A DAY IN THE NIGHT

Here is the intro to "Me and My Guitar" I try to describe a night of what life is like behind my guitar.Read,Enjoy and comment!
“A Day in the life"
"A Hard Days Night"
Six o'clock in the morning on Friday, the alarm goes off and I wake up. I stumble across a dark room hoping not to stub my toes on sharp objects. It is Friday on a June summer day, not a cloud in the sky, and it's warm. I'm playing the Howling Dog my favorite club in all the world. The Dog is a local summer tradition. Open only from May to November, depending on the weather. It is your quintessential Alaskan rock 'n roll bar full of memorabilia - pieces of the pipeline, pictures, posters, lots of funky stuff and woman's bras that are traded for tee-shirts and nailed to the ceiling. Ya, lots of personality.

After a few cups of coffee and several cigarettes I motivate myself to walk out to the van and start loading up my gear. As a working musician,it's a nice rig. Marshall half stack, boss pedal board, nice cordless unit, and two custom built Warmoth guitars. I load my stuff up in the back of my van, and it's off to my social worker job where I deal with problems, clients and paperwork all day long. But throughout my day, the specter of the rock 'n roll animal my" Dark Knight" lurks in the shadows, the beast that waits to be released End of the day I head out to where the Dog sleeps. Fox. Nice drive, past the trans-Alaska pipeline and you look about you on the way out there and you realize that long ago this was all about gold mining. Old parts of the Dredges, and piles of tailing's everywhere. I pull into the Dog's parking lot and drive around back and start to unload my gear. I prefer to set up my gear early, because I hate getting to the club, setting up and playing. I like to set up early then have time to shower and change. Now an interesting thing about the stage at the dog is this, back in the 80s President Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul met here in Fairbanks. They rolled out the red carpet for them. Somehow, the owner, Mike Brock of the Dog got a hold of this carpet and covered the stage with it. So many times throughout the night I looked down and realize I'm standing on the stage and thinking where did Reagan stand?where did Pope John Paul stand?sometimes I think both of them would have liked what I do. Red carpet a Pope a President and a rock 'n roll Prophet Not a bad combination.

This gives me the opportunity to tweak all my gear and make sure everything is just fine and don't have guitar necks that need to be adjusted or patch cords that need replacing plus I can see that the PA in functional. When performing live, Murphy's Law absolutely applies what can go wrong will go wrong. So I make sure I was have backups for my backups, extra batteries. Good chords, spare guitar, plus it gives me a chance to gage the room. And once I do the sound check I'm able roam about the stage and tweak the sweet spot. These are places where I can the best controlled feedback. Spots on the stage where I can make a note sing for several moments(drives the crowd nuts). After tweaking my gear. I grab my songbook and head to the bar have a glass of wine and start to look through my songbook. We are a classic rock band, but I have an extensive song list that runs the gamut of blues, jazz, funk and even several originals from my cd's recorded over the years. I begin to look through what I might want to play tonight. I love this down time before the gig. The calm before the storm. The time on stage prior to the gig gives me a chance to check the sound of the room as well. Each room sounds different, and as more people come in or leave throughout the night, the sound changes. Having done all that, I head home, and sit down to a nice dinner with my lovely wife. Allison and I are admitted foodies. We live to cook gourmet food and drink really great wine. So after dinner I head to my closet. I respect the stage too much to show up in street clothes. I hate it when I see bands that look like they should be detailing your cars rather than play music for you. Having lost 160 pounds in 2001 has awarded me the luxury of being able to buy very cool stage clothes and with the Internet and a credit card I can pretty much find whatever I want. So tonight I'm feeling a bit of a “60s Rat Pack” vibe. Having recently visited Nashville, Tennessee. I bought several very cool 60s style dinner jackets so I pick one out. A maroon colored number with a skinny matching tie. Blackshirt, tight black jeans and a set of polished dingo boots finish out the “Ready to Swing” look. Oh, and you can't forget the hat. I pick out one of my many black Fedoras. With outfit complete I give my wife a kiss, and I'm off to the club.

As I roll into the parking lot. I noticed that it is about half full. This is a good sign, that means half the people there are finishing up happy hour and the other half have showed up and started drinking ready to party for the night. I drive around the back park my van next to the volleyball court. I grab my guitars and come up through the deck door. The deck leads to the main room, dance floor, and stage. Usually, during my break I like to hang out on the deck. This gives me a chance to chat with the patrons have a nice drink. And inevitably there is some one passing around a joint or three. Here in Alaska, pot is decriminalized. So it's a good time for all. I walk up to the stage turn on my amp,the PA and my pedal board. Then check the tuning of my guitars. The rest of the band shows up, bass player and drummer. Dave and Johnny are two of the best musicians I've played with. They know my entire bag from the Jazz to the classic rock to my originals. Good musicians, in fact,they are great musicians. Great ones pay attention, listen and watch. What I love about these guys is they watch ME closely. I can holler and shout, move one way or the other and they are right in my corner rarely dropping a beat. Hell, they don't even smoke or drink. (I make up for their lack of bad habits). On my mic stand is a little shelf. On the shelf I usually hold my cigarettes, a slide, some picks, and a singers best friend - Hall's cough drops. They keep my throat lubed and my head cleared so that I can belt out the blues all night. I see sitting there a glass of my favorite wine. The bartender here is a cool guy. He knows what I like and this is one of the few clubs where the band gets treated nicely. Plus there is a tip coming his way later. It's still early so I say hi to a few my friends.

Most of us have been in the business as long as we have will tell you the first set is a toss off. The patrons need to drink a little more and get ready to rock plus the band needs warm up. I pick songs that for the first set go along. We hit the stage and we are off and running. Some Benson a little Stevie Ray and a couple of my own. "On Broad Way" is really great song to warm up on. We start the song I start a solo after two choruses. The solo consists of some double stops sort of a major minor thing with a trick I do where I play, a blues lick a minor third from the key. By this time the band and me are warming up and the crowd is starting dance. We end the set with a little something from ZZ Top and take a break. I hit the stage lights and signal the bar for “Break Music” something to keep the energy pumped.

Growing up I was never much of a fan of the Rolling Stones. But once I became a bar musician, I realized these guys know how to rock and get a crowd on their feet. Come on?40 years in the same band,they got to be doing something right. A Stones tune in the right spot in a set will get the crowd going. On my pedal board I have a yellow stomp box. This is my “Keef/Stevie Ray/Blues tone. Like a slightly distorted “broke up” sound. I stand on this while whipping thru the Stones and some Stevie Ray stuff. A little more Stevie Ray some Doors ,George Thuroughgood. By now the crowd is starting to really warm up. A few more tunes, and it's time for a break.
At the front of the stage running its entire length is a rail that stands about 4 feet high. I have an anvil case it's what I store my amplifier head in. The thing is built like a tank. I placed it in front of the rail underneath the lights. It works as a step for me to stand on, so I can put my foot on the top rail of the stage and really get in the crowds face. I use this throughout the night as I stepped forward to take guitar solos interact with the crowd.

During the break, I noticed a group of young guys in their early 20s. I hear from the bartender that they're all military guys. And that they're ready to ship off to Iraq, Monday. I am the son and brother of ex-military man. My father was third wave at Omaha Beach. My brother served two terms in Vietnam. I have a deep respect and love for the military and I like to acknowledge them whenever they are at the club,plus if I can I want to send them off with something special. I love Jimi Hendrix and had been playing his music for years. I play a whole set of his stuff. But I'm known primarily for my rendition of Star-Spangled Banner. Me and the boys to a combination I play Star-Spangled Banner, then we going to “Who do you love” by Bo Diddly. When I play this song. I have the drummer play a straight rock beat. While I do the dumb da dump da dump rhythm parts. What this does is drive the song and makes it more rock and easier to dance to.

Back on stage, we play a couple more songs. I start with some Hendrix, all “Along the watchtower “Fire: and “Bleeding heart blues.” The solo for Watchtower is probably one the greatest guitar solos ever record. A masterpiece. It gives me a chance to really stretch out and start to utilize my stone boxes. For some guitar players stomp boxes are the main course. For others or just spice to the stew. ( For instance someone like U2's edge.) The way he uses stone boxes is the main deal. He's mostly an atmospheric player not what I call a shredder. For someone like me. I use them to add color texture and flavor to the main thing , which is my ability solo."All Along the Watchtower" is one of the songs were I utilize several different things to add color to the song. Digital delays, chorus, pretty much all my stomp boxes. My digital delay is set set for the upbeat. I hit a note, then go” one AND two one AND two “ etc. so the song give me a chance to really stretch out and start to lay down a foundation and build the excitement. After my guitar solo, I go into a couple of BB King songs. Skynyrd, ZZ Top. The Top gets the crown going. We take the solo into warp drive I'm over the rail and in the crowd, playing guitar behind my head, standing on bar stools and playing with my teeth. They are is eating it up like candy There's a crowd standing around me, and I hand my guitar pick to some girl. I hold the guitar, while she plays it. Occasionally I'll even take off my guitar and drape it around some girl just to engage the audience more(drives the band nuts though when they start hearing all this incoherent racket coming out of my amp) I run back to the stage to finish the song. At this point in the night I'm chewing lighting and spitting thunder. With my head cocked sideways leaning backwards I'm letting it blast in absolute reckless abandon! The band and are “in the Zone” barreling down the tracks like a hot rod freight train on crack, unstoppable. I end the song with flurry of machine gun licks standing on my rack case facing the band slightly pushing my wang barholding that feedback driven final note. I nose dive off the step for a proper rock and roll “trash can”ending... “ and the crowd goes nuts”... Finally, I take a pause. I signal for the military guys to come over stand in front of the stage announced to the crowd that they're going to Iraq soon and we want to send them off with a bang. I stomp on the distortion channel of my Marshall do a couple of dive bombs with my wang bar and hit the first distinctive notes of Banner the Gi's standing in front of the stage pump their fists in the air and raise their drinks in salute to all things Hendrix. At this point in the solo it is a cacophony of sound. From dive bombs to a Harley fat boy running through its gears. I rattle off a pile of machine gun licks and shake my wang bar. I pause, at this point, all is quiet, and I slide into the opening lick of Thunderstruck by AC/DC. This stands the crowd on their ear. By now the GI's are punching each other spilling their beer and howling like junk yard dogs in heat. I continue with the solo and just at the right time, standing on my flight case 1 foot on the rail I raise my guitar and begin play with my teeth. This sets everybody off the edge. I turn and look at my amplifier. If it could smile, Mr. Marshall would be grinning from handle to handle and spitting fire. I turn to look at the band and signal time to end. So from the the final note we slide down to the cords C then D then E.I stand in the sweet spot, holding the E note in octaves as I get controlled feedback. I look at the boys in the band and signal break time and off the stage we go(We'll play Bo later in the next set) As I head off the stage. The Gi's are slapping me on the back and shaking my hand. I remind them to come home safe, secure and healthy. Next set.

