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What this place needs is a�..


thebes

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On 7/21/2005 11:04:17 AM Invidiosulus wrote:

Yeah, we're runnin' a little bit hot tonight.

I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it.

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Funny wrong word story about Panama if you will indulge me for just a bit. I graduated from H.S. in the summer of 1984 just a few weeks later I was in boot camp for the Navy. 8 weeks later I was in training for my Navy job in Colorado. That album really was everywhere that summer, but myself and others in the depravation of boot camp must not have know the actual name of the song.

One night in the Colorado barracks (dorm style rooms 3 people to a room) after probably a few barley-pops me and my two roommates were singing way off key and way too loud to that song on the radio. When it gets to the chorus and PANAMA one guy screams Canada, the other the correct Panama, and the third Wait On Love. We all cracked up and swore the other two were wrong.

I cant here that song with out reliving that moment every single time.

Sorry for the side trackback to great summer songs.

EDIT: I'll leave it up in the air as to who was correct 2.gif

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Memories and music, not to bad a way to go.

Michael's story about Zep, reminds of my famous Lost Weekend, sometime in the late '60's. Friend got off the plane from his tour of Vietnam with 28 lids of that country's finest stashed in a boom box. The ironically named (really about the irony) Goon Squad gathered up some food a few cases of Genesee and headed to a friends lakeside camp. Don't remember much except my friends laughing at me as I sat on the floor in the cabin, headphones on, groovin to the Zep.

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On 7/21/2005 1:12:46 PM IAmtnbikr wrote:

Cool deal Ben...Stephen Perkins is related to me through my grandmother's side of our family. Pretty talented guy for sure...it was neat to see them release new music a couple years ago and go back out on the road.
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Yeah, they were something to behold in their prime. I saw them on the tour just prior to the first Lollapawhatever thing. Rochester War Memorial. Best rock show I've ever seen, I think. This would have been May '91, I think. Amazing chemistry in that band.

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On 7/21/2005 3:42:30 PM ironwoods wrote:

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On 7/21/2005 12:27:11 PM colterphoto1 wrote:

"You'll get some leg tonite fo sho!"
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"Come on Dave, gimme a break"

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"ONE BREAK, COMIN UP..." (Eddie ROCKS out..)

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On 7/21/2005 11:40:00 AM rplace wrote:

Funny wrong word story about Panama if you will indulge me for just a bit. I graduated from H.S. in the summer of 1984 just a few weeks later I was in boot camp for the Navy. 8 weeks later I was in training for my Navy job in Colorado. That album really was everywhere that summer, but myself and others in the depravation of boot camp must not have know the actual name of the song.

One night in the Colorado barracks (dorm style rooms 3 people to a room) after probably a few barley-pops me and my two roommates were singing way off key and way too loud to that song on the radio. When it gets to the chorus and PANAMA one guy screams Canada, the other the correct Panama, and the third Wait On Love. We all cracked up and swore the other two were wrong...

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Great story! I like the whole knockin back a few "barley-pops" thing. Painted a whole world in my head.

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On 7/21/2005 7:04:48 AM Petrol wrote:

'Little Mike Colter' Absolutely Nailed it for me . . .

I was just a skinny, punk arse junior high kid in '75 who was singing to himself while blasting Led Zep Kashmir everyday before leaving the house around noon to walk down to the public pool, hassle all the 'older' (HS) hotties and hang with bros

btw, worry not ole man, not only will I play Kashmir at my funeral, I'll play it in your honor when I get home tonight!

Thanks for inspiring the memories.

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thankyewverymuch

Michael

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What a great thread....

It's 1976, and we are finishing up another evening of flipping steaks at the now defunct "Bonanza" steak house. It's just about 9:45, the restaurant closed at 9, and we have been hustling to get everything packed up and put away. Myself and a few friends are about to make the trek over to Putt-Putt, a favorite "post work" hangout about three blocks away. We pull off our greasy orange and brown plaid shirts, change into something more presentable, head outside, and hop in our vehicles. My ride is a gold '66 Mercury four door sedan with a 289 V8 and an AM radio.

The night is cool with a familiar, sweet breeze coming off Lake Erie, a mere 2 miles South of our location. Summertime is tourist season in Erie, and the small Mom and Pop hotels along route 5 are ripe with Pittsburghians on vacation, as they have been for many decades. Fancy names like "El Patio" and "Lakeview Inn" beckon travelers in neon wash, while outdoor pools provide a glimpse of late night patrons enjoying a dip behind scenic though aged wrought iron fences. The windows are down, the radio is cranking, and the serenity of youth blinds our senses with great promise.

Within a few minutes we arrive at Putt-putt, a haven of young people. Putt-putt is ideal, as it is both close by and allows us to enjoy the exquisite night air of the brief summers. We pull in, exit our cars and head for the ticket window. Having received our paychecks, we are ready and willing to sacrifice the dollar per game fee. $2 an hour is big bucks to a sixteen year old, who has only the needs of an occasional burger and 25 cent a gallon gasoline!

The scene is a carnival of colors awash in the radiant sky of bold flourescent lights, flickering with wayward insects caught in a trance. Orange rails, green fairways, and a rainbow of ball colors all add to the excitement. Sound surrounds us, with laughter and the happy chatter of folks on dates, the sound of traffic along Peninsula drive dotting the scene with an occasional catcall from passing vehicles. Music from overhead speakers fills the air with favorites as the Eagles "One of these Nights", and 10CC's "I'm not in love". Life is good, time is endless, and we have nowhere to go, no place to be, and these moments are forever being recorded as memories, without us even knowing.

