Over the last month or so, Kimberly and I have found that Cohen loves to have about 3-5 minutes of "naked time" before his bath. I drop the diaper, and he shoots off through the house like a rocket. This has gone on without incident for about a month.
Last night, however, after about 3 fast-paced laps around his room, he ran over to his wagon (which houses his assortment of balls). He pulled a little basketball out of the bucket, and as I looked over to him, he looked back at me with a look of fear on his face. He was peeing. He stopped, took two steps back, and just kept on peeing some more. My initial reaction was "Oh no!". Almost immediately after that, I chuckled, told him it was okay, and alerted Kimberly of the situation.
I don't know if it was my initial "Oh no", or the fact that he probably has never actually seen himself pee, but he was horrified by the whole situation. He screamed and cried and carried on, and it took about 5 minutes to calm him down before we could brush his teeth and actually get him into the bath.
It's a nice little story to hold on to for when he is a teenager and has friends over.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Who would've thought?
I've been what you'd call a "big guy" for about 20 years. I was a stick-thin kid until around 5th or 6th grade, then I just added a little weight here and there, never really taking any off. I don't think I ever actually got to the 300 mark that I know of, but when I went to the doctor 4 months after my 30th birthday, I weighed in at around 290.
It only slightly bothered me. I've always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I never really killed myself about my weight. It didn't depress me. As far as I was concerned, I had a lot of other qualities that I liked about myself just fine, so I didn't let the weight get me down. Sure, I didn't necessarily enjoy being the fat guy, but all in all, I have a pretty sweet life, so who am I to complain? Over the past six years, Kimberly would make me go out and walk with her occasionally (I mean occasionally, like 2-3 times a year). It would be torture. I didn't want to do it, and I was miserable the whole time.
About a month ago, something just kind of clicked. I dont' know what it was. It was a Sunday morning, and Kimberly had "dragged me" out to the park under the guise of "We'll walk a little bit, then let Cohen play on the playground". Well, far be it from me to deny Cohen his precious swing time. I reluctantly agreed.
About 3/4 of the way through the 3 mile walk was when I noticed it...Hey, this is kind of killing me....but I kind of don't mind it. I think I could do this more often. I mentioned to Kimberly that I think I could be down for doing this at least once if not twice a week, and she was ecstatic.
Meanwhile, my buddy Nate had taken up biking. Actually, quite a few of my friends had cioncidentally taken up biking all around the same time. I had tried it a few years back, but I didn't really enjoy it all that much, so my bike had been collecting dust (more specifically, pollen and spiders) for about 6 years. I was content to keep walking with Kimberly.
A couple of weeks went by, and I was enjoying (well, not hating) the walking. Our jogging stroller has an iPod dock, so we would listen to a little inspirational music (BuckCherry, Squad Five-O, The Darkness) and do it a couple of times a week. At the end, I'd be drenched in sweat, but I felt good about it nonetheless. I couldn't help but think, though...if I did this on my bike, I could cover a lot more ground and do it faster.
One Saturday afternoon, hockey was cancelled because of rain that never actually came, so I had my chance. I pulled the bike off the wall, washed it off (with a hose from a distance....you know...the spiders), pumped up the tires and threw it in the back of my car. Off to Tribble Mill park I went.
Holy crap it was miserable.
I did the same 3 mile path Kimberly and I walk. It is pretty hilly. Some people don't mind the hills because - you know - every hill you go up, you also get to go down. I'm not one of those people. I finished the trail in about 22 minutes (it takes us about 40-45 to walk), and when I dismounted the bike, I almost fell down because my legs were absolutely killing me. Kimberly and I went the next morning and walked that same trail again, and I told her that I may not be able to keep up because my legs were so sore from the previous day's ride. As it turns out, I was able to keep up. I realized that while I was pretty sore, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I expected it to. I decided to go try it again on the bike the next chance I got.
That chance was the following Saturday afternoon. Once again, I loaded up the bike and headed out to the park. This time I finished in around 15 minutes. My legs still hurt, but it was slightly more bearable this time. I was actually getting a little excited about the prospect of riding more often.
My friend Nate is quite up to speed on all the local parks and trails, and he knows all the best places to ride. He mentioned the Ivy Creek Greenway, which is less than a half mile from where I work. I decided to go ride it Tuesday after work. It was pretty good...being the seasoned rider I was (you know...two 3 mile rides under my belt), I was able to knock it out pretty quick. I went home having ridden about 4 miles feeling pretty satisfied with myself.
Two days later, on Thursday, I went to the same trail after work. I went about 5 and a half miles that day. Other than heading straight from there to band practice, only to get laughed at for being soaked with sweat, it was a pretty good experience. Every time I rode, I covered just a little more ground than the previous time, and I was feeling pretty good about it.
I hadn't planned on riding Friday. Kimberly and I had an end-of-the-year teacher party to attend that night, so timing was going to be a little tight. I started out the door to head home, and I just couldn't do it...I had to do at least something. I went with Nate over to Rock Springs park and put in a quick three miles before heading home.
All in all, I was drastically improving every time I rode. This past Saturday, in a twist of fate, my entire day's schedule opened up at the last minute. Jackpot! I decided to test out my endurance and see how much I could do. I headed out to the Suwanee Creek Greenway. Where I parked was right in the middle of the trail, with about 2.5 miles on either side. I started left. I rode the 2.5 miles to the end and back....okay, that's 5 miles. When I got back, I decided to go right. I went about a mile going that way and came back. This brings my total to 7 miles. As usual, I was pretty sore and pretty tired, but I felt good about it. I thought to myself, I'll head toward home and stop at Rock Springs park. Maybe I'll do 3 miles there to bring it to an even ten for the day.
Rock Springs park has a 1/3 mile track, so it's easy to ride in increments, knowing exactly how far you've gone. I finished the first mile. Then I finished the second mile. Right around the time I was wrapping up the third mile, I thought, I think I can do a little more. So I just kept going around the track. 4 miles. 5 miles. I just kept going. By the time I stopped, I had ridden 7 miles on the track. This brought my total to 14 miles. In one day. This may not mean a lot to you, or to someone who rides regularly, but it's absolutely huge for me. I can't remember the last time I felt so good about something I had accomplished!
Sunday, after doing some around-the-house stuff we needed to knock out, Kimberly and I took Cohen to the park and walked again. It felt great. Despite having ridden 14 miles the previous day, my legs could not only handle the brisk walk but also the occasional bursts of jogging up hills. Can this actually be happening? Am I exercising? Am I making progress?
I had decided not to ride on Sunday. After getting back from the park, we jumped in the pool for a while. My plan was to climb out of the pool and watch the Braves game a little after 1:00. By 1:45, I could stand it...I had to go back to the park and ride some more. Rock Springs it was. After 9 laps around the track (3 miles), I decided to call it a day. I got back in the car and made it almost to the park gate before turning back around. I knew I had more in me than that. I went back to the track and strapped on my skates (the inlines I use for hockey). I had no idea what to expect. Maybe I'd do a lap or two and see how it went. I had finally had my fill after 6 laps. That was 3 miles on a bike and 2 miles on skates.
I couldn't believe how good I was feeling about all this! I went to bed Sunday night excited about my upcoming ride today after work. I planned on going back to Rock Springs (my new favorite place) and log about 7 more miles or so. The thought had crossed my mind that I could maybe do it before work, since I didn't have to take Cohen to Snellville this morning. However, in my old age lately, fully waking up has been harder and harder every day.
