Posted by Mark David Manders
Tue, 31 Oct 2006 08:30:00 GMT
Have you ever found yourself taking a longer than usual time to get ready just because you have a special event to attend? I’m talking about going that extra mile to look good. You know, trimming your fingernails, ironing your jeans, etc; things you normally wouldn’t do when getting dressed for an average day. This is exactly what I found myself doing Sunday morning. But before I get into that I’d better back up a few days.
Now I realize that I haven’t been updating my “News from the Road” as frequently as I should. One reason is that we have been busy, really busy. I know; that excuse doesn’t hold a lot of water. Another reason is my camera has been broken for the last seven weeks. I won’t get into all the details, but if you ever buy a camera from Circuit City and the salesperson offers you the two-year extended warranty, tell them to stick it. FYI- Circuit City will NOT replace your camera on the spot if it is damaged or broken, I don’t care how much you pay for the accidental policy.
Anyway, I have a hard time writing my “News from the Road” without pictures to look at, so you imagine my frustration two weeks ago when Jim Slaton called and asked if I wanted to go to the Stones concert in Austin. The show was on Sunday, October 22nd, and there was no way I was going to miss it. I called Circuit City to inquire on the repair status of my camera; they referred me to Olympus, who neglected to return my call. That was on a Wednesday, I believe. I had no other option other than to cross my fingers and hope my camera was shipped to me before the 22nd. It never made it.
To make a long story short, the Stones put on a hell of a show, even covering a Waylon Jennings song during the performance. Afterwards Jim and I stopped by Antone’s to catch Blondie’s set. All in all it was an adventure-packed twenty-four hours with no pictures to remember it by.
I flew home early Monday on about two hours sleep and met up with the band. We then headed to Fort Worth to the Mira Vista Country Club to play for Tim Crabtree’s Alliance for Children benefit. During load-in I had a little accident involving a nine-foot, glass door and a monitor speaker. That’s a whole ‘nutha story. I’m still waiting on the verdict from both insurance companies, but whatever the outcome I’d like to apologize to Mira Vista for the extremely large pool of blood I left there at the scene.
After playing the benefit we all headed over to Tim’s house for our annual “after-party”. As usual, the party wound up at his neighbor’s, George’s house. We had intended to stay only for the first half of the Monday Night Football game but ended up leaving much later.
I woke up Tuesday morning to the sound of the UPS guy knocking at my door. I signed for my long-lost camera, explaining to the uninterested delivery man that he was day late.
I spent the rest of last week unsuccessfully trying to recuperate.
On Saturday night we played a show at Gilley’s so Kathryn got a babysitter and joined us. Blacktop Gypsy was playing a few blocks down at Poor David’s Pub and after the show we all went down to say “Hi” to Heather and the band. We ended up at Max Stalling’s house where we stayed until the late hours of the night. Kathryn and I got home around 3:00 in the morning (which by now was really 2:00 in the morning because of the time change), hoping the kids would let us sleep in the next day.
On Sunday morning, around 8:30, first the home phone rang followed immediately by my cell phone. Kathryn and I tried to ignore the calls but both numbers kept ringing one after another. Kathryn finally got up and checked messages. She came back into the bedroom and said, “I think you might want to listen to this.”
The message was from the Republican Party committee in Houston wanting to know if we’d be available to play a party the next day in Sugarland, Texas. I returned the call and found out that the event was a get-out-the-votes rally for Shelley Sekula-Gibbs, a write-in candidate running to replace the district seat vacated by former House Majority Leader, Tom DeLay. I asked who the keynote speaker was and the reply was none other than President George W. Bush.
Now I don’t care what your political persuasion may be, but if you are invited to play a gig for the most powerful man in the world, “no” is not a part of your vocabulary. I called and woke up the guys and told them the news. Everyone was available except Bret, who had already taken off work for the Terlingua Chili Cook Off this coming Friday. I made a few more calls and finally got a hold of Chris Lancaster in Paris, who agreed to drum for us. I then took a shower and began that ritual of “super grooming”.