The hours draw late as they always do, and we head back to our quiet homes, our parents silent in sleep hours before. A few hours away, another day waits, pushing us relentlessly towards a future of different places, experiences, and issues so far removed from these days. We are young and bold, and these moments are fleeting, and we do not know this. Time is kind, for now.

28 years later, I sit here late at night, these images as real as the days I was part of them. Bonanza has long since gone out of business, the Putt-putt is a barren patch of undeveloped land, the batting cages and go-kart track have been razed, the drive-in theaters are now neighborhoods and strip malls, and the waterpark is a barren piece of land grown over and well manicured. The destinations that dotted the landscape of my youth are now nothing more than spots on a forgotten map, full of hidden treasure that only I can unearth. That familiar breeze that carried away memories as it bathed me now returns to impart familiar and bittersweet memories of my youth, nonetheless colored by the passage of time.

Yet, I know those lake breezes are still there, imparting a sweet odor to another youth in another time. For them, time is also kind, for now.

Chris

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Wow, Putt-putt. Did anyone else's have the four colors of the balls lit up one at a time above the desk? If you got a hole in one while your ball color was lit, it was as if the best thing in the world just happened to you. One free game!!! Sheer joy for an 8 year old.

I think our putt-putt is now a mortuary. How symbolic.

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On 7/20/2005 11:55:01 PM ben. wrote:

Damn, you cats are old!! In 75, I was still filling my drawers three times a day... I've cut down since then.

"<a
http://homepage.mac.com/john_kruper/artwork/janes_addiction/nothings_shocking.jpg" align=right border=0>

If I had to choose one record that reminded me of my Sr in high school (I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to...), I'd pull Jane's Addiction's "Nothing's Shocking". No reefer stories, but plenty of draft beer and booty.

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I THINK BEN HIT SOMETHING HERE THIS WAS VOTED BEST SOUNDING CD BY A FEW DIFFERENT MAGS WHEN ITCAE OUT + IT SOUNDS SOSWEET ON THE K-HORNS......DAMN WHAT A BAND, GLAD I GOT TO SEE THEM TWICE....AS FAR AS HIGH SCHOOL(FUNNY HOW THEY SPELL HIGH) WAS SLAYER REIGN IN BLOOOD. THAT WILL GIVE YOU OLD GUYS SOMETHING TO HEAR:)

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So, I am in what appears to be a record store. I am going through boxes of recordings at my usual pace expecting nothing, but always alert for King Tut's Tomb.

And there it is...a mint copy of "No Longer Indian Summer Blues." What a find! As I'd been looking for things for a friend, I felt guilty, but knew I was going to keep it. How long had it been since I heard those haunting opening lines whispering of century-plus heat so oppressive it slowed your movements like trying to walk in molasses, of locust symphonies beginning on one side and moving like the "wave" at at stadium across ones consciousness and dieing away in the distance, only to begin again.

It was very exciting, so exciting it woke me up. I asked myself "What is this 'No Longer Indian Summer Blues?'" Was it something I heard on the bus trip to the Delta with Thebes and the gang as we retreated Pell-Mell from the Twins path of destruction up north? A bit of obscure Gershwin I'd forgotten? Perhaps that bizarre little flashing neon Thai dope den with the huge oil projectors, naked women, Laurel and Hardy films, and music, loud, strange music...from which I barely made it out of after way too much 6% formaldehyde, 12% alcohol beer and smokes that tasted very strange back during that nasty bit of business in SEA? Or did I make it??

I finally decided it was just a dream. On the other hand, I recall, somewhere between Muskogee and Eufaula, Oklahoma headed south from the Twins last reported position at flank speed towards our defense positions across the Red, eight notes suddenly began to repeat in my head. Vaguely similar to Gershwin's "Summertime," but far darker, much more melancholy, as though from a South of some other place entirely. I repeated them over, and over, and over trying to burn them into my mind.

But after crossing the great Red River, my mind was blank. Just memories of a dream, a nagging sense that the Twins were not far behind, and nothing more.

Dave

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Summertime

Summertime

And the living is easy

Fish are jumping

The cotton is high

Oh your daddy's rich

Your mama's good looking

I said hush little baby

Don't you cry

One of these mornings

You're bound to rise up singing

Then you'll spread your wings

And take to the sky

But til that morning

Nothing's going to harm you no

With Daddy and Mama standing by

Summertime

(Sweet summertime)

And the living is easy

(Living is easy)

Fish are jumping

The cotton is high

(Sky high)

Oh your Daddy's rich

(Your Daddy's rich)

And your Mama's good looking

(Your Mama's good looking)

I said hush little baby

Don't you cry

Don't you cry

(Don't you cry)

Summertime

(Sweet summertime)

Summertime

(Sweet summertime)

Summertime

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Dang Amy, what a great memory - one I had forgotten. I >believe< there were times when all four were lit now that you mention it, and IIRC, I did sink one or two hole-in-ones then. Yes, much of my youth was misspent at the establishment, and I STILL have many "SAVE 30 cents off a game" coupons stuck in a box somewhere with the orange and plaid Bonanza shirt. My best game ever? A 7 under par 29, one fine summer afternoon. It would have been a 28, but I shot a 3 on one of the holes, dang it!!

Those were the days...I can't believe it's all gone. And the arcade inside....well, that's a story for another day. Thanks for sharing, Amy!

Chris

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