A Conversation With, Interview, Movies and TV

A Conversation With Actress Marie Bollinger
Marie Bollinger

It’s not often you come across someone as cool as Marie Bollinger, an actress making her mark on the Hollywood scene in commercials and movies like “Pelt” and the soon to be released suspense/thriller: “HUFF“.

Marie is an adventurous powerhouse and a force to be reckoned with. One look at her video reel shows that she can play a multitude of roles.

From scream queen to dramatic actress to comedy she’s the total package. Did I also mention she’s cool?

My first encounter with Marie was from her role as the voyeuristic Jessica in “Pelt”, a Richard Swindell film that pays homage to the classic camper/serial killer movies of the 1980’s. Marie was fantastic as the promiscuous camper who winds up getting captured, caged and, well you’ll just have to watch the movie to find out.

Marie’s latest role is that of Brixi in the Paul Morrell directed film “HUFF”, a twisted take on the classic story of “The Three Little Pigs” which also stars former “Bachelor” Charlie O’Connell, scream queen Elina Madison, Elly Stefanko and Jenna Stone.

“HUFF” was recently screened to an enthusiastic crowd at the Texas Frightmare Weekend and received rave reviews from hardcore horror fans. With an official release scheduled for September, Marie’s star is certain to rise to new heights.

I had the pleasure of speaking with Marie and discussing her roles in both “HUFF” and “Pelt”. In addition to being a phenomenal actress, I also discovered that Marie has amazing athletic prowess, an interesting musical hobby and an awesome sense of adventure.

Yeah, she’s cool.

goJimmygo (gJg): Marie! It’s so great to speak with you!

Marie Bollinger (MB): Yeah! Same here!

gJg: Was the “HUFF” screening at Texas Frightmare Weekend your first experience at a horror convention?

MB: Yes it was. It was the first time I’ve been to any convention actually. It was something I’ve never experienced before and it was amazing! I couldn’t believe how many horror fans were there. They’re so loyal. Texas Frightmare was really a great place to premiere the film.

I remember at one point meeting a guy who told me that it was his sixth time coming. He said he keeps coming back to them because he likes meeting the film makers and hanging with friends watching films. Everyone there just shares their love of the genre together. It’s pretty cool.

gJg: What was the screening like for “HUFF”?

MB: It was awesome! There was such a great turn out and most of the cast was there too which made it even better. I actually sat next to Elly and Jenna and we watched the completed film together for the very first time.

gJg: When is “HUFF” going to be released for the rest of us?

MB: We’re being told sometime in September. That’s what we’re shooting for.

gJg: How did you the role of Brixi come about for you?

MB: I actually landed the role in part from a movie I had done previously called “Pelt”.

A mutual friend had introduced me to Paul Morrell (the director of “HUFF”). Paul had seen “Pelt” and liked my performance. He found me through Facebook and called me in to audition for the role of Brixi.

gJg: How did it go?:

MB: I remember the first audition went really well. But after the callback I remember walking out thinking I had just blown it. I went home down on myself. And then on 11-11-11, of all dates, Paul called me up and offered me the part. <laughs>

gJg: What’s the premise of “HUFF”?

MB: It’s actually a really twisted take on the story of “The Three Little Pigs”. There’s an abusive step father, Huff (Charlie O’Connell) and a selfish mother, Lorelei (Elina Madison) who is blind to what is going on between her daughters and Huff.

My character, Brixi knows that she has to get out of the situation and ends up taking on the role of martyr in order to protect her sisters Shay (Elly Stefanko) and Styx (Jenna Stone).

Meanwhile, Lorelei takes Huff’s drug money and gives it to us to start new lives. That’s when Huff comes after us and the real horror element of the film begins. Up until that point the movie is more of a thriller.

So we run off and without giving too much away, let’s just say we make some decisions that got the crowd going at Texas Frightmare. <laughs>

gJg: What was it like working with Elina Madison?

MB: Elina is awesome! I’ve known her from seeing her at some of the commercial auditions I’ve been to. It wasn’t until later that I discovered she had this extensive resume of horror which was very cool.

I remember her coming to the table read and just laying all of her cards on the table right away. She just told everyone that she was going to do her own thing and for us to not be offended if she went off by herself. She was that focused on the story. I respect that. She was very professional.

gJg: I have to ask you this important question: Did you know that Charlie O’Connell (Huff) was “The Bachelor”?

MB: I honestly didn’t. I had never watched “The Bachelor” before and had to look it up. I went in blindly so I really didn’t really know anyone. <laughs>

gJg: Any interesting stories you remember while filming the movie?

