Last Saturday, I saw my friends Cereal Killers play a gig at the brewery down the hill from our house.
Tons of our friends were in the audience for that one.
On Memorial Day, I met up with my friend Ken at another brewery (if you’re sensing a pattern, you may be correct) for the countdown of the Inhailer Radio “Indie 500.” My friends Amy and David were there too. (David works at the same company where my son Peter works!)
Ken has a show on Inhailer, and several of their on-air folks were there.
(Ken does a great “sorority squat”…) They let me sneak into the photo because my friend Dave and I did some of the breaks during the countdown.
Dave and I both worked at 97X back in the day, and we met up with some other 97X alums at… yes, a brewery (the same one as Monday, in fact) on Thursday.
If you’re sensing a pattern, you may be correct.
Sandwiched in between those two outings, my friend Tom (a.k.a. “Freaky Tiki”) and I had dinner with our friend Felicity on Tuesday. Yes, it was at a brewery.
If you’re sensing a pattern, you may be correct.
Oh, and somehow I managed to squeeze in a quick road trip to Cleveland for a concert on Wednesday.
AC/DC was playing the stadium, but if you know me, you know I’m much more of a “bands at a small club” type of guy. Which is why I was at the Grog Shop to see The Tubs (my new obsession) open up for The Wedding Present.
Before the show, I met up with a bunch of college friends. At a bar.
If you’re sensing a pattern, you may be correct.
Last night I met my brother at Ramundo’s Pizzeria (where two of my sons were working) to watch Creighton (his alma mater) in NCAA baseball tournament.
If you’re sensing a pattern, you may be correct. If you’re thinking that the pattern is bars and breweries, you’re incorrect.
Those places are merely the setting.
The pattern is friendship. Band friends. Neighbor friends. Radio friends. College friends. Folks I’ve known for 40+ years, and people I’ve met in the last year or so. I feel blessed to know them, and lucky to call them friends.
I’m an old man who has no business going out nearly every night, much less driving back and forth to Cleveland in the middle of the week, but I draw energy from the connections.
And the Tuesday dinner was a sobering reminder of how fragile life can be. Felicity is the widow of my dear friend Ned. We lost him nearly two years ago. (I’ve posted about that here.)
It’s easy to stay glued to the couch and say “next time.” But there may not be one.
The older I get, the harder it is to get out to meet up with friends. Yet the older I get, the more I cherish the opportunities.
My friends are here, there, and everywhere. And that’s why I’ll be there too!
Our second oldest kid turned 24 on Derby Day. The next day he ran the Cincinnati Flying Pig half-marathon.
I went to three different spots along the route to cheer him on.
At Mile 3, when the runners come back into Ohio from Kentucky… didn’t see him.
At Mile 4, when the route takes them back into downtown… couldn’t spot him there either.
Finally, at Mile 8, I caught sight of him as he was rounding a turn past Eden Park. A quick shout-out from me, a brief smile and nod of acknowledgement from him, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
He’s 24. He’s off and running. All of our kids are. Our oldest will be moving out soon. Our daughter is renting an apartment in Clifton, near school, while she takes summer classes. Our youngest will be home from Indiana U. soon, but he’ll be off with his friends most of the summer.
Our son’s pace quickened in the second half of the race.
I know the feeling. Ferris Bueller taught me well.
It’s their race now. I’m just a spectator. Hoping to catch an occasional glimpse, a brief smile, a nod of acknowledgement.
Before they’re gone. Before I’m gone.
Seems like I was just a kid not so long ago
There were so many arrivals, so many hellos
Now my time behind is greater than my time ahead
Save up the minutes like flowers before all they’re dead and gone…
(The venue’s fantastic logo was created by my buddy Keith Neltner of Neltner Small Batch.)
Sidebar: perhaps you read about Whiskey City’s Liberty Theater in Cincinnati Magazine’s Fall Arts Preview last year? If not, you can rectify that omission from your reading list right here. The author’s name sounds familiar to me…
I really had no business driving that far to see an 8 o’clock show on a “school night.” Especially with severe weather alerts across the Tri-State. But I want to support Dan McCabe – the brains behind the venue’s reinvention, and a legendary music promoter. He’s doing his best to bring great music (and comedy, and whiskey tastings, and record fairs, and fried chicken) to a somewhat sleepy river town. Besides, my friend Dave told me weeks ago that he’d be there for the show. Good tunes and good company – worth the trip.
