The simple formula
Breathe.
Give thanks.
Repeat as necessary.
Both are necessary.
Happy Thanksgiving!
I dig those crates!
I spend an inordinate amount of time digging through crates of old albums at thrift stores. I’m like the old joke about the kid who wakes up on Christmas morning and finds a pile of horse manure under the tree instead of gifts, and dives right in because “there must be a pony in here somewhere.”
In my case, the pile of horse manure is albums from Andy Williams, the Ray Conniff singers, and The First Family album that was a spoof of the Kennedys.
Fun fact sidebar: The First Family album was released in November of 1962 and sold seven million copies by January of 1963. The follow up album (the not-so-imaginatively-titled Volume Two) hit #4 in June of 1963… both albums were pulled from sales after JFK’s assassination in November.
But if you find a prize hidden among all that audio detritus – “there must be a pony in here somewhere” – it’s worth the dig.
This weekend I got a Los Lobos album, still in its shrink-wrap, for a dollar.
I’m not looking to cash in and flip these platters — other than flipping them from Side 1 to Side 2. I’m no Discogs dude. I just like the joy of discovering something that means a lot to me, at a bargain basement price.
To be honest, I don’t really spend much time listening to vinyl albums. (I have to keep up with the new music releases, which I compile into a weekly Spotify playlist.) But albums as an artistic artifact are a lot cooler than CDs. I grew up devouring liner notes, and still do. With albums, I can actually read the fine print. And someday, I will give all of my albums (my wife claims I have too many – not humanly possible) a spin or three.
Until then, I’ll keep digging for that pony. Or “The Wolves” en Español.
Side 1, Track 1 of the album above – one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands:
The boys are back in town
Take a gander at this group of old guys (and one younger lady):
You might think there’s nothing remarkable about them. But you’d be wrong. I met all the guys in the picture when they were young dudes, back in 1982. It was our freshman year of college at Xavier University. (I know that’s hard to believe, as we all look so young… there’s no way we’re in our 60s!)
And here we are, 43 years later. A band of brothers with a bond of friendship that’ll never be broken. That’s truly remarkable.
It stinks that it’s usually sad occasions that bring us together. The first photo above was after yesterday’s funeral for our friend LJ – that’s his wife Patty in the middle. She went to XU too – she and LJ started dating in college, so she’s been part of the gang for nearly as long as we’ve been a gang.
Our friend Ned isn’t in the top photo either – he passed away two years ago, sadly. And a few fellas couldn’t make it in for the services. But they were there in spirit.
In S.E. Hinton’s novel That Was Then, This Is Now, narrator Bryon Douglas said:
If you have two friends in your lifetime, you’re lucky. If you have one good friend, you’re more than lucky.
If that’s the case, then we all won the friendship Powerball lottery. When I showed up at XU back in August of 1982, I had no idea that I was about to hit the jackpot. Such rewarding relationships, with friends that are good as gold.
My buddy Rick (yep, he’s in the photo from yesterday) sent me a text today and summed it up beautifully:
I’ve been thinking this morning that of all the non-XU friends I have, there is not a single one who can claim a cohesive group of 30-40 people who are always there for each other no matter the distance, the financial status, or the time between interactions, the way our crew is. It is honestly a really great feeling, even in times of sadness that will inevitably draw us together again and again, but knowing that even in the sad times, there will always be great stories, great memories, and uncontrollable laughter as the by-product. I thank God for you and our whole group of misfits that somehow all fit together!
Amen, Brother Rick, amen!
Spoken and Unspoken
An incomplete list of the things I wish I’d said to one of my best friends, as he lay dying from brain cancer.
- You have been a tried and true friend for more than 43 years, since we met in the dorms our freshman year. I’m truly grateful for our time together.
- We had so much fun over those 43 years – and most of it was probably legal. I will cherish the memories.
- My life is infinitely richer for having met you and having been befriended by you. I won the friendship lottery.
- You truly are one of the nicest people in the world. Your sincerity, your empathy, your complete lack of guile – such great gifts to bestow upon us.
- Your devotion to family is an example for all of us – a steadfast son, a devoted husband, a loving father, a doting “Pops” to your grandkids.
- You are so brave. Your courage in the face of soul-crushing, heart-breaking news, just a couple of months past your 60th birthday, is admirable.
- You are so strong. Even while the cancer ravaged your brain and body, you stayed positive, stayed resilient. You lived out The Serenity Prayer:
- In your courageous — and serene — approach to your final chapter on earth, you taught all of us more about what really matters.
- I love you, brother.
What I actually said to one of my best friends, as he lay dying from brain cancer:
“I love you, brother.”
The latter will have to suffice. I’m not good at goodbyes.
Rest in peace and supreme happiness, my friend. You’ve earned your wings.
John Hadden. March 6, 1964 — November 15, 2025.
My Boston Marathons (plural)
Last night, I got back from a four-day trip to Boston. It was yet another pilgrimage to see my favorite band doing three nights of shows.
It was like ComicCon, but for old guys who like guitar-driven, melodic rock circa the early 90s. (I’m being reductive – Buffalo Tom still puts out new albums occasionally, and their newer stuff is just as compelling as their older tunes. But still, they might want to look into sponsorship deals with hip replacement surgeons and Flomax.)
The venue holds about 400. 400 dedicated, dyed-in-the-wool fans, from all over – L.A., Baltimore, south Michigan, even Tasmania! And yours truly, representing the Flyover States Chapter of the Buffalo Tom Fan Club. The vibe is quite casual, as witnessed by the very “Puppet Show and Spinal Tap” look of the chalkboard sign in front of the Armory.
Buffalo Tom was never “massive”… but I love their music, and they’re good dudes. I’m so grateful that they’ve organized this festival for the past couple of years. Seeing and hearing them live brings me so much joy. They’re my jam!
Three nights of concerts (including an acoustic set Thursday with some very tasty cover songs from Echo & The Bunnymen, the Rolling Stones, The Cars, the Psychedelic Furs, New Order, Simon & Garfunkel, and Died Pretty).
Plus a book reading from lead singer Bill Janovitz’s latest book, which is about The Cars.
But wait, there’s more! A band Q&A, an autograph session, and cool opening bands (John Wesley Harding! The Moving Targets! Hilken Mancini and Melissa Gibbs! Elsa Kennedy!). Truly an embarrassment of riches for BT fans. A magical musical marathon.
Speaking o’ marathons, I clocked a ton of steps traipsing through Boston, Cambridge, Somerville, and Medford during my stay. I had to make a pilgrimage to Greystone, the amazing cafe/bakery in the South End that my first cousin once removed Jacqueline owns and operates, with an assist from her mom (“Cousin Patty” to me).
They weren’t around (Jacqueline just had Baby #3, and Patty was out of town for a wedding) but the morning bun was to die for!
I met up with the daughter/niece (respectively) of a couple of brothers who are friends of mine from college. (She works at Greystone!) And with husband/wife co-workers of mine who relocated to Boston a couple of years ago.
Boston Public Library. Harvard Square. Newbury Comics. Davis Square. Winter Hill Brewing. Cheapo Records. And green space galore!
I started walking and never really stopped.
I walked a Boston Marathon and a Boston Half-Marathon. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Buffalo Tom’s song “All Be Gone” says it best:
Seems like I was just a kid not so long ago
So many arrivals
So many hellos
Now my time behind is greater than my time ahead
Save up the minutes like flowers
Before they’re all dead and gone
While I can, I’m gonna lace ’em up, and keep on keepin’ on.
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