MB: Well, I actually lived on the set pretty much. We were offered places to stay while we were filming but I didn’t want to drive so I just decided to stay on location. Our casting director, Meg Hairell, didn’t feel comfortable with me staying there by myself so she stayed there too.

I remember having to wake up every morning before anyone, even if I wasn’t due on the set, because the makeup room also doubled as my bedroom.

If I wasn’t shooting I was often napping. Meg has a whole collection of photos showcasing my skills of being able to nap anywhere but mostly curled up in a corner of the room. <laughs>

It was a creepy place because it was next to a burial ground and people had said they saw ghosts walking around on the property. I was really hoping for something scary to happen but nothing did.

gJg: Having now seen the movie, what do you like most about it?

MB: I think the fact that there was a subtle comedic element to it. Some of my favorite horror movies all have a little bit of comedy in it. It’s not always obvious but it’s there. Charlie really brought some awesome comedic elements to it. I was surprised at how well the sprinkle of comedy worked. It’s all so subtle, yet also real.

Pelt

gJg: What was your experience like filming “Pelt”?

MB: “Pelt” was a really fun shoot. I remember we all stayed in this great cabin-like hotel and really bonded together. It was great fun.

Here’s an interesting story:

One of my favorite movies from a few years ago was a film called “The Signal”. I remember that there was this guy in the movie who I thought was absolutely phenomenal but I didn’t know who he was.

Justin Welborn (who plays Jon in “Pelt”) and I became good friends during filming. After we had completed shooting the two of us were hanging out together and he asked me to check out this movie he had made: “The Signal”.

I was like: “No way, that’s YOU??” I had just gotten done working with him and had no idea that he was in one of my favorite movies, which says a lot about his ability to transform as an actor. He’s a chameleon of sorts. <laughs>

gJg: I found “Pelt” to be just like some of the other horror movies I loved watching during the 80’s. The “Friday the 13th” types with the over the top kills, the promiscuous ladies, the funny one-liners at the “wrong” time….

MB: Exactly! It’s supposed to be fun!

I remember being at the table read and Richard Swindell (director and a really cool dude) told us: “I’m not reinventing the wheel here. Let’s just have fun. It will be a great experience.”  And he was right, it was.

gJg: I remember reading where Richard said he knew a joke was going to work in “Pelt” if it made you laugh during the table reading.

MB: Yeah, I have a sense of humor of a 12 year-old boy and so does Richard. It was a blast. <laughs>

Acting:

gJg: When did you decide you wanted to become an actor?

MB: I think it was when I was in elementary school. I remember being involved in a poetry contest and at the time just thinking to myself that acting was something I really wanted to do.

I had always been involved in plays and drama during school but I was also an athlete. I won State my senior year in the high-jump and went to college on a scholarship. Being an athlete was a big part of my life.

I graduated college with a BFA in Electronic Media but was never brave enough to take that first step and do what I really wanted to do. Then one day my father, who always knew I had the desire to act, told me to just go for it. So I did. I moved to LA and immediately started booking commercials.

gJg: I was watching your video reels and saw your sky diving adventure. What was that experience like?

MB: It was such a great experience. For one second, and quite possibly the longest second of my life, I literally thought I was going to die. But once I realized that I was actually just free-falling, it was awesome! I love stuff like that: heights, being scared, adventure.

gJg: What do you like to do in your spare time?

MB: One of the things I like to do is collect vinyl record albums. I have a lot of classics like David Bowie, Brian Eno, Phil Collins, Patti Smith, Billy Joel. A lot of punk rock from the 70’s. Some garage rock from the 50’s and 60’s. Just a wide range of music.

I’m actually going through a big Leonard Cohen/Patti Smith phase right now. I think if I could have been born in another time it would have been the 60’s.

gJg: What’s projects do you have coming up?

MB: I have a couple of short films in the works along with a feature film called “Listening”.  It’s a story of two broke college grad students who invent mind-reading technology. If it gets into the wrong hands, well then it may just be the end of free will.  I play a brainy vixen in this one.

It’s a fantastic screenplay and I’m very excited about it! 

 

Article first published as A Conversation With Actress Marie Bollinger on Technorati.

1980's, Childhood Memories

Asia – 30 Years Of Rock

It was mid May 1982, a time period I remember fondly even though I can’t recall the exact date.

I was a young thirteen-year-old boy in the home stretch of seventh grade and actually loved going to school. And before you go making assumptions: no, I wasn’t on drugs or suffering from some serious mental ailment.

Just hear me out.

