To the post entitled “Strange Days Indeed“
I have one additional mind-boggler to add.
I heard an ad on the radio today telling me that Tina Tuner is launching a new concert tour.
The woman is almost 69 years old, ferchrissakes, and she still looks better on her worst day than I do on my best.
But that’s not the mind boggler.
Her tour is sponsored by….and I’m not making this up…..Amway.
One of the really cool features of iTunes is Sharing. So the deal is, when there are other people on your same network, if they turn sharing on, you can listen to their iTunes library. Not copy, but listen.
Cool, no? Working in an office like I do, there is a whole long list of other people’s music I can check out. I’ve found some good stuff this way. For example, it’s how I got turned on to the Gypsy Kings.
I’ve also been on the sharing side. I say without shame I’m the proud owner of “Ultimate Daryl Hall & John Oates”, a two disc best of compilation. And I’ve discovered LOTS of people are really into Hall & Oates, because they stop me in the halls and comment on listening to my iTunes Library.
But here’s what gets my OCD up…
When I look at other’s iTunes collections, they are SO neat and quite tidy. Full albums. All band names and titles in their proper place. Neatly arranged and ordered for maximum findability.
My library on the other hand is a mish-mash. One song from an artist here. Six full albums from another artist (*coff*FleetwoodMac*coff*) over there. Chock a block full of “iTunes Artist of the Day” downloads from Starbucks.
And then there are the oddball Christmas downloads leftover from the Napster free-for-all days. No, the RCIAA didn’t come after me for payment on that copy of Billy Squier‘s “Christmas is a Time to Say I Love You”. I’m sure they snickered when my download log came across their desk.
Comparatively, my iTunes library looks like a twister came through and jumbled all the pieces.
Ah well, I hit “shuffle” and it all seems to work out.
The other fun thing about Sharing on iTunes is that you learn a LOT about people based on what music they have in their collection.
The most startling so far is an older gentleman I work with. A quiet gent, hails from Ireland and speaks with a soft brogue. Been married over forty years, kids long raised, he’s a quiet respectful guy.
His iTunes library contains, and I’m not making this up:
Pussycat Dolls
Jessica Simpson
Ashlee Simpson
Britney Spears
Rhianna
Just to name a few. TOTALLY unexpected. He claims he enjoys these artists for the music……
Then again, what does MY iTunes library say about me? Hmm……I think I’ll go uncheck “Sharing” now…
…have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?
Sorry Mr. Owens. I don’t judge you. Never did. But I’m here to pass a little judgment on your hometown.
On this last road trip through the Golden State, I had occasion to stop off in Bakersfield. As a matter of fact, we needed petrol, and Buck Owen’s Blvd. off of Highway 99 seemed as good an exit as any to take.
At the bottom of the freeway ramp, there stood Buck Owen’s Crystal Palace. And not much more. We weren’t of a mind to visit the palace, tho it was interesting to see. But the gas/food/lodging situation in that area was sketchy to say the least.
It was all just…weird.
I’m a big fan of Buck Owens and think he’s about the most talented musician I ever knew, along with a great self-deprecating sense of humor.
I can’t help but think his old hometown hasn’t quite done him the justice he deserves. The place to go to remember him is a weird neighborhood filled with strange businesses.
Who knows, I may be missing something…
Then again, it is California’s Central Valley. A David Lynch movie waiting to happen…
Have you ever known a place that, in your memories, takes on a dream quality?
It can be almost any place. I have lots of them.
But one that shows up in my dreams quite often is this really greasy spoon in Las Cruces. A college hangout. Oh did I have some fun times there, and the tasty green chile cheese burgers that still haunt me.
That place is called Dick’s Cafe.
It’s a place with plastic windows covered with a greasy film. It has torn vinyl seats and ugly formica tables. The desert sun pours in through those windows, lighting up the room and the grimy linoleum floor.
And there is a jukebox. Oh that jukebox. I used to ask cute cowboys for their pocket change and they would give it to me. My best friend and I would play our faves. And we smiled, and laughed, and told stories and picked on each other and occasionally picked up on each other. It is genuinely the stuff of my dreams. All the individual memories blended together into one beautiful and happy amalgam.
When visiting Las Cruces, my pulse still quickens driving past Dick’s. Back in the day, we would drive by real slow and survey the pickups parked out front. My best friend and I had a game, how many could we recognize. She was always better than me at that, but if we saw a good one, one belonging to a good friend or a particularly cute boy that needed to be flirted with, we’d turn in to the dirt parking lot and grab a coke and some fries. The days went by slow and easy then.
What’s great is that Dick’s has been around since 1959. My best friend’s parents, my surrogate Mom and Dad, have just as fond memories about Dick’s as we do. THAT is an institution, people!
Why am I waxing rhapsodic about Dick’s today?
Because I just read in the Las Cruces Sun News that they had a fire overnight. Article here.
If the physical place is gone, it can live on in my memories. But it would be a sad day for me to have to say goodbye to the actual place.
Just writing this, remembering the days, makes me smile. Fridays at Dick’s were especially fun.
An urgent email went out to my best friend who still lives in Las Cruces for some on the scene reporting…
