Once upon a time. . .
I belonged to a band that played for thousands (or so it seemed). . .
No shit!
At the 1975 German/American Volksfest, the band, "Arkanstone,"
played for a HUGE audience.
I remember the night. . .
walking onto the stage. . . gazing out. . .

Walked on stage and gulped. . .
I wore a "puffy shirt". . .
Had filled my water bottle with J.D. & ice. . .
Never had played for such a large crowd before!
But muddled through. . .
even though the female singer couldn't. . .
she had near-terminal "stage fright"
plus... she had no sense of rhythm.
(In all fairness, we talked ourselves into using her.
She'd studied voice, could sing like an angel... opera.
She was good looking. We never auditioned her.)

http://www.impnow.com/Profiles/snuffyny/Audio/17878

Occasionaly you can hear her tamborine-playing. . .
It's all just History now.

Ron Romano on Lead Guitar
Matt Kraut, Vocals

-Fini

Often, truth can be found in a work of fiction.
For instance, there's this train of thought
from James Lee Burke in his novel, "Swan Peak."
________________ ____________________ _______________

"At a certain time in your life, you think about death in a serious
way, and you think about it often. You see your eyes and mouth
impacted by dirt, your clothes a moldy recepticle for water leaking
through the topsoil. You see a frozen mound backlit by a wintry sky,
a plain of brown grass with tumbleweeds bouncing across it. . .

. . . When you see these images in your sleep or experience them in
your waking day, you know they do not represent a negotiable fate.
The images are indeed your future, and no exception will be made
for you.

During these moments, when you try to push away these images
from the edge of your vision, you have one urge only, and that is to
somehow leave behind a gesture, a cipher carved on a rock, a good
deed, some visible scratch on history that will tell others you were here
and that you tried to make the world a better place.

The great joke is that any wisdom most of us acquire can seldom
be passed on to others. I suspect that this reality is at the heart of
most old people's anger."
________________ ____________________ ____________________ ___

I think these couple of paragraphs describe, exactly, our collective need
to be here, on this site.

What think you??

-Fini

I haven't been playing.
I think the band (The Midnight Blues) has come to
the end of it's being... at least in this iteration.

http://www.impnow.com/Profiles/snuffyny/Pics/20368

That's too bad.
I think we still have potential.
There are songs that Joey has written
and that I haven't posted here that could
have gone Top Forty... IMOHO.
Joey is now heavily involved with his business.
He owns a power-washing company.
He's working hard, chasing daylight.
He's a father now.
That salient fact makes a difference in his attitude.
Jamie is moving back to AZ, for keeps this time.
Johnny's gone... playing with other bands.
(He's a great guitar player but always considered
himself to be no more than a "hired gun.")
Rob now works at his day job earning a commission
vice being paid a salery, so he has to spend a lot
more time looking for income.
Me... I just flat have no energy.
I'm living with the beginnings of heart failure.
My one big question is, should I push myself
hard to make it through this lassitude
and hope the meds will help me make it
to the other side?

-Fini

ADDENDUM:
I found this recording in my sound files and uploaded it.
It's us, playing The Georgetown Saloon a couple
years back. If they still made 45's I'd put this on
the "A" side and "Down The Track" on the "B" side.

http://www.impnow.com/profiles/snuffyny/Audio/21393

I think it would be a hit... or am I full of it??

ADDENDUM II:
I think I was wrong about the band breaking up.
Here's The Midnight Blues (with Big Ed Heinz on drums,)
playing a new song from Joey, "A Man Like Me."
Good tune. . .

http://www.impnow.com/Profiles/snuffyny/Audio/21414

The world is as it is.
People are what they are.
True change (in attitude) is voluntary.
Long-held beliefs are difficult to put aside.
Truth is malleable.
How one views the world depends on where one stands.

None of these observations is new.

Why is it we continue to fight over which end of the egg
is to be cracked opened first??


- Fini

PS:
It's 10 PM and I've had a few glasses of wine.
Good Night Moon.

Another quiet Sunday.
Nothing much to write about...
Finally potted my annuals yesterday.
Been lazy about doing that this year... it's been too darned hot.
Now, if the squirrels will leave the flower boxes alone,
all will be fine.

One daughter and her family are on vacation.
We're minding her two dogs.
It's no problem... just takes getting used to having
four-legged alarms that tend to go off unexpectedly,
day or night.

Cheers!

-Fini


ADDENDUM :
I suppose it happens to everyone of a certain age...
memories, which have been collected and stored in the
haphazard way used by the brain, are involuntarily recalled via
random, serendipitous events.
So it is with this:
One of my daughter's dogs requires daily dosing with
rather large pills. The animal refuses to swallow them.
The method used to fool the dog is to wrap the pills
in a piece of bologna and administer same.
It works very well. The dog gulps them down, happily.
The memory string being plucked here is "bologna."
I don't normally have it in the house.
I don't like it much at all.
BUT... bologna does takes me way back to my time at
Sacred Heart Elementary School in Camden, NJ.
On days when I didn't bring my own lunch with me,
I was forced to eat the school-provided lunch that was
served in the church basement. This lunch was normally
bologna sandwiches and chicken-noodle soup and milk.
I had no problem with the soup and milk part...
but the bologna sandwiches...
the bologna was sliced, with a knife, into 1/4 inch thick slabs,
slathered in yellow mustard, then slapped between two
pieces of Wonder Bread.
I haven't cared for bologna or yellow mustard since.
(All this for a dime too.)

