Of course the ones when we were kids were the best...the smell of a pine tree in your living room, the warm glow of incandescent Christmas-tree lights, family, friends, food, presents, etc. Every year we'd go to my grandmother's house on Christmas night and have yet another dinner that she'd spent half the day cooking, and open more presents. It was a twofer. She had bubble lights on her tree and I thought they were the coolest things in the world. She was a character and I adored her. Her name was Mary Lou but people called her "Ma'lou." When I was little I couldn't pronounce that so I called her "Booie" and it stuck. Even her friends called her that. When I was old enough to realize that I'd giver her her nickname and everybody called her by it I thought it was fantastic. Merry Christmas Booie! I miss you.
For many years we'd go over to our big family friends the Smith's, and set up all the stuff that needed assembling, for their kids. That was a big part of it for me. I also remember going over to a relative's apartment, in a high-rise downtown that was across from our church. Every year she'd give us these boxes that opened up like a book and contained every flavor of Life Savers candy. I could never afford to buy more than one or two flavors at a time, so having them all was a great treat. I reckon she's long-since gone up to that great Candyland in the sky. I appreciated the Live Savers.
After all the usual kid stuff some things happened in between and then I got my license. Christmas really got fun. I was able to drive around and see my friends and go to parties and look at lights and toss fireworks out the windows and smoke doobies and sneak into bars and whatever else. For many years at a stretch there I managed to get into the Christmas spirit one way or another.
My first professional gig (meaning only that I got paid) was at a Christmas party back in high school, with my buddy Douggie Dang. He played in a cool band called Anequasy. The keyboard player Scotty had just switched from drums to keys so I filled in on a gig or two until they found a regular guy Scott's dad owned a big distributorship place and hired us for a lavish party. After that Doug and I wouldn't play together again for several years, before launching into a million bands together. That's him in the photo to the left. BTW. Hey Doug!
We rehearsed a good bit for that one gig which was fine by me because we were really tight for a temporary band. We played some good tunes and did them justice. We played Everybody's Got Something to Hide (Except for Me and My Monkey) by the Beatles, Arrested for Driving While Blind by ZZ Top, Arrow Through Me by Wings, plus lots of other great songs. The food was excellent, the music sounded really good, they let us drink underage, which blew my mind, I had a blast and oh, yeah...I got paid. Good stuff.
Another incredible party I've talked about before was one given by Birmingham Vending Company. They sold and leased coin-op machines of every kind, from food to pinball to video games. It was great because the family who owned it was Jewish but they always had a Christmas party. For a bunch of kids in a hot band who also happened to be into video games and pinball, it was heaven. There was a huge, beautifully-carpeted room where they had maybe 250 games of every sort. They had every pinball and video game that was out at the time, plus some that hadn't yet been released to the public.
The food was incredible. On our breaks instead of lingering over a doob like usual we ran out for a quick puff or two and then ran back in and played video games for 20 minutes. On every few tables they'd placed buckets of tokens, which would later come into play. We played a blistering gig that night, and we won over the whole crowd, which was kids to grandparents, and that isn't always easy to do.
We played everything from Devo to the Dead for the youngsters, plus such classics as Take Five, which pleased the older crowd. but when we played the theme from A Charlie Brown Christmas, everybody found common ground and went nuts and from then on the band could do no wrong. We played it at least three times that night because people kept asking for it, but it was no problem since it's such an amazing tune, and nowhere near as easy as it may sound to play. It was beautiful.
I also had a date with a stunning sister who was also named Kelly. That was some sweet-ass icing on the cake. After we finished playing we hurried to load our gear and then ran back in to squeeze in a few more games of pinball and such. Our guitar players Bert and Randy were Jewish, and good friends of the owners, and when they saw how much fun we were having, and maybe how loaded we were too, they said that they were going to be closed the next day, and we could stay as long as we wanted. They gave us the keys and the codes and wished us a Merry Christmas. Plus they told us to please take as much of the food as we could since they were finished with it, and we each left with five pounds of high-end eats.
We played video games into the wee hours, and when daylight broke I made an industrial-size pot of coffee, and made up some amazing ham biscuits. I'm assuming it was Kosher. We finally left around 11am, but the party kept on giving, for a long time. Right before we left O' and I noticed the buckets of tokens. We knew they were the same kind that were accepted in a couple of the main video arcades of the day, so I filled up a drum case with several-thousand tokens. For the next two years or so O' and I, and sometimes Randy, would go to the arcade. We'd each buy a buck's worth of tokens so as not to arouse suspicion but we'd have a pocketful of tokens from the party and we'd play free for the next four hours. Thanks Birmingham Vending! Merry Christmas.
I took a long break from writing this. I started writing this yesterday evening and I'd be finished long before now but a friend came on YouTube for a live stream and I popped on. He's into herbs and natural remedies and things like I am, plus he can see through the bullshit too, so we hit it off immediately. Usually he stays on an hour or two tops but he was on for over four hours. About half a dozen other friends I've known for several years also popped into the chat. I didn't expect to see all of them and it was a good time. Great people. I wasn't paying attention for a couple of minutes, and out of the blue I saw one of my mom's paintings on his screen. WTF?