We had to leave that very same night (Sunday) in order to unload our equipment at the venue so the Secret Service could inspect it. We left Dallas around 7:30 and arrived in Sugarland just before midnight. After checking into the hotel we met up with Kevin Lyndley, who was in charge of organizing the event. He rode with us over to the Sugarland Regional Airport where the rally was to be held.
Have you ever seen the movie, “Strange Encounters of the Third Kind”? That is exactly what the scene looked like as we pulled into the airplane hanger where the stage was set up. I had an eerie feeling as we unloaded our gear, knowing that there were untold numbers of snipers perched on hangar rooftops watching us through their crosshairs as we went about our business. Henry, the sound man, jokingly said to us, “Don’t be alarmed unless you notice a little, red dot on your chest.”
The stage was set up on the west side of the hangar with a bandstand for VIP’s located directly behind it against the wall. In front of the stage were two seating, or should I say standing areas, the closest for gold ticket holders with the cheaper, blue tickets in the rear. Forming a semicircle in between the gold and blue sections were three smaller band stands, one for the White House press core, one for news cameras, and the third for still photographers. On the ceiling above the stage hung a huge Texas flag and the walls of the hangar were dotted with several election posters. I have to say, it was quite an impressive set up.
Once our equipment was in place we returned to the hotel to rest up before the big day. Morning came early, and after a quick shower and a light breakfast, we loaded up and drove back to the airfield. We arrived a little after ten and, to my surprise, we had no difficulty proceeding past the security checkpoints to our destination.
A few volunteers were putting the final touches on the stage as we arrived. I noticed that someone had placed a large podium center stage during the night and I asked one of the volunteers if it was an “official” White House pedestal for the president. My question was referred to one of the plainclothes Secret Service agents who was installing bulletproof panels in front of the podium. He replied that, yes, it was an official White House prop; in fact, one of nineteen nicknamed “The Blue Goose” for the blue, velour cover that protected during transport. Grant and I wasted no time in getting our pictures taken at the podium. The agent didn’t seem to mind.
OK, so this was my first encounter with a Secret Service agent and there were to be several more throughout the day, but let me stop here and give a general observation of these men. I have always had an image in my mind of the Secret Service as a group of stern, rigid, emotionless men, kind of like the Buckingham Palace guards, who never spoke, just stood in the background observing the crowd through dark sunglasses.
Was I ever wrong. Most of the Secret Service agents on site, and there were countless numbers of them, didn’t even wear sunglasses. Sure there were a few in suits, but there were also uniformed agents and agents wearing casual clothes to blend in with the crowd. They were approachable, friendly, and courteous. Don’t get me wrong, these men are probably some of the most deadly law enforcement officers in the world, but they were human, very human, and I enjoyed talking to them.
At 11:45 AM we were instructed to leave the hangar for about an hour while the Secret Service did a “sweep” of the premises. (“Sweep” was one of the cool, new Secret Service terms I learned yesterday. It sounds so much hipper than inspection or shakedown.) We secured the trailer door and drove down the road to a little convenience store to get a snack and gas up.
When we returned there was already a large crowd gathered at the entrance to the airport. The gates didn’t open until 2:00, so we waited outside the metal detectors area for about an hour until Kevin came to lead us back to the stage. A few minutes later the crowd began to file into the hangar. What happened next seems like a blur.
The rally began with us doing a couple of songs to get everyone in the partying mood. Now this was not easy. First of all, this was a non-alcoholic function. Secondly, I was not allowed to sing any songs which mentioned alcohol. In fact, I was prohibited, not only from lyrics which mentioned alcohol, but from singing any songs that vaguely implied lying, cheating, drinking, or smoking, as well as any songs that might be deemed offensive or violent. So we started off the day with an instrumental, which we call the “Lafon Shuffle”.
