Broken ribs, stage falls and winning lip sync contests

 WE ARE APPROACHING the one-year anniversary of a famous event - the falling off of a stage during a lip sync contest. It involves breaking ribs and winning the contest. 

Yup. Winning. Was it worth it?

A year ago, Adam Yates convinced me to join him, Mike Sorensen and Alicia McCarl to compete in the Quincy YWCA's annual lip sync contest. It's part of the Voice For All Women event. It's a big deal. It's at the Oakley-Lindsay Center and there are always a lot of people there. 

I think there were 10 teams entered, and three celebrity judges scored the acts. Adam decided we were going to lip sync to "The Streak" by Ray Stevens. Guess who the streaker was? I can't figure out if I screwed up a few too many guitar solos playing with Adam and Alicia in Prospect Road, or maybe Adam just couldn't find anybody else. Come to think of it, Justin Sievert was supposed to do it but begged off. 

He missed out on history.

I wasn't naked. I wore shorts and a T-shirt. My job was simple. Run out onto the stage during the first and second chorus. Adam and Mike had the hard parts. I just had to run around and google-eye Ethel, played by Alicia.

We practiced a few nights before, in the dark, on Adam's driveway. "I even drew out the stage dimensions on my driveway. I showed you exactly where to go," he said. 

So, on that fateful Friday night, I showed up, not naked, and got ready to run around the stage.

Here's what most people don't know - the audience clearly sees the stage. But the stage lights are ... blinding. So there's no way to see where you are going. Plus I was bouncing a basketball. And wearing sunglasses. 

I survived the first chorus. But on the second chorus, I kick over a light by the end of the stage, and then got too close to the front. And down I went, bouncing my ribs off the sharp edge.

I don't remember much after that. It knocked the wind out of me. I managed to climb back up. Alicia (Ethel) helped me off the stage when we were done. In the dressing room, I lifted my shirt to see a nasty red welt. And ... it hurt. A lot.

I manage to get back on the stage with everybody else to hear the results. Guess what? WE WON THE #$%^$%#$#% CONTEST. So I guess it was worth it.

Allison Hutson of The Whatevers was there. She performed a Spice Girls song with some friends. It was ...spicy. Anyway, her soon-to-be husband Ryan was backstage running lights. Ryan texted Allison after I fell. "Did Rodney die?" Ryan asked.

Allison texted back, "I think so."

Adam snapped a cell phone photo (right) of my ribs right after it happened, took his phone out to the audience for all to see, and promptly raised another $200 for the YWCA under the guise of me not nearly meeting my deductible - going to the hospital to check my ribs was gonna cost me.

I don't remember much of the next two days. I just remember lying down and then not being able to get back up. I had trouble breathing. And the less I moved the more it hurt. But when I moved .... you get the idea.

Finally on Monday morning, I took a look at the massive bruise on my side. Geesh. Impressive is an understatement. At the bottom you can see a photo, but skip it if you are squeamish. So I went to the Ortho Walk In at Blessing's 48th Street facility. The doctor took one look at my side and said, "Wow!" He poked and prodded. It hurt. A lot. But there was no apparent internal damage, and I could breathe without passing out. He said, "Your ribs are probably broken. We could get an X-Ray. But it won't do anything because you really can't put broken ribs in a cast or fix them with something."

So. I ixnayed the X-Ray. Because it was going to cost a lot. Even with good insurance. He did prescribe some nice little white pills. They were ... dreamy. But I only took them at night.

It was a week before I could lie down to go to sleep. If I coughed, it was .... agonizing. I had muscle spasms the first few days and they brought tears. It was awful.

But. We won. And that's what counts.

I even kept going to work. I had the guys in Purchasing lift the heavy stuff. What I found was doing nothing hurt worse than actually moving around. Then some of the Lab Brats found out about it and made me show them my bruise. Every day. They were impressed. And Lab Brats don't impress easily.

About 10 days later, a Lab Brat said, "It's turning yellow. That means it's healing." I was relieved. And still really sore.

It took a month for it to stop hurting. It took six weeks before I could cough without crying. Busted ribs take a long time to heal. But they did. I lived.

Did I mention we won the contest?

This Friday, the same group is back for this year's event. Because we won last year, we can't compete against the other teams. We are the opening act, purely entertainment for the contest to follow. We have something spooky cooked up.

But I don't have to run around the stage. So I won't fall off. Hopefully. 

I mean ... it has to be worth it.

Attacking balloons to get rid of country music ick

AT THE END of the work day, I go to Blessing's 48th Street facility and sit at a podium. We often have people coming in for late lab work or x-rays, etc. I'll get them directed to the right spot. It's a good way to wind down what are often hectic days of driving and walking around in circles.

The problem lately at 48th Street is that some administrator has decided to play awful late 90s and early 2000s country music over the intercom. This was a bad time in country music, a lot of bad songs by average "artists" who had little talent. Here! Let's record this one! Let's auto-tune the harmony vocals! Let's put the same old Telecaster guitar solo right before the last verse! Yay!