As a student, the end of the school year is always the most exciting time of the year. At least it was for me. Worries about final exams, peer pressure and girls would soon give way to dreams of summer sun, picnics and marathon sessions playing Pitfall on the Atari.

I actually looked forward to getting up in the morning and going to school. If for no other reason than to spend the day just hanging out with my friends in class. Because let’s be honest, there sure wasn’t a hell of a lot learning going on when there was a summer itch that needed to be scratched.

The middle school I attended sat in the center of the city’s west ward. A two-story brick structure that I think doubled as an oven from May through September. The building itself had no central air conditioning and by mid morning the temperature in the classroom rose to almost unbearable levels. And there’s only so much relief open windows and small portable fans can provide to a class of two dozen antsy students.

But the heat from the unusual May weather pattern did not deter my enthusiasm one bit. On the contrary, as the sweat ran down my brow it only reinforced the notion that before too long, summer would officially arrive.

It was during one of those final hot days when I was sitting, ironically enough, in music class when it happened. As I said, there was very little left to learn and aside from each student cleaning out their desks and getting old test papers back the teacher had pretty much given us a free period. As a sort of “going away present” he even offered to let students bring in some record albums to listen to rather than to just sit in silence.

That was when this kid, who I will forever remember as Danny, put it on the turntable. As needle met vinyl the crackling hum began and it would be the first time I heard that infamous guitar riff and opening line:

I never meant to be so bad to you.
One thing I said that I would never do..

My eyes lit up and my heart began to race as a smile ran clear across my face (did you like how that rhymed?). Anyway, I think if Mom and Dad would have been there what happened next would have been justifiable cause for having my mouth washed out with soap.

“Who the HELL is this?”, I almost blurted out. Thankfully, someone else said the exact same thing to Danny and spared me the trouble of a reprimand from the teacher thus keeping my goody-two shoes status in tact.

“Asia“, Danny replied with a smile. Danny was one of those lucky guys whose parents had just gotten him the record from the first real “super group” of the 1980’s. A band formed from the nexus of YES, Emerson, Lake and Palmer and King Crimson.

Not only was the first song killer but they even had a picture of a dragon rising from the sea on the album cover. I LOVE dragons!

I resisted the urge to reach out and “touch” the record album Danny held in his hands for fear that it might appear to be sacrilege. Or at least grounds for a punch in the arm.

As Danny explained the premise of Asia my ears were glued to the turntable. The music coming from the spinning disc was different and exciting. As “Heat of The Moment” played on not only do I recall thinking it was apropos to the oppressive situation we were experiencing in the school but I also remember thinking how great my life was to be able to bear witness to this new music.

The next song was just as catchy as the first: “Only Time Will Tell”.  An amazing keyboard intro and a video I would later find on the then fledgling MTV channel. You remember, the one with the girl gymnast jumping over TV sets with the bands faces on them?

Have I mentioned before how much I loved the 80’s?

I think we had just gotten half-way through the third song: “Sole Survivor” when it was time to pack things up and head out.

Although my tenure in seventh grade would soon be coming to an end the seed was planted for my love of hard driven guitars and keyboards.

It would be years before I would finally get to see Asia perform live. They are one of the very few bands from that era (RUSH, Mötley Crüe and Poison also come to mind) that are still performing with all of the original members and sound better than ever.

On July 3rd, 2012 Asia will release “XXX” (pronounced “Triple-X”) an album which celebrates three decades as the original super-group. Still with the same powerful line-up as when I first heard them in the sweltering heat of the middle school I’ll once again be able to hear new music and recall those care free days of youth.

Thanks Danny, wherever you are. Now bring on the heat.

Life

How I Got Out Of Mowing The Lawn

So yesterday I’m sitting down in the basement watching a MASH marathon. Something I don’t get to do too often since the show went off the air thirty years ago and is now on television in syndication only rarely.

And before you go and say anything about why I don’t just go and get the complete collection on DVD or streaming it someplace let me spare you the trouble.

Having every episode on some disk sitting around to play whenever I want is NOTHING compared to the euphoria you get when flipping through the channels and finding your favorite show on. Because when it comes my faves, I still get giddy when I turn on the television and there it is. Oh, and I also like the randomness of not knowing which episode it is too. Don’t judge.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…. So there I was watching Hawkeye and BJ putting shaving cream on Frank Burn’s face for about the five billionth time when in walks my miffed significant other.  I know she can see the happiness in my eyes watching my boys from the four-oh-double-seven.  She is fully aware of my love for the show. I’m eating nachos and enjoying the good life of reliving the Korean War through the eyes of guys named Trapper, Radar and Klinger.  I am in my happy place. She none the less isn’t so amused.

