Ladies and Gentlemen, please keep your hands and feet inside of this moving post, until it comes to a full and complete stop......
In other words, kindly shut the fuck up and pay attention.
MYYYY Goodness! We HAVE seen a bit of shifting sand lately, no?
I mean, there have been all KINDS of posts from everyone from BillyJoeBob down the street, to the President of the United States going on and on about these million-dollar spoiled "sons of bitches". How they need to just shut up and do what they're paid for! They make MILLIONS of the hard earned dollars from you and I work for, and when sunday comes around, we just wanna watch the game and forget about the hard times we're living in for a couple of hours! HOW DARE THEY KNEEL IN PROTEST AGAINST ATROCITIES, INJUSTICES, ABUSES OF POWER, RAPE, MURDER, BRUTALITY......
RIGHT??????
Why those inconsiderate bastards are taking away from OUR leisure to protest, by taking a knee during the National Anthem while we SIT in our living rooms and sports bars feeling disrespected by them!!!
Let's not concern ourselves with the fact that they are exercising their first amendment right, guaranteed by the same constitution that our veterans (like myself, thank you very much), servicemen and women, president AND vice president swore to uphold and protect. Let's leave out the fact that they honor our fallen. Let's not point out that the reason they take a knee and not just sit down, is because one decorated veteran took the time to meet with Colin Kaepernick and hear him out and advised the taking of the knee. Let's also leave out that most of those taking a knee love our country and our freedoms and our military that defends their freedoms.
They make millions and it's awful ballsy of them to protest and bring awareness.
But, I don't seem to see BillyJoeBob down the street, the POTUS or anyone else saying the same thing to the millionaire actresses who are using their public platform to bring awareness to the rape, the injustice, the abuses of power in Hollywood , the atrocities and brutalities against themselves and other women. I seem to hear a deafening silence from you armchair patriots. Why, shouldn't THEY ALSO be being told to just shut up and do what they're paid to do? I mean, don't they ALSO make millions off of the hard-earned dollars that you and I work for? Don't we just want to watch a fine film brought to us from the Weinstein Company and others, and forget about the hard times for a couple of hours? Why aren't these inconsiderate daughters of bitches being fired for opening their mouths?!
Ohhhhh....so the standard doesn't apply both ways. They are victims. They are held against their will, having done nothing to deserve being detained in the first place. The way they dress isn't an excuse to attack them, now is it? They should feel just as safe as you and I, going to the place where their oppressor, their assaulter, their rapist....and sometimes even their murderer, is. They are the victims and they shouldn't be made to feel like they're doing something wrong when they resist these unprovoked assaults. They shouldn't be silenced when they speak out against those who would abuse their position of authority, and make them fear for their lives.......
And neither should the actresses.....oh, you didn't realize I meant....oh, nevermind.
Mr Weinstein IS a despicable individual. He's a piece of shit, and i'm not taking his side or defending him. I'm just asking YOU, America, why you demonize Colin Kaepernick and other NFL players for bringing awareness, but not Ashley Judd, Rose McGowan, Asia Argento, Mira Sorvino, Rosanna Arquette, Angelina Jolie, Gwyneth Paltrow, Heather Graham, etc. etc.
After all, was Tamir Rice any less of a victim? Mario Woods? Michael Brown? Eric Garner? Walter Scott? Etc Etc. Of course they weren't victims...after all, how could they be?!
Please, keep telling me how all lives matter......
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Thursday, August 31, 2017
My Son, 21 Years Ago Today
Dear Chris,
I can't begin to say how much I love you and how proud of you I am. I've watched you grow into this incredible man. I suppose every father says such things about his children. But I'm not them, i'm me. And many don't get to have the relationship that you and I share. I remember the day you were born, like it was yesterday. Your Grandma Roberta and cousin Audrey were in from California, visiting your mother and I, they were HOPING to be present to see you come into the world. But, you decided to grace us with your presence the day they had to leave. Your maternal grandparents wound up driving them back down to Indianapolis, to the airport, while your Mom and I were in the hospital, having you. When you came into the world, I remember looking at you then at your mom and saying "Look! He's got an outie, not an inny!" The nurse said "We won't know that until the umbilical chord falls off." I looked at her and said "I wasn't talking about his belly button". The nurse rolled her eyes and said "Have you folks already picked out a name?" I said "Yes. William Christopher Lindwedel the Second". She looked at me and asked "I thought your name was Wade", "It is", I replied. She then tried to tell me, "Well, I don't think you can do that, if it's not your name too". I was incredulous. "His GRANDFATHER was William Christopher Lindwedel, that's why he is 'the Second', as opposed to 'Jr'. If I wanted to name him Francis Ford Coppola the 73rd, that would be his name, and that would be what you put on his birth certificate. Are we clear?". Before you were born, this was your name. Before you were conceived, this was your name. Before I met your mother, this was your name. The day your namesake, my father, left this world to go on to the next, was the day I said "My firstborn son will carry his name". I was planning you before I knew if I would EVER have children. All of your life from the moment of your birth, I promised you that we would be BEST FRIENDS FOREVER. LONNNNNNG before the world began using the term "BFF", that was who we were. That is who we are. I've watched your first steps, heard your first words, dried your first tears. Have there been bad times? Why, yes there have. I've not always been the best father. I'm fairly open about my shortcomings and failings. Somehow, you've still loved me, even through stupid shit that I have done at times, and even when I have had low-points and failings. You are so much wiser than I was at your age, and I love that even still, you call me for advice when you need it. Sometimes, you have done so knowing you wouldn't take the advice, but you wanted to at least know my thoughts, or what possible outcomes you didn't think of. I could go on writing for hours and hours about this young man I hold in such high esteem. Thank you for being the best friend a father could ask for. Thank you for forgiving my shortcomings and loving me anyway. I want the world to know, if I haven't told them already, what you mean to me, and what a great man you have become and are still yet becoming.
