Category: 1980’s

1980's, Books, Childhood Memories, Dreams, Life

Beyond What We Know – My New Novella

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 7 years since the release of my last book, “Neapolitan Sky,” but I’m happy to announce that my brand new novella, “Beyond What We Know,” is set for release this summer. I’ll be using my site to share updates along the way, including the cover reveal, a chapter or two, some behind the scenes stories, giveaways and more. I hope you’ll be along for the ride.

In the meantime, I’d like to share the trailer for the book and a synopsis of “Beyond What We Know.”

Beyond What We Know – Synopsis:

“Riddled with guilt over the death of his father, high school graduate Mike Collins spends his last summer at home disquieted by thoughts of leaving behind his mother and first love as he prepares to depart for college. Unbeknownst to him, Mike will soon meet his musical hero, Chris Steele, whose perspective of life will teach him to believe in the possibility of second chances.

Filled with rich imagery from the 1980s, “Beyond What We Know” is a coming-of-age story exploring life’s obstacles, the music and the machinery, while illuminating the power of friendship with the metaphysical transcendence of the unknown.”

Arriving Summer 2025

1980's, A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Rick Springfield previews Wind Creek performance
Rick Springfield – Photo by Jay Gilbert

Rick Springfield has worn many hats over the course of his legendary career. A Grammy-winning artist who’s sold more than 25 million albums over the last four decades, he’s also a celebrated actor who’s appeared in numerous TV shows and films as well as a New York Times best-selling author.

Springfield’s musical resume includes, of course, the monstrous 1981 hit “Jessie’s Girl” — a song from his multiplatinum-selling album Working Class Dog and one that to this day remains a centerpiece of any ’80s playlist. He’d go on to score additional Top 40 hits like “Don’t Talk to Strangers,” “Human Touch” and “Love Somebody,” to name a few, the latter of which a song from his 1984 feature length film, “Hard to Hold.”

Springfield’s new music has also garnered rave reviews, including songs from his most recent album Automatic where he continues to go for (and find) the big hook. His recently released new song, “Lose Myself,” talks about a tumultuous relationship and only further reinforces Springfield as the consummate artist. The song will be part of a new greatest hits package that will include a coffee table book of photographs and is slated for release next year.

In the meantime, fans of Rick Springfield will get a taste of his ubiquitous musical career when the legendary entertainer performs at the Wind Creek Event Center in Bethlehem on Sunday.

I recently spoke with Springfield about the show, his music, memorable moments and more in this new interview.

Q. What can fans expect from your performance at Wind Creek Event Center?

Rick Springfield: You’ve always got to do the hits that everyone expects, but we also include some of the newer songs and songs that work with the audience. Even if they might not know the song sometimes, the song still works if it’s the right one. I have a great band so it’s also about what we feel like playing.

Speaking of new songs, you recently released the new single, “Lose Myself.” What can you tell me about it?

I wrote that song with a guy in Sweden named Niclas Lundin. For some reason, the Swedish guys seem to be killing it in the pop world these days with great melodies. We wrote the song about being caught up in a relationship that is destructive but incredible.

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Rick Springfield by clicking here!

1980's, Childhood Memories, Entertainment, Life, Music, My Two Cents

Sunday Sermon

Politics aside, you want to know why this country is going down the tubes? It’s because of things like this news story. It’s only a matter of time before it’s eliminated completely. No outlet for kids to have creativity of any kind. No chance to express themselves as individuals or work together as one ensemble to create something magical that brings joy to people each Christmas and spring season.

https://www.lehighvalleynews.com/easton/easd-parents-students-teachers-speak-out-over-reduced-music-education-at-elementary-schools

I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this as a 55 year old man: being part of the music and choir program at school was the only thing that saved me. It’s why when my favorite teacher, the late Ed Milisits, retired after three decades at Easton Area High School and tried starting a community choir that nearly ALL of it was comprised of now middle-aged former alumni who felt so strongly about what they experienced years ago that they blocked off time in their busy adult schedules to come back and sing. A vast majority of them hadn’t sang like that since they graduated decades ago. What does that tell you?

To quote from Whitman (and Robin Williams’ performance in Dead Poet’s Society): “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?”

Answer: That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this. Please feel free to leave a note in the comments section.

1980's, Childhood Memories, Dreams, Life, Thought and Opinion, Watercolor

Birthday Reflections at 55

October 5th, 2024 – My 55th birthday.

