The Large Man Chronicles

The month of May really sucked for me. I lost three HUGE music heroes from my youth, Doc Watson, Robin Gibb, and Donna Summer.

Doc Watson:

A lot of you may not know of Doc, but he was an amazing Bluegrass and Folk music guitar picker, although pigeonholing him to any genre is probably disrespectful. He could play Blues with anybody, and his Gospel work was highly regarded as well; Americana would probably be the best label, if a label must be used.

An eye infection cost him his eyesight when he was just a baby, but it didn’t prevent him from becoming one of the most respected players of recorded music. Doc was a guitar player’s guitar player.  He and I have a connection as we are both part of a fraternity of people who are privileged owners of a Wayne C. Henderson guitar. Most of you have heard of a player by the name of Eric Clapton; he’s in the club too…just sayin.

I saw Doc at a music festival when I was just a little kid, and saw him perform at a guitar clinic that I attended when I was living in Kansas City. He was a captivating person, a huge presence, with a talent that validates my belief in God and His gifts. Doc’s talent and abilities were not of this world. If you want to see some of this magic, search Doc Watson and “Windy and Warm” or “Tennessee Stud” on YouTube; even if that genre is not your taste in music, you will appreciate the man’s gift. I fear that important pieces of a unique art form may be lost with his passing. Nobody played it like Doc.

Robin Gibb:

I was a white male, “coming of age” in the late seventies, and I didn’t think disco sucked, and I still don’t. Just like Classic Rock, the good Disco tunes have held up well against the test of time. I grew up on rock & roll. I have some great memories associated with Grand Funk Railroad’s catalog, Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” and “Stairway…” and I think Pat Travers’ live rendition of “Boom Boom Out Go the Lights” is rock & roll perfection. However, I thought “Saturday Night Fever” was the coolest thing I had ever seen or heard. Both the movie and the soundtrack were part of a clearly defined turning point in my young, stupid, pointless life. I loved the Bee Gees, (and therefore Robin Gibb) and every other performer on that soundtrack. I still do. (For the record: I’m still a white male, actually much whiter now than I was then – in every sense of the word. But that’s another Chronicle.)

As much as I loved SNF, I don’t think it’s the Bee Gees’ best work. The stuff before, and the stuff after was better. Robin handled a lot of the lead singing chores on their early work, like “I Started a Joke”, and “Massachusetts”. But, for this Large Man’s money, you just can’t do much better than “Jive Talkin”, “Fanny (Be Tender with My Love)”, “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart”, oh baby! “Love You Inside and Out”… it’s probably pointless to go on naming songs – you’re either gonna say, “OH yes! Loved that one!”, or you’re gonna close this page and go back to Facebook, or that site with the two color postcards with women in dresses saying funny things about drinking and how stupid men have become. That’s your choice, and your opinion is respected here in the Large House.

I guess the easiest path to the conclusion of my point, and the best praise I can give to Robin Gibb and the Brothers G would be this: If you liked Bee Gees music, their songs either made you want to get dressed up to go out and shake your butt, or, they inspired you to get undressed and stay in and shake the windows. Either option was nice. Thanks, Robin. Rest in peace.

Donna Summer:

Again, it’s the disco thing, and the whole “coming of age” thing. Disco, and more specifically Donna Summer’s disco, was the soundtrack to this critical period of my life. I cherish the memories and the moments that I can attach to a Donna Summer song; some of those moments weren’t always that great, some were actually kind of sad. But it was life, and I was living it, and she sang the story. (Here’s some inspirational, perfect timing – she’s playing on Pandora as I write this, “Heaven Knows”. Her tunes almost always bring me a smile – even “I Feel Love”, and that is a terrible song.

From the summer of 1978 when the movie “Thank God it’s Friday” introduced the song, until the mid 80’s, if you were at a club and you heard “Last Dance”, you scrambled for someone’s hand to grab and hustle to the dance floor before the intro, slow part, was finished. This was the “last chance for love”. Very rarely did love ever come as a result of that “Last Dance”, but if you got up there in time for those first few bars of the slow jam portion, you got to hold a pretty girl in your arms for a few seconds. Holding a pretty girl in your arms was really the point of it all anyway.