Today, you turn 21. Wow! The world is yours, son. The words that Alexander the Great's father said to him, I pass on to you.
"My son ask for thyself another
Kingdom, for that which I leave
is too small for thee"
(King Philip of Macedonia - 339 B.C.)
I love you, Chris. Happy Birthday.
I can't begin to say how much I love you and how proud of you I am. I've watched you grow into this incredible man. I suppose every father says such things about his children. But I'm not them, i'm me. And many don't get to have the relationship that you and I share. I remember the day you were born, like it was yesterday. Your Grandma Roberta and cousin Audrey were in from California, visiting your mother and I, they were HOPING to be present to see you come into the world. But, you decided to grace us with your presence the day they had to leave. Your maternal grandparents wound up driving them back down to Indianapolis, to the airport, while your Mom and I were in the hospital, having you. When you came into the world, I remember looking at you then at your mom and saying "Look! He's got an outie, not an inny!" The nurse said "We won't know that until the umbilical chord falls off." I looked at her and said "I wasn't talking about his belly button". The nurse rolled her eyes and said "Have you folks already picked out a name?" I said "Yes. William Christopher Lindwedel the Second". She looked at me and asked "I thought your name was Wade", "It is", I replied. She then tried to tell me, "Well, I don't think you can do that, if it's not your name too". I was incredulous. "His GRANDFATHER was William Christopher Lindwedel, that's why he is 'the Second', as opposed to 'Jr'. If I wanted to name him Francis Ford Coppola the 73rd, that would be his name, and that would be what you put on his birth certificate. Are we clear?". Before you were born, this was your name. Before you were conceived, this was your name. Before I met your mother, this was your name. The day your namesake, my father, left this world to go on to the next, was the day I said "My firstborn son will carry his name". I was planning you before I knew if I would EVER have children. All of your life from the moment of your birth, I promised you that we would be BEST FRIENDS FOREVER. LONNNNNNG before the world began using the term "BFF", that was who we were. That is who we are. I've watched your first steps, heard your first words, dried your first tears. Have there been bad times? Why, yes there have. I've not always been the best father. I'm fairly open about my shortcomings and failings. Somehow, you've still loved me, even through stupid shit that I have done at times, and even when I have had low-points and failings. You are so much wiser than I was at your age, and I love that even still, you call me for advice when you need it. Sometimes, you have done so knowing you wouldn't take the advice, but you wanted to at least know my thoughts, or what possible outcomes you didn't think of. I could go on writing for hours and hours about this young man I hold in such high esteem. Thank you for being the best friend a father could ask for. Thank you for forgiving my shortcomings and loving me anyway. I want the world to know, if I haven't told them already, what you mean to me, and what a great man you have become and are still yet becoming.
Today, you turn 21. Wow! The world is yours, son. The words that Alexander the Great's father said to him, I pass on to you.
"My son ask for thyself another
Kingdom, for that which I leave
is too small for thee"
(King Philip of Macedonia - 339 B.C.)
I love you, Chris. Happy Birthday.
Saturday, June 3, 2017
The Day The Music Died....and Took A Piece of My Youth With It
My phone rang at 1:30AM Friday morning. I looked at the caller ID
and it said the caller was Kangol Kid. Kangol has been my friend,
mentor, confidant, my father in the industry, and at times consigliari.
We often have late night conversations, as that is the productive time
for most artists, and i've always been a night owl, so a late night call
from him isn't typically cause for alarm. BUT, the gf was asleep in
the next room, and no matter how much I try to be quiet, I just have a
voice that carries. So, I sent the call to voice mail. I sent Kang a
text, "My voice carries far too loud at 1am in a house with a sleeping
wife. What's up? You good?" The text I received in return made my heart
go cold with a deep sadness.
