In 1976, I spent part of my fifth summer alive on this earth in the panhandle of Texas at a place our family called “The Grove.” The Grove was appropriately named because it was a grove of shade trees my grandparents family owned out in the middle of a section of flat land where the horizon never ends. Cattle territory in the panhandle of Texas, specifically the small community of Darrouzett located in Lipscomb County. We held many family reunions under the shade of those Dogwoods and Oaks including the summer of 1976. Smells of grilled burgers and steaks and hot dogs floated through the dry, warm, Texas air in those days. There were footballs thrown and horseshoes tossed around like stories from the old timers. Lots of jeans and cowboy hats were the fashion and a lot of us kids that year got our own celebratory bicentennial red, white, and blue t-shirts to wear for our country’s 200-year anniversary.
I didn’t really understand the significance, the importance, or really even care. I was only five, remember?!? Nor did I understand the historical significance or importance of the day of the people I was surrounded by at the reunion. Grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins were there, some of whom I would never see again. The picture below shows 40 something people in attendance when the photograph was taken, but for a five-year-old, it felt like there were a hundred people there, a new face with a new story around every picnic table and grill. Like most family reunions, it was filled with the same stories and the same laughter at the same punchlines. Stories handed down from one generation to the next to preserve and pass on to the next.
1976 Duke family reunion at “The Grove.” Yours truly front row wearing my special bicentennial t-shirt.
Fast forward 50 years, and America 250 has passed us by like a sparkler in the night. I didn’t spend it at “The Grove” this year. No, there was no family reunion to attend this year. There have been many reunions since the photo was taken, but life happens and many of the people frozen in time in the photo above have passed on leaving us the memories to cling to. No, this year I did something different, but something as American as American gets.
Moving.
I didn’t move. My wife and I still occupy the same house we’ve owned since 2004. Instead, my wife’s youngest sister and her husband bought a slice of the American dream – a nice house and some picturesque acreage out in the Oklahoma countryside – about 400 miles directly south of the center of the lower 48 states (Lebanon, Kansas), and several miles from the nearest Oklahoma town.
You can see the scenic Arbuckle Mountains rising some 1,400 feet on the horizon about 30 miles due south from their new front porch. And about a football field to the east, you can just imagine hearing the rushing water of the creek running down their property line when the rainy season of Oklahoma comes calling in April/May and then again in September/October. They have chickens, a little less than they originally inherited due to a recent visit most likely from a hungry coyote. There will be sheep coming, not the wooly kind, which is the only kind I was familiar with. A type of “hair sheep” instead that grow short coats of hair that fall out in the spring. There will be vegetables to garden, flowers and trees to plant, grass to mow, hay to bale, chairs to rock, and plenty of sunsets to watch.
Just slide behind the wheel. How does it feel? When there’s no destination that’s too far? And somewhere on the way you might find out who you are, woo!
Moving: My nephew and I. Two handsome men and a truck.
I’ll say it again. There is nothing more American than moving. We’re a nation of movers. Our ancestors moved across oceans and boundaries. We move from cities and towns. We move jobs. We move schools and churches and houses. We move. And not just ourselves. We move our parents, our children, our neighbors, our friends, and our family. And we help people move, not because it’s anyone’s favorite activity, but because the only thing worse than moving is moving alone. So we join in and we pack and unpack boxes and move furniture. We lift and we bend, muscles ache and backs become sore. We make messes and we clean messes. We laugh and we sweat and we swear and we sweat some more, and then we do it all again the next day. But most of all, we create memories with our family and shake our heads at the collective craziness of it all.
I can’t tell you where I’ve spent half of my 4th of July’s, but I’ll always have the bicentennial in the Texas panhandle, and I’ll always have 250 in middle America joining forces with my wife, another sister-in-law, her daughter, and my nephew and his girlfriend all helping to move my sister-in-law and her husband. Moving them from a house in a crowded city subdivision they’ve occupied nearly 17 years with cars lined down streets and your neighbor’s house just feet away out into the wide-open space of the Oklahoma countryside.
And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
You may not be lookin’ for the promised land But you might find it anyway
One man that could move in all kinds of ways was the one and only “Godfather of Soul,” James Joseph Brown, born in Barnwell, South Carolina in 1933. By the time one of the most patriotic sports’ movies of all-time was released in 1985, James Brown was 52, old and washed up by music standards, and he hadn’t had a top 40 U.S. Billboard hit since 11 years earlier in 1974.
