Category Archives: Music
Today is the 45th anniversary of Elvis Presley’s death. It overshadows two other important musical events which took place well before The King fell asleep and never woke up at Graceland.
Elvis almost died at 15 months, thanks to a massive tornado on 5 April 1936 which flattened much of Tupelo, Mississippi, Presley’s birthplace. At least 216 people died and more than 700 were injured in what remains the deadliest tornado in Mississippi history. One day later, another tornado killed over 200 in Gainesville, Georgia. Surprisingly, Kansas has never had a tornado kill in triple digits; the highest was in Udall in 1955 which took 83 lives. The Greensburg tornado in 2007 killed 12. Twelve deaths are 12 too many, but how only 12 died in a storm which flattened 90 percent of the town is a minor miracle.
This isn’t a weather post. Back to what made 16 August so important in the musical world.
First, Madonna Louise Ciccone was born 16 August 1958 in Bay City, Michigan. In 1983, she hit the music scene as Madonna and hasn’t looked back.
Other than her music, Madonna was great on the big screen in A League of Their Own, portraying Rockford Peaches center fielder Mae Morabito, the quintessential party girl (at least, as much of a party girl as 1943 would allow). Certainly 180 degrees on the party spectrum from Peaches superstar catcher Dottie Hinson (Geena Davis) and grinder first baseman Helen Haley (Anne Elizabeth Ramsay).
Fittingly, the superstar singer contributed a No. 1 single, “This Used to Be My Playground”, to the soundtrack.
Madonna contributes the funniest line of the movie when Peaches manager Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks) stumbles into the clubhouse after another night of heavy drinking and immediately needs to use the facility. That line is something I haven’t been able to forget 30 years later. Much like “no shirt, no shoes, no dice!” from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which I watched twice this past weekend to celebrate the 40th anniversary of its release.
Ironic I should mention those two movies in the same paragraph. Between those movies, Madonna and Sean Penn were married for four years.
Four years following Madonna’s birth, and 11 days following the death of one of Madonna’s idols, Marilyn Monroe, The Quarrymen, a band in Liverpool, England, replaced drummer Pete Best with Ringo Starr.
Starr joined a lineup which featured John Lennon, George Harrison and Paul McCartney. The Quarrymen soon renamed themselves The Beatles, and the rest is history.
I enjoy listening to Elvis, Madonna and The Beatles. I loved Madonna from the first time I heard her as a seven-year old in late 1983 and early 1984, but I wasn’t as sold on Elvis or The Beatles. Both grew on me.
I’ll give you my lists of top songs from each artist. You might be surprised.
First, my top 10 from Elvis:
1. Burning Love
2. Jailhouse Rock
3. Kentucky Rain
4. Little Sister
5. Return To Sender
6. Don’t Be Cruel
7. Viva Las Vegas
8. Suspicious Minds
9. All Shook Up
10. Hound Dog
Next, my top 15 from The Beatles:
1. Drive My Car
2. Day Tripper
3. Come Together
5. A Hard Day’s Night
6. Twist and Shout
7. Hey Jude
8. I Saw Her Standing There
9. She Loves You
10. Magical Mystery Tour
11. I Want To Hold Your Hand
12. Get Back
13. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
14. Can’t Buy Me Love
15. Got To Get You Into My Life
BONUS: top 10 by solo Beatles
1. My Sweet Lord (George)
2. Jet (Paul)
3. Whatever Gets You Through the Night (John w/Elton John)
4. It Don’t Come Easy (Ringo)
5. Silly Love Songs (Paul)
6. Got My Mind Set On You (George)
7. No. 9 Dream (John)
8. Let ‘Em In (Paul)
9. Live and Let Die (Paul)
10. Ebony and Ivory (Paul w/Michael Jackson)
Finally, my Madonna top 20:
1. Who’s That Girl
2. La Isla Bonita
3. Material Girl
4. Live To Tell
6. Causing a Commotion
7. Deeper and Deeper
8. Dress You Up
9. Express Yourself
10. Into The Groove
12. Keep It Together
13. Lucky Star
14. I’ll Remember
16. Like A Prayer
17. Crazy For You
19. Take A Bow
20. Open Your Heart
There’s someone I know who loves a lesser-known Madonna hit, “Bad Girl”.
That’s all for now. Rest in Peace, Elvis. Happy birthday, Madonna.
I profusely apologize for not posting for almost four months. To summarize:
- Arkansas was wonderful, even though LSU lost all three games that weekend. I was reminded how great northwest Arkansas was and still is. The Razorbacks still have the best stadium in college baseball, and it has only been improved since my previous visit in 2003.
- The air conditioner in my car died AGAIN in May. It forced me to spend two nights in a Kansas City hotel in a terrible location with loud noise and outrageous prices (I had to use 51,000 Marriott points so I didn’t have to pay those outrageous prices–thank you NASCAR). I went to Des Moines and back to Kansas City after that was done. That was great. Then it all went to hell.
- June was one of the worst months of my life, at least the first 24 days. I won’t go into detail.
- July was hotter than fuck. I didn’t leave the 30-mile radius between Russell and Hays. I didn’t want to given the fucking terrible heat. Right now, Duluth is looking better and better. North Dakota will be too hot in 10 years. At least Duluth has the moderating influence of Lake Superior. I’ll trade minus-40 and six-foot snow drifts for Kansas heat. I lived in a sauna for 29 years and have lived in a blast furnace for 17. I have had enough.
- August has been hotter than fuck, save for a brief reprieve Monday (the 8th). It looks like it will continue to be hotter than fuck until after Labor Day. I hope no high school football players die in this heat. If any do, then coaches had better own up to causing those deaths. Many high school coaches have big dicks and bigger assholes, and they aren’t afraid to show it.
9 August 1963 now turns out to be a dark day in American history for two reasons: the death of Patrick Bouvier Kennedy, son of John Fitzgerald Kennedy and, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy (Onassis) and the birth of Whitney Houston.
Patrick Kennedy died only 39 hours after his premature birth. His lungs were grossly underdeveloped and caused death from hyaline membrane disease, now known as infant respiratory distress.