Hump time, between one and two in the morning. This is when the crowd has been drinking all night and they are frothing at the mouth to boogie and we aim to deliver. Now it's time for the Stones,AC/DC Metallica and Megadeth. The hard stuff is coming. Requests are coming to the stage, along with tips and house is packed. It hot and sweaty just the way we love it.

I decided to slow it down, after pounding them with several songs by the aforementioned bands, I pick something slow and soulful. Hendrix” Little Wing”. I start the song with the pick scratch across the strings of the 12th fret. Slide down to open E in the second fret. I play as G chord with some filler notes and up to A minor. Few of the filler notes then to E minor. B minor B-flat minor A minor to C major. Then classic Jimi Hendrix cords,G. Major, A major F major. Down to C major to D major. Now comes the solo. The first part, I keep really clean with my chorus and compressor engaged. Some octave work as I stay within the realms of E minor pentatonic. I watched the crowd as couples dance slowly. I add a little bit of distortion with my yellow peddle to the sound to build slowly. As the band runs through one or two more choruses I continue to build intensity. Finally, the moment comes, I stomp on my distortion channel, and I hit a high D note the on the B string. I pull a note from a D to a E, and slowly rock it back and forth to give it that singing quality. At this point, I am beginning to be surrounded by a wall of sound. The band, and I are one. And the line between performer and audience begins to blur. This is the sweet spot that moment of takeoff. It is what all musicians strive for, To dance together in the fire. I continue to play, and open my eyes to see many of the dancers have stopped dancing. Now they feel it too. The hair in the back of my neck is standing up. There are goose pimples up and down my arms. As I twist and manipulate these notes slowly rocking my trem bar I begin to get controlled feedback. That adds to the intensity of the moment. I feel it, they feel it, this is that special moment. At this point, my guitar is not so much an instrument as is an extension of some part of my body. All the lines are blurred, and it is one incredible and very intense feeling. I end the song with a flurry of notes, nod to the drummer,it's break time.

The last set is usually a wind down set. We call this set “Motel time “you know what motel spelled backwards is girls? LET (E)M!!.. Here is where the band starts to pull out some of the more interesting songs. Some of the patrons are putting on their jackets, calling cabs and heading for home. The crowd is starting to thin out obviously, so the band rolls into some of the more esoteric tunes by John Coltrane,Miles Davis, Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani,and George Benson. Maybe even a little Steely Dan. We end the night with” Lenny” by Stevie Ray Vaughn. I thank everyone for being there that night, remind them to drive safely, tip the bartender and the waitresses and we will be back tomorrow. I turn off everything on stage pack up my guitars and head to the bar. The owners,bartenders and waitresses are all happy. They made good money tonight, and they really enjoyed the band. I get the bands pay, check the tip jar and pay the guys. Grab my jacket and I'm out of there.

Back at home time I am chillin, I got something snack on and am having a glass of wine reflecting on the night and my life. I'm a pretty lucky guy. I have a great day job,three beautiful kids, a lovely wife, and I get paid to play the guitar. Something I used to do for free. Not bad for a kid from Fairbanks Alaska.

So, come back with me now my friends, to where this all began many years ago. You'll find that is started in a very unusual way. As Jerry Garcia once said, and I quote” it's been a strange trip after all”.

Early days and Gospel Music.

My first band...it was fun and oh so naive. the year 1974,Fairbanks Alaska,,,the heart of the Jesus People Movement in the Heart of the Interior...read and enjoy...leave a comment!
"The Good Shepherd Band"
As time would have it there were some changes in the "One Way In".I continued to attend sunday services at the Assembly of God but friday nights and any other free time I had I hung out at the One Way in. The original founder ran off with this single gal that had come up with them...the jack weed left a poor woman broken hearted with two sweet babies alone to fend for her self...I could never figure how you could call yourself a Christian and do something like that. I would learn in time the concept of "sheep and wolves" "chaff and wheat"...the ministry was briefly in the hands of one military guy then shifted to an ex-Assembly of God minister from the back woods of Arkansas who could preach the paint off a wall.
This fella had a couple kids one being a guy named Monte. A prize winning school athlete who had gotten miraclessly paralyzed healed from an injury that had left nearly paralyzed . Like his daddy he could preach holy ghost fire as well. He and I became good friends and have remained so thru out the up and down times of our lives. Monte has this gift, a genuine gift of encouragement. You could find yourself neck deep in a cess pool with the guy and he would turn,look at you and say thru poo splattered lips.."Ain't Jesus GOOD!!!".
By this time I had a nice Christian girl friend,been singing in the school choir and playing bass in the school band. My poo colored Silvertone had been long replaced by a couple of up grades and I was at that time sporting a "Copy Cat" copy of a vintage Fender Tele bass. I had finally gotten an amp. This squat boxy off brand called of all things an "Olsen" seemed to fit. I think I paid 50 bucks for it at the local music store. Monte and I formed a band of sorts. He on guitar and vocals,his new wife on vocals and tambourine and this lanky banjo guy..odd as usual for me. Also at this time I had finally bought my first acoustic guitar. Another copy of an American instrument. A Yamaki. Jap copy of a Martin. I was literally playing the frets off it. I never went anywhere without that guitar...you'd see me you'd see the guitar..."There goes Steve and his guitar"...I had two friends that hung around the half way house that played far better than me and one night I sorta crossed over...this may seem trivial but it was a turning point for me. Being a bass player i had memorized the notes on the fret board,and knowing how to play chords ment I could easily follow along with anyone as long as I could watch their hand make the chords. This also led me to begin to develope my lead guitar playing...they would strum an E chord I would noodle around some e notes. Unknown to me at the time was I was really playing an abridged version of a blues scale. Except when I tried to make the run above the high g string to the b string it sounded terrible....and frustrating. Then one night watching my two friends jam out on the porch I notice my buddy was doing a similar run except when he came to that stupid string he moved his fingers up one fret....one fret...sounded cool...bluesy I went straight way to my guitar and tried the same thing with the same results...and off I went..doing that riff up and down the neck..Clapton be Dammed!!!!!!
I spent most of that year playing with Monte and it was FUN. Yeah it was alot of the KJNP stuff..southern Gospel...but it was still fun...something I found out,sometimes "playing a song" can be alot more fun than "listening to a song"......what most people miss and what most of us musicians thrive on is this...as intense your emotions are listening to great music and being caught up in it's magic...it intensifies ten fold when you are in the act of creating the music...there are hardly words to describe it...loud,soft heavy and light all at the same time...and just plain EXPLOSIVE! One other thing I recall even though the Good Shepard Band never made a dime..good full gospel people ALWAYS, fed us well! They don't call it "Full Gospel" for nothing!
Just prior to my debut with the band another point of turning had taken place. As I said by I had a nice sweet Christian girlfriend.In fact it was interesting when I first started dating her I would come over and hang out I was exposed for the first time in my life to what you could call"a normal" family. I would come over at dinner they would pray over the food...talk about their day..her Dad would sit in his easy chair reading a book as we watched tv....no drinking,no fighting,no plates or dishes flying around. No coming home to find my Dad passed out on the floor....A good Christian family...as close to "Leave it to Beaver" as I had ever seen. My Gypsy construction working Dad had moved us to Anchorage at the midway thru my sophomore year. This had put a serious hurting on my love life with my high school sweetie. And I really hated the school..But an interesting side note that would play out in my near future.While I was attending West High each year they had a state wide music fest. Bands and Choirs would come from all over the State and perform. This use to be competition until one band beat everyone so many times that they did away with the competition part...the Lathrup Malemute Concert Band...led by the band teacher one Mr Bob Boko. a band I would find my self in a year later...with out even trying to or having to audition for(there weren't to many bass players around in those days) I had come to see my girlfriend sing in the choir. a mixed show choirs and bands...come on school bands ? how white bread can you get..so I sat thru a day of dip-shit school bands playing Sousa marches and medley's of the Carpenters songs ...until the curtains parted and there sat an 80 piece orchestra dressed in purple and gold..with the band logo displayed on the side of the stage in gold as well...they started to play and the performance and choice of music was SO striking I could see clearly why they routinely trounced the state bands.
I came back that summer to see my girlfriend and unbeknownst to me she,her mom and Granny had a sit down over me. Granny lived just down the street my girlfriends mom and her were best friends. They made a deal for Granny to rent me a room dirt cheap. I had been working at the local McDonald's so I could pay the nominal fee Granny charged me..I'd live off Big Mac's and dinner with my girlfriend..so I found myself at 17 moved out...in all those years since I only returned home twice...once to care for my ill mom and again many,many years later at the break up of my second marriage...both times I didn't stay long. So I entered my 11th grade year an "independent grown up" today that may be normal but not back then...I would finish my last two years in high school working full time and living on my own...the stage was set for a moment that would forever change my life...the CALL....