Some days I just want to hurt something or somebody after being forced to listen to it.

I won't mention the name of the person who is in charge of this, but his initials are Evan Canfield. I asked him nicely the other day to put different music on at the end of the night, but he was in a meeting and has way more important stuff to do, like running various hospital departments, so the request has fallen on deaf ears. Like, my fingers in my ears when I sit at the podium.

It might be time to go over Evan's head.

Yesterday was Ashley "Red" Redenius' 40th birthday. She's one of the head Lab Brats. She is awesome and likes Caramel Marching Band coffee. She has an office at 48th, and other Lab Brats decorated it with some nice balloons over the doorway. I hope Red had a great birthday. But she left yesterday afternoon and didn't take the balloons and won't be back until next week. So ... they had to go.

Another head Lab Brat, Amanda, started taking the balloons off the doorway and gently inserting needles into them to deflate them. "I don't want to hurt them," she said. That's when the week of being force-fed bad country music finally overtook me.

I grabbed a pen. And I went to town. Pop! Pop! Pop! It felt wickedly ... satisfying. Then the pen didn't work on the smaller balloons, so I started slashing with scissors. Slashing With Scissors is a GREAT band name. And it's a great way to get rid of frustration. On inanimate objects, of course.

Younger Lab Brats Skylar and Ashley took video. Can't wait to see that on Instachat or Lab Couriers Gone Wrong online. Soon there was nothing but shredded balloons and a weird rubber smell. 

Of course Ashley and Skylar, the nicest young people you'll ever meet, sweetly suggested we clean it up. Unfortunately I had to go. We did leave a few balloons over the doorway and I hope Red's 40th will be remembered as the best ever. It will for me, anyway.

Somebody else better have a birthday and balloons next week if the country music keeps playing on the intercom. Ya'll been warned.

 

 

Cigar store, done right

 MY NEW FAVORITE small business in Quincy is Luxe Stogie Co. on York Street, across from the Ratskellar and Dick Brothers Brewery buildings. Owner Alex O'Neal is starting small but is already growing and thinking big. I spent a few hours there Saturday during Octoberfest and it was glorious.

Luxe is located inside an old tire and auto repair store. Alex has done a ton of work inside and just hung up a beautiful sign in front of the store. He has a decent sized humidor and his cigar selection is excellent. Most range from $7 to $20, decent prices for a good cigar. There's a nice back room with overstuffed couches for you to enjoy your stogie, or you can sit on the sidewalk by a table and light up.

I'm not a hardcore cigar smoker but in the summer I like to puff on a good one every now and then. That's the great part about Luxe - Alex is extremely knowledgeable and knows his products inside and out. A lot of newcomers to the world of cigars walked into his store Saturday and Alex put them at ease and made them feel welcome. He isn't going to sell you a heavy cigar if you are just starting out or only have one now and then. 

In Holland last August I went to George's Smoke Shop, my go-to during the Michigan trips. I bought a Henry Clay War Hawk cigar and it was one of the best I've ever smoked. So I mentioned it to Alex when I got back to Quincy. Lo and behold, on Saturday Alex had a case of War Hawk cigars in his humidor. And it was just as good Saturday as it was on that Lake Michigan beach in August.

I admire Alex and his wife Jamie (yup, he outkicked the coverage there) for putting in the long hours and learning the ins and outs of owning a small business. Alex's real job is at Gardner-Denver. The cigar thing is now more than just a pipe dream (STOP IT). Among his next goals are to expand the space and offer memberships. Then there's the tricky liquor license thing, which is massively expensive and full of challenges. Good luck with that one, Alex.

Not long ago I was in there on a Saturday afternoon and decided to smoke a good stogie with him. We had a great talk about a lot of things. We have some different ideas and beliefs and you know what? It was all good. I'm thinking more people should get together over a stogie to talk about life. It might make them appreciate things more.

Alex has embarked on a great adventure and I'm wishing him the best of luck. You can be a newcomer or a cigar aficionado, doesn't matter. Smoke em if you got em, and make sure you get em at Luxe!

Proud to play at Pride

 SUNDAY WAS A rainy and overcast day at Clat Adams Park in Quincy. But it was beautiful. It was Pride in the Park. And it was an honor and privilege to be there.

Pride is a celebration of life, NOT just a LGBTQ event. I'm struck every year by the love, respect and inclusiveness on display. People are happy to be there and do nothing but show love. 

I've played at all four Pride events at Clat Adams. This year Cori couldn't make it so I just did it myself, early, as people were filtering in and the rain tapered off to a mist. It was a blast. I got to play a few original songs and make noise and couldn't have had a better time. Many thanks to Chris and Austin for inviting me. I'll do it every year, if asked. Also a big shout out to my Rent partner in crime, Ian Carlstrom, for doing a great job with sound.

I was exhausted from playing an amazing gig with Allison Hutson in Hannibal the night before. Plus we just lost our beloved English Shepherd, Genie. So I went home after playing and did what I do best the rest of the day - nothing.