It was Jacqueline’s THIRD failed pregnancy. She miscarried in 1955 and gave birth to a stillborn girl in 1956. Somehow, she had two successful pregnancies which produced Caroline in 1957 and John Jr. in 1960. JFK Jr. was born 16 days after his father was declared victor over Richard Nixon in the presidential election, a victory which was possibly tainted by electoral fraud committed by Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, which tilted the Illinois vote towards the Democratic Senator from Massachusetts.
There is one reason and one reason alone why Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis had THREE failed pregnancies.
She smoked like a fucking chimney. THREE packs a day. THREE.
Anyone who tries to rationalize otherwise is stupid and nothing more than an apologist for the tobacco industry and Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis, who KILLED three children with the most vile habit one can acquire.
I despise tobacco and all of its iterations. At least people who chew tobacco are only harming themselves, not counting the disgusting spittle they produce.
Smoking tobacco harms EVERYONE around them. It is especially harmful for an unborn baby.
Nicotine addiction is worse than heroin. At least you’re only killing yourself with heroin.
I should know. I will never, EVER forgive my mother for continuing to smoke while she was pregnant with me in 1976.
Jacqueline Bouvier Onassis Kennedy and all those who pregnant women smoked before Surgeon General Luther Terry released his report in January 1964 had a weak excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. It doesn’t absolve them. It only makes it very sad nobody thought to link disgusting tobacco to severe health risks before 1964.
However, JFK’s wife should have known better after her miscarriage, her stillbirth and the difficult pregnancies which produced the two children who lived. She should have done everything she could have to quit for Patrick’s sake. But because she refused and had to have her three packs a day, Patrick was alive for only 39 horrifying hours.
Rosemary Bernadette Liuzza Steinle has NO FUCKING EXCUSE. The report was issued TWELVE YEARS before she got pregnant. She was in her second semester of college when it was released, and nearly seven years before she married my father, who smoked heavily for 30 years before somehow quitting cold turkey in September 1985. Not only was my mother smoking like a clueless bitch, she was breathing in my dumbass father’s second-hand smoke.
I will never, ever forgive my parents for that. It is why I have autism. I will believe that until I die.
I’m amazed Caroline Kennedy has never had serious health issues because of her mother’s nicotine habit. We won’t know about JFK Jr., because he was too stupid to realize he should not have been flying the night of 16 July 1999.
Whitney Houston has been dead for ten years. Yet twice a year, hundreds of millions of Americans worship her performance of The Star-Spangled Banner at Super Bowl XXV in January 1991.
I do not. I do not think it was a good rendition. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Whitney Houston was an overrated crack whore who stayed with fellow crack whore and abusive asshole Bobby Brown. She had ONE good song, her first big hit, “How Will I Know”. Every other Houston song makes my ears bleed, especially “I Will Always Love You”.
Let me repeat: I DON’T CARE FOR EVERY WHITNEY HOUSTON SONG EXCEPT ONE. I HATE HER RENDITION OF THE NATIONAL ANTHEM AT SUPER BOWL XXV.
The best rendition of the national anthem at the Super Bowl was Herb Alpert’s prior to Super Bowl XXII in 1988. Why? It was only played on the trumpet and not sung. Tommy Loy did a great trumpet rendition of the anthem at Super Bowl V in 1971. It’s on YouTube if you want to see.
The best rendition with words? Neil Diamond, Super Bowl XXI. Short and sweet. Sixty-one seconds. I’m a little biased because I love Neil, and I am so happy I got to see it live as a 10-year old.
I will never watch Super Bowl XXV. I don’t want to see that national anthem performance again as long as I live. Also, I am tired of experts proclaiming it the greatest Super Bowl ever. It was overrated. The Bills turned out to be raging frauds. The Giants were the better team, and the better team won. The Bills played a shit schedule, thanks to getting two games apiece vs. the Patriots, Jets and Colts. The Giants had two games against the Redskins and Eagles, plus two vs. the 49ers. Buffalo lost. They should have lost.
There is a little good news. The three crybabies of LIV golf–Talor Gooch, Hudson Swafford and some other jerkwad–were denied in their quest to play in the PGA Tour’s FedEx Cup playoffs, which start Thursday.
Gooch, Swafford and the third jerkwad took the Saudi money. They can’t double dip. Why don’t you tour Graceland while you’re in Memphis boys?
That’s it. I feel my blood pressure rising. I can’t take it anymore. The sooner I stop thinking about Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis and Whitney Houston, the better.
Summer has arrived in Kansas. The broiler was turned up today in Russell, with a high of 36 Celsius (96 Fahrenheit), which is 9 C (13 F) hotter than it should be in the first week of June.
The hotter weather prompted me to wait until after sunset to make a quick drive to the UPS and USPS drop boxes in town. I almost went too late. It started raining in Hays 30 minutes ago, and the lightning was striking quite frequently to the west. Oops, the rain just started at 1224 North Brooks. As Maxwell Smart used to say, missed it by that much.
I have had no desire to leave 1224 North Brooks since getting home from my excursion Tuesday. It was hot enough Tuesday.
It was a good decision to not stay overnight in Hutch, because it was an easy drive there in the morning. I got there way too early, so I killed an hour plus at the large Dillon’s not too far from the clinic. Most people were not wearing masks.
The visit with my new health provider in Hutchinson–I have not ditched Dr. Custer–went well. Made a quick trip to Wichita to pick up a new seat cushion from Bed Bath and Beyond, get my car washed and make an Amazon pickup at a QuikTrip. I avoided the protest areas.
IF you want an opinion on what’s going on right now, don’t ask. Not providing it.
I realized Tuesday morning I normally would be writing summaries of how local schools performed at the high school state track and field championships the previous weekend. This year’s meet, originally scheduled for last Friday and Saturday, was cancelled in March when schools were shut down for the remainder of the year.
I HATED covering that event. Check that. I DESPISED covering that event with every fiber of my being.
It was two of the worst days of every year. If the weather was as hot as it was today, that made it a million times worse.
Fans rave about how much they love that meet, but they don’t have to dash between eight events going on at once, trying to photograph 15-20 athletes. Heaven forbid if you don’t get a picture of an athlete, because the family of that athlete will not let you live it down.
When I was taken off of event coverage in August 2015, I wanted to quit. Now I realize it was a blessing. A HUGE blessing. There are some events I miss covering. The two days of hell at Wichita State are two days I’m glad I’m sitting on my fat ass in Russell or somewhere else (the last three years, that somewhere else was–surprise, surprise–Kansas City).