Then I realized that he was playing a video from my channel where my mom and I sang Inchworm. I had no idea he even knew about it. I guess someone else sent him the link but I don't know. Anyway, it was quite a surprise to hear it, and not a bad Christmas gift. My mom was also very pleased that he played it on his show. A couple of times when I've gone live my mom joined in and interacted with some of my friends via chat, and everyone got a huge kick out of it. My girl Darlene, who's truly an angel with a wicked sense of humor (she's crazy fucking funny) said it was her favorite vid on YouTube, and she meant it. Nice. Thanks, brother Bob, and Darlene. Okay, back to the ghosts of Xmases past.
Two of the most fun ones for me were when I got to set up drum kits under the tree for my friends' kids on Christmas Eve. Having gotten drums for Christmas myself I knew the joy they'd experience and I loved being a part of that. I set up one kit for a kid who was five or six. He was Rodney's son. I think he recently started college. Another time I set up a kit for the son of Jack and Elizabeth, who were the first owners of the crazy restaurant. John was around ten, and the whole time I was setting up the drums we were pretty sure that he was on the other side of his bedroom door with his ear pressed up against it, and that turned out to be the case.
It was hilarious. Jack and I had been drinking heavily. I'd found an amazing deal on a set of clear acrylic Ludwig drums for John. I wish I had that kit today. I went over after work to set it up. John's room was right by the living room, and we were pretty sure he was still awake and listening to see if he could hear any drum-related sounds. They hadn't told him he was getting a drum kit but he suspected. The terms "setting up drums" and "quietly" don't go together usually, but I was doing my absolute best to set up the drums without making a sound.
What made it so difficult was that Jack and I were loaded and we were trying our best not to bust out into laughter. I couldn't believe it but I set up every single piece- snare, three toms, bass, hi-hat and three cymbals, and I didn't make a peep...until of course the very last piece of the kit. I'd forgotten to put the bass-drum pedal on, which was no problem except that I had to worm in into place around all the hardware and clamp it to the rim quietly, which somehow I did.
I thought I'd gotten away with the world's first silent drum kit setup, but there was some slack in the bass drum pedal from not being attached. It makes the beater shaft flop down against the footboard, and it looks broken to someone who doesn't know what's going on. I didn't want John to think it was messed up and so I pulled the beater up like I'd normally do, which locks it back into place. The problem is that it's spring-loaded, and when the beater shaft engaged, the spring slammed it into the drum head. I'd been so quiet for a solid hour, and then BOOM! We heard a little laugh that trailed off as John peeled his ear off the door and finally went to bed, having had his Christmas wish confirmed. Classic.
For many years Christmas meant seeing my friend Rusty. That's him playing congas in the photo above. Rus was the first new friend I made the first day I started in a new school system. Since I played drums I signed up for band. I walked into class and went over to the drum section. The other guys were friendly enough but Rusty looked me straight in the eye with a huge smile on his face, and next thing I knew there was a loud and very realistic fart sound. He had a small jawbreaker under his shoe and when he dragged his foot across the floor it made a great fart sound. Now I liked farts as much as the next guy but I was a bit taken aback that he'd do it so damn loudly, but that was Rusty. He didn't care.
I was to soon learn that he honestly earned the title of the Fart King, but at the time it was just a pure welcoming gesture. We didn't have band where I'd come from and I didn't know what to expect. I'd heard the kids were snobs, and for the most part they were, but Rusty was different. He was kind and friendly and obviously a little off-base, but he'd just sent me a warm welcome into the club, in his own endearing way, and it meant a lot to me. We're still the bestest of buds to this day.
Soon after high school he moved to Tallahassee to take over his dad's biz, but for years he came up for a week at Christmas. The rest of the year he worked his balls to the bone, so when he came up here, away from coworkers and such, he'd go berserk. We've had so many adventures at Christmas that I couldn't begin to even remember half of them, but it was jaw-dropping stuff. One thing that's pretty twisted, but hilarious, stands out. We were in the former Radio Shack (RIP) and it was packed with Christmas shoppers.
This was the early days of personal computers. There was an early text-to-voice program that was basically a spell-check. You'd type in the misspelled word and the computer would search for the correct spelling, and then say, spell and repeat the word. There was a delay of several seconds as it searched for the correct word, which was perfect for Rusty because it gave him time to set it up and then scamper back across the store so he wasn't nearby when it went off.
We were standing in line to buy some stuff. Rusty handed me his things and went across to the other side of the store. I didn't know what he was doing but a minute later he was working his way back to me. All of the sudden a very loud, robotic voice blasted the store: "PENIS...P-E-N-I-S...PENIS." He'd typed "penus" into it and it found the correct spelling. I lost it laughing. Rusty had cranked the volume up so everyone in the store heard it. Rusty's sense of humor may be a bit slanted, which is probably why we've been such good friends all these years, but it was brilliant really, and it made my day. Merry Christmas Rus!