“Living in America” would be Brown’s last big hit even though he would score several hits on the R&B charts through the end of the 80’s. Written by Dan Hartman (“I Can Dream About You”), and Charlie Midnight, the song would score Brown a Grammy award in 1987 for best R&B male vocal. Here is the video with footage from the movie “Rocky IV,” James Brown and “Living in America”…
Thanks for stopping by and a happy 250th to you and to the greatest nation in the world.
In the immortal words of James Brown – I feel good!
“Hey I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.” – The Proclaimers
haver (verb) (SCOTTISH ENGLISH): talk foolishly; babble: “My posts occasionally haver on this website.”
My buddy Joe recently texted me a short video clip of Scotland soccer fans enjoying their stay in Boston as part of the 2026 World Cup featuring 48 different nations participating in matches across the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. I’ve since seen many other clips of the fans from many countries enjoying U.S. restaurants, gas stations, area parks and shops and even a group of Scottish fans occupying a large portion of a section in the venerable Fenway Park for a Boston Red Sox baseball game. They were dancing and singing, wearing kilts, chanting and waving flags and scarves and signs everywhere they went.
In several clips the Scottish fans were singing along to the fun and addictive Proclaimers song “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”
Da lat da (Da lat da), da lat da (Da lat da) Da-da-da dun-diddle un-diddle un-diddle uh da-da
In the summer of 1993, I found myself in the backseat of my buddy Bryndon’s car with another one of my best friends, Joe, riding in the front seat. We were on a short one-hour road trip to Stillwater, Oklahoma, Bryndon’s hometown, the Oklahoma State University campus, and also home to the world-famous bar and restaurant, Eskimo Joe’s.
Eskimo Joe’s opened in July1975 by grade school friends Steve File and Stan Clark. Their legendary t-shirts featuring Eskimo Joe and his dog Buffy were immediately popular and sold well from day one. At one point, Eskimo Joe’s t-shirts trailed only Hardrock Cafe for the most popular t-shirts in the world.
Also, along the way, their annual weekend birthday bash grew enormously larger and larger every year to overflowing crowds that spilled outside the establishment onto Elm Avenue. By the time their 16th anniversary rolled around in 1991, there was an estimated 65,000 in attendance that weekend (the photo below is from their website of that particular weekend). Their upcoming 51st anniversary celebration is just a few weeks away as of this post.
By sheer happenstance, I was just a small tyke living in Stillwater in 1975 when “Stillwater’s Jumpin’ Little Juke Joint!” opened their doors. My dad was the basketball coach at Stillwater High School, and my mom was a real estate agent from 1973-1978 when we resided in Stillwater. And in addition to their t-shirts, the Eskimo Joe’s cups are often viewed as collector’s items, and also served as “fine China” for my wife and I for many years after we were married.
Eskimo Joe’s has expanded and changed through the years as seen from this recent photo featured on their website.
If I get drunk, well, I know I’m gonna be I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
It was the annual birthday bash, aka “Joe’s Weekend” of 1993 that had the three of us together in Bryndon’s car headed north on highway 177. I don’t recall the conversations or the plans we were making, but I know we were three friends on our way to a weekend full of possibility. There were friends to reconnect with, strangers to meet, and memories to be made.
Many of those memories have faded into hazy recollections and reside only within the physical photos I still possess from the camera I carried with me that weekend. But I’m also left with the memory which began during that drive when today’s featured song popped up on the radio. What ensued was a full out sing-along with our newly favorite Scottish twins providing the musical backdrop, Joe and I trading off “Da lat da’s” at full volume as we rolled down the highway.
It’s during these unplanned, unexpected moments when music and time converge perfectly to a form a lasting image, a memory forever tucked away into the recesses of the human brain resting there until that particular song comes on and rescues us again to a favorite time and place.
It may have been several decades ago, but it doesn’t feel that way when I hear the unmistakable voices of twins Craig and Charlie Reid. Their faces, forever frozen for me in 1993, as their most famous song eases any worries, lifts my spirit and dances for three and a half minutes within the core of my soul.
And after all, if you don’t have friends who will sing at the top of their lungs along with you on a road trip, then do you really have any friends at all?
But I would walk five hundred miles And I would walk five hundred more Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles To fall down at your door
Born in Edinburgh, Scotland, Craig and Charlie Reid formed their group The Proclaimers in 1983. First released in 1988 as the lead single from their “Sunshine on Leith” album, the song reached #11 in the UK while topping charts in Australia, Iceland, and New Zealand.
Though released in ’88, the song didn’t reach American ears and prominence until it was featured on the soundtrack to the 1993 romantic comedy movie “Benny & Joon” starring Johnny Depp and Mary Stuart Masterson. Afterwards, the song soared to #3 on the U.S. charts in August while also inspiring impromptu singalongs everywhere.