This is the fourteenth entry in my series of annual birthday reflections. Something I started doing shortly after I began my writing journey in the fall of 2011. As I sit here now, drinking coffee on this beautiful fall Saturday morning, it’s hard to believe that I’m exactly half-way through my fifties.

It seems like it was only yesterday I was the youthful teenager driving my pals around in a beat-up 1973 Toyota station wagon, hauling my guitar to lesson every week, going to the Palmer Park Mall on Friday nights after school, pouring millions of dollars worth of quarters from summer lawn mowing money into video game cabinets, having my fill of Orange Julius and wishing I could somehow muster up the courage to go over and talk to the cute girl who was standing with her friends outside of the Listening Booth record store. 

Wasn’t I the one who was able to go to rock concerts and stay up until the wee hours of the morning? Sitting in some dingy downtown diner deep into the night; chain smoking cigarettes, eating french fries smothered in imitation cheese sauce and drinking gallons of coffee. Talking with my friends about our plans to take on the world and make all of our dreams come true. And who could possibly forget singing ̶h̶o̶r̶r̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ beautiful three-part acapella versions of Eagles songs in the parking lot until 2 a.m. until we finally called it a night. Then to get home and lay there alone in the dark, listening to the whirring sound of a portable fan and feeling excited about the possibility of everything we’d just talked about coming true, before finally drifting off to sleep. These days, I’m lucky if I can stay up past 10 p.m.

There’s an odd sense of immortality you have when you’re young that makes you believe time will always stand still. One that pulls you close and then whispers in your ear, telling you that you’ll never be as old as your parents. But then one day you take a nap and unknowingly wake up in their role and realize your parents are gone and time waits for no one. 

To give you some perspective, my father died twenty-seven years ago this month at the age of 51. As of today, my birthday, I’ve outlived him by four years. My mother died in March of 2020, almost five years ago. This year, one of the friends who made those many coffee and cheese fry runs with me has been gone for ten years, and I recently heard the news about another classmate I knew quite well who had passed away unexpectedly.

A few years ago I stumbled upon my Easton Area Middle School student ID card. It was hiding beneath a pile of old knick knacks and memories in the crawl space of my basement. Why I decided to keep it all these years I’ll never know, but seeing it reminded me of the day the teacher handed them out in the fall of 1980. It was the first time I ever received a photo identification card of any kind, and although I didn’t much care for my fresh-faced goofy grin photo on the front, there was something printed on the back of the now worn, laminated card that had immediately caught my attention.

There among my bus route and home room numbers were the words, “YR GRAD-87.” It was the first time I saw the year of my future high school graduation (1987) and the first time I believed it was so very far away. To this shy eleven-year-old boy, seven years seemed like an eternity. The very idea of a youthful me not only seeing the year 1987 but eventually living in the year 2000 and beyond was the equivalent of having a starring role in The Jetsons or a Star Wars movie. It was inconceivable for me to even comprehend living in the space age. My parents were both very much alive at the time as well as both sets of grandparents and all of my classmates and friends. I didn’t have a job, or any roles and responsibilities for that matter, and the only things I looked forward to back in 1980 was Pizza Friday at school, my birthday, Christmas and summer vacation. As far as I was concerned, seven years away could’ve been seven hundred. 

Fast forward and here I am now, sitting on a couch with a scruffy gray beard and a bit thick in the middle, celebrating the double nickel birthday thirty-seven years post high school and twenty-four years beyond the year 2000. It’s mind boggling to think that we’re almost 25% of the way through another century. Back in 1980, I thought I had all the time I’d ever need, and now I often find myself feeling the urge to make the most of the time I have left. 

As many of you know, I suffered a bimalleolar ankle fracture back in February. It was the first time I had ever broken a bone in my life and had to have surgery. One of the worst and scariest things to ever happen to me. I was laid up for what felt like an eternity, so when the doctor finally looked at the x-ray of my healed bones weeks later and told me to get up and walk, the emotion I felt was almost Biblical. I’m so grateful to be back walking, although my ankle does make a point of reminding me nearly every day about what happened. The doctor said it will probably take up to a year before things get back to “normal,” whatever that is. I’m thankful for everyone who took the time to wish me well, bring me over a coffee or mow the lawn while I was laid up in the cast and boot. As a side note I will say that, in addition to the wheel and central air conditioning, the knee scooter is one of the greatest things ever invented by man.