"The members of UTFO just left EMD on his deathbed in the hospital.....which we all found out he's been in for a month"
I immediately grabbed my bluetooth, put it in my ear, and stepped onto the back porch and closed the door. I called Kang. "Yeah, I figured that would make you call" he said as he answered. "Yo, what the fuck happened??" Kangol proceeded to tell me that E was withered away to basically nothing, unrecognizable, from cancer. He told me that E has basically spoken his last words, and is now too weak to even speak. Kangol Kid, Doc Ice, and Mixmaster Ice were gathered in a circle holding hands and holding EMD's hands and praying for a miracle. At that moment, old beefs were set non-existent. No egos were in place, no one was an international star....At that moment, it was just Shawn Fequiere, Maurice Bailey, and Fred Reeves, praying for Jeffrey Campbell. Four men who just yesterday were boys from the neighborhood, who made it big with a hit song that would dominate the airwaves and create a storm of answer records, the likes the record industry had never seen.
Kangol proceeded to tell me the story of how nobody knew that this was going on. Not even the member who was closest to E, Mixmaster. But as soon as Mixmaster found out, he immediately flew to New York, and reached out to Doc and Kang. They all converged on the hospital to see E and basically to say goodbye. What they found was no longer The Educated Rapper, but their friend from the neighborhood, Jeff Campbell. But not even really him any longer. Just a shell of what was once a vibrant man and dynamic rapper.
This is all very difficult for me to even go into. Not because I work with Kang, and know Doc and Ice and have spoken with E. You have to understand this one thing. My very introduction to rap, was "Beats and Rhymes". Of course I had heard "Rapper's Delight", but THAT song made me fall in love with rap. From 1983, I was a fan of UTFO. I grew up on their music. I shoplifted the Skeezer Pleezer album from KMart, because I didn't have the money to purchase it, but I HAD to have it! I was in the army when "Lethal" came out. "Doin It" had some of my favorite tunes on it, even though it would mark the departure of Doc Ice, to embark on a solo career. I also LOVED Doc's solo album "The Mic Stalker". I have a funny story about that album but i'll get into that in another post. I bought and even enjoyed most of "Bag it and Bone It", although without the presence of all four members, the album just wasn't the same. EMD has been a part of my life for 34 years! He's been a part of most of my generation's lives as well.
EMD was much more than just a classic rap artist. He was a valedictorian, an expert in the field of communications. He was a founding father of Hip Hop, a founding member of one of the hottest bands on the planet at one time. He was part of the reason that newspapers had to be hidden during a particular tour, because the papers all talked about how UTFO had torn the house down in last night's concert and stolen the show from it's headliners, New Edition. He was a voice we breakdanced to in the 80s. But much more than that, he was a brother to three other guys who stormed the world and helped put Brooklyn on the musical map.
Rest well, sir. Thank you for the years and music. You WILL be missed.
Buon Anima
"The members of UTFO just left EMD on his deathbed in the hospital.....which we all found out he's been in for a month"
I immediately grabbed my bluetooth, put it in my ear, and stepped onto the back porch and closed the door. I called Kang. "Yeah, I figured that would make you call" he said as he answered. "Yo, what the fuck happened??" Kangol proceeded to tell me that E was withered away to basically nothing, unrecognizable, from cancer. He told me that E has basically spoken his last words, and is now too weak to even speak. Kangol Kid, Doc Ice, and Mixmaster Ice were gathered in a circle holding hands and holding EMD's hands and praying for a miracle. At that moment, old beefs were set non-existent. No egos were in place, no one was an international star....At that moment, it was just Shawn Fequiere, Maurice Bailey, and Fred Reeves, praying for Jeffrey Campbell. Four men who just yesterday were boys from the neighborhood, who made it big with a hit song that would dominate the airwaves and create a storm of answer records, the likes the record industry had never seen.
Kangol proceeded to tell me the story of how nobody knew that this was going on. Not even the member who was closest to E, Mixmaster. But as soon as Mixmaster found out, he immediately flew to New York, and reached out to Doc and Kang. They all converged on the hospital to see E and basically to say goodbye. What they found was no longer The Educated Rapper, but their friend from the neighborhood, Jeff Campbell. But not even really him any longer. Just a shell of what was once a vibrant man and dynamic rapper.
