Falling down and getting up at Gem City movement

HEADS UP, SAM McElvie. I'm coming to your class this week. You'll get a workout too, from laughing at my lack of mobility and falling down. You've seen it before.

Sam just opened Gem City Movement at Eighth and State in Calftown. She had an open house Saturday morning, and the place looks amazing.

The thought of going to a fitness center or gym can be intimidating. Gem City Movement is anything but intimidating. Everybody is invited and everybody can do it. The idea is to move, however much you can. Or, in my case, can't.

Actually I'm in decent shape right now, mostly from walking six-plus miles a day as a courier for Blessing. I'm trying to eat better. And I quit drinking, a huge reason.

I don't know Sam that well but I have immense respect for her, and she is one of the few people I follow on social media. A while back she wrote about her decision to not drink anymore, and it resonated. It's not about having a problem or getting a DUI or relying on it to get through the day - it's all about not feeling like crap after you drink.

Haven't missed it a bit.

Saturday morning at her studio, I was talking to Judge Tad Brenner, himself a great story about moving and coming back from a serious injury. Sam came up and made a joke about me being so tall. I told her I can't jump or move that well so it all evens out.

"Oh, I've seen you fall off a stage. You can move," she said.

True. She's referring to the legendary YWCA lip-sync contest, which our little group won, by the way. It was worth busting up the ribs and it was all for a good cause - I showed Sam the photos of my rib cage a few days after the event and even she was impressed.

This morning I'm reminded why I do need to move more. We had glorious Prospect Road gigs over the weekend - Saturday night we played a private 50th birthday party, and Sunday afternoon we were at the Dock.

The party was just that - a party. Like most it took a while but once they dove in, it was chaos. On Sunday the Dock was packed and we seemed to hit a groove. 

I am not responsible for my own behavior at gigs, especially with a wireless guitar. People say I move around a lot. I have no idea. It's just part of playing. But this morning, it's slow glowing, and it will probably be worse tomorrow. 

It used to be a lot easier a few years ago. At 61, it won't get easier. So ... I need to do things like go to Sam's "Mobility + Core by CIRCL" class this week. Who cares if it sounds like she's going to kill us all? "It's just a lot of getting up and down," she said.

That's it. I need help getting up and down. I fall down. A lot. And if I'm trying to read the directions on my new electric mower, I have to bend down and take off my glasses and I end up on my knees, and it's a lot of work to get back up. You try being 5-foot-19.

Sam? I'm ready to move. 

You'd better be ready to help me back up, if needed. 

 

Golf naps and games on the radio

 YOU CAN TRY to relive childhood. But age always catches up.

Always.

I followed the NCAA basketball tournaments, both men and women. But the men's Final Four wasn't on network television. I understand that cable networks pay gazillions to show the games, but I'm not subscribing to Tru TBS Lame-A-Vision for one weekend. Sling is one of the choices for cable - it's a gigantic ripoff, and I don't watch it enough.

So I found the men's Final Four semifinal game between Michigan and Arizona on the radio. Actually, online. And it took me back. 

When I was a kid, before running water and electricity, I listened to the radio all the time. I remember finding Montreal Canadiens hockey games on French radio when we lived in Montreal, circa the early 70s. I could sort of follow along.("LaFleur ... Il tire, il marque!"). Even in high school, the legendary Detroit Tigers announcers Ernie Harwell and Paul Carey were the soothing summer night sounds often lulling me into Zs.

I managed to listen to most of the Michigan blowout win. Monday night, Michigan played UConn in the national title game, and I planned to listen to the second half.

But I fell asleep. So I woke up at 4 a.m. and found out what happened. Ah, the joys of being 61.

Yesterday was the Masters golf tournament and the compelling tale of Rory McElroy going after his second straight green jacket. Prospect Road had a riot Saturday night at The Club Tavern, and Sunday was busy until about 4, so I was dead tired.

