I Luv Ludington

Just got back from a massive Michigan road trip, and I do believe I've seen the best Gus Macker Tournament yet.

Ludington is located on Lake Michigan about an hour north of Muskegon. It is a beautiful town with a huge summer tourist season, all because of that big hole in the ground full of water.

People around here just sort of give me a blank look when I tell them about Lake Michigan beaches. There's really nothing around here to compare it to — let's face it, swimming in the Mississippi River is like taking a toxic waste bath.

Anyway, Ludington has its Macker in a big park right in front of a mile-long beach near downtown. I had sound stage duty and I literally looked over the Top Men's and Top Women's Courts to see the beach and the lake sparkling under sunny skies. It was warm but we had a breeze the whole time, and the local organizing committee couldn't have been better to work with. Both Saturday and Sunday afternoons I jumped in the lake to cool off. On Sunday I took over a court after we had some parent troubles and I did five or six games with 13-14 year old boys and everybody was great. Before the final game I got my suit on and ran into the lake to cool off, then officiated the championship game and it was a beautiful thing.

To put it politely, the scenery was, uh, spectacular. And, like Forrest Gump puts it, "That's all I'm gonna say about that."

Man, I just had SO MUCH FUN. I got to run my mouth into a microphone and be silly and I actually got paid to do it ... actually there's a lot more to it, with such a big tournament we were busy making announcements ("Bill from Saginaw, your ride is leaving NOW" or "D-Town Baller to Court Red E NOW"). We charged $1 for birthday and good luck announcements, and we gave away more than $100 to the skate board park project and the HELP (Hands Extended Loving People) program. The vendors kept bringing us incredible food and I made friends with Chris Boykins and his Outlawz team from Lansing, great guys (and Pam, too!).

This tournament has 900 teams and 60 courts, similar in size to our Quincy tournament. That's a lot of volunteers and a lot of hard work to plan and execute a a big tournament. There were a few minor issues and the usual three or four idiots who made trouble, but I think playing by the beach has a calming affect and personally, except for one moronic parent, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

I was sad to leave the sound stage Sunday night. It was two of the best days I've ever spent, and I hope I can go back next year.

Sammy Remembered

Finished with my guitar parts tonight at The Copper Mine. Larry starts his guitar and keyboard work next week. I'm heading to Michigan tomorrow night after the H-W Demons softball game, working for Gus at the beach tournament in Ludington

Most of the time when I'm assigned to cover a press conference about an event, I just shrug my shoulders, get out my notebook and trudge over there.

Press conferences are easy ways to get all the media together in a controlled environment. They are great for the TV and radio guys but most of the time boring for newspaper reporters.

A few weeks ago Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan was in town to talk about a sex offender roundup in Adams County. Ten minutes after the press conference was supposed to start, somebody asked why we were still waiting. For the TV guys, of course! I suggested we get going, but Madigan looked at me and said, "Hold your horses. We'll wait for them."

So. I've been told to "hold my horses" by one of the top-ranking law enforcement officials in the state. I wear it like a badge of honor, believe me.

This morning I went to a press conference, and for once I didn't dread it, and it was a beautiful thing. The Sammy Fund is having its seventh annual event this October to honor Samantha Otte, who passed away at age 10 in 2000 from cystic fibrosis complications. Her parents, Chuck and June, decided to do something positive in her memory and the result is an annual event that raises thousands for children's activities in Adams County.

Chuck and June don't like the spotlight and would rather not have to deal with the media, but they believe in what they are doing and they do it with great humility, humor and love. (Chuck and June are in the Funions Hall of Fame, by the way).

They had a short presentation, handed out a fact sheet, thanked everybody profusely, and went on their way. And nobody told me to hold my horses this morning — the TV guys were only a few minutes late.

I admire and respect Chuck and June for perservering in the midst of great personal pain and tragedy.

