We’re Too Busy Singing …
My friend Mississippi posted on Facebook this morning “Davey Jones has died. I thought the woman was joking when she told me, but then I saw her face and now I’m a bereaver.” That made me smile so I’m stealing it.
Yesterday when I heard, I couldn’t ignore the ripple of sadness.
There goes yet another puzzle piece of my youth. Got me puzzling about all the pieces. And how we often think they’re all in place, only to see them come undone. Forcing new pieces in to the missing space just doesn’t work. What happens to us when we lose those pieces that have been so firmly in place for so long?
Misspent or not, my life was held in place by music. Notice I didn’t say grounded … grounded was what happened when you got in trouble. My parents, frequent grounders of me, did not like The Rolling Stones, but they loved the wholesome Monkees. Ha … little did they know. They even took us … well … I already wrote about this and couldn’t say it any better with new words, so I’m quoting/stealing from myself:
“But back to Dad … who Christmas of 1967 gave us four kids two tickets each, and piled eight kids in a car to see the Monkees in Winston-Salem, only to find me sitting out in the hall in a euphoric haze while the Monkees sugar-popped away inside. “You’re missing the Monkees,” he said. The opening act was Jimi Hendrix and I was now “experienced.” Had seen God. At seventeen, I was too young to recognize the gris-gris that Mitch Mitchell was throwing out there, but I caught it anyway. At the crossroads, I went left and never looked back.”
-excerpt from Come They Told Me. dpm 2011
My IPod carries a good portion of the soundtrack of my life – past and present. Most of it anyway … though there’s not a Monkee’s song to be found. Yet. But I still find myself singing along to “Daydream Believer,” and “I’m a Believer” whenever I hear them. One of my favorites was the rarely, if ever heard, “I Wanna Be Free.”
I was a Michael Nesmith fan. I don’t know why I liked that wool cap, but I did. He was my first “type” and would come to define the kinds of guys that made my knees weak and my resolve even weaker, especially after he grew a moustache and beard. Gotta love a man with a beautiful Gretsch guitar.
His mother invented Liquid Paper.
I even gave my virginity to a Michael Nesmith look-alike who worked at Harry’s on Franklin Street. Whenever I saw a picture of Nesmith, it took me back to the note that Jim (the clone) wrote on an order pad sheet and handed to me when he came to take our order … “coffee, tea, or me?” I ordered and we went to his place. I spent the whole time pretending it was Michael Nesmith. I still have that note. No amount of White-Out will ever erase that.
Long story short. AT&T accidentally cut my phone line doing an install. Almost 2 weeks to get them back. Assigned repair tech calls this morning to confirm that he’ll be here between 1 & 6pm. What’s his name? Robert.
Lordy, Lordy … another phenomTuesday night blues jam at The Blue Note Grill! Trust me. Just go. Be amazed.
After putting on my best Shrimp & Grits Throwdown face for this sold-out event at The Carolina Inn here in Chapel Hill, I was ready to mingle with 5 of my favorite celebrity judges, 7 of my favorite local chefs, and over 225 guests. Can you imagine anything other than a mouthwatering afternoon? I was even considering taking my favorite spoon, but that would verge on tacky.
We judges, sequestered in the Sun Room with bottles of wine and plates of cheese, were warned that plates would come every 7 minutes. And come they did … each a unique interpretation. Or course we tried to match each dish to the participating chefs. And the winner was Trey Cleveland from Top of the Hill. Following close on his heels by only one point was Jimmy Reale, Carolina Crossroads/The Carolina Inn. Fan favorite went to Vimala Rajendran/Vimala’s Curry Blossom Café whose version was full of palate-teasing Indian spiciness.
The event raised it’s goal of $2,000 for TABLE, Inc., serving Chapel Hill and Carrboro children at risk for hunger.