As a Generation Disappears

Aunt Doris

Ciocia Tina

It's been a sorrowful year as I lost my Aunt Doris, my mother's sister, in May, and Ciocia Tina, my dad's sister, yesterday. 

With Doris' passing, this means my mother is the only one left in her immediate family; Tina's passing means that my father's immediate family is now gone. Generationally, all that is left are widows/widowers: Uncle Jerry, who was Tina's husband; Uncle Stan, who was married to Aunt Doris; and Aunt Donna, who was married to Uncle Bob, who died back in 2011. Nonnie and Uncle Bill both died within a few years of each other.

There was a horrible situation where technology failed me, as the message I got from my mother's phone translated as "Hi, your mom just died. Talk to me..." after I had missed calls from my sisters and Dave; for about 10 horrible minutes yesterday, I thought my mother had passed. 

So I know how I will react when I get that news. Typing this a day later, my stomach still hurts. 

These losses make me feel like both a child and an adult. There's a shift in the universe, where I feel like my generation is stepping onto the on-deck circle, ready but not ready to take on the ultimate leadership role. I'm also getting nostalgic, thinking back to those moments when I was a kid, just one of the cousins hanging out in the kitchen for a sandwich and a glass of Kool-Aid, waiting to go outside or down to the basement to play. 

My memories with Aunt Doris are sparse, as she married my Uncle Stan and moved to Texas in the mid-70s. Memories are of her living in the big blue house up the street from where we lived. I thought the house was the ultimate in luxury, as it had a sewing room, a hallway leading to different rooms, a second bathroom, and a laundry chute. But I thought the house in East Jackson was more fun, with a big hill to roll down and lots of neighborhood kids to play with. My cherished memory was of the blue denim jumper she made for me when I was in kindergarten, where she went crazy with all the new stitches featured on her machine, with loopy red, yellow zig zags, and green waves. 

When under Tina's care, there was a hands-off approach to minding us, allowing us to experience the freedom to be absolute brats to each other while playing kickball in the field behind the house or making our audition tape in the red playhouse, singing Bruce Springsteen's "Fire" into a black cassette deck and microphone. 

There was always a gift on birthdays or at Christmas, usually money, giving me the freedom to choose something for myself or tuck it away when I would need it later. My ever-responsible father would usually take it to deposit it into our savings accounts for later. I may not have appreciated it then, but now, as I am typing, I realize that nest egg slowly accumulated, and the $10 saved from my 12th birthday was part of the deposit I put on our first house, having drawn that money from my Kelsey Hayes Credit Union account back in 1997. 

Then I remember the Christmas break trip to Lansing, where the aunts gave each of us $10 for the Chuck E Cheese arcade after having taken us shopping and to the movies. While I had a good time, I also remember wishing, after dumping quarter after quarter into Pac-Man and Paperboy, that I had the $10 back. 

Or the time a substitute teacher insisted I had to ride the bus, mistaking me for the other Melissa in our class. I had a deep desire to ride the school bus and was more than happy to obey. My mother, frantic that I was nowhere to be found, called for everyone to help her find me. My aunt said she would be over as soon as she got Brian off the school bus. Welp, she found me, waving goodbye to her and Brian as the bus pulled away. That resulted in her running after the bus, Brian in tow, all while pregnant with my cousin Kevin. 

I imagine my father has already greeted you in heaven, with a "What are you doing here, sis?" 

When my mom visited her on Tuesday, Tina was weak, in pain, and I imagine, ready to join her immediate family again. I do wonder if there is joy in passing. She lost her father so young, barely a teenager, someone she hasn't seen in 65 years. When you die, is there a greater consciousness where you are a part of everything, or does God ease you into that, aware that the first thing you want to do in the afterlife is just see your family again? 

I'll see you again, Aunt Doris and Ciocia Tina. 

Project 3867: The Garage

 Huh, this idea is already a popular one in South Bend

The football and marching band season for Comstock Park HS is wrapping up. Will hangs out in the basement, and teenagers routinely troop through the house to join him down there. I like knowing where he is, but I wish there were more places for kids to go, hang out, and socialize. 

Here's a liability nightmare of an idea: why not a "bar" for kids? 

What were my tween/teen hangouts? Arcades with Pac-Man, pinball, a snack bar, and the bare minimum. ShowBiz Pizza for Friday night dances, which were immediately lame after the age of 15. AllSkate with a hardwood skating rink and concessions. There was one dance place up the hill from AllSkate, but I wasn't allowed to go there since the kids from other high schools hung out drinking cheap booze and getting into fights. Cruising the Ave, which was basically driving along Michigan Avenue and stopping at various parking lots to hang out with friends until the cops chased us away. 

So far as I can tell, CP has none of that; it's mostly kids hanging out at each other's houses, going to the movies, or (Pia) sneaking off to the GVSU apartments for off-campus parties. Even Oscar, Felix, and Diego would go to school events, come hang out here, and then run to McDonald's, where they were for only a short time. 

That's cool.

So create a destination for kids to hang out and chill. I have no idea what is cool, but provide charging stations for their phones, TVs connected to PlayStations and X-boxes, conversation areas, and a non-alcoholic bar to get smoothies, coffees, and stuff like that. In the garage, a small stage for high school bands to have a place to play, with the opportunity to throw those bay doors open for a larger crowd. 