Apparently, there is a jungle growing out in the yard. A runaway lawn has gotten too out of control and must be addressed. For me, such things do not take precedence over watching Klinger dressing like a woman and trying to eat a Jeep to get out of the army.

She had been wanting me to cut it for the longest time. I said I was going to, but that was before I stumbled upon MASH.  She didn’t say a word though. Just stood there. Staring at me.

So after the stare down has gotten to be too much I did something I rarely do. Please forgive me Colonel Potter….

I put the TV on mute.

That’s right, turned off the sound to one of my all time favorite television shows. There was another ten or fifteen second  moment of silence. The tension in the air was so strong you could cut it with a knife.  Then finally, she spoke.

“You know, you are wasting your life away watching a show that you’ve seen a thousand times already…”

Again, more silence.

I slowly took another bite out of my nacho. The beef and cheesy combination only reminded me that I needed to get back to Korea as soon as possible. So after washing it down with some cold beer,  I cleared my throat and responded with the following:

Honey? I did some research. The average person spends approximately 8-10 minutes every day going to the bathroom (both number one and number two). Mind you, the time could increase depending upon many factors such as drunken nights or eating bad Chinese but let’s just use “ten” as a baseline. This includes the act itself and assuming you use proper hygiene methods afterwards. That equates out to more or less an hour a week.

I multiplied that by 52 and got 52 hours for a year. Follow me? Then I multiplied that again by 75 for the years of an average life span. (I didn’t tell her, but I would have subtracted some time for those early years where we all have incontinence issues and Mom and Dad had to take care of hygiene. But I didn’t want to make this issue too complicated).

Finally, I divided this number by 24 for hours in a day.

Do you know what I discovered Sweetheart? The average person spends almost a full half-year of their entire life either taking a leak or dropping a deuce. Yep, each one of us will spend 6 months of our lives locked in the toilet. Amazing isn’t it? What a waste of time (pun intended).

Now I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather spend that time watching MASH then sitting on the pot. Wouldn’t you agree?

Silence.

She shook her head and walked away. I raised my bottle of beer and gave myself a toast. Looks like the grass will have to wait. At least until MASH is over.

Oooh…King Kong Vs. Godzilla is coming on next…sorry Honey!

Thought and Opinion

Why Philadelphia Doesn’t Deserve A Sports Championship

I had to write this post. It’s been eating me up for quite some time and I feel as though I’m qualified to write it since I’ve lived eighty miles north of the city since the first Nixon administration.

I grew up a Philadelphia sports fan. So much so that I used to get into literal fist fights with my brother, a huge Cowboys fan, whenever the Eagles had the nerve to beat his beloved team.

I also loved watching Pete Rose, Mike Schmidt, Larry Bowa and the rest of the boys tearing it up at Veteran’s Stadium.

Truth be told, I never really cared much for basketball (76ers) or hockey (Flyers) although if anyone ever asked me who I liked my loyalty remained true to the city of brotherly love.

Eventually, I came to my senses in the way of the pigskin and gravitated over to the Seattle Seahawks for football although I still kept tabs on my beloved Phillies and finally got to see them win a championship again nearly three decades after their last one.

Which leads me to why I think Philadelphia doesn’t deserve any more.

The Philadelphia 76ers, a team and sport I have very little interest in are in the second round of the playoffs against The Boston Celtics. A series that no one really thought they’d be in.

So you’d think that this would be causing a huge stir in the Philly region right? Hardly. Even though I’m sure there’s plenty of local excitement, listening to the sports radio station you’d never even know.

Instead of talking ad nauseam about how the Sixers lost game three these clowns on the radio, the supposed “Voice of Sports” in Philadelphia, are more inclined to talk about a Phillies win in Chicago. In fact, the hosts of the show were actually predicting the 76ers would lose again on Friday and be on the verge of elimination.

Thanks guys.

Like I mentioned, I’m no fan of basketball but it angers me to listen to these people writing off the team they’re supposed to be representing. A team their whole business model is based around SUPPORTING!

Relegating playoff basketball to the back seat in favor or a single Phillies game that means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things at this point in the season is deplorable.

When the Flyers, Eagles or Phillies are anywhere near the playoffs that’s all they want to talk about. But when the 76ers are in the thick of things they could care less.

I’m sure if they’re prediction comes true and the Sixers are eliminated they’ll be happy to say “I told ya so”. But if by some miracle the opposite occurs they’ll jump right back on the bandwagon as if they’ve been there the whole time. It’s this kind of mentality that makes me wish Philly never gets another championship.