"They call us Holy Rollers and What they say is True..."

I am not an expert in church history but I have read some of it's history. I have always had a fascination with the history of church revivals and how they impacted society in their aftermath. Starting with Martin Luther, John Wesley,Billy Sunday, DL Moody, Smiths Wigglesworth, Aimee Semple McPherson. Many of these preachers would go on to found denominations that would form the landscape of today's modern church.
I was being swept up into a revival that had it's foundation in the Azousa Street movement of 1906 in southern California that gave birth to the modern pentecostal movement. A movement that from it's seed came such denominations as Assembly of God, Pentecostal Church of God, Church of God in Christ etc. God has targeted the disaffected youth of that time and intended that not only would we get saved but we'd get filled with the Holy Spirit as well. What came out of the Jesus People Movement were such churches as Calvary Chapel and The Vineyard just to name two. At a tender age of 16 there was no way I would or could conceive what I was getting into. God was moving in my life and that was enough. It would be later when I would struggle with the class of culture over Christian commitment and the difference between being spiritual as opposed to being religious. So the story goes, this event took place just a months after my salvation in 1972. In sharing my story and looking back now in my middle years here is my perspective. One would think that the drama of my commitment to Christ would lead to mass success, ministry, financial prosperity, the white picket fence life...once I got saved all my problems would be solved....not so. In my life I have had to overcome horrible circumstances. I am the son and grand-son of alcoholics who emotional,physically and sexually abused members of my family. I have had to overcome morbid obesity,drug addiction poverty and homelessness. It took 3 trips to the alter to finally marry the right one. I was married for 14 years to a truly evil selfish woman who used the love of my children,my devotion to God and my good nature to keep me under her thumb. She slept under my roof,ate my food,spent my money while she routinely visited the beds of lesser men than I. It took me a decade to pay off the debt she left me with, 5 years alone,3 years in intense therapy to figure out why I allowed that kind of evil in my life. Money has always been in short supply. I have lived in fear of the "shoe that is about to drop" most my adult life. Every day job has been just to keep my music alive and the wolves at bay. Oddly I spent 14 years in mental health caring for adult mentally ill. I discovered that I am hard wired to care for those less fortunate than I. I grew to love that job and to truly love my people. Most my friends always seem to make and have more money than me. Yet (due to the life God gave me) I am far more well known in the community...they got money....I get "fans"..I have had a life that has been not so much "rich" as "enriched" the essence of true life is summed up I think by a quote from of all people one of the richest men in the world Warren Buffet.."I know a lot of really rich people, but to be truly rich is this...how many people that you love really love you in return"...rich or poor do the people you love love you in return...we take to heaven the love we have here.

My introduction to being a "Holy Roller"....1974...a cold winter night in a tiny apartment off Cushman street in Fairbanks Alaska

"HOLY GHOST FIRE"
The next few months I walked around three feet off the floor with a silly "cat that ate the canary"
grin on my face...I was happy with no real reason to be so. The change in me was immediate and striking. First off, My party buddies noticed that I wasn't interested in the party anymore. In fact the first thing that changed profoundly was this...I totally lost all desire to get high. Something I could not quit, and what was once my master had in fact become my slave. It fell off me like a piece of rotten fruit. I didn't even miss it. Secondly school began to get interesting. Where I had been flunking wholesale I found I was now pulling good grades and digging it. Everyone around me began to take notice in the change and wonder what had happened. I found that I had become a natural soul winner. Frankly I shared my new found faith everything that wasn't nailed down and half of what was. First off I drug my party pals off the Granny's for some of those meetings. And to my surprise a couple became believers.
One night I got invited to a bible study being conducted by a grey haired couple who probably had been in the faith several times my age.Once again I found my self in a "smallish" apartment with with all the accouterments of a a retired couple...overstuffed chairs,doilies...Lacey lamp shades...it looked like they could hang out with Granny...and have long discussions on the joy of lace....it seemed to me that God hand picked certain elder saints to ready the world for the revial of youth that was coming...they seemed to be standing at the door as we came stumbling thru with nary a clue where to go and these dear elder saints were there to help us "on our way" As the meeting broke up I noticed a military guy sitting in the corner quietly "speaking in tongues"...I sat and watched him for a time and it appeared he and Jesus were "a really good time"..finally I couldn't take it anymore I had to know what this was all about....I walk over and tap him on the shoulder and say ...."OK man, what exactly are you doing?"....well he opened his eyes , a face all aglow and proceeded to try to explain this odd and other worldly thing to me ...the more he tried, the more confused I got and frankly more the creeped out I got...I kept thinking...."if this guy hasn't taken his medications...he needs to"..after getting nowhere with "mumble man" I look over to see Mark comparing doctrine notes with the elders and I tap his shoulder and say"got a minute?....need some insight here",,,,,we step outside..It was an early winter night,kinda cold with those big fluffy snow flakes falling. We stand there in sweat shirts shivering as I ask him about "talking in tongues"He quotes a few scriptures that frankly mean little to me but finally says...."This is more of Jesus"......ok.....more of Jesus....at this time is OK with me....sign me up.......so I walk back into smallish holly roller lacy apartment look at "Ma and Pa Kettle" and say...."I want,would like uh...sorta.... kinda.... finally I point to the dude in the corner and say!OK! SEE GI JOE ,MUMBLE MAN!!!!!!..I WANT SOME OF THAT!!!!! these two precious saints turn and look at each other then turn and look at me(by now I was sitting in the hot seat)I don't know if there is a "sanctified wicked grin" but they had it!!!! They "Laid their hands on me" and off we went....I thought my moment of salvation at Granny's was powerful....this sent me to the moon....as this "mother in the faith" held my shoulders and prayed in tongues"...uncle Tom in the meantime danced around my chair in circles shouting "Hallelujah" and telling the devil he was "Gonna wup him good tonight"...in Jesus Name.....meantime...I'm hanging on for dear life!....hands clenched white knuckled to the edge of my chair..I felt like I had licked my fingers and stuck them in a light socket...meantime sister grey hair continues to pray in tongues as she clenches my shoulders....brother Tom is on a "Holy Ghost sprint" shouting at all things "evil" and running sprints around my chair, I finally open my eyes to see "mumble man, Mark and all involved standing around us, hands in the air praying away in tongues...I'm sweating like a street walker in a confessional..when once again I have that odd...other worldly feeling....a feeling that something was happening inside of me that had it's origin...in heaven.....the "inside-outside" feeling....just like my first night at Granny's....so I'm sitting there sweating like a snowbird in summer....and I begin to feel....this sense....like some power outside me is twisting my tongue.....freaky....shaping my tongue to form odd words.....forming.....forming shaping....prompting......as the meeting continues to build...sister praying....brother Tom sprinting.....Mark,mumble man and all involved in worship.....shouting.....finally I open my mouth......let go and .......POW!!.....I BEGIN TO SPEAK IN TONGUES....NO MUMBLING.....BUT A WELL DEVELOPED ARTICULATE LANGUAGE...I WAS TALKING HEAVENLY TRASH!!!!!!!!....from rebel without a cause I became a Holy Roller ready to Rock!!!.......I got up the next day ,it was a sunny snowy day.....as I walked to church... I was smoking a cigarette. The Spirit spoke very clearly to me and said...."You can quit that" and God completely delivered me from that addiction.....and for the next 10 years I never had a problem with smoking......HOLY GHOST FIRE!.....God was bringing me from an AIN'T to a SAINT from a SINNER to a WINNER and all in short order!

God Speaks, And Serious Stuff Happens!

I believe that for the most part God is silent. Most people aren't even sure he is there. Garrison Keillor from "Prairie Home Companion" prayed a prayer I heard on the radio during my trip down here from Alaska. It went something like this,"God please exist,hear this prayer I just want to know you are really there. Please exist, because if you don't and I die, I'll wake up pissed knowing after all these years I should have been an Atheist!" (my paraphrase) Some would take issue with my statement. Let me clarify. In the day to day life of a believer there is, I believe, a dialog between God and his children. What I'm talking about here are the "Big Event" statements. The "Your whole life is about to change" type of "Words from on High"! They are prophetic in nature, deeply personal and very powerful emotionally. In my 54 years on this blue ball, and in my 39 years as a believer, I have had 7. For the majority of people they never have any. For someone like me there was a plan and purpose and as with my salvation God once again invaded my life with a call. Of these "Words" three occurred early in my walk and my music. One, a year and half before leaving Alaska to move to LA another a year and half before leaving LA. Another in the truck of a total stranger God had sent to me with a message during the most horrible time in my life. And the last was sitting at breakfast with my producer in the midwest where we had come to play the Christain festival "Cornerstone" that was three years ago. How did I know this was God speaking? Besides the emotions involved, the fact was I was not paying attention. These all came out of the blue,two occurred at church where I was called out by the pastor. And without exception every single thing God had said to me came to pass(with not a single effort on my part). I do realize to the general public I talk a lot about God. Please humor me. I don't mean to offend or alienate. But these were events that led me here. Here is where it all began..1973

