The music of the 60s generation had rock, instrumentals, love songs, surfing music, songs of protest, hilarious and crazy songs. The 60’s generation of music set the stage for music to come.
Welcome everyone to Drivel Over Coffee, the blog; musings, memories and whatnot infused with the earthy aroma of French Roast Coffee with a dose of rant mixed in on occasion. My look upon life as seen through dog-licked glasses.
It is with sadness that the nine year run of Coffeesmiths has come to an end. What has been the home of “Drivel Over Coffee” the past few years is now “Scooters”. Not fond of the name or their new prices but that is progress. The name would not draw me in for a coffee or fancy drink. To me it would draw me in when I desired a case of said “Scoot”ers. Regardless, it is Drivel’s new home.
Musings – I have for some time had a burning desire to revisit my youth for in most ways that was the time of my life where I personally had the most inner peace. Recapturing pieces of that time is expensive when you are seventy. My first car – can’t afford for instance. I had settled on a Ford 8N tractor as it was the tractor I learned to drive when I was 8 years old. They are affordable but a friend took that idea. The picture on the right is what I am going for now. As I mentioned, being seventy, this may be more appropriate. Three wheeled old farts trikes. Now the ones shown are the standard models. The ones I am modifying for my current wife and myself will have a race prepared Chevy II four-cylinder engine mounted sideways. There will a dash with full instruments, 2-way radios and cruise control. We will put rev limiters on them for sidewalk use. Now that Cedar Rapids is becoming known for the city of sidewalks and bike lanes, these should really become popular.
Mini Rant – Fastener your seatbelts, here is my rant this week. Let’s talk about the fall of the United States. I believe the evolution of our democracy is a bell curve. I also believe we are on the down side of this bell curve. Every aspect of our society is in decline or decay. I will start at our level. Our local government is feeding its citizens words they want to hear but their actions don’t back those words up. They convinced the gullible citizens into a 1 cent tax to fix our streets. Now our city budget has a line item for street repair and maintenance. We are told there isn’t enough. The tax is passed. A couple of years later – we suddenly are putting sidewalks everywhere. Why – who knows. Oh, many streets are being repaired, just not the ones that really need repair. In the process we are expanding the streets so the biker will have his own lane. Don’t know why. They seemed to be content for the last 100 years or so. This is just one example of people in public office that have lost their moral compass. They are not doing the public good, they are doing what makes money for themselves and cohorts.
I challenged my readers to become alert. Watch and listen to our political leaders at all levels. Compare words and actions. Compare actions to the public good. See if you don’t agree that our society at all levels, ways and aspect are emanating a modern version of the Fall of the Roman Empire.
Memories – The year was 1963. This was the time of rock and roll, school dances, the twist, and folk music. On stage right at Central Farmersville Community Institution stood three somewhat talented but very scared students. Knees knocking, palms sweating and a mouth seemingly full of cotton. The gym floor was loaded with students, their peers, dancing with their latest squeezes. The dj was spinning the latest songs on his portable 45 rpm record player. In the far corner loitered the guys that were too cool to dance. They stood around just hoping one of the gals would need a ride home. Yes, there was a cluster of young lovelies dancing together hoping for a guy to budge in.
The dj let the song end then announced to the throng that live on that very stage making their debut were The Travelers Three. From behind us, someone pushed us. We had nowhere to go but on stage. There JS, PT, and I, dressed similarly like any good trio began strumming our guitars as if we knew what the heck we were doing. We opened with Greenback Dollar. Each of us participated in band, choir, and drama club so it wasn’t exactly like we were complete rubes. The more we played, the more relaxed and better we got. It was a mind blowing ego boost. Our peers seemed to like the tunes we delivered. The group continued on for a couple of years, but sadly we lost PT. RM was his able replacement. Graduation proved to be the undoing of our trio. But music was burned into our souls forever. RM is still involved in the entertainment industry. I was able to spend time in Greenwich Village in New York City developing my love for the 60’s music and its masters still burns in my heart.
Whatnots– Things you just don’t hear anymore
I need a dime for the pay toilet!
The tape on my reel to reel tape player is broken.
Turn the antenna to fix the reception.
Fix your nylons – your seam is crooked.
I am rubber, you are glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!
Kindergarten baby, stick your head in gravy.
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.
“What time is it kids? It’s Howdy Doody Time?”
“Move, are you made of glass? I can’t see through you”.
“You’re just like your father.”
“When you get my age, you will understand.”
“Just wait until we get home.”
Yesterday my daughter again asked why I didn’t do something useful with my time. Talking about my “doing something useful” seemed to be her favorite topic of conversation. She was “only thinking of me” and suggested I go down to the senior center and hang out with the guys. I did this and when I got home last night I decided to teach her a lesson about staying out of my business. I told her that I had joined a parachute club. She said, “Are you nuts? You’re almost 71 years old and you’re going to start jumping out of airplanes?” I proudly showed her that I even got a membership card. She said to me, “Good grief, where are your glasses! This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club.” “I’m in trouble again, and I don’t know what to do…I signed up for five jumps a week.” I told her. She fainted. Life as a senior citizen is not getting any easier but sometimes it can be fun.
An E-Mail To The Wrong Wife – After being nearly snowbound for two weeks last winter, a Cedar Rapids man departed for his vacation in Miami Beach, where he was to meet his wife the next day at the conclusion of her business trip to Minneapolis. They were looking forward to pleasant weather and a nice time together. Unfortunately, there was some sort of mix up at the boarding gate, and the man was told he would have to wait for a later flight.
He tried to appeal to a supervisor but was told the airline was not responsible for the problem and it would do no good to complain. Upon arrival at the hotel the next day, he discovered that Miami Beach was having a heat wave, and its weather was almost as uncomfortably hot as Cedar Rapids was cold. The desk clerk gave him a message that his wife would arrive as planned. He could hardly wait to get to the pool area to cool off, and quickly sent his wife an e-mail, but due to his haste, he made an error in the e-mail address. His message therefore arrived at the home of an elderly preacher’s wife whose even older husband had died only the day before. When the grieving widow opened her e-mail, she took one look at the monitor, let out an anguished scream, and fell to the floor dead. Her family rushed to her room where they saw this message on the screen:
Dearest wife, Departed yesterday as you know. Just now got checked in. Some confusion at the gate. Appeal was denied. Received confirmation of your arrival tomorrow. Your loving husband.
Remember your Vietnam Veterans – All gave some, some gave all!! June is PTSD Awareness Month. If I can make at least one-person smile, or laugh till they leak, then my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!