Goodbye, 49 Carlton

In 1980, a family of seven moved from London, Ontario to Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Now only my father will be left in GR because my youngest sister, Charys, has decided to move to Denver, where her husband's family lives.

Can't say I blame her. She has a great husband, David, and two beautiful young children, Josh and Erin. They were the light in my mother's eye, and Grandma Hart took a piece of us when she passed on 14 months ago. Her death was especially hard on Charys, who we called the GR Kid because she was the last one in town.

So they are pulling up and leaving and it's a sad thing. The last time I saw my mother was at their house on 49 Carlton Street, during Christmas 04. It was our hub during her funeral and my place of refuge on road trips up north, and I will miss the porch and playing guitar with Josh, reading to Erin and hanging out with my brother in law and my sister on the porch.

I was there in May and as I pulled away for the very last time from 49 Carlton, the four of them were standing on the porch waiving goodbye, and that's a great memory to be left with.

I was feeling a little bit blue about it — also getting ready for a church meeting tonight, and I don't like church meetings — when I stumbled on this bit of 80s rock Youtube.com loveliness ....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SQFZNes0Ro&search=Tubes%20Talk%20To%20Ya%20Later

If this doesn't take you back, NOTHING will!

Eric Tessmer

This reply came early this morning for an entry I wrote in early March .....

Hey Rodney,
I know it says anonymous, but this is Doug, the drummer for the Eric Tessmer Band....ran across your blog entry and wanted to thank you for such kind words about our band.

Quicy was very supportive to us this spring. I gotta say, we were surprised....Ash Wednesday...and we didn't think anyone knew who we were. Thanks to you and everyone that came to see us.

We'll be back at the Blue Onion on Tuesday, June 27 and we'll be there for Blues in the District on August 25. Hope we get to see each other again. Peace.

One Year Ago

I don't put a lot of weight into dates and times. But it was one year ago almost to this very hour that my mom passed away in Grand Rapids.

There is still a very empty feeling today, especially with the rain.

She is indeed in a better place, and that makes me feel better.

Brother John Is Right On

John Frank preached for us at First Union this morning and gave about the most appropriate message I've ever heard.

It was about old stuff and new stuff, and how we treasure both. When it comes to music in church, you can have the best of both worlds.

You may be a traditionalist, you may love the sound of the organ and the old hymns, and you might not like the newer "contemporary" music out there, but it's all good if it's done in the proper worship setting.

John closed with a prayer of sorts by singing a song called "Where The River Is Flowing" by Gerrit Gustafson, and I played guitar for him. It's a very mellow song and John sung it beautifully. People actually clapped for us when it was done. The nerve!

After the service we got a lot of compliments, some from people I really didn't think would like it. Serves me right for being stubborn and narrowminded.

Anyway, it was the best Sunday morning I've spent in a long, long time.

Thanks, Brother John.

Damning The Dead

I hate it when sleep is the "elusive catcher." Maybe this will explain why sometimes it's hard to sleep.

Friday I went to St. Louis and covered the sentencing of a Hannibal guy who defrauded people and banks out of $1 million. I got the impression when he was on the stand that he's a used car salesman. And, wouldn't you know it, he still is.

His wife and his father and his lawyer told the judge about what a great guy he was, and how he got in over his head, and how he always helped people. What a great guy! Except for bilking banks and friends out of $1 million, of course.

He ended up getting 26 months in federal prison and he was ordered to pay it all back.

He was involved with a scheme with a Quincy banker. When authorities began figuring it out, the Quincy banker killed himself. All the details came out yesterday and I really struggled with how to handle the story. Damning the dead is wrong. But the story is the story. So I wrote about what happened (www.whig.com).

The reaction will be interesting. I'm sure the dead banker's family and friends will be upset. I guarantee the email in-box will be full when I get to work Monday.

I knew the dead banker, too. He did my home mortgage refinancing a few years ago. Saved us about seven years of payments, too. He was a young guy with several young children who had something go terribly wrong. I think about him a lot because he worked at a bank just blocks from where I live, and I drive by it almost every day.