After we played our two songs, the evocation was recited followed by the National Anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Texas Creed. Next up were speeches from a few Republican candidates running for office in the Houston area. One of these was, believe it or not, a man named “Jim Murphy”. I kid you not. I met Jim just before the rally started and I explained to him that I had a song called “Jim Murphy”. We both got a big laugh out of it and I promised to send him a copy of the CD when I got home.
During the speeches, Stan Chapman approached me and asked if the guys and I would like to relax on one of the White House staff busses parked just outside the hangar. I had met Stan the night before while loading in. He is another one of those guys that, when you first meet, you feel as though you have known him all your life. He would kill me for screwing this up, but I can’t remember what his exact title is. I know it has something to do with either the White House or the Republican Party and that “Protocol” is in the title.
Anyway, Stan led us outside to where the three White House staff busses were located and we made ourselves at home while waiting for our next curtain call. Once again, Grant and I took the opportunity to get a few snapshots.
At 3:09
PM (I’m telling you, they plan everything down to the minute.) we were led back to the stage and performed for about half an hour. It was quite a challenge for me to concentrate on my lyrics while singing. Actually it was a lot of fun. I’d start off in a song that the band knew contained alcohol in the lyrics, and then I’d change it up.
For example:
”I just dropped by to pick up my keys, and one more Bloody Mary please”
became
”I just dropped by to pick up my keys, and one more cup of coffee please”
and so on.
No one in the crowd knew what was going on, but we had a blast.
I’m not sure what the final numbers were, but the Secret Service told me that there were between 6200 and 6500 in attendance yesterday. If anyone is good at estimating a crowd, I would imagine they are. I didn’t know how I would feel playing in front of so many people who didn’t fit our normal audience demographics, but once on stage everything just felt right. Thirty minutes went by like three and we were done. We finished our last song, struck our gear, and exited stage left.
The next speaker was Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison. Now I had played a private party at Mrs. Hutchison’s house about three years ago, but I never thought she would remember me. But to my surprise the Senator Hutchison took the time to thank us during her speech. She said, “I would like to thank Mark David Manders and his band for taking the time to play for us this afternoon. Mark is an excellent Texas singer/songwriter and a strong Republican.” My jaw hit the floor.
Senator Hutchison then introduced Shelley Sekula-Gibbs. Shelley gave a short speech before turning the mic over to the emcee. Once again, my apologies for not remembering names or titles, but this guy’s last name was Yoakum. All I know about him is that he is a famous NASCAR announcer. Mr. Yoakum took the next fifteen minutes and whipped the crowd into a frenzy while the sound man played selected music in the background.
Then it was show time. Over the PA I heard a song which sounded like it ought to have been in a Star Wars soundtrack; it might have been. I don’t know. Then a helicopter appeared coming from the west side and landing one hundred feet from the entrance of the hangar. It was followed by another, then another, and yet, still another. They were big, green jumbo helicopters and they landed in a rectangular formation on the tarmac. Then Marine 2, a Blackhawk helicopter painted green and white, landed inside the rectangle a little east of center. Finally Marine 1, carrying the president, came into view. It touched down about fifty feet from the stage, right where our suburban was parked the night before.
The president stepped off Marine 1 and made his way to the podium while six thousand plus people went wild. OK, I do have one criticism here. It took Marine 1 a while to land and the president a while to get to the stage. In the meantime, the Star Wars sounding song ended. So what song does the sound guy play over the loudspeakers? “East Bound and Down”. Not only does that song seem in bad taste for introducing the President of the United States, but it mentions alcohol! Remember the lyrics:
”Folks are thirsty in Atlanta, and there’s beer in Texarkana, and we’ll get it there no matter what it takes…”
So anyway, President Bush took the stage and delivered a fiery speech. I know a lot of people make fun of George W. for his lack of rhetorical charisma, but I have to say that he looked at home there in Sugarland yesterday and he spoke very well.
I tried to get a few photos of the president from the White House press bandstand, but most of them came out blurry. I am not a great photographer. I did, however, make the acquaintance of a guy named Kevin from the Houston Chronicle, and he promised to send me some of his shots.