I’ve shared a few tales about this period of my life, and how it was “the best of times and the worst of times”. Completely as a result of my own poor decisions, so no “sob stories” here – I’m the sole owner of the troubled times; my transition to adulthood was hard work. I had no clue about who I was or who I wanted to be, and I was afraid – all the time. I was afraid of the future, afraid of my past, afraid that no one would ever love me forever, unconditionally. I was afraid of myself. Could I finish one class…just one class at the Community College? Would I ever find a job that I was good at, and liked? Could I go a month, just one frickin month, without wrecking a car? Yeah, you could describe a few of these days as “the worst of times.”

But in the best of times, there were places where my friends and I would go to dance (and drink) the night (and fear) away, (I wasn’t the only one afraid, I’m just the only one who blogs about the fear). Donna Summer was always there, 4 or 5 times a night, along with the mirror balls and mirror walls, strobe lights, and cigarette smoke, she filled that space with her powerful, soulful, beautiful voice. The bass and the beat of the drum pounded in your ears, and thumped in your chest…like a heartbeat. Whether we were at our hometown dive, The Silver Fox, or if we were exploring the DC area disco scene – 30 minutes away, she was there, giving us songs to sing, giving us a reason to move, and giving us an opportunity to wrap our arms around each other.

Donna sang “There Will Always Be a You” at the Silver Fox as I danced my last dance with the first “love of my life”. (I’ve had more than one, please don’t judge) I remember how I almost laughed at how appropriate and well-timed the DJ’s song choice had been. My girl was leaving for college in a couple of days, and I was not. Even though she said I was wrong, and that a love like ours would last forever, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. I was like a year and a half older than she was, and even though I wasn’t “college material” I was way smarter than her with regard to the world and the Universe, and the natural order of things. It was a brutal reality for a sensitive, 19-year-old kid to face, and though I didn’t know it at the time, it was a moment, and a lesson, and there is a song attached to it. As with most of the heartbreaking, soul-crushing, boy/girl moments of our youth, it turned out okay. And Donna Summer helped. Well, I guess I should say that she helped me; the college girl probably has no memory of any of it. If she reads this, she’ll probably be thinking, “Whatever, Large Man. If you say so, sounds nice and romantic – tell your story, loverboy! I could be accused of being a bit dramatic with these memories, but they are real.

The passing of these music heroes truly makes me sad, and reminds me (as if I needed another reminder) of our mortality. On the other hand, I feel lucky that we have the ability to listen to those songs any time we want to. Unlike my parent’s generation, we have nice, clear recordings of the songs and artists of our youth. Those songs that are attached to moments – big or small. When you can attach a song to a moment, they are both likely to stay with you forever.

Dim all the lights sweet darling

cause tonight it’s all the way

Turn up the old victrola

gonna dance the night away
Love just don’t come easy

no it seldom does

When you find the perfect love

let it fill you up

Thanks for reading.

In the movie The Way We Were, Robert Redford’s character, Hubbell Gardner, asks his buddies to describe their “best day” as they’re sailing off the coast of Southern California. Even though I hate that movie, I really like that moment in the movie, and the way he raises the question. I think he asks the question about other great days to honor the current great day.

On a side note: I hate the movie because Barbara Streisand’s character, Katie, is so annoying I can’t even bring myself to listen to Evergreen (a great unrelated tune). I hear any Streisand song, and I hear that same voice saying:

“Oh Hubbell, if I push too hard it’s because I want things to be better, I want US to be better, I want YOU to be better. Sure I make waves, you have… I mean you have to. And I’ll keep making them till you’re everything you should be and will be. You’ll never find anyone as good for you as I am, to believe in you as much as I do or to love you as much.”

OHSHUTTHEFUCKUP!

I don’t want to be too douchey here, but please Katie! Believe in me? (Hubbell…or the Large Man) I realize that she wasn’t talking to me, but I’ve dated a few Katies…seriously; women who had ideas about my potential and all that I could be. Trust me; no man needs that shit – that’s why my wife and I get along so well. She knows exactly what I am, and that’s all that I am, and it ain’t that much. My wife and I have accepted, no actually, we have embraced the same disappointment that my parents had to come to terms with back in like `84 or `85. If not for MS Word, I couldn’t even spell potential. KATIE! Don’t paint my man cave with your ideas of ‘everything I should be’.

But I digress, and I could be wrong here; maybe other men like being pushed to their ‘potential’ by an annoying woman who can’t get along with people; let’s get back to Hubbell’s question:

“What’s your best day?”