Dave didn’t show – he’s had some health issues recently and his wife didn’t want him driving alone in bad weather.
The crowd was sparse. (I talked to Dan at the show and he’s playing the long game – some of the artists he’s booking might have 40 for their first show, but 150 for their next one based on word of mouth.)
The venue is a gorgeous, lovingly restored 130-year-old music hall, with a top-notch sound system.
The opener, Dale Hollow, was a lot of fun – even though he had to compete with the tornado sirens that went off during his set. (We were spared, just heavy rain… I know you were worried about my safety.)
Sarah Shook & the Disarmers are on tour to promote their latest album Revelations. But before the tour started, it turned into a farewell tour too. Health issues for one longtime band member, and personal issues for another, made it hard to keep a touring band together. It’s a tough go on the road, spending endless hours in a van with your bandmates, and sometimes playing for sparse crowds, for little money.
But the band didn’t let any of those obstacles keep them from putting on a stellar show.
The lead singer River (nee Sarah) writes some great songs, and they have a great attitude about tuning out the “business” part of the music business, and tuning into their heart.
The nice woman at the merch booth gave me a copy of the set list.
The band members stuck around after the show to talk to audience members, and sign merchandise. Good luck having that happen at an arena show.
Thank you, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, for making a long trip on a dark and stormy night totally worth it. Thanks even more for your art, straight from your hearts to mine.
I’m lying. I don’t love a parade. They seem sorta silly to me. Way too much forced waving – the folks on the floats have to do it, or else they’d feel really self-conscious… and then the spectators feel like they have to wave back, just to be polite. (At least that’s how I feel.)
But I do like the Cincinnati Reds Opening Day Parade.
Because it’s organized by Findlay Market – Ohio’s oldest continuously operating public market. (And also the place that has always felt like the most welcoming and egalitarian spot in the city to a non-Cincinnati-native like me.)
Because the parade has been going on for 106 years.
Because it celebrates the first game of the Cincinnati Reds, the oldest professional franchise in MLB.
Because the parade’s grand marshal is usually a Reds old-timer, which means he’s usually a hero of mine from my younger days. This year, Chris Sabo had the honors. You gotta love a parade that has “Spuds” as the grand marshal!
Because it marks an unofficial civic holiday. This year’s event coincided with the spring break for Cincinnati Public Schools, but rest assured that if it didn’t there would be tons of kids who couldn’t make it to school due to “Reds fever.” Taking your kids out of school to go to the Opening Day parade is a rite of passage.
[photo credit for shot above, the Sabo parade photo, and the two below: Liz Dufour, The Cincinnati Enquirer – full gallery is here]
Because it brings out thousands of spectators, from all walks of life.
Because pretty much anyone can get into the parade. There are the requisite parade entries: high school and college bands, politicians in convertibles, Shriners in tiny cars…
But you also get a lot of randos. There were a whopping 159 entries in this year’s parade. Including the Wapakoneta Optimists Lawnmower Drill Team, and entries called “Opening Day Gang” and “Groove Crew of Greater Cincinnati.”
It’s a weird excuse for a party, but it’s unique to Cincinnati. It’s ours. That’s what makes it special. Chicago has their green river on St. Paddy’s. Philly has the Mummers Parade on New Year’s Day. NYC has the Macy’s parade on Thanksgiving. And we celebrate the start of baseball season… and spring… and hope for better days ahead. Play ball!
This is NOT a music-related post. (I have to post that disclaimer, as two of the four regular readers of this blog don’t like my musical musings.)
Michelle Zauner is the leader of the band Japanese Breakfast. I’m a huge fan. (Their new album comes out soon!)
But she also wrote a very moving memoir about loss – her book Crying in H Mart. When her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Michelle left her East Coast band and flew back to her childhood home in Eugene, Oregon, to take care of her mom during her final months. And as a Korean-American who lost not just her mom but her connection to her Korean heritage, Michelle feels the grief quite intensely.