Do kids even put rock bands together anymore?

Oh man, I hope this doesn't sound like lame mom ideas.

The Cereal Project: Light Up Pen/Stylus

Thinking I'm clever, but you can get these in bulk at 4imprint

School supplies, like rulers, erasers, pens, and pencils, were proven winners as premiums back in the day. One of my favorite cereal box prizes from the 70s was the Sugar Crisp eerily colored glow-in-the-dark pen.

It was an eerie light green that seemed to glow even in full daylight

Gord is a songwriter for whom, given her penchant for writing in secret, a light-up pen is appropriate. And in a nod to modern times, have the tip be a smart stencil/stylus to use on touch tablets.

Why Art Matters: Stevie Wonder, Journey Through The Secret Life of Plants

A blind man making us see

We saw Stevie Wonder in concert last year, a miracle in finding tickets the day of, about eight rows back. He was astonishing in every conceivable way. Doing what I do - obsessing - I read every article I could about him afterwards and was clued into the fact that this album, the soundtrack to the documentary Journey Through The Secret Life of Plants, was considered a huge disappointment by Motown. 

I have to take this criticism in context. It was 1979, and the charts were dominated by disco, hard rock, new wave, punk, and country. Stevie was coming off a decade of dominating the charts and awards shows with R&B funk classics like Superstition and Sir Duke, and albums like Songs in the Key of Life. This album was expected to be another massive hit.

This is none of that. 

This is Wonder as a composer and artist. 

And it's gorgeous. 

Yes, there are hits on this album, Send One Your Love and Black Orchid. But there's also the hypnotic Voyage to India, Come Back as a Flower, Seasons, and the Finale. Honestly, this is one where you drop the needle on track one and listen to the whole thing as a soundscape from start to finish. 

Reading more about the album, the packaging is a stroke of genius. The cover is embossed so you can feel the orchid illustration as well as read the cover in braille. It is scented, igniting another of the senses. I'm now in search of the record, hoping the CD offers the same sensation. 

Reading reviews online, it is clear the fans do not feel the same as the critics, Berry Gordy be damned. Please give it a listen, even if you aren't a Stevie Wonder fan. 

Lipstick on the Mic: The Three Degrees

Funky Divas in the 70s

I once mouthed off that I preferred The Three Degrees over The Supremes. The fact Diana Ross and company were ultimately more successful doesn’t change my opinion. Why?

Fact one: When Will I See You Again

Fact two: Maybe

Fact three: their completely random appearance on the TV show Sanford and Son

Fact four: the theme song to Soul Train, "TSOP (Sound of Philadelphia)"

Fact five: the king of England, Charles III, is their most famous fan

Quick bio: the Philadephia-based group formed in high school in 1963 “because it was fun.” The height of their fame was in the 70s, although they have had random chart appearances throughout the years, most recently in 1998 with their cover of Last Christmas. Sixteen women can claim to be a former member of T3D, and there’s a 2006 documentary of the band. 

Typing Out Loud: Hello, is this thing on?

Back when my hair was brown in my first Facebook profile picture, 2007. 

That was three pairs of skates ago. 

I've been writing this thing since 2008, and I like having a history to go back on to see my evolution as a skater, wife, mom, professional, and writer. But traveling to a skating competition this weekend, a friend commented, "Blog - what is this, 2006?"

Damn girl, way to make me feel old. 

But I'm going to continue to create this personal diary of sorts, even if no one else is reading. I used this to create during the pandemic, working on my Leadership degree, sort my feelings as I returned to high school with Will to see things from a parent perspective, and contemplate all things Beatle 55 years after the band broke up. 

Besides, the dirty little secret to anyone reading that doesn't know, there are features of this site where you can set yourself up to publish entries written far off into the future. Why? It's like writing chapters of a book for me. As for right now, I do have entries scheduled for release well into 2029, the year of my 60th birthday - I'm sure I will have feelings about that!

So I will continue to kick it old school and watch my literary journey unfold.  

October 2025: The Fifth Monkee, Charlie Smalls

"I met a girl, her name was love..."

At the end of season two of the show, the band and producers started a transition in the format toward variety, introducing their audience to new and interesting musicians. This was to steer the show away from being a sitcom for season three; instead, the show was canceled.  

As a musical theatre song-and-dance guy, Davy hit the jackpot with Charlie Smalls and, in their bit, discussed songwriting, rhythm, and soul. 

From Wikipedia: 

A musical prodigy, Smalls attended the Juilliard School at age 11 in 1954, staying until 1961. He wrote the song "From Me to You" for Hugh Masekela's 1966 album Hugh Masekela's Next Album and a song for John Cassavetes's 1968 film Faces called "Never Felt Like This Before."

After graduating from the High School of Performing Arts, Smalls toured as a member of the New York Jazz Repertory Company before beginning work on The Wiz. An African-American urbanized retelling of L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Wiz was adapted into a feature film in 1978. Smalls also wrote the score for the 1976 film Drum.

Smalls was a Tony, Grammy, and Drama Desk winner for The Wiz. At the time of his death, he was working on a new musical, Miracles. He died of a burst appendix in 1987. 

