do we want to be remembered? For our accomplishments, as fleeting as they are.

We make a mark on the earth for others to follow, but few, very few will be remembered.

Even those who we name streets and buildings after. Who are they?

So I end a day of riding in the sun, warming my back, viewing the green, flowers, birds, and relaxing after another day of almost getting something creative done.

Well, I am working on a song, listening to a bass CD to friends, cleaning out my cassette closet, and writing this.

And tomorrow is another day.

....stay tuned.

The Free Zone

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And so on a rainy day, the life settles down.

Past the week of riding 10 miles a day. Back and forth through neighborhood known since a young child. On streets traveled in elementary school to play trains and small cars and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

But the future is now, and the rain settles it down.

The usual routes to the fan and down to VCU and round again past the museum and up the hill to the Libbie shops, then over to the Patterson route. The original road back and forth to and from the town of Richmond.

Up by the church with a security guard walking around it.

The grand pianos cascading spring flowers on the front porch.

The young women jogging or parading their offspring in pairs.

The brick buildings line by line, with new occupants, but the same since before time began.

The cafes and small shops closed and boarded up due to the economy.

And past the mobile machines covered in the spring green dust.

But there is more....

Fill out the forms that will feed the coffers. Estimate the cost of feeding the ones in need. Evaluate the health needs and cost and feasibility. Ponder the last quarter of life as the thunder roars in the distance.

Yet the land and shelter are owned and can not be taken away. The dirt and trees and rocky walkways that have survived all the years given promise of the future.

If it be short, so be it. If it be long, my it be restful and happy and fulfilling.

So many years of doing others bidding, but now the choice is one of being free.

Like when you were a child.

Awake in the morning to find new experiences without plans or meetings or orders.

Look up to the sky and watch the birds fly. They know.

Follow them.

Fire Engines, Bow Ties, and Onions

Just another Easter weekend. Yet, like no other Easter. This Easter was free. No worries about work, except from the call by Jeff fretting about his future.

Early breakfast, after a long night sleep.

Getting over a weekend with some Penn friends who traveled down South for a venture and some old stories. There was much more to tell, but the time passed quickly.

A 10 mile travel on a windy cool Spring day, sunny yet not warm yet. No new sights except young lads in khakis, blue blazers, sharply pressed white shirts and bright ties dashing off to church. Reminded me of the lads in the Kroger parking lot the day before with their bow ties and shorts, ready for the Strawberry Hill races.

As I traveled, the sirens of fire engines filled the air. From left, then right, then behind. I paused to notice they had stopped at Monument Avenue. Something must have happened at the preparation for the Easter Day Stroll down the Avenue of Monuments. Maybe one of those bow tie lads had not recovered from the previous celebrations.

The rest of the journey was ordinary, except that I noticed the shadows on the street. Dark fingers crossed my path down and back, like a silhouette of a overhanging stain glass frame, without the color. Flying buttresses arching across my venture. Still fingers, soon to be filled with leaves creating a soft umbrella to cool my summer rides.

So home again. Burgers with huge slices of onions, dark mustard, sweet relish, and potato chip crumbs. Appalachian Brewing Co. beer and the continuous brisk wind.

So enjoy the day and remember, he has risen, has many meanings.

OK, it's been a week now.....

....so get off your duff.

Just kidding.

It's been pretty busy.

Cleaning out my two lockers with a maintenance man watching to make sure I didn't steal any newspaper secrets or store any explosives. Continuing with the 10 miles a day rides in the lovely spring air. Watching the fish and birds and bunnies in the yard. Saying goodbye to my travel guitar. Cooking on the grill. Getting in touch with an old friend. Getting a new hard drive.

Fresh starts all around.

And trying to set a schedule. Monday for playing? Tuesday for shopping (5% discount for being old)? Wednesday for music? Thursday for writing? Friday for bills and house necessities? Saturday for litter? Sunday for riding?

Still have a pile of papers to go through and some online registering for being unemployed, life is starting to look pretty good.

Organizing projects so I can keep on track.

So let's see how it goes.


Stay tuned........

Early Early Retirement

It's a rainy day, my first day of "early" early retirement. I had not planned it this way, but I saw it coming.

In the morning I joked with another about the news of an advertising sales person being walked out the door. "We are only numbers" the truth spoken too soon.

After a brief ceremony with HR and given my pack and coat I was walked to the parking deck. Unlocking my bike and strapping on my helmet I passed the security guard who waved and said "Are you leaving early?".

"I'm done here." I replied. "I've had enough."

Moving through daytime traffic was a little different feel, but I was also wearing my "work" clothes.

At home in the sunshine I read the severance agreement. All seemed legal (I'm sure it is, I know lawyers look over everything MG does). Announcing my "early" retirement, then settled down to be fed (you always eat in unusual situations) and watch some soap operas.

"This is Opal's boy, he's having a child with Caroline, but she is really Carla from before, when Sonny was married to her, then she changed characters and hair color...."

After an unusual trip to Kroger (manly because there were so many weird families and their wandering kids) we unpacked the groceries and ate some more.

Then an ordinary evening of PDS, Obama's review of the G-20, "This Old House", and the weeny end of "ER" moistened by silver bullets and comments from friends on Facebook.

Then off to sleep. No nightmares or dreams.

As the rain falls harder, I will start to decide my new path.

Will I retire and take the pension? Will I search for new employment, including freelance or contract work? Will I start or finish some projects? Music? Painting? School??

This is the first time since high school I have been "unemployed".

I've always said you have to get up and have something to do. Now it's time to find out what that is. A new adventure is starting.

So after 38 years with the Times-Dispatch, it's over. You treated me well, sometimes better than I expected. I survived some trying times and enjoyed some wonderful memories and friends.

So long. It's time to move on.