At the intersection of Scotland and Stillwater circa 1993, here are The Proclaimers with “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”…
I hope you have friends you’d walk 500 miles for even if you could afford a plane ticket instead (creds to Joe for the inspiration behind this line).
“Gonna get my baby one time, yeah, yeah” – Little Richard
Stacey King was a constant in my life in the late 80’s. He occupied two-hour chunks of my teenage years between 1985 and 1989. I probably saw him play somewhere between 50-60 games in person, and countless others on television during that time period. Two hundred hours? Three hundred? I’m not sure, but I don’t know that I saw any one player play more games in person than that of one Stacey King.
Thanks to my dad, who was an assistant coach at the University of Oklahoma at that time, I was there for Stacey’s four year run with the Sooners. I was there the first two seasons at OU where he struggled to gain playing time, at times looking overmatched on the floor as well as in the classroom when he was deemed academically ineligible the second semester of his sophomore season.
Stacey cleaned up things in the classroom and then he proceeded to mop up opponents on the basketball floor. I was there with front row seats for those magical final two seasons when Stacey King went from “not sure this kid’s going to make it” into a bonafide superstar All-American center for Coach Billy Tubbs and the Sooners. Along the way, the energetic, joyful King established himself as one of the most beloved Sooners of all-time. So when I heard that Stacey King passed away today at the age of 59, it had my brain spinning back to those days in Norman, Oklahoma. Spinning like many of the opponents who grew weary of the frenetic pace of Stacey King and the OU Sooners basketball program – a program that was the winningest men’s basketball program in the country the last half of the 80’s.
Stacey King and the Sooners were a must-see event those years. Sure, Los Angeles had the “Showtime Lakers,” but in college basketball, showtime was located in Norman, Oklahoma.
My parents framed poster of the OU Sooners 1988-89 basketball team featuring #33, Stacey King in the back left.
“It’s like a one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”
The left-handed 6’11” King hailed from Lawton, Oklahoma. My dad along with head coach Billy Tubbs and coaches Mike Anderson and Mike Mims helped recruit Stacey, which included picking the big guy up at his high school in a limo for the hour and fifteen-minute ride to Norman for a recruiting visit. King’s mother wanted Stacey to play elsewhere (Georgetown and John Thompson were rumored to be on the top of her list), and so when she found out Stacey had been picked up and taken to Norman that day, she proceeded to tell anyone who would listen that Stacey had been “kidnapped.” Well, after his precarious visit, King was returned safely back to Lawton High School. To hear Coach Anderson tell the tale, he was the lone coach “chosen” to return with Stacey to Lawton following his visit to Norman and the OU campus. Anderson didn’t take King to his house, instead opting to drop him back off at school with strict instructions to immediately check back in and call his mom and tell her he was back in town and that he was fine.
The incident faded into a memorable story and King became a Sooner where played in 114 games finishing with a 17.6 points per game scoring average as well as averaging 7.2 rebounds per game. His amazing final two seasons saw him average 22 and 26 points per game respectively while being recognized as an All-American and the Sporting News College Basketball Player of the Year in 1989.
He would go on to be drafted by the Chicago Bulls and spend eight seasons in the NBA with the Bulls, T-Wolves, Heat, Celtics, and Mavericks before retiring. He won three NBA championships with some guy named Michael Jordan (check out this great piece about King’s good luck routine and how it came to an end quickly once he was drafted and arrived in Chicago to be teammates with Michael Jordan). Eventually King would endear himself to a whole new generation of Bulls fans as a commentator for the Bulls from 2006-2026. “Gimme the hot sauce!”
But Stacey “Sky” King will forever be etched in my 16 year old brain in 1988… sprinting down the floor on another OU fastbreak, the Sooners barreling towards another 100 point game, King’s long strides outpacing his opponent giving the Sooners’ attack fastbreak numbers, his 33 jersey untucked and flapping behind him, hands at the ready… ready to receive a pass from Mookie Blaylock or Ricky Grace or Dave Sieger or Terrence Mullins, and then receiving that pass and hammering home another signature left landed dunk.
Fellow Oklahoman and All-American, (and left-hander) Wayman Tisdale may have laid the foundation which helped put OU basketball on the map in the early to mid-80s, but it was Stacey King and his band of high-flying Sooners who took the OU basketball program to new heights in the late 80’s. After all, what other collegiate basketball player had a self-proclaimed #1 music video in 1988?
Only Stacey King and his OU teammates!
I absolutely loved this video when it came out in 1988. Featuring Stacey and his teammates – Soul Man, Creator, T-Love, Amazing, Mookie, Stretch, The General, Art, and Hawk, here they are performing to the Little Richard version of the song “Kansas City,” in celebration of and shortly before King and his teammates headed to Kansas City for the 1988 Final Four.
