FEBRUARY 2001 NEWSLETTER
CONTINUED...
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Are we there yet?
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The next day, we drove to Tulsa,
Oklahoma (where the wind comes sweeping down the plain) and
played for a fine group of folks. A few ladies put together
their own Slide-Girl wear for the evening. After that concert,
we loaded up the van, and drove 250 miles in fog to Kansas City,
where we slept from 3 am all the way until 5 am, when we had
to go to the airport to catch a plane to Caronport, Saskatchewan.
Well, NOBODY actually catches a plane to Caronport, per se.
What I mean is, we flew right into Regina, then got a ride over
to Caronport. Along with us in the van were our good friends
Carl, Pete, and Ringo, of CPR fame.Pete seems a little confused
in the photo. Though, if you ask Carl, Pete always seems a little
confused. (hengh!)
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We were all headed for Caronport in order to play
at the premier Canadian youth event, called Youth Quake. They put
on the most amazing productions at Youth Quake, and we were honored
to be invited back to bring down the level of professionalism for
them again this year. We played several little concerts, one of
which was with our good friends--the aforementioned--CPR. I figure
as how there was no need to put in a photo of them since, after
all, I've already put their picture in approximately 1,500 past
newsletters, right? I mean, how much more can I do for these guys?
I'm not made of camera batteries you know!
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While we were at Youth Quake,
some folks decorated the stage with balloons and their offspring.
(It's a long story, and you had to be there.) Also, on the
last night, a fellow (who claimed his name was "I'm Joe")
got a little tired and asked if he could sit in the comfortable
chair for the rest of the concert. We said, sure, but he'd
have to baby-sit as well. At this same final Youth Quake concert,
we made up lots of songs about the various provinces. A true
crowd pleaser was the number we creatively called "Saskatchewan."
It's a song about a province up in Canada named "Saskatchewan."
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"Welcome to my play!"
Comfy now?
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Anyway, then we left that event, and its fine participants,
and headed back to the states. During my layover in The Metroplex,
I attended a groovy worship time at a place called "Spirit Garage,"
and an hilarious play, staged by the Gremlin Theater Group. Michael
got his dose of humility by being once more beaten at tennis by
Troy from our office. Then we boarded our planes, and flew homeward.
Well, I did, I mean. Michael instead flew back to the van in Kansas
City and drove it to my house in Ohio. (I know, I know, that Michael
does ALL the driving, right?) After a couple days at home, it was
off again to Pennsylvania where we played at an afternoon Ash Wednesday
service. That evening, we played a concert in the same place, and
lots of friends from Jamestown and elsewhere came over and filled
the pews.
And now, I'm debating with myself as to whether
I should just end this newsletter or if I should tell you about
our Niagara Falls adventure. Hmmm . . . okay, I'm wrong, and I'm
right. Why not tell what I've got to tell while I can still remember
it, right? Alright. It's not much of a story; it's more of a photo
essay.
Michael and I stopped by Niagara Falls the day after Ash Wednesday.
(I guess that'd be Soap-And-Water Thursday.) We were going to look
at a house, because Michael had been considering moving back to
our hometown. Turns out, the house wasn't really going to pan out;
you know, he's so taken with that one outside Waxahachie and all.
But we spent the rest of the day visiting various interesting things.
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Michael's roots
George's roots
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First we stopped by the houses
where we each grew up.
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Then we stopped by our home
church. The big empty lot next door was once Cayuga Drive
School, where I attended K-4th grades. As you can see, someone's
trying to build a little home school there now.
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Home-stead-school
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Mrs. McCarthy's House
Metaphor Alert!
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Then, we drove over to where
I went weekly for piano lessons. As anyone from Niagara Falls
who took piano lessons for ten years in the 70's can tell
you, it's the home of Mrs. McCarthy, my piano teacher. In
some ways, she's responsible for the fact that you're reading
this now. (Excuse me while I tenderly dab the glistening tear
of sentimentality now moistening my flushed cheek.) As some
of you may know, Niagara Falls was once a thriving city, but
has lately fallen upon hard times. REALLY hard times. There
was once a candy store in my neighborhood called "Duane's."
We drove over to see it, and I snapped a photo from the side
of the building where my Supplier operated.I love how the
street sign sits there like a huge METAPHOR.
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And finally, I'm not even going to comment on these next three
photos. This is the high school where Michael and I spent
seemingly endless days during our teens. These photos make
me wonder, for how many people is this moment an answered
prayer? Of course, for me, it was answered just about 23 years
too late.
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And, finally, this is
my favorite photo from the adventure, a snapshot that
seems only fitting for the town that gave the world
the Love Canal . . . As you can see, some things never
change.
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And on that happy note, this tirade is done. If you'd
like to see the photos I took from the stages, you can click on the
Photo Phrenzy . If you don't want to see
those photos, then beat it.
Rocking on, and hoping that the groundhog calls for a recount,
george
Read more
of George's monthly newsletters.
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