Perhaps its the fever I am trying to work through....or the ache in my joints from the fever that has set my mind to wandering.....as I am apt to do...I often look back on moments in my life that I find funny...or embarrassing...or just plain old stupid...but today I am remembering a spring day in 1980.
I was in a band with my best friend and writing partner, Victor. (Victors last name is Zupanc and our first band when we were 15 consisted of Victor, his brother and 2 cousins....all Zupancs...it was called Z...or in Canada, Zed....I was the lone Scotsman...)
The band in 1980 was a local Victoria phenom call "The Tumours".....the motto was..."They'll grow on you..." ......these were far less politically correct times.....but I digress......
Spring 1980...The Tumours needed a place to practice...now any parent who has had their kids rock band play in their basement will tell you how awful it is......how many times can Louie, Louie or Taking Care of Business be slaughtered all the while inviting the ire of every neighbour within 1 block............so it was that The Tumours found themselves homeless........(again) ....however in a flash of brilliance Victor and I had an "aha" moment....Mrs. Chesson...! Mrs. Chesson was the mother of our other friends Richard and Al......she was one of those rare breeds of older ladies.......an easy mark.....(.at the time she was about 60....or so it seemed) and being a proper lady of good breeding she was all Tea and rounded tones......
She also had a odd dark side in that she smoked pot with us.....it was a little freaky at first to have The Queen come in for a toke while we're listening to Black Sabbath ....anyways I digress....... again....
So on that warm spring night, Victor and I decided we should talk kind-hearted, old, Mrs. Chesson into letting us use her basement for the band to practice in.......
Usually I am the one giving the pitch....doing the talk up....making the deal....but this night for whatever reason I took a backseat to Victor in this department......
My job was to shut up........we had been kicked out of a number of basements for noise complaints...."well duh...it IS a rock band after all..... "
The tableau of me, Victor, Mrs. Chesson and her 2 sons (...good friends of mine at the time....) ....Al and Richard is still burned into my mind.......
Imagine a warm June evening.....7 ish.......front stairs to her house.....perhaps 8 or 9 steps.....On the top steps stood her 2 sons Al and Richard.......2 steps below them, on a step to herself, Mrs Chesson.......and 2 steps below her, Victor and myself........on this summers night she was wearing a short sleeved shirt, her thin bird-like hands resting on her bony little old lady-like hips........Victor to my left was giving her the pitch..." Mrs. C...we will be very quiet...we will shut the practice down by 8 o'clock every night....we will not make a mess and to top it all off we will give you 450 each month...."...All of this was a well know lie...a ruse to get into the practice space.......once in...its hard to get rid of a band.........much like raccoons in the attic they can be very testy and assume this is THEIR place.......anyways....I was listening...more or less to Victor give the pitch......I could see she was nodding in the affirmative....she was buying in...bonus...!.....
I am not sure if it was a residual pot hangover or just that I was mildly moronic that made me do what came next.........as I was 2 steps below the step that Mrs. Chesson stood on my head was pretty much eye level to her forearm......as it seemed Victor had the situation well in hand and no one was paying me any attention my mind felt free to wander.........I looked at her forearm......It had long strands of Black hair growing from it.......my inner dialogue spoke up....."hmmm...I said to myself....She has a cat....a Black cat at that....and it appears to me that she has a cat's fur ball on her arm....betcha she doesn't know its there....I know....I will help her out.....I will pull it off and let her discretely know I did so...saving her any embarrassment of having a cats fur ball dangling on her forearm..........with no warning....and no one watching me....I gingerly reached up....grabbed the forelock of Black hair and gave it it a good tug........"
"Ouch" she screamed.....it was fucking attached...! OMG.....what the fuck have I just done.....Her sons....looked at me in abject horror...."Why are you pulling my mothers arm hair" they asked......Victor looked at me in stunned silence......as if to say...."What the fuck are you doing..."........I could only stammer......."I thought it was a fur ball..."........not a great reply...but the only one that was available to me at the moment.........I looked down at my thumb and forefinger....3 lonely black strands of her arm hair still clutched between them........I felt myself turning beet red.......
Mrs. Chesson (who was a direct descendant of Stanley, the famed African bible thumper from the "Dr. Livingstone I presume...." moment in time...." was overly nice about the whole thing....she started to apologize.....(?) "I know dear....its alright...Its my fault I have arm hair....I should really pluck it out...."well this only made things worse....I now had to say....no its my fault...it is your hair after all........after a few awkward moments....and some shuffling of shoes on the stairs as we all tried to find the next sentence to carry us out of this abyss......I spoke up......."So...can we practice in your basement.....?" .....
