"Harry, It SUCKS!"

[captainsblog]

That somehow became a term of endearment between Harry Chapin and his fans, originating in his Greatest Stories Live rendition of "30,000 Pounds of Bananas" and the numerous alternate endings he came up for it. He came to mind over the weekend when I found my college yearbook in the cellar. After looking up "Link" (as in The Missing One), depicted there with his quintessentially 80s porn-star 'stache, I flipped through some of the other pages. A fairly small section was devoted to concerts; they must have been just senior year events, because while I remember star-studded performances earlier from Springsteen and Ronstadt, the Police and the Dead (missed them all) as well as Joe Jackson and Bram Tsaichovsky (did see them), they only listed a few, and only one of them merited a two-page spread for his performance, which would have almost certainly been the last time before his untimely death that he performed at his alma mater- and which, sadly, I also missed, having seen him in Binghamton three years before, with my sister at what may have been my first-ever concert not held in a school auditorium with me in the band or chorus:



Thanks to the Sun's online archives, I was able to confirm the date and place of that show- November 8, 1980, the night before my 21st birthday, and in the acoustically lovely Bailey Hall rather than the Barton barnyard used for the larger shows. The double-picture page screwed up when I scanned it, leading to the arty effect on the bottom one; the time-lapse in the second one was as it appeared in the yearbook. I linked groups of his fans, as well as his daughter Jen who I'm friends with, to those pictures.

After that on Sunday, it was off to a park trip. The ducks don't seem to mind the cooler weather....



.... and the colors are definitely changing....




Ursula started our visit diving into the pond after some form of critter- here she's still looking a little damp after getting toweled off....




....and it looks like WALL-E's been working out!





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He's not the only one.

Since Friday, I've done three workouts between the two local gym locations that have reopened. Today's was the first that was back to the full length of close to an hour, which they could do since it was the last one of the morning; the others have been shorter 45-minute sessions to allow more time for cleaning in between classes. None of the groups I've been in have had more than 10 participants, and five and six are more typical attendances. (The studios are designed to handle between 28 and 42 participants at once, so this is a major restriction for them, still.) I've seen very few people I remember from The Before Times, and last night I got sad news about one I do remember with genuine affection from back then; Eleanor and I finally put S and S together and it sucks.

A few days ago, she told me of learning of the death of one of her longtime OBGYNs, who she knew and referred to often as "Sheri B." Just last night she mentioned that Sheri, in bad shape last time she saw her in the store, was probably the last person she spontaneously hugged at her workstation pre-Covid. I also knew an OBGYN named Sheri- we often did noon and late afternoon classes at Orangetheory- and I realized I hadn’t seen her there, or any posts of hers on Facebook, in months. She went by a different last name in classes- that of her former husband, I now know- and I never asked if she was Eleanor's doctor, since it seemed presumptuous to assume there could be only one OBGYN with that name in a town this big.

But the obituary of Eleanor's Sheri B quickly confirmed that my Sheri was her Sheri- and she passed in April, leaving twin daughters and a remarkable legacy. At least one mutual friend has passed along amazing stories of her dedication and kindness to people well outside her circles of residence and practice. The Sheri I knew was funny, and kind, and loved her family.

Harry would agree- it sucks:P

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One more suckage before some nicelies: either because the weather was really rainy and windy or because a galoot or two got loose on our street last night, our lawn sign was gone this morning:



I drove around the block a few times to see if it had blown away, with no sign of it- more than one fake Halloween headstones were littering the sidewalk, though- as well as to see if any of its twins had been ripped off (so far, not). My Facebook reaction was immediate: there are still more of us. And we will not be stolen into silence:P

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On the bright side, I wrote a song. You probably know the tune:

♫There was an old man who swallowed a vi
I don’t know why he swallowed that vi
Perhaps he’ll die.

There was an old man who swallowed some bleach
That’s quite a reach, to swallow some bleach!
He swallowed the bleach to catch the vi
And I don’t know why he swallowed that vi
Perhaps he’ll die.

There was an old man who swallowed some hydroxychloroquine
(Come on, nothing rhymes with that- especially not reason!)
He swallowed that stuff to help the bleach
He swallowed the bleach to catch the vi
And I don’t know why he swallowed that vi
Perhaps he’ll die.

