Another passing...this circle of life thing is a bear sometimes. The Beastie Boys were a constant in my college days, and have always been one of those generational touchstones - I mentioned them a little while ago in a post about rap, and they were the subject of an initial blog post I wrote that unleashed a daily torrent for several years. I'm posting it again, because it is a favorite, and the emotions they inspired continue to this day.
beastie love
Right, so I get home last night in time to catch the last 45 minutes
or so of the SNL 25th anniversary show. I mention this mostly because it
turned out to be perfect timing - I missed the gratuitous Belushi
salute, which it turns out was accompanied by a lot of Bill Murray (he
usually doesn't get much play at these sort of events).At least that's
what they tell me this morning here in cubicleland. Now, don't get me
wrong, I dig both comedians, and their shtick. Especially in eighth
grade, as the only female member of the audio-visual staff at Canyon
Park Jr. High (oooh, the truth rears it's ugly head...) when being able
to recite the latest episode of SNL verbatim put you on the fast track
to cool.
However, over the years I get tired of seeing the same
clips trotted out. So I was happy to have missed that, and quite
thrilled to catch young David Spade choke on his "tribute" to Chris
Farley. A disclaimer: I can't watch Spade without remembering a piece of
gossip I picked up from a hippie who owned a recording studio in
Grant's Pass Oregon. The hippie claims to have worked with Spade in a
bong-building enterprise in Northern California. Now, this is pure
gossip, but one look at that whiny little burner-monkey and it doesn't
take much imagination to picture him gluing stems on pvc pipe.
Oh,
wait. Before I get too carried away, let me get to the real reason I
was stoked to have landed at the SNL show at all - the Beastie Boys
backing Elvis Costello on "Radio, Radio". It was great on so many
levels. First and foremost, because the Beasties were playing
instruments. And I, for one, am of the, uh, demographic that was around
for "Pollywog Stew" and all that early, really horrible punkrock noise
they made. I love them for that stuff as much as I love "Paul's
Boutique". Last night though, watching them fully dig playing (it was
clearly evident that they were digging it. HRH Elvis didn't seem to be
digging it quite as much, but still played hard, which was all that
needed to happen)provided a couple minutes of joy for me. I really found
it almost exciting to watch them not be the Mac Daddy Beasties but to
be a band. To not be dressed in costumes, to be playing with some
passion, instead of performing "the gig". It was punk rock. I mean that
in the purest, non-commercial way too. Yes, I realize it's on national
t.v. and all that, but I'm talking about the spirit, the passion, of
playing live even though you're not the most gifted musician in the
world. I love that.
12:40:47 - 1999-09-27
Friday, May 04, 2012
Thursday, May 03, 2012
life, the universe, and everything.
Karen and I met in 5th grade - we were ten. Both of us had just moved to this little podunk town in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, north of LA and west of the Mojave desert and Palmdale. We were geeky, wore glasses, and hit it off immediately, even though we lived at opposite ends of a rural valley that translated into a 40 minute school bus ride. Hanging out at her house after school was amazing, because both of her parents worked, and not only did it mean that I would ride the school bus to the very end of the route (her house was the second to last stop) and get to hear our very odd bus driver (Clifford, his name was Clifford) do his impression of an old time radio announcers (he would do the intro of the Lone Ranger and stuff, it was so great) over the bus speaker, but we'd arrive at their house, which her parents had designed and had built (something I had never seen done before - I have a crazy recollection of crawling around in the crawlspace underneath the house before they put the insulation in, and running around through walls that were only framed out). Karen's mom; Liz, worked in a lab. She was a scientist. In a lab. It didn't hit until later how unique it really was, but it certainly made an impression. In fifth grade, when we did our science projects, Liz brought clean Petri dishes home, and Karen and I dosed them with various liquids and stuff and then tracked the growth. I remember going to the house every day and racing to their kitchen to check on our progress. Plus, since Karen and I were such responsible kids (she has an older brother, who was a teenager and rarely around, and a younger sister; who, like my middle brother, was busy setting fire to the surrounding area with discarded cigarettes and shoplifting) we were allowed to be at Home Alone. Karen's Mom trusted her. Not that my mother didn't, but, my mom was at home. To drive us to the hospital, or animal shelter, or whatever was needed given the situation. But going over to Karen's was such a treat. They had a piano. Horses. A back 40 that was yet to be discovered, full of poison oak and manzanita, and, yes, baby rabbits.
The Saltwater Taffy Debacle (wherein we made saltwater taffy with no real idea of temperature or plan for storage. hilarity ensued, unless you were her mom, who cam home to find shards of green "taffy" all over the place). The Day Karen Built a Harness For The Baby Rabbit and we took it for a walk. The Investigation of The House That Had Burned Down. The Secret Bookcases Storage System Next to Our Desks. The Comic Strips she drew and I wrote, the creation of Fuzzies, and the entire construction paper and cardboard city we built in the multi-purpose room during the MGM program where they herded the "gifted kids" once a week at a central location. We had a connection and a way of communicating even then, that was so immediate, so natural. I had no idea it would last 35 years, and am thankful every day that it did. My family moved away to Seattle when I was 13, so our actual bonding time was only three years, but it was a crucial time in any kid's life, that time when you start sorting out what you think, what you are interested in, how to navigate the world around you - and when you are a sensitive, creative, loner with a family that isn't especially emotional (we shared that as well) finding someone who you can talk to, share secrets with and laugh with is so important.