A got a flurry of messages from people at the event about a caravan of protestors that drove past, honking horns and showing their disdain. "It just made the park louder," one friend said.

Congrats, Caravan of Ignorance! Your attempts at intimidation and showing your side backfired. You just made everybody else prove that love wins, not hate and stupidity.

This next part is going to get me in trouble, but I'm beyond caring. Somebody told me my employer, Blessing Health, was "taking a beating" for being a major sponsor of Pride. Apparently the drag shows at Pride drew the wrath of the web warriors and uninformed.

If you are so upset about drag shows at Pride events, well, the cure is obvious. Don't go. In my opinion, people who froth at the mouth at rallies held by convicted felons telling lies is a far worse thing. And I'm not being specific.

My friend Tony Metz, a former pastor in Quincy, had a FB post today that pretty much summed it up. "I wonder how may folks went to church and 'worshiped Jesus' before they strapped flags to their truck and paraded past Pride in the Park seeking to intimidate and strike fear in our hearts. I bet a lot."

Wouldn't bet against you, Tony. BTW ... I was in church Sunday morning before going to Pride. 

I'm just a straight man in a screwed up world trying to figure it out. Pride is a great example of figuring it out. And I'm way better off for participating.

 

 

 

.

Last live music push

WE ARE  GEARING up for a busy couple of weeks to end a hectic season of live shows. This Saturday at the Great River Brewery in Hannibal, Allison Hutson and I are playing from 7 to 9 p.m. This is an acoustic Whatevers show and it will be the last public gig for Allison and me for a while.

Allison is getting married at the end of the year and we've decided to take a break. It's been quite a ride for the past two-plus years and I wish Allison and Ryan the best. I'm sure we'll be back in 2025 but we are putting the Whatevers into hibernation, for now.

That's followed next weekend by a fun Saturday morning into afternoon show with Prospect Road. In two weeks, Cori is back and HartLess hits Tipsy Bricks in Hannibal once again for another fun night on the porch!

Then ... quiet. I'm sure shows will pop up here and there but nothing is planned. Coco and I are ready for quieter weekends and yelling at the TV watching the Lions and college football. Ahhh ... peace and quiet and normality! It's not overrated.

Thank you to everyone who came out this past summer to see us play, Whatever band or duo it was. 

Saturday Sept. 21 - The Whatevers (Allison and Rodney), Great River Brewing Company, Hannibal, 7-9 p.m.

Sunday Sept. 22 - Rodney solo, Pride In The Park, Clat Adams Park, Quincy, 12:15 p.m.

Saturday Sept. 28 - Prospect Road, Hy-Vee at Harrison fall parking lot party, 10 a.m. 

Saturday Oct. 5 - HartLess at Tipsy Bricks, Hannibal, 7-10 p.m.

Spinal Tap moment going to see Spinal Tap

 LAST WEEK THE Ratskellar in Quincy showed "This Is Spinal Tap" as part of a year-long film series. Spinal Tap is my favorite band and favorite movie. Ever. I was very excited and even though I've seen it a hundred times, I was looking forward to it.

Friday night I headed to Lux, the fabulous new cigar place across the street from the Ratskellar. After a nice stogie and chat with Alex, the owner, I went into the bar and was all fired up.

"Where are they showing the movie?" I asked the bartender.

"Over there," she said, pointing to a side room. "But it was last night."

Heavy sigh ....

Look. Not getting dates right and forgetting stuff is par for the course. I am not making fun of memory loss or dementia - it's an issue that's hitting home right now for a couple of reasons. But I'm very good at simply being a dumb-ass and forgetting, or not looking closely enough at the actual date of the actual event.

I blame my late sweet mother, God bless her soul. She was always forgetting things and getting us lost on road trips. Or, as my father likes to say, "I have a good memory. It's just short."

Last week I was chatting with a guy I play in a band with, Adam Yates of Prospect Road. I said, "I'm really looking forward to having this Saturday off." He said, "Yeah, but we have a gig Saturday. Remember?" 

Of course I remember! Not. It's on my calendar, of course. But why should I bother looking at the calendar every time?

Because it's saved my life more than once.

I'm very sorry about missing Spinal Tap. It's about an English heavy metal band that goes on tour and everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong. The first few times I saw it, including 40 years ago in a Grand Rapids theater, I fell out of my chair laughing. But now I tend to cry because it's all so true, even though it's meant to be a farce.

I've gotten lost trying to find the gig or even the room we are playing. I've lost bandmates over dumb arguments. I've had drummers spontaneously combust on stage or die in bizarre gardening accidents. Hey. It happens. 

Earlier this summer Prospect Road played in Quincy. We were doing the song "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac, all two chords (F to G). But our bass player, Filbert Sievert, had his low E string knocked out of tune. So he played it lower. I was in one key, our poor singer was in another, and Justin was wondering what the fuss was all about. Three different keys all at once! It's not easy to do,  you know.

I have a million other Spinal Tap stories, but I'd have to remember them. And there isn't enough room here to tell them all.