"The Call"
That summer we continued to attend the Assembly of God as well as the halfway house. Fairbanks at this time was in transition, from a sleepy little hamlet to the jumping off point in the interior for a construction project the likes of which the entire country had rarely seen...the Trans Alaska Pipeline....a 900 mile metal snake that would suck black gold out of the most hostile and forbidding environment on earth to send it south to feed the hunger energy starved nation. A project that would make some very wealthy and change Fairbanks and Alaska forever. And I would do my time "working the line". People from literally world wide would make their way here to stand in line at the local unions to get their chance to make the big money never before seen that was there for the earning. Two street would see business boom and the local musicians would be in hot demand, this being the days before karaoke and DJ's..back in those days top 40 musicians could actually make a good living just playing clubs...something that hasn't been happening in this town for years.
I found myself singing in the choir and playing in the band at school. As well as helping out playing my first guitar at the local youth group...the stage was set for an event that would set in stone my focus and purpose for the rest of my life.
As with many of these events of my life they happen when I'm really not paying attention and minding my own business. And usually I/m the only one aware that some serious event just happened.
It would be this moment in my life that would be defining and make me just plain ODD. Had I not had this moment who knows what direction my life would have taken....ya I was playing a lot of music but really I wasn't looking at any of it as a "life"...it was just a thing I did ...like reading sci-fi books or going to movies it was something I really wasn't that serious about...mostly at school choir and band was an excuse to avoid some other "pencil and paper" class hang out and not have to take some dum ass test afterward......in short I had zero ambition...zero confidence...growing up in a blue collar family a life in the "arts" of any kind wasn't even an option and my christain peer group(i,e the grown ups)sure didn't consider it a career path worth taking.....you know....retirement,medical benefits....paid vacations...but hell really what did they know?.....and the real thing here was at that time I really couldn't play very well, ya I knew some chords but guitar instruction back in those day(at least around my little town) was dismal to say the least. What books you could find at the local music store were either classical guitar or old fat cat and frankly confusing Jazz. This was a time that pre-dated "tableture"or "tab" musical notation so if you didn't read music you were out of luck,and the internet wasn't even a gleam in Bill Gates eye.. There was literally nothing...nothing on rock music ...it would be years till I came across a few books that introduced tab and "How to play like Hendrix" (which I snagged)I learned my first slide guitar licks off one of those books....
So it was with this going on that one night I went to the sunday evening service at Assembly. Nearly from the moment I got saved I had begun to seek God for what his plan for me was....ok ya saved me,filled me with the Holy Ghost....what do you want me to actually DO?...back then my ministry options were on a short list...having only been aware of what I heard at church and they were as such(top to bottom) PASTOR,EVANGELIST,BIBLE TEACHER,YOUTH PASTOR,ELDER,DEACON,USHER......or......church janitor...I probably was only qualified to be the janitor.....hey "It's a living"
Over the years I have heard literally thousands of sermons. I couldn't for the life remember any of 1) their subject matter or 2) their titles....but this one had stuck to me all my life...that sunday night the pastor preached on the portion of scripture after the Children Of Israel had been delivered from Egypt and sat at Mount Sinai waiting for Moses to return. The title description "Receiving God's Marching Orders for your Life"...yes an appropriate tittle.....little did I know what was about to happen. As I had grown in the faith I had begun to experience something once again the was "Inside me yet had it's origin other worldly" in times of prayer either with my friends or alone on rare instances I would have (for the lack of a better description) a "vision" It was if God would pull back the curtain of this world and briefly reveal the other world...the spiritual one. This was not anything I could anticipate, it always came as a surprise..and I never afraid because these experiences would always,,always be accompanied my a strong sense of His Presence and peace and with that there is never any fear. Sometimes it would be just to know how to pray for someone. Years later I would come across a couple of land mark books on the subject...one "Deliver Us From Evil" by Don Bash-um and "I Believe in Visions" By Kenneth Hagin...Brother Hagin explained it very clearly with scripture references and examples in his own ministry. I would go on to read nearly everything he ever wrote, the Apostle of Faith they called him.
That night as I sat there all of 17 years old,green as a christmas tree and still wet behind the ears I listened intently to the sermon. There began a growing desire to go forward and pray after the service ended it was a strong prompting I was feeling from God. I don't know why,maybe it's traditional in those kind of churches to go forward.....it's not like God can't speak to me in a pew...maybe it's significant that through out the bible there is always a "crossing over" a departure to an arrival...crossing Jordan...through the Red sea...crossing the wilderness.....call it a "willingness walk"...so after the pastor prayed I walk forward ....I kneel down and "Pow" I am swepted up into God's presence...this was one of those very rare moments when the entire physical world fades into the background and drops out of sight and I find myself alone with God...what opened up to me in my minds eye and my spirit was this....I saw myself standing on a stage, an out door stage...it was strange because I felt like I was standing in the crowd...me looking at me...I saw myself on stage surrounded by a ton of equipment...huge PA system,guitars, large amplifiers, drums, mic's and mic stands...all the accouterments of a rock show...I saw myself playing and singing(something I definitely had no confidence in)...and I heard as wall as felt God's word to me....."THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE DOING FOR REST OF YOUR LIFE.......THIS IS MY CALL ON YOU....."By then I'm standing up weak in knees.....then Mr Doubt shows up...I'm thinkin......"dude you took one to many hits of acid...." you got to be kidding...I can count on one hand the chords I knew....I thought of all my other friends who were so so much better and more talented than I...as the cold creeping fingers of doubt continue to inch their way up my backbone...the Assistant Pastor, a largish feller with a friendly smile comes up to an says....."Hey you play guitar don't you?".....I am jolted back to earth...I look up and sheepishly go...uh......yyyya?.....sorta.....he goes, Ya? good! Next sunday we want you to play...we are having a special music night and a gal here says she needs a guitar player to accompany her on the flute...so you're drafted(the guy had never even heard me play)......I stood there looking heaven ward..and go "OK God I get the Idea".....ya I get it...and just like that "poof" away went the creepy hands of doubt...and I had received both a Gift and a Call that would refine, define and sustain me the rest of my life(even though it be a hard and at times very lonely journey).....you can never tell what will happen at church on sunday night...could be nothing at all or SOME BIG EVENT.....so go to church...and Believe!

"The Scene"

When the world thinks Music and New Orleans, they think" Bourbon Street." It was funny recently I bought a copy of "X-Men,Wolverine" and there is a character introduced in this movie called "Gambit" He's a mutant from New Orleans. In the scene he is introduced he is seen playing cards on Bourbon Street and the first thing you hear is someone playing the blues. The truth of the matter Bourbon Street is mostly classic rock. Yes you'll find the blues,Funk,R&B, and Zydeco but when I first came here last August I walked it's entire length in and out of all the live music clubs. What I heard was mostly classic rock. In fact because I consider myself a classic rock musician(if there is such a thing) I didn't hear a single song I didn't know or hadn't played. What I've gathered form a few conversations that the locals don't consider Bourbon street to represent the real true New Orleans. It's kinda like someone who comes to Alaska and buys a Ulu knife that was made in China. Ulu knives for those who have never seen one were knives the Alaskan natives designed for skinning and scraping hides. The good ones are locally hand made. Or someone who comes to Alaska during the summer(which is fine I guess)If you want a true Alaskan adventure come to Alaska in the winter and experience 40 below,ice fog ,18 hours of dark and the northern lights.
The locals here, as with their sophisticated and highly refined tastes in food, share the same discriminating tastes in music and art. Without exception the locals look at Frenchman Street as where the real scene is. My observation is there are gigs all over this town but from what I've learned a gig on Frenchman will add an air of being legit and could lead to something more. It could also take sometime to snag one. Let me qualify all this by this. I am really not that picky. Maybe I should be. But after years of playing in a scene where the club owners would rather have frigging Karaoke or a DJ rather than real musician's, I'm really looking forward to playing a party hungry crowd. I want to play Bourbon street! I've always adopted the attitude that as long as I got my guitar strapped on, crowd to entertain and there is some money involved later..I'm way,way ahead of the average joe working in a car wash. But on the other hand I am totally stoked about being in a city that encourages musical exploration and celebrates something original. I have a ton of my own material,several cd's worth and I write all the time. Another thing I found funny and alot like Fairbanks. My friend said none of the working musicians here ever rehearse. They learn the set off cd's or they already know the bag and just show up to play. That's totally how it is back in AK. I will fit in here fine..live well and RAWK....s

"Me and my Guitar" or how french class started my career!

Here is how avoiding the boring can lead to something you need. Once again, the deep dark 70's!

"Two trumpets,one bass and a reason to cut class".

When I was about 14 I helped my brother clear some land where he was about to set up a trailer he and his family would be living on. Rather than have him pay me in cash I asked that he buy me a bass guitar. My thinking back then was I was not talented enough to ever get good at the regular guitar. Bass only had four strings, you didn't had to learn chords or scales(or so I thought) so I'd become a bass player. So my sister-in law and me went first to a local music store to price basses. When she discovered all the cool,Ricky's,Fenders and Vox basses were beyond what she was willing to pay, it was off to the local pawn shop. There we found a budget and I mean BUDGET bass...I think it was a Silvertone with only one string and an ugly dog turd brown color and looked like it had been dragged behind a truck over broken glass. (frankly that would be considered cool today) yep ugly and cheap...but it was a bass...we went back to the store had it restrung with new strings(at least she was willing to give me 3 more strings to learn on) and I insisted on some sort of book to learn from. I got "Mel Bay"s Learn to Play Modern Bass Guitar" frankly the book may as well been written in Greek. It made no sense to me. But it did have one thing that would come in handy later. On two pages were the bass fret board with all the notes spelled out and on the facing page the bass clef where all the notes on the neck appeared on the written staff and what the lines and spaces represented in terms of notes. I had a bass, a book, my strap was two shoes strings tied together,ya ready to rock???maybe.

