Cool Stuff For Stiffs Like You

Part One – Parker Music

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 06:41:00 +0000

Part One – Parker Music....

Change....

“It doesn’t matter who you are....
It’s all the same....
What’s in your heart will never change…….”

John Wait – 1982

I actually bought my first Marshall amp from Evan’s Music. It might have been in 1981.
I’m not really sure. I do remember Kelly and I living in some apartments I did carpenter work on a few years prior. The Marshall 100 watt half stack stood in our bedroom. It was about the best sounding amp I had ever owned. To this day, nothing has been able to replace it. I still can’t figure out how or why I let it go away. I wanted to exploit it to its capacity when I first got it. Unfortunately, all my musician friends were all off making lives while I was making mine.

Heather was probably about 3 years old staying at home with mom and trying on mom’s shoes. But about that time is when I read an ad in the Rolling Stone and contacted an agency which led me to join a working lounge band called Super Fox. The name really doesn’t give the clearest picture of just how completely hideous this venture was. In any case the repertoire was precisely what the name implied. Management was determined to keep its hotel lounge operators satisfied with current top 40 hits and ruminants of disco. I could have done worse (or better).

I was only on the road with Super Fox long enough to get a few pay checks and meet up with John and Marie Hollenbeck, a married couple with the determination to overthrow the band and make some kind of point. I never got the point. But, my parents put them up, I found some carpenter work for John and I and later the three of us made our way to Connecticut which of course and according to John was superior to Texas. Naturally my van was their means to return home. All the while John promised me a place to stay and a band to work with for money. All was well upon our arrival until John’s wife got into an argument with John’s father over some
door to door sales lady trying to sell John’s wife place settings from the Hollenbeck’s kitchen table. (homeless people living in Vince’s van shopping for place settings. Only in ....Connecticut....). By now I was certain I had made a foul judgment decision and sincerely missed the convenience of knowing where I could find drugs back home. Connecticut was the only place I had ever seen and heard a Rolling Stones tribute band. They weren’t awesome.

Later in the day, we converged to Marie’s father’s house to stay the night. We did. The next day Mr. Percel was kind enough to thank me for coming to visit and should I return to please call ahead. I was then glad I fucked his 19 year old daughter when she came to visit her sister and John back in Dallas. At least I had my van and my gear. I then drove to New Jersey to see and stay with Bill Flynn in Point Pleasant Beach. After a thorough 4 month stay, I called my wife, got some cash and headed home with my tail planted firmly between my legs. I did, however meet Frankie Infante of Blondie. Too bad my thing wasn’t heroin. Frankie was an expert on that one. He certainly couldn’t play the guitar and any philosophical uttering was lost with the missing brain cells. Who am I to talk?

When I made my triumphant return back to the wife and back to my home stomping grounds, I was determined to make the best use of my new found road savvy I obtained playing in Super
Fox, traveling the north east part of the US and of course meeting the likes
of Blondie’s guitar player. I hit the pavement and landed at Parker Music.

When I moved to Texas in the summer of 1973, Parker Music was the closest music store around my area. Parker Music had several locations strewn about Houston, but Northline Mall was the one within my reach. My friends and I went there whenever transportation permitted. While my friends were guys that liked the thought of playing guitar or whatever, I was truly the only real musician they had ever really ever known. What they pictured as a means to acquire more girls was vastly different than my ambitions as a guitar player. At Parker’s I saw a Gibson Flying V or a new Les Paul, both of which over shadowed my beat up SG I bought used in California with my Fender Mustang trade in. Parker’s had all the stuff that I thought I needed. Even the shitty Peavey PA stuff was the closest I could get to live performance gear. Parker’s was the place where I bought a brand new Les Paul Custom burgundy and my first full scale PA system in all its Peaveyness.

I looked up Parker Music in the phone book. The phone numbers for the location on the north freeway and Memorial City were switched by accident. This probably didn’t deter Parker’s from making a killing selling LP and Peavey to the local Hispanics and rednecks. I called the number that was supposed to be for the freeway location. Linda Kroger answered the phone and I asked if I could please come in and talk to the manager. She informed me they were always looking for new talent and to see Tom (what’s his name). I thought to myself what a nice lady that was on the phone. I proceeded to embark to the north store and talk to this Tom person. Tom was a tall over weight red haired goon that looked down at me and was a complete jerk off. He afforded the larger portion of our time together telling me how he was Parker’s main guy and I wasn’t to waste a second of his precious time. I explained the phone numbers being switched and that I spoke to Linda. Time seemed to stand still as I felt alone making sense. I found out some basic important facts from our “made guy” Tom regarding phones are never switched, I am in error, why would I expect to get hired with less than zero knowledge of music gear etc. ....

The hard part was long over and ended very quickly and quietly as Tom and I become great pals. This may have been due to my impeccable ass kissing skills and the fact that I swept and
mopped the restroom without being asked. To think I would take a shit in that shithole?
I was introduced to Lysol at a young age and I wasn’t about to drive all the way home for periodic relief and privacy. At any rate, I was at home at the North store. Since my counterpart, Roy Briggs didn’t like to work night shift hours; I was always in complete control and could virtually do whatever I wanted to in the confines of the guitar side of the store.

The north store was a large building the owner built from scratch on a property located on the west side of the feeder road of interstate 45 between West Road and West Mount Houston Road. Rudy built the north store somewhere around 1980 whenever he got tired of paying rent to Northline Mall. The north store was a fortress impenetrable by drunk drivers, missiles or virtually anything else including the elements. There is no glass front facing any part of the perimeter. The entrance is a high and large wooden cast door combined with metal that you can’t break into or escape from. There is no access to the roof without a ladder not to mention any real means by which to escape elsewhere. The north store did accommodate convenience when it came to loading large pieces of gear and big pianos and organs to your truck or Parker’s trucks for eventual delivery. But inside lay the magic.

The room occupying the guitars and amps and all the other cool gear was as huge as an automobile showroom times two (or three or more so). It was the marvel of the business in those days. There were wall to wall guitars hanging on every side of the room. Evans was still in a strip center as were most of the other competing music stores. In fact Evans is still in the same spot! The north store was and still is one of a kind in respect to the industry and dare I say, culture embodying musical gear. We sold orchestra and school band instruments as well. But guitars, amps, drums, PA and such were the main stay regardless of the fact most of it didn’t produce a relative dime of profit. The majority of a guitar store’s cash flow resides in strings and accessories unless you sell pianos and organs which Parker used to for many years.

Wilson Boone was the resident peripheral manager. Boone counted and ordered sheet music and had done so for 20 years (or longer). Boone was with Parker’s before Rudy and Linda
bought it when it was a chain of retail outlets called Parker Brothers. Boone reached the peek of his career and was well on his way to retirement years at that time. Boone was a WWII veteran and was acutely meticulous in all his efforts due to his regimen and discipline. Boone was also a drinking buddy on the weekends. Boone made stringent efforts to get his work done in order to
maintain his prompt cocktail calling at the appropriate hour of the day. I joined him regularly, counting sheet music and drinking. Boone never counted money but he did carry keys to all six of the locations that were in operation at that time. He served his purpose and Rudy kept him around. Boone may have been a little outdated, but Boone knew where everything was located in every crevice throughout the entire chain of Parker’s stores notwithstanding storerooms and the like.

Roy Briggs at first seemed like a nice guy that was fun to talk to about music, gigs and what not. Roy used to play in a band called the Eyes. Without delving into the 10 points of Kevin Bacon, I actually saw the Eyes when Cardi’s first opened many years ago. Roy, for the most part, appeared interesting and knowledgeable. Roy was an alcoholic. His life was always in disarray and he always had a bone to pick with the world. I found myself avoiding Roy on all levels. He made me uneasy. In general Roy made allot of people uneasy. The only real fun I had with Roy was when we played a gig with Ray Carroll in Magnolia and Roy couldn’t stay standing after countless Jack and cokes. Roy played bass and I was the guitar player. It was a country and western gig. No matter. I learned absolutely nothing from my association with Mr. Briggs.

Tom, on the other hand, taught me allot in terms of operating a music store the wrong way and with the least amount of effort. Whenever I began working for Parker Music, Tom was the
manager of all the locations and couldn’t keep track of one of them. Whenever Rudy took his keys away from the other locations and left him with the north store, Tom wasn’t capable of running a newspaper route much less an extreme music store concern as colossal as Parker’s northern most location. And Tom was our absentee manager. He popped his head in now and then yet managed to be around whenever Rudy was in the store. Rudy came to work at 5AM.. and left for the bank by 10AM.. almost daily. With the exception of inventory season, Tom was scarce most of the time. Calling Tom on the phone in a time of need was completely useless and futile, especially when there was a real problem like the store getting robbed. I failed to see how Rudy decided to keep him as long as he did. I wonder in pure disbelief to find an example of Tom’s competence other than to say that Tom was so very incompetent I can’t even site
an example to allocate to him even to his credit. Tom and Roy were both completely worthless human beings. Tom was addicted to coke and Roy Jack Daniels. They both finally got fired. Both men were dicks. Sorry if I am being reiterative. It merits repeating.....

Rudy fired Tom. I was glad and also in disbelief that morning and I was not going to miss that fool at all. Neither was Linda. Linda even told me she thought he was a drug coated wind bag
wanting for unemployment benefits. But the ultimate moment in Parker history was when Roy was fired. Steve Baker fired Roy Briggs. I wish I could write that louder. I certainly will repeat it for my own entertainment and joy. Fuck Roy Briggs. Roy Briggs is a jerk. While Roy was telling me, my drummer friend and Ed Mumford he was better than any of us at a jam session, Steve Baker was touring with the Teddy Boys across the ....United States..... Roy Briggs toured liquor stores. Steve Baker played clubs. It was like going to a fight and watching another kid beat the Be Jesus out of the local bully. Except, Roy was a little guy by most standards while Steve was tall and thin. Neither Steve nor Roy were in any capacity to brawl. But let me regress: Steve fired ....Roy..... He fired ....Roy.... because Rudy agreed with him to do so. Let’s take a closer look at this because this is important. Steve possessed the wherewithal to recognize a true asshole and convey it to Rudy as such. “Do you really think we should fire Roy”? “I think so. Yes. He’s bad for the company”. “You want to do it”? “Yes. Absolutely”. “Done”. Maybe it didn’t start out that eloquent. Who cares? Mission accomplished! Steve did the right thing.

Steve should have had a parade in his honor as far as I was concerned. Steve stifled the little pig
headed thief...oops. I forgot to mention Roy and Tom were pilfering the place blind. (More on that later). Steve came back from the road and was rehired by Rudy and Linda. Steve had skill and experience in this business and made it into what it was meant to be or once was. Parker’s was back into the business of stocking and selling good gear. Where Roy and the coke head squandered Parker’s reputation, Baker brought back the fundamentals that were tradition and replenished Parker’s dignity. I held the highest of account(s) for this man that demonstrated fearlessness and highest integrity beyond any base or premise. Baker was a good guy who was unpretentious and down to Earth. Now I was working at the Parker’s I remembered years earlier. Time to get to work.

Steve invented a new logo to bring Parker’s to a current style of being while delivering Parker’s into the mainstream with the rest of the 80s. It started with a new business card and some bumper stickers. It stuck. It remained. It remains today and as we speak. With Steve long gone selling custom homes in Sugarland, it can be seen on the side of the north store’s building! You can see it from the freeway as you drive by. You can recognize it anywhere else you might happen upon it. For years musicians had the bumper sticker on their guitar cases and road gear not to mention the cars they drove. Rudy used to call it “Steve’s guitar”. That’s what it was. It
was a guitar. It was jaggedly drawn by someone Steve knew or maybe it was drawn by Steve Baker himself. I don’t remember. Rudy’s remarks on the matter were “Steve seems to think this guitar thing will work. I don’t know”. Rudy knows now because it did! It was “Steve’s guitar”. So be it.

The downtown store was actually located on interstate 45 south near the University of ..Houston.... in an old strip center next to a carpet outlet. Rudy used to love to hate that location. He hated paying rent and he hated thieves breaking into the store via busting the cinder blocks with a sledge hammer. But, Rudy is a numbers man. Rudy realized the location’s consistent bottom line and reluctantly wrote a check every month for the rent and had a brick mason, more
than a few times, replace the broken bricks. The slang name for the downtown store was the Drum store.

Baker exploited the Drum store’s legend. Many of the then well known local drummers worked at that store over the course of the seventies and beyond. The clientele and the drummer
employees were legend (although the only name I can remember is Lalo) and were the harbingers of the newest and the latest percussion and the like. But also, it’s important to be reminded; the Drum store also housed Pete Ware the electronic repair emperor and Lauren Davies the piano tuner slash band instrument expert. Speaking of which, Parker’s at one time in history had an elite crew of band instrument specialists that extended their power and influence from the Drum store.