When I woke up this morning, I was just as groggy as I usually am. As Kimberly left for work, I decided that I should just go out and try it. Worst-case-scenario, if I didn't like it, I'd just go back after work, as was my original plan anyway. I pulled into the park, still rubbing my eyes and trying to fully wake myself up. Despite my muddled head, I climbed on my bike, put the iPod on GNR's Appetite for Destruction, and started pedaling. By the end of mile 1, my eyes were wide, my vision was clear, and I was fully awake. My legs hurt, but that hadn't stopped me yet, so I wasn't going to let it get to me today, either.
45 minutes later I was at the shop, changing out of my sweat-drenched clothes and cleaning up for work, having ridden 7 miles.
Just in case you haven't caught the theme here...I feel great! The fact that I would be exercising in and of itself is almost foreign to me, but the fact that I'm exercising and enjoying it...well, that's just ridiculous! I really think I'm starting to become addicted to riding my bike. Even having done the 7 miles this morning, I can't wait until work is over, so I can to at least seven more before I go home. Maybe I'll do ten, just to top Saturday!
I have no idea how much weight, if any, I have lost. Though I haven't changed my diet drastically, I have started eating more sensible portions. Also, I have cut out about 90 percent of my soda intake and replaced it with water. Instead of grabbing a handful of chips before going to bed, I have been drinking a glass of V8 splash (you know...the juice that has a complete serving of fruits and vegetables in each glass).
Point of it all is that it only took two weeks to get comfortable with a signifantly more active lifestyle.
I'm pretty happy about it.
It only slightly bothered me. I've always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I never really killed myself about my weight. It didn't depress me. As far as I was concerned, I had a lot of other qualities that I liked about myself just fine, so I didn't let the weight get me down. Sure, I didn't necessarily enjoy being the fat guy, but all in all, I have a pretty sweet life, so who am I to complain? Over the past six years, Kimberly would make me go out and walk with her occasionally (I mean occasionally, like 2-3 times a year). It would be torture. I didn't want to do it, and I was miserable the whole time.
About a month ago, something just kind of clicked. I dont' know what it was. It was a Sunday morning, and Kimberly had "dragged me" out to the park under the guise of "We'll walk a little bit, then let Cohen play on the playground". Well, far be it from me to deny Cohen his precious swing time. I reluctantly agreed.
About 3/4 of the way through the 3 mile walk was when I noticed it...Hey, this is kind of killing me....but I kind of don't mind it. I think I could do this more often. I mentioned to Kimberly that I think I could be down for doing this at least once if not twice a week, and she was ecstatic.
Meanwhile, my buddy Nate had taken up biking. Actually, quite a few of my friends had cioncidentally taken up biking all around the same time. I had tried it a few years back, but I didn't really enjoy it all that much, so my bike had been collecting dust (more specifically, pollen and spiders) for about 6 years. I was content to keep walking with Kimberly.
A couple of weeks went by, and I was enjoying (well, not hating) the walking. Our jogging stroller has an iPod dock, so we would listen to a little inspirational music (BuckCherry, Squad Five-O, The Darkness) and do it a couple of times a week. At the end, I'd be drenched in sweat, but I felt good about it nonetheless. I couldn't help but think, though...if I did this on my bike, I could cover a lot more ground and do it faster.
One Saturday afternoon, hockey was cancelled because of rain that never actually came, so I had my chance. I pulled the bike off the wall, washed it off (with a hose from a distance....you know...the spiders), pumped up the tires and threw it in the back of my car. Off to Tribble Mill park I went.
Holy crap it was miserable.
I did the same 3 mile path Kimberly and I walk. It is pretty hilly. Some people don't mind the hills because - you know - every hill you go up, you also get to go down. I'm not one of those people. I finished the trail in about 22 minutes (it takes us about 40-45 to walk), and when I dismounted the bike, I almost fell down because my legs were absolutely killing me. Kimberly and I went the next morning and walked that same trail again, and I told her that I may not be able to keep up because my legs were so sore from the previous day's ride. As it turns out, I was able to keep up. I realized that while I was pretty sore, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I expected it to. I decided to go try it again on the bike the next chance I got.
That chance was the following Saturday afternoon. Once again, I loaded up the bike and headed out to the park. This time I finished in around 15 minutes. My legs still hurt, but it was slightly more bearable this time. I was actually getting a little excited about the prospect of riding more often.
My friend Nate is quite up to speed on all the local parks and trails, and he knows all the best places to ride. He mentioned the Ivy Creek Greenway, which is less than a half mile from where I work. I decided to go ride it Tuesday after work. It was pretty good...being the seasoned rider I was (you know...two 3 mile rides under my belt), I was able to knock it out pretty quick. I went home having ridden about 4 miles feeling pretty satisfied with myself.
Two days later, on Thursday, I went to the same trail after work. I went about 5 and a half miles that day. Other than heading straight from there to band practice, only to get laughed at for being soaked with sweat, it was a pretty good experience. Every time I rode, I covered just a little more ground than the previous time, and I was feeling pretty good about it.
I hadn't planned on riding Friday. Kimberly and I had an end-of-the-year teacher party to attend that night, so timing was going to be a little tight. I started out the door to head home, and I just couldn't do it...I had to do at least something. I went with Nate over to Rock Springs park and put in a quick three miles before heading home.
All in all, I was drastically improving every time I rode. This past Saturday, in a twist of fate, my entire day's schedule opened up at the last minute. Jackpot! I decided to test out my endurance and see how much I could do. I headed out to the Suwanee Creek Greenway. Where I parked was right in the middle of the trail, with about 2.5 miles on either side. I started left. I rode the 2.5 miles to the end and back....okay, that's 5 miles. When I got back, I decided to go right. I went about a mile going that way and came back. This brings my total to 7 miles. As usual, I was pretty sore and pretty tired, but I felt good about it. I thought to myself, I'll head toward home and stop at Rock Springs park. Maybe I'll do 3 miles there to bring it to an even ten for the day.
Rock Springs park has a 1/3 mile track, so it's easy to ride in increments, knowing exactly how far you've gone. I finished the first mile. Then I finished the second mile. Right around the time I was wrapping up the third mile, I thought, I think I can do a little more. So I just kept going around the track. 4 miles. 5 miles. I just kept going. By the time I stopped, I had ridden 7 miles on the track. This brought my total to 14 miles. In one day. This may not mean a lot to you, or to someone who rides regularly, but it's absolutely huge for me. I can't remember the last time I felt so good about something I had accomplished!
Sunday, after doing some around-the-house stuff we needed to knock out, Kimberly and I took Cohen to the park and walked again. It felt great. Despite having ridden 14 miles the previous day, my legs could not only handle the brisk walk but also the occasional bursts of jogging up hills. Can this actually be happening? Am I exercising? Am I making progress?
I had decided not to ride on Sunday. After getting back from the park, we jumped in the pool for a while. My plan was to climb out of the pool and watch the Braves game a little after 1:00. By 1:45, I could stand it...I had to go back to the park and ride some more. Rock Springs it was. After 9 laps around the track (3 miles), I decided to call it a day. I got back in the car and made it almost to the park gate before turning back around. I knew I had more in me than that. I went back to the track and strapped on my skates (the inlines I use for hockey). I had no idea what to expect. Maybe I'd do a lap or two and see how it went. I had finally had my fill after 6 laps. That was 3 miles on a bike and 2 miles on skates.