June 3 and 4 are Desiree Days, since those dates are mentioned in Neil Diamond’s 1977 hit “Desiree”. It woke me up at 05:00 Tuesday. And I heard it again driving back to Russell.
“Desiree” is on the Neil Diamond playlist on my iPod. “Sweet Caroline” is not and never will be.
Saturday is Convoy Day in honor of the 1975 classic “Convoy” by C.W. McCall, which opens “It was dark of moon on the sixth of June in a Kenworth pulling logs…”
That’s all I have for now.
Yesterday at Buffalo Wild Wings Shoal Creek was tremendous. Robb joined me for a couple of hours, and I got to see two of my favorite bartenders in the world, Tina and Nikki, although I was a bit disappointed Sherman, Nikki’s husband, wasn’t there. Sherman told me before the season he was betting big on LSU to win the national championship. Unless Clemson can stop Joe Burrow, Sherman is going to rake in some big time dough the morning of January 14.
The only disappointment was a group of regulars who kept playing horriawful music. (“Horriawful” is a concoction of Shaq, who told the late, great Craig Sager his wild sport jackets were “horriawful”.)
Two of the songs were by Michael Bolton, “When a Man Loves a Woman” and “You Don’t Know What It’s Like”.
Both of those songs are blatant ripoffs, blatant ripoffs which are nowhere near as good as the originals.
“When a Man Loves a Woman” was made famous in 1966 by Percy Sledge, one of the most timeless love songs of the rock era, which dates to 1954.
“You Don’t Know What It’s Like” was a great ballad by the Bee Gees before they went disco and became the biggest recording artists of the late 1970s.
Bolton recorded two other awful ripoffs, “How Am I Supposed To Live Without You” (Laura Branigan) and “Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay” (Otis Redding).
One of the songs Bolton didn’t rip off, “Love is a Wonderful Thing”, makes my ears bleed. Awful.
The only Bolton songs I can tolerate are “Soul Provider” and “Time, Love and Tenderness”. That’s it.
This group also angered me by playing Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do (I Do it For You)” and Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”.
Of all the Bryan Adams songs to play in a sports bar, you pick THAT one? Let’s see…”Run to You”, “This Time”, “Can’t Stop This Thing We Started”, “Summer of ’69” and “I Need Somebody” are all much better choices. And THAT isn’t even Adams’ best ballad. Give me “Heaven” any day over THAT one.
As for Whitney Houston…WOW. I never have been able to tolerate the song from the movie The Bodyguard. Never. My favorite Houston song is “How Will I Know”, and it isn’t close.
“How Will I Know” holds a special place in my heart, because some of my schoolmates from Arabi Park loved it. It played on the radio on a seventh grade field trip to the Stennis Space Center in Hancock County, Misissippi, and several girls were singing along. A very fond memory.
My adversaries also played a Neil Diamond song. Good. It was “Sweet Caroline”. Bad. VERY bad.
I have blogged about this before, but I will never, EVER play “Sweet Caroline”. I’m angry the jukebox has taken Diamond’s “Desiree” off the list of his songs. I struck back at those people by queuing up “Forever In Blue Jeans” and “Cracklin’ Rosie”.
“Forever In Blue Jeans” and “Cracklin’ Rosie” are the two Diamond songs I have played the most. I played “Desiree” a lot before it was erased. “Song Sung Blue”, “Shiloh”, “Soolaimon”, “Crunchy Granola Suite” and “America” are also heard sometimes when I’m in the building. I played “Heartlight” a couple of times, but I can’t find it anymore.
It could have been much worse. It could have been Rihanna’s “Work”, which was played endlessly by numerous employees at Buffalo Wild Wings Zona Rosa for what seemed like forever, or numerous other hip-hop songs which made my ears bleed and my blood pressure rise.
I was ready to queue the 17-minute version of Iron Butterfly’s “In-A-Gadda-Vida”, but I didn’t. Pink Floyd’s live version of “Money”, which goes 9:51, is also a choice. I’ve pissed off more than a few by playing Chuck Mangione’s “Feels So Good”, which lasts a little over nine minutes. That’s one of my four favorite instrumentals to play, along with Booker T. & The MGs “Green Onions”, Giorgio Moroder’s “Chase” (from Midnight Express), and Herb Alpert’s ‘Rise”.
The TouchTunes app lists my favorite plays. Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger”, Wham’s “Everything She Wants” and Journey’s “Separate Ways” are the first three songs. Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” and “Billie Jean” are the next two, because I always play them when I see Tori Weber Smith at B-Dubs.
Whenever you play “Everything She Wants”, make sure it is the extended version with the bridge. The version without the bridge is pedestrian at best.
Some of the others: “Spirits in the Material World” (The Police), “Allentown” (Billy Joel), “Somebody’s Baby” (Jackson Browne–thank you Jennifer Jason Leigh), “Hot in the City” and “Eyes Without a Face” (Billy Idol), “Self Control” (RIP, Laura Branigan), “Call Me Maybe” (Carly Rae Jepsen–largely played during 2013 and ’14 to placate younger guests at BWW), “Human Touch” (Rick Springfield), “Take a Chance On Me” and “Voulez-Vous” (ABBA, whose songs I have to play whenever I’m at BWW), “Big Log” and “Tall Cool One” (Robert Plant), “Over the Hills and Far Away” and “All My Love” (Led Zeppelin; the Plant and Led Zeppelin songs are because Megan, a longtime BWW Zona employee, loves them).
My dear friend Liz, whose 26th birthday is today, wanted me to play “Get Lucky” by Daft Punk and Pharrell when I saw her at Buffalo Wild Wings. I obliged her most of the time, but I can’t now, since it’s been de-listed by TouchTunes.
Liz’s other favorite song is “Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” by Pink Floyd, which was one I played religiously in the early 2000s at Ivar’s in Baton Rouge. That song was playing when Liz introduced herself to me. She loved the music I was playing. Another of her favorites was “Every 1’s a Winner” by Hot Chocolate. She noticed another guest was dancing to it late one Friday night. She was laughing uncontrollably when she told me.
No Debbie Gibson on the jukebox, except “Lost in Your Eyes”. Beautiful song, a fond reminder of Arabi Park, but not appropriate for a sports bar.
