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.

A Conversation With, comedy, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Comedian Jessica Delfino brings ‘dirty folk rock’ to Poconos
Photo: Alex M. Smith

Hailing from a small New England town, comedian Jessica Delfino grew up listening to folk music legends like Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Young and the acoustic-fueled rock of Bob Seger and Led Zeppelin. Add in a touch of rap like The Beastie Boys and Snoop Dogg as well as the jokes she inherited from her sailor grandfather, and you’ve got the recipe for “Dirty Folk Rock,” the signature style that Delfino has made her own.


Delfino’s raunchy, sex-fueled comedic stylings are somewhat reminiscent of Nikki Glaser, whom Delfino often shared the stage with while honing her chops in New York’s comedy scene. She’s a critically acclaimed observational comedian with credits that include appearances around the world, and on Saturday, Delfino will bring her unique brand of comedy and music to Poconos Underground Comedy at The Hideaway Speakeasy, part of Newberry’s Yard of Ale in Stroudsburg.

I recently spoke with Delfino about her upcoming performance and more in this new interview.

Q. What can you tell me about Poconos Underground Comedy?

Jessica Delfino: Poconos Underground Comedy is mostly a showcase of comedians who’ve decided to schlep out to the Poconos to entertain people who used to be New Yorkers who now “hate New Yorkers” [laughs]. People can expect to laugh, drink fancy cocktails and have some pizazz with their comedy. The show is different, but don’t get me wrong. There’s classic stand up but there’s also a lot of sparkles. It’s not for the faint of heart, it’s a show for the bold and the beautiful. My show production partner, Boris Khakin (also a comedian) and I take turns hosting. He brings the dude energy and I bring the girl magic.

Q. How would you describe your style? Can you put into words what your comedy/music is all about?

My style is “dirty folk rock” comedy and jokes that reflect that style. I like to swear, talk about sex, gross people out a little and ultimately, I love to make people laugh. I make jokes about things that lots of other comedians do: life, love, and the challenges that come with those things, but obviously my take is from a female middle-aged mom perspective who likes to do things my own way. I love weird words and I love that I’m a little different. It took me some time to understand that about myself but now that I do it’s like my superpower. As Frank Sinatra famously sang, “I gotta be me.”

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Jessica Delfino by clicking here.

Life, Stories and Writing Prompts, Thought and Opinion

Remembering My Pap

August 13th, 1984. A day I will always remember, and one that I’ll now mark on today’s 40th anniversary.

My story about Pap (Willard Z. Appleman or “Woody,” or “Brother Will,” as he was known to most grown ups) isn’t one of your usual “grandfather takes grandson fishing” types. In fact, for all intents and purposes, I really only had that kind of a bonding relationship with Pap for the first five years of my life. And even then fishing wasn’t one of the things we did. In fact, there was only one activity I remember vividly, but more on that in a moment.

When I was born in October of 1969, my family had been living with my grandparents in their small turn of the century house on the south side of Easton. Pap had already been working as a dyer in a silk mill for many years, although I was too young to remember him ever going off to work. To me, my Pap was just too good to be employed by someone else. In fact, the only way I found out he even had a real job at all was by reading his obituary when I was a teenager. But even though he too worked for “the man” that didn’t diminish his “superhero” persona to me.

Pap was one of those meticulous types who loved to take care of his yard. If he wasn’t chopping down some tree or weeding he was mowing the few acres of land he had. All with one of those old school hand mowers. I can still imagine him taking an entire Sunday to do yard work every week in the summer, and this after having worked a full week in the mill. I have no doubt he enjoyed every minute of it.

When I was five and could actually start remembering the time we spent together, Pap often asked me to take a ride with him down to the Seiple Hardware store across town. I’d immediately drop my Hot Wheels cars and run outside to jump in the front seat of his green Rambler.

Those drives are what I remember most about my days with Pap. It seemed like we’d be driving for hours to get where we were going, but in reality the hardware store was only about a few miles away. Youth has a way of making good times seem to last forever.

I don’t have any fun tales about what we talked about on the ride, although I certainly wish I did. It was just me driving to Seiple Hardware with my Pap. The drive was the only thing I remember, but that was good enough for me.