This is all very difficult for me to even go into. Not because I work with Kang, and know Doc and Ice and have spoken with E. You have to understand this one thing. My very introduction to rap, was "Beats and Rhymes". Of course I had heard "Rapper's Delight", but THAT song made me fall in love with rap. From 1983, I was a fan of UTFO. I grew up on their music. I shoplifted the Skeezer Pleezer album from KMart, because I didn't have the money to purchase it, but I HAD to have it! I was in the army when "Lethal" came out. "Doin It" had some of my favorite tunes on it, even though it would mark the departure of Doc Ice, to embark on a solo career. I also LOVED Doc's solo album "The Mic Stalker". I have a funny story about that album but i'll get into that in another post. I bought and even enjoyed most of "Bag it and Bone It", although without the presence of all four members, the album just wasn't the same. EMD has been a part of my life for 34 years! He's been a part of most of my generation's lives as well.
EMD was much more than just a classic rap artist. He was a valedictorian, an expert in the field of communications. He was a founding father of Hip Hop, a founding member of one of the hottest bands on the planet at one time. He was part of the reason that newspapers had to be hidden during a particular tour, because the papers all talked about how UTFO had torn the house down in last night's concert and stolen the show from it's headliners, New Edition. He was a voice we breakdanced to in the 80s. But much more than that, he was a brother to three other guys who stormed the world and helped put Brooklyn on the musical map.
Rest well, sir. Thank you for the years and music. You WILL be missed.
Buon Anima
Thursday, May 11, 2017
RADIO Family Stories Pt 3
"I'm the leader of the show, keeping you on the go.
But I couldn't survive, without my radio!!" - L.L. Cool J
1987 San Diego Job Corp Center, Imperial Beach, Calif. A talent show is being held, and this goofy white kid is taking the stage with two of his black friends. He's had a steady diet of Beat Street, Krush Groove, Breakin, Breakin 2 Electric Boogaloo, and rap music since it's inception, memorizing every lyric on every album, the song order on each album, the names and backgrounds of every member of every group he idolized, and even the liner notes and album credits. It's for this reason that while others know the name UTFO, this kid knows they were produced by Full Force, managed by Full Force and Easy Steve Salem (RIP), and the music was engineered by Questar "Quick" Welsh. He is obsessed with rap and has told his parents that he is, one day, going to hitch hike to NYC and get discovered by Full Force or Russell Simmons and Rick Rubin! But tonight, he is in a talent show, in front of all of Job Corp, wearing FAR too tight parachute pants, bandanas, a white sweater that zipped up at the neck (stylish back then), and a black fedora. He paraphrases LL's lines from Krush Groove, and then breaks into "Radio", rapping over the original recording. At the end of his song, he does JUST what Rakim said to "I used to let the mic smoke, now I slam it when i'm done and make SURE it's broke!". No kidding. I slammed that mic down on the stage and walked off like I owned the place!
My Radio.
But let me tell you a bit of a deeper story of how radio played such a huge part in my life. I will take you back to the end of the 70s. From a very young age, I heard music different than most. I listened to songs deeper. I obsessed over the ones I liked, memorizing every keyboard, every bass-line, every guitar, every melody, every harmony....the song that most made up my memories from that era, is "The Twilight Zone" by Manhattan Transfer. I had a small am/fm transistor radio that my mom had given me, and I would sleep with it playing music, under my pillow. That song was very popular in it's day, and played a lot. There were other songs, but that one stays in my mind with very solid memories surrounding it.
We lived at 1411 W. 12th street, Santa Ana, CA. right around the corner from Santa Ana College, where I would roller skate on their tennis courts. It was on that campus that I first saw the marquee for "The Rocky Horror Show, Saturdays 12am". It was a live performance by the college theater group, and it was at the beginnings of the RHPS hayday, and it would be 20 some years before I took my first "jump to the left, and then a step to the right". I went to Wilson Elementary School, and my sister went to Willard Jr. High. My favorite teacher was Miss Lear. Up until that year (4th grade), I had been known as "Petey". That was a nickname given to my by my parents. But I had decided that Petey was a kid and I was a big boy now, and I was to be called "Wade". (Side note, UNLESS I have given you direct permission, do not call me any other name than the one I have introduced myself to you as. Few get away with calling me Wade anymore, and the "Petey" list is even smaller. If you know me, then you should know that i'm not playing, and if you test me, you're not going to like the end result. Be advised).
At any rate, among those who are allowed to address me as "Wade", is Miss Lear. It turned out, that not only did she have an impact on me, but I did on her as well. In 2008, I returned to Wilson Elementary to look around the old school and relive some memories. I went into the office and spoke with the secretary. "I don't suppose Miss Lear still teaches here..." "Actually, this was her last year. She is retiring. Her classroom is 13a, and she should be in there packing up her room". My heart went into my throat. I went to 13a, and opened the door. There, at the chalkboard, erasing what was the last bit of writing from the school year, was a little old lady. "Miss Lear?" I asked. She turned around and in spite of the hair, age, and wrinkles, I recognized the face of my favorite teacher of my entire school career. More importantly, was that before I could say another word, her face lit up in the biggest, brightest smile, as she said "Oh my goodness....you're Wade!!!" She came over and hugged me, and it was the most amazing experience I have had in years. Why she remembered me I don't know. When I asked she simply laughed and said "How could I NOT remember you?".