Bye bye, and so long to the Heavenly-bound Stacey “Sky” King. Prayers up and out in covering the King family as well as to the extended family of OU Sooners everywhere.
You were one of the all-time greats, and you will be missed.
“Downtown the young ones are growing.” – Kim Wilde
I can’t tell you where I heard it or who said it, but I once heard that your 50’s is a decade of reflection – a time in life where you think about where you’ve been, how it went so fast, who has played a part in your journey and also where you’re headed next. Kim Wilde is 65 now, so maybe she’s past that phase, but regardless, her 1981 self will forever be etched within the fabric of 80’s pop music and as such deserves as much as anyone to be featured today. After all, in 1981, like Kim, I too was a kid in America singing along to today’s catchy tune.
Fast forward from 1981 and though just a youngster in my 40’s when I began this site, this blog began as a tribute with posts based upon a reflection, a memory, a time that meant something then, and might mean more or less now. I’ve veered into other decades of music and into anything that might trigger a spark of an idea for a post as the years have rolled by and I find myself in the middle of the decade of reflection. I’ll post a dedication to a person, cover a present day event, interview interesting people, tell stories I find interesting or funny, and even write posts that act in a cathartic way to release words that seem locked away in the recesses of my brain too difficult to release with my mouth and instead find their way through the only escape route available – through my fingertips.
Outside a new day is dawning Outside suburbia’s sprawling everywhere I don’t want to go, baby
A new day is always dawning, and it is truly hard to keep pace sometimes if you are one to attempt such a foolish idea. So instead of trying to keep up, slow down, absorb in what is important. Hang around those who feed your soul and lift you up. Have fun. Pray for your friends and family. Heed the words of Walt Whitman (or Ted Lasso if you prefer) – Be curious, not judgmental. Immerse yourself in the present with a view on the road ahead on what’s important, but occasionally check the rearview mirror and allow yourself to look fondly upon times in your past.
Because if you’re like me, you too remember that you were once a kid in America living for the music-go-round.
Before we get to today’s featured song and video though, I’ll leave you with some 80’s content. I’ve noticed a phenomenon that has dominated my social media feed. The nostalgia phenomenon. Facebook and Insta know me well by now. I’ve given up all hopes thinking I will use browsers that don’t track my history or VPNs that hide my whereabouts. That the killer robots will come for me last! No, now I don’t care if my cell phone tracks my every move or if Alexa is listening and taking note of my every word and action. I shrug, focus upwards and inwards, and just benignly accept whatever fate becomes of my internet footprint.
A.I. has made things more prevalent and has sped things up to a blurring pace. Case in point: just a few of the random AI generated images that have appeared to me over the past three or four days…
“We’re the kids in America (whoa) We’re the kids in America (whoa) Everybody live for the music-go-round”
Ironically, born and raised in a west suburb of London, today’s hit from 1981 was Kim Wilde’s debut single shortly after turning 20. Written by her dad and brother and reaching #2 in the UK, this song was just one of 17 UK Top 40 singles during the 80’s making Kim Wilde the most successful female solo act of the 80’s in the UK.
Covered by many artists through the years including Tiffany, Len, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, and Foo Fighters (on their 2015 EP “Songs From the Laundry Room,”) here is the original – Kim Wilde, still performing this song to this day, with the video filmed in L.A. for “Kids in America”…
If you’re wondering, here she is along with her brother Ricky (bald guy on guitar with the shades and gray whiskers) from 2024 with a live rendition before a massive crowd at a music festival in the UK…
For years I’ve tried to lure Baltimore Orioles into my backyard. Not Gunnar Henderson or Jackson Holliday in some childish fanboy plot to become best friends. No, the actual orange and black birds, Icterus Galbula. But for years, for whatever reason, these beauties have eluded my best laid schemes and plans.
I have a bright orange oriole feeder I bought probably six years ago designed to attract them (they are drawn to the color orange much like hummingbirds are drawn to the color red). I did once see a male oriole several years ago lurking by the orange feeder, which then led me to constantly day after day set out oranges and jelly only to be disappointed day after day. Last weekend I saw the old oriole feeder gathering dust in the shed with some of my other feeders, but I shut the door and just left it in there not wanting to go to the trouble of being disappointed again. On Monday however, I was at one of my favorite local stores – Wild Birds Unlimited, buying seed for, you know, the birds that actually appreciate me and like visiting my backyard. Props to you cardinals and blue jays and finches and chickadees and tits and woodpeckers and the like! Anyway, one of the young workers who was politely chatting me up said “you know, people are seeing a lot of orioles around here this spring.” I nodded and smiled politely while thinking, “other people, not me, bucko.”