After the president finished his speech the music kicked on again. Mr. Bush made his way through the crowd of people in the gold ticket area, shook a few hands, and then boarded Marine 1 for the flight back to the air force base (I forget which one) where Air Force 1 was waiting to take him back to Washington or wherever he was heading next. As Marine 1 took off fireworks exploded in the distance. Within a few minutes the president was gone.
After the adrenalin finally wore off I realized that I had been on my feet for over eight hours. I decided to step outside the door on the north end of the hangar just behind the press bandstand to have a cigarette and relax for a while. As I sat down on a table outside I noticed a utility truck with a crane lifting a workman’s bucket to the roof of the hangar. I asked one of the agents if he was retrieving a sniper and he said, “Several.” I sat there and watched three snipers, one by one, as they loaded their rifles and climbed into the bucket for the ascent to the grass below.
Grant and the rest of the band appeared as the last sniper was leaving his perch. We sat and chatted with the Secret Service for another fifteen minutes before even thinking about fighting the traffic in the parking lot where our truck was located. One uniformed agent in particular, a guy named Kevin from the D.C. area, was very friendly. I said, “So when do you guys finally get a chance to relax?” He replied, “Wheels up.”, referring to the president’s departure. I smiled as I filed away another cool, new Secret Service term.
SIDE NOTE: While proofing this article I received a phone call from Stan Chapman. He informed me that his official title is, “State Department Protocol”. Sorry, Stan; I was kind of close.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Wed, 27 Sep 2006 08:30:00 GMT
At Home, 8:30 am
It has been quite a while since I have written.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down and reflected on anything. What can I say? It has been a crazy summer. Kathryn and I chose to keep the kids out of day care this year and it was my responsibility to entertain them when I wasn’t on the road. The result was one of the best summers I’ve ever had, three months spent in tank tops and flip flops, days at the community pool and evenings at the YMCA.
There is no greater joy than watching your kids grow up.
Fall is generally a very depressing time for me. As the weather turns cooler I look with dread upon the approaching winter, a time of cold and gloom.This year, however, I have not been affected as bad in years past thanks mainly to dove season and football.
Grant turned me on to a dove hunting spot about two miles north from my house, and now that the kids are older, shooting birds has become a family pastime. Kathryn even went out and bought a hunting license this week.
On the music front we slowed down a bit in September after a busy summer of gigging. It was nice to have a little time off before the October schedule kicks into full gear.
I have been working on some new material as well as auditioning drummers and fiddle players, so look for some new faces in the not to distant future. We have also been spending time in the studio arranging and recording songs. That’s right, it’s time to get another CD out and every spare moment I have is spent writing.
I’d like to go into more detail about all the shows we’ve played this summer and all the people we’ve met, but, to be honest with you, I don’t have the time and even if I did I wouldn’t remember half of the stories. I guess I’ll let the pictures do the talking for me.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Tue, 30 May 2006 11:45:00 GMT
My name is Peccho Baludo. I was born in Acuna, Mexico and gained entry into the United States under the North American Free Trade Agreement in 1994 posing as a truck driver. I have no green card and most of my time is spent running from the law.
My most recent employment was at Banita Creek Hall in Nacogdoches, Texas, where I worked sweeping floors and bussing tables. On April 19th, the I.N.S. raided the establishment and I was forced to hide in the equipment trailer of a band that was playing the hall that night. After spending two days locked inside the trailer without food or water I finally made my break when the band unloaded in Plano, Texas.
This is my story.
When the trailer door was unlocked I jumped out, much to the surprise of the band members, and took off running in the direction of a small creek. The creek was located a few hundred yards from the subdivision where the trailer was parked and appeared to offer the shelter I needed to recuperate.
My first night in the wilderness I survived eating berries and drinking the foul creek water. The next day I became emotionally distraught and tried to commit suicide by hanging myself from a cliff. Unfortunately the rope gave way and I tumbled thirty feet to the rocky creek bed below. Apparently a double granny knot will not support the weight of a piñata body. I suffered only minor injuries.