Back to the Radio.
From early childhood, we would listen as a family, every night, to "Unshackled", a christian radio broadcast from The Pacific Garden Mission, in Chicago Illinois, 60605. Their number was "Wabash 2, 9462" I'll never forget the announcer for the show repeating the address every night. This was mostly something that mom and us kids listened to, as I stated in an earlier entry, dad drove long haul over the road, and was gone quite a bit. Some of those memories bleed into our home at 11651 Wasco Rd in Garden Grove. It's there where the story behind my fb posting earlier in the week came from. At that time, I was going to Bethel Baptist Christian School, and had to ride the OCTD bus there EARLY every day. My mom instilled in me at a young age, that my "ironing" was MY job. She ironed her clothes and daddy's clothes, but MINE were MY responsibility. So, I had to get up early to iron my clothes, because there was a strict dress code at Bethel. The christian radio station that we listened to Unshackled on, in the early morning, would play the "Good Morning" song from "Bullfrogs and Butterflies" and my mother would BLAST that song when it came on, as our wake up call.
As we got older, at some point, my parents (actually I believe there is a deeper story about an argument of sorts between them, but i'm not sure) decided that we weren't going to have a TV anymore. I can honestly say, in retrospect, that was one of the best things to ever happen to us kids. Hell, even when we HAD a TV, I don't think us kids were allowed to watch it until like after the 6pm news. My horrible terrible parents made us actually go outside and play! Why, we had to use our imaginations and stuff! Can you BELIEVE IT!? I wonder how far the statute of limitations goes on that one. I might be able to sue them. Well, mom anyhow. Once again, as usual, dad's not around for this....I mean, he's dead, but he's probably just using that for an excuse. I digress.
Where was I? Child abuse, neglect....oh yes! I remember now! No TV. Well, we didn't have one. What we DID have was the radio. And still every night, we would listen to Unshackled. Only now, dad was home more often and didn't care for Unshackled as much. So, he brought home some cassettes of old time radio shows. While other kids were watching Dukes of Hazzard, we were gathered together as a family, and listening to "The Whistler", "Inner Sanctum Mysteries, starring Boris Karloff", "The Lone Ranger Rides Again", "Charlie McCarthy and WC Fields", and "The War of The Worlds". My parents had a card game called Mille Bournes that they taught me how to play, and we would play that together at the dinner table in the evening, while listening to radio shows sponsored by "LSMFT, Lucky Strikes means fine tobacco! So round, so firm, so fully packed! So free and easy on the draw! LUCKY STRIKES!" and Chase and Sandborn coffee!
Years went by, and we wound up with a TV again. But no memories are quite as fond for me, as those nights gathered around the radio, playing cards together.
Oh, that white kid from Job Corps? He spent 12 years in the army, and now that same obsessing he did over rap groups and music, payed off. He works with all of those artists, whose posters once resided on his walls, and whose album credits he memorized. Even some of the producers and engineers. Funny how life works, ain't it?
But I couldn't survive, without my radio!!" - L.L. Cool J
1987 San Diego Job Corp Center, Imperial Beach, Calif. A talent show is being held, and this goofy white kid is taking the stage with two of his black friends. He's had a steady diet of Beat Street, Krush Groove, Breakin, Breakin 2 Electric Boogaloo, and rap music since it's inception, memorizing every lyric on every album, the song order on each album, the names and backgrounds of every member of every group he idolized, and even the liner notes and album credits. It's for this reason that while others know the name UTFO, this kid knows they were produced by Full Force, managed by Full Force and Easy Steve Salem (RIP), and the music was engineered by Questar "Quick" Welsh. He is obsessed with rap and has told his parents that he is, one day, going to hitch hike to NYC and get discovered by Full Force or Russell Simmons and Rick Rubin! But tonight, he is in a talent show, in front of all of Job Corp, wearing FAR too tight parachute pants, bandanas, a white sweater that zipped up at the neck (stylish back then), and a black fedora. He paraphrases LL's lines from Krush Groove, and then breaks into "Radio", rapping over the original recording. At the end of his song, he does JUST what Rakim said to "I used to let the mic smoke, now I slam it when i'm done and make SURE it's broke!". No kidding. I slammed that mic down on the stage and walked off like I owned the place!
My Radio.