Now for you non-birders, orioles typically spend our North American winter months lying on the Central and South American beaches, surfing the cool ocean breezes, and discussing the latest disappointing Baltimore Orioles season. I’m just guessing. They begin their journey back north into the U.S. just in time for baseball spring training and begin showing up in Arkansas in mid-April. Some stay a few days to refuel before heading further north, and some just stay. Many will spend the summer months in Arkansas where it is considered a suitable breeding ground and a high ranking place amongst orioles to raise an oriole family (I’m guessing again) before departing back south in the later part of the summer.
Anyway, when I got home Monday evening after work I thought again about what I heard at the store. And as the Big Man up above kindly does, he nudged me to go outside, get the old oriole feeder out of the shed, clean it off, and load it with some oriole-approved, non high fructose corn syrup jelly. (Sidebar: hey, don’t give the orioles high fructose corn syrup jelly, but by golly if you want slop a ton of the high fructose kind on your large PB&J (which ironically I did this afternoon), then go for it! This is where I would insert that wide eyes emoji if I cared to figure out how to do it). So I got it out of the shed, cleaned it off, put some jelly in the cup, hung it up, and then went to bed.
Like a kid on Christmas morning hoping for packs and packs of smokes… kidding… packs and packs of baseball cards, my first action Tuesday morning was to look out the window. Well, needless to say, five days later (as of this writing), there have been times I have seen five or six orioles out on the feeder at once – males, females, young males, young females, they’re all “ready for this jelly.”
They have been here everyday since Tuesday and I am constantly looking out the window like I’m Jimmy Stewart housed up in a wheelchair. I’m sitting by our rear window as I write this post watching and listening. Listening for their tunes and their now familiar “chatter.” Hey batter batter, swing batter! Let’s go boys. Let’s turn two! I’m fascinated and enjoy hearing their noises and watching their actions. They’ll hang upside down. They fight over food. They are very aware and scatter at the slightest movement by me on the backporch or even inside the house looking out moving by the window.
If Jesus had ever said, when you die, you will become a bird in the afterlife then I should think an oriole would be as good of a choice as any. With strikingly beautiful colors (particularly the males who are the ones blessed with the good looks in the bird world), powerful wingstrokes, and the bonus fact that they devour oranges, jelly, and sugar for several months during breeding season much like an eight year old me subsisting on a steady diet of powdered donuts and Lucky Charms cereal.
It’s not all-sugar all-the-time as the orioles’ diet does change to insects more during the summer months when raising their young, but for a few months every spring and fall, I could handle this diet of jelly and oranges. Of course jelly and oranges are not free and as of this writing I’ve cleared about two and half jars of jelly and three-four oranges. Much like a child or dependent, they don’t much care about your pocketbook and I am fairly certain that they will leave if the food supply chain runs out regardless of all that I have done for them the past four-five days.
But I guess thems the breaks when you’re running a well renowned neighborhood aviary. I’v already been back once to WBU since the oriole onslaught. It was a different young person this time who asked me “what brings you in today?” I showed her the container of jelly I was holding in my hands and we both just nodded.
Go birds!
“Hide-and-seek, we play along while rushing ‘cross the forest Monkey business on a sunny afternoon”
The short-lived 80’s group Baltimora was a duo comprised of Maurizio Bassi, a music producer and musician from Italy, and Jimmy McShane, a native of Northern Ireland. The two decided to form an act fronted by McShane, a trained singer, dancer and actor. The story goes that McShane and Bassi chose the name Baltimora when, one evening together, McShane took a map of the United States, closed his eyes and happened to place his finger on Baltimore, changing the final letter to an ‘a’ to make the name more in keeping with the act’s Italian roots.
Baltimora had just three studio albums during their time active from 1984-1987. Released in 1985 today’s song charted inside the top 5 in many European countries and peaked at #13 in the U.S. Baltimora was widely regarded as a one-hit wonder with this song, which is often considered one of the most annoying songs and videos from the 80’s. Here is Baltimora and “Tarzan Boy”…
Thanks for stopping by!
sincerely,
the80s
Ps. 19:1 The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship.
The man is 81. The man continues to tease his signature spiky blonde locs. And the man is still producing quality tour shows.