Typing Out Loud: That Day

If only it were that clean, I could have handled this...

Two days of typing out loud in a row? I have thoughts, apparently. 

Browsing social media over the weekend, a name popped up as a suggested friend.

And hmmmm, no. While not one of the bullies back in high school, she was one who openly made fun of me on one of the most horrible days of my life. 

As any teenage girl can attest, that would be the day my uterus exploded and ruined - RUINED - a pair of pants. 

Sigh. How to unpack this, 40 years later?

To be honest, I am to blame for not taking care of myself. But I was so young, my period was so inconsistent and... violent. I had no forewarning that it was coming, just a sweaty back and then BAM. And I do mean BAM, I would just be sitting there, and suddenly I was soaking wet. 

I panicked. 

I froze. 

I just didn't know what to do. 

And I had a test in my last class, honors English.

I was leaving gym class, where I had feebly tried to clean myself up on the small square of terry cloth given to us to wash after working out. Useless for what I was up against. 

And what of the sisterhood? 

Ms. Hogle, our tyrannical gym teacher? Proven in the past to be unhelpful, zero empathy.

My girlfriends who were in my class? Dealing with their own shit, an embarrassed shrug.

Other girls in the locker room? No one helped, no one suggested going to Sr. Barb for a clean skirt or pair of pants, or even taking refuge in a counselor's office.  No one offered a sweater to wrap around my waist or even to walk behind me to shield me from the stares, the pointing, the laughter. 

And point and laugh they did - I remember turning to see the two of you pointing and laughing. Seeing my horrified face, your faces contorted to hide your laughter, to only twist in glee at my mortification. 

No girl code to the rescue. 

I pulled my sweater down to hide the crimson stain and hurried to class. Preoccupied with my predicament, I didn't do well on that test - and was called up to the front of class by Mr. K, who asked me to clarify an answer to a question; I felt like EVERYONE was staring at my backside. 

I think I threw the pants away when I got home and showered. I didn't cry that day, but the horror brings heat to my cheeks even now, 40 years later. I still cannot believe my frozen panic.

Typing this out sort of helps me come to terms with the fact that every woman has had that moment when their body betrays them. Lord, it happened to me so often that I had the organ ripped out of me as useless about 10 years ago. 

To make myself feel better by typing out my trauma, what did I learn from this? 

I learned in moments of panic to solve the problem first, and panic later. 

Also have a backup plan, I am rarely without an extra set of clothes tucked away to either work out during the day or change in case of emergency. 

I also came to realize, later, when trying to get pregnant, that my PCOS diagnosis really went all the way back to my teenage years. So much blood... 

I also learned grace and empathy for others. Need a tampon? An exit plan? A jacket to wrap around your waist? You can rely on me. 

And also when not to laugh at others.  

You know what - I do have to mention that while I was alone that day, there was one person who did provide empathy when this inevitably happened again, so shout out and love into the universe for Molli, who had at one time told some boys to shut up, then let me know about the spot on my skirt and slide a pad from her purse. You are the girl I needed back then, and I never forgot your kindness. 

As for the other person: I'm sure you are a great person living a great life and have probably forgotten this incident long ago, and I've forgiven you, but sorry - I can't friend request you, even now. It's not you, it's me. 

Speaking of me, perhaps I need to forgive myself. I've let the very worst feelings from that day define who I was back in high school. It wasn't even a day; it was a couple of hours where I could have handled the situation better had I reached out to a trusted source for help. I learned from it that doesn't make me a loser; not now, not then. I was just a 14-year-old girl having a very bad day. 

Why Art Matters: Farley and the Chippendale Sketch

#TeamFarley

Kind of a cautionary tale of art that harms. 

On one side, the "Chippendales Audition" sketch with Patrick Swayze was physically funny as hell, and for Chris Farley, it was a turning point in his career, as he went from new guy to bona fide SNL star. 

On the other side... the sketch was a cruel joke that didn't quite land, and defined Farley's sketch character development until his death. 

The scenario: after countless auditions, it came down to two dancers to take the final spot on the Chippendales roster. To decide, they performed a dance-off. Swayze was technically perfect, and Farley was surprisingly agile, on top of being funny and sweet. The result? Swayze's character wins the audition, and Farley dances in desperation to prove the judges wrong. 

Bob Odenkirk: I hated it and what it did to his psyche... 

Chris Rock: There's no comic twist; it was just mean. And Chris wanted so desperately to be liked. 

Tom Arnold: Chris called me and said, "Now everyone wants me to be the fat guy." 

Tom Davis: He would slap himself so hard that you could see the mark on his face, and that would get a laugh from those writers, but I would see the mark on his face, and I just saw disaster.

Even Chevy Chase warned him not to go out like John Belushi.   

I agree with all of them. There was a tragedy in his character's rejection. The twist that would have been endearing would have been for Farley to win over the obvious beauhunk, as the judges would have fallen in love with his charm, humor, and the fact that some ladies love a full-figured guy. 

While he was a comic genius, once he started to pratfall for laughs, he threw himself around the SNL set at an alarming rate. His eloquent, gentle giant characters, such as the Incredible Hulk giving a eulogy at Superman's funeral, gave way to more Matt Foley exploding coffee table disasters. 

