Warning: it is very difficult to determine that the phone is a 1606 because Nokia has obliterated all incriminating markings. They have had every chance to replace the phone at their own expense with something that works but have repeatedly failed to do so. If I’d had the presence of mind, you’d see a picture today of the lovely Mila, who rented the room a year ago. She was by for coffee during the afternoon and reports some interesting turns of events. For example, I didn’t know her ex-husband owned the home over behind Carlos’ place. It is now hers and for sale. She is a fan of the way I make coffee. She was with her son.
We talked music, and in an inspired moment, had the three of us playing rock, blues and country. It was a flashback for me because her son is now 13. He is clearly a lot bigger, city-wise and more mature than I ever was at that stage, not to mention he has all the support and encouragement needed. Yet the fact stands that I personally, with formidable opposition, single-handedly create a rock band at the same age. I didn’t say just start the band, but created it from thin air, using non-musicians.
We were called “All The Kings Men” (nothing to do with several other bands of the same name). I didn’t realize it at the time, but the efforts of managing a five piece group required all the energy I could muster. Although I taught the guitarist how to play guitar and the bassist how to play bass, they easily outdistanced what I could do and went into rebellion mode. At that point we never learned another new tune right up until the band split up after graduation.
By then, the other musicians were denying that I was the catalyst that got things moving. The bassist denies that I was his teacher; the guitarist maintains that although he never touched music before meeting me, that “it was all inevitable”. Interestingly, this band is still together, and still playing much the same music I taught them. That always brings out a smile, wondering what might they have done if they’d been listening instead of talking. I hear they’ve since tried everything from punk to recording with zero success. Seems to be a management problem at the management level, n’yuck n’yuck.
I spent the entire day on maintenance, including repairs to tire pumps, garden hoses, spark plug cables, ink cartridge syringes, bathing trunks and shoe liners. One thing still broken is the jack on my Danelectro bass. It requires solder and I cannot find a soldering iron that gets hot enough to melt the alloy. I have one of those Benz-O-matic butane torches, a real expensive piece of shit. It never gets hot and it is not compatible with any of the six nozzles that come with a standard butane refill cylinder. What a rip-off.
Which is about when Mila came to the door. My, but she is a raven-haired beauty. We have a date next Saturday. I’m about to give some details here that will interest my long-term acquaintances. Mila is moving out west and that means I’ll have an economical place to stay when I head back myself. There is someone I would like to stop in and visit after twenty years. One of my first jobs out of high school was working in the orchards of that area. It’s a small world. Mila’s brother has a place in Yakima, Washington.