The following day I decided to make a shelter and began gathering tree branches and debris that had washed along the creek banks. As I was returning to my campsite I was accosted by two men with carbine rifles who either owned the land or worked for the owner of the property. Extremely unhappy with me for squatting on their land, the two men blindfolded me and shot me execution style.
The first bullet entered my body just above my chest and exited though my shoulder. The second shot missed me entirely. I fell to the ground and played possum, but that was not the end of the torture. The culprits propped me up against the rock cliff and drove a butter knife deep into my sternum, before leaving me for dead.
Fortunately, we piñatas are very resilient. I was able to remove the butter knife and crawl back to my half-finished shelter where I remained for the next three days, barely conscious.
Within a few weeks I was back on my feet and returned to the task of completing my temporary housing. The night after I finished the roof a torrential thunderstorm hit and threatened to do me in all together. (Piñatas do not fare well in water.) I made it through the night, but it was touch and go there for a while.
I guess it was a little over a month before I finally decided to venture from my creek hideout. The local supply of berries was running low and I had a strong craving for a Big Gulp. So I waited until dark one Friday evening and made my way to the 7-Eleven about one half mile from the creek.
As I entered the 7-Eleven I was greeted (repeatedly) by two ladies behind the counter. For a minute I thought they might blow my cover, and I considered running, but my thirst got the best of me. I poured an extra large Big Gulp, and just as I turned to approach the check out counter, I bumped into Miss Leslie, my former girlfriend of three years.
I hadn’t seen Miss Leslie since our terrible breakup at a truck stop just north of Waco, and I was taken totally off guard. She offered me a ride and I accepted. However, instead of dropping me off at the creek we proceeded to her house in McKinney where I received the biggest surprise of my life so far.
I was not prepared for the events which followed. Miss Leslie introduced me to Pecchito, a cute little piñata of two years old. She went on to say that I was his father and she had been raising him on her own since my disappearance. I was speechless.
I spent the next few days getting acquainted with Pecchito and trying to reconcile with Miss Leslie. Pecchito and I took long walks in the park, rode bikes, and played football in the front yard. I was in heaven but it didn’t last long.
Miss Leslie’s ex-boyfriend, Shawn, soon caught wind of the situation. In retaliation he called I.N.S. and informed them that Miss Leslie was harboring a fugitive.
Immigration raided Miss Leslie’s house the following day. I was in the back yard and managed to jump the fence and evade capture. The I.N.S. agents pursued me for several miles, but I finally lost them by jumping off a thirty foot cliff not far from the temporary shelter I had constructed.
Since my escape I have been forced to keep a low profile, venturing out only late at night and limiting my trips to the 7-Eleven to once a week. The I.N.S. has Miss Leslie’s house staked out and I am forced to communicate by pay phone only. Hopefully the law will grow tired of searching for me soon. Until then I remain a fugitive.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Mon, 24 Apr 2006 15:20:00 GMT
I have had a crazy schedule the last four days, some business and some pleasure. It started last Thursday when I left for Abilene to audition a fiddle player.
Business: band audition
Pleasure: driving down the road by myself
I left the house around noon to avoid traffic between Dallas and Fort Worth. The suburban had been making a strange noise for several months and Tony, my mechanic, told me a few weeks back that he thought the rear end was going out. I wasn’t sure if the truck would make it, so I spent most of the day with the radio off, listening to the ever-increasing whine coming from my drive train.
It was cloudy in the west and I knew I was going to hit rain, so around 2:00 I pulled over in Eastland to check my windshield wipers which didn’t work very well the night before. I found the problem – the driver’s side wiper was broken at the tip and there was nothing to keep the rubber blade from flying off once I turned them on.