I dunno, many of his sketches were funny at first, and him breaking David Spade in a scene was always a goal. But the physical comedy that gave him his success also limited his growth as an artist and comedian. Tommy Boy got it right when he was the doofus who saved the day and got the girl. 

I wish Farley had seen himself as the winner and not the pratfall guy. 

Project 3867: Pop-UP Fundraiser Shop

 

Been to a car wash lately? Believe me, $5 is a deal 

What if you hosted a fundraiser and no one came? 

Or wanted to do a fundraising event but lacked the right space?

I'm thinking back to the days of the figure skating club hosting a car wash and desperately looking for an appropriate place to do it. We ended up behind a grocery store, struggling with potential customers' inaccessibility to the location and a simple thing like running water. 

I had suggested one time we have a rummage sale in the parking lot at the rink, but rink management refused. 

Then I think of Boy Scouts selling their popcorn outside Walmart and Girl Scouts selling cookies at Menards. 

Could this space serve as a fundraising pop-up shop? Clean facilities, ample parking, WiFi, central location, access to a dumpster, and a marquee where you can display "CP Baseball Fundraiser Here Saturday 9-2" in the heart of downtown Comstock Park? Available amenities include water for car washes, tables and chairs, bathrooms, and a small kitchen for gatherings. Have an event manager on-site to provide keys, troubleshoot, monitor cleanup, and secure the venue after the event is over.

This would not be an income-generating idea, but rather an open space to serve the community, operated as a 501(c)(3) non-profit. Minor rental fee, or else appeal to the local community for donations to keep the lot clean and serviceable. 

The Cereal Project: Movie Buttons

A Frye Family tradition

We liked to cover jean jackets with small buttons in the 80s, so for my birthday, let's give away some buttons! 

One of the endearing qualities of John Hughes' movies was that they were highly quotable. Even to this day, you could say, "Neo-maxi zoom dweebie," and another Gen Xer could tell you who said it, what movie, and in what context. 

But the movie is fictitious, no script is written, and thus far I've only imagined abstract plotlines and madcap scenarios. A basic plotline, told in buttons? 

Save Gord! 

She needs to get from Detroit to Miami ASAP!

For the Battle of the Bands competition! 

To perform her song, here's a quote! 

Lipstick on the Mic: Maria McKee and Lone Justice

 Press pic - they were on the verge, what happened?

When I get in my rockabilly mood, I inevitably trot out my two Lone Justice albums and get weepy over the lyrics to Don't Toss Us Away. Back in the 80s, they were a band on the verge, opening for U2, an appearance on Saturday Night Live, and respectable radio and MTV airplay. Linda Ronstadt was a fan and personally advocated for Geffen Records to give them a chance. Maria's beauty was likened to the era's other It Girl, Madonna, and her vocals were blessed by Dolly Parton, who said she was "the greatest vocalist any band could ever have." They were a rock critic's darling, their self-titled debut album among the decade's greatest. 

So what "didn't" happen? 

One theory is that as industry favorites, those two albums were held in such regard that the band could not meet the exceedingly high expectations, and any result outside world domination would be a letdown. 

Thinking of what was going on in pop music at the time - Duran Duran new wave, Prince's funk, Madonna's dance pop, salsa pop from Miami Sound Machine, Billy Ocean's sax-heavy light rock, light metal from Bon Jovi - was there any room on the charts for their brand of country rock? I know I loved it, but I can name only one other friend, Liz, who dug it. 

Then there was the fact that music in the 1980s was highly visual. This band was heavy on groove but a little light on teenage girl crushable faces. Maria, while beautiful and feisty, resisted becoming a cover girl to sell her music. The record label rebuilt the band around her in search of a more radio-friendly sound and MTV look. 

It didn't work, and the band broke up in 1987. Maria pursued a solo career, landing on a few soundtracks, including Pulp Fiction. The rest of the band went on to other acts and session work. There was a record released in 2024, well after two band members Dan Heffington and Gregg Sutton passed away, serving as a sort of reunion/swan song. 

I consider my taste to be pretty mainstream but I'm a sucker for acts like this. I have recently started listening to Little Steven's Underground Garage again, and my body seems to crave more of this. I wonder what another indie group from that era, Tommy Conwell and the Young Rumblers, is up to? 

The Fifth Monkee, Julie Newmar

Gorgeous

Appearing in only one episode, I present the head-in-the-clouds laundress April Conquest, as portrayed by Julie Newmar. That each of the bandmates fell in love with her is no surprise. 

Reviewing her stage, screen, and film credits shows she started on stage in 1940 in a production of Alice in Wonderland, and her most recent was in 2019, playing a doctor in the series Dark Shadows. That's 79 years!

She has always been an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ rights, becoming a cultural icon and object of affection in the movie To Too Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar. 

Fun facts!

In the early 2000s, she settled a feud with her neighbor Jim Belushi by appearing in his sitcom to poke fun at the argument.

She is a classically trained pianist. 

She was involved in community real estate and gardening, improving property values and enforcing noise ordinances in her Los Angeles neighborhood.

Circling back to her role as April and her love of fabrics, she holds two U.S. patents for improvements on pantyhose and bras. 

At the time of writing, she is a healthy, 92-year-old living with her son. 

