Will T.

Back in 1990, my friend Matt and I were discussing music, which to be honest, is what we’d do constantly. Matt had told me that he was listening to Chicago’s Steve and Gary show, broadcast on WLUP FM.  They had a musician on that he thought I would find interesting. He told me the singer/songwriter seemed like a country/rock type artist who had somehow named Minneapolis’ The Replacements as an influence. The Replacements were not Matt’s cup of tea, but they were definitely among my favorite artists at the time and still are. Kudos to Matt for going above and beyond and thinking of me. 

The artist was Will T. Massey. 

So I tucked away that for the future and moved onward. Somewhere along the line, Matt and I were at a record store, and I was digging through a cut out bin of cassettes. It was there that I found a promo copy of Will‘s 1990 self-titled debut album.  As a preface to a lot of possible musical stories, "I popped that into my tape deck…" 

I was fucking gobsmacked from the opening track.

From Send Up the Smoke to A Summertime Graveyard, I was just blown away. During the summer of 1990, I was listening to this tape constantly; so much so, that I would see my nephews, Joe and Adam, playing in the other room while I babysat, and Adam would be lip syncing to Send Up the Smoke as he pushed his Tonkas around.  Over the next few years I lost track of that tape and Will T. 

In the late 2000s, I had stumbled across an article about Mr. Massey stating that as the 90s crumbled, Will did along with them. He fell off the map. Turns out he suffered from schizophrenia; this rode him into the ground. After years of being gone, in 2008 or so, he found treatment of a sort. He then popped back on the music scene in the south in 2009. His return included a couple of CDs and an Austin songwriter of the year award in 2012. 

I contacted him directly on Facebook and thanked him for his songs. I told him that Smoke and You Take the Town had been there for me in multiple situations over many years. That the songs had nurtured me through some difficult times more than once.  Will thanked me for loving his art and was glad those songs were there for me. He always closed out his correspondence with:

Peace, 

Will T. 

It wasn’t a penpal relationship. I wasn’t a babbling fan trying to coat him with unwanted attention. It was just a couple of back-and-forth expressions of appreciation, if you will. A friend once told me that the internet shrunk the world. 

and he was right.

I was able to thank Will, as I have been able to do with a few other musical artists as well. But then Will vanished again as quickly as he had popped back up,  Leaving a couple of albums and a bevy of songs in his wake. 

I recently found a blog from one of his cousins,  one that had spent much time with him over the years and misses him deeply to this day. He hasn’t spoken to Will in over eight years.  He hopes Will is still out there and does his damndest to keep Will and his musical legacy alive on his little corner of the internet. You can find the narrative here. Buller's Back Porch

He definitely misses Will and there’s some touching stuff here to be taken in. And in my own way, I want to preserve Will‘s music too. Will touched more than a few lives in his time with his art, and it seems from the comments on the blog he still is . 

Here is Will T.Massey in his 1991 prime on Austin City Limits.

   

Wherever you are, Will, 

Peace. 

Ma & The Atari & The Heart

Some years back, I found out from a great Aunt that I have both Irish and Bohemian blood in me from my Father's side.  So, I guess in a roundabout way, that makes me a Pikey.  In the movie, Snatch, Brad Pitt plays the world's most famous Pikey.  Just like Pitt's character, Mickey O'Neill, I love my Mother.

Christmas of 1980 was a melancholish (not a word, I know) yet joyous affair. A true oxymoron yes. But it was the winter of the Atari 2600.

We didn't actually get an Atari. We got the Sears version, the Tele-Games. Same difference, as the fam would say.

                                    

We all had a blast playing games on it. It was cool to watch Don "turn over" Asteroids. Dan or Pee Wee figured out how to get "double blasts" out of your avatar in Space Invaders. Dad liked sports games. Linda and Dan played Pitfall with me all the time.

                                                Ma only played one game, man. Frogger.

                                 

 
She also almost wriggled out of her orange recliner multiple times in excitement playing the thing, threatening her delicate sacroiliac.  That was hardcore.  Who says "Oh, my sacroiliac!"?

My Ma, that's who.