Now I know I should have bought a new pair at the truck stop, but for some reason I decided to tape the rubber piece to the wiper arm using electrical tape. Bad idea. Once I got back on the road the rain started and I hit the wipers switch. The only parts of the blade that even touched my windshield were the two areas where the tape held the blade, one on top and one on the bottom. The entire middle of my windshield was left untouched. It was raining hard and I didn’t feel like stopping again so I ended up driving blind the rest of the way to Abilene. It really wasn’t too bad, except when I got behind a semi. Then it was pretty much a guessing game as to where my lane was.
I made it to Abilene around 4:00 and hooked up with Eddy. We ran through quite a bit of material and I think it was close to 9:00 before I left to find a hotel.
Business: hotel accommodations
Pleasure: invitation to a Texas Hold ‘Em game in the lobby
I was a little hungry as I entered the Holiday Inn Express to register. As I walked into the lobby I smelled the unmistakable aroma of barbecued ribs coming from the party room across the hall from the desk. I poked my head in and asked the six or seven men seated at the table if they had cooked the ribs. They said yes and asked me if I’d like to sample a few. I didn’t hesitate.
Apparently these guys worked for a road construction company and were staying at the hotel for a few weeks. I noticed they had a deck of cards and I asked what they were playing. They replied “Hold ‘em, you want in?” They noticed I had a couple of six packs so I broke out the beer and sat down for some poker.
It was only a ten dollar buy-in, but I somehow managed to lose thirty bucks. I didn’t care; it was nice to have the company.
I went to my room a little after midnight and watched TV until I fell asleep. When I’m in a hotel I love to fall asleep with the television on in the background. For some reason I didn’t sleep very well that night and I woke up feeling run down the next day. The good news is the weather Friday morning was sunny and warm. All I had to do was worry about the suburban’s rear end making it home.
Business: meeting with Danny from Coors Beer
Pleasure: an unexpected gift
It was a nerve-racking drive from Abilene to Fort Worth, but I made it in one piece. I had an early afternoon meeting with Danny Anfin, the Fort Worth Coors distributor, and I rolled, or should I say limped, into town just before noon. Danny had made me some new bumper stickers and wanted me to check out some koozie designs he had been working on.
After our meeting he asked what my plans were for the weekend. I told him I was off both days, but I had plenty to do around the house. He said, “Do you need any beer for the weekend?” Once again, I didn’t hesitate.
I pulled my truck around back to the loading docks where Danny was waiting. I figured he’d throw a few cases of Keystone my way. You can imagine my surprise when a forklift showed up carrying fifteen cases. I thanked him profusely and we loaded up the suburban.
Business: home life responsibilities
Pleasure: just being home
I made it home around 2:30 Friday afternoon, checked my e-mails, and then walked up to the school to pick up the kids. Jessica went home with her friend, Sophie, and the boys invited their friend, Nathan, to our house.
NOTE: In the last two years I have become acquainted with several housewife customs involving kids. One practice in particular I like to call “the kid swapâ€. I have always wondered how stay-at-home mothers make it through the day once their children get out of school. I have three kids and there are times when I come close to pulling my hair out. The answer is the kid-swap. It works like this – “I’ll take your kids today and tomorrow they can play at your house.” If you’re lucky you can sometimes end up with a day where you don’t have anyone else in the house.
The flipside is not that bad either. When left with just their siblings, brothers and sisters will fight like hens. However, invite a few friends over and everybody gets along like peas and carrots. I have had as many as six children at our house at once and it was much easier than trying to baby sit just my three.
OK, so the boys and I walked home from school and I immediately put them to work stacking beer. I know it probably wasn’t the best thing to have them do, but it did expedite my unloading. I’m sure Nathan went home that evening and said, “Gee, Mom and Dad, Mr. Manders sure has a lot of beer in his garage.â€
Kathryn came home from work a little later and I thought we were going to spend a quiet evening relaxing and watching TV. I was wrong. I guess you’d have to know my neighbors to understand completely, but once they heard I had scored a bunch of Keystone, they descended on our house like flies. (Not really, but neighbors from three different houses did end up stopping by for a beer Friday night.)
