The Rise And Fall Of The Edward Hannon Band
John and me with the man responsible for teaching us a few chords.
The applause was explosive, a prolonged cacophony of shrieks and howls that reverberated throughout our small gymnasium. As teachers attempted to restore order amid bellowing calls for an encore, John and I sat on the stage and regarded the chaos we had created. We had expected to go over well, but never did we anticipate the wave of adoration that washed over us. It was all coming from the end of the bleachers along the north wall, where our eighth grade classmates were sitting. The rest of the student body craned their necks and looked back and forth in silent confusion.
We called ourselves The Edward Hannon Band as a tongue-in-cheek homage to our social studies teacher, a transplanted Pennsylvanian whose ample moustache and east coast colloquialisms were amusing to us. Plus, naming a band after someone who isn't actually in the band is ironically hip when you're thirteen. Mr. Hannon tolerated our tribute with good humor, though the quirky adoption of his name was not the key to our success. Rather, we won the approval of our peers by penning a folksy lament that pushed all the right buttons.
Lost And Found
Senator Robert Byrd pauses during his humbling speech as Benjamin Hooks looks on.
Yesterday's death of Benjamin Hooks left me contemplating my brief encounter with the accomplished civil rights leader nearly four years ago. He had been invited to speak at ceremonies commemorating the 100th anniversary of the meeting of the Niagara Movement at Harpers Ferry in 1906. I was there doing research on an historical novel while attending a weeklong educator's conference on the Niagara Movement and the legacy of controversial abolitionist John Brown.
Conceived as a means to secure civil equality for disenfranchised African Americans following the failure of Reconstruction, the very first meeting of the Niagara Movement was scheduled to be held in Buffalo, New York in 1905. When Buffalo hoteliers saw organizer W.E.B. DuBois and other black attendees, they refused to offer accommodations, forcing the group to reconvene across the Canadian border. Harpers Ferry, site of John Brown's raid in 1859, was chosen as the location of the 1906 gathering. Within three years, the Niagara Movement evolved into the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Dr. Hooks, among many other achievements, served as Executive Director of the NAACP from 1977 to 1992.
Circus Peanut Paradox
Fear not, my peanut-sensitive friends, for these faux goobers are but textured marshmallows.
I grew up ingesting just about any variety of candy I encountered. With a preference for chocolate and a fond appreciation of sugary sweetness, there was little that did not meet my approval. I consumed more than my fair share of all the venerable brands, proven classics like Hershey bars, M&M's, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Nestle Crunch, Butterfinger, Baby Ruth, and that great American add-an-ingredient trio of Three Musketeers, Milky Way, and Snickers. I indulged in Marathon bars and mint chocolate Royals, candy that would charm a generation before mysteriously disappearing forever. And I was a sucker for novelty, accumulating plenty of those plastic coffins containing interlocking bone candy and once savoring a wedge of waffle-shaped gum that came with its own packet of maple syrup.
There was an entirely different class of candy that I ate as well, and it included all of the time-honored confections that had been enjoyed by so many generations that they transcended the names of their many manufacturers. Lemon drops, root beer barrels, cinnamon imperials (commonly branded as Red Hots), licorice, hard candy sticks, wax bottles filled with colored liquid, French burnt peanuts, Boston baked beans - I ate them all and loved it. But then there were circus peanuts, the oversize orange marshmallows with rows of indentations suggesting the texture of a peanut shell. With them my palate encountered a rare displeasure. In fact, I was outright disgusted by them, so much so that seriously contemplating a bag of circus peanuts could trigger a gag reflex. The rest of the candy universe was tolerable, but these were not. Why?
Come Inside, The Show’s About To Start…
...guaranteed to blow your head apart...rest assured you'll get your money's worth...
Last night's Lakewood, Ohio concert by Keith Emerson and Greg Lake was the stuff of dreams. I should know, for as a longtime fan of Emerson, Lake and Palmer, the prog-rock trio has literally appeared in my somnambulistic scenarios no less than three times. In one ridiculous dream from years ago, they arrived at my house for the purpose of playing a game of Scrabble on my deluxe, $500, Franklin Mint Collector's Edition board. In another, I sat on a gym floor and watched them perform to hardly anyone from mere feet away. More recently, I dreamt that I stumbled across ELP playing an outdoor set in a park, and I simply ambled up to the front of the stage. I suppose hours and hours of listening to Brain Salad Surgery and Tarkus will do that to the sleeping mind.
So when I heard that two-thirds of my favorite band were due to appear in a high school auditorium near Cleveland to kick off an unprecedented series of intimate, semi-unplugged shows, I was intrigued. It sounded like something I would dream. I checked the date and was surprised to find that it coincided with the very beginning of my Spring Break; I could conceivably head up north after school and catch the show. Then, when I got in on a fan club presale and purchased a single ticket, I was definitely excited. I would be sitting in the middle of the first row. Like my actual ELP dreams, this reality was strange, wonderful, and maybe too good to be true.
Cheap Thrills
Bring back these two wonderfully corny attractions, and I'll make a beeline for Sandusky.
Amusement park season is arriving soon in Ohio, and I am less than excited. The perennial allure of Cedar Point and Kings Island, which bookend our stoically Midwestern state to the north and south like a pair of Mad magazines bracketing a law library, will surely attract the usual stream of thrill seekers and families in search of a summer diversion. Local media will carry the customary publicity puffery touting the heights and speeds of each park's marquee roller coasters, and we shall be further enticed by breathless promises of all that is NEW for 2010! I don't begrudge anyone the pleasure of giddy anticipation, but I cannot muster much enthusiasm.
It wasn't always this way. There was a time when I looked forward to a day at either of our big amusement parks with the same measure of excitement that was provoked by the imminence of my birthday or the arrival of Christmas. Actually, now that I think about it, that remains the case today, as I no longer get worked up about my birthday or Christmas. But there was a time - and I'm sure you can accurately identify it - when all three of these events represented the pinnacle of fun and enjoyment.