October 1, 2020
A few days ago I walked by a baptism taking place at the beach by the Cabrillo Bath House. There were about fifty people on the sand. Unmasked and not observing safe distancing. I’ve already seen enough examples of churches disregarding safety precautions that I was not at all surprised. The holy always feel exempt from common decency figuring that god has an eye on them and would never subject them to any harm. Obliviously they go through life with eyes shut. It’s repulsive.
Although I kept my distance I could hear the shouts of “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” And “Amen Lord!” The flock ever obedient in their rote chanting. Christian music, not gospel or soul but generic rock, blared from a pair of speakers. The crowd swayed un-rhythmically. Three guys, perhaps ministers, anyone can become one, even me, led the initiate into the water to much applause. Cell phones were recording the scene. At the count of three they screamed “Jesus Christ!” and dunked the born again man under the waves. The gathering cheered wildly and also called out “Jesus Christ!” There was a lot of high fives and hugging, Covid-19 be damned.
I think back to my walk on this very same beach two days ago. It was a foggier morning than the sunny skies on the day of the baptism. As I passed two homeless fellas one said to the other, “Hang on, I gotta take a shit.” He preceded to walk into the waves up to his chest. He returned to the sand with a look of satisfaction. He did not, I recall, sing out “Amen!”
The lord does indeed work in mysterious ways.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eddie Van Halen died today. And while it is ridiculous to call someone the “Greatest Ever” Eddie was certainly right up there. It was his uniqueness that made him so important. He didn’t quite play like anyone else and nobody, even imitators, couldn’t quite play like him. He was a one-off as we used to say. I only saw him play once and it was a memorable evening. I sandwiched that show between Stevie Ray Vaughn two nights earlier in Saratoga and Dicky Betts the night after, also in Saratoga . Eddie’s favorite guitar player Randy Bachman opened the show which was in New Haven. Or as Sammy Hagar called it that night, “New Halen!” So I saw some amazing music in those few days. On that evening it was apparent that Eddie was right on. His energy was crazy. It was such a stellar performance that the band released the show on VHS. Yes, it was that long ago. So you can now go to YouTube and watch it for yourself. It’s called Without A Net. I’m sure you’ll agree with my critique. Sammy holding up a sign that said FUCK DAVID LEE ROTH was a bit much but the kids ate it up.
I am thinking that from those three concerts that Stevie Ray is gone as is Gregg Allman and Butch Trucks. And now Eddie. The chain gets shorter and shorter and the party less and less interesting.
I remember the day the first Van Halen album came out. (I guess I could look up the date) There was some hype from our local radio station. A friend picked it up and a few of us went to his house for a listen. A tradition and ritual that is sadly lost; the unwrapping of the plastic, the removing the sleeve and then taking out the disc. Gingerly placing the record on the turntable. The lovely smell of new vinyl. Delicately dropping the stylus down. The slight hiss of the needle’s contact. Analog kids we were indeed.
We played it loud. And then played it again. We loved Rush and Sabbath and Zeppelin but none of them prepared us for Van Halen. We couldn’t believe our young ears. This was something new. And we loved it. For the next two years you couldn’t go see a bar band in Western Massachusetts and not hear Running With the Devil and You Really Got Me. It seemed Van Halen had conquered the world. And what a ride they would have.
When my phone started lighting up this morning I wondered what all the noise was about. My first message from my pal Scott said the same thing as the twenty others. “EVH Fuck.” Some texts simply said “fuck!”
When 1984 came out, at the restaurant I worked, we would play it over and over after the customers left and we set up for the next day. We could get the chandeliers to sway when Michael Anthony hit those low notes.
We had many nights at the Tee Off where Todd Elliot, Scott Parent, Tony Ybarra and I would sit around after hours drinking wine and debating the merits of each Van Halen album. We started with the first one and over the course of a few weeks played the rest in order. I don’t think we made it to the last few because we kept backtracking to the first four. Fare thee well Eddie!
A cold clear night. Autumn winds float damp woodsmoke on the night air. The moon won’t be up until later. After my eyes adjust red Mars is bright. Jupiter, our gravitational shield, is brighter. Saturn less so. It is also the first night I’ve seen Orion since last year. He looms huge and low in the sky on the eastern horizon. The owls are quiet. When the wind slows I can hear the surf. A reassuring sound. In order to keep the bedroom window open I pulled out my old EMS sleeping bag, the one that, if I remember correctly, goes to twenty below.
At 4 AM lightning and thunder wakes me. A rarity here in Santa Barbara. I savor the flashes and rumblings. I shiver looking out at the rain. As always, we need it. I fall back asleep warm and clear-headed under thick blankets.
When I awake again the skies are clearing and it is light out. It’s cold, high 40s. The ocean is a chop and I walk in the wet sand and the intermittent drizzle doesn’t get through my thick Patagonia fleece. I’m standing near Sterns Wharf and my phone comes alive. There is encouraging news. Joe Biden has been declared the winner of this anxiety filled election. My friends are beyond joyful. Something that we feel was terribly out of balance now has a chance for realignment. We are giddy with hope and anticipation.
I know Trump won’t go quietly or with any modicum of class or respect. He doesn’t have it in him. He will make the transition as difficult as possible for everyone. He doesn’t understand basic decency or courtesy. He’s incapable of humor, kindness and compassion. He will act terrible, which is no act. It is who he is. He is and will forever be remembered as a dirty stain on this country. History will vilify him. I can’t fathom any other possibility. His qualities are all disgusting to anyone with even the most basic grasp of morality. He is a failure as a businessman, a president and as a human being. The sad thing is that his mind is so flawed that he will never grasp any of it. It makes you wish that there actually was a Hell because he would be a first round candidate for eternal torture. I, we, need to forget about him as soon as possible. But I fear it will take some time to counter the damage he has inflicted. I’m confident President-Elect Biden and Vice President-Elect Kamala Harris are up to the task. Kamala has many of us thrilled with her energy and youth. I hope she will be around for a very long time, say, twelve more years.
Books are stacking up again even though with coronavirus and my stint with sobriety I’ve had plenty of time to read. But I’ve also had plenty of time to shop and both Chaucer’s Books and The Book Den have made online buying and curb-side pickup wonderfully easy. So here I sit looking at my work table (and dinner table) that is proving to be a perfect master class in watching the command that entropy has on my small piece of the universe. It is now supporting six new books, two crossword puzzles, an iron teapot, a vintage Boy Scout knife, a week’s worth of mail, the new Alta magazine, four pens, two pairs of glasses and my laptop. How did it come to this? It is simply the cosmos trying to reach its maximum state of disorder and there is nothing I can to about it. The second law of thermodynamics can not be messed with. It is an unchangeable condition of existence. I will learn to live with it.