Steve exploited the Drum store’s incumbent and undefeated legend and legacy. He renamed it. He renamed it appropriately and prudently using mindful consciousness and maintaining
compliance with a standard and a tradition. He renamed it The Drum Company. It wasn’t the downtown store any longer and it certainly wasn’t just the drum store. We called it Drum Company for short and we answered the phone Drum Company. Steve had cards printed that said Drum Company and Drum Company had its own logo. A logo that sits in its rightful place next to the “Steve’s guitar” on the north store building.

Rudy enjoyed getting up at the crack of dawn and doing books and counting money. Rudy picked his venue regularly. If he so desired, he worked from home, the north store, Drum Company
and sometimes Memorial City. Rudy paid bills. He preferred to write checks for inventory over paying rent and other expenditures like utilities. Little by little locations like Pasedena and others become obviously absurd to keep operating. Rudy didn’t shed a tear over closing some of these, especially Pasadena. The Pasadena store looked like a used auto parts store inside with a trifle of amps and guitars with broken strings. Towards its last days, Gordon made sure the store looked somewhat presentable in spite of the fact Rudy hardly allocated any of Parker’s resources or inventory out there. Pasadena was a dead shoe. Gordon was more than happy to go over and run the guitar side of the Drum Company leaving Pasadena to die a lonely death. In fact Gordon was overjoyed to make the move. Drum Company had an abundance of gear and plenty of paying customers.

Rudy, as he has always done in the past, sent two trucks that loaded up what was meaningful and then disconnected the phone. The trucks, of course, had Steve’s guitar painted on the side that served as message to the lingering dust in the ....Pasadena.... store and the rest of the world. This is a new era. This is a new Parker’s. No remorse for the dead.....

The first year I worked at Parker’s, Boone gave me the task of moving the music books racks. I was pushing one of the larger wooden bins when a leg collapsed and landed on my foot. My
foot swelled up and I had to go to the local clinic at Parker’s expense and have it examined. No big deal. Rudy ordered polygraphs that week due to his suspicions of Roy, Tom and some of their pals stealing gear or money or both. I reported for my polygraph soon after I left the clinic. The problem was I didn’t pass the polygraph. My foot was killing me and I wasn’t real cooperative
anyways. Rudy had me meet with Linda at the Memorial store to do some painting until the whole matter got resolved. It did. I will never figure out why they wanted everything painted mostly yellow.

I met some of my fellow workmates at the store and was in wonderment with the scenery of women walking in the mall. The surroundings were more laid back and the mood was liberating.
The musicians were more of the artistic culture in comparison to Drum Company’s blue collar clientele and north store’s rugged redneck and Hispanic crowd. This was appealing to me as a person. I liked it there. I could sell guitars and talk to what I might consider my peers. My transfer wouldn’t happen for another year.....

With Tom and Roy defrocked from grace and the new regime in place, a new and prevalent motif stood in plain view. Parker’s certainly was on a new path in a new and glorious time; the 80s. We had our growing pains. We spent nights and days counting and extracting old junk that wasn’t ever going to get sold and replenishing old inventory with newer more updated products. It
wasn’t hard to do. It was fun! While Tom would order loads of crap because it was in the Midco catalog which didn’t require much effort or thought. Steve would scour all the publications in search of something he saw on a MTV. At about that time Charvel Guitars started appearing on MTV. Naturally Steve was all over it! We ordered Charvel guitars and Parker’s was the first to have them. Steve was starting to make sense to Rudy because apparently, Rudy was paying attention. The bottom line was growing and losses were minimal. Rudy ordered and installed a television with cable access and MTV was to be viewed all hours of the day on the guitar side of the store.

Memorial City didn’t have all the trappings of the large exclusive building on the north freeway and it certainly didn’t have the prestige. Memorial had pianos and organs. Memorial had spiders in the closet with lots of dust. Memorial had some very old instructors. Memorial had a couple of Tom’s leftovers. Sherrie wasn’t one of them though. Steve sent over truck loads of new gear and colorful accessories. Sherrie and I started cleaning the store and arranging and rearranging newer stuff while weeding out older and outdated stuff. Speaking of older and outdated stuff, Tom’s leftovers eventually quit.

People like Tom always made people like me and Gordon worry about getting fired. Looking back, Tom couldn’t play a note to save his pitiful life. Tom heralded himself as an important and
not yet well known member of Genesis. ....Roy.... considered himself to be the most talented and influential songwriter of his time, but he was all alone in that respect. All that changed when Steve got off the road from the Teddy Boys and took the reigns. What he had to work with were people like Gordon and me and of course Sherrie Baccarise. We were all fairly young and had the needed enthusiasm to start a new game at a pristine moment in time. Others joined the ranks. Others had come and gone. And it could only get better. And it did.

I had been telling Steve and Boone that I wanted to go to Memorial. I was about to be separated from Kelly and I wanted more than anything to get out of the windowless building that was the north store. Steve didn’t much care for Memorial for some reason. He had allot of stories about the store. But all in all I think he didn’t like it because there were too many conservative parent types. Aside from seeing his perspective, I liked it there. I spent more time at Memorial than I did at home. I met most of my friends at Memorial and Memorial City Mall changed my life. When I finally started there, I wasn’t greeted with open arms (and drugs).
....
Max was one of Tom’s leftovers. Max generally hated anything to do with Parker’s yet he stuck around until he finally had to quit or get fired. He certainly didn’t appreciate me moving into his turf (or whatever). Max really wasn’t a bad guy. He saw things changing around him and in spite of him which he didn’t understand or like. The 80s were about to leave Max behind with extreme prejudice. Sherrie and I started cleaning up and restringing guitars that had hung on the wall for years. Max saw this as a threat to his survival at Parker’s even though he didn’t want to be there. But now that I think about it, maybe Max wanted to be part of it but couldn’t bring himself to ignore his pride and jump in. Either way, Max joined the other dinosaurs and relinquished the wand.

Sherrie and I fit together well. I wasn’t interested in her other than for a working relationship and she felt the same way. We got under each others’ skin from time to time but overall
we worked together famously.

1983 was a grand year in spite of dealing with Max and some of the remaining bullshit at Memorial. There was plenty of new music all over the place. There was The Police, Motley Crue,
more Van Halen, Michael Jackson, Big Country, Talking Heads, Elvis Costello, Robert Plant, oldies, new stuff by older bands, old stuff by newer bands and a complete variety to suit everyone’s tastes whatever they might be. All of it was on MTV. We didn’t have MTV piped in like it was at the north store. Rudy paid for a ..VCR.. and we played recorded tapes of MTV all day provided by our mutual friend Mike Edmundis Tomato (Mike Edmonds). I’ll explain the name another time.

I met a lot of really cool people and made some fairly serious friendships. Customers of all types asked for me to find whatever it was they needed. I talked to Baker, Boone and Rudy
on a daily basis. Steve was constantly sending us truckloads of new gear. Sherrie and I ordered mounds of gadgets and accessories. In fact, we wanted to beef up our drum stuff. Baker ordered just about every gauge of drumsticks from Promark while Sherrie and I ordered every possible replacement part, cymbal washer, stick caddy, drum head size, drum head tuners and so on to fill any possible void that there might be. It was awesome and we got into it. Virtually every brand and type of guitar strings and bass strings were hanging on the peg board display wall behind the counter and there were millions of guitar picks in whatever container we could put them in on the main counters and elsewhere.

North store got the majority of the newer stuff that came in, but Steve played fair and did what he could to make sure the ratios of newer more popular guitars were somewhat balanced and
reached our sales floor. For the most part, we had at least one of everything
and for items we couldn’t afford to carry one each of, we had a fair
representation of the product line.....

The real fun began whenever we unboxed huge PA systems and set them up or plugged in large guitar and bass amps and demoed them loudly towards the direction of patrons walking by in the mall. Complaints were well established and in abundance, but the noise carried outside the corridors of the mall and received the attention of the right pocket books. Everyone from all ages made a deliberate stop in Parker Music either out of need or out of just pure and refined curiosity.....

We also had our share of local folk that lived in the immediate area. People like Clarius, Jimi James, Gevan, Clint Black and his brother Kevin. I can’t forget Mike and Buddy, two of
Jimi James friends that I became friends with over the years. There was Cole who we took with us to Peavey school posing as Steve Baker because Steve couldn’t make it. There was Mike Edmonds and Marcus (who used to poke me in the chest to annoy me). There was Marcus from Boston. There was Scott and Kent. There was Judy Gard. There was Larry Weinstein, brother of Leslie West that worked for us. There was Gigi (pronounced Gee Gee). There was Lance Nix of Wurx who had a speech impediment when ever he used the expression “depth in my snare”. There was Betty who I later dated. There was Johnny Rockabilly and Jim who now plays
upright bass for Reverend Horton Heat. There were lawyers, doctors, mothers, fathers, preachers, sisters, your aunt and you name it. We were friends with them all. Their names numbered in the hundreds and I can’t begin to remember all of them except for once in a while when a memory of one of them appears in my brain. All of them were totally significant and made a contribution to the time and era.

There were parties, invitations, free lunches, offers to smoke pot in the alley behind the mall and
mall romances. There was plenty of drama, pain, suffering, joy, delusion, misunderstandings, hope, carefree bliss and plenty of young girls that either worked in the mall or hung around the mall or both.

Towards the end of 1983, I had the good fortune to meet Sally Fenoglio. Sally came into the store searching for a microphone she could actually wear while she performed aerobics
as an instructor. We found a headset microphone in the Shure catalog which we expeditiously ordered for her. When it arrived, I could see it wasn’t built for wear and tear so I made some minor modifications with some electrical tape and attached a longer cord to it. There wasn’t a wireless alternative back then. One such thing became available a few years later.

I took the microphone to Sally directly at her studio on West Gray. Her studio had windows all around where you could see her students inside dancing and aerobisizing. I went upstairs to the second floor where the studio was and upon entering I could feel the strong beat of the music and the thud of moving feet on the wood floor of Sally Fenoglio’s Exercise to Music. It was sight to be had. Women were lined in rows sweating and moving in skimpy leotards with sneakers on their feet with legs warmers. Sally was in her early thirties and in totally fit shape. She had
a beautiful figure with a perfect ass. I had a crush on her. She was married. Nothing romantic ever materialized, but we became very good friends over the years until I lost touch of her. Sally asked me how her stereo could become louder with more bass. I brought my wares to our next meeting. Her other instructors that worked for her followed suit and ordered microphones and had me alter them for endurance and functionality to follow their physical movements and suit
their purpose as well.

I also joined Sally’s herd and became an aerobics addict. I originally wanted to meet women but wound up getting in shape which for several years changed my outlook on everything and
life in general. I overcame my shyness to women and made many women friends as well as lovers. Whenever Kelly and I split up, I took it hard at first only later to concede and realize my potential as a 27 year old single dude. It became somewhat painless after all.

Christmas 1983 had a few unusual moments. We managed to pass through band season without many scars. Towards Christmas, Steve ordered dozens of low priced drum sets from major
manufacturers like Tama and Pearl. People in the Memorial area soaked them up really fast and we couldn’t get anymore at a certain point. We loaded customers up with drum stuff, sticks and
whatever we could get on the sales ticket. We even delivered drum sets and put them together. Soon after the first of the year, things really started picking up and we were on the map for keeps. We were so busy none of us could see straight.

Walgreen’s across the way started selling beer and wine in the fall of that year. Close to Christmas Day we started buying dollar bottles of cheap Champaign and pouring it into cups for friends and customers. This may have seemed like a bad idea, but we didn’t care and no one else did either. There was fun to be had by all and it was a festive holiday season. Plus, the movie “Scarface” was out at the theatres and there just happened to be a theatre in the mall. After a long day of drinking cheap champagne and working the sales floor, Sherrie, Jimi James, Gigi and a few others went to the movies to see Scarface in the mall. The film had a malfunction and the flick didn’t start until almost ..midnight... Gigi’s sister worked at the mall’s theatre and let us in for free. Trouble was we were all so drunk and tired except for maybe Sherrie who was just tired, we all fell asleep and had to be waked by whoever was left closing the theatre. The next
day was Sunday and the mall was closed. Good thing for that!