Also at the time of writing, I am contemplating pulling the program I choreographed back in 2021 to The Girl That I Knew Somewhere to revisit it. My polka dot dress is ready to go and I will be a Class IV skater very soon.

Typing Out Loud: Fit and Fashion

Maybe in 1991…?

Went shopping for a few niceties today and, as per usual, exited through Macy’s. Of course, there was a detour through clearance, where I found this pure sweetness on clearance for $5.

Five bucks!

But since I’ve resisted impulse purchases - thanks to binging on Hoarders - I wanted to be sure it fit before I spent a dime. 

It reminds me of the bid dresses the girls at colleges across the country are wearing while they hit Tik Tok while rushing Delta Gamma, AOPi, DZ’s, ZTAs, and others. The dress was sweet, flirty, flouncy, but also…

Young. Too young. It fit great - oh, what it did to my waist! - but it just isn’t who I am anymore. I could have gotten away with it for Phi Gamma Nu bid night when I was 22, but not a run to Aldi at 55. 

I don’t know how I feel about it other than kind of sad. I wanted to feel pretty, and it just felt like a costume. Like I was trying too hard. Definitely not dressing my age. But I’m not ready to swing the other way toward heavy double knits and old people's clothes.

I’m just saying there's a reason I’ve never skated to Disney either. 

I have other thoughts on the phenomenon that is currently rush week at all those southern schools, but that's for another problematic time. I hope all of this is for your own empowerment, ladies, and not exclusively for the approval of the male gaze. Remember how they felt about the Barbie movie. 

Post #800 - Project 3867: The Crock Pot

Raise a tureen to post #800! 

I love making soup with fresh ingredients

This summer has been hot AF, but as summer is winding down, my brain shifts from salad to soup. 

I may not be the greatest cook, but I am pretty good at soups and stews. So why not open a soup bar similar to the dearly departed Applegate's in St. Louis?

From a visit in 2011, the beloved Applegate's soup bar

Offer a buffet of crockpots serving a variety of soups. You have your standard everyday soups, like chicken noodle and chili, but rotate in seasonal fare: something lighter for summer and heavier for winter. On Fridays, you might offer clam chowder and lobster bisque, and in the fall, a hearty vegetable soup. 

Step it up on the cracker/crouton selection, as I'm snacking on Schuler's rye chips. Why wouldn't you offer Cheez-Its with cream of tomato or wheat thins with beef barley? 

And for those on the go, soups that are sippable and snackable while driving. I bet I could get a soup-to-go food truck for late-season football and winter sports.  

And a nod to the original inspiration - always have tomato basil ravioli soup on hand. 

The Cereal Project: Puzzle Book

Cover inspired by tagger art from the rail yards in St. Louis

I loved the activity books my aunt and uncle would give us annually for Christmas, which featured word searches, coloring pages, mazes, trivia, and more. Mini versions were also available in cereal boxes, sometimes accompanied by a small watercolor "paint box" featuring dried pigment that would activate with a drop or two of water. 

I envision an 8-page booklet, the first spread is music trivia about Detroit (pp 2-3); the next spread is a coloring page and a word search (pp 4-5); the next spread is another color page and a maze (pp 6-7); and the last page would include The Free Stickers! sticker glue dotted on (artwork featured last month), with a promo for the movie and all the boring copyright stuff that needs to be included. 

Here's the fun stuff:  

How well did you do at trivia? The key should go on page 8, but answers are below!

color page, page 4

word search, page 5

coloring page, page 6

fun maze, page 7

Pulling together a mockup should be fun and easy.  

Key: 1. B; 2. A; 3. D; 4. A; 5. A, B, C; 6. B; 7. E; 8. A; 9. False, the fans were from South Africa; 10. D; 11. A

Lipstick on the Mic: The Andrews Sisters

 

Maxene, Patty, and Laverne - putting the woo in boogie-woogie

Drama from The Spice Girls? Tabloid fodder about Blackpink? People still sore that Beyonce split from Destiny's Child?

Girls, please: in-band drama isn't anything new, take it from The Andrews Sisters.

Laverne, Maxene, and Patty got their start in vaudeville and became successful during the Big Band era, performing their mix of pop, swing, and jazz but also introducing audiences to jump blues and calypso. They had huge hits with Bei Mir Bist Du Schön, Beer Barrel Polka, Beat Me Daddy (Eight to the Bar), Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree (with Anyone Else but Me), Rum and Coca-Cola, and of course their biggest hit, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Their style and energy are influential to this day, and can be seen generationally from the likes of Bette Midler, Christina Aguilera, and Sabrina Carpenter.

They were the most popular female vocal group of the first half of the 20th century. Some notable achievements, from wiki:

• 100 million records sold;
• 113 Billboard hits, including 46 top-10 hits;
• 17 Hollywood films;
• Record-breaking theater and cabaret runs across North America and Europe;
• Successful radio programs from the 30s to the 60s;
• Television show appearances through the 50s and 60s.

But then, there's the backstage drama.

Shortly after their parents died in '48 and '49, Patty decided to go solo but didn't tell Laverene or Maxene. Her motivation, while mourning her parents, may also have something to do with her husband leaving her for Doris Day.

Maxene, a closeted lesbian, also left her husband in 1949 to discreetly enter into a relationship with her business manager Lynda Wells.