Shame on them.

Childhood Memories

The McDonaldland Crime Syndicate

Back in the day, if Mom and Dad drove anywhere passed a Mickey D’s you knew darn well a whiny blonde-haired boy in the back seat was going to beg them to make a pit stop.

As a child, I loved going to the Golden Arches. It was like visiting Mr. Rogers or The Fonz only this excursion also included burgers, fries and shakes! I just loved eating there as a wee lad. Much more so then now, as eating that stuff today tends to put weight on me for some unknown reason.

But I have to admit, the thing I loved most about going to McDonald’s in the 1970′s had nothing to do with burger or fry. No, the best thing about going to the place where billions and billions were served was that it was another chance for me to see what my boy Ronald McDonald and his homies were up to.

Ronald sure had the coolest bunch of friends ever – a posse that all lived in their own little McDonaldland. A world filled with talking nuggets, trash cans and trees. A place I only got to visit when my parents grew tired of listening to their bratty kid on the way home from the store.

I still fondly recall trying to collect all of the promotional, lead-laced glasses and plates they’d have. Not because I’d ever utilize such items for eating or drinking mind you. My goal was strictly to have something with the McDonaldland characters on it. The coolest bunch of dudes ever. You know who they are: Ronald McDonald, Grimace, The Professor, Mayor McCheese, Big Mac and Birdie the Early Bird (for all you breakfast lovers out there).

It’s actually been years since we all really hung out together, so on a whim I decided to read up on my old pals to see what they were up to. What I discovered about their past was shocking… and sadly, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.

Has anyone else noticed the evil crime syndicate that was being run out of McDonaldland?

Take a look at these biographies of the characters and you tell me. Fatty fast food is the last thing our children need to be worried about. The truth is, larceny has been running amok in McDonaldland:

Hamburglar – The Hamburglar was a pint-sized burglar who first appeared in March 1971 and was one of the first villains on the commercials. He is dressed in a black-and-white hooped shirt and pants, a red cape, a wide-brimmed hat and red gloves. His primary object of theft was hamburgers.

 

 
Captain Crook – Captain Crook was a pirate who first appeared in July 1970 and is similar in appearance to the famed Captain Hook from Disney’s 1953 movie Peter Pan. Unlike the Hamburglar, this villain spent his time trying to steal Filet-O-Fish sandwiches from citizens of McDonaldland while avoiding being caught.

 

 

 

Fry Guys -They are characters used to promote McDonald’s french fries. When they first appeared in 1972, they were called Gobblins and liked to steal and gobble up the other characters’ french fries.

 

 

Griddler – A short-lived McDonaldland character. He was featured in 2 commercials in 2003 to promote the McGriddles by stealing them from Ronald and his friends.

Even my boy Grimace started out on the wrong side of the tracks:

Grimace – a large, purple character who was first introduced in November 1971 as the “Evil Grimace”. In Grimace’s first two appearances, he was depicted with two pairs of arms with which to steal milkshakes and sodas. “Evil” was soon dropped from Grimace’s moniker, and Grimace was reintroduced in 1972 as one of the good guys.

It seems like almost everyone at McDonalds has taken to a life of crime. And to make matters worse, the only two real “good guys” around: Mayor McCheese and Big Mac (an actual police officer) both disappeared from McDonaldland years ago and haven’t been heard from since. Coincidence?

I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to question which side Ronald himself is on.

Which makes me wonder how it all began….

Things I Think

Five Things I Think: The Top Rock Vocalists of All Time

Yesterday they announced that Britney Spears and Demi Lovato would be joining the judges panel for the Simon Cowell talent show “X-Factor”. I was dumbfounded by this revelation. What credentials could these two individuals possibly possess that qualify them to be judges of singers?

So while I was thinking about how shows like this have “sold-out” and now only seem to be launching pads for celebrities to jump start their stagnant careers (hello J-Lo) I started thinking about some of the best rock singers I knew.

Singers. I’m a big fan of them. Especially ones that do it with ease. Because what they do is something I long for but know I’ll never achieve, even with years of training. It’s something you’re born with. And it makes me love them and hate them all the more. But in a good way.

So I decided to give you a quick list of who I think are the five greatest rock singers of all time. We can debate about it all you want (and I hope we do) but let’s see if you agree:

Lou Gramm

#5. Lou Gramm: When I first heard “Hot Blooded” for the first time I was blown away. It was one of the first songs I ever attempted to sing for real and subsequently realized that I wasn’t a singer. Thanks Lou!