In case you don’t know, there is an app where you can play TouchTunes jukeboxes. It’s a heck of a lot easier–use a credit card to buy credits, and you don’t lose credits if you don’t lose them all like if you used cash.
Today I’m at Minsky’s, where there isn’t a jukebox. Not that the music is bad. Before today, I haven’t been to Minsky’s in a very long time–almost a year–and Baylie and Lindsay let me know. Larry now comes here because all Buffalo Wild Wings in Kansas and in Kansas City and St. Joseph don’t have Buzztime anymore. The BWW in the St. Louis area and Columbia do since they have a separate agreement with Buzztime.
This leaves Minsky’s near Zona Rosa, Gators VIII bar off Interstate 29 about two miles south of Barry Road, and four locations of 54th Street Bar and Grill (Liberty, Lee’s Summit, Independence and Blue Springs) as the only Buzztime locations in western Missouri. Wallaby’s in Lenexa and Johnny’s Tavern in Prairie Village have it in Kansas. Thankfully, I still have Golden Q and Old Chicago in Hays.
Mississippi State fired football coach Joe Moorhead today, four days after the Bulldogs from Starkville were embarrassed by Louisville in the Music City Bowl. There is probably a great deal of rejoicing in Starkville, Columbus, West Point and several other locales in the Magnolia State.
Moorhead was a horrible hire. He was Penn State’s offensive coordinator, where his offenses set records in State College. However, he had zero ties to the southern United States, which made the difficult task of recruiting elite players to Starkville much more difficult.
When Nick Saban was hired at LSU in December 1999, he made sure he had assistants who had ties to the south. Jimbo Fisher, who was on Terry Bowden’s staff at Auburn from 1993-98, filled that bill perfectly. Saban did the same thing when he went to Alabama, even after he won the 2003 national championship at LSU and gained more national prominence with his two seasons coaching the Dolphins.
Moorhead was too stubborn to follow Saban’s blueprint, and many Bulldog fans wanted him gone. Beating Ole Miss in the Egg Bowl after a Rebel player’s peeing dog act forced a missed extra point bought Moorhead time.
Not only was State a dud on the field under Moorhead, the Bulldogs had 10 players suspended by the NCAA for academic fraud, and a quarterback was knocked out of the Music City Bowl by getting into a fight with a teammate during practice.
MSU president Mark Keenum and athletic director John Cohen, a former baseball player and coach for the Bulldogs, came to their senses Epton. At least women’s basketball and baseball are still elite.
With Lane Kiffin in charge of the rival in Oxford, State has to get this hire right. I am certain Keenum and Cohen will be calling LSU athletic director Scott Woodward for permission to interview the Joe Brady, the 31-year old assistant who molded Joe Burrow into the 2019 Heisman Trophy recipient. Hopefully, Woodward and Ed Orgeron will tell Keenum and Cohen, “Sorry, not happening”.
If State wants an SEC assistant that badly, it ought to look east on US 82. Butch Jones, the former Tennessee coach, is not in an on-field position with Alabama. He flamed out in 2017 when the Volunteers went 0-8 in SEC games, but he was a big winner at Central Michigan and Cincinnati, and was above .500 in Knoxville.
I’m guessing Keenum and Cohen will not be placing a call to Lawrence. If they do, would Leslie Edwin Miles listen?
Peggy, I’m sorry this is so boring and long. However, I’m on one of those streams where I’m sitting around playing trivia and I just get things in my head.
Gulfport, Mississippi and Bethel, New York are 1,283 miles (2,065 kilometers) apart.
It would seem as these two locales would have absolutely nothing in common.
Yet they are forever linked by 17 August 1969.
Those who were in Bethel that day remember it fondly and wish they could go back.
Those in Gulfport that day would probably like to forget.
Thirty days after Ted Kennedy drove Mary Jo Koepechne to her death off Martha’s Vineyard, 28 days after Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin set foot on the moon, nine days after Sharon Tate and four others were brutally butchered by Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenewinkel, Leslie Van Houten and Tex Watson on orders of Charles Manson, there came an August Sunday which made not one, but two, indelible impressions on the United States of America.
Woodstock, held on Max Yasgur’s Dairy Farm, a little more than 100 miles (160 km) from New York’s LaGuardia Airport, was filled with three and a half days of “peace, love and music”. The names of those who performed that weekend are legendary: Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Who. The list of those who didn’t perform may have been just as impressive: Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones and The Beatles were among those who said no.
There were hopes for a 50th anniversary Woodstock. Many of the performers at the original festival who are still alive were invited. However, it never got off the ground and was cancelled in June. It would have been held at the Watkins Glen automobile race course, about 155 miles (250 km) west-northwest of Bethel.
Two years after Woodstock, organizers attempted a similar festival in Louisiana. They found some land on a levee along the Atchafayla River in Pointe Coupee Parish, 60 miles (97 km) northwest of Baton Rouge and 80 miles (128 km) southeast of Alexandria.
The Festival of Life was nothing short of a disaster. Needless to say, nothing like that has been attempted again in Louisiana.
While 400,000 were having the time of their lives in New York, residents of the Gulf Coast from New Orleans to Panama City were dealing with something which was certainly not peaceful.
Hurricane Camille crossed the western tip of Cuba hours before Richie Havens opened Woodstock. Once it emerged into the hot waters (30 degrees Celsius/86 F) of the Gulf of Mexico, it exploded, surpassing the intensity of Betsy, which had winds of 145 miles per hour (223 km/h) when it crossed the Louisiana coast at Grand Isle the evening of 9 Sepember 1965 and caused over $1 billion of damage and 76 deaths in what would become my native state.
Camille’s winds reached 170 miles per hour (265 km/h) as it made it way steadily towards the Florida panhandle the afternoon of 16 August. From Pensacola to Panama City, thousands of residents headed north into Georgia and Alabama.
The next morning, Camille was still on her inexorable march towards land.
The target, however, had shifted dramatically westward.
The storm had shifted to a north-northwest track, a path which would lead it straight towards New Orleans. It appeared the storm would follow a path eerily similar to Betsy’s, making landfall approximately 25 miles (40 km) east of Grand Isle.
If that occurred, New Orleans would have been utterly destroyed. My parents would have perished.
Eventually, the storm took a due north heading, crossing the mouth of the Mississippi River. It wiped much of southern Plaquemines Parish (county) off the map. Fortunately, evacuation orders were followed and nobody died in Louisiana.