I couldn't believe how good I was feeling about all this! I went to bed Sunday night excited about my upcoming ride today after work. I planned on going back to Rock Springs (my new favorite place) and log about 7 more miles or so. The thought had crossed my mind that I could maybe do it before work, since I didn't have to take Cohen to Snellville this morning. However, in my old age lately, fully waking up has been harder and harder every day.
When I woke up this morning, I was just as groggy as I usually am. As Kimberly left for work, I decided that I should just go out and try it. Worst-case-scenario, if I didn't like it, I'd just go back after work, as was my original plan anyway. I pulled into the park, still rubbing my eyes and trying to fully wake myself up. Despite my muddled head, I climbed on my bike, put the iPod on GNR's Appetite for Destruction, and started pedaling. By the end of mile 1, my eyes were wide, my vision was clear, and I was fully awake. My legs hurt, but that hadn't stopped me yet, so I wasn't going to let it get to me today, either.
45 minutes later I was at the shop, changing out of my sweat-drenched clothes and cleaning up for work, having ridden 7 miles.
Just in case you haven't caught the theme here...I feel great! The fact that I would be exercising in and of itself is almost foreign to me, but the fact that I'm exercising and enjoying it...well, that's just ridiculous! I really think I'm starting to become addicted to riding my bike. Even having done the 7 miles this morning, I can't wait until work is over, so I can to at least seven more before I go home. Maybe I'll do ten, just to top Saturday!
I have no idea how much weight, if any, I have lost. Though I haven't changed my diet drastically, I have started eating more sensible portions. Also, I have cut out about 90 percent of my soda intake and replaced it with water. Instead of grabbing a handful of chips before going to bed, I have been drinking a glass of V8 splash (you know...the juice that has a complete serving of fruits and vegetables in each glass).
Point of it all is that it only took two weeks to get comfortable with a signifantly more active lifestyle.
I'm pretty happy about it.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Today I didn't even have to use my AK...
Ever have one of those days, when everything is just awesome?
Yesterday, when I got to work in the morning, one of our first calls was from Nick Dixon, the clubhouse manager for the Gwinnett Braves. He said he needed us to do some nameplates for him. We've done nameplates for the G-Braves in the past. We did them for the offices of the Manager, General Manager, Marketing people, etc. So I was quite surprised when he came in later with a player's locker nameplate he wanted us to reproduce! I get giddy whenever we do anything having to do with the Gwinnett Braves. Now, I get to make the nameplates that are going on the lockers of the likes of Jordan Schafer, Gregor Blanco, Brandon Jones, etc. You may not know all those guys, but I do, and I'm pretty darn excited about it.
THEN, I saw a facebook update from Kris Oas, mentioning that the McDonalds in Lawrenceville has the super-fancy, futuristic, touch screen Coke fountain machine. This machine has over 100 flavor options, including Sprite in the flavors of grape, raspberry, and peach; and Coke in the flavors of Vanilla, Lime, Grape, Orange, Raspberry. As soon as Oas confirmed which McDonalds it was, I was on my way. I started out with a little Grape Sprite, followed by Orange Coke, followed by Grape Vault, and closed it out with Peach Sprite, and I was on my way. Every flavor was awesome. I'm a "new soft drink flavor" nerd, so it was like Christmas for me.
THEN, after I got back to work, the waiting game started. It was....wait for it....BRAVES OPENING DAY! The game was set to start at 4:00. I would have loved to actually go to the opening game, and for the life of me, I really don't know why I didn't. I did enjoy getting a nice update from Chris on Jason Heyward's debut at-bat/debut home run. As soon as the clock hit 5:30, I was out the door to go home and watch the last half of the game.
When I got home, it was about 5:45. Kimberly and Cohen walked in the door shortly after. Cohen immediately ran into the living room and grabbed the (nerf-style) baseball, and we played catch for about 15 minutes (for real...the kid's got an arm!). He then took the ball and stood in front of the TV, mimicking the pitcher, throwing the ball everytime the pitcher threw the ball. It was quite possibly my proudest moment to date as a father.
As the game was winding down (16-5 was the final score), I hopped in the car and headed over to Mike's house for Last Chucks practice. It was a pretty good practice. Hot as crap, and I was sweating through my shirt by the second song, but that's okay.
Point of it all is...yesterday was an all-around awesome day. No barking from the dog. No smog. The Lakers beat the Supersonics. And, I even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp.
Yesterday, when I got to work in the morning, one of our first calls was from Nick Dixon, the clubhouse manager for the Gwinnett Braves. He said he needed us to do some nameplates for him. We've done nameplates for the G-Braves in the past. We did them for the offices of the Manager, General Manager, Marketing people, etc. So I was quite surprised when he came in later with a player's locker nameplate he wanted us to reproduce! I get giddy whenever we do anything having to do with the Gwinnett Braves. Now, I get to make the nameplates that are going on the lockers of the likes of Jordan Schafer, Gregor Blanco, Brandon Jones, etc. You may not know all those guys, but I do, and I'm pretty darn excited about it.
THEN, I saw a facebook update from Kris Oas, mentioning that the McDonalds in Lawrenceville has the super-fancy, futuristic, touch screen Coke fountain machine. This machine has over 100 flavor options, including Sprite in the flavors of grape, raspberry, and peach; and Coke in the flavors of Vanilla, Lime, Grape, Orange, Raspberry. As soon as Oas confirmed which McDonalds it was, I was on my way. I started out with a little Grape Sprite, followed by Orange Coke, followed by Grape Vault, and closed it out with Peach Sprite, and I was on my way. Every flavor was awesome. I'm a "new soft drink flavor" nerd, so it was like Christmas for me.
THEN, after I got back to work, the waiting game started. It was....wait for it....BRAVES OPENING DAY! The game was set to start at 4:00. I would have loved to actually go to the opening game, and for the life of me, I really don't know why I didn't. I did enjoy getting a nice update from Chris on Jason Heyward's debut at-bat/debut home run. As soon as the clock hit 5:30, I was out the door to go home and watch the last half of the game.
When I got home, it was about 5:45. Kimberly and Cohen walked in the door shortly after. Cohen immediately ran into the living room and grabbed the (nerf-style) baseball, and we played catch for about 15 minutes (for real...the kid's got an arm!). He then took the ball and stood in front of the TV, mimicking the pitcher, throwing the ball everytime the pitcher threw the ball. It was quite possibly my proudest moment to date as a father.
As the game was winding down (16-5 was the final score), I hopped in the car and headed over to Mike's house for Last Chucks practice. It was a pretty good practice. Hot as crap, and I was sweating through my shirt by the second song, but that's okay.
Point of it all is...yesterday was an all-around awesome day. No barking from the dog. No smog. The Lakers beat the Supersonics. And, I even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Went to a GH show, and a SFO show broke out.
This past Saturday morning started out like any other Saturday morning does. Kimberly went to walk with her mom while I fed Cohen his breakfast and we played for a little while. After she got home, I handed the little guy off to her and headed to hockey.
I had no idea that I was about to have quite possibly the best Saturday night of my life.