I pray for his wife and children.

And I wonder about this job.

Joy of Reading

Last Tuesday I read to the third-graders in Mrs. Frank's class at Berrian School.

Berrian is a very interesting story. It's a building more than 100 years old that was basically shuttered by Quincy Public Schools in the 1960s. In the late 90s the school board decided to open it again, as it is a classic neighborhood school.

The building was completely overhauled, and it opened in August of 1999 for grades K through 3.

At that time Emily was getting ready to enter third grade at Adams School, where she had gone since kindergarten. When Berrian opened the district lines were redrawn and we found ourselves in Berrian's district. We could have kept Emily at Adams, but decided to send her to the new school.

A lot of the neighborhood parents kept their kids away from Berrian. They didn't want their kids going to school with the children from the nearby projects. The neighborhood runs from middle class to well under the poverty level, and the projects by Indian Mounds aren't pretty.

Boy, did they miss out.

Third grade proved to Emily's best year ever in school. She flourished in the small classroom environment and she had a superb young teacher, Jill Schinderling. The principal, John Tignor, was a visionary who worked his butt off to prove Berrian could shine.

I drive up Eighth Street a lot and I always look at that northeast corner classroom window, remembering that great year.

Today, Ms. Schinderling (now Mrs. Reis) is the principal at Berrian, and they are still doing great things there.

Last Tuesday, I talked to the 11 third-graders about the newspaper business and we stressed the importance of reading. Then I read the story called "Conrad The Cricket" from the book we published in honor of my mom. She wrote a short story for each of her grandchildren for Christmas 2004, and we had it "published" for her birthday last March. After she died, we used some of the estate money to publish hardbound copies with her stories.

The kids loved the story and were very polite and full of good questions. It might have been the most productive half an hour I've spent in a long, long time.

Mom? Your stories live on. Your book is still at Berrian School, and I hope Mrs. Frank's class reads the rest of the stories.

They are still doing great things at Berrian.

Funny thing is, it's not just the students who learn.

Susan's Better Place

Susan White died this morning after a long, often brutal but always courageous battle with cancer. She leaves two sons and her husband, Rev. Tim White, who has been a friend for all 10 years I've been in Quincy.

I give guitar lessons to Drew and Devon, great kids. Actually they give me lessons in life and about how great it is to be a young person with their head screwed on straight.

I went over there this morning after hearing about it and I just didn't know what to say. I gave Tim a big hug and talked to the guys for a few minutes.

What do you say?

It just isn't fair. Sometimes I get angry at God and this is definitely one of those times.

But you have two choices. You either stay angry and bitter and let the darkness prevail, or you think about what Susan would want and you forge ahead.

I thought Susan would win. I thought that sonovabitch cancer had NO chance. She was tough as nails and she never publicly complained. She was really sick in recent months but you wouldn't have known it, unless you heard that nagging little cough and unless you knew she had her lungs drained twice in recent weeks.

A lesser person would have succumbed a long time ago. Susan, who taught at Baldwin School, hung on through sheer will and prayer power. I'll never forget the night much of the Trinity UCC congregation huddled in the fall rain outside their Vermont Street house and cheered Susan for getting through her chemo.

She walked around the house with that bald head of hers and we laughed like crazy about it.

She hung on for her kids. They were everything for her. She tried to pay me for guitar lessons and finally I had to throw her money back at her and I could see she had it figured out - her guys were worth it, but I couldn't put a price on it. They taught me as much as I showed them, which wasn't really that much.

These next days will be really hard for Tim, Devon and Drew, but the following weeks and months will be even harder. Realization has a way of settling in and gnawing at you and it takes a lot of courage and strength to work through it.

Tim has comforted thousands during his ministry, and now it's time for us to comfort him. Thank God he has friends like Kris and Shelly Bentley, and the rest of the Trinity family.