From what I was told growing up, in addition to being my grandfather, Pap was also a scientist. I heard many stories from my great aunts and uncles about how he used to cross-pollinate azalea plants and make a new variety, or even how he invented a cure for baldness that really worked. Looking back now, I wish he would have passed the recipe down to me.

About the only thing I didn’t like about living with Pap was his dog – the most obnoxious chihuahua you’d ever want to meet. His name was Butchie and all he did was growl if you came within ten feet of Pap, but Pap loved the hell out of him.The dog was loyal to him, hated everyone else and had no problem showing it. I still cringe to this day when I think about that hell hound.

In 1975, around the time of his 65th birthday, Pap suffered a major stroke. Suddenly, the man who had worked tirelessly all his life and was getting ready to retire was unable to walk on his own or feel anything on his left side. It just didn’t seem fair and as a 5 year old boy, I couldn’t understand why something so bad could happen to my Pap. Especially because I just thought Pap went to the hospital for a checkup and would be home soon. At least that’s what I had been told.

When Pap did come home he obviously wasn’t the same. He couldn’t walk on his own or talk anymore. Anything he said sounded like something a baby might say. When I first saw him come through the door in a wheel chair with my grandmother pushing him I knew right away the days of riding shotgun in his Rambler to the hardware store were over. And to add insult to injury shortly after Pap came home, Butchie suddenly died. It was as if he knew that his master would never be the same.

Over the next nine years we all adjusted to Pap being… well, Pap. He would spend most days sitting upstairs in the parlor watching TV with my grandmother. At mid day my grandmother would help him walk back to his bed to take a nap and afterwards, right back for more TV.

If he ever needed something when someone wasn’t sitting with him, he had a bell he’d ring to alert us or he’d yell out and someone would come tend to his needs which frequently, became the need to help him light his cigars.

One of the things I always admired about Pap was his artistic ability. I had seen quite a few oil paintings he had done over the course of many years. Sadly, the paints were put away permanently by the stroke but yet he was able to find another outlet for his love of art. He always liked to draw horses with his bum hand. 

I have to admit, in the beginning they looked like something someone from kindergarten would draw and rightly so. Pap pretty much had to learn how to do everything all over again. But soon enough the drawings became more defined and we loved to watch him create his masterpieces.

Pap’s oil painting (above) and my watercolor impression of it.

Every summer we would have a big picnic on the patio. Relatives from all over would gather and we would wheel Pap down to enjoy the company. And Christmases were just as fun as we’d put up our fake tree in the parlor with Pap being the architect of the project.

He would sit there and tell us when a ball looked out of place or if the garland wasn’t running just right. You couldn’t understand a word he said but we always knew what he meant. Good times.

By early 1984 his condition began to worsen. My grandmother’s advancement in age would no longer allow for her to take care of him alone so inevitably, Pap went into a nursing home. On August 13th of that year he passed away at the age of 74.  With his passing my grandmother lost her husband of 51 years and I lost my Pap. Sadly though, the worst was still to come.

A few days later we went to Pap’s funeral services. I could not tell you what was said or who all was there. Pap had many friends and relatives I had never met. He was also going by nicknames like “Woody” and “Brother Will” and I was confused as to who called him what. To me, he was always Pap.

Then the time came to say the final goodbye and I think you know the one I mean. The one where you file past the deceased, out of the room and the casket is closed for good. I thought I would make it out unscathed. I had relatives die before and never thought much about it. Then again, I never went to any funerals either. Even one of my great aunts died around the same time Pap suffered his stroke but I was too young to even bat an eye. But just as I was leaving I watched my grandmother fall to pieces.

She was sobbing over the casket and saying how much she was going to miss him and that’s when it really hit me. The tears began to flow and I suddenly realized how much I was going to miss him too. That day still haunts me.

I’m sitting here this morning drinking my coffee as a 54 year old man and still finding it hard to believe that it’s been forty years since he left this world. So I decided to take a look at one of the old family photo albums I have.

While reminiscing about Pap I stumbled upon his obituary from the newspaper clipping we had saved. I’ve probably read it dozens of times over the years but after reading it this time, a smile actually came across my face.