Business: early morning father duties
Pleasure: baseball
The boys had an 8:00 baseball game on Saturday and I knew if I didn’t get a good night’s sleep I’d be worthless. So around 10:00 I took a Wallgreens nighttime aspirin and I was out within fifteen minutes.
Now I am not a morning person. I don’t care if I get twelve hours of sleep; 6:00 am is still 6:00 am, and I don’t function that early. I did manage, however, to get the boys and Jessica to the baseball diamond by 7:30. I couldn’t believe it: we were the first ones there.
The game was great. Justin, James, and their buddy, Nathan, each batted three times and each got three base hits. Nathan’s dad, after the game, started calling them the triplets. The game ended in a tie, but I was still proud of my boys and Nathan for batting like champs. Nathan came home with us after the game and I treated everyone to a Slurpee.
Business: putting out fires
Pleasure: none
Here’s where the downhill, out-of-control slide began. I had Ronnie Yandell, a drummer from Fort Davis, coming in on Saturday to audition with the band. I was under the impression that he would arrive some time in the afternoon and that we would rehearse later in the evening. I got back from the baseball game around 9:30 and as soon as I walked in the door my cell phone rang. It was Ronnie saying that he was on Central Expressway in Plano and heading in my direction. I picked up the home phone to call Grant and inform him of the schedule change but I had no service. Apparently the lines had been cut the day before while SBC was working in our alley.
I then called Grant on my cell phone and he said he’d be over in about an hour. Kathryn had class Saturday, so I was left alone with four kids, soon to be joined by a drummer and his significant other. Then two of Jessica’s friends from the corner showed up. They were followed by three boys from the next street over. For some reason they all wanted to play at our house. All said and done, by the time Ronnie arrived there were ten kids running around the front yard.
Ronnie showed up shortly after his phone call and I helped him unload his cymbals and stands. His friend, Elaine, wasn’t feeling very well, so she stayed in the living room and watched TV. I felt bad because she had just gotten over the stomach virus Grant and I had back at the beginning of the month and she was feeling weak. The last thing she needed was to get thrown head-first into the chaos that was swirling around my house.
I had promised Kathryn the night before that I would keep the house clean while she was at school, so I decided to lock the front and back doors. I told the kids that no one was allowed in the house unless they needed to use the restroom. The only other door was to the garage and I thought I would be able to police that entry. They still managed to get by me on several occasions and I spent the better part of the next hour chasing children out of the house.
By this time Grant had pulled up on his Harley. He could tell that I was reaching the end of my rope. Ronnie had finished setting up his hardware and I was still trying to run the wires for the PA system. I had just begun to test the system when Jessica appeared saying that all the kids were hungry.
In the meantime, I still hadn’t heard from Lafon, whom I had called several times earlier that morning. I knew something must have been wrong because he is always good about returning calls.
I introduced Grant to Ronnie, apologized to Ronnie for the craziness, and then got in my truck and drove to Cici’s pizza and bought lunch for the crowd of kids in the front yard. When I returned Lafon called and told me that his grandfather had passed away the night before. I said I was sorry and told him that we would continue the audition without him, but he said it might do him some good to get away and that he’d be over in half an hour.
A few minutes later James came running out of the house to inform me that the faucet in the kitchen had broken. I was working on the faucet when the phone rang. It was Kathryn. She asked me how it was going and I just laughed, not a funny laugh, but the laugh of a man on the verge of a breakdown. She said she’d be home around 6:00 and I replied that it might be too late.
Lafon showed up about twenty minutes later. The kids had by then finished eating and were beginning to congregate in the garage. I tried telling them that we were just rehearsing and that they should go out front and play, but they were bound and determined to see a show. Nathan’s dad came by a few minutes later to pick up Nathan. I think he could tell that I was loosing it too.
I can’t remember what time we finally got around to the audition. In fact, from the time Lafon showed up until Kathryn got home from school is a blur. I think my mind finally kicked into self-preservation mode and I just flew on autopilot.