I finally collapsed on the couch, turned on the TV, and saw five or six players who had a chance to win. So what did I do?

I immediately fell asleep. At least Coco had a lap for one of her 39 daily naps. 

I was in and out the entire back nine, which is kind of the way I play golf too, now that you mention it.

Way to go Rory. I got a good nap. I went to bed at 9 and read and was out by 9:30.

Of course, falling asleep and staying asleep are two different things. Another story for another day.

Nap on, old man. Maybe I'll try to find a Blue Jays or Tigers game online tonight.

 

creature of unhabit

 IT'S SAID WE are creatures of habit. I'm a creature of unhabit.

I have been neglecting this blog. I don't know why. I really don't have much to say anymore. I'm just a former newspaper and music store guy who picks up labs for a living. I've had a lot of adventures. If asked, I'll tell you all about them. But I'm not a Web Warrior who thinks he's better than anybody else.

So ... I've been quiet.

When I wrote columns and stories for The Whig, I cared about what people would think. The better the subject the better the product, but .... reaction was motivation.

Now? It's live and let live. Unless you are an idiot. 

I gotta get back to the habit of writing, if only to please a few people. Or not please them. 

This past weekend, I got out of the unhabit. Namely, I cleaned. What? 

I have three upstairs rooms. One serves as a spare bedroom. The other two are just .... rooms with stuff. 

My brother Steve and his son Riley are coming this summer for a visit. I'm going to need another bedroom. And another bed. Wait ... that's another blog idea.

See? Getting out of unhabits is starting to work.

I had a rare Saturday off - no guitar lessons, no gig that night. So I trudged upstairs and I cleaned out the big junk room.

I only hit my head on the ceiling fan twice. I only cursed breaking a bookcase once. Actually, five times. Getting out of unhabits can lead to bad habits. But I'll take it.

I threw away five or six big empty cardboard boxes. Actually, I took them to the recycle place. I filled two garbage bags with useless stuff. Hey! Another blog idea! What is useless, and what isn't?

In about two hours, the room was empty. I even (gasp) vacuumed. Please don't tell anybody.

I put everything in the smaller of the two junk rooms. It's stacked and organized. I won't be able to find anything. But it's ... there.

Later Saturday, I moved some music stuff upstairs to the empty room. It's going to be Riley's Room, but for now, it's Uncle Rotknee's Guitar Tone Chasing Lab. I'm having a ball.

I'm out of the habit of ignoring a project. And, believe it or not, I just bought an electric lawnmower and used it for the first time yesterday.

But that's another blog for another day. If I can get back in the habit.

 

 

 

Prayers for Justin Haubrich and family

 LOCAL MUSICIAN JUSTIN Haubrich passed away Friday night after an ATV accident on family property in Missouri. He was 37. He leaves a wife and four young sons. 

Devastating.

I do not claim to be great friends with Justin or know him that well. But I do know this - he was one of the best musicians around. 

Justin played in the amazing band El Gentlemen. Nobody can touch them for what they do- classic rock and party music. They play songs other bands can only dream of doing. 

Justin was the guitar player. He was a shredder but he also could ... play. I'd watch him at Octoberfest and Mayfest and I'd want to throw my guitars into the river. He was also a great sax player. 

Sadly, his family has been through this before. Justin's brother Zak passed away years ago after a vehicle crash. The annual celebration of Zak's life at The Dock was always one of Quincy's biggest and best shows. 

 Justin was also a good Second String Music customer and we were always glad to see him when he came in to buy strings. He'd always talk about how crazy his life was with little kids. But you could tell he loved it.

A few years ago I was playing with Prospect Road at a garage party. Justin was there. He was good friends with our singer, Alicia. We took a break and Justin asked if he could play a few songs with Alicia and maybe somebody else.

I just remember thinking when he got done that my guitar never sounded that good when I played it.

At the end of the night he gave me a big hug and thanked me for letting him jam. 