In between games at hockey, I routinely check my phone. This week was no different. Only this time, I had a text message from Jason (you know...from the Anthem blogs). It stated:
FYI there's gonna be a squad reunion tonight in ATL
WHAT?
(back story)
You may or may not know. I mentioned in a previous blog post that we (members of Anthem) were big fans of Squad Five-O. I may have understated that a bit. Squad Five-O is one of my two absolute, hands-down, favorite bands of all time (the other is Five Iron Frenzy). I first saw Squad when I was seventeen, and over the next 6 years, I saw them about 30-40 more times. No exaggerating. I am really pretty sure I saw them that many times. They broke up about five years ago, and I was pretty sure it was for real over, and I'd never see them again.
Squad Five-O had (at one point) five members. Jeff Fortson sang. His brother John Fortson played bass. Adam Garbinski played guitar. Dave Petersen (formerly of Blaster the Rocketboy) played drums, and Kris Klein played second guitar.
After they broke up, John moved to Orlando and joined a band called Gasoline Heart with Louis Defabrizio. Adam and Dave started their own band. Jeff went back to school.
When Jason and Brent moved to Orlando, they ran into John one night, and they became friends. Jason eventually joined Gasoline heart for a while.
(flash back to present times)
When I called Jason back after his text on Saturday, he said that Gasoline Heart was on their way to play a show in Marietta, and they were picking up Jeff on the way. I later learned that Gasoline Heart was (kind of) breaking up, and this was a last horrah before Louis moved to New York. They had apparently been practicing a few Squad Five-O songs, and were planning on bringing Jeff and playing the SFO songs that night.
Okay, cool, I thought. Even if it's not a full on Squad Five-O lineup, it'll still be nice to see John and Jeff play together...plus I like Gasoline Heart, anyway. This will definitely be a good show.
Kimberly and I dropped Cohen off at my parents' to spend the night, and up to Marietta we went. When we walked into the place (The Local...a bar within another bar), I saw John. Then I saw Jeff. This is really happening!, I thought. Kimberly and I were grabbing a bite to eat within the restaurant part of the place, and we could see through the windows into stage area. I saw Louis. I saw a few other people I recognized. Then I saw...Adam Garbinski? And who's that with him...is that...Dave Petersen?!?!
Holy crap! Squad Five-O is really here!
We ran into a few old friends and caught up with them through the opening act (who, I'm pretty sure, was originally supposed to be the headlining act), and then Gasoline Heart was set to go.
I've seen Gasoline Heart a few times. They're really good. This time was different, though. They were GREAT. When they started playing, I realized that Adam and Dave were actually playing in GH. They weren't in the band in previous times I saw them, but hey, I'm not complaining. They ran through about 7 or 8 songs, then Louis said "Hey Jeff, come on up." He then addressed us and said "We've got a little surprise for you".
Then Squad Five-O played.
We were pressed up against the stage, because there was no way we were going to stand in the back for this one. It was amazing. Squad only played two of their original songs, then they played 3 covers. It was intense, though. I had forgotten why I loved this band so much in the first place! So much energy! So much fun! So much interaction with the crowd! Jeff spent the first song on top of the crowd (there are few times that I feel "crowd surfing" is acceptable, but in my mind, Jeff will ALWAYS be allowed).
I felt like I was 19 again. I acted like I was 19 again. I jumped. I clapped. I screamed. I sang along at the top of my lungs. By the time the show was over, Kimberly and I had both lost our voices.
Since Brent knows John from Orlando, we walked behind the stage when the show was over. We shook hands, exchanged hugs, and took pictures. We were about to leave, and I mentioned to Jeff, "Dude, how old is your daughter now?" He replied "She'll be eleven soon". ELEVEN! I've seen Jeff's daughter once. She was a newborn! We talked a little about the old days. We talked about The Pteradactyl club (where we were first introduced to Squad) and Spudgun (who Squad used to play with all the time).
Then, we were about to leave again. We walked out the back door. Kimberly and Cyndi went back in to go to the bathroom, and John came out and we chatted for a few minutes. When the girls came back, we just stayed out there and talked to John (and Dave showed up and hung out too). We talked about our kids; about how his daughter loves trucks and didn't want him to leave to come play the show today; about how Cohen skipped "mama" and just calls Kimberly "mom". We talked in depth and at length about the plotline and characters of LOST.
Basically, we hung out like we were old friends. And in a way, I guess we were. I never knew them in the past, and they never knew me. I felt like I knew them, though. I have felt like I have known them for the past thirteen years.
I'd like to thank four people in specific for making this possible.
1. Darrel Boyer - He took us to our first Squad Five-O show in December of 1996. Coincidentally, he was at the show this past Saturday night. It was awesome catching up with him.
2. Brent - for meeting John in Orlando. If he didn't know John, I still would have been starstruck that night, and Kimberly and I would have sheepishly walked away after the show, having not talked to my teen idols.
3. Jason - If he wasn't looking out for us, I would have never known that the show was even happening.
4. Kimberly - At first, I was worried she wouldn't be cool with going out late for the show. Fortunately, I neglected to remember that not only does she miss going to shows just as much as I do, she also loves Squad Five-O too. I think she had just as much fun as I did.
Thanks everybody. I'll never forget it.
I had no idea that I was about to have quite possibly the best Saturday night of my life.
In between games at hockey, I routinely check my phone. This week was no different. Only this time, I had a text message from Jason (you know...from the Anthem blogs). It stated:
FYI there's gonna be a squad reunion tonight in ATL
WHAT?
(back story)
You may or may not know. I mentioned in a previous blog post that we (members of Anthem) were big fans of Squad Five-O. I may have understated that a bit. Squad Five-O is one of my two absolute, hands-down, favorite bands of all time (the other is Five Iron Frenzy). I first saw Squad when I was seventeen, and over the next 6 years, I saw them about 30-40 more times. No exaggerating. I am really pretty sure I saw them that many times. They broke up about five years ago, and I was pretty sure it was for real over, and I'd never see them again.
Squad Five-O had (at one point) five members. Jeff Fortson sang. His brother John Fortson played bass. Adam Garbinski played guitar. Dave Petersen (formerly of Blaster the Rocketboy) played drums, and Kris Klein played second guitar.
After they broke up, John moved to Orlando and joined a band called Gasoline Heart with Louis Defabrizio. Adam and Dave started their own band. Jeff went back to school.
When Jason and Brent moved to Orlando, they ran into John one night, and they became friends. Jason eventually joined Gasoline heart for a while.
(flash back to present times)
When I called Jason back after his text on Saturday, he said that Gasoline Heart was on their way to play a show in Marietta, and they were picking up Jeff on the way. I later learned that Gasoline Heart was (kind of) breaking up, and this was a last horrah before Louis moved to New York. They had apparently been practicing a few Squad Five-O songs, and were planning on bringing Jeff and playing the SFO songs that night.
Okay, cool, I thought. Even if it's not a full on Squad Five-O lineup, it'll still be nice to see John and Jeff play together...plus I like Gasoline Heart, anyway. This will definitely be a good show.
Kimberly and I dropped Cohen off at my parents' to spend the night, and up to Marietta we went. When we walked into the place (The Local...a bar within another bar), I saw John. Then I saw Jeff. This is really happening!, I thought. Kimberly and I were grabbing a bite to eat within the restaurant part of the place, and we could see through the windows into stage area. I saw Louis. I saw a few other people I recognized. Then I saw...Adam Garbinski? And who's that with him...is that...Dave Petersen?!?!