Jimi James Beauford Hoffa ..III.. was a young 22 year old guy with long hair similar to David Lee Roth. Jimi spent all of his spare time at the mall and especially Parker Music whenever he wasn’t making deliveries with his brother in the Bison Lumber truck. Jimi lived with his mom, brother and sister in law in an apartment in Spring Branch fairly near the mall. Somehow Jimi’s brother talked him into giving him his paycheck every week to help the family buy a plot of land
somewhere. Jimi followed instructions and was given something like 20 dollars every week walking around money. Although his brother never followed through with the family plans, his brother did buy Jimi a barely running used car that needed a screw driver to start.

Jimi attracted a lot of cute girls. Two of which were Judy Gard who worked at the import store and later Walgreen’s and Gigi who worked for Parkers. Judy broke it off, but Gigi become complete enamored with Jimi. For the most part Jimi and Gigi were an item, or at least for a little while. Jimi didn’t hang out with one girl too long. But at least Gigi and Jimi stayed friends for years to come until Gigi fell off the radar. It may sound pretty boring and it was. I had a car and a decent job. Jimi got the girls in spite of having or not having either. It was a curious notion whenever some beautiful well dressed girl would stop in at Parker’s to look for Jimi in the most logical place only to be outpaced by him a few moments earlier.

Jimi and I became real close friends and were roommates for many years. In fact we were roommates up until just a few years ago. Jimi is still around though. He is working at Evan’s
Music on Westheimer and has been for over ten years. I have more Jimi stories than I have about anyone else.

1984 was the best year yet. Baker, Linda, Vince Endracio and I went to ....Chicago.... for the NAMM show. If you’ve ever been to ....Chicago...., you know it’s a town for partying and continuous celebrating. Linda brought some cash Rudy had given her to divide amongst us.
She gave me fifty dollars which back then was enough money to blow for a 26 year old punk. I didn’t have to ever pay for one meal much less drinks or cab rides. So the small sum stayed with me until I got home.

At the Gibson guitar exhibit, I had the good fortune of meeting B. B. King who was on stage jamming with Jeff Pacaro (ToTo) and a menagerie of top flight musicians. I also met Steve Morse of the Dixie Dregs who was demonstrating Lexicon gear. I met Rick Derringer at the DiMarzio booth. I met Tim Bogert and Carmine Appice of Vanilla Fudge, Jeff Beck Group and Cactus fame. I met Neal Schon of Journey, but at the time he had a solo album he was trying to get off the ground. I saw and heard scores of greats that included Adrian Belew, Dale Bozio and Steve Lukather. There were also a handful of ex Parker employees that became field reps for
some of the manufacturers like Little Joe from Drum Company and Huey Wyrick who was working for Roland. I also met a lot of new people I became good friends with over the years. The NAMM show was spectacular and it was a blast!

Steve and I were in a cab looking for some cool night spot where there was a lot of lively entertainment. We took a cab to a few clubs and heard some live music. At one point we took another cab and asked the driver to take us somewhere where there was a lot of action.
The cab driver took that to mean something entirely different and took us to a gay bar at the far end of ....Rush Street..... “Skull…..why is there just a men’s room here?” Steve didn’t trust cabs anymore that night so we walked homeward. At least it wasn’t cold and snowing. Along the way we made several stops at local bars and pretty much kept ourselves entertained without incident. The following day after the remainder of the NAMM show, we flew home and reported to Rudy with all the receipts and invoices of merchandise Steve ordered. I had some input on the
buying decisions, but that was only because I knew how most of it worked. Steve got all the glory when it came to buying cool guitars. In contrast, I am solely responsible for Parker’s carrying an amp line that eventually had to be sold at half price and some cool guitar strings with a cool name that never arrived.

More to follow. Pay attention in case I
can’t. This was part one.....

Recipe For Pot Roast

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 04:02:00 +0000

Get a large pot roast and a big dutch oven OR a big roasting pan. Use olive oil on whatever pan you’ve decided to use. Throw into your vessel two cans of cream of mushroom soup and one can of beef broth soup (or even better, a cup of burgundy red wine in place of the beef broth). Toss in about 5 peppercorns OR grind a good amount of pepper. I also use about a tablespoon or more of minced garlic. Cut up and dice a whole white onion along with some mushroom slices. Add some Rosemary, a couple of bay leaves, oregano, thyme and what ever spices you enjoy. I usually add a good dose of soy sauce or Worcestershire sauce, whichever is available. Cook at a low and steady temperature. For the oven, 250 degrees. For the stove top, medium low or lower. I cook mine long and slow.

If you like your gravy to have some cajones, you can always add a bullion cube or two. You can even add a dash of liquid smoke. Also, if your gravy is too watery, sift a table spoon of corn starch to thicken it.

You can add carrots, but I like my sides cooked separately. I like mashed new potatoes and something green to go with my roast. Also, I like the flaky crescent rolls from the frozen food section.

For desert? That’s always up for debate!

Cool Stuff For Stiffs Like You: Outdoor Flying Banners & Flag Banners

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:42:00 +0000

Cool Stuff For Stiffs Like You: Outdoor Flying Banners & Flag Banners

Remembering Leme

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:09:00 +0000

Leme is at the northern most end of Copacabana beach in the city of Rio De Janeiro. It's onr of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The shops are fantastic. The food and the bakeries are incredible. One of my favorites was Sylvia's, a seafood steak resturant. But there's also Marius which is a churrascaria or brasilian barbaque.

But one of my favorite ventures has always been exploring around Leme through it's streets and variety of small shops along side the numerous high rise apartments everywhere. The streets are miniture coblestones that are always breaking loose which someone like me can pick up as a token reminder of the trip.

By day, I'd go get something to eat and a coffee and then beach it until late afternoon or evening. My freinds and I would sit at Senne's on the beach. Senne had a small canvas cover like tent where he fried fish and made sandwhichs. You get a free chair and an umbrella if you need one. You can sit, eat, drink, look at the ocean and watch girls.

Usually around 4ish, we'd head over to Mab's and bullshit with all the mostly European male tourists for hours. Then it's off to a nice nap followed by a shower and then out for a nice dinner. Usually around 10PM. Sometimes later. Chase a few girls around and then off to bed to rest for the next day all over again.

Sounds simple? It is. Leme is simply a laid back place with people the greet each other on the street and girls that are approachable.

Outdoor Flying Banners & Flag Banners

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 22:28:00 +0000

These free standing banner stands are all over the place. I went to the grocery store where there is a Radio Shack and a cell phone store that both had these type banners outside directing attention. I personally think they are innovative and fabulous. But what got my attention was they are also colorful and fun!
Flying banners such as teardrop banners, feather banners, kite banners, sail banners, wing banners and many more appear to be the trend in contacting eye contact with potential shoppers and customers. Moreso they have become a truly affordable advertising tool alongside their uniqueness.

Dyer's Burgers

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 21:52:00 +0000

As you can probably tell, I have had food on my mind all day. Well, anyway. I was watching the travel channel today and watched this incredible piece on Dyer’s Burgers on Beale Street in Memphis, Tennessee. When I used to live in Memphis, I remember Beale Street was referred to as the square and there were several cool places to eat along with banner entertainment. back to the travel channel.

I watched this clip on travel channel and my mouth began to water. They were deep frying these burgers in grease they had recycled since something like 1935? Anyway, you’ll have to watch this YouTube clip and see for yourself. I’m off to the store to get some buns, meat and Crisco!

Watch this video!

Grill A Steak!

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 20:09:00 +0000

It’s time to grill a steak! If you want to fry yours in a skillet or broil it in an oven, that’s your business. But for me, I’m going to cook mine in the manliest way possible: with fire! And my fire won’t be just an ordinary fire. This fire will be the fire of the Gods. The fire that melts metal, burns villages and succumbs little to any of the elements. The very fire I propose, primitive man used to warm himself before any real dwelling became known to him other than a cave. And as for the meat, it will be the most precious of tender cuts, luscious with articles of fat and yet will have all the attributes of its mammal like origin including a bone! Along with my main course will be all the usual suspects like ,perhaps potato salad or a baked potato and maybe some beans, bread and salad.

Let’s go step by step to influence our effort to the sterling heights of it’s ultimate conclusion. Let us enjoy merriment and fellowship as the event ascends upwards to the majestic heavens. We shall spare no effort nor expense in our crusade for perfect bliss and certain flatulence.

Make your fire so hot your neighbor yells from over the fence “you’ve singed my wife’s eyebrows”!

Beans with dignity. Heat up a nice pot of beans with stuff you’ve added from the fridge. Things like barbeque sauce, ketchup, A1, hot mustard, jalapeños and anything else you can muster up.

Slap dat bitch potato salad with real mayonnaise, garlic, red onion, paprika, ground pepper, oregano and sea salt. Use new potatoes because the meal demands the first born of all species!

If you prefer a baked potato, don’t forget the cheese and the bacon. Your palette demands taste and girth. You need big potatoes like the ones that Irish village you conquered earlier can provide. Pile heaping samples of cheese, sour cream, green things and bacon. If you can still see any evidence of a potato underneath your bacon heap, you haven’t fried enough bacon.

Select some nice thick monster steaks that are not only big but mighty! Get a small mallet or small hand held sledge hammer. Don’t just tenderize. Brutalize! Season with spices like humans have never known. Braze your selection on the open fire allowing enough time to cook on each side but without loosing the juices within. I like mine medium rare.

Drink from the Chalice of the Gods. Drink the blood of the saints. I prefer a nice mineral water turned to red wine by Jesus himself.

The villagers and peasants are outside praising your conquests and await your next command.

Use the very brawn of both your hands and tear off a big piece of bread. Beat your right fist on the table once and yell at your women. Don’t use words because that only confuses the message. Simply yell: ahhhhhhhhhhh. This tells the female to quickly fetch butter to be melted and poured on your head!

Now eat. The day was good. You have a bounty of heads to shrunken later and you have hundreds of limbs of the offenders you conquered. Their livestock is now your livestock. Their peasants are now under your command and you are feared throughout the land.

Get some of the very juices this animal has died for on your beard and on your clothes. Look on with wild eyes and raised cup to the others that share in this feast.

Have your woman ignite the large image box so you can watch Grog and his cohorts get mutilated and dismembered by their opponents for your pleasure and amusement.

And now for a sensibly thinning yet decadent desert……

A Day In The Life

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 15:23:00 +0000

I went to New Jersey for a few days to see a friend in the hospital. The trip was fare and all I can say is I'm really lucky not to be him.

Beans and Greens

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 19:16:00 +0000

I wasn't big on spinach much less any kind of greens when I was
younger. But in the most recent years I have discovered I love greens
of any kind along with pinto beans. I make my own pot of beans and add
sausage, onion, a little garlic, beef bullion, jalapeno and sometimes
green pepper. Its a very healthy meal and it suites my personal tastes. You can also include chicken wings!

I also like steamed cabbage, kabasi sausage and steamed potatoes. And of
course cornbread which I make from a mix.

Totally awesome.

Its Almost Election Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 18:43:00 +0000

It's starting to getting really exciting. My youngest daughter who is by age now eligible to vote will be going out to make her choice for president. My other daughter, her husband and all her friends are joining in the fervor. It's going to be an inspiration to us all due to the sheer participation in our democratic process. Who will win? I wish I could say for sure. Good luck to everyone!

We're Open

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 04:46:00 +0000

My brother seems to think I disagree with him or don't like him for what he does sometimes or maybe because I haven't laid the facts on the table. And it's entirely true that often times we disagree. Simply put, we are brothers and brothers disagree. What brothers will disagree on may vary and it's really not that important so long as they disagree because it is healthy to do so.

My brother leads a good life and he has earned everything he has. He has created things out of thin air and put the money in the bank each event. He works around the clock and no endeavor poses any obstacles he can't overcome triumphantly and earnestly.

During and after hurricane Ike, my brother didn't pause with any self pity that his very own enterprise was in obfuscation nor did he once relent to any means of acceptance of failure or surrender. He got out the generator, found a hand saw and proceeded with or without fate to render him capable.

The power was out at his house near or after midnight the Friday of the hurricane. The very next day my mother kept reciting "are you going to call the power company?" and "is Monk coming over?". My mother is somewhat terminally ill with Alzheimer's. Fish oil isn't helping. Curt kept his patience, nodded his head and kept going.

His largest concern that followed was rather or not the power was on at his work where the server(s) for his website was powered and was to remain energized at all times. This wasn't planned for and the power was in fact gone for the time being.

Plan B: Get gas and get out the generator and hook everything up.

We drove over to the Camelback Displays office to find a miracle. With all the tree damage in the neighborhood and all the large and aged trees on his property at the office, not a single branch defecated the structure in any way whatsoever that housed his enterprise. Amongst all the greater and larger trees that could have done the worst damage, none so much as grazed the sides of the building.