Patty then sued Maxene for a greater portion of their parents' estate, which led to Maxene's suicide attempt. But not before Laverne and Maxene appeared on the Red Skeleton Show, performing a diss track - in 1954! - entitled "Why Do They Always Give The Solos to Patty?"

Oh no, you didn't!

Patty then sued everybody, including Skeleton, for that stunt.

They tried to make nice in 1956 with a new record but were up against Elvis and rock and roll. They tried to rock with their bobby socks out, but they were labeled last year's news and sent off on the big band/nostalgia circuit.

Then, peacemaker Laverne died in 1967 of cancer.

Maxene and Patty continued to perform separately after Laverne's death, appearing on sitcoms, game shows, concerts, and Broadway. Maxene tried to reconcile, but Patty kept her distance, even joking that the earthquake that occurred the morning they received their star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was the aftermath of a phone call she had had with her sister.

Maxene mourned the lack of relationship with her sister until she died in 1995. Patty did not attend the funeral.

The Fifth (and Sixth) Monkees, Boyce and Hart

That's some '60s groove baby

Who would The Monkees be without Boyce and Hart?

Individually, they are Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. Together, they were a singing/songwriting duo who first hit it big in 1964, writing the song "Lazy Elsie Molly" for Chubby Checker. They wrote a string of singles for the Ikettes, Jay and the Americans, Little Anthony and the Imperials, and Paul Revere and the Raiders.

Here's a tidbit for my mother-in-law: they are credited for writing the theme song for the soap opera Days of our Lives!

Don Kirshner brought them on board to produce and perform the pilot episode of the show, writing the theme song and "Last Train to Clarksville". Every original Monkees album (except for the Head soundtrack and 1996's Justus) includes a Boyce and Hart song.

On their own, Boyce and Hart had five hit singles, their biggest being "I Wonder What She's Doing Tonight". 

They went on to write for movies and television and made cameos in 70s sitcoms like The Partridge Family as struggling songwriters. According to the Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock & Roll, Boyce and Hart wrote over 300 songs and sold more than 42 million records as a partnership.

The duo worked together and separately throughout the years, notably reuniting and touring in the '80s after the Monkees revival. Hart was nominated for an Oscar for his work on the film Tender Mercies. Boyce taught songwriting in Nashville but struggled with his health and died in 1994. 

Typing Out Loud: Choices

What's right?

My heart is heavy for a childhood friend who lost his grandson to a seemingly random act of violence. And yet, my head is swimming with the story of the act that took his life - so many choices leading up to and in that moment where it didn't have to be this way. 

Playing with guns.

Drug deals. 

A teenager at someone else's house at 2am on a school night. 

Drinking. 

Cowardice.

Is it my privilege speaking, that I didn't have to make the decision in that moment? Am I looking at this from the perspective of having the luxury of better choices - I mean, the choice between a pillow and a rock is one thing, but what about a rock and a hard place? I don't really know, as I haven't been friends with him and his family for a long time. 

But I'm angry at the carelessness of it all.  

All I see of his mother's social media is a stream of anguish since he was shot, and his subsequent death. But her social media before was filled with worry and conflict. 

Sigh. 

The kid was 17, just over a year older than Will. 

I'm just sad. 

Project 3867: "Create a Spectacle" Special Events

Looks about right

I drive by 3867 West River so many times now that the vacant lot is just background noise. Last time I drove by the lot, it an interior hazard/vacant building sign in the window, so who knows what's next. But when I'm stuck at the light or at the train, I will throw a glance at it and wonder what else can happen there. 

This week, I recalled a college class assignment to brainstorm small business ideas. I came up with event planning, sparked by bombing my sister's car for her birthday: I had filled the interior with streamers and balloons, taped a banner to the windshield wishing her a happy birthday, and cued up the cassette player to play The Beatles' song Birthday once she started her car. It was a spectacle, and she loved it. 

So why not a small business focused on small, unique, special events? Small events allow more creativity, flexibility, and on-site negotiations. Surprise parties have a little more oomph when everyone is truly surprised. In my fantasy-filled head, I have countless insider connections from celebrities to florists to cut-rate deals on tents and bounce houses. It's PR-meets-advertising-meets-make-a-wish-meets-fantasy-island. 

In a hilarious call out, I'm binge-watching the sitcom The Middle, and Axl and his friends are actually doing this as a small business, first charging guys in their class to break up with girls before Valentine's Day, then doing prom-posals to surprise their girlfriends. It's a thing! 

Who knows... maybe one day I CAN negotiate a game of catch between Johnny Bench and Dave for his birthday. 

The Cereal Project: Free Stickers

I misread a marquee for a taco joint in Kalamazoo as Que Banana? and a fake band was born.

For my fake movie and my fake protagonist to promote my fake cereal, let's discuss why 'Gord' is a nickname for a girl. My childhood nickname was Mo, because my cousin Kevin couldn't say Melissa. Let's say Gord comes from her mispronunciation of "girl," when her grandpa would beckon her with an affectionate call of "little girl." That her dad's favorite hockey player was Gordie Howe is a nice coincidence. 