Now that I’m back on two feet let’s finish this birthday post by talking about what’s going on now, in the present day. In addition to continuing to do interviews—hopefully, you’ve read a few of them over the years, I’m still writing and doing watercolor painting. Both of which have been great forms of stress relief. 

I think I may celebrate this day by spending some time at an old-school arcade in Allentown. One targeted to Generation X that still has all of the retro game cabinets. There’s no need to drop quarters into the machines anymore – it’s pay one price for unlimited play, which is a good thing considering I’ve been out of practice for the last forty years. And while I’m being annihilated by the invaders of Galaga and Zaxxon, I’ll reminisce about my friends who’ve moved on as well as the coffee and cheese fries—especially now that I’m eligible for the 55+ discount menu! I’ll also think about the plans and dreams we made that came true, and the ones still left to find.

In the meantime, I hope this day and my next trip around the sun brings all of us a newfound sense of hope, peace and most of all, love. 

Jim

1980's, Art, Dungeons and Dragons, Entertainment, Life, Music

Teacher Teacher

I heard the news about the recent passing of a high school friend at the age of 54 and it made me want to write about school. Or maybe it was because me, being the same age as my friend was when he died, made me consider the fragility of life and just how little time there is. Carpe diem and all.

I don’t know about you, but when I was young all I wanted was the school years to fly by as quickly as possible. And it wasn’t because I already had a plan in mind for the future. I just wanted them gone. As far as I was concerned, every day of school was just another day closer to the weekend and doing whatever I wanted to do, whatever that happened to be – going to the mall, playing Atari or Dungeons & Dragons, throwing a NeRF football around, trying to film a home movie with a Super 8 camera or shopping for comic books.

I think I speak for all of my classmates when I say that most of us never really gave much thought about, or even understood, the real impact school and teachers would have on our lives. So bear with me while I become a child again.

“Sherman, bring out the way back machine and set it to the years 1984-1987.”

I’m in high school again. You know, those crazy, teenage-fueled years of schooling we all went through. Days of trying to find out where we fit in, wondering about college and if that cute girl (or boy, if you’re so inclined) would notice, all while feeling completely inept and socially awkward. There I am, walking down the halls of Easton High School in a nifty pair of Jordache jeans while carrying my English and Science books covered in brown paper grocery bags with the names of hair metal bands scribbled all over them. Listening to Spandau Ballet blaring over the loud speakers of the school’s intercom system. Ok, it’s “True,” I made up the part about Spandau Ballet.

In all of my years at the high school, I don’t remember much about what was learned or about most of my teachers – although my friend Michele has an uncanny ability to recall exactly where I was sitting in history class in proportion to her location. Her memory is sharp, and if that’s the case we’ll have to have a long talk at the next reunion. I have a lot of questions that need answering.

Anyway, although I can’t recall much about most of them, I do remember a trio of teachers during my high school tenure that really impacted my life: Mr. Siddons, Mr. Fox and Mr. Milisits. I won’t even bother to give you their first names because to me, respectively, that’s who they’ll forever be known as. And just like my friend, all three have passed away.

Mr. Siddons was my tenth grade history teacher. His father was one of the last of the old-school door to door salesmen who had sold insurance to my grandparents. He was also my brother’s history teacher two years earlier and my sister’s two years after me. So there’s sort of a familial relationship there too.

Mr. Siddons was probably the most benign person you’d ever meet. He had a soft tone and rarely yelled. But the one trait he had that I’ll never forget was the ability to tell the lamest jokes. You know the ones I mean, something like: “Does anyone know what the father bull said to his son when he went off to college?….. Bison.” And he’d always follow up the joke with a Mr. Siddons chuckle. You could tell he must have been up all night thinking about that joke. About how he’d deliver it and how all the kids would go crazy…. alas that did not happen.

At first his shtick didn’t go over too well with me either. But by the end of that first month of class in 1984, I actually started looking forward to the little gems he’d throw out. Even though most all were met with crickets (and he must have felt like the size of an ant in a room full of elephants) he never let it get to him. He’d always chuckle, wipe his mouth and seque with, “Ok, let’s take a look at the Gulf of Tonkin”….

Strangely enough, every day after having learned about Tonkin, the Volstead Act or some war to end all wars, I remember giggling to myself reciting a joke over and over in my head as I walked out of the room. Surely, a joke I would never utter to anyone else for fear of ridicule.