Holy crap! Squad Five-O is really here!
We ran into a few old friends and caught up with them through the opening act (who, I'm pretty sure, was originally supposed to be the headlining act), and then Gasoline Heart was set to go.
I've seen Gasoline Heart a few times. They're really good. This time was different, though. They were GREAT. When they started playing, I realized that Adam and Dave were actually playing in GH. They weren't in the band in previous times I saw them, but hey, I'm not complaining. They ran through about 7 or 8 songs, then Louis said "Hey Jeff, come on up." He then addressed us and said "We've got a little surprise for you".
Then Squad Five-O played.
We were pressed up against the stage, because there was no way we were going to stand in the back for this one. It was amazing. Squad only played two of their original songs, then they played 3 covers. It was intense, though. I had forgotten why I loved this band so much in the first place! So much energy! So much fun! So much interaction with the crowd! Jeff spent the first song on top of the crowd (there are few times that I feel "crowd surfing" is acceptable, but in my mind, Jeff will ALWAYS be allowed).
I felt like I was 19 again. I acted like I was 19 again. I jumped. I clapped. I screamed. I sang along at the top of my lungs. By the time the show was over, Kimberly and I had both lost our voices.
Since Brent knows John from Orlando, we walked behind the stage when the show was over. We shook hands, exchanged hugs, and took pictures. We were about to leave, and I mentioned to Jeff, "Dude, how old is your daughter now?" He replied "She'll be eleven soon". ELEVEN! I've seen Jeff's daughter once. She was a newborn! We talked a little about the old days. We talked about The Pteradactyl club (where we were first introduced to Squad) and Spudgun (who Squad used to play with all the time).
Then, we were about to leave again. We walked out the back door. Kimberly and Cyndi went back in to go to the bathroom, and John came out and we chatted for a few minutes. When the girls came back, we just stayed out there and talked to John (and Dave showed up and hung out too). We talked about our kids; about how his daughter loves trucks and didn't want him to leave to come play the show today; about how Cohen skipped "mama" and just calls Kimberly "mom". We talked in depth and at length about the plotline and characters of LOST.
Basically, we hung out like we were old friends. And in a way, I guess we were. I never knew them in the past, and they never knew me. I felt like I knew them, though. I have felt like I have known them for the past thirteen years.
I'd like to thank four people in specific for making this possible.
1. Darrel Boyer - He took us to our first Squad Five-O show in December of 1996. Coincidentally, he was at the show this past Saturday night. It was awesome catching up with him.
2. Brent - for meeting John in Orlando. If he didn't know John, I still would have been starstruck that night, and Kimberly and I would have sheepishly walked away after the show, having not talked to my teen idols.
3. Jason - If he wasn't looking out for us, I would have never known that the show was even happening.
4. Kimberly - At first, I was worried she wouldn't be cool with going out late for the show. Fortunately, I neglected to remember that not only does she miss going to shows just as much as I do, she also loves Squad Five-O too. I think she had just as much fun as I did.
Thanks everybody. I'll never forget it.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The ever-progressing musical career of Daniel Dorris, Part IV
(continued) After about 5 or six months, Mike and I decided that it would probably just be best to move on and find a new drummer. Re-Enter Goose.
Right around this time, Lily was pregnant with Reese (their third). They already had twins, Ty and Nolan. Mike and (his lady) Hilary had one boy, Holden. By that point, we had a pretty standard process for dealing with events such as new babies, as far as participation in a band was concerned. When a baby was born, we would take about a month-long hiatus for the new daddy to get acclimated with his newly altered homelife, then once a certain comfort level was reached, we'd jump back to it.
The only problem with this is that really only one band "jumped back to it". Thank goodness for Mike's persistence. The Last Chucks got back to work (or play, I suppose), and Santa Maria never really recovered. It wasn't really because of the new baby, though. Back in Anthem, it was hard to get 5 guys together to practice regularly, and we were all young adults with no children back then. Add about 4 or 5 years to that, and it's even harder. Jobs got busier, lives became more hectic, schedules didn't coordinate well, and it's just darn near impossible to get 5 guys together to practice with any kind of regularity. It's a shame, too. Some of those Santa Maria songs are awesome, and we just flat out stopped playing them. So, after over a year and a half of preparation, Santa Maria ended in a whimper...having never played a show. We did record a 4 song demo. It will be filed in the "Songs I Play On" playlist on my iPod, along with Anthem and The Last Chucks. I will remember it fondly.
As I said though, The Last Chucks were back at it. When Goose joined The Chucks, we started working on only four songs. These were songs that we were planning on recording, so we wanted to get those down first before working on anything else.
I'll be completely honest with you. When Goose joined The Last Chucks, I knew he was a good drummer. I had played with the guy for about ten years at this point. But here's the thing...Brian (Goose's predecessor) was a great drummer. As hard as these songs were to learn on Bass, they were even harder on drums. I was really hoping Goose would be able to keep up, but I won't lie...I was worried. As it turns out...I was worried over absolutely nothing. Goose came in and not only surprised me, but amazed me with how fast he picked up the songs. As an example...we have a song called Spider. It took me about 3-4 weeks worth of practices to learn completely. It took Goose about an hour.
In May of 2008, we went into the studio (read: Jason's mom's house) to record. Oh, I didn't mention...when Jason (formerly of Anthem, for those keeping score at home) went to Orlando, his main objective was attending Full Sail University, which specialized in entertainment, music, recording engineering, etc. By the time he finished, he had become quite the producer (or recording engineer, or whatever he's called). We had him come up for a weekend to record the aforementioned four songs. The weekend went relatively well. We got three of the songs finished. *Side note: Jason also recorded the previously mentioned Santa Maria 4-song demo.
One of the songs, Bluebird Revisited, found its way onto the Diner Junkie Records compilation, Open 24 Hours. Another song, "What Can Bring A Smile" will be on a compilation cd which will be released in a month or so.
After recording, we spent the next year and a half working on the rest of the songs. There were more breaks over the course of the year, as Kimberly and I had our first baby, Cohen. In September of 2009, Mike and Hilary welcomed their second boy, Jack. In December, Goose and Lily were blessed for an all-too-short time with Evie (whose story you can read at bilslandfamily.blogspot.com ...again, no html...just copy and paste). Point is, we all had important things in our lives. Things that were/are more important than playing in a band, regardless of how good the band is.
So here we are. It's 2010, and we're still doing it. Well, by "still doing it", I mean we're getting together once a week to take out our frustrations on our instruments. The songs are still great. We're pretty dang good at them, being that we've been playing them for a number of years now.
Mike and I have different philosophies on a myriad of things, but one of the differences applicable to this story is the emphasis placed on recording versus playing live. In an ideal world, we'd be doing both. That's not the case, however. Mike loves the recording process...the ins and outs of it...the retakes, the tweaking, the scientific approach. I'm more of a live show kind of guy, myself. I love nothing more than to get up on a stage and play for an hour (or longer, as was the case in most of Anthem's shows). I don't want people to hear my band play. I want them to see us play.
Problem is...we're doing neither. Scheduling and money are hurdles as far as recording is concerned. I've been pushing Mike to book some shows, and hopefully it will happen sooner rather than later, but up to now, it hasn't.