Mississippi was not as fortunate.
The storm crossed the coast on the border between Hancock and Harrison counties. Pass Christian was ground zero. The small town between Bay St. Louis and Gulfport was blown away. Nothing remained standing.
Had the storm come in a few miles/kilometers further east, Gulfport would have been ground zero, and Biloxi would have been devastated more than it already was.
The wind speed at landfall will never be known. The wind measuring instruments in Gulfport and Biloxi were demolished. J
The storm killed 160 in Mississippi, but Camille wasn’t done.
Her remnants dumped buckets of rain on northern Mississippi, Tennessee and Kentucky before once again exploding in the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia.
This time, nobody had any notion of what was coming. Over 100 people perished in the Old Dominion, and floodwaters came dangerously close to leaving Richmond completely swamped. Richmond and Roanoke, two of the commonwealth’s largest cities, were spared the worst, but it was of little consolation.
Twenty-five years ago this morning, I almost died because of my own stupidity.
It was that Sunday I moved into my dormitory at LSU in advance of my first semester of college.
I almost didn’t make. I probably shouldn’t have.
The night before, I slept maybe three hours. I left my house in New Orleans at 0600. My father followed me to help me move my belongings into my sardine of a room at Power Hall, which thankfully has been demolished and replaced with modern apartments.
This was the first time I drove from New Orleans to Baton Rouge alone. I knew the route, but every time, my dad was with me.
The first 50 miles (80 km) was fine.
Suddenly, I found myself drifting off the road to my right.
I fell asleep shortly after the St. James/Ascension parish line. I panicked and cut the wheel of my 1989 Chevrolet Cavalier sharply to the left. That took me across both lanes of traffic and into the median. By time I was done, I was facing westbound in the eastbound lanes of traffic.
If it were any other time except Sunday morning, I would have been dead or paralyzed.
I was beyond lucky that no traffic was coming either way. I crossed the median and continued my journey.
When I got to the McDonald’s on Louisiana Highway 30 in Gonzales to meet my dad for breakfast, I told him. He agreed I was very, very lucky.
Power Hall featured seven two-story units, rather than one high-rise. I am grateful I lived on the first floor. Climbing the stairs carrying things would have been hellish.
There was a communal bathroom and shower just down the hall. I made sure I took my shower early in the morning so I didn’t have others in there. I don’t recall anyone else ever using a shower at the same time I did.
I had a private room at Power Hall, so it was a little better. I would not want anyone to have to deal with me as a roommate, nor do I care to have someone else in my room. I like my privacy.
When I returned to LSU in January 1997, the department of campus housing did not give me a private dorm room at Kirby-Smith Hall, a high rise on the northwest edge of campus. After sleeping in the room for two nights, I hastily moved off-campus. Lucky for me, the person who was assigned to the room had not checked in, so I was alone. That worked out better, because it allowed me to stay in Baton Rogue year-round. I should have thought it out better when I first went to LSU.
The efficiency I lived in for the last two and a half years at LSU was a rat trap. I was desperate and I didn’t want to make my parents pay an outrageous sum, so I took what I could find. I lived to tell the tale.
There are so many things I wish I had done differently in college. Leaving LSU after my first year was a huge mistake. Not paying attention in class was another. I cry about it. A lot.
High school football is cranking up. I want to be back in Louisiana covering games on Friday night. Kansas high school football is severely lacking.
SIX, the hour-long Buzztime trivia game on Wednesday and Thursday evenings at 1930 CT, made me look really dumb.
Greek mythology, birthmarks, George Clooney, bowling…all stumped the hell out of me. I had my lowest score in that game, below 40,000, in at least five years.
I know everyone has a bad game, but my bad game found me missing question after question. I almost didn’t come out tonight to play, but since I had to drop off my busted keyboard at UPS in Hays so it can be shipped off to Indiana to complete my warranty claim, I decided to go to the Golden Q anyway.
Between finding out I had ruined my keyboard, the frustration with dictation, my poor trivia game and then staying up far too late watching The Brady Bunch, yesterday wasn’t that good. The only good thing was the session with Crista in the morning.
Today is the 75th anniversary of D-Day, the most important day in the history of the United States military, or at least in the last 150 years. I hope the rain which flooded Baton Rouge this morning didn’t do the same in New Orleans, where there have been commemorations all day.
The Greatest Generation will be completely gone by time the 80th anniversary rolls around. Every president from Truman to Trump has done a fine job honoring the men who prevented the evil of fascism from spreading its tentacles past Germany and Italy.
The Sixth of June was mentioned in the opening line of C.W. McCall’s 1975 hit “Convoy”. Truckers have taken advantage by declaring June 6 International Convoy Day. I don’t know if it started in ’75, but it has been going on for many years.
McCall’s song was a subtle dig at the numerous regulations hampering the trucking industry, including high tolls, the 55-mile per hour (89 kilometers per hour) speed limit which took effect at the beginning of 1974, and weight restrictions designed to keep truckers off of secondary roads, where the weight of their cargo could cause significant damage.
“Convoy” also included a series of conversations between truckers on Citizens Band (CB) radio, and it drove CB radio sales through the roof in the second half of ’75 and ’76. The song hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in early ’76, something unusual for country songs in that era.
“Sixth of June” rhymed with “Dark of Moon”, but I’m also betting McCall chose June 6 because it was D-Day. The fifth of June would have worked just as well, but wouldn’t have had the hook as the sixth.
The Brewers were outscored TWENTY FOUR to THREE in losing two games to the Marlins Tuesday and Wednesday, including a 16-0 destruction Tuesday, the worst home loss in the club’s history, which goes back to 1969, their year as the Seattle Pilots. I can accept losing by a combined 24-3 to the Dodgers, Phillies, Cubs or Yankees. But the Marlins, who are so crappy nobody wants to watch them play in Miami.
Milwaukee won 5-1 today to avert the sweep, and they are one game back of the Cubs in the loss column. Miami is 23-37, the worst in the National League, but still comfortably ahead of the American’s League’s dynamic duo, Baltimore and Kansas City, who each have yet to win 20.
