Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: McHuston Booksellers (Page 106 of 125)

The women and Jessie’s Girl.

Wow.

It’s something when just reading a headline can make your face turn hot from embarrassment. The article was on the Tulsa World website and reads:

Rick Springfield Sets Return Tulsa Trip

It could be that you’re in that group that has never heard of Rick Springfield. After all, it was about thirty years ago that he starred on the television soap opera General Hospital. In truth, he was a seasoned musician and fairly well known in his home country before he came to the US.

His song Jessie’s Girl hit #1 in 1981 at the same time he was playing the television role, and he found himself working TV scripts and touring concert arenas at the same time. I found myself in a concert arena in Tulsa sitting next to my wife, who was an avid General Hospital viewer and fan of Jessie’s Girl.

I had no idea what I was in for.

There had to have been plenty of other males there, but I sure felt like the only one. Maybe we were all shrinking back into seat cushion invisibility. On the other hand, the women all seemed to be leaping, shouting, and generally drawing attention to themselves. At least, that’s the way I remember it.

The song still gets played on occasion, but I haven’t heard it in some time. According to Jennifer Chancellor’s account in the World, the song enjoyed a revival in popularity when it was featured on Glee. I missed that one, too, but I’m happy for any 80’s-era rocker who can still sell tickets for casino performances and entertain crowds at age 63. Springfield played the River Spirit Event Center last year, probably boosted by the Glee promotion.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think Rick Springfield’s concert was horrible, necessarily. It was a matter of being in the midst of so many vocal fans and feeling out of place. There is sort of concert karma, though.

I got out of taking my daughter to the Backstreet Boys concert when they made a Tulsa appearance. I’m pretty sure I’d have felt a lot more out of place there.

In the meantime, any of you new or veteran Rick Springfield fans might enjoy his recently published memoir – Late, Late at Night – which came out in paperback last year and is ready for some reading, late, late at night.

Frosty pop.

A few ice crystals this morning took me back to my old schooldays. The frozen bits emerged after I opened a Diet Coke bottle that had been positioned too close to the freezer in the mini-fridge.

There was no ice before I unscrewed the cap – there is some sort of physics phenomenon that causes a liquid near freezing to suddenly turn to ice when air is introduced. Maybe you can look it up and explain it to me.

Back when I was a boy there was a soda machine at the Texaco station in McAlester, within walking distance of my house. The machine’s thermostat must have been set low enough that the same phenomenon occurred when my friend Craig and I would walk down for a bottle of pop and pried the cap loose.

It was a dime, back then. That sounds crazy to admit these days, and no doubt is proof of my geezer-hood.

“Yessir,” the old man wheezed. “I recky-member when a cold bottle of sody was only a dime. Yessir – ‘member it like it was yesterday! Hee-hee!”

Back then, on a hot summer evening as the sun was lowering itself behind the little mountain we called “Old Baldy,” drawing a mouthful of that deliciously cold drink was a taste of pure heaven. There was something about the ice crystals that bunched up at the neck of the bottle before they finally slid onto your tongue. There was something about being small enough to be comfortable sitting on the curb like it was a king’s throne and watching the last traces of the day disappear. There was something about having a good friend to enjoy it with, sitting there talking about nothing and everything. Important stuff that was so insignificant as to remember none of it.

But that bottle of pop with its cluster of ice crystals floating on top… That image and those moments are frozen forever in my memory – to be recalled only when that rare soft drink is chilled, just enough.

Cheers!

Fresh and tasty…

It must have been a case of the ‘hungries’ (as my Dad used to say) that made today’s batch of Irish Stew wind up as a photo. If it wasn’t so early in the morning, more than likely I’d be sampling a bowlful instead of writing about it.

Fresh russet potatoes, carrots, celery, roast beef, onions and spices – ready to ladle into a bowl and serve up with slices of bread.

Breakfast of champions. The Irish ones, anyway.

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