During my junior and senior years I rarely got down to the part of the school where Mr. Siddons resided. But on the occasion that I did see him in the hall or in the cafeteria he would always say “Hi” and call me by name. He always remembered me, and I’d never forget him.

Let’s transfer over to Mr. Fox in the Art department. A short, grey bearded man with a limp. Mr. Fox had suffered from polio as a child and as a result, walked a bit strangely. Sadly, I’m sure he was the butt of many jokes from cruel students but I think by this point in his life he was immune to it all.

Art class was a means of escape for me. I had always loved to draw and became an aficionado for Bob Ross. I could watch that dude for hours paint a happy little tree. And while we never painted those trees in Mr. Fox’s class it was still a way for me to forget about all the problems happening in my life, at least for one period.

We all knew Mr. Fox must have been an artist himself, and one day I found out one of the things he loved to do. I walked into class to see these miniature models and dioramas of a circus he had constructed himself. Everything from the big top and center ring to the food stands he painstakingly created with his own two hands right down to the finest detail. You could see the pride in his eyes and I thought to myself, “Holy shit, this guy is GOOD!”

But the one day that really stands out for me was when we were all sitting around drawing human figures. We’d have students go up and just stand and model while the rest of us attempted to draw what we saw. I could always draw the body – even the cool detail on their Converse sneakers with rainbow shoe laces, but I could never draw the face. I had spent a long time trying and it just wasn’t happening. Mr. Fox must have seen the frustration on my own face because at one point he came over and sat across from me.

He looked at my piece and, unlike me, seemed quite impressed with it. Then he asked me why I was so frustrated about it. I told him it was because as hard as I tried I could never get the face to be anywhere close to being right. I told him I didn’t want it to be perfect, I just wanted it to look like…. well, a face. So he took a scrap of paper lying nearby and started doodling on it…all the while glancing up at me and saying things like “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jim. You know, if you really want something and are willing to put in the effort and try at it hard enough, you can make it happen.”

For those thirty seconds or so I was more doubtful than ever. Then Mr. Fox slipped the paper he was working on over to me, stood up, patted me on the back and said, “Keep up the good work, Jim.”

As he walked away I picked up the paper he had been scribbling on and looked at it. The old guy with the limp had just drawn a picture perfect image of my face. One where even the subject (in this case, yours truly) would say, “That looks just like me!”

Finally, we move on to the music department, my personal favorite. I could write a novel on my exploits here, including the day I officially became a rock star twenty years ago. Suffice to say, I credit most of my music “success” to the things I learned during the days of high school music theory and choir.

Mr. Milisits (or “M” as he was known) would conduct our high school choir. One that won many awards over the years. I’m sure for many, choir was just like art class – a way to get out of taking another boring subject. But the one thing that anyone who was in his class would tell you, even all of these years later, is that in spite of how much you may not have wanted to be there, M would have a way of making you want to sing.

I remember he would always tell us inspirational things to keep pushing us. Quotes like “You can do this,” “A new mistake shows progress,” and “Talk to me” resonated with everyone. Some of the quotes he even had plastered on the walls so everyone could read them. M just had “something” that made you want to work hard.

During my senior year, it was his teachings that made me want to play guitar in jazz band and the school play. For him to get a scrawny metal head who wanted nothing to do with ANY after school activity and would rather spend most of his free time jamming to Bon Jovi and Def Leppard to want to perform “Leader of the Pack” in the school play and “Jesus Christ, Superstar” in the Spring Concert is really saying something. That M’s got some strong kung-fu.

When it came time to perform, be it at school or when we embarked on a school trip to Canada during my senior year, it was really like “rock star” night for the choir. And well, I even got to play that black heavy metal guitar during our spring concert. One that hangs on the wall in my office right to this very day.

I could bore you for hours on how M’s classes changed me but let me just end by saying those classes are some of the best memories I have from high school.

It’s hard to believe but in just a few weeks it will be the 40th anniversary of when I started high school and first walked those hallowed halls. Days when I thought I’d never get out of there, and here I am now, four decades in the future, looking back and thinking about my classmates.

Time may not slow down but I’m grateful for the good memories and friendships that remain.

1980's, A Conversation With, Books, Entertainment, Interview, Medium, Music, Women Who Rock

‘True Tale of Mista Bone’: Author K.L. Doty Previews New Jack Russell Autobiography

In her new book, “The True Tale of Mista Bone: A Rock and Roll Narrative,” Author K.L. Doty unveils the long-awaited story of the life of vocalist Jack Russell. From his early years as the original front man for American rock band Great White to the band’s subsequent success with its million-selling album, Once Bitten as well as thesubsequent follow-up, Twice Shy, and their infectious cover of the Ian Hunter song, “Once Bitten, Twice Shy,” Russell gives readers an inside look into the glory days and debauchery of eighties hard rock.

