McHuston Booksellers

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A long day. Really. Summer Solstice.

June 21, 2014 /

Too many years ago to count, I moved to Tulsa with a rock and roll band intent on playing the clubs. Yeah. That worked out.

There were some capital-G guitarists back then, but it was the leading edge of the change. Guitar-bangers like me got kicked to the curb in favor of folks that were taking lead guitar playing from a picka-picka style to something approaching virtuosity. We’d heard Plant and Clapton and Zappa. (Yeah. Frank Zappa. YouTube him. He WAS that good.) These guys were the exceptions.

Only, at some point – they weren’t anymore. Sure they had their experience and signature licks and people looked to them to imitate. One day everybody with a Strat woke up and could make their fingers fly and they just needed a singer to front their fretwork.

McHustonJun26_1

It’s the Summer Solstice. Longest day of the year. Maybe the hottest so far, too. There are plenty of folks gathered in the Rose District this evening, sampling food truck provisions and looking over the festival wares: tie-dye tees, craftwork, and jewelry. There’s an old Royal typewriter under a canopy with a tag. $40. A little steep, I think, for a non-starter.

But the guy up on the stage? Kicked off his set with a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner that mimicked Hendrix in a mighty-fine fashion, then – midway through it – drifted off into some other machinegun musical assault. I’m thinking right off the bat that the guy has picked up a guitar before this evening. Once or twice.

In fact, back in the days when I was doing a sideman bit for DeWayne (a gifted guitarist in his own right: RIP), this guy playing on a flatbed on Main Street could have been knocking them dead at the Fillmore. (You can Google that venue, you whippersnappers.)

It makes me wonder just how many excellent guitar pickers are huddled in their living rooms hacking away and doing it ten times better than all but the cream of the crop did it not so many years ago. (Okay. Okay. So, it was a good while ago. The point is, the state of guitar playing has evolved greatly from back then to now.)

Don’t know how the first Summer Solstice festival in the Rose District will measure up, but between the heat, the hot licks, and the hot dogs, a bunch of folks ought to leave happy when it’s all sung and done.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

These dreams.

April 4, 2014 /

Sure and you’re darn-tootin’ I did…

That wasn’t the answer give by the fellow being interviewed by the CBS reporter. The singer – getting questioned on TV for his several music award nominations – gave a measured response and was much more articulate. I was glad he didn’t humble himself for the camera.

The question put to him was: Did you ever in your Wildest Dreams think you’d find yourself in this position?

That interviewer-nugget is tossed out on camera way too often, and normally the response is an Aw-shucks-heck-no kind of reply. Why?

Success is rarely an accident. Admittedly, there are lottery beneficiaries – but most winners become that because of dreams.

Wild dreams are the foundations of plans. No apologies are needed for them. Dreams aren’t non-refundable tickets for distant destinations. You can book your course and change it.

Whenever you like.

You might leave your wildest dream for another and later abandon that for the original. Dreams are flexible that way. You can have a dream and realize it may not come to pass – for whatever reason – and continue to harbor it. Of my sleeping dreams, my favorites are the ones in which I can fly; it’s a soaring Superman-with-arms-at-the-sides flight. Talk about goofy fun.

They are exhilarating.

But even knowing those thrilling flights won’t ever happen, I enjoy the dreams all the same.

I’m thinking Danny Manning’s Wildest Dream did not include the head basketball coach’s job at the University of Tulsa. That’s a great job, as evidenced by the many coaches who have gone from there to larger schools, institutions with legacies of winning, and embarrassingly large coach’s paychecks.

That Mr. Manning has opted to leave for Wake Forest reflects on dreams in general, and how can it be wrong to move in that direction? A disappointment for the Golden Hurricane, but hopefully (except for how quickly it happened) not a surprise to anyone.

There was a time when the musician interviewed this morning was a young boy with a guitar in his hand and fingers aching from the practice. At some point, maybe in the back of his mind, there was a dream of performing. Do you think he was imagining standing on the smallest stage in the world?

No way. The dream needs to include a spotlight on the grandest stage, playing for the most important, appreciative audience on the planet.

Did you ever in your Wildest Dreams think you would be where you are today?

I hope not. Dreams ought to be dynamic, evolving, and enjoyed for what they are – wild or not.

That young baller in the picture has that dreamer’s determined look. (Apologies, Big-D, but I ran across the pic this morning and with the basketball it seemed fitting.) Perhaps Danny Manning might have turned down the Wake job if he’d only had this young point guard’s savvy in the lineup. Every boy and girl with a basketball in hand wants to make the winning shot. In today’s game. In the playoff. In the National Championship game.

We should never be humbled by the question.

If you reply, Never in my Wildest Dreams, then you aren’t dreaming wild enough.

Dream wild, my friends.

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK!

Not a Hot Streak, but it warms me anyway.

March 3, 2014 /

I believe this is the message my vehicle is trying to tell me:

Van (laboring in vain as I turn the key and the engine slowly grinds): Will. You. Just. Stop? If you were a robot, you’d be dead, too.

Single-digit temperatures and The Beast don’t get along. Mostly the van doesn’t move along when bitterly cold weather is at hand. Or at battery. Fortunately, I suspected as much and did not waste time scraping the ice off the passenger-side windows before cranking the engine over. (That’s an overly-optimistic description of what happened.)

Borrowed car later, I’m here at the shop – an island of warmth in the midst of a frosty, snowy wasteland.

Normally, by eleven-thirty in the morning, the parking spaces in front of the store are already filled. People getting an early-jump on lunch at the Main Street Tavern and the BruHouse Grill. Normally, I’m ready to serve lunch at this hour of the day as well, which adds a little to the lunchtime parking demand.

As you can see in the snapshots, there is no problem at all today. Plenty of wide-open spots in which to roll up, roll in, and grab something to eat. Except, you’ll have to opt for my neighbor’s tables for lunch today. I finally arrived just a few minutes ago and it’s a little late in the morning to start peeling carrots and potatoes.

So, I’ve taped a little notice to the front door that the Bistro kitchen is closed today, along with most of the schools in northeastern Oklahoma, and most of the businesses on my block here in the Rose District. (I didn’t put all that info on the little sign, just the Bistro part.)

When I was introduced to the five-degree temperature and that bitingly-crisp breeze, I wondered about the relative point in opening the store on such a day. Book emergencies are even more rare in this eReader day and age.

But I’m in my eighth year on Main Street, offering nicely-kept books to folks, at always-reasonable prices. And in all those days of turning on the lights and unlocking the front door, I’ve always sold a book. (Well – there was an afternoon during that blizzard several years back, when after several days trapped indoors I dug out the car and slid to the shop for two hours. Then locked up and slid back home. It was more an adventure in cabin fever relief than retail sales opportunities.)

The point of opening today?

It must have been for the young woman who breezed in (I felt the cold wind accompany her) and went directly to the parenting books. What to Expect when You’re Expecting. I had to stop my typing here to ring up her purchase. Maybe not a book emergency, but she did say, “I’m so glad you’re open” as she walked in front of the counter.

That makes me feel good.

That might be the only sale of the day – for all I know. But the seven-plus year streak is still alive and – more importantly – I was here and had the book she was looking for. That makes a bookseller feel all warm inside.

An important feeling on such a day as this.

When we get a weather break, I hope you’ll

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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