But let me tell you a bit of a deeper story of how radio played such a huge part in my life. I will take you back to the end of the 70s. From a very young age, I heard music different than most. I listened to songs deeper. I obsessed over the ones I liked, memorizing every keyboard, every bass-line, every guitar, every melody, every harmony....the song that most made up my memories from that era, is "The Twilight Zone" by Manhattan Transfer. I had a small am/fm transistor radio that my mom had given me, and I would sleep with it playing music, under my pillow. That song was very popular in it's day, and played a lot. There were other songs, but that one stays in my mind with very solid memories surrounding it.
We lived at 1411 W. 12th street, Santa Ana, CA. right around the corner from Santa Ana College, where I would roller skate on their tennis courts. It was on that campus that I first saw the marquee for "The Rocky Horror Show, Saturdays 12am". It was a live performance by the college theater group, and it was at the beginnings of the RHPS hayday, and it would be 20 some years before I took my first "jump to the left, and then a step to the right". I went to Wilson Elementary School, and my sister went to Willard Jr. High. My favorite teacher was Miss Lear. Up until that year (4th grade), I had been known as "Petey". That was a nickname given to my by my parents. But I had decided that Petey was a kid and I was a big boy now, and I was to be called "Wade". (Side note, UNLESS I have given you direct permission, do not call me any other name than the one I have introduced myself to you as. Few get away with calling me Wade anymore, and the "Petey" list is even smaller. If you know me, then you should know that i'm not playing, and if you test me, you're not going to like the end result. Be advised).
At any rate, among those who are allowed to address me as "Wade", is Miss Lear. It turned out, that not only did she have an impact on me, but I did on her as well. In 2008, I returned to Wilson Elementary to look around the old school and relive some memories. I went into the office and spoke with the secretary. "I don't suppose Miss Lear still teaches here..." "Actually, this was her last year. She is retiring. Her classroom is 13a, and she should be in there packing up her room". My heart went into my throat. I went to 13a, and opened the door. There, at the chalkboard, erasing what was the last bit of writing from the school year, was a little old lady. "Miss Lear?" I asked. She turned around and in spite of the hair, age, and wrinkles, I recognized the face of my favorite teacher of my entire school career. More importantly, was that before I could say another word, her face lit up in the biggest, brightest smile, as she said "Oh my goodness....you're Wade!!!" She came over and hugged me, and it was the most amazing experience I have had in years. Why she remembered me I don't know. When I asked she simply laughed and said "How could I NOT remember you?".
Back to the Radio.
From early childhood, we would listen as a family, every night, to "Unshackled", a christian radio broadcast from The Pacific Garden Mission, in Chicago Illinois, 60605. Their number was "Wabash 2, 9462" I'll never forget the announcer for the show repeating the address every night. This was mostly something that mom and us kids listened to, as I stated in an earlier entry, dad drove long haul over the road, and was gone quite a bit. Some of those memories bleed into our home at 11651 Wasco Rd in Garden Grove. It's there where the story behind my fb posting earlier in the week came from. At that time, I was going to Bethel Baptist Christian School, and had to ride the OCTD bus there EARLY every day. My mom instilled in me at a young age, that my "ironing" was MY job. She ironed her clothes and daddy's clothes, but MINE were MY responsibility. So, I had to get up early to iron my clothes, because there was a strict dress code at Bethel. The christian radio station that we listened to Unshackled on, in the early morning, would play the "Good Morning" song from "Bullfrogs and Butterflies" and my mother would BLAST that song when it came on, as our wake up call.
As we got older, at some point, my parents (actually I believe there is a deeper story about an argument of sorts between them, but i'm not sure) decided that we weren't going to have a TV anymore. I can honestly say, in retrospect, that was one of the best things to ever happen to us kids. Hell, even when we HAD a TV, I don't think us kids were allowed to watch it until like after the 6pm news. My horrible terrible parents made us actually go outside and play! Why, we had to use our imaginations and stuff! Can you BELIEVE IT!? I wonder how far the statute of limitations goes on that one. I might be able to sue them. Well, mom anyhow. Once again, as usual, dad's not around for this....I mean, he's dead, but he's probably just using that for an excuse. I digress.
Where was I? Child abuse, neglect....oh yes! I remember now! No TV. Well, we didn't have one. What we DID have was the radio. And still every night, we would listen to Unshackled. Only now, dad was home more often and didn't care for Unshackled as much. So, he brought home some cassettes of old time radio shows. While other kids were watching Dukes of Hazzard, we were gathered together as a family, and listening to "The Whistler", "Inner Sanctum Mysteries, starring Boris Karloff", "The Lone Ranger Rides Again", "Charlie McCarthy and WC Fields", and "The War of The Worlds". My parents had a card game called Mille Bournes that they taught me how to play, and we would play that together at the dinner table in the evening, while listening to radio shows sponsored by "LSMFT, Lucky Strikes means fine tobacco! So round, so firm, so fully packed! So free and easy on the draw! LUCKY STRIKES!" and Chase and Sandborn coffee!