I have asked that question of my friends for years, along with lots of others; favorite song, moment, female body part, (I’m an ass man), best kiss, favorite movie, best boob scene in a movie, favorite book, food, beer, ice cream, etc. I think these topics stimulate great conversation and lively debate.

Many people are uncomfortable with picking a favorite – usually for one of two reasons: Either they don’t like to expose their soul; as if sharing their favorite day might tell you more about them than they want you to know. Or, they believe that if they pick a favorite anything, it somehow diminishes the second or third on the list. To them, it’s a little bit like asking someone to pick their favorite kid. That’s why it’s usually better to pick a top 5. (For the record, picking a ‘Top 5’ female body parts is a bad idea)

I love discussing ‘life moments’ especially kid moments, probably because being a good Dad is one of the few things in life I really care about. But I have many readers who are not parents, so kid moments might not be universal in appeal. To go ‘universal’, I like a good romance discussion; I love the passion of the moment that comes with a good kiss. To me, a good kiss usually is more about the moment than the act; the memories are about emotion more than the physical technique. (#2 on my kiss list being the exception)

I’ll share my top 5 kid moments, and top 5 kisses:

5 Best Kid Moments:

1. Daughter born…I cried like a little bitch when she was 9 of 10 on the Apgar chart. It also tops the Best Cry list, because I cried without restraint or shame, it felt euphoric.
2. Son born…I cried like a little bitch – I don’t even remember the Apgar. I just remember that he was born like 35 minutes after we walked into the hospital and there were couples there who had been in labor all night. My wife kicked all their asses. I know how wrong it is, thinking like that, but I’m a competitive person…even with my wife’s birth canal.
3. Orlando, FL…My 5 year old daughter asking if we could leave Disney World, and “just go to Hooters” because she was “tired and a little cranky”. Self-awareness in a person is a foundation building block to the Temple of Serenity. My little girl is building something special.
4. My son scoring his first basket…his fist pump, his pride, and his smile made me mist up a little. That vision will never leave me, even though I see it through the blur of my happy tears.
5. Seeing my daughter sing Grenade on video while I played guitar. I couldn’t feel it when we were performing the tune; I was focused on trying to play well. In the video, I see all her potential and all her faith in me. That’s very powerful stuff; I choke up a little whenever I see it.

I notice a crying pattern of which I’m not particularly proud to write about, but my naked soul has been exposed to all you readers since the first time I published, so pride is a relative term.

5 Best kisses:

1. First time I kissed my wife. This is not solicitous or sucking up, or lying to protect myself. You readers have to be able to trust me, and trust that when I say it’s so – it actually is so. And this be ‘so’…

“So are we gonna kiss or what?” I asked. We did. She’ll never admit it, but I crushed her. I took her breath away, and I knew it. Huge confidence builder for me, but at the same time, I knew I was in trouble – I was a bit crushed myself. It’s worked out OK, for me anyway.

Best kiss ever, period, paragraph, done. I never under value how nice that is, because I’ve kissed a few babes in my day – more than my fair share. If that sounds like I’m bragging, it’s probably because I’m bragging. So based on that, I’m very lucky that the first kiss with my wife is the best kiss memory in my Kiss Memory inventory.

2       Page…Prom kiss, my junior year. I thought I was kissing a little girl, a freshman. She didn’t kiss like a little girl…at all. She buckled my knees with that kiss. Thanks Page!

3       Terri…almost every guy in my school wanted to kiss this girl, but at that moment, it was me.

4       Lori…most anticipated kiss of all time, it took months for me to gather up the courage. It shouldn’t have lived up to the expectation, but it did. That was true love’s first kiss…magic.

5       Debbie…bless her heart. She was my first kiss. I will never get to tell her what that ‘first kiss’ meant to me in that moment, and what it meant to who I would become. I’ve heard some disaster stories about first kisses, but my first kiss was about as sweet and magical as one could be.

First Kiss ever I took, stole a page from a romance book. The sky opened and the Earth shook, down on Copperline.    Copperline ~ James Taylor.  

James Taylor wrote that beautiful line for me and Debbie, he just didn’t know it at the time.

These lists are easy for me to share because the people I love know my heart, and they know their place within that heart. These moments, days, songs and kisses…these ‘best of’ lists can never be bigger than the people I care about. Make sense? I can share my favorites, and it diminishes nothing or no one.

My favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird

My favorite song is Into the Mystic

My favorite movie is Joe Versus the Volcano

My favorite food is a taco

My favorite place on earth is the Oregon Inlet Fishing Center on the Outer banks of NC

My favorite beer is the one I’m drinking now

My favorite guitar is my Taylor 410ce

My favorite part of the day is the moment I walk in my door, being attacked by a 100 lb. black lab, a 100 lb. 13-year-old girl, and a 150 lb. 11-year-old boy… and then being gently pecked on the lips by my wife. That moment of my day is the best thing about my life.

My favorite car is a 2003 ice blue Buick Le Sabre

The best job I’ve ever had is the one I have right now

The coolest place I’ve ever seen is The Badlands in South Dakota

My favorite Large Man Chronicle is the last one I wrote…A Dirty Job. Oddly, the least viewed in two years.

My favorite moment of the year is when my best friend, David Bartee, powers up his bullhorn and starts the pre tee-off announcements at our annual GF Grad Golf tournament. The pride and joy that he feels for this event spills out of him, and this has moved me to tears once or twice over the last 5 years, because I get it…I understand his elation – probably better than he does. Dave and the rest of the planning committee gang put their hearts and souls into this event, and it’s great. We have a blast, and when it’s all over we throw a few bucks at a couple of worthy causes…everybody wins. When I’m no longer moved by this moment, I’ll know it’s time to stop making the trip.

I could go on all day, but my favorites won’t mean very much to most of you, and my favorites are not the point. I want you to think about your favorites.

Back to the original question: What’s your best day? I know how I would like for us all to be able to answer that question, because I just recently came to realize my true answer.

A friend of mine shared a great cartoon with me a couple of days ago, and it was the inspiration for this Chronicle:

Pooh and Piglet are walking through the snow holding hands, and the caption reads:

“What day is it?” asked Pooh.

“It’s today!” squealed Piglet.

“That’s my favorite day!” said Pooh.

The friend who shared this with me has spent the last year beating breast cancer. She administered this ass-whooping by combining aggressive chemo and radiation treatment, with courage and a lot of faith. This was no picnic, and today she’s ahead of the game. Today is Cindy’s ‘favorite day’.

I have another friend who is taping up his knuckles, and wrapping his wrists; gloving up to enter his second bout with cancer. He has already gone through a 15 round, knock-down, drag-out, fight…and won. He fought more than anyone should have to, and he’s had 4 years of remission to enjoy the win. He knows what tomorrow has in store for him, and he’s ready, and I believe with all of my heart that he’s going to win again. And I know what Jerry’s favorite day is too.

My friends, Jerry, Cindy, and Pooh, all have the same ‘Best Day’, and now, I do too.

I hope today ends up being your best day.

Thanks for reading,

The Large Man

PS…I’m still a few weeks away from The American Cancer Society’s Relay For Life. If you would like to take part in an opportunity to give someone else a chance at another birthday, please go to my fundraising website at:

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY12National?px=28316886&pg=personal&fr_id=37520

Or send me an email at thelargeman@gmail.com

I have a job to do, and I don’t like it. It’s fundraising season. I’m doing the Relay for Life event for the American Cancer Society again this year, and while I find parts of the task quite rewarding; overall, it sucks.

I don’t like asking people for money for anything; I don’t even like splitting checks for dinner. I’m never comfortable asking for “that twenty I loaned you”. I think a lot of people feel that way. I won’t even ask people for money for beer – that’s right, I said beer. Is there anything that doesn’t walk or wear a thong that I love more than beer? No there isn’t. My friends, neighbors and co-workers, even my wife and kids will back me up on this: If we’re on a golf trip, if we’re at the beach, if I come back to town from a far off land that has a beer we may not have tried before, wherever we are, and whatever we’re doing, if I have beer, then so do you. If you’re with me – it’s yours. If I have only one left – we’ll split it! I don’t want your money; I don’t want your I.O.U. I just want your company, your opinion on this magic nectar of the gods, and I want you to let me tell a story. That’s all I want.

It’s not because I’m wealthy and don’t need money, or that I don’t like money…I need it, and I love having it. I just received a bonus at work, and while I don’t want to get too cozy here, let’s just say I was a little concerned that I might have to contact my doctor because of a condition that lasted for ‘more than 4 hours’. If I have a lot of cash when I’m traveling, sometimes, at night when the land is dark and I’m all alone, I draw the curtains, put Pandora on the Sade channel, and I scatter that cash across the textured white duvet on my bed at the luxurious Hampton Inn, then I take off all my clothes and roll around on it like Demi Moore did in that movie she made with that dude from Cheers.