I feel for Wichita. The good news is the city is getting a Triple-A baseball team next year, the first time since 2007 it will have an affiliated Minor League Baseball team. The bad news is it’s the Marlins Triple-A team, which currently plays in New Orleans. Having the Marlins as an affiliate has depressed attendance in New Orleans, and that’s a reason why my native city won’t have professional baseball in 2020 and for the foreseeable future.
The Marlins shouldn’t be in Miami. The city only supports professional sports if they win big. The Dolphins have struggled mightily to attract fans since Dan Marino retired following the 1999 season. The Heat sold out regularly when LeBron colluded with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh to form their big three, but empty seats were common before and after Wade. The Panthers? Don’t get me started about the NHL in the south. They are one of Gary Bettman’s charity cases.
Even worse, Jeffrey Loria conned the taxpayers of Miami-Dade into building him that eyesore where the Orange Bowl once stood. I’m not going to argue (a) the Dolphins’ stadium (currently Hard Rock Stadium) was a dreadful baseball venue and (b) a retractable roof (or permanent roof in the Rays’ case) is a must for baseball in subtropical climates. Why did it take the Rangers 48 seasons of playing outdoors to figure that out? And why did the Braves not figure it out when they built SunTrust Park?
How the Marlins won two World Series is beyond me. Actually, I know how.
The first, in 1997, was Wayne Huizenga printing money to buy a team, plus getting help from Eric (Rerun) Gregg’s ridiculously bloated strike zone in the NLCS vs. the Braves.
The second, in 2003, was because the Marlins hoarded so many prospects from trading all their big names, and the Cubs melting down after the Steve Bartman incident. A blind squirrel can find an acorn every blue moon. A watch is right twice a day. And the Marlins can win a title.
Remember, the Marlins have two World Series titles and zero division titles. They also have zero postseason appearances outside their World Series years.
Another thing that angers me to no end about the Marlins is the hero worship of Jose Fernandez, their stud pitcher who died in a boating accident with two others one week before the end of the 2016 season.
The Marlins continue to keep his locker preserved and won’t issue his number 16, even though it was determined Fernandez was drunk and high on cocaine when he operated the boat in a wreckless manner at night in rough seas. Fernandez KILLED two other people with his stupidity. Yet the tone-deaf Marlins continue to deify him.
The Royals have done the same with Yordano Ventura, who died in a January 2017 accident in the Dominican Republic. The DR sealed the results of his autopsy.
GEE, WHY DO YOU THINK?
Ventura was probably under the influence of something the day he died. Besides, he was a big reason why the 2015 Royals were a cocky group of jerks. Ventura started several bench clearing brawls by throwing high and inside.
The Blues and Bruins play the critical fifth game of the Stanley Cup Finals tonight in Boston. Puck drop in about 25 minutes. St. Louis needs this one more, because it can go back to Missouri and clinch Sunday. Boston still has a mulligan if it wins, because game seven would be in Massachusetts Wednesday.
The Warriors were crushed last night by the Raptors in Oakland despite 47 from Stephen Curry. Uh oh. With Klay Thompson and Kevin Durant struggling with injuries, Golden State may be fighting an uphill battle, similar to the way the Lakers did 30 years ago when they were trying to three-peat vs. the Pistons. That year, Magic Johnson and James Worthy were crippled by injuries, and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was 42 and nearing retirement. Detroit swept.
Golden State has to win tomorrow. Well, it could come back from a 3-1 deficit the way the Cavaliers did to them in 2016, but I wouldn’t bet on it. If the Raptors win, it will just show how ridiculous the Maple Leafs’ continuing Stanley Cup drought is.
I didn’t realize it until this morning, but Sunday marked the 30th anniversary of my last day at Arabi Park Middle School.
There were no classes that Friday; it was just to pick up our report cards and say goodbye until late August, or in my case, say goodbye, period.
I knew since mid-February I would not be attending eighth grade at Arabi Park. I received my acceptance letter to Brother Martin High, which has an eighth grade, February 11, four days after Mardi Gras and three before Valentine’s Day. I was surprised I got in, because I thought attending a public school would work heavily against me. Apparently, someone saw something in me to let me in.
I did have some help.
The admissions director at Brother Martin at the time, Greg Rando, had a sister-in-law, Anne, who was the assistant principal at Arabi Park. Greg, who graduated from Brother Martin in 1977, later became principal and is now president at his alma mater. Anne really helped me navigate the choppy waters at Arabi Park, especially the last three months after I was accepted to Brother Martin.
The famous trip to the Stennis Space Center on the Mississippi Gulf Coast came five days after I received my acceptance letter. On that trip, I wore not a shirt for my future high school, but the college I hoped to attend…Kansas State. It had Willie Wildcat, the cartoon mascot who bore a striking resemblance to Tom from Tom and Jerry, on the front.
On my last day at Arabi Park, I wore a Brother Martin t-shirt. Mrs. Rando was proud to show me off wearing it, but a lot of my classmates were not thrilled. Stacie Dauterive (Seube) was relieved I would be attending school in Gentilly, but I can’t blame her. I gave her and the other female members of my classes a lot of grief. I feel horrible I cannot apologize to Allison Richardson (White), who passed away from cancer in 2008. If I could have taken her place, I would have.
I admit I had a crush on Stacie at Arabi Park. She is a beautiful lady, but she is intelligent, kind and funny, and I love her much more for that. Her sister, Andree, is the same way. They definitely got it from their parents. Stacie could have been great at anything she wanted to, but she chose to give back by becoming a teacher like her mom.
Stacie has an autistic son, something which is heartbreaking for me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But he will thrive because he has great parents and a great family support system.
Rosemarie Renz (Huguet) went to school with me in kindergarten through fourth grade and could handle my antics, but the others couldn’t, but I really have no ill will towards them. I came into their universe in the second quarter of their sixth grade year, and I was, well, different. Nobody knew what Asperger’s Syndrome was in the United States, and they wouldn’t for five more years.
God, I miss Rosie. She is my oldest friend. I was sad when I didn’t get to see her in Baton Rouge last year. I hope my next visit there will reunite us. Rosie, like Stacie, is a teacher. The profession is that much better because of people like Rosie and Stacie.
I DID see Jason Malasovich, my second oldest friend, in Kansas City last year. I had the pleasure of meeting his lovely wife, Melissa, and their kids, Olivia and Carson. I’ve known Jason since we played basketball together in 1986-87.