Doty’s book, which will be released this summer, also promises to reveal a deeper, more complex story of Russell’s life. One that offers readers a personal and eye-opening account of the singer’s rise, fall, and return to fame following the horrific events of The Station Nightclub fire in February of 2003. In it, Doty helps to uncover Russell’s creative and enduring spirit, one showcased both in and outside of the spotlight.

I recently spoke with K.L. Doty about Jack Russell’s upcoming autobiography and more in this new interview.

How did you and Jack Russell connect?

My husband, Chip Z’Nuff is in a band Enuff Z’Nuff. They’ve been around since the eighties and still actively tour. I helped sell merchandise on the road for Enuff Z’Nuff for a long time and Jack Russell’s Great White was one of the bands that Chip toured with. That’s how I met him.

How did this project come about?

I had been approached several times over the course of a few years by Robby Lochner, who is Jack’s guitarist. I said no every time because even then I knew how much work was going to be involved. Then In September of 2020 I was asked again. At the time, I had just finished almost two years of study to become a wardrobe stylist through the New York University of Art and Science. I still wasn’t interested in taking on so much work but went to bed and literally woke up in the middle of the night thinking, “I have to do this.” That’s how it all started.

What was the writing process like?

People often ask me what my biggest advice for writing a book is, and it’s always “Don’t do it!” [laughs]. You start off with stars in your eyes but the longer you go the stars can start to dim, because it’s a lot of information. And it’s not like I was writing some cute little fairy tale from my own brain. I was writing someone else’s story and it was all true. So if someone tells me something, even if it was just a single sentence that contained a few facts, I would have to go and fact check with multiple sources. It can be hard to corral the information and still create a cohesive story. I had to learn to be organized and do whatever I could to seek out the information I needed.

What were some of the other challenges you faced during?

I didn’t realize I would be giving up as much as I did, including spending time on the road with my husband. I was working with other people’s schedules and had to put personal relationships on hold because this book had to be first. The whole process took four years in total and I spent the first two years interviewing Jack a few times a week for about an hour and half. It was all recorded and there was so much to transcribe. My goal was to get the general idea of things and then make it sound the best that I could. I received the first copy recently. It didn’t become real until I actually held it in my hands. That’s when it sunk in that this heavy thing I was holding; something that you could open up and look through, actually existed!

Did Jack share any fun “rock and roll” stories with you?

Oh, he had a lot of those. Little anecdotes, like when he was on tour with Judas Priest and they trashed the hotel room and threw everything out into the pool. It was one of the first times the band had been on the road and they wound up having to pay out a lot of money.

K.L. Doty – Photo by Jamie Benjamin

Jack says “I’m sorry” quite a bit when discussing the events of The Station Nightclub fire. How did you approach talking to him about such a difficult subject?

It was a heavy thing to have myself go through as a writer and I was very cautious talking about certain things. Jack says “I’m sorry” in the book because, legally, he wasn’t allowed to say it during the trial, because doing so would be considered an admission of guilt. This is the first time he gets to speak out on that.

Can you tell me a little about your background and how it helped shape you into who you are today?

I come from a very whimsical family and grew up around a lot of influential people in rock and roll and Hollywood. Growing up, my grandmother would host these incredible parties where random celebrities would just show up. I knew one day I wanted to be just like that — to host parties with people like that. When I was sixteen, I’d lie to get out of going to school by telling them I was sick or on a family vacation, and then I’d tell my parents that I was going on a field trip. Then I’d go to venues with these rock bands where I would just be there and interview them. Times were different then, but I’d show up and say I was so and so and I was writing articles for this or that magazine. Being female, it was inevitable that I was going to be labeled a groupie, so people looked at it the wrong way. But my main goal was to learn more about the industry.

Are there any other projects you’re currently working on right now?

I have a record that should be coming out by the end of the year. If you ask me how I would describe it, I’d say it’s what would happen if Norah Jones were to do a record with Alice Cooper, Nine Inch Nails and Beethoven. I like to give the sound the imaginary title of phantasmagoric pop. I like very soft, ghostly elements but I don’t mind the industrial drive in the bass. I’m also focusing on boxing right now. It’s something I didn’t know was in me but I really don’t mind hitting hard. We’ll see where it takes me.