Other than these "lunchtime memories," I recall, fondly,
my time at Sacred Heart. I credit the Dominican nuns who
taught there with teaching me all I ever needed to know
to get on in life. When asked about my level of education,
I often reply with, "Eighth grade."

Again... Fini

MORE:
Just found this on line:
Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church.
To the right rear of the church is the rectory.
Behind that is what was the nun's convent.
To the left rear is the school. It's that rectangular building seen directly
behind the church, parallel with the street.

http://www.cityinvincible.com/images/sacred_heart_sepia.jpg

The street, to the left in this picture, was blocked at both ends during
recess and lunch, to be used as a play ground for students.
The church basement cafeteria was entered from this street also.
Blocking the street wasn't exactly legal... but every time the police came around,
the Mother Superior, Sister Grace-Electra, would shoo them away. She'd taught
most of them, or their parents, in this very same school.
Seems she remembered them all and she was a force to be reckoned with.

Another thought:
It was here, at the annual talent show, that I first became interested in drums.
A student in my class, Walter Church, played the field snare.
He'd learned by playing with a local drum and bugle corps.
What he did with the sticks fascinated me.

Another 98+ degree day.
Another day spent inside.

Today is Ringo Starr's 70th birthday.
I never much cared for him as a drummer.
When the Beatles first appeared on the American stage,
me and a thousand other drummers were instantly
jealous and put out... we were all better drummers,
doncha know.
We learned... talent has nothing much to do with pop music.

The first time I heard of the Beatles was in 1962.
It was on The Tonight Show with Jack Paar.
I was dating a girl named Linda.
This one Friday night we came home, to her house, after seeing
a movie and found her parents were awake, watching TV... The Tonight Show.
Paar liked to sometimes show his home movies on air.
That night he was showing movies of his recent family vacation in England.
One segment shown was of this POPULAR band called, "The Beatles."
Comments were made about the length of their shaggy hair,
their "Mod" clothes and their music.
After watching awhile, I opined (with my 15 years of life experience) that
they could NEVER make it here.
Oh, well...

-Fini

Independence Day!
... Wedding anniversary too.
Spent the day inside, in the air conditioning.
The temperature, on my back deck, at 2 P.M. was 98 degrees.
Can't handle that kinda heat anymore.

A Pet Peeve:
There's a new action movie coming out in a few days... "Predators."
The story line has several "most dangerous humans" transported to
the alien "Predator" planet for to be hunted as game.
They are equipped with the Earth's latest weapons.
One fellow humps around a six-barreled Vulcan type gun.
Do the dickheads in Hollywood ever pay attention to "FACTS??"
This gun fires at around 4000 rounds per minute.
Four thousand 7.62mm rounds would weigh in at 90 pounds.
What sane soldier is gonna hump 90 pounds for 1 minute of fire power??
(If the thing fires 5.56mm ammo then the weight would be reduced... but still prohibitive.)
Also, belt-fed weapons are always crew-served... extra hands to keep the ammo feeding the weapon correctly. Maintaining a high rate of fire is what's important
in the end.

I'm tired.

My step-son died on Tueday, the 2nd.
Getting ready for his black-belt test, at the dojo,
he dropped to the floor, dead.
He was 46 years old, married and the father of three.
The autopsy revealed cardiac arrest as the cause.
His own father died of a heart attack at the age of 45 and
my step-son worked hard to avoid the same fate.
He never smoked, he watched his diet, he exercised,
drank alcohol in moderation...
and yet, a heart attack felled him at age 46.

Seems that we cannot escape the will of fate.


Damn...
Just Damn.

R.I.P. Tommy.

-Fini

Been awhile.
My health is slowly improving.
My new defibrillator is also "pacing" my heart and the setting
for the time-span between upper and lower chamber squeeze was too long.
This allowed fluid to accumulate in my lungs... which would
wake me at 3 AM, or so... I'd be short of breath and panting.
Sitting upright for 15 minutes would correct the problem but
I'd have to spend the rest of the night sleeping in my recliner.
When I told the cardiologist about this, he had me come in for
a "tune-up."
He set up a laptop computer, then waved a wand over the implant until
the thing was "talking" to the computer, wirelessly.
Then he proceded to fine-tune the interval between chamber squeezes,
shortening the interval. I felt nothing... at the time.
On the way home I became ill... tingling in my left arm, weakness, a "zinging"
sensation throughout my left chest area and faintness.
It passed... and I've not been bothered since.

I'm getting stronger and looking forward to playing drums again.
As of now, all my instruments are packed away in cases or sitting
on shelves downstairs. The big deterrent to me playing is only the
process of unpacking and setting up.

Watched the Super Bowl yesterday.
The "right" team won... although my money was on the Colts.
(My money was on the Colts back in '69 too!)
Half-Time... "The Who" should've stayed home. I've heard better
renditions in the local bars. Can't believe they were paid big bucks
for that performance. (Should've been the other way around... them
paying to be heard again on TV.)

Oh well... guess I'm turning into a real curmudgeon.

-Fini

Christmas Eve.
Just want to wish everyone here
a Merry Christmas. . .
And a Happy New Year.

I'll be celebrating tomorrow with family. . .
children and grandchildren,
with everyone consuming a roast beef
and Yorkshire-pudding dinner.
Yum.

-Fini