So, about that guy from yesterday.
I graduated high school eight years ago, in 1995. That guy is someone I hadn't seen in just about that long. I don't have too many friends from that time with whom I still keep in touch, for one reason or many. Paul and I kept in touch occasionally, and then lost touch about four years ago. It was a shame, but I had no idea how to find him, so I didn't sweat it.
Then Lis called me last week from the Chicago campus of the National Guitar Workshop and started talking obliquely about Inna Gadda Da Vida and other things that mean something to me and Paul, but not much to anyone else. It was obvious someone was feeding her information, but I couldn't immediately figure out who. Eventually it dawned on me that she was telling me Paul Pollini was here in Chicago, teaching at this workshop. Holy crap!
I went over a couple days later, and we hung out, caught up on some of the things we'd missed out on, played some music, and just generally had a helluva time. Paul's a good man who hasn't had the easiest go of things, but is doing quite well regardless.
The Screwdriver Reunion may happen yet.
For now, I'm just going to show you this picture. I will then give you the opportunity to:
Details to follow. I will say that Lis, while not exactly responsible, is at least partially to blame.
I'd like to say something positive, having had sad and serious news for the past week. Lisa and I have moved in to our new apartment, and we're enjoying it thoroughly. The neighborhood is so much quieter than our section of Logan Square, which is suiting us perfectly. There are lots of people with dogs, which is not so good for Carly right now, but we hope seeing all these other dogs will help in the desensitization process. The apartment is much bigger; we're having some trouble figuring out how to use the different rooms. The first cut has my desk and drums in their own room (which will also serve as the guest room), which is cool. We'll see how it goes.
The moving itself was relatively painless thanks to the help we had from friends here, and Lisa's parents, who drove into town just to help. Thank you all! U-Haul managed not to screw everything up--they had a truck for us and didn't give it away. The weather was nice, the company was nice, the diner up the street uses real whipped cream in their milkshakes. We'll be fine here, I hope.
We're also trying out new cell phones for a couple days. If you like in Chicago and know anything about US Cellular and want to chime in, please do. I'm pretty pleased so far with the service, and we have about two weeks to cancel or change the plan before we're locked in for two years.
The only thing left is to get internet access working properly. There's someone in our building running a wireless network, but they have it password-protected. Maybe I'll meet them and mooch until our installation finishes.
We'll have more to say about this neighborhood, the apartment, the building, the dog, and everything else. So far things seem fine.
And now, back to Harry Potter.
People are so helpful sometimes. I went to meet Ben for lunch today. He's giving me an old Visor since mine recently bit the dust, and he's not charging me a thing for it. He is truly a nice fellow.
Today is a beautiful day, in the eighties and not very humid. Perfect biking weather. So I rode my bike to meet him. We ate at an irish pub not far from his office in Ravenswood, and as we parted ways he mentioned in passing that he'd never want to ride a bike in this city.
Sure, I've had problems. Drivers yelling at me to "get on the sidewalk" or telling me "you're gonna get killed!" I like the latter, since it conveys general concern for my safety. I wear a helmet and gloves, and I have a light for when I ride at night. I don't run stop signs (most of the time), and I always ride on the right side of the road. Overall, I'm a pretty courteous rider.
Nonetheless, today I got a death threat from a neaderthal in a car.
"Get the fuck out of the street!"
I turned around, wondering: what?
"Get out of the street! You're not a car!"
Said as if I might not be aware that I am not a car. My love for you is like a truck, but I am not a car.
Now, I was about to turn left, so I was moving from the rightmost lane to the left-turn lane. When this numbskull yelled at me, I was in the middle lane. At a stop light. A red stop light. You know, the kind that says you can't proceed through this intersection. In other words, I wasn't holding anyone up.
I was a little upset. I got off my bike, put it between me and their (there were two large dudes inside) car, and told them what I thought. I thought they should fuck off and just go around.
That didn't seem to please them, so I moved over to the far right side of the street, and as they pulled next to me on their way to the red light (about 5 feet away), this clown needed to jaw some more, calling me a "little boy", telling me things about my mother that my mother wouldn't like, and telling me that if I just moved along, I'd be "saving my own life". That's right, he threatened to kill me if I didn't ride away. Of course, it was an idle threat, but come on. We exchanged some more words, they weren't nice, but I felt like I gave them a piece of my mind they weren't expecting when they told me to move. I had a little bit less of that feeling that I missed a chance to stand up for myself against the bastards, the man, the forces of evil.
This charming pair eventually moved on when the light turned green, and I made no effort to follow them. They may have been idiots, but they were idiots twice my size. I have a friend here who had some people do the same thing to him, only he blasted the driver in the face with his water bottle. That car, a huge SUV, chased him down many streets and alleys, finally clipping him and sending him sailing off his bike. He sprained his hand, but otherwise was unharmed. It makes a great story, but that doesn't mean it was smart (and he knows that). I think we need to stand up for ourselves as cyclists on Chicago streets, but there's only so far I think it should go.
It's days like this that illustrate why some civil disobedience is probably a good thing. I don't know where people get off thinking cars on the only things allowed on the streets. I'm glad there are urban planners out there preaching the truth and doing some about it.
When did riding a bike become such a statement?
We lost a dear friend last weekend. Scott Morris was the first teacher I had in the bay area, and was my friend from the day we met. He was caring, compassionate, and a fabulous musician and teacher. He spread love everywhere he went, whether it was through his good humor, love of music, or concern for others.
There will be a tribute memorial in his honor on Friday, July 25 from 1:00 – 5:00 PM at the SGI-USA Culture Center, 2450 17th St. in San Francisco. I won't be able to go, unfortunately. I have been in touch with members of Scott's family, and have contributed a few photos for a collage they're putting together, so I can at least be there in spirit.
We miss you, Scott. But you knew that.
Update: Obits are now appearing in bay area newspapers: the sf chronicle and the san mateo county times and oakland tribune (which share an online obituary list).