We drove over to the nearby Lowe's and bought a couple of pairs of gloves, a hatchet and a hand held branch saw. After a few cuts and pulls, we made a make shift starter pile to reveal that even his wife's car wasn't dented in any way. Chris must have left her car there and rode home with Curt the days earlier.

So there's no power and it's Monday. A lot of people would have sat pretty on their hands and watched TV. The power was on at home now after all. No time for jokes and we need to get on our feet pronto! But there's good reason and then some. The two of them have a nice house out there where they live and they live a decent lifestyle. However, they also take care of two elderly moms single-handedly at a great and enormous emotional expense (and burden). It's also true the rest of us lend a hand from time to time. But our help is the equivalent of rain in the desert for the better end and it's only a fraction of their efforts. Let the truth be candidly known.

Monday's a wash. Mostly everyone shows up at the office as instructed. But no real activity. No power means no phone system, no ac, no lights, no computers but unfortunately no phone calls from customers. What's the plan? A stream of confidence emerges out of two brains. Load the cars with computers, the fax machine and whatever else. Call the phone company and have them transfer the phone number to the house! Let's move!

And move they did. I went over there a few days later and saw that each room downstairs of their house had transformed for the most part into a center of a little chaos combined with ingenuity and more importantly ringing phones and ……sales. With files on folding tables and people on the phone I felt as though I must walk with careful adherence (wood floors) and speak lightly as not to disturb any commerce being handled by the staff in close proximity.

Why am I telling you all this!??

My brother has had to make some tough decisions from time to time. In fact he made one today. I am sure he doesn't always like the keys God handed him and I'm sure he and his wife wish they could find the freedom they truly deserve. Curt makes decisions. But he also finds answers and solves problems. Curt stays up late and researches my mothers' illness by himself! The decisions one makes aren't always the popular ones. But not making any gets you what?

The decision he chose today, I agreed with. I probably didn't say it in the way I should have. But let me try again. I trust Curt to the utmost more so than the air I breathe. If he feels what he is doing is right, I have no choice other than to stand behind him, He is one of the most gracious people I know and has the most integrity out of all of us. I aspire to stand with two feet wearing his shoes.

His cell phone rings. Someone else answers. I stuff another spoonful of Chinese food in my mouth. "Yes….weren't open…yeah…we're fine. What can I do for you today?"……….

This Year So Far

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 17:46:00 +0000

Allot has happened this year so far. There have been some extraordinary events. For example, my oldest daughter got married and the wedding was spectacular. Also, and equally as important, my youngest daughter graduated high school, got accepted to a major culinary school in New York and now owns her own car. Unfortunately her grandma passed away a couple of months ago.

The mortgage business is mostly non-existant which leaves me to figure out what to do instead. I am planning some websites to sell stuff like home decor, mannequins, dress forms and store fixtures. I have eclectic tastes and hopefully I'll aquire customers of the like.

After hurricain Ike, my brother moved lock stock and barrel everything from his office to his house along with about 7 employees to continue working and stay afloat. His office didnt have power for more than two weeks and things looked bleak. But he and my sisterinlaw pulled it off famously. I am truly proud of them both. Oh yeah. And my oldest daughter works for them and she stayed on board the ship and helped too.

What's ahead? Well.......Hillary won't be our first woman president. I was actually hoping she would have got the nomination but it's my opinion her campagne against Barack Obama got out of hand with smears and inuendos.

Just when you think things are either OK or couldn't be worse, Sara Palin hops your fence and poops in your pool. McCain is too fuckin old and Palin is an outrageous plymbletwit. Now what? You'd better go vote! McCain could get sick and croke and we get stuck with that..........that voice! Politics is so hideous. I'm glad I'm just a bumb.

Back To Marilyn

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 05:56:00 +0000

Suddenly as if out of no where, Marilyn appeared and Amy had an instant grandmother. About 10 years ago Marilyn succeeded in her search for her daughter she was forced to put up for adoption at the infant’s birth. That would be Amy's mother Cynthia. The reunion (or union) took place not far from here. Marilyn brought en tow her siblings Jan and Joyce who immediately became Aunt Jan and Aunt Joyce. Joining the entourage were Jennifer and Natalie, daughters of the aunts. Cynthia ever thoughtfully called yours truly to deliver her daughter Amy (then about 8) in order to show her off. Can't say that I blame her. Amy was a jewel back then and the ladies found her to be an utmost delight. Marilyn was overjoyed and so was Amy. After all, Amy really never had a mom figure with the exception of her aunt Chris, my sister in law who could only fill the void as well as anyone could much less aunts and cousins. And of course Amy lived with her dad. I leave that up to interpretation.

Biological mothers across the western hemisphere experience buyer's/seller's remorse (or adoptor's remorse?) after the fact. One might put labels on such women. One might consider the conscience of such a choice whatever the circumstances. Certainly thoughts pass to and fro with regard to a better home for the infant or a better life. Or maybe there is an insurmountable realm of guilt no one else could possibly fathom. Financial reasons could come into play or personal problems or criminal and legal issues. Or maybe it's because of plain old fear. Dodge the question. Leave the answer. Forget the reason. Buy some time and clean up your act. Bedevil your own soul with thoughts that transform into destruction (or destructive behavior or worse). Do you wonder of how it might have been? Do you fantasize any number of scenarios? Judge and ye shall be judged. Can you do the unthinkable? The impossible? What should I do? What have I done? These calamitous thoughts travel through the mind. I can’t imagine. Can you?

There are hundreds, possibly thousands of non judgmental organizations across the country facilitating a mother's quest to find their already adopted child. Some of these women have waited until the child had turned 18 or of legal age before records could be unsealed or discovered. Thus the hunt begins and so it shall. Endless letters (now e-mails) as well, phone calls, paperwork and prayers. Allow me to plagiarize a bit from a forum I found with great ease through Google:

"Parents who have given up their children for adoption are welcome on our adoption registry. If you are a birth mother, trying to find adopted children you gave up, we are here to help. We understand that circumstances in a person's life can be difficult, and that as a child's natural mother you may have known the best choice for your child was an adoption. Often a father was not given an opportunity to be involved in the adoption decision, so an adoption registry can be your only option to find adopted children. At iwasadopted.com we help adopted children with finding biological parents and we help biological parents find adopted children. Everyone is welcome!"

But there's more! And behold wishes can still come true. Be careful what you wish for. In the end it could be something a person may have as fuel for more guilt and further self loathing. You may not get my point, but I do for what it’s worth.

Cynthia was in fact Marilyn's long lost daughter. Or at least the daughter she gave birth to. It was just a matter of time before the relationship found its unsuitable closure. If not in one way, in another less caustic and not so surreal, but a sad way nonetheless. At least it was sad for Marilyn's new granddaughter.

Amy's grandmother would come to Houston to visit and see Amy several times and go to her soccer games. Marilyn was having the time of her life. Amy would go to Kansas City and stay with Marilyn and her husband Larry during any given summer. Or she would go stay with them at Thanksgiving in Shreveport where her aunts lived. Amy loved her grandmother and Marilyn adored Amy. My oldest daughter graduated from college in Kansas City one year. As it happened, Larry and Marilyn lived near Kansas City. We all celebrated including Marilyn, Larry and all of us. It seemed for a brief moment as if our family's dysfunctions were alleviated and we were a family in full force with pride and unity.

I couldn't give up either of my daughters and apparently neither could Marilyn. Out of all of those thousands of mothers still looking, hoping and searching, some will find their child and some won't.

Back to Marilyn. Maybe Marilyn wanted to finish school uninterrupted. Perhaps she didn’t have a family as forgiving that would allow a pregnancy outside of a marriage. Maybe she didn't have the acceptance of the father (not Larry. He came later). Or maybe she was young. I'd like to think she was merely human. But she redeemed herself a thousand fold and her endeavor was true to herself. She may not have found the daughter she lost although they laid eyes on each other. But her redemption and strife brought her a granddaughter. As she once put it, “we found Amy”.

I never asked Marilyn what happened or why. I couldn’t just trespass on that softer ground unless invited and I wasn’t. I’m just thankful that Marilyn arrived at some point in our future.

A few years ago Marilyn was diagnosed with cancer. Larry and family members put Marilyn to rest at the age of 60 on Friday August 9th. Amy made the trip at random notice to the funeral and was in attendance amongst her family.

I admire Marilyn not only for what she accomplished, but more so for what she gave. Love.

Vince Gutierrez * August 2008

I Am Still Here

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 19:48:00 +0000

I began my mortgage business back in January of 1998. I met two gentlemen that had an office in Katy with plenty of spare space and a desk for me to sit with a phone. They simply told me to bring my stuff and use their office and go out and get some business. I had just finished an adventure marketing and selling health insurance that later became unreliable for any form of a paycheck. So I tried my hand at selling mortgages. I had always had a background with accounting and real estate, so I seemed to fit right in.

My coworkers then were doing a lot of subprime and FHA loans. Both gentlemen charged a fortune to whom ever they would sign up to do their mortgage. Although I was impressed, I soon realized I wasn’t looking for suckers. I was looking for people I could help. At the time I had one big real estate investor as a customer along with a variety of other cases. One of them was a young guy that bought an abandoned Heights property and refurbished it. He started from scratch and didn’t have any cash to work with. He got a loan through me for the acquisition and did all the work himself.

Another was a church school teacher that simply wanted to buy a home for herself and her two kids. I was able to get her an FHA loan at a time when those loans required a multitude of documents along with originals. Faxed copies weren’t allowed at all. It was amazing I even got any of them funded. But I had no experience and allot of time to drive all over the place and pick up signatures and documents.

My other customers were a mix of credit issues and other challenges. I didn’t mind at all. I had perhaps 13 customers that first year. I didn’t score the grand prize for my efforts, but I got paid and learned a great deal about the business, people and their issues. Every single customer of mine had some form of a past problem be it past due child support, late payments, bankruptcies, collections and what have you. I didn’t care. I wanted business and I was used to solving problems. These were easy compared to my own!

I took a personal approach to my few customers. I really wasn’t that experienced in business and I didn’t know any better. While my mentors were practicing a variety of forms of hard selling, high pricing and generally confusing their customers into ultimate surrender, I confided in mine to the extent that I wasn’t sure of what I was doing and I had to do allot of on the spot research. My biggest allies were underwriters. Their entire credo was document everything and don’t allow dishonest practices persuade you to sacrifice your integrity. No one said that. Those are my words but that’s accurate of how they operated. But the folks I knew then are still in the business today and always will be at their discretion as they are unwilling to compromise their tradition of accountability to guidelines. In other words they weren’t the type you hear about that could or would be bribed if that were the case. I was never sharp enough to play that game anyway. So I had to be honest.

My two mentors were night and day and they were brothers. One would practice integrity in NOT fudging and forging documents while the other brother practiced all sorts of unscrupulous things LIKE forging a signature here and there, paying kickbacks to realtors and who knows what else. I guess one might characterize the two as Cain and Able. However, both gentlemen charged in fees their weight in gold at all times. The more honest of the two is still in business while the other brother lost his license, faced charges and addressed a judge some time ago.

I faced situations where a new wholesale lender would emerge offering lower pricing and rates to where I can still offer lower rates and still get my dog a hair cut and drive around in my Honda keeping all my customers happy until that lender went off the cliff leaving yours truly holding the bag. That has happened more than not. I have also faced builders corrupting the picture giving my customers a lump sum credit towards the end of a transaction that was already built into an inflated priced home IF my customer were to use their mortgage company and also their title company. This has happened more than I care to go into except that for the last few years each event has crippled me financially. Some how these builders were able to convince an unknowing borrower that it’s a good deal and the 5K we give you will cover your taxes and closing costs even though the rate might be similar at best to the rate I offered. Good for them. They are also in the news as we speak.

I have never forged a signature. I have never paid a kick back and I loath giving some go between like a realtor so much as a pizza for doing a job they benefit from anyway. Why should I? I am much like the teacher at the church trying to make ends meet and own a home and the guy that bought the rehab in the Heights for his first home. But I am also like the career underwriter that refuses to look the other way.

The teacher that got her FHA loan still lives in the home today and she is making her payments. The investor has evolved beyond needing me for any reason. The Heights guy is in his second home and is raising his family somewhere in Cypress.

I took on a good number of subprime candidates. The ones that got loans through me also had to sit there and accept my lectures regarding responsible credit choices, paying on time, morality and so on. The subprime customers I worked for I handpicked. I didn’t want to be a “shop” that simply wrote low grade paper for a buck. I wanted to have a good business with a reputation. And I wanted to stay in the business.

Why am I telling you all this?