The answer was "yes".......
I was in a band with my best friend and writing partner, Victor. (Victors last name is Zupanc and our first band when we were 15 consisted of Victor, his brother and 2 cousins....all Zupancs...it was called Z...or in Canada, Zed....I was the lone Scotsman...)
The band in 1980 was a local Victoria phenom call "The Tumours".....the motto was..."They'll grow on you..." ......these were far less politically correct times.....but I digress......
Spring 1980...The Tumours needed a place to practice...now any parent who has had their kids rock band play in their basement will tell you how awful it is......how many times can Louie, Louie or Taking Care of Business be slaughtered all the while inviting the ire of every neighbour within 1 block............so it was that The Tumours found themselves homeless........(again) ....however in a flash of brilliance Victor and I had an "aha" moment....Mrs. Chesson...! Mrs. Chesson was the mother of our other friends Richard and Al......she was one of those rare breeds of older ladies.......an easy mark.....(.at the time she was about 60....or so it seemed) and being a proper lady of good breeding she was all Tea and rounded tones......
She also had a odd dark side in that she smoked pot with us.....it was a little freaky at first to have The Queen come in for a toke while we're listening to Black Sabbath ....anyways I digress....... again....
So on that warm spring night, Victor and I decided we should talk kind-hearted, old, Mrs. Chesson into letting us use her basement for the band to practice in.......
Usually I am the one giving the pitch....doing the talk up....making the deal....but this night for whatever reason I took a backseat to Victor in this department......
My job was to shut up........we had been kicked out of a number of basements for noise complaints...."well duh...it IS a rock band after all..... "
The tableau of me, Victor, Mrs. Chesson and her 2 sons (...good friends of mine at the time....) ....Al and Richard is still burned into my mind.......
Imagine a warm June evening.....7 ish.......front stairs to her house.....perhaps 8 or 9 steps.....On the top steps stood her 2 sons Al and Richard.......2 steps below them, on a step to herself, Mrs Chesson.......and 2 steps below her, Victor and myself........on this summers night she was wearing a short sleeved shirt, her thin bird-like hands resting on her bony little old lady-like hips........Victor to my left was giving her the pitch..." Mrs. C...we will be very quiet...we will shut the practice down by 8 o'clock every night....we will not make a mess and to top it all off we will give you 450 each month...."...All of this was a well know lie...a ruse to get into the practice space.......once in...its hard to get rid of a band.........much like raccoons in the attic they can be very testy and assume this is THEIR place.......anyways....I was listening...more or less to Victor give the pitch......I could see she was nodding in the affirmative....she was buying in...bonus...!.....
I am not sure if it was a residual pot hangover or just that I was mildly moronic that made me do what came next.........as I was 2 steps below the step that Mrs. Chesson stood on my head was pretty much eye level to her forearm......as it seemed Victor had the situation well in hand and no one was paying me any attention my mind felt free to wander.........I looked at her forearm......It had long strands of Black hair growing from it.......my inner dialogue spoke up....."hmmm...I said to myself....She has a cat....a Black cat at that....and it appears to me that she has a cat's fur ball on her arm....betcha she doesn't know its there....I know....I will help her out.....I will pull it off and let her discretely know I did so...saving her any embarrassment of having a cats fur ball dangling on her forearm..........with no warning....and no one watching me....I gingerly reached up....grabbed the forelock of Black hair and gave it it a good tug........"
"Ouch" she screamed.....it was fucking attached...! OMG.....what the fuck have I just done.....Her sons....looked at me in abject horror...."Why are you pulling my mothers arm hair" they asked......Victor looked at me in stunned silence......as if to say...."What the fuck are you doing..."........I could only stammer......."I thought it was a fur ball..."........not a great reply...but the only one that was available to me at the moment.........I looked down at my thumb and forefinger....3 lonely black strands of her arm hair still clutched between them........I felt myself turning beet red.......
Mrs. Chesson (who was a direct descendant of Stanley, the famed African bible thumper from the "Dr. Livingstone I presume...." moment in time...." was overly nice about the whole thing....she started to apologize.....(?) "I know dear....its alright...Its my fault I have arm hair....I should really pluck it out...."well this only made things worse....I now had to say....no its my fault...it is your hair after all........after a few awkward moments....and some shuffling of shoes on the stairs as we all tried to find the next sentence to carry us out of this abyss......I spoke up......."So...can we practice in your basement.....?" .....
The answer was "yes".......
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