I’ve used Rod Stewart’s music several times on this site including this particular song in a post about graduations in May of 2017, so I am reposting a link to that one below along with this video I shot just a few weeks ago of that timeless 1988 hit. Performed almost halfway through his 24 song performance that evening, here is an extended version of the song (allowing for one of Rod’s wardrobe changes), and the one and only Rod Stewart remaining “Forever Young…”
“Then life is just a one night stand” – The Righteous Brothers
After I turned 21 sometime along the summer of 1992 my dad took me on my first trip to Las Vegas. He and my mom took many trips to Vegas. It was where they spent their honeymoon and where they would return to many times through the years often with their best friends, Jerry and Laura Beth Jobe. But this time was just the two of us, and we spent a couple of days eating good food and working the blackjack tables. My mom had “loaned” me several hundred dollars because I was just a broke college kid at the time. We stayed at his favorite hotel – Caesar’s and he also bought tickets to two shows while we were there. One was Frankie Valli. The other show was The Righteous Brothers.
My dad loved The Righteous Brothers. He had lost track of how many times he had seen them perform over the years. His first time, he remembered, was in the early to mid 60’s shortly after the duo of Bobby Hatfield and Bill Medley formed the group. Even back in 1992, it was a time when you could still slip the usher some money and he would move you to a better table closer to the stage. So I remember my dad giving the usher 20 bucks and he took us to a table about three or four rows from the stage like we were big shots. I think I was in a rum and Coke phase at the time and may have had a few that night while my dad enjoyed his traditional Crown and Coke during the show. The duo performed their hits and my dad and I gave them a standing ovation after the show concluded.
The Righteous Brothers formed sometime around 1963 but split up shortly thereafter in 1968 when Bill Medley and his baritone voice left for a solo career. The pair reunited in 1974 and had this comeback hit, which I distinctly remember blaring from my parents’ old phonograph stereo system at our house when I was very young. Mostly known for “Unchained Melody” and “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,” this song was really their last hit peaking at #3 on the U.S. charts back in 1974.
Back in a time when you didn’t need the top half of the buttons on your dress shirt, Bobby and Bill were still vocally at the top of their games. Hatfield passed away in 2003 but Medley still performs that “blue-eyed soul” to this day at the age of 85. My dad would have been 86 today and so I like to think he’s up above holding Medley’s place while he sings all of those songs he loved so much while on this earth alongside Bobby Hatfield. I don’t know whether all of the artists they mention in today’s song are up there culminating in “a hell of a band,” but I do know that as much music and singing as there is in the Bible that our heavenly Father surely can appreciate the gifts he bestowed upon many including these two, appropriately called The Righteous Brothers.
From their comeback in 1974, here they are with “Rock and Roll Heaven.”
If you’ve seen or heard enough already, feel free to skip this unabashedly, completely biased patriotic post, because I’m just unleashing patriotic jubilation onto my keyboard. My algorithm on Insta and Facebook and YouTube confirm it as well. I cannot get enough of the U.S.A. hockey win over Canada. Both wins. Both against Canada. The U.S. women with a 2-1 win thanks to Megan Keller’s gold medal winner in sudden death overtime.
I cannot get enough of Matt Boldy’s unbelievable first goal in the American mens’ gold medal win over Canada, also 2-1, also in sudden death overtime on Sunday morning. I can’t get enough of all of the stops by U.S. goalie Connor Hellebuyck. And of course, I can’t get enough of Jack Hughes poking the loose puck forward in overtime, hanging back, receiving a perfect pass from Zach Werenski, and delivering a gold medal winner past Canadian goaltender Jordan Binnington. I can’t get enough of the shot, the call on broadcast, all of the angles, all of the celebrations, and as a person who loves sports, I don’t even particularly care for watching hockey.
But at 9:55 a.m. CST Sunday morning, after two plus tense hours that began shortly after dawn, I leapt from my couch with new favorite player names and wishing I too had gloves and a helmet and a stick to throw into the air in celebration. The 24 year old Jack Hughes, missing bits and pieces of a few white chiclets inside his mouth had just sent red, white, and blue fans into a frenzy. I watched the scene unfold like a future Disney movie – the reactions, the hugs, the smiles, the American flags waving wildly, and then, just a few minutes after Jack Hughes’ gold medal-winning goal, I left for church.
I was eight years old the last time the U.S. men won hockey gold at the Olympics. I don’t really remember it, but somehow I felt a like an eight year old again Sunday morning when Hughes took that pass from Werenski and proceeded to blast the winning shot past Binnington. And just like that, 46 years to the day, the U.S. hockey team had won gold again and fans everywhere rejoiced. I thought about the 8, 9, 10 year olds in America who had just witnessed one of the greatest hockey games in Olympics history and were inspired to be part of the next wave of great American hockey players.
Goalie Connor Hellebuyck was unbelievable in defense and was widely regarded as the best player on the ice Sunday morning. He made saves on 41 of 42 Canadian shots on goal including this one that might only be reasonably explained by divine intervention.