Sometimes, if you watch Law & Order enough, you learn legal terms. One I picked up on is "excited utterances". What is that, you say?


Says Google: An excited utterance is a statement relating to a startling event or condition, made while the declarant was under the stress of excitement caused by the event. As a hearsay exception (Federal Rule of Evidence 803(2)), it is admissible because the spontaneity and lack of time to reflect are believed to ensure reliability.


So, one day, Ma is really rocking Frogger. She's got that frog flying up and down The Boulevard of Broken Balls as Christopher Walken would say in a noir song on SNL.  Breathlessly, Mom was having one of the best games of her Atari career. And just as she's about to break her personal high, the Frog goes splat. Ma shouts out:


"GOD DOOTS SPASTICH!"


The room freezes. We all stare at each other. And the laughter went on for an hour, maybe more.


A catchphrase was born.  
One that persists to this day.  You should hear Don say it.

Later Mom would almost top this moment by misremembering a mid 80's music video appearance by Dwight Yoakam.  She claimed to be a big fan, and yet told me his name was Dwayne Purvis.  We laughed about that for years. 

Anyways, memories are what this blog is all about.  I went to see my Mom this past summer with Aidan.  She now suffers from dementia. Nothing is harder on memories than that.  Pee Wee has done such a great job getting Ma set up in a home that has made her as happy as Ma can possibly be. My sister deserves all the loves for the effort she's put in. 

When I got up to Wausau from Texas, my niece and great niece Jessica and Tia took Aidan and I to see Ma right away.

I sat in front of her, her hands in mine, Aidan to my right, hand on my back.  Mom wasn't quite sure.  She talked about family, she talked about Dad, memories.  She emotionally thanked Aidan and I for being there.  But I could tell she only had a faint grasp on who she was speaking to.  As she was talking about her kids, she said she had a son. 

A son named Robby.

That's when I said that it was me.  I was right there.  

The light went on. It all came back. The power in that moment was incredible.  She spoke of memories.  Of me.  Of Aidan.  Lichter Road, Somers.  Her brothers, her Mom.

Her girls.  All of them.  How much she loves them.  How much she loves Dan and I, those goofy sons of hers.

I love my Mom so much.  I can't thank Pee Wee and Linda enough for advising me to get up there while Mom still had cognizant moments to function, to be aware.  To remember, and reminisce, and love. 

And of course, give you stuff.  She's always doing that.  That shit ain't new.

But the power of her light turning on.  The look on her face.  The smile in her eyes. 

That was a fucking GOD DOOTS SPASTICH!! moment if there ever was one.  

I love you, Mom.  Thank you. 

Svengoolie

 So as a kid, I can remember a friend and I getting together to watch the Son of Svengoolie 3-D movie. 

Svengoolie is the alter ego of Chicago personality Rich Koz.  Today is his birthday. 

Dateline: July 29, 1982.  The movie is The Revenge of the Creature.  With Clint Eastwood in a cameo as a lab tech!

Anyway, this buddy of mine, his siblings, and I gathered around the television to watch the movie after getting the sunglasses from a local convenience store. 

All he could do was complain. 

He really literally thought that things were going to be flying out of the television during the entire two hour running time of the movie. As young as I was, I understood how it worked. 

I did even try to tell him “it’s only gonna be something that is going to be an element of addition to the movie.” It’s wasn’t going to be the main focus in the thing. Also, the movie is fucking 30 years old! Don’t expect magic!

There was no getting through to him.

   

To this day people complain about the great 3-D disaster. Like a political scandal, which is bullshit. If you would follow instructions and listen to what Sven was saying at the beginning of the program, you would not have had any problems. 

He told you exactly what you needed to do with the technical picture settings on your television to make the 3-D work with the glasses; and  the damn 3-D did work with the glasses!! 

Apparently I was the only one that showed up for that five minute intro to the movie. Regardless, I grew up watching son of svengoolie on the weekends, got a kick out of those classic horror movies that he shared, and his corny jokes that he is still doing to this day. 

God bless Rich Koz, the man himself . 

God bless Svengoolie. 

Happy birthday, Sven!