I've relied so heavily on her nickname in my imagination that I haven't thought about what her real name should be. I did love the name Gwendolyn as a kid. Gwendolyn Frye sounds regal and flows elegantly off the tongue, but also seems too heavy for a teenage girl, like she needs to grow into it; Gord is kind of tomboyish, a suit of armor. Typing this out helps shape in my mind who she is. 

Anyway, this month's project is about another freebie in the cereal box, stickers. I love stickers. The walls of our garage are covered in them, as well as my guitar case. 

Gord is in a garage band, and bands love to give away stickers to promote themselves. The stickers will be made up of the participating acts in the fictitious Battle of the Bands lineup!

lol, iykyk

One of my fictitious cover bands a couple of years ago.

Art school kids love being in prog rock bands. Maybe this one can be more bubblegum punk.

Gord and the girls.

My alter-ego open mic night persona - of course, I make a cameo in my fake movie. Already imagining an ironic, acoustic cover of The Knack's Good Girls Don't.

Lipstick on the Mic: The Runaways

How to always be badass

Cherie, Sandy, Lita, Jackie, Joan, Vicki, Micki - legendary band. Incredible talents at a very young age. Cherry Bomb is always on my playlist. Each individual has demonstrated through life exactly how to be badass. 

Cherie Currie - vocalist, writer, performer, woodcarving artist. 

Sandy West - drummer, bartender, colorful member, providing the steady heartbeat. RIP. 

Lita Ford - guitarist, vocalist, writer. Had some huge hits in the late 80s. I was particularly fond of her remake of Alice Cooper's Only Women Bleed. 

Jackie Fox - merit scholar at UCLA, JD at Harvard, went viral for her winning streak on the game show Jeopardy! 

Joan Jett - rock and roll hall of fame. She was everywhere in the 80s, from movies to TV to establishing her own music label when no one would release her records. Activist and riot grrrl. 

Vicki Blue - film producer, writer, director, and even got in on the joke and played Cindy in This is Spinal Tap. 

Micki Steele - bassist, writer, singer - left early in the band's career because she thought Kim Fowley was stupid. She was right. Went on to be a badass in The Bangles. Kept doing her own thing musically and retired to rescue animals. 

The Fifth Monkee, Vic Tayback

He's got tha' goods, boss!

Vic was a longtime character actor who, according to IMDb, debuted in 1958 in the TV show Buckskin. He played blue-collar roles throughout the 60s such as a miner, a guard, and a cop. This stretch included three stints on The Monkees playing different roles as Chuckie, Rocco, and George. 

In the 70s, it was his acclaimed role in the movie and television series as diner owner Mel that gave him his time in the spotlight. As the gruff but tenderhearted boss to the titled character Alice, Tayback earned Golden Globes and an Emmy nomination for his effort. 

Post-Alice, he acted in movies, commercials, TV, and voice-over work in cartoons, until his death from a heart attack at age 60 in 1990. 

Typing Out Loud: Finding My Way Back

Of course, I'm considering blue moon phases for the dress 

Oh, the season that wasn't. I had great ideas for new programs a year ago - recap of program ideas here - but mom stuff, new adventures in learning to be a chief referee, and a bum leg negated the constant inner nagging that I really needed to get my ass to the rink. 

What broke the spell? An impulse entry to compete at the Grand Rapids Open as a box of chocolates, which drove me to resume practice at least twice a week. Getting aggressive with the chiro about stretching that hip, which includes jamming my toe picks into the ice for a deep lunge stretch. It hurts, but it works. By sheer determination, I was able to choreograph a fun program to Savoy Truffle with the skill set I had. The good news is that what was hard to accomplish two weeks ago, I'm overskating now. 

Programs evolve!

But my love of the song Shame on the Moon has me dreaming of solo ice dance again. I had attempted to choreograph this last year on my trip to the Little House sites when I stopped in Springfield MO, to skate at the beautiful rink at the Jordan Valley FSC. I don't know what got in my way; it was a mess back then. 

Fast forward to this past Saturday. After two successful run-throughs of Savoy Truffle, I started to revisit the Moon program. I pulled up the music, and the ice dance pattern for the Hickory Hoedown was apparent straightaway, as was the spiral sequence for the long edge element. Since things change ALL THE TIME in skating, I pulled up the adult ice dance manual and noticed a jump was no longer a mandatory element, and if it had a toe assist, it was actually a deduction. Good to know! 

Yesterday, I pulled the music up and tried the dance pattern to open, and it fit perfectly. I tried the spiral sequence with the idea of doing a right forward outside to left back outside, creating a circle and symbolizing the moon, with the idea of then doing a circular footwork pattern to take the theme further. 

I didn't like it. 

I changed the spirals to RFO, and the mohawk push to RBO, so I cover the ice in a more serpentine pattern and start with straight-line footwork in the hockey crease. This unwinds me from working in a small, circular pattern. I already feel freer for having done this. 

I need to create straight-line footwork that matches the music, covers the ice, includes mohawks and three turns, and then a dance spin to finish. 

I'm up to the task. 

Earlier this week, I had a doctor's appointment where we talked about my activity. I flatly told him, "Yeah, I did the River Bank Run," then went into obsessive detail about skating, including the story of being the face of figure skating this past weekend. 

I think the rink is where I'm meant to be. 

