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Tuesday, December 26. 2006

Cold Sweat and Other Gifts

It’s the day after Christmas when the malls are filled with people returning stuff; gifts that don’t fit, or duplicates something the recipient already owns … or came in the wrong color or they would rather have the cash instead of the gift.

My gifting is different. Since my family lives every where but Sunny Sandy Eggo, the gifts are usually clothing with a San Diego-related imprint on it, bought at one of many little touristy places that dot several of the beaches I frequent.

For instance, my nephew, who is also my Godson, got a couple of T-shirts, one of which depicts Black’s Beach, probably the most famous “clothes-optional” beach in America. He lives in Minnesota so his bragging rights this year include having a T-shirt from a nude beach. He’ll be coming to visit soon enough and a trip to Black’s will be on the itinerary.

Another nephew received a San Diego Life Guard zip-up hoodie — a fashion statement! I have several hoodies I’ve been wearing for years, over a decade for one. The zipper broke and I’m thinking of having it repaired.
 Thinking about doing something for me is … generally just time-consuming navel-gazing. Fixing the zipper on my favorite hoodie has been on my mind for several years now and as yet … it’s still unusable.

The author and a nephew in their hoodies, years ago, fashionistas. Yeah, we’re cool.

But the hoodie has become one of those ubiquitous fashion essentials of the 20-something set, for virtually every sub culture: hip-hop, goth, country, jet-set and surfers, which is where the trend began — although, it can be said I started the trend because I’ve been wearing my hoodies since the early 1990’s. That’s right kids, I have been wearing my hoodie to the beach for over a decade, the surfers saw how cool I look in a hoodie and voila! You are now following my fashion lead. That’s alright, don’t all come thanking me at one time. Let’s keep the adulation orderly.

Hoodies ... where does it all lead?

Back to Christmas, the day after when we all rush to the malls, replay the pushing, shoving and elbow gouging of just a week ago so we can be first in line to return whatever it was Uncle Bob got us that we don’t want. Thankfully, the Uncle Bob’s of the world have been good enough to include the receipt, knowing we most likely would be tearing out the eyes of our fellow returners for that coveted first place in the return line.

the author with his new Journal

I never return gifts to the stores. I like the stuff I get, or more importantly, I like the people who send me gifts so virtually any gift is something I want; it’s something personal, a totem by which I can draw happy memories and loving thoughts of that individual.

This year my dear niece Nancy sent me a leather-bound journal. I do all my writing on this G4 these days, but now I’ll get into the habit — once again — of journaling with pen and ink. She even inscribed a very special message: “ Here’s a journal for you to keep so you can remember all your adventures. Have a Wonderful Christmas. Love, Nancy.”

It’s the “Love, Nancy” I like the best, but her optimism of me still having adventures, that touches me deeply too. I ride a Trek mountain bicycle and chronicle my journeys, places I’ve ridden and critters I’ve seen — reported with pictures the sights encountered when riding on the beaches in summer — you get my drift … but I throw a few in there for the women of the clan.

At any rate, my little black journal that sits neatly in the pouch under the saddle of my Trek will now be replaced by the larger version — the Nancy Journal — tucked into the pouch of my Camelback.

No, I wouldn’t consider returning this gift, nor any other gift. Years ago Nancy’s mother gave me a book by Bill Cosby. After I read Cosbyology, it sat on my coffee table for years and every once in a while I’d pick it up and read a bit from it. Since the recent reorganization of my little place, I’ve lost track of the book. Now that it’s gone, hidden in a box somewhere, it seems like it belongs on the coffee table.

My other sister Elaine sent me a great gift, a card she made with pictures of her son Dan and me, from oh so many years ago. I like this card above all others. You see, Young Dan came to live with me briefly after my brother Carl passed away. That was a good thing, Young Dan living here, but he joined a really good metal band, One Theory, and now lives with them in some outcropping of rock and dirt in Ramona, California.

Having never had children of my own (my most oft-heard comment was, “Now I remember why I never had kids”), I would often remark to his mother on the eccentricities of youth, in particular Young Dan’s youthful eccentricities. We would talk often, Elaine and I, because she would call nearly every day. You see, Lainey, the beautiful mother that she is, is in love with her two children more than any other earthly entity. So, with son Dan living so far away from home for the first time … she had to call … a lot.

She gets plenty of pictures e-mailed as well, but certainly not enough to satisfy her needs. Young Dan was here for Christmas Day, so Mom got a picture snapped from my mobile phone. It will have to do until this weekend when One Theory plays at the Whiskey-a-Go-Go on Saturday, December 30. If you live in Southern California and you like metal, or rock music in general, you should be at the Whiskey Saturday Night.

The Godfather of Soul — Hit Me One Time Maceo

Which brings up the saddest Christmas news of 2006: James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, the Hardest Working Man in Show Business, passed away Early Christmas Morning. I loved James Brown in the 60’s and 70’s! Bootsy Collins was in his band for a while.
 Man, I just took time out to order One Nation Under a Groove from Amazon.

James Brown has gone. It isn’t mentioned often, but he had plenty to do with the civil rights movement back in the 1960’s, when “Pappa Got a Brand New Bag” made the cross-over to popular music and JB could be seen on The Hollywood Palace and the Ed Sullivan Show. White kids like me wanted to play his music; we took up instruments like trombone, saxophone or trumpet, just because he had the hottest horn section of any band touring the country.

Many African-American performers who became popular with the American White Culture helped spread the civil rights message, but James Brown was the guy I got hooked on. I have a four CD collection, Star Time, spanning his career from 1956 to 1990. It’s all there, all the music I love. I’m listening to “Cold Sweat” right now. Maceo … I break out in a Cold Sweat whenever I listen to James Brown. “Scuse me while I do the boogaloo.” Even a fat old White man like me can’t resist getting up to dance to “Cold Sweat.”

Thanks for the future of memories, Nancy and Elaine, don’t stop calling.

Posted by Tim Forkes in HOLIDAYS at 11:27 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)

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