Ronnie, Lafon, and I ran through about thirty songs Saturday afternoon before calling it quits. Mac and David, the Cajun neighbors, dropped by close to the end of the audition to remind me of the crawfish boil we had planned for Sunday and to discuss the final preparations. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation it was decided that we would all get together and play poker that evening. (I think it was because they knew I still had all that Keystone in the fridge.) Chad, my neighbor from the end of the street, came by afterwards and offered Ronnie and Elaine a complementary room at the Intercontinental Hotel where he works. They accepted and drove to Addison to check in.
Business: relaxation
Pleasure: poker with friends
By 7:00 the neighborhood kids had thinned out and I was beginning to return to normal. James and Justin were invited to spend the night at a friend’s house and, once again, I didn’t hesitate. Five minutes later Jessica asked if she could sleep at her friend’s house across the street. I don’t have to tell you my answer.
By 9:00 our regular poker group had assembled in my garage. By now I was well into the Keystone and breathing at regular intervals. Ronnie called and said that they wouldn’t be able to make the game. The Intercontinental is a four star hotel and they wanted to enjoy a full night there. I told him I understood, hung up the phone, and turned my attention to the Texas Hold ‘Em game.
We really did have a good time Saturday night. There’s nothing I enjoy better than when all our close neighbors get together and play poker. I never win, but I have a damn good time trying.
I haven’t even touched on what transpired yesterday. I’ll write about that tomorrow.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Mon, 20 Mar 2006 09:30:00 GMT
Yesterday was a lazy, stay inside, cold, dreary, rainy day. It started raining in Dallas Friday afternoon and didn’t quit until this morning. Dallas received somewhere between nine and twelve inches of precipitation and several areas experienced flooding. I’m not complaining though; if any place ever needed rain it was Texas. We have been in a drought since last summer and, until the rains hit, we had seen more than our fair share of wildfires across the state due to the extremely dry conditions.
Saturday night we had a blast at Hank’s in McKinney. The loading in and out in the rain wasn’t very pleasant, but the show itself was great. We had a packed house and everyone in attendance was there to have fun. There were plenty of people dancing in front of the stage, and at one point on the tables, until the manager made them get down. The inclement weather had absolutely no effect on the crowd and that night we played well beyond closing time.
The only disappointment of the night was that Nick never showed up. Apparently his buddies drug him out to several bars in the Los Colinas area of Dallas, some thirty miles from McKinney, and they refused to give him a ride to Hank’s. Either that or Nick tied one on. He did look pretty road-worn when I saw him earlier that day and I wouldn’t be surprised if he just ran out of energy.
Slaton, however, did show. He had driven up from Austin that afternoon and got a room at the Holiday Inn across the parking lot from Hank’s. A lot of my neighbors (the ones who like me) also came out, as well as a lot of people I hadn’t seen in quite some time from the North Dallas area. Even the Commerce crowd was well represented Saturday night, making the hour-long drive in the heavy rains to come and see us.
Kathryn and I got home a little after two and went straight to bed. With no kids in the house we actually got to sleep in late yesterday. We had a large breakfast in the morning and then started planning our Sunday evening meal. Kathryn wanted my spicy shrimp and pasta, so I went to Kroger’s and bought all the ingredients.
I called my mom around noon to see about picking up the kids, but she said the flooding in her neighborhood was so bad that we would have to wait. Sometime around 4:00 there was a slight break in the weather and I drove to our meeting place off the toll way and picked up the triplets. I got back to the house an hour later and ate a fantastic shrimp dinner while Kathryn fed the kids ravioli.
After dinner I went to the YMCA and worked out. When I got home I helped Kathryn get the kids in bed and then made my way to my own bed. I read for a few hours before falling asleep.
Today it’s back to business as usual, working on booking and taking care of the day to day band stuff. The rain has finally stopped and I heard it is supposed to get up to around seventy this afternoon. Tomorrow another cold front is moving in and they say the rest of the week will be cold again.
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