And I’ll never forget Toni LaRocca in a Hooters uniform in 2000. She is such a wonderful soul whom I would give anything to see again, just like Rosie and Stacie.
I’ll never forget the others, either: Shawn O’Neil, Lara Doyle (Meyers), Kimberly Carmouche (Lee), Christi Rehage (Alvarez), Tammy Gilbert (the brains of the APM Class of ’90), Holly Atwood (Syrdal), Erin Billingsley (Lee), Nicole Meyer (who was taller than all the boys and damn good at the flute), Juli Wahl, Tina Calabresi, Vanessa Condra, Janis Maillet, Jack Bastoe, Jared Couture, Brandon Miller….plus a few who graduated before me, especially Jennifer Newell and Chastity Manzella.
They probably don’t remember me, but hey, memories fade.
I got teased quite a bit because I really liked Phyllis Marsolan, our sixth grade English teacher. I liked her, but most of her other students were more lukewarm. She was my first teacher crush, followed by Janine Koenig, my eighth grade science teacher, at Brother Martin. But I knew better than to act. It would have been disastrous for all involved.
Yesterday was what I like to call Desiree Day.
That’s because in the opening line of Neil Diamond’s 1977 hit “Desiree”, it mentions the third of June as the night he supposedly became a man (read: lost his virginity) to a woman twice his age named Desiree.
Desiree is one of my favorite Diamond songs, and I have a lot of them. Here’s the Foots top 15:
15. I’m Alive
14. I’m a Believer (no, that is not a typo; Diamond came out with a version of the Monkees smash in 1967)
13. You Don’t Bring Me Flowers
12. Coming to America
11. Crunchy Granola Suite
8. Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show
7. Kentucky Woman
6. Cherry Cherry
5. Song Sung Blue
3. Forever in Blue Jeans
2. Play Me
1. Cracklin’ Rosie
Notice what Diamond song is not up there. If I’ve offended any Red Sox fans, then too freaking bad.
Thursday is another anniversary mentioned in a song. Can you guess?
The Blues and Bruins have alternated wins in the Stanley Cup Finals, with Boston winning the odds and St. Louis the evens. St. Louis has to break that pattern, preferably Thursday in game five at Boston. If the Blues win, they can clinch the Cup Sunday in St. Louis.
St. Louis had to watch the Canadiens skate the Cup in 1968 and ’69 after the Blues were swept in the final. In 1970, the Blues somehow had home-ice advantage, but it didn’t work a bit, with the Bruins sweeping, winning the finale in the Boston Garden on that goal by Bobby Orr.
The Stanley Cup has been skated four times in Boston since then, all by visitors: the Canadiens in ’77 and ’78, the Oilers in ’90 and the Blackhawks in 2013. Boston won the Cup in ’72 in Madison Square Garden vs. the Rangers, and in 2011 the Bruins won it in Vancouver, taking Game 7 4-0 after the home team won the first six games.
St. Louis has payback for more than 1970 on its minds. The city would like to get Boston back for the 2014 and ’13 World Series, Super Bowl XXXVI in February 2002, and the 1961 NBA Finals, the last time the Hawks franchise has made the finals.
In the NBA, the Warriors went on an 18-0 run to start the third quarter Sunday and won by five in Toronto, squaring that series 1-1. Had Golden State lost, it would have been bleak for the Warriors, even going back to Oakland. Hopefully the Warriors can hold serve at home and close it out, because the last thing I want is to see Drake leading a parade in Toronto.
Feeding myself and my trivia addiction at Old Chicago in Salina. Got my hair cut by Amber. I have something groovy waiting for me in Russell..gl.
Yes, I succumbed to my craving for IHOP’s Swedish crepes last night for dinner. I nearly regretted it.
I left Buffalo Wild Wings at 1730 and immediately got my breakfast for dinner. But I admit I got a little greedy…I added an order of the Nutella crepes and hash browns to my Thursday night/Friday morning order.
I ate all the Nutella crepes, the hash browns, and I started on the Swedish. I also finished half a can of Lay’s Stax plus a small bag of popcorn.
I watched two movies and three episodes of Law & Order: SVU before going to bed. I was starting to fade during the episode which aired on NBC, so I’ll probably watch it again before I leave Kansas City.
At 0400, my gluttony caught up with me. Indigestion. Bad.
I managed to get a little more sleep before I woke up for good at 0610. Some Extra Strength Alka Seltzer helped, and I ate my crepes for breakfast.
God I might wear out the iHOP in Hays when I go back west. Or both in Salina when I’m traveling there.
I was able to order wings from Buffalo Wild Wings today. However, the fish sandwich it is offering during Lent was outstanding. Larry had it when I met him yesterday to play trivia and he liked it, so I said what the heck. Excellent. I’m not a huge fan of beer-battered fish, but B-Dubs doesn’t bury the fish in batter like Long John Silver’s.
FYI, LJS gave me the terrible heartburn in Hutchinson during Norton’s game with Royal Valley last Friday. Never again. However, I don’t foresee myself in Hays in a situation where I would need to eat on a Lenten Friday again this year. Either I’ll be in Russell or somewhere which has more options.
Why am I eating LJS? Come on, I lived in Louisiana for almost 29 years. It’s the same as a chef at Morton’s or Ruth’s Chris eating truck stop steak.
Huddersfield Town is almost out of the Premier League. Fulham will be joining them. The third relegation spot is up for grabs, with Cardiff City, Burnley, Southampton, Crystal Palace, Newcastle, Brighton and Hove Albion, and West Ham not entirely safe.
Liverpool and Manchester City have separated themselves in the title chase. The next four–Tottenham, Manchester United, Arsenal and Chelsea–are battling for spots in the UEFA Champions and Europa Leagues.
Wolverhampton is having a great first season back in the Premier League after being in the Championship for six seasons. Watford is in good form and could finish in the top half. Bournemouth is somehow afloat despite playing in that bandbox stadium. Everton is again a disappointment. No reason it cannot challenge the “Big Six”.
As for Leicester, another mid-table finish is coming down the pike in the East Midlands. It’s been a very hard year at the KP; Leicester’s owner perished in a helicopter crash on the stadium grounds following a match earlier this season, and recently, manager Claude Puel was sacked.