The date of Pap’s funeral service, my grandmother’s breakdown over the casket and me crying my eyes out and saying goodbye was August 16th, 1984. Seventeen years to the day after that horrible event, my daughter was born.

Coincidence? I’m not so sure.

God bless you, Pap. I know that whereever you are God has you taking care of his yard. Whenever I see azaleas I always think of you and still miss you terribly.

Oh, and if there’s any way you can send a message from the great beyond, I could still REALLY use that cure for male pattern baldness.

Books, Childhood Memories, Life, Thought and Opinion

The Little House Prophecy

Author Virginia Lee Burton died in 1969, the same year I was born. I think I was in second grade when the librarian at my elementary school first read us her Caldecott Medal-winning book, “The Little House.” A story the author said was based on her family’s own little house which they moved from the street into a field of daises with apple trees growing around.

The story centers on a house that was built at the top of a small hill, far out in the country. Her builder decrees that she “may never be sold for gold or silver”, but is built sturdy enough to one day see generations of his heirs living in her. The house watches the seasons pass, and wonders about the lights of the city, which grow ever closer. The years slowly pass.

Then one day a road is built in front of the house. This is soon followed by gas stations and more houses, which are eventually replaced by apartment buildings, an elevated railroad and skyscrapers. Now rundown and finding herself standing in a large city, the house is sad because she misses being on the small hill in the countryside

One day one of the heirs of the builder sees the house and remembers stories that her grandmother told about living in it. She arranges to have the house moved out of the city and back to a hill in the country where she can live happily ever after.

I remembered being enthralled with the story. How roads, food stands, cool cars and trains would be right outside your front door! How naive I was.

Burton denied “The Little House” was a critique of urban sprawl and instead wished to convey the passage of time to younger readers. Personally, I think, perhaps prophetically, it was both. Hear me out:

About a mile from my Pennsylvania home there once stood an eighteenth century farmhouse. A home with a deed dating back to William Penn. A home which stood on the exact same spot of land for more than 300 years where it overlooked acres upon acres of rich farmland.

One day a developer decided he wanted to build a massive industrial warehouse on the exact same land where the little house stood. But rather than demolish it, the developer decided to uproot the house and move her hundreds of yards away in order to build a warehouse next to it. A warehouse that is surrounded by other warehouses, including an Amazon fulfillment center. A warehouse that will most likely remain half occupied. This is what you call progress?

You can read more about it here.

This 18th century farm house (circled) once stood where this warehouse is currently being constructed.
The Little House

Virginia Burton wasn’t just an author, she was a prophet.

A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Toad the Wet Sprocket coming to Wind Creek Event Center with Gin Blossoms, Vertical Horizon
Photo: Chris Orwig

Toad the Wet Sprocket, with its trio of founding members Glen Phillips, Todd Nichols and Dean Dinning, is still making music and touring with the same unwavering spirit of independence that made them one of the most seminal bands of the 1990s.

Toad’s third album, Fear, still ranks big on any ’90s playlist and songs like “All I Want,” and “Walk on the Ocean,” catapulted the band from college campus soundtracks to radio rotation royalty. Their music also found its way onto popular ’90s TV shows like “Friends,” “Dawson’s Creek,” and “Buffy The Vampire Slayer.”

The band took a break in the late ’90s but reunited in 2006 and has since released two albums, including 2021’s Starting Now.

Toad the Wet Sprocket is currently part of a tour that includes themselves as well as Gin Blossoms and Vertical Horizon. It’s a show that stops at the Wind Creek Event Center on Thursday, Aug. 15.

I recently spoke with bassist Dean Dinning about the show, what makes Toad the Wet Sprocket’s music so timeless all these years later and more in this new interview.

Q. Can you tell a little about the inspiration behind this tour and what fans can expect?

Dean Dinning: I used to go to concerts in Santa Barbara [California] where you would see two or three bands playing and it always seemed like everyone was friends and would come out and jam on each other’s songs. I always thought that was the most fun thing you could possibly do, and that’s really what this tour is like. These guys are all friends of ours. We’ve known the Gin Blossoms since 1992. They were the first band we ever got to pick to be an opener for our whole tour. It will be a fun vibe and I think people will really enjoy it.

