(To preview two more of this blog’s stories, check out the back pages of the current issue of the Hudson Star-Observer.)
So many deaths, in so little time, like a rock song that’s just a bit over two minutes. “Breaking the law,” coming in at 2:12, almost seems appropriate. (Are some just rugged or full-fledged rouges?)
A most recent one hit home locally, at Ziggy’s Hudson. The singer, Tim Sigler, a longtime country man front and center, and cowpoke poking hard on the guitar, also sang and strummed with poignancy and power, then gave a shoutout at the song’s end to the recently deceased Toby Keith, as he’d penned it in a like-minded way. Sorry to say, can Keith Richards, also on guitar, be far behind?!?
— With a few more newer people coming to many family holiday gatherings, I was a bit more eager about their (possibly changing up) warerobe choices — as in a kind of reversal? — than being stuck in a corner and thus trapped by an odd uncle with bad dad jokes, and OK that could be me. What I didn’t expect … Matron vs. possibly grand-matron vs. the brood, now young adults.
In my mind’s eye, I have long pictured a bright new Easter dress with great big colored polka-dots, worn by one of my model friends. But my niece, the night before, was noting the possible coming rain and weighing whether to be especially stylish, or more warm and safe and dry.
Not long before being on my way there, I saw medium-length from any nearby club, a mom and teenage daughter wearing all black, up and down, both in their dresses and clunky heals. Can you do that right before Easter? Would some fashion freaks take you to task for that ensemble, (or praise it)? I am left with this little fact, or opinion, that its truly hard to pull this off. Like white after Labor Day, like all this should matter, although one of the colors makes you super sweat if prompted by heat.
But then what was seen at Christmas and Easter: Some, and not always predictably, were dressed as traditionally fit for the upcoming Mother’s Day, others more bold in say the height of hem, as per New Year’s Eve.
That’s what was noted about others even at church, high rising at sunrise service, along with shoes that were stable and a staple, but still stunning. Simply put, skin was often put on display from just above the ankle — at times and also shown as brown mini-boots — to mid-thigh. Many more skinny and strappy shoes also were seen. And sometimes comfort and being demure and traditonal was in vogue, and the slipper-like shoes still fluffy and long pants thick, with the end result becoming degrees of, being noticeable, or blending in. Do you choose a buckle, or big bow (most of the time), or small or none at all? And how many layers of your clothing will you select? Most of them I spied, if there’s a trend here, showed long, unbroken stretches of similar one-toned fabric, which could be an earth tone, not always colorful or even pastel, like colored eggs are.
I just noticed that I have not said a thing about a blouse style. And I saw few hats, virtually no veils and no gloves.
But in summary, with people I was around, many wore what wasn’t what you’d think. At times the typically two this way and two that was flipped, how far was individually, from their normally featured, brave vs. more bland. —
The tabloids are raking on the alleged soon-to-be-demise of Bruce Willis. Again, not to rake, but a friend who used to pour coffee at a California shop he frequented in his Die Hard days, said that unlike most, he was a hey, look-at-me snob when not natilly attired. (If you visit that caffeine dispenser, maybe better site Serge instead, more of a friend.) Also we as such reference the long-ailing Phil Collins, who was in earlier and healthier days, known to have been, non-invited apparently, the jump-in drummer in an old Stairway To Heaven combo live-lineup, maybe for a last-Bruce-Willis-movie soundtrack? A driver friend says he is not up in the air about it, but has as the only rockin’ out song he can tolerate and indeed love, In The Air Tonight. Collins has said live he didn’t like to be pigeonholed by that tune — which always resonated with me when the big and booming bass drums finally came in — but don’t tell your limo purveyor that.
Then we go back to the turn of the year, and the death of one of the Smothers Bros. The mainstay behind the drug store counter, who has a somewhat retired brother himself, who is another Bruce by name, has had his own spin: Hey he’s not here anymore, but do I want to “smother” him? Hmm. Central is that one brother, more than the other, is as irreverant as you can get with his humor. I was going to ask him about the alleged evil act, with said brother, the last time I was in the drugstore — for my favorite soda, cherry red, with Mr. Jimmy, and wait that was across the river — but hey, I was told the Hudson Bruce was in the store yesterday. And will be tomorrow also, so rose from the dead?
On such themes, a new friend issues frequent citations for his killer band Amigo the Devil, with song after song of lyrics that are thusly as deliciously irreverant, on touchy topics, though a group small in number with its songwriters. God may not get you for (listening to) that, but Satan will. And speed your death (theme of this post) and take you to hell, their ultimate stage. And with an area concert acoming, we’ll both be there. Bluegrass-type stuff with extreme edge.
When I interviewed a very bright high school student up for honors, she also made a favorable reference, to the irreverent but acclaimed band the Dead Kennedys. But as a writer, censor yourself on that one, she requested. The elders might not get the rub.
George from Seinfeld is not dead, as one of my fave bartenders Chad noted when seeing my wallet burgeoning with old receipts, much more than money. Want to buy beer in a 30 pack? It looks like you have enough receipts for that many single sales?
Also, back to real death, O.J. has ran out of juice. Right after my mom saw a classic bumper sticker about him and his follow, chiming in with words that number two dozen. That’s more than half of those seen in that crazily slow Bronco chase at slow speed. A friend from Trinidad said that her World Cup soccer that was pre-empted would be far more interesting. But for quality entertainment, see his humorous bits in the Naked Gun movies. But, was he merely a foil for Leslie Nielsen or a feature in himself.
But to an earlier death I missed, (was it because of a deep fake?), deep as the waters that still house the Edmond Fitzgerald, a song that was a wreck that I’d long loved for its rich tones and touching but quaint folkish lyrics. This tale of many a dead seaman, laid to rest when Lightfoot died about a year ago, was especially popular with me because this disaster occurred basically in my backyard, the rough lakes above the Upper Peninsula, which was not firm enough as a land appendage to save. I used to sing along to the car radio, in a big old beater with astro-turf for seats, both front and back, but not in the shower, as this is like folk and not loud enough to be heard over running water. Lightfoot was a native Canadian, which maybe explained why he was nominated, merely, for five Grammies, but actually won 17 Juno awards, those given in the next country up. What, something other than heavy metal gets snubbed? This could be the story of Jethro Tull, falling in reverse. But sorry to end this tome on tunes, not afoot on a Lighter note.