Coco and the Lions - ROAR

 COCO AND I are watching the Lions play the Packers tonight. Coco is a huge Lions fan. Coco thinks she IS a Lion. I just go along with it for the sake of domestic peace.

I've been a Lions fan since moving to Michigan 44 years ago. The great thing about living in Quincy is that most Lions games (until now) aren't on television in this market and people usually feel sorry for me when learning my devotion to a historically bad team. 

Not now.

Last year the Lions were good. Really, really good. So good they should have gone to the Super Bowl, where they would have clubbed that team west of here, the one with all the fair-weather and bandwagon fans. In a very short time, Detroit got an excellent young coach, an experienced gunslinger quarterback, two amazing running backs, the best offensive line in the NFL and a defense that bends but seldom breaks. 

Coco getting pensive before a Lions game.

 

Unlike that team to the west, the Lions haven't relied on pure luck to go 11-1. True, the Bears did fall apart in the final seconds a week ago - but being a Lions fan for so long, it's impossible to have any sympathy for a team inventing ways to lose games.

Coco and I warmed up for tonight's big game by watching Michigan beat that team to the south last Saturday. I wasn't going to watch - I thought for sure Michigan would get trounced. Instead, it was the other team who played like it had a huge anchor tied to its feet. 

As far as the end of the game, Coco and I were disgusted at both teams and it tempered our love of the college football. Many things do. Still .... Michigan has won the last four games. Can't do anything about that, team down south.

Coco is a bit nervous about tonight - Green Bay smacked Detroit last year in the game at Ford Field, and the Packers are very good. I may have to give Coco a kitty sedative before it starts because she gets quite vocal and upset. Or she is napping on my lap with one eye open watching the game.

Cats are multitaskers, you know.

Wouldn't it be great if the Lions keep winning and get to the Super Bowl? Coco all but guarantees it. I'm not that dumb. But we will watch, together, fingers and paw crossed, and hope for the best.

 

Celebrating 60 and Jeff VK

  SATURDAY WAS ONE of the best days of my life. And one of the longest.

I turned 60. My sister Charys was here from Colorado and my cousin Roland and wife Amy drove down from Michigan. We had a glorious jam session in my garage Saturday night with great musician friends and about 30 people. It reminded me of the fun Saturdays before Thanksgiving at Second String Music, when we'd have a party and toast our friend Pat Cornwell.

Early Saturday morning, former Cheeseburger bass player Jeff Vankanegan passed away. We jammed with Jeff in July for a one-off gig, and he was mentally still sharp and could still play. But physically he was struggling with a rare neurological disorder, and he ended up not playing the show. 

He went fast after that. 

Jeff at Cheeseburger show last year.

Kirk Gribbler and I went to see him in Good Samaritan Home a week ago Sunday. We played a few songs for him and Mary in his small room. Jeff was confined to a wheelchair and couldn't express his thoughts, but he clearly knew where he was and what we were doing. Mary grabbed his hand and "danced" with Jeff. He gave us big "WOO HOOS" after every song. As we left, he tried to tell us something, and I think it was to come back and do it again.

But he turned two days later. By Wednesday he was at Blessing Hospital. I saw him Friday morning, and he was resting peacefully, Mary holding his hand while sleeping in a chair next to the bed. 

At 4:20 a.m. Saturday, Jeff left us.

Saturday night in the Calftown garage, we toasted Pat Cornwell, Frank Haxel and Steve Pezzella. Then Kirk and I talked for a minute about Jeff. There were tears and laughter and even the people who didn't know Jeff were moved. Kirk had a framed photo of Jeff playing his bass at a show and proudly showed it to everybody.

Then we started playing and it was ... magic. I'm not mentioning names of everybody who participated because I'll forget somebody, but man did it cook. And I will say having Allison Hutson, Monica Scholz and Alicia McCarl all singing like the beautiful songbirds they are was ... special.

Kirk invited Jeff's son, Mike, to hang out with us. Mike didn't know a soul in the room. It didn't matter. We stopped the jam and had another toast to Jeff. "I can feel the love for my dad," Mike said.

Sunday, I took my sister Charys to Bingo at Quincy Brewing Company. We had the best time, and did absolutely nothing the rest of the day. 

At work yesterday, people asked me how it went. "Talk to me Wednesday. Maybe I'll be recovered by then," I said.

I've been talking about future plans, maybe moving back to Michigan in a few years to be closer to the big hole in the ground full of water. 

But after Charys, Roland and Amy experienced the jam session and saw all those people and felt all that love, they had a different opinion.

"You aren't leaving Quincy," they said. 

They might be right.

The day always breaks, sleep or no sleep

 

FOUR YEARS AGO I got Covid for the first time. It was awful. I have blocked most of it out.

The other day I saw a Facebook memory of the sun rising in Quincy. It was taken four years ago, the day after I got Covid, from the roof of our Second String Music building at Fifth and Maine. I must have climbed the stairs and found solace in the sunrise - I wasn't sleeping and I was ticked off in general about Covid and the world.

Sleeping well has always been an issue. Not falling asleep, but staying asleep. So I get it as much as I can when I can.

Three examples about going to sleep come to mind. A few weeks ago, the World Series was on. It was the fifth game. The Dodgers were about to win. It was about the eighth inning. But I was ready for bed. And I couldn't have cared less. In younger years I would have stayed up just to see what happened. Not this time.

ZZZZZZZZ.

Then it was election night. I attempted to stomach TV coverage but gave up after 10 minutes. The results wouldn't change if I stayed up or went to bed - and going to bed was way more important. It's going to be a long four years, but you know what? I'll still go to bed and try to get sleep. We'll get through it, one way or the other.

Then, finally, the most crushing and crucial sleep story - last Sunday night, the Detroit Lions played the Houston, whatevers. Oilers? Texans? I watched the first half at a friend's house and it didn't look good for the Lions. So I went home, watched the third quarter .... and fell asleep on the couch.

When I woke up the game was over. I was exhausted from a rock and roll weekend, so I simply got up, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

The next morning, I couldn't believe it. These are not the same old Lions. They kicked two long field goals in the last five minutes and won. 

Coco, my cat, is a huge Lions fan. In fact, Coco thinks she's a Lion. She wasn't happy I fell asleep and missed the end of the game. "You call yourself a Lions fan?" she said, giving me an angry glare.

I asked her why she didn't wake me up. "Because I was sleeping," she said. "But that's what cats do. You have NO excuse."

True. But I refuse to feel guilty about it. 

Next week, I turn 60. This is scaring the living crap out of me. What? SIXTY? And the thing is ... I'm wondering how I'm going to stay awake for the festivities, whatever they end up being.

Actually, I'm going to make an effort to say up that night. And maybe the night before. But definitely not the night after.

I'll still be 60 the next day, sleep or no sleep.

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!