You can read the rest of my interview with Dean Dinning by clicking here.

A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Gin Blossoms’ Jesse Valenzuela previews Wind Creek performance
Photo: David “Doc” Abbott

It was a great catalog of songs and the slow burn of touring perseverance that catapulted alt-rock band Gin Blossoms from the ranks of indie circuit into the ’90s musical mainstream.

Although it didn’t happen overnight, it was their infectiously good 1992 sophomore album, New Miserable Experience, and songs like “Found Out About You,” “Hey Jealousy,” “Until I Fall Away,” and “Allison Road,” that eventually became staples of ’90s radio and firmly established the group as one of the decade’s most definitive acts.

Fans of the Gin Blossoms — which features Robin Wilson (lead vocals / acoustic guitar), Jesse Valenzuela (vocals and guitar), Scott Johnson (guitar), Scott Hessel (drums), and Bill Leen (bass), can expect to hear all of the hits and more when the band performs with fellow ’90s rockers Toad The Wet Sprocket and Vertical Horizon at Wind Creek Event Center on Thursday, Aug. 15.

I recently spoke with guitarist Jesse Valenzuela about the show, career highlights — including the time he worked with Stevie Nicks, new music and more in this new interview.

Q. What was it about the ’90s era of music that keeps fans coming back?

Jesse Valenzuela: It was a terrific time for music and we were lucky to get some attention from radio. Toad [The Wet Sprocket] was so gracious and took us out on the road and showed us the ropes. Whenever we get to be together with them now, it’s always great fun. I have a real affection for those guys. Today we’re fortunate that we have a bunch of hit songs and this show will be long enough for you to hear all of them. We’re going to play all the hits and other songs people have heard and make sure everyone enjoys themselves. I love the Wind Creek venue. We’ve been there quite often over the years. This tour is just starting and the bands we’re touring with, Toad The Wet Sprocket and Vertical Horizon, are terrific. Everyone is playing so beautifully and firing on all cylinders.

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Jesse Valenzuela by clicking here.

Dreams, Entertainment, Life, Music, Summer

Rock Star Moment: That Time I Played Musikfest
Me – August 6th, 2004

Even though it happened twenty years ago today, it still feels like it was yesterday.

I was standing alone in my upstairs bathroom. Just an introverted thirty-four-year-old man looking at himself in the mirror — and shaking like a leaf. It was 3 p.m. and very soon I’d have to muster up the courage to get in my 2001 Ford Focus and drive over to South Bethlehem for sound check.

August 6th, 2004 is a day I will NEVER forget.

I suppose it’s best to give you a little bit of the back story before I continue on with this tale of one of my greatest memories. So here goes:

From the day I first picked up my grandmother’s hand-held tomato slicer as a seven-year-old boy, pretended it was a guitar and did my best Ace Frehley interpretation, it’s been my dream – shredding my guitar (not tomatoes) on a huge stage while staring out into a sea of people. And so began the pre-Internet days of callused fingers, long walks downtown to the music store for weekly lessons and countless hours spent practicing Mel Bay scales and Metal Method mail-order licks.

Unfortunately, my newfound interest in music, repetitive practice and Les Paul guitars also brought with it the constant torment and ridicule from my siblings and their friends. Many of whom did not mince words when they told me that what I was doing would never amount to anything. But rather than wallow in denial and self-pity, their words only served to reinforce my passion.

So while other kids of the MTV generation hung out with friends after school tossing a Nerf football or playing Atari, I spent most afternoons trying to figure out how Eddie Van-Halen got his Kung-Fu. I was so sure of what the future held for me that I even wrote entries into my journal describing all of the lavish purchases I would make and all of things that were going to happen to me after I had officially “made it” as a rock star.

— on a side note, I’m still waiting for the hordes of beautiful women to chase me down the streets of New York City. Get with the program, ladies.

Yes, I had dreamed about that rock star moment for twenty years…. and suddenly, TODAY of all days, the wait was finally going to be over.