There was an old man who swallowed some Fox
If you buy their bull then your head’s full of rocks!
He listened to Fox who sold him that stuff
He swallowed that stuff to help the bleach
He swallowed the bleach to catch the vi
And I don’t know why he swallowed that vi
Perhaps he’ll die.

There was an old man who went for a ride
Come on, if you’re sick get your butt back inside!
He went for the ride for his toadies at Fox
He listened to Fox who sold him that stuff
He swallowed that stuff to help the bleach
He swallowed the bleach to catch the vi
And I don’t know why he swallowed that vi
Perhaps he’ll die.

There was an old man who swallowed a horse
On it ridin’ was Biden, who beat him of course!
(Six feet away, wearing mask….)
He swallowed the horse when he finished his ride
He went for the ride for his toadies at Fox
He listened to Fox who sold him that stuff
He swallowed that stuff to help the bleach
He swallowed the bleach to catch the vi
And I don’t know why he swallowed that vi….
Ask President BI
(DEN!)♫

Couldn't work in the "spider that wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside," but I like arachnids too much for that, anyway.

Also singing to the Regime's Nazi-in- Chief who just tested positive:

♫Ven der Cheeto says, ve is der Master Race,
Sing WOMP! WOMP! right in Der Cheeto's face!♫

And I was going to try one inspired by Dear Leader's balcony appearance the other night, but apparently that's already been done:

Watch on YouTube

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And, of course, there'll be sport:

The Bills pulled off a nice win late Sunday afternoon over the Oakland Los Angeles Oakland Las Vegas Raiders, which brought back memories of the glory days of 1990 (Just Win 51-3, Baby!), but an email we got later that night went back a little more in time and a lot more in heart:

On the weekend of our anniversary, I’d sent a photo from our wedding, 33 years ago last weekend-



-to our best man from the ceremony, who we're still close to (and his wife, who I've both known for over 40 years) but who don't do the Face thing. He replied with this, which gives me far more feels than even a 4-0 record to start the season:

Our memories of that day so long ago are wonderful to recall. When we talk about our wedding experiences with others, we refer to yours as the best we ever attended, rich in ritual, grace, simplicity, and love.

Ours was also a fairly small service and reception, which is proof for several  brides we know from this past summer who have done it small and distanced and right in these times, that you don't need to fill a cathedral or a huuge banquet hall to have a meaningful wedding or the even more important meaningful marriage.

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Our entertainment of the week so far:

-Love and Basketball, from 2000 but still timely as it depicts both NBA and WNBA dreams struggling to come through in difficult times;

-My library download of Anxious People, the latest novel from Frederik Backman, the Swedish author of A Man Called Ove which we loved watching in film adaptation, and after which, by dumb luck, I found the DVD of an earlier adaptation of yet another Backman book. Despite a major subplot involving soccer and a character named Omar (who I did not sign;), it proved to be an incredibly sweet and funny story of a woman finding a new path for her life which she so richly deserves, which takes her to an actual Swedish town named Borg. Watch this film. Resistance is futile. And stay for the closing number over the credits- it's one of our favorite songs:)

- And, of course, the dog trying to dig up Halloween skulls:



Alas, poor Yorick, I KNEW he didn't have treats!

(We're watching Zoey for signs of a downturn, unfortunately. That would be the ultimate 2020 suck on top of all the rest.)

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ETA. I was a little vague about what the "mutual friend" had to say about Sheri, because I wanted her permission to share the specifics. I now have it. The writer is one of the trainers at OTF who I've been friends with for some time, but her connection to Dr. B went much deeper:

Sheri was a freaking rock star. She was also a close friend of our family and helped out when my mom and father both had terminal cancer. She orchestrated neighborhood drop offs with food and assisted with friendly gestures of love along the way. She was an amazing woman and I was so sad to also hear of her passing. Xo

Rarely, these days, does a day go by without us hearing of someone passing- whether famous or just in passing to us, whether from COVID or anything else. I'm sure everyones' immunity is being severely tested in these times. I know of few who were that kind and generous in peoples' remembrances of them. We should all leave such legacies.