Another interesting thing happened one Christmas Eve, that also happened to involve Rusty. The heater at my folks' house had gone out, and we had to get the repair guys to come fix it. Rusty was over and we'd been playing drums downstairs in the basement. I had tons of nice gear down there. Rus and I left to run some errands while the two guys fixed the heater. When we got back they were finished, and were about to leave. About ten minutes later something gave me a really funny feeling (it was my "Little Voice") and I went down to the basement to have a look around. Sure enough there were several stands, drums and cymbals missing. Altogether it was well over a grand's worth of stuff, which way back then was a lot, especially just to help yourself to on a repair job.
They had a good lead on us and were almost back to the office, but I knew if I could blow every stop sign and haul ass I might catch them before they could unload the stuff. We got there just as they were about to leave, and it was obvious they'd been in a hurry, and they freaked when we showed up. We blurted out to another employee to please get the manager because we had reason to believe there was stolen gear in their truck. The two guys denied everything and tried to drive away but Rusty and I blocked their way, and the manager came right out. The gear was in the truck bed under some sheet metal.
It was a young guy and an older guy who'd been with the company a long time. They were frozen. The two guys were fired on the spot. It was a shame for the old guy who'd been there forever but he shouldn't have let the kid get away with it. The old guy got his tools and split, but when the kid tried to get his the owner stopped him. "Those are mine" he said. "You're about to owe me." The kid started begging for his tools while Rusty and I loaded my gear into the car. There were some scratches and a punctured drum head from sharp metal, but otherwise no major damage, and it was all there.
I thought the kid was going to hock the stuff and buy dope but actually he had a friend who was just starting to play drums and didn't have much equipment, and he wanted to give him that stuff for Christmas. Nice sentiment, but not with my shit buddy. The owner called me into his office. They were otherwise a very reputable company that had been in business for decades. They were who we always used. He got out his checkbook to "compensate" me but I knew that most of it was for not dragging their name in the mud, which I didn't do.
The reason I'm telling this is because he wrote me a substantial check, which I hurriedly cashed and did a flurry of last-minute shopping to enhance my giving for that year. He wrote me a check for a grand. I couldn't believe it and tried to refuse it but he wouldn't hear of it. That's why he kept the guy's tools. The guy cried about it and called me regularly for well over a year, begging me to give him back the money (!) so he could ransom his tools, but screw him and his drummer buddy. I cashed the check and Rus and I went out to buy some extra gifts, and a mondo sack of weed. Later that evening we picked up my girl Jean and went out to a nice dinner.
What really made that Christmas special was being with Jean. She was my first true love and we were crazy for each other. I have to say that, thank God we still love each other very deeply (and are still together in some parallel universe) and that's a gift in itself. I'd already gotten her a few gifts including a nice cut-crystal jewelry box, but after our spending spree I was able to pack it full of beautiful green buds with red hairs- perfect for the holidays. She was thrilled. We all stopped by and hung out with my folks, and then Rusty went home. Jean and I went over to her house and hung out with her family for a while, and then they went to bed. It was just Jean and me, and ...well, it was Christmas. Merry Christmas, Jeano! I love you.
One year when I was in my mid-20s I guess we decided to bring back travelling Christmas carols. We worked up some tunes and bought some candles and went around to all our friends' houses and surprised them with our singing prowess. When we were kids it was common but by then it had kind of faded out, so it freaked all our friends out. It became sort of a "progressive-drunk" as well, as our friends would invite us in for a cocktail. We'd add them to the ranks and strike out for the next house. That was a blast. It came upon a midnight clear.
I've only scratched the surface and I could go on and on but I haven't been to bed and it's well into Christmas Day, so I'd better finish up. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, like I'm about to get on a wild ride at Six Flags or something. I hope it's just the coffee. I'm sort of staring out into the abyss and wondering WTF is going on, and I know I'm not alone. CNN says that Christmas this year "isn't supposed to be fun." Fuck CNN, but I kinda see their point. I have to wonder if this is the last Christmas I'll spend with my mom. That's an awful thought but from what I know about what's going on, and people being quarantined with no say-so and all the other insane shit going on, it well may be possible. I hope not. I really do. Merry Christmas mom! I love you. You too dad. Say hey to Booie for me.
I may not be a bundle of joy this year but I do still have some love left in my heart. At least there's that. I hope everybody, no matter what the situation, can find a moment of peace and joy. If you happen to be looking for the meaning of Christmas this year, then may you find it and more power to you. BTW we have a beautiful photo of the last tree we ever set up, back at our family home. I can't even remember how long it's been. The photo could be on the cover of a magazine but I couldn't bring myself to put it up. It reminds me of happier times, which these here ain't. Anyway Merry Christmas, if applicable. Sing some songs. Tell your people you love them. Maybe see you next year. Peace.
No comments:
Post a Comment