LARRY DONN writes for Now Dig This
ROCKABILLY DAYS ON THE INTERNET
Many of my past and current 'Rockabilly Days' stories are availible on
the internet at www.deltaboogie.com/rockabillydays through the efforts
of Vivian Heyl, who, with husband "Hairy" Larry Heyl, presents the
annual Blues-Fest here the first weekend of each September. For several
years she has been inserting my columns into the "deltaboogie" site, and
has recently established a special 'Rockabilly Days' section. If I
understand it correctly, you can type in the above address and you will
go directly to the "rockabillydays" part of the "deltaboogie" site,
without having to risk encountering a picture of some ugly musician
before you get to me.
Other information and such that you might find interesting can be found
at www.deltaboogie.com/deltamusicians, including pictures of me suitable
for printing, framing and placing in your shrine.
* * * * * * *
SAVED There is a short story that you might find interesting, though I
should have told it long before now. Several months ago, Rob Glazebrook
of The Playboys, and lately of The Houserockers, and his talented wife,
Manuela, came for a week's visit to our house. On a Tuesday night,
they were sitting in with my band at a dance at the local senior
citizens' centre... a "geezer gig", as one musician called it... and a
good time was being had by all. Then I saw Joe Smith slide out of his
chair and hit the floor. Someone waved us to stop playing, and we did.
Rob and I walked over to Joe and I felt his pulse. It was verry weak
and erratic, and he was breathing only in occasional short gasps. Then
his heart stopped beating altogether and his face began to turn blue.
Rob began pumping on his chest, and in a few seconds the blue went away.
A minute or two later, the ambulance guys showed up and shocked him a
few times to get his heart beating. He was hauled off to the hospital,
only a couple of blocks away, and an hour later, someone called and said
"they" didn't think he was going to live through the night. Baloney, I
said. I've known Joe Smith for a long time, and he's tough. He'll make
it, I told them. And he did. In about a month or so, he was back
leaping about the dance floor, and has been there almost every night
Did Rob's heart massage save his life? Probably not. He was only
unconscious about five minutes before the medics arrived, but it may
have saved him some brain damage, as the brain begins to deteriorate
after about 3 minutes without oxygen.
I asked Joe how much of that night he remembered. He said he didn't
remember any of it. "I went to sleep and woke up in the hospital three
weeks later", he said. I guess if you're going to have a heart attack,
that's the way to do it.
* * * * * * *
BLUES SINGERS There was once a black blues singer who called himself
Blind Lemmon Jefferson. That set me to wondering why a perfermor would
want to add a disability to his name. Then there is the "Lemon" part...
could any parent actually name his son "Lemon"? Especially since
no-good cars are called "lemons". Seems to me that couple set the kid up
for a lifetime of emotional problems. Then there is the last name...
the name of an American president, and I don't have a problem with that,
but if this should catch on... it will be overdone, as humans tend to
over-do everything. At some point in the future, blues fan might be
enjoying music by Lame Apricot Washington, Tongue-Tied Eggplant Johnson
or Soreback Cucumber Kennedy. They may even include unseen ailments as
well as seen... Spastic-Colon Tomato Roosevelt or Constipated Beet
Jackson. Then there are the mental disabilities... Ignorant Lime Van
Buren or Retarded Onion Lincoln; and the social disabilities...
Disadvantaged Grapefruit Grant, Poor Pomegranate Adams or
Underprivilaged Orange Coolidge; and possibly attitudes... Asinine Kiwi
Monroe, Angry Watermelon Truman or Cynical Potato Eisenhower.
This could even spread to multiple disabilities... Blind, Deaf, Lame and
Retarted Kumquat Reagan or Stupid Crude and Foul-Mouthed Orange Nixon.
Then, of course, there is Horny, Indescreet, Stupid - To - Have - A -
Fling - With - A - Girl - Named - Monica - While - He's - Being -
Investigated Kumquat Clinton, but that's another story.
* * * * * * *
Okay, since I brought up the name, and since I wrote a couple of stories
extrolling his merits, I must confess that I am extreamly disappointed
with Bill Clinton. I was his biggest fan until he lied to us about his
affair with the girl named Monica. I can't condone an American
presidant lying to the people who supported him, and I think it was
incredibly stupid to have done what he did while the subject of an
investigation which included charges of extramarital affairs.
I don't have a problem with what he did, just that he had the poor
judgement to do it while the opposition was investigating him, however
expensive (something over 40 million dollars, most of which went into
the pockets of the so called "Special Investigator" Kenneth Starr, who
is less than human, in my opinion) the investigation might have been. In
any case, I am no longer a Bill Clinton fan, and I will be quite happy
when he is no longer president. I think we deserve better, and I never
really liked his saxaphone playing, anyway.
* * * * * * *
DOUBLE-NAUGHT? If time continues to pass with the increasing rapidity
of the past few years, the year 2000 will be showing up next month. I'm
sure you've heard about the expected problems with many computers that
will not recognize the year 2000 and may go dotty with frustration. The
race is on to re-program all the computers in the world before old
"double-naught" shows up.
When it arrives, and in the years after, how will we refer to the year
2000? I've often said "...back in '59...", but it doesn't work with two
zeros. Oh-oh? Naught-naught? Perhaps some hundred-plus years old
person will tell us how they did it in the last double-naught year. And
what about the single digit years? Shoud we say back in naught-three,
oh-three, or just three? Let me know if you find out.
A related and perhaps interesting note: Most every school child knows
that the years of history are divided into two parts called B.C. and
A.D., but I'd bet there aren't many, at least in America, who know what
the letters mean. In 532 A.D., a monk named Dionysius Exiguus (a
wonderful name for your next child) took it upon himself to devise a
system for dating world events. He made the division, using what he
believed to be the birth year of Jesus Christ as the dividing point.
B.C. means "before Christ" and A.D. means "anno Domini", which is Latin
for "the year of our Lord".
Many great celebrations are being planned for New Year's Eve of '99,
though the next millenium, or thousand years, doesn't actually begin
until 2001. Of course, people will use any excuse to have a party, and
this way, they can have two... one to celebrate the start of the last
year of the second millennium, and another a year later to celebrate the
start of the next thousand years.
We don't know if Dionysius Exiguus knew the exact year Jesus was born.
Bible scholars cannot agree on a year, and guesses have been offered
ranging from about four years before to four years after the date D.E.
decided upon. With this in mind, one can see that the year the world
celebrates as the 2000th since the birth of Jesus may not be the correct
year at all, as it could be anywhere from '96 to '03. That certainly
throws a kink into "end-of-the-world" to the year. If the "end of the
world" was set to occur in the 2000th year, it may have allready
happened. In which case, I'm not really writing this, and you're not
really reading it. Of course, you may not be reading it anyway, but if
you don't read it, you may never know what it says. Happy 2000, whenever