That Christmas my mom had presented me with a great Christmas present. She had gone to the local department store into the music department and asked the clerk for two things a stereo and a stack of records. Luckily she got someone with a well rounded taste in new music(God forbid she had gotten some twit who would have sold her piles of Muzak,Kay tell,Country or easy listening drivel) she presented me with Led Zep,Chicago,Blood Sweat and Tears ,Sabbath,The Allman Brothers Live at Filmore East, Skynard and one album that would stick.....Grand Funk Railroad...It was so cool this picture with this guy wearing a floppy hat and a large polka dot shirt.....I played that till I wore it out.

Once I got the bass. On would go the records and on would go my bass as I'd play rock star in front of my mirror.....ya ya ya

Walking down the hallway between classes. 9th grade at Ryan jr high. Hair down to my shoulders,biker boots,Levi's and leather jacket...not a friendly or inviting vibe to "higher education"At this time in my life I spent more time in detention and in the school parking lot getting high hustling chicks and selling drugs than I did pursuing the three "R's" reading righting & rithmatic". Up walk these two "preps" from the school band... trumpet players(next to the oboe how un-cool can you get or so I thought until I discovered Miles Davis..the coolest guy on Earth)) "Steve we hear you got a bass guitar"....I'm thinkin...ya but no amp( and no way to get one)and frankly I have no idea how to play the dam thing. ...I go "Ya and your point?" they reply..."We want to add an electric bass to the band it will make us sound better"..."I don't have an amp".."don't worry bout that "..... "OK boys when is the class?"..."3rd period"?...(3rd period...I got this crappy class and the teacher hates me)...ooh...ok...you got a deal"...so the next I show up and meet the band teacher. He attempts to explain the basics of music theory whole steps,half steps, etc...he may as well been explaining how to chart inter stellar space travel...all I could think was "This has to be the most Un-cool guy I've eve met"

Finally he hands me a folder full of sheet music and points to my place on the band stand(next to the tuba the next un-cool thing I saw in that room)

Next day I check out of my crappy 3rd period class,say good bye to the teacher that I knew wouldn't loose any sleep over me moving on and show up for band practice. I found myself parked next to this chubby Latino tuba player(the epitome of all things un-cool)I set up two music stands one with the the music we were working on and my book that my sister-in law had bought me. At least I could try to learn the notes and try to play along because I knew I was on my own to handle this gig.

A word here, as of this writing I have been a professional working musician for 30 plus years. There was not a single thing in school band I ever learned that prepared me for that life. In my opinion k thru 12 music instruction is a joke. Most those kids can read music but there are never any real classes that teach you about MUSIC. Ask a kid what a 1/4/5 in Bb is and they will stand slack jawed. If they even know how to play a harmonic minor scale they couldn't tell you what to do with it. Most of school instruction is "Monkey see Monkey do"...it's like a car mechanic who has no idea how an engine really works....let him change the oil but don't let him grind valves. So with this in mind I spent an entire year in the school band and walked away none the wiser.

My peer group at this time was not my school chums. At 14 I hung around with a group much older,19,20,21 years olds. These were guys and gals that I had met at this down town "youth club" called "The Upper Limits" ran my a couple "Dot and Dave" and their 3 boys. The place was located on 3rd Ave. above the Co-Op drug and featured local live music and served burgers and dogs. What it was really was a place we went to after we hung out at a house party,smoked some doobee,ate some acid,drank a bottle or two of Ripple. The place was were I got my first exposure to seriously LOUD music. I remember the main group that played there was an interesting 3 piece called "The Boston Public Library" of BPL for short. A tall lanky blond guitar player and two black brothers real brothers. One on bass,one on drums. They played Hendrix,Grand Funk, Sabbath,Zeppelin, all of it very well and very loud. I used to dance my feet off there as a 14 year old. And began running with an older crowd as a result.

Every third period I'd show up stand next to the tubby tuba player with a solid body pooh colored bass and beat away not being able to hear a single note. I wondered what the band teacher was thinking. He insisted that I play a pep rally for the basket ball team with the rest of the band. So I'm standing in the gym trying to play along when I hear from across the court"Hey Steve,turn up we can't hear you!"

Enough of this I thought. I had seen a smaller bodied Up right bass in the instrument room one day so after my humiliation at the pep rally I took it down and noticed that it played surprisingly easy. Not wanting to lose my air of "cool" any more I asked the teach if I could play it. Now I was cookin with fire.

I spent the rest of the year playing a bass I could hear but did not play a single song. I knew the 1st measure of "Bach's Fugue in D minor" but that was it. I literally faked the entire year....but hey it kept me out of that other dismal class. Flash forward two years.

The beginning of my junior year these same two trumpeters would once again chase me down in the hall way to draft me for the high school band. By this time the pooh colored bass was gone,I had finally bought my first acoustic guitar and had found my self singing in the school choir. A strange event in itself considering I really didn't know how to sing and no one around me(including myself) ever thought I had any talent,except the choir teacher. I told the trumpeters I didn't have a bass any more. They said "No problem,we got a bass,an amp and this is the best school band in the state with one of the best band teachers in the state" ..."OK what period?....3rd..(another dismal and boring class)....it's a deal...here we go again"..

I say all this because God was setting the stage for an event that would set in stone what the rest of my life would be. Thank God for dismal,boring 3rd period classes!

"A day at the museum"

I'm 54 years old. I've lived most my adult life in Alaska. Today I had and amazing experience that until today I had only seen in books of on-line. My wife and I visited the NOLA museum of Art. Located not far from where we live. Mind you now that New Orleans is New Orleans but this is still a community of a little over 300,000 souls. This museum had an amazing collection on display. Today I stood inches from Renoir, Monet, Degas, Picasso, Georgia O'Keefe..a JACKSON POLLACK!..There was a real genuine Faberge Egg..along with a mind boggling array of gold and jeweled cigarette cases, mini eggs, all types of royal bric and brac(Tzar Nicholas was stinking,stupid rich) The galleries took you thru Dutch, Italian, French and German painters that have spanned the last 1000 years or so. It was amazing to me to stand so close as to see the texture of the last brush stroke the master left. What I found so cool is none of these Master pieces weren't roped off,behind glass cases (well the Tzar's stuff was) they were just sitting there hanging on the wall.I walked into one gallery where they had very large painting of both Marie Antoinette and Louis the 17th. Marie's painting was on a slightly raised platform with two original chairs from the period. My first impression was to take a seat and get a pic(there was a little sign asking you not to) all very public assessable. I stood there being transfixed by the Jackson Pollack and realized I haven't lived or seen much. They were doing a large display of Disney stuff. It was very cool to see original pencil sketches of Snow White, The Little Mermaid etc. We went thru a section that featured class and pottery. Allison said she was struck by the fact they had "class" bottles that dated back several centuries BC. For a city this small to have a museum of this quality...unreal..That place will deserve a "come back"....the adventure continues.....live well..and PAINT!

A moment in time that lasted and eternity

1971,I'm 15 and this was a moment that would alter the whole of my life,that of my families and so many of my friends. Here at 54 looking back I see how this quiet moment made all that I would become possible. Not a day goes by without some reminder of this birthplace...the day the Lamb wrote "Steven Derryl Olsen" into the Lambs Book of life...read on my dear friends..and witness a life given birth from ashes.

"Salvation.....with a big S"

After my run in with Elvis pretty much everyone else at the friday night meeting sorta left me alone. This was good because it gave the Holy Spirit free run to begin to work on me. By this time I came alone aot to the meetings sans my girlfriend. I lived in town she lived out in North Pole so it was easier for me considering I lived just down the street. Finally Sonja and I parted company..hey no problem...still it did hurt some...she had lost a friend who had died in a car wreck..She couldn't reconcile God's love and human tragity....I could see where she was coming from this a fundemental struggle with many people "Why does God allow suffering in the world"

So I continue to attend Granny's friday night meetings. On a snowy winter's night in October I come to the meeting. This night the group was small and quiet. To back up at home things had gone from bad to worse. My Dad and I were at each others throats. Mom continued her downward spiral and was losing her mental state almost daily. Dad continued to drink to excess. It was really hard on my two younger sisters.Home for us would NEVER be a normal "Leave it to Beaver " home.....home for me then was only a place to crash,take a shower,and raid the fridge. I was flunking at school and getting high eveytime I could.....Frankly I needed God.

It was on this friday I came to the meeting with no real anticipation of anything special. Although the night before I had had a rather strange dream. In my dream I was standing in a field with a large crowd of faceless people.

In my dream I stood at the edge of this deep dark bottomless pit. I kept bending over but I couldn't see the bottom. One of the leaders Mark was standing and preaching to a crowd of faceless souls when he turns and looks me strait in the eye and says"Unless you recieve Christ as Saviour Your fate is that bottomless pit"With that I awoke and needless to say school that day was even more disjointed. So that night I sat there singing along listening to the preaching when it can time to take prayer requests. We started to pray for a woman whose child was struggling with cancer...No "Come to Christ appeal....just this....I close my eyes bow my head...and the whole world drops away...I'm alone unaware of Granny,her living room,the leaders...I couldn't hears any voices...felt no worldly feelings.....I was utterly alone with God...as if Jesus and I stood side by side...There was one voice and one request...and or challenge.....NOW IS YOUR TIME....WHAT WILL YOU CHOSE?...honestly it was a no-brainer.......I SAID YES YES YES I WILL.....from deep in my soul...slowly....a burp,then a bubble....a gurgle....like an underground well that had finally been untapped....springing up from below,,,,came,,,,JOYJOY OVERWHELMING JOY UNSPEAKABLE ... I open my eyes and ....I love everyone and everything....I AM OVERWHELMED AND SPEACHLESS.....I don't know what to do.....I want to jump up and down,shout run and tumble....I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time....I JUST WANTED TO HUG SOMEONE....so I hugged Granny. I just sat there and trembled....that night as I left I knew the kid the came thru that door earlier and the kid walking away were two different people.....my name was now written in THE LAMBS BOOK OF LIFE.