Customers have to have low rates and low fees or at least as low as possible. There are too many third parties with their mitts in the pockets of my customers to the unbearable. In my opinion the entire industry is fool hardy with too many hurdles for customers. I ordinarily wouldn’t charge an origination fee if I could help it and I only charged 1% to those that had some difficult problems to where my time would be kidnapped entirely by their difficulties. But I was fair and I still am to date.

As a result my customers have sent me their grown children, aunts and uncles, coworkers and acquaintances. I am truly grateful and then some.

My customers have faced delays and reversals against their will and not by my hands. The unknowing public has yet to see behind the scenes of all the chaos involved in the practice of mortgage lending and very seldom is a deal an easy one regardless of perfect credit, vast amounts of reserves in the bank or any number of positives on the borrower’s side. Things happen. Properties get designated wrongly in flood zones. Some properties look like a deal until an appraisal is reviewed and the price turns out to be wrong. I won’t even mention how so many thousands of self employed people get the shaft for whatever reason without an explanation or for just being what they are, self employed. I mean that in earnest and I am on their side as well. The latest debacle is getting condos approved as “warrantable”.

Aside from the stress and the numerous disappointments over the last 12 months, I still enjoy what I do. I sit here at my computer with my dog lying on the floor as I watch rates and watch the unfolding mortgage crisis hoping for a turnaround in the market leading back to a moment when my phone would ring on a regular basis.

What’s my point? I am not going to quit and I am still here……..

Vince Gutierrez | July 2008

Weather Proof Fence and Decks

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 21:56:00 +0000

As I drove around Houston in the months leading to spring and then summer, I saw how the terrain begins to regain its color. I see lawns becoming freshened by green replacing the dusky color it survived in colder months. I see homes become gradually brighter as leaves are brushed off roofs and out of gutters. I see residential dwellings shimmer as window glass becomes clean and polished. I see trees being trimmed and shrubs manicured. People spend winter months after the holidays regrouping their energy and making plans as spring approaches, planting bulbs and looking at catalogs. Home improvement is on everyone's minds. Some of the fences on the outer boundaries of these homes look gray and old. Some don't. They don't because they were never protected with any kind of treatment like stain to make them more durable and face the elements.
The ones that did receive a protective stain coating upheld their beauty year round. Fence stain isn't expensive and it acts as a wood defender. If you've lived in Houston any length of time, you know we are always on the defensive be it mildew or soil that makes our foundations sink or any number of attacks from the elements. Wood decks with deck stain resist all sorts of deterioration that standard paints will never accomplish. Wood decks are not only practical but beautiful to look at and enjoy at one's leisure. Why not protect it and your wooden fence with some sort of wood stain spray and fend off any number of offenders besides moisture. A good sealer will do the trick! And besides the beauty, it adds value and saves money as the wood lasts longer.

You can go to the nearest hardware store and buy allot of stuff in order to attempt to do it yourself. Or you can save time and effort AND get it done right by someone who knows how to get it done correctly and properly and will do a fantastic job. You need to contact DC Staining. Call them at 713 205 - 4158 or e-mail any questions you might have to dcstaining@gmail.com

Vince Gutierrez - June 2008

Cool Stuff For Stiffs Like You: Camelback Displays

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 04:27:00 +0000

Cool Stuff For Stiffs Like You: Camelback Displays

Blood of the Sun - Remembering Leslie West

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 09:09:00 +0000

Blood of the Sun - Remembering Leslie West

I went to the Winterland Auditorium in January of 1972 with Jack Martin, Chris Iverson, Mitch (Jack’s brother who drove us in his van) and one other guy whose name has escaped my memory and perhaps permanently. We were headed to see a West, Bruce and Laing concert. Winterland was legendary. Winterland was in San Francisco, a short 1 hour or so drive from where we lived. We got high on the way.

Mitch’s white Ford van was basically transportation for his band and any band his brother Jack played in. Jack was 16 while Mitch was a high school graduate at 19 living at home taking night classes at Deanza College in Cupertino California where we all lived. All of us except for Mitch played guitar. Mitch was a drummer and a good one at that. Mitch was an old school rudimentary by the book student of percussion that still held his left drum stick traditionally in spite of the rock explosion where drummers held both sticks full frontal. If you are a drummer, you probably know what I’m talking about even though my description might be somewhat …. maladroit.

Jack Martin was a John McLaughlin aficionado and spent most of his spare time imitating him as best he could. Curt Iverson was his best friend growing up and was his most endeared fan even though he himself played guitar also. Curt just didn’t play very well. He was tolerable otherwise. Where Curt lacked in musical talent, he made up with his Zig Zag and/or Top rolling skills.

Smoking weed wasn’t what all Cupertino kids did back in the beginning of the seventies and it certainly wasn’t the worst with respect to where we lived in relation to San Francisco, Oakland, San Jose and in spite of all the Hell’s Angels all over the place. Drugs were everywhere, easy to obtain and became a social staple for just about any age group, social level, sect, what have you and trumping booze next to none. Weed was cheap and sold to the tune of ten dollars an ounce. So, in essence kids did little to obtain small amounts of the herb either by collecting pop bottles, using allowance or hording lunch money as a means of funding the splendorous vice. I am reluctant to admit I and others smoked pot before school every morning. At least my kids didn’t come out deformed as we were all told would happen back in those days.

Before we moved to California, my family lived in Anchorage Alaska where I played in a quartet with the likes of Joe Booth (Mad Loone), Dave Talbot and Norm Jerue. As a band we played Allman Brothers covers as well as Cream and other popular songs. We used to practice in the Talbot’s living room which was upstairs. Downstairs Dave’s brother Mike’s band practiced. They played a song that caught my attention, Blood of the Sun by Mountain. We didn’t bother with Mississippi Queen and neither did Mike’s band. No one could sing it! However, the basement group pulled off Blood very well for as far as basement band standards go. Good stuff. It rocked!

Leslie West was the prominent guitarist in the band called Mountain. Since all three original members including Corky Laing and Felix Pappalardi were from New York State, the Appalachians come to mind. I have no clue where they got the name. Maybe it was Leslie West’s size? To a thin 14 year old, he looked fat. He wasn’t. He was just big and barrel chested.

Leslie West for all intents and purposes was an impressive guitarist and had influenced sparse lots of American and British heavy rock (hard rock). Truly Leslie had a gutsy voice that was full, robust and bluesy. More importantly he had skill. One facet of that skilled talent was a simple act of bending a string a full step and holding a sustained vibrato. Don’t know what I mean? Maybe you should leave now before my explanation daunts you as if I am smacking you profusely about the head and face.

Ordinarily, Slowhand (that’s you and all the other uninitiated), the full step bend and vibrato peters out before the guitarist realizes how lame he will continue to be from that moment forward. You see, West discovered the common use of the vibrato and applied it to his shape and style which made a lasting impression on most rock (and blues) guitar players forward through time. That sustain he produced was phenomenal. Blood was really an arbitrary combination of guitar and bass playing eighth and quarter notes in unison to a heavy rocking beat similar to Led Zeppelin’s “Heart Breaker”. Emphasis of West’s vibrato became more withstanding with “Dreams of Milk and Honey” from “Leslie West – Mountain” (the album). The vibrato in that song and the feel of it closely identifies West’s perception and sound. Mississippi Queen has the same notes voicing the expression with the lead playing on top of and over the tune as well. But you’d see what I mean upon hearing Dreams of Milk and Honey.

OK. So I go out in the fuckin snow and buy Mountain records with my hard earned paper route money so I can stay up all night learning and pretending to be as good as Leslie West. Well….except for the gut anyways. I even started wearing my Fender (racing striped) Mustang low near or below my belt as was the style with hard rockers like West and Page. If you are making fun of me at this point, remember I know where you live and I will kick your ass!

Off to California.

It was an ordinary Cupertino late afternoon. The five of us met at Jack and Mitch’s house where we got high and speculated how cool the concert was going to be. Largely we debated as to why Leslie West and Corky Laing gave Felix Pappalardi his pink slip to be replaced by legendary Jack Bruce. Curt Iverson kept playing Crossroads by Cream (live version) on the stereo over and over trying to figure out if Jack Bruce was saying “ Eric Clapton on the vocals” or…..” Eric Clapton. Uh hah huh”. Did I mention Curt Iverson liked mushrooms a little too much? Piling into the van, Mitch was prudent in explaining the rules of the exclusive travel arrangements of his one and only van that was as precious to his love life as his penis. Mitch dated a lot. And keeping the van clean no matter the circumstances was paramount.

We arrived in San Francisco later that evening. As the brothers argued about parking and other meaningless civilities, I stuck my head out the window to stare in awe at the building that was Winterland. Bill Graham (rest in peace) a nostalgic concert promoter and genius owned the Fillmores east and west as well as Winterland. And Winterland was an old building big enough for rock shows and about 2 or 3 thousand seats. Everyone including Hendrix played at Winterland. I am certain I don’t remember how big it really was. It just looked big to me at the time. Winterland was my 3^rd rock concert. Before that was Rare Earth followed by Quicksilver Messenger Service. The world of rock was still very new to me.

A local San Francisco band opened the show. Following them was Crazy Horse without Neil Young. They all sucked and looked like pussies. I was there to see a legend! To my surprise there was more than one. This night was upon us all.

Following the opening acts lights were coming up instantly. You could smell dope for miles. Microphones were being tested along with snare drums. The crowd was sharing flashed breasts and joints. Very beautiful flower girls filled my dreams for weeks on end. A lovely beginning of adolescence and a fitting venue to scorn the established elite. Lust, vice filled behavior and rebellion. We were still getting high. We had no alcohol. Pot was our drug du jour. I can’t remember if Winterland even sold beer. Someone had a joint of “Rocket Fuel” which I was told was laced with ether. Who knows? At last I was a hippie. If only my friends in Alaska could see me now.

The lights came down just as the crowd began moaning, then yelling, then standing. My throat swallowed as I rose and stood along with my peers. This was happening. This was real unlike the pictures in Circus Magazine. This was a rock concert. When the lights go down even today whenever I’m at a concert, I still get that momentary surge of excitement combined with a lump in my throat. I know of no other sensation high or not.

Corky Laing walked out on stage from behind his drum kit, stood and waved at the crowd slowly towards all sides of the arena. A millisecond of a brief hush. Jack Bruce and Leslie West walk out almost simultaneously from opposite sides of the stage. A loud and booming voice from beyond the abyss that could be heard as far away as the Appalachians thundered: “Mr. Leslie West, Mr. Jack Bruce and Mr. Corky Laing”. The crowd was full with pandemonium. Jack Bruce was the most impressive in a satin shining bluish suit with West in a very well lit white suite and Corky Laing shirtless.

They began playing all at once without even so much as a count tapped out by the drummer’s drumsticks. The chords powerful and without senseless noise yet an avalanche of guitar distortion smooth and electric. The drums were saturated in guitar and bass until they began to play Doctor, one of the tracks from West, Bruce and Laing’s first album. Jack Bruce did most of the talking. His English slurred by the unknown and his announcement drowned out by enthusiasm. But when Jack Bruce sang, you knew why you were there. It hadn’t occurred to me Bruce was with Cream. I just stepped over the thought in lieu of seeing West live. Jack Bruce was so real he was somewhat scary to me. He was so fucking famous. I had only seen maybe a few hundred pictures of him on album covers and in rock magazines. Yet, there he was.

Corky Laing had two snares. I wasn’t impressed but I had to hand it to him. Drummers in the audience must have talked about the two snares for years afterwards. I certainly would have. I actually liked Laing’s playing in spite of two steering wheels. A steering wheel steers a car while a snare drum…..oh never mind! Laing wasn’t your average time keeper. He was flamboyant and possessed a certain vibrant showmanship that drummers copied from then on because of him. An example might be raising his right hand high in the air holding his stick pointed skyward for a pause in a song only to resume the powerful beat accordingly. Another was his breaking of drum sticks in large numbers. Now that’s rock and roll!

Leslie West was everything I had pictured and had heard about him and much more. He came out on stage wielding a Gibson Flying V. He looked like a huge man. He really wasn’t. But what mattered most was he played note for note all the true Leslie West guitar licks, sounds and vibratos imaginable. His voice was so powerful, it sounded as though he didn’t need a microphone to bellow out his bluesy voice. He possessed a little (or a lot) of that Little Richard rock and roll voice type sound with the way he sang. How incredible?! How utterly amazing!? Yes I was stoned. But I also stood there and stared for the fact that I felt like I was watching the universe giving birth.

West, Bruce and Laing did NOT play Mississippi Queen nor Sunshine of Your Love much to my relief. They did however finish with one of their 3 encores with Dreams of Milk and Honey only, Jack Bruce sang it! Fucking incredible! These guys shaped rock and roll for all of us. These gentlemen are truly rock stars AND legends. That concert happened only once. I was there and so were my friends whom I have never spoken to since I moved away from California and my family and I moved to Texas that summer. It was truly a fond memory and I feel I was blessed and privileged to have witnessed history.