All in all, I'm still satisfied with where my musical career has brought me so far. I have a wonderful wife and son. I have a job that I (most of the time) love. AND, I still get to play music regularly. My personal income from music is a total of $150 over the past twelve years (the Anthem fund was divided by three and doled out when Jason and Brent split...sorry guys). As Buckcherry states, though, "I didn't do it for money. I did it all for free. I did it all to fill the f***ing hole inside of me".
In addition to the weekly play-along with The Chucks, I have also recently taken up playing in the youth praise and worship band at Central Baptist Church. I started out in the summer of 2009 on bass, just to see how it'd go. After a chain of events, I now find myself playing guitar temporarily. I initially just thought it'd be fun to go in and play around with some simple songs once a week. Here lately though, I have taken it a lot more seriously. I have had a revelation of sorts, and I now realize that I am taking part in facilitating an atmosphere of worship for the students in attendance. Things have been going much better since that realization. I feel like my playing now has more of a purpose than simply entertaining myself once a week.
That, my friends, is the short version of my musical life from 1998-2010. I hope (but doubt) that you have found it as interesting to read as I have found it to remember. Maybe in 2022 I'll post another four-parter updating my faithful few readers on what has transpired in the subsequent 12 years. Until then, I'll continue to post things that make me mad/make me laugh on my one square acre of the internet.
Oh, and I think I'll start telling some of those war stories, too.
Right around this time, Lily was pregnant with Reese (their third). They already had twins, Ty and Nolan. Mike and (his lady) Hilary had one boy, Holden. By that point, we had a pretty standard process for dealing with events such as new babies, as far as participation in a band was concerned. When a baby was born, we would take about a month-long hiatus for the new daddy to get acclimated with his newly altered homelife, then once a certain comfort level was reached, we'd jump back to it.
The only problem with this is that really only one band "jumped back to it". Thank goodness for Mike's persistence. The Last Chucks got back to work (or play, I suppose), and Santa Maria never really recovered. It wasn't really because of the new baby, though. Back in Anthem, it was hard to get 5 guys together to practice regularly, and we were all young adults with no children back then. Add about 4 or 5 years to that, and it's even harder. Jobs got busier, lives became more hectic, schedules didn't coordinate well, and it's just darn near impossible to get 5 guys together to practice with any kind of regularity. It's a shame, too. Some of those Santa Maria songs are awesome, and we just flat out stopped playing them. So, after over a year and a half of preparation, Santa Maria ended in a whimper...having never played a show. We did record a 4 song demo. It will be filed in the "Songs I Play On" playlist on my iPod, along with Anthem and The Last Chucks. I will remember it fondly.
As I said though, The Last Chucks were back at it. When Goose joined The Chucks, we started working on only four songs. These were songs that we were planning on recording, so we wanted to get those down first before working on anything else.
I'll be completely honest with you. When Goose joined The Last Chucks, I knew he was a good drummer. I had played with the guy for about ten years at this point. But here's the thing...Brian (Goose's predecessor) was a great drummer. As hard as these songs were to learn on Bass, they were even harder on drums. I was really hoping Goose would be able to keep up, but I won't lie...I was worried. As it turns out...I was worried over absolutely nothing. Goose came in and not only surprised me, but amazed me with how fast he picked up the songs. As an example...we have a song called Spider. It took me about 3-4 weeks worth of practices to learn completely. It took Goose about an hour.
In May of 2008, we went into the studio (read: Jason's mom's house) to record. Oh, I didn't mention...when Jason (formerly of Anthem, for those keeping score at home) went to Orlando, his main objective was attending Full Sail University, which specialized in entertainment, music, recording engineering, etc. By the time he finished, he had become quite the producer (or recording engineer, or whatever he's called). We had him come up for a weekend to record the aforementioned four songs. The weekend went relatively well. We got three of the songs finished. *Side note: Jason also recorded the previously mentioned Santa Maria 4-song demo.
One of the songs, Bluebird Revisited, found its way onto the Diner Junkie Records compilation, Open 24 Hours. Another song, "What Can Bring A Smile" will be on a compilation cd which will be released in a month or so.
After recording, we spent the next year and a half working on the rest of the songs. There were more breaks over the course of the year, as Kimberly and I had our first baby, Cohen. In September of 2009, Mike and Hilary welcomed their second boy, Jack. In December, Goose and Lily were blessed for an all-too-short time with Evie (whose story you can read at bilslandfamily.blogspot.com ...again, no html...just copy and paste). Point is, we all had important things in our lives. Things that were/are more important than playing in a band, regardless of how good the band is.
So here we are. It's 2010, and we're still doing it. Well, by "still doing it", I mean we're getting together once a week to take out our frustrations on our instruments. The songs are still great. We're pretty dang good at them, being that we've been playing them for a number of years now.
Mike and I have different philosophies on a myriad of things, but one of the differences applicable to this story is the emphasis placed on recording versus playing live. In an ideal world, we'd be doing both. That's not the case, however. Mike loves the recording process...the ins and outs of it...the retakes, the tweaking, the scientific approach. I'm more of a live show kind of guy, myself. I love nothing more than to get up on a stage and play for an hour (or longer, as was the case in most of Anthem's shows). I don't want people to hear my band play. I want them to see us play.
Problem is...we're doing neither. Scheduling and money are hurdles as far as recording is concerned. I've been pushing Mike to book some shows, and hopefully it will happen sooner rather than later, but up to now, it hasn't.
All in all, I'm still satisfied with where my musical career has brought me so far. I have a wonderful wife and son. I have a job that I (most of the time) love. AND, I still get to play music regularly. My personal income from music is a total of $150 over the past twelve years (the Anthem fund was divided by three and doled out when Jason and Brent split...sorry guys). As Buckcherry states, though, "I didn't do it for money. I did it all for free. I did it all to fill the f***ing hole inside of me".
In addition to the weekly play-along with The Chucks, I have also recently taken up playing in the youth praise and worship band at Central Baptist Church. I started out in the summer of 2009 on bass, just to see how it'd go. After a chain of events, I now find myself playing guitar temporarily. I initially just thought it'd be fun to go in and play around with some simple songs once a week. Here lately though, I have taken it a lot more seriously. I have had a revelation of sorts, and I now realize that I am taking part in facilitating an atmosphere of worship for the students in attendance. Things have been going much better since that realization. I feel like my playing now has more of a purpose than simply entertaining myself once a week.
That, my friends, is the short version of my musical life from 1998-2010. I hope (but doubt) that you have found it as interesting to read as I have found it to remember. Maybe in 2022 I'll post another four-parter updating my faithful few readers on what has transpired in the subsequent 12 years. Until then, I'll continue to post things that make me mad/make me laugh on my one square acre of the internet.
Oh, and I think I'll start telling some of those war stories, too.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The ever-progressing musical career of Daniel Dorris, Part III
(Continued) We played our last show in July of 2005.
We had tons of friends come watch our last show. One of these friends was Mike Cammarata, of the Last Chucks. He made mention that night that he was thinking about starting a second band of his own...a more straight-forward rock and roll type project. Since Jason and Brent were moving to Orlando, maybe Goose, Doug, and I should look into this with him. We said sure. Then nothing happened with this project for about a year and a half.