Yes, the expectations for the Foxes have been through the roof since the miracle championship of 2015-16. On the other hand, Leicester doesn’t have the resources nor the deep top-flight tradition of the Big Six. Considering the Foxes were all but relegated at Christmas 2014, to not be in the relegation scrap after Christmas the last two seasons is pretty good.
There will be no new faces in the Premier League for 2019-20. The current top two, Derby County and Sheffield United, have been there before, as are closest pursuers Leeds United, West Bromwich Albion, Middlesbrough and Aston Villa.
Major League Soccer started its season earlier this month. Sporting Kansas City or any other team could lose every game and end with zero points–that’s nearly impossible–but would stay in the top flight. That’s why I don’t watch MLS, among other reasons.
I wonder if the Vatican knows St. Bonaventure and Saint Louis will play fo rite Atlantic 10 Conference tournament championship tomorrow, with the winner going to the NCAA tournament. Two fine Catholic institutions battling it out, although I am partial to the fellows from Olean, New York. I am still peeved Saint Louis once employed the late Rick Majerus, who, despite being Roman Catholic, opposed the church’s teachings on many issues, including abortion. I’ll leave it at that. Majerus was a heck of a coach, as evidenced by his success at Ball State and Utah, but his personal life was odd to say the least.
St. Bonaventure made the Final Four in 1970, but lost the best player to ever wear the brown and white of the Bonnies (formerly Brown Indians), Bob Lanier, during the East regional. The Bonnies were mortally wounded when they got to College Park for the Final Four, and were no match for Jacksonville and Artis Gilmore. Gilmore’s Dolphins then lost to UCLA, which was in the two-year interregnum between Lew Alcindor and Bill Walton. The Bruins still won titles both years, and would extend their streak to seven before losing to David Thompson, 7-4 Tom Burleson and North Carolina State in the 1974 semis.
There is a debate as to the exact location of St. Bonaventure. I’ve always thought the school was in Olean, but the postal address is St. Bonaventure, New York, and others refer to the borough of Allegeny in Cattaraugus County, New York, southeast of Buffalo. I’ll stick to Olean, since it’s easier to find on a map than the other locales.
Kentucky blew it. Lost 82-78 to Tennessee, so the Volunteers play Auburn tomorrow in the SEC tournament final. I cannot stand Auburn these days because of a jerk fan from Baton Rouge I knew when I lived there. I am not an Alabama fan in any way, but knowing he’s miserable when the Crimson Tide beat Auburn makes me feel a little better.
Speaking of Alabama, LSU is not a rival of the Crimson Tide. NOT. A. RIVAL. LSU’s rival is now Texas A&M, and that’s that.
I just played Andy Gibb’s “Everlasting Love” on the jukebox at Buffalo Wild Wings. God, why did you need drugs to make you happy, Andy? If you were still alive today, you and Barry could be touring and raking in $$$$$$ as the new Bee Gees. Instead, poor Barry is all alone. Andy died 31 years ago this month. Maurice and Robin left the realm of the mortal earlier this millennium.
Okay what have I not discussed? Trump’s emergency declaration? Well, that will have to wait–if I comment on it at all.
Earlier this week, legendary singer and songwriter Neil Diamond announced he has Parkinson’s Disease, immediately retiring from touring. It’s sad he has to end touring like this, because Diamond certainly earned the right to end touring on his own terms.
I have never been to a concert, and it isn’t on my bucket list. However, if there was a list of artists I would want to go see in person, Diamond would have ranked pretty high, if not #1. Elton John is coming to Kansas City in February 2019 as part of his final tour, and I would pay to see him, as well. I would pay to see The Rolling Stones and the Eagles, and of course, The Beatles when they were together, but of course that wasn’t possible because they broke up six years before I was born.
Neil Diamond’s most famous song, according to some, is “Sweet Caroline”, which is an ode to Caroline Kennedy, the first live-born child of John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy Bouvier. I say first live-born, because sadly, a daughter was stillborn in 1956, one year before Caroline’s birth. After John F. Kennedy Jr was born in November 1960, shortly after his dad was elected President of the United States, another boy, Patrick, died only 48 hours after birth, a little more than three months before JFK was assassinated in Dallas.
Sweet Caroline has become an anthem for the Boston Red Sox, played during the eighth inning of every game at Fenway Park. It’s a fitting anthem, seeing the Kennedy clan is from Massachusetts–Robert F. Kennedy’s three and a half years as a U.S. Senator from New York notwithstanding–but it has been overdone. Too many teams are playing it, and I sometimes want to change the radio station when I hear it. It’s not that “Sweet Caroline” is a bad song, it’s just it’s not my favorite Neil Diamond song. Not be a long shot.
I have several Neil Diamond songs on my Apple devices, but “Sweet Caroline” is not one of them, nor will it ever be. I can be persuaded to play Neil Diamond on the jukebox, but I am not particularly keen on playing “Sweet Caroline”.
“Sweet Caroline” is part of his 12 Greatest Hits album which came out in 1974, but I have at least five songs higher on the list23.
Cracklin Rosie” is my favorite Diamond song. Went to #1 in October 1970. It is not about a woman named Rosie, but it’s about a wine. The others from that album are “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show”, “Play Me”, “Song Sung Blue” and “Shiloh”.
My favorite earlier Diamond hits are “Kentucky Woman”, “Cherry, Cherry” and “I’m A Believer”. Yes, it’s the same song which shot The Monkees to fame in 1966, but I like Diamond’s version better. Of his later work, my favorites are “Desiree”, “Forever In Blue Jeans”, “America” and “Heartlight”, which gained fame for being on the soundtrack to E.T.
Parkinson’s is a cruel fate, and Diamond is one of the three most famous people it has afflicted, joining Michael J. Fox and Pope John Paul II. The only good news here is having someone notable should spur fundraising for Parkinson’s research, the way it has with Fox.
Update 1955 2018/1/26: Norton’s band is playing “Sweet Caroline” as the boys basketball team warms up before its game vs. Colby.
Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” is playing at Buffalo Wild Wings over the speakers.
It is not my favorite Journey song. Far, far, far from it. In fact, I’ll list my favorite Journey songs in order:
- Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)
- Only the Young
- Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’
- I’ll Be Alright Without You
- Wheel in the Sky
- Open Arms
“Don’t Stop Believing” and “Who’s Crying Now”? I’ll pass.
They can’t all be winners.