I went to bed that night and slept in a deep and wonderful soulful peace. The next day I rolled off my bed with none of the usual crankiness on irritation. My bedroom at that time had two beds my own bathroom and a window. I used climb out that window on a regular basis to party with my friends. That summer a run away named Josephine would routinely crawl in my window to crash and use my shower along with doing the "you know what" with me....this morning I stood in front of that window and look at the bush outside and it looks "different"..different yet the same.....weird...I go upstairs where mom is drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes...I realize....I Love my mom....I reach over and give her a hug..."I love you Mom"..(something I hadn't said to her in far to long)...She looks at me a bit surprised and says "Thank you honey I love you too" my two little sisters are sitting at the table eating kaptain krunch....with a look like they weren't sure what was going on....I look at the two of them...they had been such a pain in my butt and someone I didn't want to bother with...now I see them as precious...precious...I walk over and hug and kiss them both....they look at each other with perplexed expressions....like "what happened to big brother?....then they break out in a big toothy grin.....and hug me back..

I go outside and walk around the hood just looking at stuff........everything and I mean everything from the sights,sounds,and even the smells were different and new....I would learn that scripture later that would describe in detail what had happened to me....IF ANY MAN BE IN CHRIST HE IS A NEW CREATION....OLD THINGS ARE PASSED AND ALL THINGS.......ALL .....THINGS......BECOME........NEW......I had been born again....and I was a mere 15 years old.....the adventure begins....

The interesting world of NOLA politics

As a note, I shucked my first oyster yesterday. Allison and I got a Williams and Sonoma gift certificate for Christmas. We found both a food mill and a shucking knife. I did pretty good for my first try. Happy I didn't stab myself to a bloody mess. I am so addicted to fresh oysters!

NOLA is in the middle of a new Mayors race. It has been interesting watching the local news each morning. I just have to mention one guy in particular. There is this fella named Manny"Chevrolet"Bruno. A former out of work actor/stand up comedian who has run several times. Although this guy is serious, his interview that morning put me in stitches. I love watching the local news show. It's unlike any I ever seen else where. Most places the local news is short and boring. Here they feature a live band and a local chef. Manny starts the interview by comparing a fellow candidate's taupe' as looking like a Chia Pet. When asked why he was running he stated that he likes to travel and Nagin gets to for free. The first thing he would do is put up big street signs all over town with his picture on it to let everyone know he's in charge. Then he would fire everyone on staff at the city and start all over by controlling every part of the city government. The next thing he would do in legalize pot. His motto is "I'm a troubled man for troubled times...and now I'm even more troubled"...he ended the interview by saying he had been in love with the same woman for 8 years..if his wife ever finds out there will be hell to pay!....only in NOLA

Speaking of southern politics...recently Allison visited the Roosevelt hotel. Amazing place,like stepping back in time. In the lobby is a replication of this box that Huey P Long used to take everywhere with him. I forget if they called either the "donation"box,"ballet box" or "suggestion box" basically if you wanted to do business in LA you had to "donate"..rumor had it that there were documents in the box that could hurt the then president Roosevelt. Upon his death the original box was never found. Southern politics like southern presidents...never boring.

Finally got it right

"The Magic Chord"

Steve Olsen at 15. A weekly event were the "Jesus People"meetings at a house on college road owned by a saintly retired woman named Helen Douglas. "Granny". Granny would go on to help found and maintain one of the cornerstone ministries in Alaska. First the "Lighthouse Tabernacle" from there the "Lighthouse Christan Center" to finally "The Door of Hope". All started by a frail old woman who every Friday would open the doors to her rickety old home to a bunch of rag tag ex-hippies,stoners,GI's and punks who had little future ,no ambition and little else to do on a weekend other than get high and get in trouble.

I've wondered thru out the years how Granny got talked into this. Frankly from a cultural perspective she had about as much in common with the lot as chalk has with cheese. Still the Friday night meetings were life changing for many that attended, including me. The "pebble in the pond" she provided when you think of it can be mind boggling. How many came thru her home and received Christ then went out and shared that love with others who in turn did the same?....and so on and so on? In my life I saw the fruits,once I became a believer I shared my faith with friends and family who did the same. In the case of my own family I saw the mercy of God alter our entire course. For the better. My sister Ellen and her husband Gary have been active in their home church for years, a church in which Gary is a deacon. Many went on to become active in missions and international ministries. Some just married and raised children in the faith who in their own right went on to service of God and humanity.

This was such an important time in my young life. It would alter and change the entire direction and focus of a life yet lived. Time and experience have brought an appreciation of the impact all this had on what would be my life later. Sort of like waking up one day and looking at the floor of the home you live in and realize how important it was to have a master brick layer lay the proper foundation.

The Friday nights were always a ''what will happen tonight" event. Sometimes rowdy,sometimes soft and reverent other times just plain pentecostal"off the hook".

Alaska in general and Fairbanks in particular can be defined by this one thing...pre-trans Alaska pipeline and post- trans Alaska pipeline. That event in Alaska changed this entire state both in the fortunes, futures, and fiances but in the communities of folks who came to ''work the line'' and never left. I lived thru both and saw first hand how Fairbanks went from a sleepy little town whose main industries were the University and the Military and the occasional gold miner. To a town over run by all sorts looking for big money and fast times.From less that 20,000 to well over 70,000 in less than a year after the line started. It was nuts. But honestly Alaska has always been a boom or bust kinda place.

This short period was the calm before the storm. It was at Granny's on a Friday night that I would have a turning point with the guitar....a moment of "crossing over" that looking back no one (including me) realized or were even aware of...except GOD....

The meetings were conducted by a couple of guys who played guitar and led us all in worship as well as taught the bible study afterward. The meeting usually went as such...praise and worship,prayer and prayer requests then preaching, an invention to receive Christ,then a little more prayer then fellowship and hanging out.Until Granny chased us off with love so she could go to bed.

One night towards the end of the night I picked the mains guys guitar. It was a fairly nice classical guitar with low action and nylon strings. These kind of guitars are traditionally easier on your fingers that a steel string acoustic. That night I sat in the back on Granny's back bedroom stairs in the waning dark and held this guitar in my hands. It felt really good. Odd as this may sound,as I held it I felt God's presence(an at that time I was just getting to tell what His Presence felt like) holding that guitar not only felt good it felt "Right". I reached back into my memory and found one guitar chord someone had showed me once. I couldn't tell you what it was (I know now) but I placed my fingers on the fret board. My fingers line up in correct form(now granted this was a really nice,well made guitar,set up properly. A well made properly set up guitar will make even a beginner sound like a pro) I run my right hand across the strings.....every single rings out clear as a bell.Somewhere deep in my soul I feel....a click,like a key turning a lock..a hand in a glove..a deep sense of "yes you finally got it right..."it felt good really really good..

....I Played my first perfect chord!!! perfectly in tune it sounded full and beautiful...slowly I start to strum out a rhythm...up and down...my foot tapping time to the beating of my heart..I begin to move my chord up and down the fret board..my strumming hand slapping time with my foot on the top of that guitar.....before I knew it ..I WAS JAMMING!!!!!. I almost ALMOST felt like Jesus was dancing along and shouting for JOY. It was like the horse that discovered it's purpose was to run with the wind and the eagle that leaps out of the nest for the first time and discovers it can SOAR thru the heavens! I found joy JOY and purpose!....and I was having the time of my life sitting alone on Granny's steps....when some one noticed...."Steve's rocking out back here".....even though it would be several years before I finally could buy my own guitar. After that every time Mark(the owner of said instrument) turned his back....I'd run off with his axe and JAM JAM JAM for JESUS..........from that single chord...that simple moment of connection.....came a life full

of adventure, excitement,tragedy and triumph....a life that has led me along the "Road Less Traveled" ......one simple chord....."despise not the days of small beginnings".....

Grits, Guitars, and God's Gig.

I made my first of grits yesterday. They were a dismal failure. Hard,dry and tasteless. Still as with many things I cook there is always a lesson to learn. My problem was having no way to measure(many of our kitchen gadgets are still in transit from AK) But I can see a lot of potential in grits. They can be a blank canvas to many flavor combinations and one of the few food items that can go either sweet or savory. I'm anticipating interesting adventures in grits!

It has been unseasonably cold here. The news put out a "Protect your People,Plants and Pipes" I watched the news as they showed people buying insulation for pipes. I've seen something I never thought I'd see here,people wearing "Parkas"winter coats with hood and fur ruffs. Something you only see in northern climes. Allison and I went out and purchased not one but 2 space heaters. I had a nice one that I left in AK thinking I wouldn't need it here(wrong).

Guitars..In 1983 I was moving to southern California to attend music school. One of my life long best friends is a guy named Gary. "Big G"...he's Big G..I'm Little O"..G prayed with me on that day so many years ago and I still remember his sage advice"Steve there is a lot of money to made in country music". Truer words never spoken, wish I'd taken his advice! As fate would have it the last few years in AK my dear friend lived across the street. So on the day Allison and were leaving for yet another chapter of my life I decided to have my good friend pray for me once again. On this day G had company a friend from church. As they prayed this friend of his had a spiritual impression he passed on to me. He said "Steve I don't really know you except by reputation. You play the guitar and in the same way that you play your instrument God desires for you to be his instrument"I had that "knowing"in my spirit that this was a word from God. What this brother probably couldn't have understood is saying that to someone like me has a depth of meaning few would appreciate. From God's fingers to my strings!...let me elaborate on the world of guitars and amplifiers

The modern world of guitars and amps are divided into two worlds by different men both who made the world as we know it today back in the 50's at the birth of rock and roll. Lets start with guitars. I am talking exclusively here about electric guitars. There are two camps. Fender and Gibson. I'll explain the difference.

