a few beers, a few songs...good times

Got the chance to go see JD Edwards and Tom Savage play a little gig at the Manx.  It was a good night .  French discontinued his hooting and hollering, because I was filming, for this one song. Then he got right back to it.  We worked on this video together a bit.  The editing is a little rough...'effin run time errors.

I first met JD back at camp.  French, Sweaty, Pancake, and JD all loved fishing.  We had some old beat up canoes out on a pond.  We'd get out there quick after work and catch some bass 'til the sun set.

JD wasn't the best fisherman, but he can play guitar, sing and blow a mean harp. 

Here is the Clip:  JD and Tom - the Manx

Resurrection Suit

We dropped by the cottage to do a quick check: i.e. see if the beavers had felled trees, if the place had burned down, or been robbed (expectation management).  All was well; so we stopped into see Bruce and Rose Fish.

Bruce Fish had his usual stories to tell.  He'd found a whole garbage bag of suits: "still good".  We had a look, but we left them with him.  French snagged a tie.

French asked me to tell the story of how I once lost my brand new suit.  Bruce Fish hadn't heard this one, so I told them the story:

I went to my Grandfather's funeral in Edmonton.  He was in the hospital dying of cancer, and I slept in his vacant room.  He didn't make it, and we stayed on for the funeral.  On the day of the funeral my mom told me to get ready.  I couldn't find my suit anywhere.  I had to wear jeans and a rugby shirt to the church.  My mom was really mad.  My dad even told me off; which is really rare.

We walked by the open casket.  There was my grandfather looking pretty sharp in my new suit. 

My uncle had come home from the funeral home and gone through his closet. My suit was there and it looked new and also looked like it would fit him nicely.  He had lost a lot of weight and his frame was similar to my skinny 15 year old body. 

We were all chuckling at the crazy tale and Rose piped up: "You'll get it back."

We all looked at her...puzzled.

She continued: "at the resurrection."



Posted to: Imperfect Prose

Dump Therapy

Every winter the dump is closed.  This year Bruce Fish made some extra coin ploughing for the county, but the dump is his "real job"; as he often reminds us.  Each spring he has to clean the dump.  Even though it is closed people keep dumping all sorts of trash at the gates.  Bruce Fish comes in sometime in April and has to move all the winter debris into the ravine.  He'll go through it first and take out anything recyclable, refixable, resellable, or reartable (these are the names of his sorting piles).  The rest we tip.

This year there was tonnes; the locals had really outdone themselves.  French and I went up to help him.  As a teen I hated to handle this smelly mess, but French finds it very cathartic.  He grabs a bag and absolutely heaves it.  Then he'll grab something else and smash it to bits by whipping into a tree a the bottom of the pit.  Usually, he aims for something that will shatter, smash and make the biggest noise.

Every year this becomes a contest.  Who can throw the furthest? Or who can lift the biggest piece of junk and chuck it down the pit?  French always wins.  He usually waits to the final round and lobs a dryer or other big appliance with a huge stream of curses.  It took all three of us to hurl an ancient freezer chest into the depths.

By the end we are all sweat matted and totally spent.  Rose came by shaking her head at us "crazy men".  Bruce Fish thanked us with a few icy lagers.  A fine day of dump therapy.

Graven at the Elmdale Tavern

This is a little video that French and I made.  The Graven boys had a little show down at the Elmdale Tavern.  French's girlfriend bought him a Flip cam.  It is a little HD video camera the size of a cell phone.  I have a black one.  French's is pink.  Pancake was riding French all night about that one. 

Things didn't go south; even with all the cracks about the pink cam.  French was enjoying the tasty Beau's Beer that was on tap.  That does help to keep one's spirits up.  We shot a bit of footage and we hammered it out during lunch.  Bit of quick edit, but the gig was just last night - check 'er out.

French has missed a few of Graven's local gigs; so I'm glad he caught the show.

Rum and Coke

I'm just coming off a nice March break.  Maybe a little too nice.  It is hard to get around the garage...too many empties.  Beau's Beer came out with a delicious seasonal called Beaver River I.P. eh.  That tasty India Pale Ale accounts for some of the empties.  Nowadays I have to keep myself in check when I'm having a few cold ones. Back in my more party oriented days we had a signal that we had imbibed too many.  When rum and cokes came in to play we agreed to pack it in.

If someone started drinking this mix we just knew something bad was about to happen.  Rum and cokes for us equalled:  broken noses, and broken hearts.   Once French made out with Mean Dean's girlfriend at a party.  I came upstairs and saw French and a girl called Buffy-Jo really going at it.  All the while French was drinking and spilling a rum and coke.

I had to head Mean Dean off at the stairs and and then I sent Buffy-Jo one way and then stumble walked French the other way; back to his shed.  A fight between these two heavy hitters would have wrecked the whole house

Bloody rum and coke.  It was always like that.  Pancake came up with the rule.  It was a good rule and I'm sure it kept us outta trouble. 

Then again, pretty much every night back then ended with Pancake buying a whole tray: "one for each of  yahs and couple more for the ladies."

Of Short Hauls and Long

I was asked recently if I'd ever lived an adventure?  Who hasn't eh?  Taking a couple of rides with Pancake's dad in his rig comes pretty close.

Sometimes Pancake would have a "tricky back".  He'd limp around holding his lower back and screwing up his face. His back would get real tricky if his father asked him to come along on a haul.  I'd get to replace him; for me it was a treat.  Pancake's dad would swing by in his rig, hold his box of cassettes out the window and ask me if I could help him make a delivery.

Pancake's dad did a few little short hauls of food, but he also did some longer trips as well. 

The short hauls were fun because he new everybody.  You'd meet some real characters at 3 am in a grocery story loading bay.  Once we pulled up and four guys were singing "we are the walrus you are the egg man koo koo ka choo".  They sang it over and over again as they unloaded eggs.  One guy was singing it through the store's PA system.  They sang that every night when the actual egg man pulled up. 

The best part was the challenge.  Pancake's dad would challenge me to play any song and he meant any song, and he would name it and give you the artist to boot.  Bruce Fish would try to help.  He found this case in the dump and gave it to me for a trip down to Toronto. 

I'd bring my tape case as well.  We once drove to Sudbury and back and he got 174 in a row.  I'd be amazed, but he said  "it is no trick, just 25 years a driving truck".

Skipping School With Pink Floyd

Lotta talk about skipping, and ditching at school these days.  Whadya do with 'em?  Why do kids skip?  What gives?  Kids are changing.  Teens are different today..the usual staffroom banter.

French and I laugh it off.  We once skipped due to Pink Floyd.  Try writing that down as an excuse.

We were standing around at lunch once when I was in grade 10; and I made a pretty dumbass, or at least naive comment.  The lads were talking about Pink Floyd the Wall.  I said: "who is Pink Floyd?  (At that point I was into Skid Row, Whitesnake, Cinderella et al. )  French scowled at me and said "you better be kidding".  I thought Sweaty was gonna smack me.  I wasn't just playing dumb.  The only classic rock I listened to was Led Zeppelin. 

French insisted that we ditch school and remedy this travesty.  Sweaty came along; he kept trying to kick me in the ass on the walk to French's shed.

He got out his box of tapes and pulled out a double cassette.  It was really beat up.  French slid it into his ghetto blaster and cranked it.  We listened to the whole album.  Then he made me listen to it again; just to be sure my lesson stuck.

Great album, and it sure beat the hell outta Math and Geography.