Lou’s vocals also shine on songs like “Waiting For A Girl Like You”, “Juke Box Hero” and of course “I Wanna Know What Love Is”.

 

Robert Plant

 

#4. Robert Plant: I’ll probably take a lot of heat for this one but truth be told I was never really into Led Zeppelin all that much. I know, a travesty. Especially for a metal-head like me.

I was one of the ones who knew about them but like most people grew incredibly tired of hearing “Stairway to Heaven” being played ad nauseam on rock radio.

Perhaps that’s why I never opened myself up to some of their other great songs. But I give credit where credit is due. Robert was one of the best ever.

 

Steve Perry

#3. Steve Perry: You know how you can tell you’re an awesome singer? When you get kicked out of the band and the remaining members proceed to spend the next 15 years replacing you with guys who sound exactly like you. Sorry, but in this case, nothing comes close to the original.

Kids these days can’t seem to get enough of “Don’t Stop Believin”. But I like to remind them how great it was for me to be living during the years when songs like “Any Way You Want It”, “Lights”, “Stone in Love”, “Open Arms”, “Separate Ways'” and “Faithfully” were actually new!

Try to find any singer out there today that comes close to equaling a resume of songs like that.

Freddie Mercury

#2.Freddie Mercury: Without a doubt the ultimate front man. Watch their Live Aid performance from 1985. Or check out the video from their “Kind of Magic” tour. Not just a phenomenal singer, Freddie also knew how to play to the audience.

Listen to him on the magnum opus “Bohemian Rhapsody”, his swagger on “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” and his fun side on “Fat Bottomed Girls”. And even those are just the tip of the iceberg.

It’s still hard to believe that this guy’s been gone for over twenty years. Just think of all the great music we’ve missed. I still believe that if he was still alive Queen would be the biggest thing on the planet.

 

Even when they replaced him with Paul Rodgers (an honorable mention on my list) they STILL played in front of crowds in excess of 300,000 people.

Jimi Jamsion

#1. Jimi Jamison: In my view the ultimate rock singer. And no, it’s not just because he’s the only one on my list that I’ve actually met in person (although he is one of the most humble, down to Earth people you’d ever meet).

Just listen to him on any of the 1980’s Survivor albums (my favorite songs being “Can’t Hold Back”, “Man Against The World” and “Desperate Dreams”) or any of his solo material. The man’s voice never changes. It’s as powerful as ever and he does it with ease.

Survivor guitarist Frankie Sullivan once said Jimi could sing the phone book and quite honestly, I’d really like to hear it.

Your turn. Who are your favorite male rock vocalists?

1980's, Childhood Memories, Life

Dear Diary: May 13, 1987

I am so grateful to have kept my journal from high school. It gives me the opportunity to look back now thirty years later and see just how far I’ve come.

I’ll be the first to admit, a lot of it is rambling on and on about music, girls and homework but sometimes I said some of the most profound things. Not bad for a seventeen year old.

Case in point: This entry from 30 years ago. I was a member of the Concert Choir in high school during my senior year and quite honestly it’s the best memory I have. I loved it so much that when the director of the choir retired from the school district a few years ago and became the director of an adult choir I immediately brushed up on my Bass II vocals and joined without question.

But back to the story: On May 13th, 1987 my high school choir performed its annual Spring Concert. It was a night of firsts and lasts. It would be the first time I ever performed on stage as a guitarist. It would also be the last time I’d be singing with the amazing people I spent nearly thirteen years of my life with.

I still remember standing in the hallway behind the auditorium when it was all over just letting everything sink in. Receiving high-fives and handshakes from kids, excuse me… “Seniors”… many of whom I only knew from yearbook photos and who wanted nothing to do with me during my entire school career. Sadly, the feeling was mutual.

And yet suddenly, a truly amazing thing happened. The ignorance of  high-school “clicks” was gone and everybody (yes, everybody) suddenly became “cool”. I guess it was because we all knew that in less than a month we’d be saying goodbye for the last time.

It was one of the last true moments of greatness in high school and my youth. This is what I wrote the next day:

5/14/87

Dear Diary: Last night was my first time EVER playing to an audience on stage. I was really scared as the moment approached but they, friends comforted me (in more ways than one).

I tried like hell to psyche myself up but it didn’t work until the curtain opened. Then I WANTED it and I really let loose!

Afterwards, the G- string on my guitar broke (3rd string). I was so grateful it didn’t happen during the concert.