Sing with me, if it’s just for today Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away
On my short drive to church, I thought about the celebration and the hugs and the flag waving and I thought that’s what Heaven might look like someday – flags of glory, music and singing, hugs, joy… only on streets of gold instead of frozen water.
The team honored their late teammate, Johnny Gaudreau, by hanging his jersey in the locker room as further inspiration. “Johnny Hockey” was an all-star, and regarded as a missing piece of the U.S. hockey brotherhood over the past two weeks. Johnny and his younger brother Matthew were killed by a drunk driver while riding bicycles in 2024. The Gaudreau family – his parents, his wife, and his two young children were on hand for the victory. Did I get teary-eyed watching the team carry the two little Gaudreau kids onto the ice for the team photo? Wouldn’t you?
Now, it’s back to the algorithm. Back to the Tkachuk brothers, Johnny Hockey, Connor Hellebruyck’s stoning, Matt Boldy’s incredible goal, and of course Jack Hughes’ game winning, gold medal shot, and that toothless smile.
USA! USA! USA!
“Dream on, dream on Dream on, dream on.”
From the 1973 album, “Aerosmith,” and also from the 2004 “Miracle” movie soundtrack about the 1980 U.S. hockey team, it’s the Boston band, Aerosmith with their very fitting classic, “Dream On”…
Do you still believe in miracles?
I do.
Your old men will dream dreams and your young men will have visions.
Dream until your dreams come true. The boys in red, white, and blue did.
“Palaces and piers. Trumpets, towers, and tenements. Wide oceans full of tears” – The Waterboys
I like Barnes & Noble. It feels like a family member. Maybe like the wise likable uncle who has always been there – observing, listening, chronicling, dreaming. He stands still holding a cup of coffee watching a busy and chaotic world rush by, but occasionally reminding you – ‘Hey, I’m still here if you need anything‘ – a standing open invitation to come, sit, walk, rest, study, converse, remember.
I like to wander the store taking note of the people. Young purple-haired mothers reading their children books in the kids area, conservatively dressed proper widows buying gifts up front, young men in the self help section searching for meaning, and middle-aged grey-haired observers like me wandering the aisles… not unlike this post. I’m kind of wandering right now, or maybe meandering is more suited to this post.
Barnes & Noble has been in existence of some sort since Charles Barnes had a book business in Illinois in 1873. His son, William, partnered with Clifford Noble and they opened the first Barnes & Noble in NYC in 1917. Like any 100+ year-old family member though, the retailer has had it’s share of highs and lows, bustling prosperity combined with humbling moments that surely considered a world without large corporate-owned book stores. Under new private ownership since 2019 (Elliott Management Group), B&N has seemingly caught wind in their sails again having opened between 50-60 new stores per year the past two years, and though I do enjoy supporting the small mom and pop used book stores, I do find the existence and the ease of this large retail bookstore to be comforting.
Yes, you climbed on the ladder With the wind in your sails You came like a comet Blazing your trail
Browsing the aisles a few days ago, I picked up Matthew McConaughey’s latest book published in September of this year titled “Poems and Prayers.” I flipped it open and read only one page. That page is all I needed to finish this post which has had this particular song bouncing around in my head for weeks. Maybe I’ll read other pages in the future, but this is all I needed for now:
I saw the rain-dirty valley you saw Brigadoon
Born and raised in Edinburgh, Mike Scott formed the Scottish group known as The Waterboys in 1983. He has been the only constant member over the years of a band typically comprised of members from the UK and Ireland. I didn’t listen to The Waterboys in the 80’s, and honestly this song and this group easily slipped by my hair-metal, rap, top-40-focused teenage eyes back then. But, because of that narrow focus, it became a wonderful thing some 40 years later when discovering or perhaps “stumbling” upon this beautiful song.
Not an especially big chart success when it was originally released in 1985 off of The Waterboys’ “This is the Sea” album, the re-release in March of 1991 saw it achieve more accolades and numerous covers of the song subsequently followed through the years. The song is an incredible arrangement of instruments featuring a trumpet, synthesizer, an electric violin, and a saxophone solo at the end of the song that screams “80’s!” The lyrics by Scott are vast and wondrous, well conceived and apparently a composition and ode to many artists and writers and deep thinkers throughout history.
I saw the crescent, but you saw the whole of the moon.
And so maybe another reason I enjoy Barnes & Noble is because in there I am surrounded by inspiration. Enclosed by names on book sleeves and album covers and art designs by people who didn’t just see the crescent, but for a time and a place, like Mike Scott in 1985, they too saw “The Whole of the Moon”…
Go create something.
sincerely,
the80s
I too thought I saw the whole of the moon back in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Turns out it was just The Death Star.