Is there a message you’d like people to take away from reading the book?

I want them to take away the beauty of words. The story aside, I wrote this book in such a way where, even under the most horrible of events or feelings, it makes you feel like you’re eating something delicious. Adjectives, synonyms and what have you, it’s a beautiful little puzzle piece. My goal was to take all of the best words and put them in the right order to make a true story taste as incredible as it sounds.

The True Tale of Mista Bone: A Rock + Roll Narrative will be released this summer.

1980's, A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Taking Heart: Nancy Wilson bringing solo act to Wind Creek Event Center

Nancy Wilson is celebrated as one of the most inspiring and trailblazing women in rock history. Together with her sister, Ann Wilson, they comprise the multi-platinum, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame band, Heart. Nancy’s revered as a guitarist, vocalist and co-writer on songs that have become staples of classic rock playlists, including “Crazy On You,” “Barracuda,” “Even It Up,” and “These Dreams.”

In addition to having sold upwards of 35 million albums in their five-decade career, Nancy and Ann recently received a Lifetime Achievement Grammy for their contributions to the world of music.

In 2021, Nancy Wilson released her debut solo album, You And Me. It’s an indelible collection of songs that includes a tribute to her mother and Edward Van-Halen as well as a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “The Rising.”

On Sunday, Wilson will bring her catalog of Heart hits along with a few surprises when her solo band, Nancy Wilson’s Heart, performs at the Wind Creek Event Center in Bethlehem.

I recently spoke with Wilson about her upcoming performance in this exclusive new interview.

Q. What can fans expect from your upcoming performance at Wind Creek Event Center?

Wilson: We’ll be doing a lot of memorable Heart songs because they’re fun to do and we’re happy to do them. We’re also adding a few surprises and more cool, hip material that people know and love.

Q. Heart has a such a vast catalog of hits. How do you determine which songs you want to include in the set?

Wilson: There are the obvious ones, like “Crazy On You,” “Barracuda,” “These Dreams” and “Even it Up,” that have to be there. But there’s also a few songs from Van Halen and [Led] Zeppelin I’ve always wanted to play that are exciting and keeps things fun. We have a really good band and our singer, Kimberly Nichole (or Kim Nicky), brings a power and energy in such a graceful way. She touches people with her voice. We’re a tight, fighting unit that’s ready to rock.

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Nancy Wilson by Clicking Here.

1980's, A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Christopher Cross sailing into Easton’s State Theatre with his signature sound
Photo: Max Crace

When singer-songwriter Christopher Cross unveiled his self-titled debut album in 1980, little did he know the impact it would have. With hits like “Ride Like The Wind,” “Sailing,” and “Never Be The Same,” the album went on to win five Grammy awards in 1981, including earning Cross the coveted Best New Artist and Album of The Year awards. A year later, Cross followed that success with an Academy Award win for Best Original Song with “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do),” from the movie, “Arthur.”

In the years since, Cross has released more than a dozen acclaimed albums, from 1983’s “Another Page” and hits like “All Right,” and “Think of Laura,” to recent albums like 2018’s “Take Me As I Am” and a limited-edition box set retrospective aptly titled “The Complete Works,” which celebrates his 40th anniversary as a recording artist.

On Tuesday, Cross will bring his signature sound and legacy of carefully crafted songs to an intimate performance at the State Theatre in Easton. Joining Cross that evening will be renowned Moody Blues guitarist and lead vocalist, Justin Hayward, who will be performing a selection of his own classic hits.

I recently spoke with Cross about his upcoming performance and more in this new interview:

Q. What can fans expect during your performance at The State Theatre?

Christopher Cross: I’m a singer-songwriter so for me it’s all about the songs and playing them for the fans. One thing about the show is that there are no tracks. I have an amazing group of musicians with me who are jazz trained and very high-level players and singers. It’s a sophisticated, high-production show as far as the music goes. I’ll be playing most of the first and second album and the hits that people know. I’ve made 12 albums over the years so I’ll also be playing selections from the other albums as well. This is our first time out this year and we’re really excited.

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Christopher Cross by Clicking Here!

1980's, Childhood Memories, Life, Music

A Letter To M

Dear M,

I hope this letter finds you well. I was having a bit of trouble trying to find the right words to say as I wrote it. It’s not every day you try to put into words just how much an old high school teacher means to you. Yeah, I know, it’s been more than thirty-five years since I was a student walking those hallowed halls but believe it or not, you’re still the first person who comes to mind whenever I think about my high school experience.