February 2006: I had not played with a band for almost seven months. Despite a healthy marriage, a good job, and an overall happy life, I still felt incomplete. I had played in a band almost constantly since I was seventeen, and now I had nothing. Then one day, I was rooting around on MySpace, and I saw a bulletin that my friend Mike from The Chucks was looking for a bass player.
Going back to the paragraph where I mentioned playing bass in the church band...I didn't mention the fact that I absolutely loved playing bass. In the last few years of Anthem, I had secret fantasies that included Doug having to leave the band for some reason, and me having to fill in at bass. Nothing against Doug, mind you. He's a good friend and a good bass player. I was just jealous.
Back to the story: I answered Mike's bulletin, borrowed a bass, and headed over to his house to practice with him and Brian Cook (Beaker) on drums. Things went well, I suppose, as they liked me enough to let me join. We spent the next few months getting me up to speed on the songs, then started playing out again.
We did a little traveling. We played on the Clemson campus once in South Carolina. We played in Birmingham, Alabama with The Queers (an honor for any fan of punk music). Mostly though, we practiced. The Last Chucks had changed since they had played with Anthem early on. The songs were more complex. They required a lot of thought, talent, and practice to play. Learning and playing the songs was somewhat of a puzzle - a challenge...and I welcomed it. It boosted my skill level exponentially more than I ever would have had the wherewithal or the desire to do myself. I will forever give Mike Cammarata credit for being probably the best songwriter I know personally, if not the best songwriter I know of, period.
December 2006: On a whim one night, I decided that Goose, Doug, and I needed to get together to play some Anthem songs in my basement. The songs were too fun to just let disappear...they needed to be played. We set up in our living room downstairs and realized that we didn't have any microphones. It occurred to me that I had taken all of them to Mike's house for Last Chucks stuff. This ended up being a good opportunity to call Mike and see if he wanted to bring a couple of them over, along with his guitar, and we'd see about this side project we had talked about a year and a half prior.
Things went smashingly. That night, I pulled out a song I had written and we ran through it. Everything felt good. The song (Looking For My Place) was catchy, and we decided to build off of it. Mike got to work, this time writing straight-forward rock songs. It was a great experience. I had my technichal band in The Last Chucks, and I also had my fun rock band, which was untitled for about a year. Naming bands is no easy task, my friend.
After a few months, we (the new, yet-unnamed band) had a solid set's worth of songs, and we heard that Brent may be moving back from Orlando. Mike had been singing up to that point, but he really didn't want to be the frontman of this band. He just wanted to play guitar and be in the background. We decided that Brent would fit right in to this group upon his moving back. If only we had a name of this band, things would be complete.
I'd love to tell you we have some cool story behind the name we came up with, but the truth is, there isn't. After spending literally hours trying to come up with something on multiple occasions over the course of a year, we discussed and discarded such names as The Blue Jeans, The Ruckus, and a slew of others that I fail to remember at this point. Finally, someone (I'm pretty sure it was Mike) threw out "Santa Maria". Some of us loved it, some of us thought it was okay, and some of us didn't really care anymore. Point is, none of us hated it, so that became the name...Santa Maria.
Mike and I pulled double-duty between the two bands for a while. Sunday was practice day. We would have Chucks practice at his house around 1:00, then we would have Santa Maria practice at my house around 5:00. This went on probably about a year, until one day I showed up for Chucks practice, and Brian wasn't there yet.
And he never showed up.
He didn't call, email, or anything. A week went by without his returning any calls. Then two weeks. Then a month. Then two months. It was the strangest thing. The guy just flat-out disappeared! We knew he was alive, as a friend of ours saw him in Athens one day. He just never made any contact with us at all.
After about 5 or six months, Mike and I decided that it would probably just be best to move on and find a new drummer. Re-Enter Goose.
To Be Continued...
We had tons of friends come watch our last show. One of these friends was Mike Cammarata, of the Last Chucks. He made mention that night that he was thinking about starting a second band of his own...a more straight-forward rock and roll type project. Since Jason and Brent were moving to Orlando, maybe Goose, Doug, and I should look into this with him. We said sure. Then nothing happened with this project for about a year and a half.
February 2006: I had not played with a band for almost seven months. Despite a healthy marriage, a good job, and an overall happy life, I still felt incomplete. I had played in a band almost constantly since I was seventeen, and now I had nothing. Then one day, I was rooting around on MySpace, and I saw a bulletin that my friend Mike from The Chucks was looking for a bass player.
Going back to the paragraph where I mentioned playing bass in the church band...I didn't mention the fact that I absolutely loved playing bass. In the last few years of Anthem, I had secret fantasies that included Doug having to leave the band for some reason, and me having to fill in at bass. Nothing against Doug, mind you. He's a good friend and a good bass player. I was just jealous.
Back to the story: I answered Mike's bulletin, borrowed a bass, and headed over to his house to practice with him and Brian Cook (Beaker) on drums. Things went well, I suppose, as they liked me enough to let me join. We spent the next few months getting me up to speed on the songs, then started playing out again.
We did a little traveling. We played on the Clemson campus once in South Carolina. We played in Birmingham, Alabama with The Queers (an honor for any fan of punk music). Mostly though, we practiced. The Last Chucks had changed since they had played with Anthem early on. The songs were more complex. They required a lot of thought, talent, and practice to play. Learning and playing the songs was somewhat of a puzzle - a challenge...and I welcomed it. It boosted my skill level exponentially more than I ever would have had the wherewithal or the desire to do myself. I will forever give Mike Cammarata credit for being probably the best songwriter I know personally, if not the best songwriter I know of, period.
December 2006: On a whim one night, I decided that Goose, Doug, and I needed to get together to play some Anthem songs in my basement. The songs were too fun to just let disappear...they needed to be played. We set up in our living room downstairs and realized that we didn't have any microphones. It occurred to me that I had taken all of them to Mike's house for Last Chucks stuff. This ended up being a good opportunity to call Mike and see if he wanted to bring a couple of them over, along with his guitar, and we'd see about this side project we had talked about a year and a half prior.
Things went smashingly. That night, I pulled out a song I had written and we ran through it. Everything felt good. The song (Looking For My Place) was catchy, and we decided to build off of it. Mike got to work, this time writing straight-forward rock songs. It was a great experience. I had my technichal band in The Last Chucks, and I also had my fun rock band, which was untitled for about a year. Naming bands is no easy task, my friend.
After a few months, we (the new, yet-unnamed band) had a solid set's worth of songs, and we heard that Brent may be moving back from Orlando. Mike had been singing up to that point, but he really didn't want to be the frontman of this band. He just wanted to play guitar and be in the background. We decided that Brent would fit right in to this group upon his moving back. If only we had a name of this band, things would be complete.
I'd love to tell you we have some cool story behind the name we came up with, but the truth is, there isn't. After spending literally hours trying to come up with something on multiple occasions over the course of a year, we discussed and discarded such names as The Blue Jeans, The Ruckus, and a slew of others that I fail to remember at this point. Finally, someone (I'm pretty sure it was Mike) threw out "Santa Maria". Some of us loved it, some of us thought it was okay, and some of us didn't really care anymore. Point is, none of us hated it, so that became the name...Santa Maria.
Mike and I pulled double-duty between the two bands for a while. Sunday was practice day. We would have Chucks practice at his house around 1:00, then we would have Santa Maria practice at my house around 5:00. This went on probably about a year, until one day I showed up for Chucks practice, and Brian wasn't there yet.