Gibson had electric guitars dating back to the late 30's early 40's pick ups attached to acoustic f hole guitars,OK till you turned up and had to fight feed back. It took a inventive genius named Les Paul to basically take the design of a jazz guitar(single cut away made from tone woods of mahogany and maple with a set neck) and make it out of solid wood. Plug into what current amp they had turn it up and because it's solid...no feed back.

Meantime out in Fullerton California there was this guy named Leo Fender. Leo unlike Les was not a guitar player. He just listened to many of the working musicians who came to his shop and offered practical advise to their daily needs. Dick Dale( a soon to be ground breaking surf guitarist) was instrumental in helping Leo develop both his tube reverb and refine the Stratocastor. Two different guitars,two different sound and two very different feels. Let me elaborate the difference. Gibson. To me Gibsons are a much more sophisticated and fancy guitar. set neck(glued to the body as opposed to being screwed to the body ala Fender) twin humbuckers with a 3 way toggle switch. neck and body made from mahogany with a maple cap. The sound? Let me quote Eric Clapton.".The front pick-up is what I call the Woman Tone...warm and inviting. The back pick-up is the "Man Tone" a bit harsh and biting."

Fender on the other hand was completely different. With bolt on necks and single coil pick-ups these guitars were made for country,surf and rockabilly. Leo invented the twang sound. Country guitar would not have existed without the Tele. Utterly unique in both it's look,sound and feel....Feel, let me explain. String length. Gibsons have a 24 and 3/4 string length. the amount of inches the string stretches across Gibsons 24 3/4. Fender 25 1/2. The difference is Fenders are harder to play. We are talking about roots here. The Gibson guitars and all the followed had their roots in this. Jazz. Flat fret boards make ease in lush chord voicing and single note solos. Death metal heads those explorers have their roots in elevator music! Fender, regardless of if you are Stevie Ray or Eddy V...there is a cowboy in your family tree!

Which leads me to this. After my prayer with G and hid friend I had a lot of time to think on these things. Us guitar players are a picky bunch. Like the 3 bears we need our rock and roll pottage "just right".The Perfect combination of tone,action and feel. I have had many guitars in my life. Some have never been a problem to play. Every time I strap them on they sing. Others are in constant need of adjustment. I have to send them regularly to my tech for a tweak. As I traveled south I decided it was best to be the easy guitar in God's hands and let him find the Gig!

Cool radio,Zydeco Music, Cajun Accents and Semitaries

Driving around town in our search for this and that Allison and I have been getting a feel for this city we now call home. We have seen some really wonderful parts of town where the homes and streets are just breath taking. Other neighborhoods have a very old world feel. While driving around we have discovered a local radio channel 90.7 fm. Our land lady turned us on to this. A very eclectic station. Lots of really great Jazz. They also feature Irish music, Classical, Blue Grass and they have a Zydeco show with this DJ who has the most pronounced Cajun accent. I find this accent to utterly captivating. This city continues to amaze me. I would love to in a Zydeco band at some point. From what I understand this station goes out world wide thru the Sirus network. The station promotes local musicians reviews and plays their cd's and has an hourly "whose playing where"announcement.

Allison have rented a place that is kiddy corner to the Fireman's Semitary. NOLA is rife with Semitaries. Now these aren't just a solitary head stone here and there, these artist go ALL out to create some of the most amazing sculptures in their mausoleums. Amazing artistry highly ornate statues,amazing stonework,some of the most expensive marble I've ever seen.These are works that deserve to be displayed in an art gallery. I've never seen anything like in my whole life!..makes me wonder if I'm in the right business. I'll tell the fine people of NOLA take dying as serious as they do living!!! All of it another reason to throw a party...coming or going these people will find a reason the dance,sing and eat..I love it. The wonderful people of NOLA are an interesting mix. They are earthy yet inviting, with a very sophisticated taste in all things culinary,artistic,and musical yet with an utter lack of pretension...so very different from the same type of people I met living in LA during the 80's...they know what is good yet they will, with open arms invite you to their table despite your current state of affairs ...they are truly sweet souls of the south!!..sweet and tender! full of love and acceptance...something so very rare..

In reviewing my life on this third rock...I have realized that with no effort of my own I have at times found myself an observer of what latter could be considered historic events and can offer an common man observation of every day event..let me explain my particular situation.

Case in point..I moved to Alaska 2 months after the 1964 earthquake..and watched Alaska rebuild itself, I graduated from high school and just happened to be in Alaska during America's largest construction project...the 900 mile Trans Alaska Pipeline...which I worked on.I became a Christan in 1971 became a card carrying "Jesus Freak" and watched the birth of Christan music, watched it grow from small hippie labels to the billion dollar business. During the 80's I moved to LA and was an active player with Stevie and the Saints in the Christan metal scene of the 80's and wrote a tiny footnote in the history of California Christan metal...the same scene that saw the rise of Motley Crue,Ratt,Quiet Riot,and Guns and Roses..Stevie and the Saints would play the same clubs and years latter in Alaska I would open many shows for them fronting my own band..finally I find myself in NOLA a city on the mend much like Alaska was after the 64 quake...strange the roads I travel...so here is a period of my time in Monterey in 1967..enjoy

"Summer of Love"

In 1967 mom my sisters and I returned to Monterey sans my Dad. I'm not sure but I think they weren't getting along very well. My mom and Dad's relationship was volatile to say the least. Both being mostly Irish add some alcohol to the mix my mother's growing mental state and my Dad's pandering and it's "duck and cover" time. It was a common occurrence in our home for pots,pans,dishes and ketchup bottles to be tossed at each other. Not to mention out and out physical fights. This absolutely played hell on all of us kids. Mom and Dad put the capital D in dysfunction.

How can you study for a test at school when you got to dodge flying crockery at home. It would be years before I was exposed to a "normal" family. And this period of our family was the worst. By this time Ellen had long since left home and married. She had a daughter ,Alicia and was married to a stiff named Ted. While he was stationed aboard a ship in Viet Nam she had come to Anchorage for a time. But at this time was living stateside. Prior to Mom coming back to Monterey my brother had quit school. Now my Dad being the hard ass he was took my brother down to the local recruiter and forced him to sign up. Not wanting my brother just"lounge around and eating all our food". He decided to "Make a man out of him".

It was at the height of the Viet Nam war and my Dad would rather see my brother dodge bullets than "lounge around" What was he thinking? I mean my Dad was a member of the union,he could have signed Glenn up for an apprenticeship,or sent him to trade school...the military?During a WAR....it's amazing any of us survived growing up. I'll discuss the effects my childhood would have on both my relationships and career later and how music would play a redeeming role in that drama.

Let me paint a broader picture of the other characters in my family. My Dad came from a family of 13. He grew up in the depression and with all those mouths to feed he rarely had enough to eat. Dad often said he never had a "square"meal till he went off to world war two. My Dad was third wave at Omaha beach and a crack rifleman who could shoot the ass out of a monkey at 500 yards away. He was also constantly getting busted for one infraction or another(those being the usual suspects,french women and German snapps or cognac)My Dad has out lived all of them not a small feat considering the amount of bad habits he had.

I had an aunt named Susie and an uncle,Loyd(there were more but these two stood out the most in my family) These two were absolute characters. Susie was my mom's sister. The youngest of 4 sisters. And the only one that never got my mothers disease.

Uncle Lloyd was the youngest of my Dad's family. Aunt Susie was married a few times but never had any children of her own so she dotted on us. Whenever she showed up it was party time. She had been a life long waitress and was always tossing money at us kids. She loved to drink, party and had the most hardy infectious laugh. I loved her dearly. Uncle Lloyd like Susie was the quintessential party guy. Always laughing ,singing , dancing and drink in. Lloyd had been married 5 times. Once to a gypsy. He said she was pretty nice but every time he turned around he was feeding someone he had never seen before and was always at a loss how these guys always had a ton of cash and no visible means of support.

I have very vague memories of my Grandfather. Glenn was a lot closer to him having spent more time with him. he died when I was quite young. I remember he ran a trout farm and had a couple of real horses. My Dad and Moms families came from the Oklahoma area prior to the depression. Settling in Monterey. Monterey had a very large cross section of ethnicity. Irish,Latinos Italians and Orientals. Monterey was the foremost producer and caner of seafood(sardines) during the depression(hence the Cannery row) whose native son John Steinbeck immortalized both the time and town in several classic novels. My Dad and most of my uncles worked the canneries during their heyday. My grandfather was a plasterer by trade and my dad and uncles took up the same trade as they came of age.I once saw a picture of my Dad and two of my uncles in army and navy uniforms ready for shore leave.My Dad told me two stories from his time in the war that stand out about his family. First he never got any letters,notes or cards from home while he was in Europe except once he got a box of gum and a note from his sister. He was aboard a ship at the time and said he stepped outside and wept like a baby over the simple gift from home. The second was after returning home Dad was walking up the driveway to Grandpa's house when he saw him Dad said Ben got up and came running down the drive way tackled my Dad knocking him to the ground, he then proceeded to yank on each of my Dad's legs...once satisfied that my Dad's extremities were all original picked him up gave him a hug and said"Welcome home son good to see ya let's eat.." Some welcome home!