I threw picks into the audience and don’t know what became of them. Maybe somebody’s home with it – happy. That’s what I hope. I hope I made people happy.

That’s what music is all about. It’s not money, sex, drugs, long nights – although all of that somehow seems to go with it. Music has one purpose: To make people emotional.

We did that last night.

I laugh when I think about my rock-star mentality that night. I mean, who in their right mind would ever play a menacing black guitar on stage for “Flashdance” and then jump back in to the choir to sing Aus Justi?

I remember there was one thing I was especially excited about as I put pen to paper the next day. I couldn’t wait to write the line “in more ways than one”.

You see, that night was also the first time a boy five months shy of becoming eligible for Selective Service actually received a kiss on the cheek by a female that was not his Mom or Grandmother. Keeping my journal over the course of the year, I would NEVER have gone so far as to write anything about my interaction with girls. Mainly due to my fear of the journal winding up in the wrong hands. But on that day I didn’t care. And as I read this awesome entry again the words on the now tattered yellow pages began to sink in.

Not only did we make great music that night but I think I became more confident in myself as a person.

Childhood Memories, Life

Teacher Teacher

Most of us wanted our school years to just fly by. Every day of school was just another day closer to the weekend and doing whatever we wanted to do. At the time, most of us never really thought about the real impact school and teachers would have on our lives.

Bring out the way back machine Sherman and set it to the years 1984-1987……

I’m in high school again. You know, those crazy years we all went through. Like walking down the halls in Jordache jeans while Spandau Ballet blared over the loud speakers, carrying books covered by paper grocery bags (a requirement back then and before plastic bags became ALL the rage). Ok, its “True”, I made up the part about Spandau Ballet.

In all of my schooling I can’t remember much about what was learned or very much about my teachers. Although my friend Michele has the uncanny ability to recall exactly WHERE I was sitting in history class in proportion to her location. We’ll have to talk about this at the next reunion. I have a lot of questions that need answering.

Anyway, although I can’t recall much I do remember three teachers during my tenure there that really impacted me the most: Mr. Siddons, Mr. Fox and Mr. Milisits. I won’t even bother to give their first names because to me, respectively, that’s who they will forever be known as.

Mr. Siddons was my tenth grade history teacher. His father was one of the last of the old school door to door sales people who had sold insurance to my grandparents. He was also my brother’s history teacher two years earlier. 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: “Why did the chicken cross the road? Because He had to go the bathroom”. And he’d always give out a “Mr. Siddons” laugh. Nothing outrageous or anything. He would just kind of chuckle to himself. You could tell he must have been up all night thinking about it. How he’d deliver it and the kids would go crazy.

At first his shtick didn’t go over too well with me. But by the end of the first month of class I actually looked 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. Maybe that was really his shtick. To get me to try to remember them.

During my junior and senior years I rarely got down to the part of the school where Mr. Siddons and others of his “ilk” resided. But on the occasion that I did or saw him in the hall he would always say “Hi” to me 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 he 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 all.

Art class was a means of escape for me. I loved to draw and became an affection ado 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 of the day.

We all knew Mr. Fox must have been an artist himself. And one day we found out what he loved to do. We came into class to see these miniature models of a circus that he had constructed himself. Everything he painstakingly made from scratch with his own two hands. You could see the pride in his eyes. This guy was GOOD.

But the one day that really stands out for me was when we were drawing the human figure. We’d have students go up and just stand there while the rest of us drew. I could always draw the body (even cool detail on their Converse sneakers with rainbow shoe laces) but never the face. It never came out right. I spent a long time on it and it just wasn’t happening. He must have seen my frustration because at one point he came over and sat across from me. It was just me and him…face to face.

He looked at my piece and was impressed. Then he asked me why I was so frustrated. I told him it was because as hard as I tried I could never get the face to be anywhere close to being right. So he took a piece of paper and started doodling…all the while looking at me and just saying things like “You know, if you really want something and try hard enough, you can make it happen”.

For those thirty seconds or so I was more doubtful than ever…”Yeah, right” I thought to myself. Then he stood up and told me “Keep up the good work Jim”, and passed me the paper he was doodling on.

As he walked away I picked up the paper and looked at it. The old guy with the limp had just drawn a picture of my face. One where even the subject (in this case, yours truly)  would say “That looks just like ME”….he did that in thirty seconds of just scribble.

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 opening for Clay Aiken) but we’ll save that for another time. Suffice to say, I credit most of my music “success” to the days of high school music theory and choir.