And he never showed up.
He didn't call, email, or anything. A week went by without his returning any calls. Then two weeks. Then a month. Then two months. It was the strangest thing. The guy just flat-out disappeared! We knew he was alive, as a friend of ours saw him in Athens one day. He just never made any contact with us at all.
After about 5 or six months, Mike and I decided that it would probably just be best to move on and find a new drummer. Re-Enter Goose.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The ever-progressing musical career of Daniel Dorris, Part II - Whoa Oh! I Wanna Rock and Roll!
(Continued)
Hmm...Anthem! That's it! The band will be called Anthem!
Goose, Brent and I had our new rock and roll band and were off to the races. We signed with an up-and-coming new record label called Four Ring Records (started by a co-pastor at Faith Life Fellowship) and went in to the studio (read: our friend Dave Rigg's house) to record our full-length album, 2 Close 4 Comfort. We never actually finished the album, though we did compile enough recordings to create what could be construed as a full-length project.
About two years into the Anthem era, it was evident that Brent was the animated-frontman type and that being behind a bass was holding him back. Enter Doug E. Knight.
Oh, before I go any further, there is something I neglected to mention earlier...stage names. Brent (whose given name is James Brent Dorris), became Jimmy B. Anthem. I (Daniel Martin Dorris), became Danny M. Anthem. Goose...well, he's Goose. His real name is David Mark Bilsland, but ever since I met the guy, he always has been, and always will be Goose. Douglas Edgar Banks became Doug E. Knight...he's a fan of Batman...you know, the Dark Knight.
Anyway, as a four-piece, we persevered forward. We were all decent enough musicians. Nothing spectacular, but it got the job done. We were playing clubs and bars regularly (and the occasional outdoor Christian music festival). Our first show at The Last Great Watering Hole, a bar that would soon be one of our regular venues, was with a band we were friends with called The Last Chucks.
As time went by, we were playing more often, and it became apparent that we really needed a second guitar player. We were a little pickier this time than we were when Doug joined. Not that Doug wasn't good, mind you...but when he joined, he hadn't played bass before. He learned how to play as he went along. He progressed very quickly. But as for a second guitar player, this guy needed to be good. He needed to be the one musician that put us over the top; that made us a genuine good rock and roll band. The first guy we tried was Jason Mask. We went over to his house and set up the band in his basement. We ran through a few songs with Jason, and after we finished, we asked him to stay inside while we walked out and talk about some things. I believe once we got outside, the conversation went something like:
"Wow"
"I know, right?"
"He's pretty awesome"
"So, we don't really need to discuss this, do we?"
"I don't think so"
"So, he's in?"
"Yeah."
Enter C.J. Mask.
As a solid five-piece, we spent the next few years playing out quite regularly. We never made our way out of Atlanta, but we played a pretty heavy rotation of The Last Great Watering Hole, Anthony's, 9 Lives Saloon, Presidio, etc. There are a ton of "war stories" from this time period. Maybe I will create a blog series on that one day soon. Although, some of those involve rivalries, hard feelings, and various shenanigans, so I may have to choose wisely.
The problem with this is that we became comfortable. Or, at least that was my problem. We were comfortable with playing out regluarly. We never persued more; never tried to sign with a real label (Four Rings had long since folded); never tried to tour.
Understandibly, this frustrated Jason. He was the real premier musician in the group. He had hopes and dreams that included a musical career. We weren't in the same place as Jason. In June 2004, I got married (to the aforementioned hot little number, Kimberly). A month later, Goose married Lily (that story you can read for yourself at bilslandfamily.blogspot.com - sorry, no link, because I don't know crap about html). We were starting households. We were starting families.
Jason approached us in 2005 and told us he was moving to Orlando. Brent was also looking for some kind of a change, as his life had fallen into somewhat of a rut, so he went with Jason. We played our last show in July of 2005.
I still listen to the recording of that show regularly. The sound quality is crap, but the memories are as clear as can be.
(to be continued)
Hmm...Anthem! That's it! The band will be called Anthem!
Goose, Brent and I had our new rock and roll band and were off to the races. We signed with an up-and-coming new record label called Four Ring Records (started by a co-pastor at Faith Life Fellowship) and went in to the studio (read: our friend Dave Rigg's house) to record our full-length album, 2 Close 4 Comfort. We never actually finished the album, though we did compile enough recordings to create what could be construed as a full-length project.
About two years into the Anthem era, it was evident that Brent was the animated-frontman type and that being behind a bass was holding him back. Enter Doug E. Knight.
Oh, before I go any further, there is something I neglected to mention earlier...stage names. Brent (whose given name is James Brent Dorris), became Jimmy B. Anthem. I (Daniel Martin Dorris), became Danny M. Anthem. Goose...well, he's Goose. His real name is David Mark Bilsland, but ever since I met the guy, he always has been, and always will be Goose. Douglas Edgar Banks became Doug E. Knight...he's a fan of Batman...you know, the Dark Knight.
Anyway, as a four-piece, we persevered forward. We were all decent enough musicians. Nothing spectacular, but it got the job done. We were playing clubs and bars regularly (and the occasional outdoor Christian music festival). Our first show at The Last Great Watering Hole, a bar that would soon be one of our regular venues, was with a band we were friends with called The Last Chucks.
As time went by, we were playing more often, and it became apparent that we really needed a second guitar player. We were a little pickier this time than we were when Doug joined. Not that Doug wasn't good, mind you...but when he joined, he hadn't played bass before. He learned how to play as he went along. He progressed very quickly. But as for a second guitar player, this guy needed to be good. He needed to be the one musician that put us over the top; that made us a genuine good rock and roll band. The first guy we tried was Jason Mask. We went over to his house and set up the band in his basement. We ran through a few songs with Jason, and after we finished, we asked him to stay inside while we walked out and talk about some things. I believe once we got outside, the conversation went something like:
"Wow"
"I know, right?"
"He's pretty awesome"
"So, we don't really need to discuss this, do we?"
"I don't think so"
"So, he's in?"
"Yeah."
Enter C.J. Mask.
As a solid five-piece, we spent the next few years playing out quite regularly. We never made our way out of Atlanta, but we played a pretty heavy rotation of The Last Great Watering Hole, Anthony's, 9 Lives Saloon, Presidio, etc. There are a ton of "war stories" from this time period. Maybe I will create a blog series on that one day soon. Although, some of those involve rivalries, hard feelings, and various shenanigans, so I may have to choose wisely.
The problem with this is that we became comfortable. Or, at least that was my problem. We were comfortable with playing out regluarly. We never persued more; never tried to sign with a real label (Four Rings had long since folded); never tried to tour.
Understandibly, this frustrated Jason. He was the real premier musician in the group. He had hopes and dreams that included a musical career. We weren't in the same place as Jason. In June 2004, I got married (to the aforementioned hot little number, Kimberly). A month later, Goose married Lily (that story you can read for yourself at bilslandfamily.blogspot.com - sorry, no link, because I don't know crap about html). We were starting households. We were starting families.
Jason approached us in 2005 and told us he was moving to Orlando. Brent was also looking for some kind of a change, as his life had fallen into somewhat of a rut, so he went with Jason. We played our last show in July of 2005.
I still listen to the recording of that show regularly. The sound quality is crap, but the memories are as clear as can be.
(to be continued)
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