Susan - you are in a better place now. My heart cries for your family, and gives thanks for having known you.

I rest easier knowing your fight is over.

Vertigo Review

NOTE: Much of this review was published 12/16/05 in the Quincy Herald-Whig. Used by permission, copywrite Quincy Newspapers Inc. 2005.

See the previous post for the complete set list.

By Rodney Hart
Herald-Whig Staff Writer

When the biggest band in the world came to the Savvis Center in St. Louis Wednesday night, and the lights went out, and guitarist The Edge started chattering the chords for City of Blinding Light, and lead singer Bono stood at the top of the ellipse runway stage, it was time - time for The Look.

Bono put his hands in the air as the confetti fell and drummer Larry Mullen Jr. joined bass player Adam Clayton to kick the song into overdrive. Bono sauntered down the runway back to the stage, looked into the crowd on the floor, and gave them The Look, a look only he can give. It's the rock star/world activist/choir leader/devious child/bus driver/cliff jumper look.
"Time to get ready, St. Louis," his eyes seemed to say - time to tear the Savvis Center to bits and jump on the 2005 Vertigo
Tour.

There are few people in this world who can deliver The Look and deliver a show like Bono and U2. He held 19,000 people spellbound at the sold-out show and mixed the rock show with his usual imploring about Africa and the One Campaign to end poverty.

From the floor inside the ellipse, taking in U2 is like being hit by a multimedia and color-drenched tidal wave. The band started with City of Blinding Lights and immediately launched into Vertigo and Elevation. U2 reached back to its 25-year-old October album for Gloria, then amped the crowd up for the sing-a-long Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

Bono's voice was in fine form and the band had great energy. His Italian opera delivery during Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own and Miss Sarajevo stopped everybody in their tracks. This was the 107th show of 110 since February, but you would never have known it. Clayton and The Edge often strolled along the large runway extending halfway onto the floor, and Bono wisely stayed away from some, but not all, of the higher notes.

U2 stakes its claim as the best band in the world simply because of Mullen, the best drummer in rock today. He doesn't fly all over the kit and try to smash everything in sight, he simply delivers punctuated power and keeps a band with often complex arrangements on track with Clayton's steady bass delivery.

Bono was the usual stage madman, stalking songs rather than singing them, but here's something that makes you love the man even more. Yes, Virginia, there is a monitor with the scrolled lyrics on the stage. Two of them, in fact. Bono rarely looked at them, but it's comforting to know even the rock star/world activist sometimes forgets the words.

The band's ability to move was never more evident than Where The Streets Have No Name, which caused the crowd to jack up its response into a deafening roar. Before playing One, Clayton casually leaned against his bass amps and watched Bono gleefully say the One Campaign will have 5 million members by the next election - "That's more than the NRA!"

While The Edge certainly is a technology-driven guitar player, layering his sounds with echoes and affects, he is a tiger when let loose. Bullet The Blue Sky featured blues leads and ripping power chords, and End Of The World was a ferocious six-string missile.

Bono pulled a young boy out of the crowd to sing "No more!" during Sunday Bloody Sunday. He sampled The Clash's Rock The Casaba, and he taunted a young woman during The End of The World by reaching out to her as if to invite her on the stage, then pulling back. He returned to her at the end of Mysterious Ways and hauled her up to the stage, slow-dancing with her during With Or Without You.

An acoustic Stuck In A Moment started the second encore, followed by U2's nod to the death of John Lennon 25 years ago, a well-paced Instant Karma. Mullen in particular was right on during the machine-gun drum breaks. During Yahweh, Bono invited a young man from the crowd to play piano, exhorting him to finish the song with sweeping sustained chords.

U2 finished with 40, Bono leaving first, then Clayton, then The Edge, then only Mullen left to muscle out the last minutes of the concert. "Don't forget about us," Bono said.

No chance.

We'll be looking for The Look again, Bono.