The crowd remained animated as we all filed out of Winterland. My dad was just as new to San Francisco proper including Cupertino as I was. He worried about me hanging out with the wrong crowd and so forth. But none of my friends were the wrong anything. We were all just American kids. Jack. Mitch, Curt, the other guy and myself turned the corner of the building. My dad had just pulled up in his company car to get out and ask me if I was OK and did I want to ride home with him. I told him I was fine and I was OK riding home with my friends. He drove all the way to San Francisco to check on me. As I said San Francisco was a new place for our family and certainly a lot different than anyplace we had ever lived before. I can’t say that I blamed his evident fearful worries. I fully understand especially now and having had teenagers of my own.

I was fortunate to see this concert and many others that made a lasting impression on my life. I saw Leslie West a second time at Liberty Hall in Houston years later. Leslie West is still alive and probably older than dirt as far as I know. My father passed away some years ago. I only mention this because looking back I wished I would have road home with him more often and of course even after that concert.

Years later I worked at Parker Music in Houston with Larry Weinstein, Leslie West’s brother. (Weinstein is West’s real last name….oops)….. Years following I began to market my own guitar strings called Skull Rockers Guitar Strings. Larry had moved back to New York to run some family member’s restaurant. I had his number and I called him to ask if he felt like Leslie would endorse my guitar strings. He advised me to call his mother and ask her to get in touch with him. I did. She answered the phone. I presented the proposition. She squawked “fat chance!”.

I actually spoke to Leslie West on the phone eventually. It was around 1987. I don’t remember how I finally was able to reach him. All pleasantries ensued in our phone conversation. He asked me a dozen times who I was and how I got his number followed by a polite “no thanks”. So much for Rocket Fuel!

Links:

http://www.mountaintheband.com/leslie/leslie.htm

http://www.myspace.com/lesliewestmountain

Mountain was formed in 1969. The band eventually called it quits in 1972.

Leslie West, Felix Pappalardi and Corky Laing

Songs:

Mississippi Queen, Theme From An Imaginary Western, Nantucket Sleigh Ride, Blood of the Sun

Vince Gutierrez – June 2008

You Need Cash! Click Here Now!

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Wed, 28 May 2008 17:00:00 +0000

You Need Cash! Click Here Now!

HELOCs are back! HELOCs are basically lines of credit based on the equity in your home. You can take out a loan in the form of a HELOC or 2nd lien to raise cash, buy a pool or do some remodeling or several other reasons and needs.

Cash-Out Refinance

A refinance transaction in which the amount of money received from the new loan exceeds the total of the money needed to repay the existing first mortgage, closing costs, points, and the amount required to satisfy any outstanding subordinate mortgage liens. In other words, a refinance transaction in which the borrower receives additional cash that can be used for any purpose.

In many cases you can include the total closing costs for a refinance transaction within the new loan. This allows the borrower to refinance the property with minimal out of pocket expenses.

Normally the only out of pocket expense for a refinance transaction is the appraisal fee which is paid COD when the appraisal takes place.

Cash out sometimes hinges on the value of your property. So talk to your lender and see what the comparable values (comps) are for your property before moving forward.

In addition to the value of your property, you may be limited by your FICO score and how many late payments you have made in a 12 month period as to what Loan To Value (LTV) you can cash out to. A poor credit rating may mean a lower LTV that you can cash out.

You can take cash out for many reasons, home improvement, debt consolidation, vacation funds or just extra cash on hand.

Texas cash out loans have some of the strictest guidelines available. Homestead owner-occupied properties can have an LTV no higher than 80% and the homeowner must have a 12-day waiting period before closing.

Cash out loans frequently allow consumers to save money by paying off higher interest rate debts with the proceeds from their refinance

Rates on cash out home loans are typically much lower than those on credit cards and other types of consumer debt.

By taking a cash out loan to pay off credit cards or other debt, you may be able to write off the interest on your taxes. You should talk with your tax advisor for more specific details.

Cash-out refinance differs from a home equity loan (HELOC)in a couple of ways. A home equity loan is a separate loan on top of your existing first mortgage. A cash-out refinance is a replacement of your existing first mortgage. The interest rate on a cash-out refinance may be lower than the interest rate on a home equity loan.

Cash-out for funding an investment makes sense. Instead of remaining dormant as equity in your home let your money work for you in an investment vehicle.

Need money for College? Refinance your home now and fund your children's education while reaping the tax benefits.

The holidays are nearing and your short on cash. You can do a cash-out refinance instead of using credit cards and you will enjoy a lower rate and payment.

Cash out-Refinance also considered in Debt-Consolidation or Cash in hand. Money can be used for a future investments, College, IRA, or Retirement Account. Money can be used to pay off current monthly debt which could lower your personal Debt to Income. Consult a Mortgage Professional in regards to how much you should extract from the EQUITY built into your HOME.

There is no better way than to combine all of your non-deductible debt and turning is to all deductible. This is also a great way to free up cash for investing.

Some types of properties will have cash out restrictions. You should check with your lender or broker to find out what types of properties have them and what the maximum loan-to-values (LTV) are for those properties.

Cash-out refinancing differs from a home equity loan in a couple of ways. First, a home equity loan is a separate loan on top of your first mortgage; a cash-out refi is a replacement of your first mortgage. Second, the interest rate on a cash-out refinancing is usually, but not always, lower than the interest rate on a home equity loan.

Simply defined, cash-out refinancing is when you refinance your mortgage for more than you owe on your existing mortgage(s), then pocket the difference

Of course, the best way to tell if a cash out refinance makes sense is to actually sit down and do the math. You can consult a refinance calculator and a home equity loan calculator and figure out how much you will save in the long run. Compare the total amounts you will spend in interest and fees. Contacting a loan specialist should be able to help you figure out what makes sense for your needs.

A cash-out refinance is the process of taking out a new mortgage at an amount that exceeds the existing balance on the current mortgage in order to refinance the original mortgage and receive additional cash for other uses. A cash-out refinance will often carry a slightly higher interest rate. The higher rate is based on studies of delinquency and default which indicate that borrowers who do a cash-out tend to have poorer payment records than borrowers who don’t. The theory is that borrowers who need cash are financially more vulnerable than borrowers who don’t, and in some cases they may be more likely to fall behind on their mortgage payment.

Note: If you are refinancing to consolidate non real estate debt, you are doing a cash out even though you may never receive any cash directly.

The interest rate charged on the "cash out" portion may be less than the rate charged on a credit card. Using this financial tool to pay off high interest rate debt should be considered when consolidating loans.

When you refinance and take cash out to pay off your bills and consolidate debt, not only do you save the trouble and expense of writing and mailing all those different checks each month to all of your different creditors, you also can save up to 50% or more off of your current total monthly expenses. This puts money in your pocket each month, and can save you thousands of dollars each year.

When a borrower finances a new mortgage, that is more then the balance on the present mortgage, and take the cash difference for other uses.

Cash-Out Refinances allow you to use your homes equity now. Instead of waiting till you sell the property you can use the appreciation for things that matter now. Common uses for a Cash-Out Refinance are paying off student loans, credit cards and cars. Some people use the money for a much needed vacation!

Most loan programs call for the borrower to have 2 to 6 months of reserves after all closing and settlement costs of a refinance. This means if your total monthly payment (PITI) was $2500, you would be required to have verifiable and often seasoned money in liquid assets of $5,000 to $15,000. Fortunately, some lenders actually allow the borrower to count the "cash in hand" or residual cash received outside of settlement to count for this requirement. Thus, if you were getting $20,000 cash out net after all other expenses and pay-offs, your reserve requirement would be met without verifying personal liquid assets.

Most borrowers expect their payment to go up with a cash-out refinance, but you may actually be able to lower your payment AND take cash out. Your interest rate, LTV ratio, and cash out amount will all come into play.

Your home is one of the quickest growing investments. You can cash out in some cases up to a 106% of the house value depending on several different factors. A lot of borrowers use the cash out for home improvements, pay off high interest credit cards or personal loans, pay for school, personal use, etc.

In Texas, once a cash out, always a cash out. That means any more refinances down the line will have to conform to Texas cash out rules until the homeowner sells the home.

Pay off those high-interest rate, non-tax deductible credit card bills now with a cash-out refinance or a home equity line of credit (HELOC). Contact your trusted local mortgage lender today!

States and Lenders both have there own ideas on what is cash out and what's not. It's best to find a good broker to work with that is knowledgeable with both state and lender guidelines.

When you default on most personal debts, you cannot be forced to sell your home in most cases, whereas defaulting on a mortgage loan can end in a foreclosure. When doing a Cash Out Refinance to consolidate credit card debts, keep in mind that you are turning non-secure debts into a lien on your home.

Another popular use of the cash out refinance is to buy investment property. Sometimes first time investors will do this to get equity out of their primary residence for their first purchase and then snowball it using the same type of cash out loan to keep acquiring property.

Often investors use a product called a "no seasoning" home equity line.

They regularly use this to reap the equity from a property bought below market generally to reinvest in a new property. What "no seasoning" means is that the property could have been bought and closed on yesterday, and have a new loan taken out against it today.

Cash Out mortgages usually carry a slightly higher rate but lenders will often times allow up to 2000 dollars to be given to the borrowers at close before it is officially considered a cash out refinance with the higher rate.

With a cash-out refinance you can usually avoid getting a higher rate as long as you keep your LTV (Loan to Value) below 70%. So if you have a home worth 100k and you want to try to avoid the higher rate, try to keep your new loan amount at 70k or lower.

Depending on you credit you are not limited to 100% of the value of your home. With good credit you can take out a loan to 125% of the value of your home.

In Texas, the cash out refinance is limited at 80% LTV for an owner occupied property. Also, once the mortgage is refinanced as a cash out loan (Home Equity Mortgage), the mortgage needs to be refinanced as Home Equity mortgage in future refinancing. Once it was a cash out loan, it will forever be a cash loan until the property is sold.

Keep in mind that you may have to pay for private mortgage insurance if you borrow more than 80% of the value of your home even though you are refinancing and not purchasing your home. In order to avoid this, make sure you do not exceed the 80% mark. If you must, talk with your mortgage professional about the ways you can avoid PMI.

Some borrowers treat their home like an ATM machine, drawing upon its equity at every increase in value.

A cash-out refinance can be valuable when used properly. It may not be advisable to simply spend the cash out money on vacations or material objects. Be advised that this money is a loan that is accruing interest and must eventually be paid back.

Vince Gutierrez

Vinni100@netzero.net

Jimmy Page's Yardbirds

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 08:38:00 +0000

Jimmy Page’s Yardbirds

I was 15 when I lived in Cupertino California and went to see Led Zeppelin at Keezar stadium in San Francisco with my friends. It was near the end of the school year in 1972. I was finishing up my freshman year. Prior to that I saw Leslie West of Mountain and Jack Bruce from Cream play at Winterland also in neighboring San Francisco. Amazingly I still have both ticket stubs (somewhere).

What probably changed my life and my guitar playing was seeing Jimmy Page in person for the first time. Houses of the Holy had just come out and I bought a copy upon its release. I picked it apart note by note and guitar lick by guitar lick. Jimmy Page exceeded my expectations and I was thoroughly enamored by the whole Led Zeppelin spectacle.

I had a cousin who had told me he saw the Yardbirds several years earlier. Even though he told me he thought they sucked, I was impressed as I owned at least two Yardbirds albums. One had Eric Clapton and the other was a live album with Jimmy Page. One song in particular that impressed me with Page on guitar was “Over Under Sideways Down”. Page wasn’t on the original version of this song, but he did the tune justice live. There was a certain guitar lick that in hindsight was much alike a riff in Moby Dick and Heartbreaker from Led Zeppelin two. I’d have to show it to you. It much resembles what we guitar players might consider to be a “hammer-on”. Whatever!

The Yardbirds were obviously yesterday’s soggy cereal and Page was advancing without them. Clapton was long down the road with Cream and Beck had long since formed the Jeff Beck Group with a new talented singer by the name of Rod Stewart.

Jimmy Page knew in advance there would be little point in reforming and reinventing the already outdated Yardbirds. Its true Jimi Hendrix put a positive spin on playing lead guitar and bending notes, but Page learned how to bend strings from legend blues players. Hendrix didn’t invent it, he emulated it into his own style. Page did the very same thing but added principles acquired from years of playing in various musical settings. It’s been claimed Hendrix set the standard for heavy rock guitar playing which is an absolutely false premise.