For the majority of his 37-year life, Clayton Edward Kershaw has been in the mold of an elite baseball pitcher. For the last 18 years, it has been that of a paid professional pitcher for the Los Angeles Dodgers, where he has struck out over 3,000 batters and pitched to the tune of a 2.54 lifetime ERA – the lowest such in the “live ball era” excluding fellow Dodger and knuckleball pitcher, Hoyt Wilhelm who retired with a 2.52 ERA in 1972. But that long-lasting mold which has produced a lifetime of greatness is about to change for Kershaw as he took to the mound for his final home regular season start last night in Los Angeles (it’s possible he could make another home start or multiple ones depending upon how far the Dodgers advance in the playoffs). Now, other aspiring pitchers of a new generation will and already are trying to fit into the mold Clayton Kershaw is leaving behind.
Kershaw made his major league debut as a 20 year old on May 25, 2008. He was the youngest major leaguer at the time and threw six innings against the St. Louis Cardinals that day giving up two earned runs while striking out seven and walking just one batter on 102 pitches, a very Kershaw-esque statline. He finished last night’s effort by throwing 91 pitches over four and one-third innings while giving up two earned runs and striking out six. He struck out the Giants’ Rafael Devers, and then manager Dave Roberts came and got him.
I was lucky enough to see Kershaw pitch this year. Working his way back from injury, he had a rehab start for the Dodgers’ Double A affiliate, the Tulsa Drillers when they played the NW Arkansas Naturals (Kansas City’s Double A affiliate) just a few miles from my house. It was announced on the day so anyone paying attention could have easily bought a cheap ticket and had a good seat to watch a future hall of famer in action as you can see from these photos I took from about 10-15 rows up on the third base side. There were approximately 3,800 in attendance as Kershaw threw 60 pitches that night over three and two-thirds innings giving up four hits and one earned run while striking out four. He got a standing ovation when the manager pulled him out of the game in the fourth inning. It wasn’t because he pitched great. It was because he’d given over 17 years of his life to being one of the best baseball pitchers of all-time.
“I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down.”
“That’s the cruel thing about baseball is that your career will be gone in an instant and the game keeps going. But that’s also the beautiful thing about it, too, is that this game doesn’t need anybody.” – Clayton Kershaw
A lifetime of memories built around a game. It’s really all that most professional athletes know. It’s what scares them and excites them all at the same time as they finish up their playing careers. It’s what motivates many of them to hang on at the end, many times well past their prime. The athletes need the the game more than the game needs them. Clayton Kershaw understands this better than anyone and has probably been pondering for days, weeks, months, maybe even years what life without pitching at the highest level is going to look like now that the game is finally discarding him like all of the nasty sliders he used in discarding overmatched hitters through the years. Maybe the game doesn’t need him, but the game has rarely had anyone as good as him.
Many lifelong hikers will tell you that the hike and journey in reaching the summit are easier than the descent back down. The time at the summit is very brief, and as Clayton Kershaw sat in the outfield last night during his pregame routine soaking in the sights, the sounds, the smells, all the feels from 18 years of triumph and tribulation, he knew it was time to descend back down the mountain. He may turn back on his way down for a few more glimpses of that summit he spent so many hours and weeks and years getting to as his Dodgers navigate their 2025 playoff path over the next several weeks in search of another World Series title, but as surely as the sun sets below the horizon so will Clayton Kershaw’s magnificent career. A one of one mold.
“Cause it’s a bitter sweet symphony, that’s life.”
Known for his consistent, precise routines throughout the week and especially on days he pitched, the road of Kershaw’s 18-year major league pitching routine are about to be replaced with something new and something different.
This song by The Verve was being played by the organist in Dodger Stadium as Kershaw made his way off the mound to a standing ovation in a place where memories have spun and dipped like the devastating slider he’s known for throwing to hitters over the last 18 seasons. It was an apropos song, as you would expect, contrasting the beauty of life with the harshness of reality.
Hitting the charts in 1997, The Verve became a household name in the States with this lead single from their album, “Urban Hymns.” It reached #2 in their home country and #12 in the U.S.
Sampling from an orchestral version of 1965’s Rolling Stones song “The Last Time” (a whole different story in itself), here is the unique sound of lead singer Richard Ashcroft and his band The Verve with their Grammy-nominated song and highly regarded video filmed in London and which helped define the “Britpop” era of the 90’s, “Bitter Sweet Symphony”…
Thanks for the soundtrack, Richard, and thanks for the memories, Clayton.
sincerely, the 80's 