Back then, you had a saying you liked to use whenever someone was having a problem. Whether it was something as simple as a homework assignment, peer pressure, or even trouble at home, whenever someone was having an issue, you’d pull that person aside and say, “Talk to me.”  Those three words became your mantra, and I guess in a way that’s what I’m doing now, talking to you.

I never told you this before, but you played a huge role during the most fragile and formative years of my young life. Like so many other teenagers trying to find their place in the world, I didn’t fit in well in high school, but your choir class was the one place I could go where I felt like I completely belonged. You taught me how to sing and how to release the song from inside my soul. Most of all, you made me feel valued.

I remember the awkward feeling I had walking into your music room every morning and seeing you surrounded by a gaggle of students. All of them eagerly asking you questions about last night’s music theory assignment or trying to get your opinion on a selected piece of music they chose for their district chorus audition. You seemed like a celebrity and the class was your fanbase. Sometimes I had questions of my own to ask but was too shy to do so. It wouldn’t be until after class had ended that I’d pull you side and tell you about my interest in majoring in music at the same state college as you.

I hadn’t seen you since the night of my graduation in 1987. If I’m being honest, I also hadn’t given you much thought at all, that is until almost two decades later when someone told me about the adult choir you were directing once a week in a chapel on the far side of town. This was shortly after you’d retired from teaching, and long after I’d given up on my own dream of becoming a professional musician. 

Call it nostalgia but I had an urge, a tickle in my stomach of wanting to be part of something special. By then, I’d already had a family of my own and was long established in a busy career in information technology. Something like the prospect of singing in a choir with you seemed too good to be true, but regardless of any scheduling concerns, I needed to make time, if only for myself.

I still remember the familiar feeling of awkwardness when I walked into church that night for that first rehearsal. As usual, you were already in conversation with a few people and didn’t see me approaching. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. Part of me wanted to turn and run, not because I wasn’t sure of what to say, but because I’d already started second guessing myself again. It had been years since I’d sung in a choir. Would I even know what to do?

I also wondered if you’d even remember me. I was one of thousands of students you had taught over your thirty-three-year teaching career. It had been decades and the skinny, introverted, long-haired student who once sat before you in the corner of the room was now a full-blown middle-aged man. Less hair on his head and, sadly, a bit thicker in the middle. Somehow, I was able to muster up the courage and nervously tapped my hand on your shoulder. 

“Hello, M” I said, meekly. “Do you remember me?”

I will never forget the look of joy on your face when you turned around and saw me standing there. It was as if the Prodigal Son, who had been through the confusion of life and adult responsibility, had suddenly found his way back home. Here I was, once again the fragile student now stuck in an adult body, and there you were, still carrying the age and wisdom of years just like me, but with the same wit and energy I loved while sitting in your music theory classes. 

“Oh my gosh!” you exclaimed as you shook my hand, firmly. “It’s been a long time.”

You told me to call you “Ed” that night because your name was Ed Milisits and we were now both adults. I did but truthfully didn’t want to. That bond of teacher-student was still very strong. For me, and I think for most everyone who ever had the pleasure of being one of your students, you were known as a single letter of the alphabet: 

“M.”

I spent the next ten years spending Tuesday nights in the choir under your direction. One year, I mustered up the courage to suggest a piece of music to do that we performed my senior year of high school. You were excited about the possibility but let me know that it was a bit of a long-shot because approval was needed by the music committee. It took a few more years but one morning, ironically thirty years after last performing the piece in high school, I received an email from you: 

“Thought you’d be interested to know that ‘Os Justi’ is on the Winter program list! We WIN!”

When the pandemic hit in 2020 and the world shut down, the choir went on hiatus. It was also a time when I was going through a lot of personal issues and you were facing your own challenges as well. Ones that made mine look small in comparison. Although I did email quite a few times to see how you were, I always respected your need for privacy. 

It’s hard to believe that today makes a full a year that you’ve been gone. Sometimes I’ll see a post pop up in my Facebook memories and read your comments about it. That will, inevitably, get me to thinking about you and our conversations in the high school choir room or the adult choir rehearsal hall. It puts a smile on my face but I wish there was a chance to have one more conversation with you. Until then, I suppose this one-sided letter will have to do. Someday, God-willing, I’ll have the honor of sitting in your choir again.