The Yardbirds had a substantial draw when realized by ticket sales. It’s also true that Page saw the advantages of the larger crowds and bigger venues away from the club scene. Page heard a bigger sound that was very soulful, but also bigger than life. “Heavy”. The Yardbirds could never fit this profile Page had in mind. Robert Plant and John Bonham were the newer and more modern energy Page was hearing and wanted for the new band.

The band would need order. Page knew this well ahead of the venture. In the process of finding the right session musicians, Page enlisted an old friend, John Paul Jones. Jones would be Page’s production mate. However, instead Jones fit perfectly as a forth member of the band in a position where a handful of session musicians were discarded.

A small number of “takes” like Dazed and Confused had proved Jones to be more than just a sideman or a simple session player. Jones clicked with the band plain and simple. Page didn’t need to look any further. He had precisely what constituted the heavy sound he was striving for. From that point forward Page did what he did best. He wrote songs and guitar parts. Plant chimed in at first with basic lyrics and ideas he had penned previously with other groups that didn’t gain momentum and the nucleus of the writing pact had begun. Did Page write lyrics? Did Plant play guitar? Plant knew enough guitar to write melodies and Page knew enough about lyrics to fill holes and guide Plant’s amphonic voice and versatile talent. John Bonham provided a very strengthened and steady beat. John Paul Jones played all the right bass lines and filled in the missing pieces with his keyboard skills.

By the time the second Led Zeppelin album arrived at the record stores, album sales outpaced Led Zeppelin’s bookings not only in Europe, but in the states. By the summer of 1971, Zeppelin was touring their first album while their second album was airing and climbing to the top ten. The tour was halted momentarily to regroup and retool from minor television spots to greater plans of full scale shows in stadiums all over the United States.

Where the Beatles invaded America and played a good share of large auditoriums and large venues, Led Zeppelin conquered arrogantly and loudly. Led Zeppelin was a first of its kind and an invention of its own making. There was nothing close to the magnitude of Zeppelin in sound and stature. Certainly Zeppelin was so much louder than anyone else had been before. A newer and advanced sound technology was setting foot in large rooms and Led Zeppelin stepped in with two feet well planted.

But it wasn’t that Led Zeppelin was loud or had bigger amps than anyone had ever had. There was a lot of excitement in the air as rock was making yet another change and a new era was coming into play. Hearts were beating harder and toe tapping became stomping feet. The chords were struck and could be heard everywhere with Whole Lotta Love and the beat thundered with songs like Moby Dick. The new standard followed and we were all there to bare witness.

I was watching some Youtube clips recently of Led Zeppelin minus the deceased John Bonham with Jason Bonham filling in his place. Jimmy Page appears to be an older yet sober rock guitar god and Plant looks much older as well. But their songs still remain the same. So many young guns have tried to copy Page and very few singers come close to making the sounds Plant made as a young man fronting one of the greatest bands in rock and roll history. There just isn’t another Led Zeppelin somewhere else in time. This was the one and only. Ironically, when they are all finally gone and laid to rest, so will I.

Matilda

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 00:48:00 +0000

Matilda

The current state of credit in the US is the worst possible situation imaginable. Look at all the foreclosures. Look at all the ads to stop foreclosure next to the ads that tell you how easy it is to buy whatever you want on credit. How many people do you actually know that put money into savings on pay day? Do any of these folks still exist? Look at how our government is handling debt, not the debt to pay the lights at the White House, but the debt of the entire country. “Go out and spend” isn’t patriotic. It’s just plain stupid. And each sub middle class household across the country hasn’t two nickels to rub together much less pay their bills with the money they have. Why? They spent it and then some. But it’s not just them. It’s everybody else too.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not innocent either. You are looking at a guy that just sold next to the last of his music gear so his car insurance wouldn’t lapse and his utilities would remain on. And if the future yields promise, my application at the nursery across the way will be accepted and I’ll be pushing plants part time so I can keep my mortgage business operating on the fly. But worse, I am the (mindful of the penis) infatuation struck hero wannabe that forked over the remainder of his nest egg to bail out a girl I met on MySpace that would have lost her car and home hadn’t I arrived to save the day and keep her solvent to the tune of 10 months (about 15K) or so worth of bills (not my own). I am also the romantic goon that plunked down 2500.00 in small ones for a ring I never laid eyes on much less received for a girl I never married who has since then married someone else of course. I do have store credit. But I can’t get this jeweler in Georgia to sell me anything to close the account. I live in Houston. His store is in Georgia. He has no website. He’s about to have a different set of complaints (or at least a new one) come the following week. I’ll get into that another time.

For the last five years or so, it has been advertised for the masses that anyone with a pulse can obtain financing to buy a home of their choice with zippidy doo da down! My heart goes out to all of those folks that scrimped and saved for a down payment for the home they now live in. If their jobs are intact, they’ll be living there from now on and most likely until retirement. Simple planning promotes the least likelihood of failure. My parents were a class example and the model of doing it right to avoid catastrophe. My folk’s first home was less than 19,000.00 in Scottsdale, Arizona back in 1968. Their combined salary at that time wasn’t anywhere near 1000 bucks. Can you imagine that? In fact George, fresh out of college, got an offer from Shell Oil for a starting salary of 400.00 a month. When we moved to Arizona, Sylvia worked at Motorola for a trade wage of 2.50 per hour. How much did they save and for how long? I remember powdered milk. Had there been Romon noodles, back then they might have cost something like 60 for a dollar.

This was a few years ago. Sitting across from me at my office was a newly married young couple in their late 20’s. Our meeting was to determine what program they could qualify for so they could buy a new home. Their preconceived notions were neatly in a bag they brought with them. There weren’t any bank statements or tax returns. But some colorful brochures of homes on a man made water front somewhere in Sugarland. Leo and Carol were going to apply for a mortgage for a large home. Each of them has new jobs they had started in the last year or so. They have a couple of thousand bucks between them and as they have told me, their parents can help if need be. Groovy! I just love being an order taker instead of a consultant or counselor. Further, I pull their holy credit report. We have a few garden variety charge cards, a MasterCard, a his and hers visa, two car loans and some serious bad stuff (I am not allowed to say shit in place of stuff).

The bad stuff is as follows. We have a series of collections including medical entries like hospital visits for the emergency room or whatever. There seems to be an apartment complex that didn’t get paid at some point. That happens. There are a couple of cell phone companies unpaid for whatever reason. That’s acceptable. Back then, these cellular plans weren’t as liberal and cheap as they are today. So, I don’t blame our thespians here at all. But here’s the problem I have with these two. There seems to be a credit card with an outstanding balance of 12,000.00 (dollars, in case you are from a country that has pesos). Here’s why I have a problem.

For starters, after so many years of trying to maintain credit to the extent that I am able to have any credit at all, I have never even had an available credit line on any thrift account of more than 2000.00. I asked my applicants what’s the story with this credit card. Is it theirs? Is it a mistake? Here’s the answer they gave me. “We used that card for our wedding and honeymoon and we went on a couple of trips. Besides, we are disputing that card anyways….”. This is the part where my inner rage wants to increase the level from simmer. Yet I quietly remind myself my job is to provide a loan solution for these little monsters. After all, that’s what pays the bills and keeps my love life active.

Was it my place to be good cop bad cop and interrogate these little larcenists or should I lay low and make the deal happen? I selected the latter. After all, the credit report did state the entry was in dispute. I can’t imagine a mafia loan shark seeing it quite that way, but oh well. Besides, they got their deal and their parents loaned them 10,000.00 for the venture. What do I care?

Back to my parents and their first home. My mom found a used refrigerator in the newspaper to help furnish our new kitchen. The fridge was clean and well taken care off. She paid 20.00. In contrast, Leo and his delicious little minx opened an account at Conn’s and bought all the appliances straight out of the pictures in “Home Decorating Monthly” to suite their needs. Best Buy provided the entertainment along with a few extras. How do I know all this?

A few months ago they returned. The game had changed and some new hurdles were added. Deep in debt, a consolidation loan of sorts was on their minds. Looking at their credit made me fearful. It didn’t make me fearful for me. I couldn’t obtain their credit to buy a boat. They were not only maxed out, they had no equity. No equity because they didn’t put any money down and not enough time and payments had passed for them to be able to borrow anything using their home as collateral. I couldn’t even refinance them because rates were higher and the rate they were given was reasonably low compared to the present. I don’t even want to write about what I told them about credit counseling and how they could get some credit counseling company to negotiate their debt and get a lower payment.

What comes to mind is my mom. What would my mom have done in the above scenario? NOT A THING! She was never that stupid. She, like my father grew up poor in a coal mining town where the only available credit was at the Union Pacific store. IF and I mean IF Sylvia landed there in a debt crisis, she would probably knock on Motorola’s door with hat in hand. My dad would work at night drawing for other engineers and architects OR he’d sack groceries.

Leo and what’s her name might be in foreclosure. If they are, they join millions of Americans that don’t have a clue. As consumers we are seeing the results of this type of debt strategies. Let me regress. There is no strategy here. This is clearly theft. Credit is a privilege. If you can’t afford it, don’t buy it (sign it or whatever). Fucking up your credit and going into default makes interest rates go up and charge card companies rotate higher fees along with higher interest.

Sometimes I become so mad I could scream. But who would listen.

Back to my damsel in distress. The one I bludgeoned my nest egg for to ingratiate her life style momentarily. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Matilda.

Matilda experienced a divorce from a man that didn’t like to pay bills and yet spent the family’s money on extra marital affairs. Matilda was his second wife and he had two likeable kids from the first. Our lover eventually lost his house to foreclosure. It’s beyond me how he got it in the first place. Oh yeah. Now I remember. Ralph (that’s what we’ll call him) is somewhat like Leo. Let’s move on. Matilda receives a settlement from the divorce of about 10,000.00. Seems like a lot of loot. Sylvia would have saved it. I would have used it to pay some chick’s debt.

Matilda meets Lydia. Lydia works at a mortgage office as a loan officer. Lydia tells Matilda we can get you in a new home with no money down from a program titled “the Acorn Program”. “Woo hoo” Matilda exclaims. Now we’re off to the races. Lydia explains that the first couple of years are interest only so you can get on your feet. But afterwards, the payments will go up and the interest rate is adjustable. Matilda doesn’t flinch as she signs all the documents. Matilda sees the larger picture: “I can take care of Ralph’s kids and they can each have their own room”. That’s a nice Christian approach notwithstanding that meanwhile, our lover boy is still out spending money he doesn’t have on women that are someone else’s instead of paying for his own kid’s school supplies and clothing. I could write a book about this guy but I’d only sell one copy.

Matilda has decided the old clunker she is driving has seen better days and a better newer vehicle would be more prudent. She has a very valid point. If you have ever lived in Georgia, you have done your share of commuting from point “A” to points “B” and “C” and destinations in between. Gas isn’t cheap, so at a minimum you’d better have reliable wheels.

But wait! We just signed on the dotted line and committed the rest of our life’s income to a house payment that will eventually go up. Maybe we should have rented and then bought the car. Remember the ten grand? I’ll let your imagination linger with all the factors attributed to a new home in the hills, new car insurance, cable and whatever I have told you about Ralph’s personal life. Forget the ten grand. Some would characterize that amount of money as chump change. Sylvia wouldn’t have. Neither would I if I didn’t own and operate a penis.

If you are going to buy into the housing market, you should make some sacrifices and add up all your bills. But more importantly, you should save and plan for the event. I welcome with open arms the new bankruptcy regulations where you can’t just file to skip out on debt. I say this not for the reasons you might imagine. In fact how will my mortgage business survive if I can’t get Leo and his pals a loan? Even so, now Leo and his lady along with Ralph and Matilda are shit out of luck unless they pre plan and save from now on.

Our government in all their infinite wisdom is lowering bank rates as we speak to loosen credit. The credit that gets unrestrained, you’d think would go to businesses and enterprise to build a better and more stable economy while creating jobs and wealth. It’s not. It’s going to people like Leo that will never pay it back.

I remember hanging out in a library that was in Ralph’s neighborhood. I was there waiting with Matilda for Ralph to pick up his kids that happened to be with us. (They were nice kids. He is and always will be a total jerk). I wasn’t to be seen. I was holding up a book identical to a book Matilda had bought a week before from a book store we were at. It was a joke. She didn’t get it. Neither did I. The joke was on me.

Camelback Displays

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sun, 27 Jan 2008 23:20:00 +0000

Camelback Displays

I was thinking about going to a trade show and advertising my mortgage business there. Actually I was thinking of ex-girlfriends and finding some way to pay off my car. Both girlfriends and car payments cost money. So really I was thinking about money. And since I can't print my own due to possible legal snags, I will have to do one of several things to get some money. I have thus far ruled out gigolo, male model and stock broker.