My mom's side of the family comes from the Oklahoma area as well. It is her side of the family where we get the Italians. My mom's sister Dolores married the Italian fella named Sam. Uncle Sammy was a sweet heart who was a businessman and a part time accordion player. My two favorite cousins were his two daughters...Rosalind(Roe) and Sandra. Roe was close to Ellen's age so they were always close along with Glenn. Roe married a cook named Pete who went on to become a very successful businessman in his own right. What I remember was just how much I loved them and what great cooks they were. To this day every time I think pasta sauce I think of my mom and them.

There is two others I'll mention here. My Grandmother Helen and my step-grandad Richard. I grew up being quite close to Grandma. She took a shine to me early on and her and I were best buds. So many memories of her. I could see where Aunt Susie and my mom got their hearty laugh. I remember licking green stamps,going to the lake and always finding some weird dish frozen in tupperware in her fridge. Uncle Richard(what we called Grand pa) was a retired longshoreman. When I lived in Monterey in the late 60's he used to bring his boat there and he and I would spend the weekend deep sea fishing.When I would come up to visit Grandma we would pile into their Lincoln and drive thru the Haight Ashbury District in the heyday of hippie heaven.I still have strong memories of people walking around with painted faces,selling flowers,playing music on the street and panhandling, It was a day at the Zoo for us.There was this cool part of the beach I remember where the Haight Hippies would go and fish surf wood off the sand and build really cool sculptures from them. I have family that stretches from San Francisco to Carmel valley. Aunts,uncles cousins,1st,2nd and 3rd. There is a part of me that is sad over not being involved with such a lively bunch of relatives but Alaska was were we grew up.

Now the odd thing is my Dad didn't really like any of these people. He never liked Grandma,thought Uncle Richard was a stiff,certainly could not stand aunt Susie,didn't like Sammy, barely tolerated Lloyd kinda liked Pete but for the most part I think Dad couldn't wait to get the hell out of Monterey......which brings us back to the summer of love.

We moved back to Monterey and stayed with an old friend of the family. Lou Lang. Lou was the strangest old guy I had ever met. He had known my Dad his whole life and was just plain ODD.

Story was that most of New Monterey was built on land he had once homesteaded. He owned a homestead just south of Big Sur had a stake in several other businesses and was fairly well off.To look at him you couldn't tell. His normal attire were army/navy cast offs from the Presidio and he carried what little cash on hand in a worn leather pouch around his neck. Long grey hair and a big bushy beard filled out the picture. He lived in this house that looked more like a bomb shelter than home,surrounded by junk of all sorts. In his back yard stood a former chicken coop that had been converted to a home of sorts where dwelt another friend of my Dads and his family rent free. Inside the house was more junk and in the attic even more odd stuff,Including this..Lou had a mason jar where he would catch a live poisonous snake fill the jar with what ever rot gut he could felander off the neighbors and put the snake in there.The snake would bite the lid injecting venom and in time die. The idea being that if you drink enough of this you could build up a tolerance for snake bite,my theory was he was just to tight to buy his own alcohol and this was his way of getting it free. Lou never bothered to remove the dead reptile from the liquor so he'd drink the stuff with bits of decomposing snake swirling the bottom of the mason jar! He had been a mule Sargent in WW1 and just had a habit of collecting. He never married and had no kids. He was also one of the first "health nuts" long before it was fashionable. It was said at some point after the war he had contracted TB and was given only a year to live. He climbed back into the woods and lived off the land drinking only river water and what ever he could trap,catch or forage..came out 5 years later healthy as an ox. One thing I do remember. He had a pristine 1955 Cadi parked in his garage,less than 10,000 miles on it. The coolest.

Looking back I wonder what Mom was thinking. Sure staying and fighting with Dad was going no where but to my knowledge my mom had never had a job,and had never learned to drive a car. I'm sure she could have found something. But there we were Mom and 3 kids in tow. But not long afterward Dad showed up. And we moved into our own place. Dad rented this house that was right across the street from my aunt Susie's(much to his consternation) i think this was good for Mom because as much as I'd like to say things had mellowed they had in fact gotten worse. And Mom would retreat to her sisters house for refuge. If was frankly unmitigated hell at home. Dad continued to drink to excess they continued to fight with me and my kid sisters caught in the middle. One side note, every time my dad came home from the bar and passed out we would go thru his pants for loose change.....we visited the candy store a lot those days.

At a very early age I had discovered that I had artistic talent. I could draw,paint sculpt and just about anything else I wanted.It just came as natural to me as my brothers gift with mechanical things.It was also a way to escape the turmoil of home.

Monterey and specifically Carmel were "artists" communities. There were artists everywhere. I used to go down to this little grove of trees where some of the local painters would come and watch them paint the fisherman's wharf. There were art galleries everywhere. I being so young didn't realise what a cool scene I was living in. But on the other hand I was discovering that music would bring up these really intense feelings in me. And music was everywhere. It would be years later when Glenn would tell me he had actually gone to the 67 Monterey Pop fest...that's right he saw Hendrix,Joplin,the Who....his reaction?"nothin but a bunch of hippies"....I fear that my brother may have my Dad's red neck gene.....My Grandma and my teachers at school had recognized my talent and were encouraging me to pursue a life in the arts. My 4th grade teacher had me meet her after school and asked me to draw and paint some stuff for her. She was very supportive of this talent..I only wish Mom and Dad had been. At the same time I had a friend who's older brother worked at the local music store. He would let us hang out in the back and check out the new guitars as they came in. I was so enamured by the new Gretches, Richy's and Fenders...I loved the feel and smell of well made guitars even then(as a side note my brother on his return from boot camp came and presented me with a "Stella" learner guitar while we still lived in Anchorage..I was maybe 10,11 then. Well, while going to school that day to show it off at "Show and Tell" I slipped on some ice ,landed squarely on top of said guitar and turned it into splinters!!the only thing I could show at "show and tell"was the head stock and the keys...I was heart broke and this was a set back to my guitar playing life for many years!)...finally at 12 I wanted to be a guitar player!!!there was a really cheap classical for sale. I remember it was 12.00 I asked my Dad and his reaction was "I got no money for some stinking guitar"...thus it would be 5-6 more years before I could get one and when I did I had to buy it with my own hard earned cash.My memories of this time include the day my Grandma showed up and bought me my first bike(a Shwin with a banana seat) and my brother being in Viet Nam. As I tooled around town on my bike I would on occation visit this Catholic Church. I would go inside light a candle and pray for my brother's safe return home. Mom was always sending him care packages. She would send me down to this corner bar where they sold one of my all time favorite foods....Italian dry salami...it was absolute torture bringing that to mom and not taking a bite out of it....I promised myself once that when I grew up I'd always have some in my fridge(I do)Mom would fill a box with home made cookies,lots of liquor,italian twist bread, salami and send off to my brother..he would write back and say how he and his buddy's always looked forward to her care packages!. My brother would send these tapes from where he was stationed and they scared the hell out of mom. We would hear all these bombs going off guns firing and then my brother would get on the tape and say"arrrgh they got me"""" Dad finally had to tell my brother to lighten up some.

Looking back this period left a lot of memories with me. It was the late 60's in Monterey where a cultural revolution was about to explode and spred across our nation and the world.For me,I was just a kid on the cusp of change.

We had rented another house kiddy corner from Bayview Elementary School where I was enrolled in 6th grade. The house was a strange lay out. My bedroom was up a set of stairs that exited out of the bathroom. What was cool is it had a large bay window that each night I would watch the sun set over Monterey bay...it was beutiful even to a kid of 11. There was a pear tree outside my door so if I ever got the muchies at least there was fruit. I would lay in bed and listen to the sea lions bark all night as they lay at the end of the Coast Guard wharf. I recall watching the California primaries with mom one night. I got up to go to the rest room and when I returned mom was weeping in shock..she had just witnessed Robert Kennedy's assassination. My folks were total Kennedy followers. I had these two friends who were always showing up for some hair brained adventure. The Canneries back then were rusting,dank old hulks that were locked up and abandoned.There was the occational fire that would brake out. Rummer had it that the owners were paying someone to torch them to collect insurance cash.(They have since been renovated and are now some of the priciest real estate in the country). My friends had found a half rotted latter that led to an unlocked hatch. You could access this when the tide went out. So we spent half a day crawling around these dark dank smelly old canneries with flash lights. One other time my same two friends show up again with flash lights and stated they had figured out that in the empty lot down the street was a way to crawl into the rain run off pipes(concrete pipes that ran the length of the city)you could almost stand up in them. So we spent a day walking the pipes. Spooky. Especially when a car would drive over a manhole...it would echo like crazy. We exited after hours on the beach in Pacific Grove..I remember eel fishing after the tides would go out,I would go aboloney fishing on the rocks, tuff molusks but Dad would beat the hell out of the meat with a two-by-four and deep fry them. But what really stays with me about this period was several things..I started noticing that hippie chicks..who didn't wear much clothes,(my friends and I were beginning to notice girls)there was an influx of people comming to Monterey wearing very funky 60's clothes(my taste in style was growing even back then)..and the music..I had discovered Hendrix,the Doors,The Beatles..this music moved me! it brought up feelings I didn't know what to do there with!..That year or so was an interesting time,but finally Dad had borrowed enough money from old Lou and we returned to Alaska(and another chapter in my life)..I would not see Monterey again for 12 years and I would never live there again. Still today I feel privaledged to have lived there at the birth of the Summer of Love. A movement that started in Monterey then to Woodstock and (tragically) ended with the Stones and the Hells Angels at Altamont. Yet for me the Summer of Love was all about adventures in my hometown with family,goofy friends ,odd adventures....and music..next "North to ALASKA"!