That was Justin. 

I have the song Heartbeat City by The Cars swirling around in my head and I can't stop thinking about Justin's parents, wife, sons, friends, bandmates.

His death is a massive hole that will never be covered up. Never. And we will never understand it. 

Peace and prayers to you, Justin. You were one of the best. 

 

 

Hanging with great kids at JWCC

 LAST WEEK MY friend Mike Terry invited me to speak to one of his classes. I've done it many times before but this was the first time in a few years.

And, like the other times, it was a great experience.

Mike teaches at John Wood Community College. In his writing class, he requires students to pick a person to interview and then write a story about them. So we talk about the interview process, how to ask the right questions, how to prepare, how to put together the story. 

We started talking about my 24 years in journalism, and suddenly the questions came fast and furious. Who was the most famous person you've interviewed? Has anybody tried to intimidate you during an interview? What was the worst thing you saw as a reporter? What was the best?

Well. You Can't Make It Up, the stuff I saw in my day as a crime and courts reporter. 

My journalism career ended in 2012 and the more time goes by, the faster it fades when looking in the rear view mirror.

But talking to the kids made me realize it really was an interesting job. The hour flew by and I had to get to work but we could have spent more time talking about journalism and life.

I am around young people a lot in my job as a Blessing courier. I wonder about some of them in this day and age of ChatGPT and AI and the inability to look up from a cellphone or screen. 

But then I go to Mike Terry's class, and I see young people being respectful and actually taking an interest in an old burned-out newspaper guy. You know what?

They are likely to do great things.

Thank you, Mike. The kids in your class are awesome. I'm sure they will find great people to interview and write stories about. Maybe I helped them a bit, but in truth, I probably got more out of it than they did. 

 

  

Past New Year's Eves

 THE OLDER YOU get the faster time flies. Here we are, ready to kiss 2025 goodbye.

How do you celebrate?

NYE celebrations have varied. My father used to gather us a few minutes before midnight and read a bible passage, then be in prayer as the clock ticked to midnight. Needless to say that method of ushering in the new year changed. A lot.

One year I was working at a restaurant in Grand Rapids (Mountain Jacks) and we all had to work. It was a party for everybody, but not us in that awful hot kitchen. A year or two later we gathered in a field behind the Rosewood house in Grand Rapids and had a huge bonfire during a blizzard. THAT was a great way to welcome a new year. We had pallets and Christmas trees from Kingmas that wooshed up into flames. Somebody called the fire department, but they simply drove up the street, took a look, and headed back to the station.

In the early years of married and family life it settled down ... eventually. One year in Alpena we had Grand Rapids friends drive up on NYE and then tore it down somewhere in town. But it became just another night, until the band thing started really kicking in.

We had some righteous Cheeseburger shows at the Elks and One in Quincy. Maye we were in Keokuk one year? The mind and memory betray us and play tricks. If I wasn't playing, I was surely in bed by 10 as usual.

In 2019 HartLyss played on NYE at the late and great Revelry in Quincy. Again, the memory isn't that great but I recall Cori and I and our old drummer Lincoln Lieber really clicking and kicking butt. Little did we know that 2020 would change everything. Man .... 

Last year I cobbled together a band and played at The Club and it was fun, but it was really hard to function the next day. Also, today is the one year anniversary of my last alcoholic beverage, a milestone to be sure. Pretty proud of that one and it's one of the best things I've ever done, the whole quitting drinking thing.

It's actually become a thing to have a party on New Year's Day, of all things. A year ago Prospect Road played at Shorteez's On The Hill in Clayton, and I couldn't believe all the people packed into the place for an afternoon gig. 

Guess what? Prospect Road gets to do it again tomorrow at the same venue. So tonight I'll get off of work, come home, make sure Coco gets some quality time in front of the space heater, and I'll be sawing logs by 10. 

Gotta rest up for the big new New Year's Day tradition, you know.