On August 6th, 2004, our band was going to be the opening act for Clay Aiken at Musikfest – on the biggest stage of them all! Yes, THE Clay Aiken!

OK, before you start giggling uncontrollably, remember this. Clay Aiken had just placed second in season two of American Idol and was almost on the same level as Justin Bieber at the height of his fame. That is to say, people were going absolutely bonkers for him. At the time, it was the fastest sellout in the festival’s history (6,000+ people) and we had the greatest singer ever in our arsenal, who’s soaring vocals had gotten us the gig.

News from the day – August 6th, 2004 (SOLD OUT)

And yet here I was, standing in the bathroom trying to keep from hurling my lunch. A complete nervous wreck! 

To this day, I’m not sure how I held it all together. Somehow, my “Rock Star Moment” was here, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away. Grabbing my Les Paul and a blue-flamed doo rag, I slowly made the pilgrimage to Bethlehem.

The rest of that evening was a bit of a whirlwind for me. There was time spent setting up gear in front of the stage, testing guitar levels and watching the thousands of people standing in line waiting to get in. Then there was the anticipation of going out there and feeling a rush no drug could ever deliver.

The crowd – Musikfest August 6th, 2004

Prior to August 6th, the most people I had ever played for was maybe 50 in some smoky bar at two in the morning. And even though I was fully aware that the audience wasn’t there to see us, I got to taste the experience of walking out on stage in front of six-thousand people for thirty minutes!! Finally looking out, instead of always looking in.

I liked what I saw.

Led Foot at Musikfest – August 6th, 2004

I’ve never had that kind of experience since and most likely never will again, but it doesn’t even matter. It was the love of music, a lot of hard work, and a little bit of luck that the cosmos aligned that particular summer night – and it was the beginning of a special journey we would all share together as a band. That experience also transitioned into one of my favorite quotes I still use to this day:

“Every once in a great while the universe tilts in your direction. You better be ready.”

As a seven-year-old boy imitating his guitar hero on a vegetable slicer it seemed like such a far away dream. But just the idea of having a dream – no matter how small it might be or how long it takes you to achieve, is something that doesn’t fade after the music stops and the lights go out. It’s only then that you realize that dreams do indeed come true, and the magic of the dream becomes a part of you forever. You just have to be ready.

On August 6th, 2004, twenty years ago today, I was ready – and that magic became a part of me.

To Heather, Todd, Kevin and Rick…. We did it, baby!

A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons promises a rockin’ show at Musikfest
Credit: Blain Clausen

It’s kind of hard to believe, but that little ol’ band from Texas, ZZ Top, has been delivering their infectiously rowdy brand of blues, rock and boogie to legions of fans since man first walked on the moon.

The band has become a fixture of classic rock radio with songs like “Sharp Dressed Man,” “Legs,” “Gimme All Your Lovin’,” and (of course) “La Grange.” All of which instantly conjure up images of long beards, sunglasses, hot rods and guitar riffs.

For more than 50 years the lineup of ZZ Top — Billy Gibbons (guitars), Dusty Hill (bass) and Frank Beard (drums), remained unchanged. Selling millions of albums, touring the world and introducing us all to music videos containing spinning guitars and fast cars with magical keychains. It wasn’t until Hill’s passing in 2021 that the band called up Hill’s long time bass tech, Elwood Francis, to hold up the bottom end and keep their musical legacy flowing.

Fans can certainly expect to hear a plethora of songs from the band’s more than half-century of hits and more when ZZ Top closes out this year’s Musikfest with a performance at the Wind Creek Steel Stage at PNC Plaza on Sunday, Aug. 11.

I recently spoke with Billy Gibbons about the band’s upcoming performance at Musikfest, its legacy, music and more in this new interview.

Q. This year marks the band’s 55th anniversary (coincidentally, the same age as this writer). When you look back on this milestone now with so much perspective what thoughts come to mind?

Billy Gibbons: We’re a band aiming to keep on keepin’ on as we genuinely like what it is we get to do. One of the true highlights of the experience was revealed when we heard ZZ over the radio airwaves for the first time. Then again, our induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Keith Richards delivering the honors also stands as a night to remember. We’re stoked that we continue getting to do what we do! The night-to-night intention is, ‘Have mercy! Let’s keep doing it!’