This is What a Real Figure Skater Looks Like

Entirely by default, I was the face of figure skating heading into this week's State Games of Michigan as the only representative in the sport to attend the opening ceremonies. I got a Summer Games bracelet charm and got to walk the field past the cauldron to polite applause as the crowd waited for the 2,000 hockey players parading behind me, as our sports were arranged in alphabetical order. 

I felt like the lone Panamanian at the Winter Games. 

It was still fun, and hey - free bracelet.

Project 3867: Off Alpine

 

Beer beef stew? Yes, please!

Looking around at what is happening in downtown CP, maybe you embrace the dining culture that is being created and offer up your own twist on the experience. Even saying "off Alpine" creates a vision, and I'm inspired to find a niche and go Belgian - beer, food, decor. 

Menu: Beer beef stew was the first thing that popped up. For Belgian fries, the key is to fry them twice. Meatballs and noodles. Ham and potatoes au gratin. Waffles for dinner. Endive and apple salad. 

Offer a lounge experience with couches and soft chairs instead of hard bar stools. 

It's already feeling cozy. 

Give me a lambic and tell me I'm pretty

Maybe I just want a place where I can indulge in all the Lindemann's Lambics on tap without judgment.

Create a bar/pub crawl experience with neighbors at Mill Creek Tavern, Nick Fink's, and Vitale's. 

What’s Right in the World: Finding the Right Statement

Those sleeves!

I was invited by a friend to join him for Pridefest, but I I admitted I didn’t have anything to wear. 

So I hemmed.

I hawed.

I put no less than five shirts in my Amazon basket, then deleted them all. I didn’t want to be obnoxious, ambiguous, confrontational, or dismissive. I also didn’t want to wear black. 

(This is nothing new - if you recall from a previous post, I overthought an Ally shirt I found at the thrift, only to discover it didn’t fit.)

I gave it a day, and the topic came up again, and I browsed one more time.

Then I found it.

I loved the sleeves, and what’s better, if I clicked the coupon box, it would be 25% off with free shipping.

I squealed and hit the Buy Now button.

To thine own self be true - be it your choice of partner or hunting for a bargain. 

The Cereal Project: Free Song

Free Bobby Sherman record! 

He was another choice for the Fifth Monkee feature, RIP Frankie Catalino 

Cereal boxes in the 70s featured a flimsy, plastic 45 blown inside the box and secured with glue dots. In the 00s there was a code to download a song via Zune or iTunes. In theory, I can go retro in appearance, but the code will be a QR in the box to download the prize. 

But what's the song? 

Cam was a little emo, and I feel like his kid could be an angsty singer/songwriter, quietly trying things out.  Gord is anxious because her band, which she had only been goofing around with, surprised her by securing a slot in a "battle of the bands" competition on spring break, but they have to cut school early to get to Florida in time. She's also been filling notebooks with songs and poetry, and in a case of performance anxiety and impostor syndrome, she's terrified that her stuff may not be any good. The other conflict is that neither parent knew about this, and her mom is pushing college tours instead of spring break with her friends. 

Guess I need to write a song for this. It's gotta be catchy. I'm representing the state that brought Aretha, Eminem, and The Stooges. I want to lean into a genre I've discovered recently, bubblegum punk, a.k.a. trash pop. 

Free Song, by The Free Stickers 

You think you know, know the way,

But can't give me the time of day,

This love's too casual for you,

You're happy when I am feelin', feelin' blue.

You knew it all along, 

I bare it all in this song.

You mean it all, all to me,

But what I give you take for free.

The path for us it twists and turns,

Your cutting tone gives me the burns.

Why do I give you my heart, 

It feels over before it starts.

You knew it all along, 

I bare it all in this song.

You meant it all, all to me,

But what I give you take for free.

Your valentine ruins the day, all I do is sit and pray, what's in your heart I have no SAY!

[angry guitar solo, then drum intro back in]

I kind of knew all along,

As I sing, sing this song,

You were once it all, all for me,

But I finally broke, broke it free. 

Why Art Matters: Jim Miller-Melberg, Sculptures for Play

Tree Form, I mistakenly called it DNA swirls when I was a kid. 

Saddle Slide, I don't remember there being one of these at Cascades. 

Castle, we called them adobe huts. 

We took the long way to Chicago this weekend, hoping to catch a garage sale or two, find some roadside honey sellers. Driving through South Haven, I was startled by a call back to my childhood and made Dave turn around. 

There they were - the play sculptures of my youth. I had to learn more. 

An internet search for playground sculptures, I discovered the artist, Jim Miller-Melberg. A true Michigander, he was born in Detroit, went to Cranbrook, then Wayne State and the University of Michigan.  He founded a company, Form, Inc., and designed playgrounds nationwide. 

In addition to the designs above, his outdoor sculptures included benches, game tables, picnic tables, basketball hoops, water fountains, animals (dophins and turtles are favorites among us GenXers), play walls (also called Swiss cheese due to the holes), and, of course, the iconic moon house. Link to the catalog here. 

I posted the photos on Facebook, which brought friends out of the woodwork to share their love for the play sculptures. I also found a fan page devoted to finding where his playground pieces still exist, and I was able to add my find. Now I have a reference in case I want to rediscover the play wall or a moon house. 

Thank you, Jim, for a fantastic childhood memory.