Years went by, and we wound up with a TV again. But no memories are quite as fond for me, as those nights gathered around the radio, playing cards together.
Oh, that white kid from Job Corps? He spent 12 years in the army, and now that same obsessing he did over rap groups and music, payed off. He works with all of those artists, whose posters once resided on his walls, and whose album credits he memorized. Even some of the producers and engineers. Funny how life works, ain't it?
Monday, March 13, 2017
GET YOUR SHINE BOX!!!!
So, on sunday I posted a picture on Instagram, and I posed the question.
WHY do I keep on this shoe-shine bit? Because if you are coming to present yourself in hopes of employment, and you're dressed to the nines, but your shoes look like they were shined with a Hershey bar, by Joe Shit the Rag Man, one message jumps out. You DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL. If you can't make sure that your entire presentation of self down to your shoes is at it's peak, then you're not going to pay attention to the details of my business. Why would I want to entrust you with my business, which in essence means my NAME? This applies to life, and love as well. How many relationships have failed because of the small details that were either neglected or not communicated? Let's face it, communication is key in relationships, be they business or personal. If you aren't communicating your needs effectively, then your SO isn't responsible for not fulfilling them. For want of a nail, the war was lost and all that. But if you're watching and paying attention to the details, you can avoid a LOT of relationship and life pitfalls.
"Who knows what these items are and why they’re important?"
My brother Martin A5kem got close "it's all about that shine on them shoes!" he said.
Well, yes. But how does that apply to life?
The answer is one so simple, yet so many simply don't seem to get it. When I was younger, I would grab a pair of jeans out of the dryer, and throw them on with a tshirt, shoes and socks, and out the door I would go. Not a care in the world. My mother taught me at a very young age how to iron clothes properly, and the minute I had that skillset, she stopped doing my ironing. It was MY responsibility to press my own clothes. Through all of my years in the army, you can ask my SOs from that time of my life, I never once asked them to press my uniform, or polish my boots. Why? They didn't join the army, I did. That's mostly a topic for another post. But also at a young age, my dad set for me a very good example, in that he wore cowboy boots, spared no expense in buying them, but when he got home at night, he would sit in his easy chair, and watch TV, and polish his boots. Those boots ALWAYS looked good! My father's message to me growing up?
"Take pride in your appearance"
But my point in shoe shine is deeper than just that. As an employer, I do an awful lot of judging and in fact, make hiring decisions, based on your appearance. "You can't judge a book by it's cover". TRUE....and when i'm talking about books, i'll address that statement. But i'm not. I'm talking about people. How you present yourself, reflects much about who you are. If you dress like scum, you can expect people to treat you accordingly. If you look like trouble, you'll be assumed to be trouble. Hell, i'm 6'2" and 250lbs, I cast a long shadow and I walk with my head up, my shoulders back and I make eye-contact with everyone I see. People tend to move aside when i'm walking through a crowd. It's also generally assumed that it's likely not a good idea to fuck with me. That would be true as well. Is there more to me? Sure! I'm actually a fairly personable individual, and i'm easy to get along with and talk to (not to be mistaken for being "nice". I'm not). I love to connect with people, ESPECIALLY my fellow veterans (can I get a HOOWAH?!"). But my wrath isn't something that most people want to just incur for sunday fun.
That being said, when I make those judgements in hiring, they begin long before most people realize. I watch out the window. I want to see what you drove up in. I'm not going to judge your 1986 Pinto with the rust spots and the bent fender. What I AM going to judge is which side of the car you get out of. If you're the driver, then while I COULD be wrong, MOST LIKELY you own your own vehicle and that's great. If you get out of the passenger side, it pretty much means you don't own a vehicle, and transportation is likely an issue. Now, that doesn't slam the door on a job interview with me. It merely guides the tone of the interview. I want to find out if it means you're going to be a problem with tardiness, attendance, etc? OR does the fact that you got a ride mean you WANT a job and will do anything to make sure you're there? I watch how you walk. Do you watch around you? Are you aware of your surroundings? Is your head up? Is there a bounce in your step? I want to know if you're a people-person, or an introvert. Are you engaging? How do you behave when you DON'T know you're being viewed? When you come in the door, I look at how you're dressed.