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Billy Gibbons by Clicking Here.

A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music

Bigfoot at Musikfest? Saxsquatch to bring the party in free shows

Although you’ve never seen saxophonists Dean Mitchell and Saxsquatch in a room at the same time, it’s safe to say that the beast might have learned a thing or two from his human musical counterpart.

Saxsquatch began his career by posting videos of himself performing on social media; one of which, his smooth cover of Daft Punk’s song, “One More Time,” instantly went viral with
nearly 3 million views.

After years and thousands of unconfirmed sightings and unsuccessful attempts by man to prove his family’s existence, it was Saxsquatch’s newly found notoriety that ultimately drew the cryptid out of the forest and onto the national scene, much to the delight of music fans everywhere.

It’s a journey that will bring Saxsquatch to Musikfest on Monday, Aug. 5 for two shows at 7 and 8:45 p.m., and Tuesday, Aug. 6 at 7 and 9 p.m. All shows will be held at the Highmark Blue Shield Community Stage.

I recently spoke with Saxsquatch and asked him about the mythos, music and monster as well as what fans can expect from his Musikfest appearances in this fun new interview.

Q. Where did Saxsquatch originate? What brought you out of the woods?

Saxsquatch: I originally started playing music with my family. My Grandfather, Gigfoot, was a guitar player and my sister, Bigflute, played the flute. I started out doing the beats but one day I heard the saxophone on the radio. Our radio access was limited due to extension cord issues but I listened every chance I got. It was Jr. Walker’s sax solo on “Urgent” by Foreigner that got me hooked. When I got a sax from a pawn shop and wouldn’t stop playing it, everyone started calling me Saxsquatch. I have to admit I did like the attention and eventually felt like it was my purpose for other people to hear the saxophone in the same way that it has brought me so much joy and awe.

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

A Conversation With, Entertainment, Interview, Morning Call, Music, Sports

Terry Bradshaw on his upcoming Bethlehem appearance, his ‘finest moment’ in the NFL and how the Philadelphia Eagles will do this year

Most know Terry Bradshaw as the four-time Super Bowl champion quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers, two-time Super Bowl MVP and inductee in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Others know him for his 30-year stint as the Emmy-award winning co-host and analyst for FOX NFL Sunday, or for his scene-stealing appearances in film and television.

But did you know that not only is Bradshaw one of the only NFL players with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame but he also once scored a hit with a version of the Hank Williams classic, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”? A song that reached No. 17 on the country singles chart.

On Saturday, fans of the legendary athlete will hear all the details of Bradshaw’s life through laughter, memories and song when Bradshaw brings his acclaimed stage production, “The Terry Bradshaw Show,” to the Wind Creek Event Center in Bethlehem.

The family show, one of only three being performed this summer, focuses on Bradshaw’s reflective retelling of his incredible life and career both on and off the football field and features a three-piece band under the musical direction of Smokin’ Joe Escriba.

Bradshaw will use his signature charm, comedy and country singing to chronicle his humble beginnings in Louisiana to the soaring heights as a Super Bowl champion, actor, analyst and motivational speaker. He’ll also discuss family and relationships, including the journey that ultimately led him to meeting the love of his life, Tammy Bradshaw.

I recently spoke with Terry Bradshaw about his upcoming performance at Wind Creek and more in this exclusive new interview.

Q: What can fans expect from The Terry Bradshaw Show at Wind Creek Event Center?

Terry Bradshaw: Let me describe it to you. It’s a fun show with me entertaining, telling stories and having fun with the audience. I sing about nine songs, including some gospel and country. The show was originally written for Broadway. We cut it back and started it off in [Las] Vegas at the Mirage and then from there went to the Luxor. I had signed a five-year deal with the Luxor and got a year in before the pandemic hit. I’ve since restructured the show to give it a little more “me” and my personality. It’s off the cuff, fun and lively. I will say that I hope people walk away from it going, “Gee, I didn’t know he could sing!” [laughs].

You can read the rest of my Morning Call interview with Terry Bradshaw by Clicking Here.