I can sorta-kinda relate. I’m not mixed race like Michelle, but my mom was first generation Italian-American. And when she passed away, I lost that connection to the Italian part of my heritage. I was lucky enough to spend some quality time with my Italian aunts (Rosetta and Inez) growing up, but chances are my feelings of “Italian-ness” would be much stronger had my mom not passed away when I was so young.
I hadn’t thought about that a lot, until I listened to Michelle speak about her book at Cincinnati’s Mercantile Library earlier this week.
I found myself getting a bit misty-eyed when she talked about the sense of not just maternal loss but also cultural loss. And I started to think that I’m not just a fan of Michelle’s band, but also a kindred spirit with her.
Then. later in the week, I saw this quote:
It is essential for us to welcome our grief, whatever form it takes. When we do, we open ourselves to our shared experiences in life. Grief is our common bond. Opening to our sorrow connects us with everyone, everywhere.
— Francis Weller
Yes, I’m a kindred spirit with Michelle Zauner. And with you. And with everyone who has suffered loss… which is “everyone, everywhere.”
Grateful Living has a monthly series called “Grateful Gatherings.” As fate would have it, the focus for March is “Grief & Gratefulness.” Here’s another Francis Weller quote:
“Gratitude is the other hand of grief. It is the mature person who welcomes both. To deny either reality is to slip into chronic depression or to live in a superficial reality. Together they form a prayer that makes tangible the exquisite richness of life in this moment. Life is hard and filled with suffering. Life is also a most precious gift, a reason for continual celebration and appreciation.”
Amen to that!
The Grief & Gratefulness resources are here. Should you find yourself crying in H Mart, or in the Mercantile Library, or anywhere, really, they could come in handy.
The Mercantile Library is an absolute gem in the Queen City. It’s been open since 1835, but recently completed a remodel that adds much more cool space to what already was the city’s best haven for “readers, writers, and thinkers” as their website says. Michelle Zauner this past Tuesday, Curtis Sittenfeld this past Friday… with Timothy Egan, Crystal Wilkinson, Ada Limón, Colson Whitehead, Kaveh Akbar, and Lauren Groff still on tap this year, along with several other authors, plus book clubs, poetry readings, yoga, and so much more.
It’s a membership library, but the low cost would be worth it just to hang out in their space, and membership gets you early (and often free) access to the author events.
On Monday (“Festivus!”), I met a couple of friends downtown for happy hour. Because I’m a cheapskate, I parked at a spot off the grid, where there are no parking meters.
When I came back to the car, I found out my “Secret Santa” had left me a lovely present:
“A free upgrade to my car’s air conditioning? You shouldn’t have!”
“And a lovely glass mosaic too! You’re too kind!”
There was absolutely nothing of value visible in the car… and nothing of value in the glove compartment either, as my new friends soon discovered.
(I can’t believe they didn’t want my tire pressure gauge. Or the owner’s manual for a 2009 Honda CR-V. They’ll regret that later.)
Apparently this is the latest m.o. for “window shoppers” (per my new friends in the auto glass replacement business). They don’t have to see anything of value in the car. They just smash a window, quickly fish for goodies, then move on to the next unsuspecting victim. The car thief equivalent of a scratch-off lottery ticket.
So I saved about $9 in parking fees… and am out $250 for a new window. But tbh, it just as easily could’ve happened if I’d parked at a meter. Downtown was pretty much a ghost town that evening. And I’m not going to beat myself up when it’s the would-be thieves who deserve the punishment.
I hope your holiday season wasn’t quite as smashing!
Kevin Sullivan on Life advice from a man who lived it: “A good one Damian. Bring our lens into focus after the long weekend or our long life journey.” Jul 7, 09:38
Thomas Kuhl on We’re alive, because nothing happened.: “That is why we should celebrate every day when our feet hit the floor. Another to enjoy and share with…” Jun 25, 04:33
Thomas Kuhl on We’re alive, because nothing happened.: “This simply explains why we should celebrate every day our feet hit the floor. Another day to enjoy and share…” Jun 25, 04:31
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