Memories from Yesteryears (part 1)

So much goes into making us who we are! It is staggering, at times, to think about the sheer volume of experience that we filter, assimilate, and throw out or recycle in order to form our life story; our narrative of our time here on Earth. I was always drawn to the long, drawn out, seemingly ordinary details Kerouac would labor over and how they would shape and frame his feel so perfectly. Well, this week I am channeling my adolescent self, in the early days of being a dedicated minstrel, a notebook filling scoundrel, and a faithful observer and participant in life. These experiences made their way to my music, general outlook, and greatly shaped my aesthetic preferences in life. Hope you enjoy…

2:45 pm on a Spring day, 1988, Soquel, California.

The sun is out, the temperature is about 76 degrees, there is a soft coastal breeze blowing, and about 500 hundred kids are leaving the high school campus happy as can be; it’s Friday. Some kids head toward the parking lot, some towards the bus stop, and others head down the wooded bike trail to Soquel Village where they will catch a city bus to Aptos or Santa Cruz or maybe just lurk at a local shop for a while, smoking cigarettes and trying to get someone to buy them a beer. Friday in a West Coast beach town. A really nice springboard for a potentially memorable weekend.

I am headed down the trail. I brought my guitar that day because I had a recital in my guitar class. Mr X, my instructor, told me that my treatment of Bourée was creative, I guess he would know, that guy was a child of the sixties…what, did he think one man could defeat glaucoma single-handedly? Anyway, my guitar is slung across my back with its strap along with my backpack, I’ve taken off my flannel tied it around my waist, my black pocket tee is in my backpack. About 50 yards down the trail I see my buddy Adam.

“Whatsa happenin’ Adam?” He is digging in his trench coat and finds his cigarettes and hands me one and tells me,

“Jayne is being so weird dude, her and Eliane are like, not talking to me.”

“What? Are you guys fighting?” I ask.

“Not even! I just gave her a rosary yesterday and she started crying, told me she loved me! I walked up to her today to give her a kiss and she blew smoke in my face and said ‘I’m in a mood right now,’ I don’t know what that’s all about.”

“Dude, let’s just go to Toot’s, meet up with Brett and figure out what we’re gonna do tonight,” I offer.

“Ok, but I hate it when she’s pissed at me.”

“Bro, you must hate ‘it’ a lot! Tell her that her make-up looks hot, you’ll be smoochin’ in no time!” We both laughed. Jayne was an absolute sucker for a compliment, but she was so frickin’ complicated, you could lose your voices keeping her happy with them!

I had my great grandpa’s black fedora on and my bangs were blowing around in the breeze, a couple strands blew into the cherry of my cigarette and made an awful smell, Adam and I winced and laughed. We headed across Soquel Drive and then under Highway 1 and through the Nob Hill/Chuck E. Cheese parking lot to the Soquel Creek trail. The second we got up the bank and in the creek’s little canyon, the air got much cooler, it was blowing up from Capitola Village on the beach, about three quarters of a mile away. I stopped, set my back pack down, handed Adam my guitar, and untied my flannel and put it on. After reaffixing my supplies, we continued walking down the trail. The redwoods were swaying a bit, there were plenty of flowers in bloom, and the morning glories were entwined in and so vibrant on the people’s creekside fences. One house has Caravan by Van Morrison gently drifting out the windows.

As the creek flattened out and became a canal I looked over and saw a few gulls swooping on a pair of ducks, I looked around for a rock, found one, picked it up and hurled it through the air at the gulls…

“What the hell is your problem”?! I mumble at the gulls.

Simpler times.

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When he’s not enjoying fishing, road testing cables with his band, or fielding musical/instrument cable questions over the phone/e-mail, Michael handles operations and purchasing and is simply loving life. You can also follow Michael on Twitter !