Let me append my address of the trade show idea. It was my brother’s idea. For me to attend a trade show, I’d have to find clothes that would fit. But even worse, I’d have to go somewhere which would mean leaving my house, shaving and many other preparatory tasks for which, socially, I am not ready for. I am not a hermit. I do after all go out every evening and meet with others like me. I work at home and I seldom leave my desk where I am unwilling to abandon my computer for any length of time if I can avoid it.

I am a mortgage person. I do mortgages at home with the help of the internet and modern technology. My meals are prepared in small packages by factories all over the continent and mostly contain sodium and substitute sweeteners.

My brother, on the other hand, is the monarch of industry and has built a small empire selling stuff over the internet. Collectively items one might need if he were going to hang a shingle at a trade show booth can be had by the efforts of my mother’s youngest son. So you see, this wasn’t my idea. However good of an idea it might be to pack up a laptop and shout over the noise at a trade show, standing in a booth explaining to foreigners at an east coast trade show pavilion why I am superior in all ways and how I alone posses infinite financial solutions exclusively available to the chosen few (but really the public at large), this will not tear me away from my “precious”.

My brother, the aforementioned monarch, can supply to the most feeble up to leaders of nations all kinds of things that only a simpleton might imagine and an unprepared merchant marketeer might take for granted. His city of gold, www.Camelbackdisplays.com is the fore runner of immeasurable variety and value. My brother’s trade show displays encompass every aspect of success and bannered excellence. From the flooring under foot to the trusses and lights above. Table covers, banner stands, displays and so much more.

With sterling and spectacular splendor shall you stand out amongst the herd of other merchants and vendors with the polish and gleam that conveys success with the very products and services offered at Camelback. At their site, you’ll find all the cool stuff that your competition will have to do without! (Chicks standing around in bikinis at your trade show booth optional).

Tradeshows might be out of the equation for me. And writing blogs may one day help me realize my financial goals. The future is always uncertain. But what is certain is my brother will continue to work diligently to find new and innovative products to add to Camelback’s showcase. Did I mention my brother is the owner? The mention of it may or may not get you a discount, but give a try anyway. But while I remain contently seated in front of my computer, do be sure and say hello to Camelback’s eager to please staff for me.

A Few Things and Theres Nothing I Hate About You….

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 07:33:00 +0000

When I first heard about the sudden and not so dramatic death of actor Heath Ledger, I too like so many others jumped to conclusions. But my only conclusion was he ODed on something. With celebrities all too often that happens. And it especially happens to great performers and artists such as the young Mr. Ledger. My most immediate memory of Heath was his role in the Movie “Ten Things I Hate About You” starring along side Julia Stiles, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and David Krumholtz. Heath played a reluctant James Dean type who wondered into happenstance involving a beautiful blond prize, Julia Stiles. Later Heath would venture into bigger and more prestigious roles in movies like The Patriot and soon to be out, “The Dark Night” another Batman sequel.

Yes I remember “Broke Back Mountain” now that you mention it! Yes I saw the movie and I liked what he did for his character. The movie as a whole was very entertaining and original. But it had to be mentioned didn’t it? Why not? It was a movie about gay male love. And the innuendos must fly like all the political mud being thrown around on and off camera and all over the net and the airwaves. We must remember Broke fucking Back Mountain because maybe Heath denied God or Christ or something (by kissing a boy) and the only true repentance is death by sleeping pills. Until the first part of this week, I forgot about Broke Back.

If you want to mention that movie, you may want to mention its authenticity and the fact that Heath and co star Jake Gyllenhaal did a bang up job of being authentic! I must admit I wasn’t captivated by this flick. But I wasn’t equally inspired by Titanic either. In fact, as a joke, I mailed a copy of Broke Back to an extremely homo phobic friend in New Jersey as a joke. My best friend of several thirty years was out of the country when it arrived and his neighbors must have raided his mail because he never received it? Oops….. I wonder what his neighbors are saying about him now. A prank that yielded even better than expected results.

I forgot about Broke Back. Not that it should be forgotten. But why couldn’t Heath be remembered for his upcoming role as the legendary Joker in a Batman sequel? Batman is going to have one bitter angry teen on his hands this time around. Well, actually Heath is just this side of thirty. But he was certainly teenage and a very handsome heartthrob masculine type in the movie with Julia Stiles. Wait! Now I’m doing it too! Do I prefer a heterosexual role over a gay one? Aren’t I equally hypocritical?

You know what? It doesn’t matter what movie and it what context of a role he had played or would have played. Heath had a very keen and unpretentious real talent about him didn’t he? He was the kind of guy men of all ages wished they had been like at his age. You know the kind? The no nonsense approach, yet human, pretty faced yet manly, sword and spear talisman that guards kingdoms and only kisses chicks on the first date to help their self esteem because he’s a nice guy.

In Godfather IV, he could have played Anthony Corleone’s adopted cousin. In Legally Blond III, he could have played the politician’s accident prone son that Reese Witherspoon’s character would have to defend and of course succeed in doing so. I’m being silly.

OK. Maybe we should remember Heath for his part in Broke Back primarily over his other works save for the new Batman thriller! But in what context? And all for the purpose of labeling homosexuals as belonging to some sort of liberal montage or whatever? Can’t you hear Fox News blundering it now? “Heath Ledger. Best known for playing the homosexual lover in Broke Back…..died of a drug overdose……shear grief……sinful lifestyle….liberals are wailing…..dead career because of homo…..”. You get the picture.

I say we honor him! After all, he probably got to see Julia Stiles’ up close and personal…… There I go again.

None of it matters. He was a noble knight and a good man. A superb actor and a practitioner of the arts whose skill and attributes shall be remembered as a talent to be reckoned with and a soul redeemed. My heart goes out to his family who I am sure miss him even more so. I am sorry for your loss and ours.

Recognizing China

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Sat, 12 Jan 2008 22:25:00 +0000

I appreciate and I am thankful for many things in my life. Good things as well as bad things. I appreciate all the things for so many years I have taken for granted. But most of all I appreciate Heather and Amy my two daughters. I can’t even begin to count the ways that I am so thankful that they are part of my life and all the great things they do for me and all the happiness they bring me. I don’t even know where to begin to describe how I feel about them.

Heather throughout her life had always been giving and respectful of everyone and always helped her family. Heather was instrumental in helping me raise Amy when she was little and all throughout Amy’s life growing up and going to school. But also to this very day. Heather sacrificed part of her childhood to change diapers, cook food and babysat Amy while I worked or ran off with my girlfriends. I’ll never forget the summer when I was working and Heather was out of junior high when she stayed home with her friend Lana and watched and took care of Amy. When I finally found a day sitter for Amy that summer, I remembered when Heather had cried to me as to why I hadn’t done that sooner and the summer was almost over.

When Amy was little, Heather always put Amy first before herself. As Amy grew older, Heather included Amy in her social life and did things with her that ordinarily older sisters wouldn’t do. Heather also looked out for Amy in all things like when kids would make fun of the way she looked or say bad things about her.

All in all Heather was a good older sister and a better than good role model. If Amy learned anything about being a girl, Heather was the strongest influence and had the wherewithal to guide Amy directly.

Heather has always been a good ally to her friends and people she has come to meet. Or at least that’s my perception anyways. But what has surprised me with great delight is she single handedly bridged some of the gaps on her mother’s side of her family simply by giving them love and attention and recognizing them and appreciating the good people that they truly are. She recognized China.

Recognizing China was something Nixon did as president. In spite of his corruptness and abundant misgivings, Nixon actually opened a new world and created a dialogue between two cultures unwilling and afraid of each other. His membership in politics precluded him form being all the virtue he could be. However, that small effort by and large afforded our society many different perspectives.

The perspective of Cecil, Mary Lynn and company have modestly changed by Heather’s kind and governing hand over the most recent years.

But overall, Heather has maintained being a good scholar for which if her grandfather were alive he would be overwhelmed with pride. As close as Heather was with her grandfather, I have wondered what it would be like now if he were around to see her graduate college and to have seen her do the amazing things I have seen. But also wonder about all the things they might talk about. I can picture them bantering away at some subject no one but they understand.

I remember when Amy was probably about 7 years old or so. I had a 10 day free membership at 24 Hour Fitness on Westheimer. This place had a nursery for people like me that needed a place to dump their kids while working out. I remember the nursery was all glass so parents could eyeball their kids during their workout. I remember watching Amy spending time with a little boy in a wheelchair instead of playing with the other kids. She made funny faces and did things to make the little boy laugh. I remember watching Amy help the daycare attendant take care of a little baby rather than sit and color like the other brats.

Amy is like the statue of liberty beckoning the “less thans” in life promoting “come here where I am. You are acceptable to me. If no one else will, I’ll be your friend”.

I also, remember Amy giving reassurances to team members on the soccer field whenever they were crying because they got hurt in the game or at practice. All this, with one coach in particular showing favoritism to the more athletic girls instead of Amy and in spite of her efforts. Amy had that one coach who loved Amy for who she was and still asks about her whenever he sees me.

Another moment in time included Amy practicing a Christmas song from school on her saxophone with my guitar and drum machine playing accompaniment. Or the time Amy gave grandpa his cane when he couldn’t reach it when she was barely old enough to walk. “Here ya go grampo”.

Amy used to hug her teachers in grade school. That’s the type of person she was destined to become. Thoughtful, loving and caring. Just like her older sister. But that’s just like Amy because that’s who she is. I have always known Amy to be ever vigilant of others’ feelings.

Neither Amy nor Heather had any semblance of a real mother although each was born by one and neither mother left the fold for worthier causes. Heather and Amy may well tell you it turned out better that way. The fact remains family members like their aunt Chris had to step in and give guidance from a woman’s perspective. Did Amy and Heather deserve better? A real mom? Yes. Absolutely.

As a result, neither Amy or Heather behaved badly as children and teenagers, didn’t run off and get pregnant and quit school, didn’t steal cars for drugs, didn’t run around calling ugly kids names, didn’t hang around kids with guns and onward. They turned out better than OK. Heather finished everything she ever started including but not limited to school and Amy is heading in the same path. Amy too has been very meticulous with the books. She has a grand array of interests and ambitions. Culinary school, psychology and film to name a few. Its always interesting to listen to Amy talk about film makers.

Heather is somewhat of an authoritarian. But she has always had to be. Early on she had to marshal strengths and optimism against odds that compelled her at an early age. Once when I was broke and out of a job, Heather stepped up to pay our phone bill that had been past due for some time. How many times would she have had to apologize for me and my behavior and my irresponsibility?

Amy is somewhat of a pragmatist. If its square why should we bother with a round hole? Let’s just leave it on the floor next to our dirty clothes and all the other unresolved stuff we’ll get to later. But what can we expect form a girl whose mother left her in a store room at a bar she worked at to go run off and take care of some bullshit. But what we can expect is Amy will in her own time get to all of it. The practical side is Amy approaches most everything head on and leaving no stone unturned.

Did Heather ask to be put to the test of making things right and being the authorative proctor in household and family circumstances? Did anyone at least ask Amy to go through life confessing inadequacy to those that define adequacy outside of a true and perceptive reality?

Everyone deserves better. However, everyone deserves dignity. My daughters earned their own.

I don’t think anyone will get a parade in their honor for not cleaning their room or folding clothes. Certainly no one will nominate you for the best cranky and bossy person of the year award. But the authoritarian will probably keep us all solvent and alive. The one with the sloppy room will put a smile on the faces of all the “less than” peoples around and everywhere and spread the good fortune of being humanitarian.

What the future brings is no longer hope. Because we aren’t in despair. The future brings the new opportunity! The challenge to pick up the dirty laundry off the floor and clean the dirty room. And to teach others the benefits of your experiences that you were lucky enough to learn early on by the wise grandfather, the froogle grandmother, the single father who drank too much, the funny yet understanding uncle, the aunt who likes to shop with you anytime, the dead beat mom and the soccer ball up side the head.

If anyone asks me, I’d tell them I am grateful to have such great kids and at least I was there to watch. And to the both of them and to anyone reading this, I hope you recognize China…

The first post!

noreply@blogger.com (Vinni100) — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 21:34:00 +0000

I enjoy writing. I write from my heart and I write about personal experience. I take seriously most anything I write with very few exception. I hope you thoroughly enjoy what I have to share and I hope you appreciate what I have to offer. I trust you'll share any opinions with me in the form of comments and I will gladly accept your criticisms of anything I put on this page and also any suggestions. Let's enjoy this venture together and hopefully it will be not only a journey of promise but an adventure as well.

Vinni

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