M, just know that you are missed dearly, not just by me but by the generations of people who had the pleasure of sitting in one of your classrooms or choirs. You taught us to believe in ourselves, to laugh and, most importantly, to raise our voices in song. 

Rest Easy.

Sincerely,

James Wood (Class of 1987)

1980's, Art, Dreams, Entertainment, Life, Music

Top Five Things of 2022

It’s sometimes hard to believe that we’re at the end of another year, let alone that we’re in the third decade of the 21st century. I still remember when I got my very first laminated school identification card back in September of 1981. On the back of it was a sticker that listed the year of what would be my high school graduation – 1987.

I remember staring at that card for a long time thinking about 1987 and, even though it was only six years, how far away it seemed to be. For some perspective – this past year, 2022, I attended my 35th high school reunion.

A lot has happened over the course of these last twelve months. I’d like to spend these next few minutes giving you a list of my top five events of 2022.

#5 – The Loss of Favorite Teachers. Hey, I never said this list was going to only contain good things. Not only did 2022 mark the 25th anniversary of the death of my father, it was also the year I said goodbye to two of my favorite teachers. First was my favorite teacher in all of my schooling; my high school music theory and choir teacher, Edward Milisits, who died on January 8th. I could easily write an entire book on how Mr. M and his classes affected my life. His influence was so popular that after his retirement from 30+ years of teaching, generations of former students (now adults) signed up to sing in his choir.

Then there’s my third grade teacher, Mrs. Tanzella, who passed away in November. Although I don’t have much recollection of her after I left the halls of Porter Elementary, I’ll never forget the day my brother and I rode on a float the Cub Scouts had made during our town’s annual Halloween parade. I had told Mrs. Tanzella how nervous and scared I was about riding and waving to people. As the route began and we made our way through town, I heard a woman’s voice calling my name. I looked and saw that it was Mrs. Tanzella, briskly walking behind the float; waving to me with a huge smile on her face. Seeing her put me at ease.

These days I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, but 45 years later, I can still remember her doing that for me.

#4 – This one actually dates back to one year ago today, December 31st, 2021. The day I adopted Merlot, or Merle as he is known in my home. He had been part of a hoarding situation and I gave him a second chance at life. It took him nearly five days into 2022 to come out from under the bed. Today, he is my buddy.

#3 – Painting Holiday Watercolor Cards. As most of you know, I regularly watercolor. Most of them are 9×12 in size. For Christmas this year I was asked to paint a few 5×7 postcards to use as Christmas cards. I started out thinking I would only do a half dozen or so. Instead, I wound up doing 60 of them. I’m happy to say that, like Merle, all of the cards now have happy homes. Take a peek at them below:

https://videopress.com/v/3k0PgtWm?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true
#2 – Interviewing Barry Manilow. This one is surreal and sad because when I was growing up, my mother would play Barry Manilow records non-stop. There was hardly a day when I would come home from school and not hear “Mandy,” “Weekend in New England,” or “Copacabana” playing on the stereo. My mom loved Barry Manilow. And even though we’d always tell her that we believed he was gay (turns out, he was) she claimed he wasn’t and would have left my dad to be with him. In September of this year, I actually got to interview him. I placed a photograph of my mom next to me and looked at it as I spoke to Barry. I even told him the story about how much his music meant to my mom. I was sad that she wasn’t there to experience that moment with me. She would have lost her mind.

#1 Graduating from College – It was a journey that actually began after graduating high school. It was August of 1987 when I entered college thinking I’d become a music teacher. The road would lead me to Penn State, Northampton Community College and West Chester University. All fizzled out and in 1990, I reluctantly entered the work force. When Covid struck in 2020 and we couldn’t go anywhere, I decided to gather all of my transcripts and see what, if anything, I could get. I was told that if I passed five courses I would receive an Associates Degree in General Studies. The quest began, and over the next year and a half I took Environmental Science, English II, Geology, Developmental Psychology and Nature of Mathematics, In May of 2022 I passed my last final and became an honors college graduate almost 35 years to the day after graduating high school. Framing the degree and putting it on my wall was the biggest accomplishment of all for me.

So, another year is about to pass. Along the way there have been a few ups & downs. Some days to remember, and some days to forget. But there’s a New Year ahead and new dreams to collect. So, I wish you one that’s full of health, contentment and most of all….love. Here’s to 2023.

Happy New Year.