That being said, when I make those judgements in hiring, they begin long before most people realize. I watch out the window. I want to see what you drove up in. I'm not going to judge your 1986 Pinto with the rust spots and the bent fender. What I AM going to judge is which side of the car you get out of. If you're the driver, then while I COULD be wrong, MOST LIKELY you own your own vehicle and that's great. If you get out of the passenger side, it pretty much means you don't own a vehicle, and transportation is likely an issue. Now, that doesn't slam the door on a job interview with me. It merely guides the tone of the interview. I want to find out if it means you're going to be a problem with tardiness, attendance, etc? OR does the fact that you got a ride mean you WANT a job and will do anything to make sure you're there? I watch how you walk. Do you watch around you? Are you aware of your surroundings? Is your head up? Is there a bounce in your step? I want to know if you're a people-person, or an introvert. Are you engaging? How do you behave when you DON'T know you're being viewed? When you come in the door, I look at how you're dressed.
Are your shoes shined?
WHY do I keep on this shoe-shine bit? Because if you are coming to present yourself in hopes of employment, and you're dressed to the nines, but your shoes look like they were shined with a Hershey bar, by Joe Shit the Rag Man, one message jumps out. You DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL. If you can't make sure that your entire presentation of self down to your shoes is at it's peak, then you're not going to pay attention to the details of my business. Why would I want to entrust you with my business, which in essence means my NAME? This applies to life, and love as well. How many relationships have failed because of the small details that were either neglected or not communicated? Let's face it, communication is key in relationships, be they business or personal. If you aren't communicating your needs effectively, then your SO isn't responsible for not fulfilling them. For want of a nail, the war was lost and all that. But if you're watching and paying attention to the details, you can avoid a LOT of relationship and life pitfalls.
At the end of the day, the message is, remember that if you are keeping your shoes shined, you're telling others that you are paying attention to the details, that the details are IMPORTANT to you, and that you take yourself and your responsibilities seriously!
I've said all I want to say on this one.......
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Family Stories Pt 2
FAMILY STORIES
PART 2
I can and will tell you about every hug, and every ass-kicking, because they were fairly balanced in their dispensing. I need to be clear about this part...I am going to tell the truth as I remember it. That's the part to remember. There may be some dispute at times from others about facts....but I can only tell my story as I remember it.
More about Mom....
There are a million stories that I love to tell about my mother. She was an amazing woman, an awesome mom, even with her flaws, and a great friend. But mom didn't take any shit from us kids either. Mom was cool as can be when it came to punishments. Like, she would ground your ass for a month, and that would be that. And mom was from a little town called WhoopAKidsAss, and MAN could she get homesick! When I say she was cool about punishments, I mean COOL. Like, "WAIT! I can explain!!" and mom would let you explain, and fully plead your case. She would hear you out all the way, like nodding and acknowledging every word. Then she would simply ask "Are you done? Is that everything?", and when you said "yes", she would say "Ok, thank you for clearing that up"..
.......and then she would beat your ass ANYWAY! lol...
Never once, did I ever hear mom apologize for an ass-whooping. Not even when she found out she was wrong. She would look at you and say "You know that thing you did that I didn't catch you at? Well then, that spanking was for THAT". She had a couple of tools for discipline. A belt was always handy, and there was always one hanging around. One Christmas, we got these huge paddles with balls attached to them. You know the ones i'm talking about. The balls were lost within the first couple of weeks. Those paddles, though? They stayed around for YEARS! We would try to hide them, and mom would figure out they were missing and she'd get that ass until we confessed to where they were, and then she'd get them, and we would catch it for hiding them. Another tool, was mom's "pivot-foot". Like, she would hold on to your arm or wrist with one hand and spank you with the other, but one leg would be off the ground, so that as you tried to run from the paddle/belt she had a hold of you and you would just run in a circle. With that leg off of the ground, she would just spin in a circle and keep right on spanking. I remember when i got to be about 13-14 and going through puberty, I got in trouble for something or another, and mom took me back in my room, paddle in hand, and said "Drop your drawers". Well sir, I looked at my mom and said "I'm getting a bit too old for you to be seeing me without my pants on. You can spank me all day, but my pants are staying up". Mom looked at me a second and said, "Ya know what? You're right"......and she spanked me all day long, but my pants stayed up hahahaha....
Look, I want to be clear about something. We grew up in a time where kids learned to be respectful, and parents weren't afraid to beat your ass if you got out of line. Maybe we obeyed out of fear of an ass-whooping, but the important thing was, we obeyed, and frankly, my mother has ALWAYS been my best friends BECAUSE she raised us with discipline. More importantly, I deserved each and every spanking I ever received, and even some I never got!!! I'll explain in some other post, and when I do, I'll tell the story about how I only once, heard my mom, the most saintly, praying and G-d obeying woman I ever knew, use the "F" word, and how I am the one who made her do it lol......
Thanks Mom, for being such a wonderful mom and friend.
I love you
TO BE CONTINUED