We were housemates in college, which I probably wouldn't have even bothered with (as my parents weren't pushing it) but she encouraged me to apply, and blammo, there I was, a journalism student at Humboldt State University. Had a radio show. We rode horses on the beaches of Arcata, and I wond my punk rock wings in Agent 86. Karen left, in a mess of romantic chaos and professional indecision, but we remained close, always writing, calling, always communicating. Much angst, much laughter. We criss-crossed the country, and always touched base about our family. Her mom, the professional, the constant, the breadwinner in her family. It registered, even if I hadn't noticed it at the time. Over so many years, and seeing her mom and family much more in the years I lived in Fresno, it became very much a surrogate family for me. And by that I mean, I came to understand their dysfunction, and much as my own family's. But it was ok, because, once again, as we move through this period of our lives, it only brings Karen and I closer. She is the most constant thing in my life, and through good and bad (yep, there's been bad) we have withstood all challenges. My life without her - I can't even imagine. So, it was with much sorrow that she told me her mom, Liz, died on Monday morning. It's a strange thing when constants from your life start vanishing.
Especially lately, when I was away from my family, Karen's Mom and brother (and for a while stepdad) stood in - they always included me in family gatherings (even if i couldn't make it 'cause of work) and her mom of course was part of our daily conversations when i lived with Karen. I can't state enough though, how much Liz influenced me as far as a woman who had a job outside the home. My mom was like her in other ways (not a dress wearer, an outdoor worker and gardener, not afraid to get in with the animals, all of that) but there was this thing about Liz, a distance that she held, a sort of bearing that she had, that might have been a call back to her South Carolina roots, or the fact that she attended a formal university in the early fifties, but there was a carriage about her, a poise that I will always remember. Sure i also know her faults given my closeness to Karen, but overall, Liz was a woman who encouraged her girls to explore, to develop, to try things and to be strong and smart, and for that, I will always remember her.
Also for her affection for sun images, yellow, and bees. But more about that later. Good luck Liz, hope our paths cross again.
The Saltwater Taffy Debacle (wherein we made saltwater taffy with no real idea of temperature or plan for storage. hilarity ensued, unless you were her mom, who cam home to find shards of green "taffy" all over the place). The Day Karen Built a Harness For The Baby Rabbit and we took it for a walk. The Investigation of The House That Had Burned Down. The Secret Bookcases Storage System Next to Our Desks. The Comic Strips she drew and I wrote, the creation of Fuzzies, and the entire construction paper and cardboard city we built in the multi-purpose room during the MGM program where they herded the "gifted kids" once a week at a central location. We had a connection and a way of communicating even then, that was so immediate, so natural. I had no idea it would last 35 years, and am thankful every day that it did. My family moved away to Seattle when I was 13, so our actual bonding time was only three years, but it was a crucial time in any kid's life, that time when you start sorting out what you think, what you are interested in, how to navigate the world around you - and when you are a sensitive, creative, loner with a family that isn't especially emotional (we shared that as well) finding someone who you can talk to, share secrets with and laugh with is so important.
We were housemates in college, which I probably wouldn't have even bothered with (as my parents weren't pushing it) but she encouraged me to apply, and blammo, there I was, a journalism student at Humboldt State University. Had a radio show. We rode horses on the beaches of Arcata, and I wond my punk rock wings in Agent 86. Karen left, in a mess of romantic chaos and professional indecision, but we remained close, always writing, calling, always communicating. Much angst, much laughter. We criss-crossed the country, and always touched base about our family. Her mom, the professional, the constant, the breadwinner in her family. It registered, even if I hadn't noticed it at the time. Over so many years, and seeing her mom and family much more in the years I lived in Fresno, it became very much a surrogate family for me. And by that I mean, I came to understand their dysfunction, and much as my own family's. But it was ok, because, once again, as we move through this period of our lives, it only brings Karen and I closer. She is the most constant thing in my life, and through good and bad (yep, there's been bad) we have withstood all challenges. My life without her - I can't even imagine. So, it was with much sorrow that she told me her mom, Liz, died on Monday morning. It's a strange thing when constants from your life start vanishing.
Especially lately, when I was away from my family, Karen's Mom and brother (and for a while stepdad) stood in - they always included me in family gatherings (even if i couldn't make it 'cause of work) and her mom of course was part of our daily conversations when i lived with Karen. I can't state enough though, how much Liz influenced me as far as a woman who had a job outside the home. My mom was like her in other ways (not a dress wearer, an outdoor worker and gardener, not afraid to get in with the animals, all of that) but there was this thing about Liz, a distance that she held, a sort of bearing that she had, that might have been a call back to her South Carolina roots, or the fact that she attended a formal university in the early fifties, but there was a carriage about her, a poise that I will always remember. Sure i also know her faults given my closeness to Karen, but overall, Liz was a woman who encouraged her girls to explore, to develop, to try things and to be strong and smart, and for that, I will always remember her.
Also for her affection for sun images, yellow, and bees. But more about that later. Good luck Liz, hope our paths cross again.
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