Now I’m going to give you a minute to let that mental image steep in your brain cells.

You’re welcome.

I love money as much as anybody; I just don’t like asking for it.

But on the other hand, I don’t like hearing about another friend who has been affected by cancer. I don’t like watching a family of friends, people who have changed my life in the most positive of ways, suffering today, through the same things that I experienced just a year ago. I don’t like seeing the strained look on the faces of people I care about as we try to focus on other things. I don’t like being afraid to make eye contact with them because I just don’t know what to say about the things that they are going through, because even though I’ve been down that road too, no two journeys are the same.

I don’t like driving from San Antonio to Hutto and not being able to call my Mom and tell her about all the cool stuff I’m seeing. I don’t like looking at the letter M on my Blackberry and thinking about who that speed dial is for, and knowing that I’ll never be able to erase that contact, but also knowing that I’ll never use it again. It breaks my heart to think about how these things have affected my kids because they had to experience them at such a young age.

And…while I’m pretty good at making people laugh, I pretty much suck at comforting people in despair. I would rather make them smile about something stupid I’ve done, something funny that I saw, or just because I like to bring a little cheer – not because they need cheering up.

I hate all that shit, but on the other hand, I don’t mind asking for help. This is kind of a contrast to my Large Man persona – I don’t know why, but even though I have testosterone levels higher than the East German women’s swim team from the ’84 Olympics, it has never bothered me to stop and ask directions if I’m lost. It has never been a big deal for me to ask someone to show me how to do something. I think I embraced the fact that I was limited in ability, drive, and intellect at a very early age, so that ownership and self-awareness has always made it easy for me to ask someone to give me a hand.

And, of course, I don’t mind helping someone else; probably because while my intellect is limited, my memory is actually quite sharp. I can remember all the people who have helped me through the years, and a lot of times I feel like I can honor their help by paying it forward and helping others. I really enjoy helping someone in need…I think most of us do.

I also don’t mind going to battle. Most of you Large Man readers only know The Large Man to be a strong and valiant world traveler with a whimsical, peaceful nature, a pure and loving heart, whose only real weaknesses are pretty girls, craft brews, and chicken wings (ok, so maybe we can drop the ‘pure’)…I am all those things, but I’m a fighter too.  When I face or observe tyranny or injustice, baby, I’ll throw down at the drop of a hat. If you don’t believe me, mess with my family, or my friends, co-workers, or random acquaintances, or be disrespectful to women or to children or the elderly in my presence and see what you get! Display that bully behavior in front of me and you would have a more enjoyable afternoon as the centerpiece on a pygmy cannibal tribe’s picnic table. I don’t really know if there is such a thing as a ‘pygmy cannibal tribe’, but just imagine it for the sake of the point. I’m not afraid to fight for what’s right and just.

I don’t like fundraising because I don’t like asking for money. I will take part in this year’s Relay for Life because I like to fight for people who need help. I will camp out and walk around that relay track for as long as it takes because I can, and I’m going to ask my Large Man friends to help if you can.

I think this is the only way I can rationalize doing this dirty job that I don’t like – this asking for money thing. I’m going to tell myself that I’m not asking for donations (even though I really am), I’m just asking for help. I’m asking for my army of Large Man Chronicles readers to help me fight for hope.  It won’t make me miss my Mom any less; it doesn’t make my friend Rock miss his Dad any less. I’m sure it doesn’t make you miss your loved ones any less… but it just might make us all feel a little bit better for the fight. Let’s fight for the people who are being bullied by this disease today. Let’s fight to honor the memory of those we have lost, and let’s fight to honor the people who have won their battle with cancer, and let’s celebrate the hope that their triumph gives to all of those fighting today. As I said earlier, I’ll fight at the drop of a hat…so let’s drop the hat, let’s fight. I don’t think I’m the only fighter reading this Chronicle.

If you can help me fight, please go to my relay web page and see what others have done, and please think about what you might be able to do. Or, get involved in a fight in your community. Just fight.

My personal fundraising web page is:

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?px=28316886&pg=personal&fr_id=37520

No amount is too little; no amount is showing off… just give til it feels good.

Thank you for reading, and thanks for your help.

The Large Man