Mr. Milisits (or “M” as he is known) would conduct the huge high school choir. One that won many awards over the years. I’m sure for many; choir was like art class was for me. Just a way to get out of taking another boring subject. But that soon changed. Somehow, he would take a group of kids and make them WANT to sing.

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. He just had “something” that made you want to work hard.

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

When it came time to perform, be it at school or somewhere in Canada, 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 day that I still play.

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

A few years ago I had the opportunity to rejoin “M” and a few other alumni as he is now the director of the Lehigh Saengerbund Chorus.We’re preparing to perform at Allentown Symphony Hall in early June, twenty-five years after I last sat with him in high school concert choir.

As I sit in rehearsals now there’s no wayback back machine required. It’s like re-living a part of all the best days of being in school again. That old feeling of “you can do it” and “new mistakes show progress” are back.

And it’s all good.

Life

Dear Jim Letter

It was a rainy Saturday morning and very apropos if you ask me. I awoke very early to the sound of thunder and could sleep no longer.

As I stumbled down the stairs listening to the rain pound on the rooftop the grumpiness I once had for the Sandman’s lack of personal attention slowly began to subside.

You see, the routine I have every Saturday morning is simple and never changes. I like to sit on my nice comfy couch, drink coffee and read the morning newspaper. My wife and daughter would still be asleep and there’d be no television or phone calls. Just peace and quiet. Caffeine and news print. This was definitely “ME” time.

And the idea that I was awake even earlier than usual only reinforced my joy. I knew that now I’d have even more quiet time alone then usual. So all I could think about was getting the old Keurig fired up, grabbing the newspaper and curling up on the couch. The fact that I could also listen to an early summer rainstorm in the background was a bonus.

The kitchen seemed darker than usual this morning. Natural light had just begun to fill the room and I could see the rain pounding the outside window above the sink. The sound of the refrigerator turning itself on was comforting. But that’s when I noticed something was missing from the nearby family room.

The big comfy couch.

The one that I spend my Saturday mornings reading newspapers and drinking coffee upon was gone. Surprisingly, all of the end tables and lamps were still in their places. Even my beloved 50″ flat screen television that was my portal to Hollywood and grid iron games was still mounted on the wall untouched. Only the couch was gone.

My heart sank as I thought immediately that my home had been robbed overnight. I thought of all the things that would be missing and all of the horrible things that might have been done to my family while we slept.

I reached for the phone to dial the police but noticed a simple white letter lying on the kitchen table. The hand writing on it was one that I didn’t recognize. Too neat to be my daughter and not in the style of my wife.

Something told me to pick it up and read it. The paper was white and crisp and the ink on the page barely dry. I’ll read it to you now verbatim:

Dearest Jim,

I know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be done. Writing like this. But it’s the only option I have left. I’ve put up with a lot these past few years and I am left with nothing but tears.

Being with you has been wonderful at times. You’ve taught me so much and for that I will always be grateful.

But the time has come to say goodbye. We’re simply not meant to be together.

I’ll always cherish the way you’d leave crumbs from your sandwiches and popcorn lying in my cushions. The long naps we’d take together. The laughs we’d share when you’d “accidentally” break wind on me. But most of all, I’ll remember our Saturdays together.

Sadly though, you have your ways and I have mine. Nothing in the middle seems to make sense.

I do still love you. But the pain that lies beneath the happiness has become more than I can take. We are too good to settle for something that will just never be.

I wish you everything good life has to offer and a happiness that will endure.

Goodbye,

Couch

A tear came to my eye and there was a feeling of emptiness in my heart. I won’t sugar coat it.  I’m the first to admit that I’m not perfect. And I’ve had plenty of relationships end badly before. I can’t remember if I’ve ever received a “Dear Jim” letter before but there is one thing I do know. I’ve never been dumped by a couch. Ever.

As the Keurig finished brewing I took in a deep breath and blew it out. Rain continued to pound on the roof and for a moment I felt like dashing out and finding my beloved. In the end though I realized I had to just let it go and move on.

I dragged a chair from the kitchen table to where the couch used to be and sat down. The coffee didn’t taste as good as it normally does. I only hope this isn’t a sign of the way Saturday mornings were now going to be.

1980's, Survivor

Survivor: The Next Generation

It’s been 27 years, 2 months and 15 days. But who’s counting?

Nearly 10,000 days. That’s the duration of time between when I first saw the band Survivor perform at Stabler Arena in Bethlehem, PA and the day I took my daughter Jillian to see them for the very first time this past Sunday at Penns Peak.

Oh sure, we went to Hershey Park a few summers ago when the band was there but let’s be honest: when you put an 8-year-old girl in an amusement park surrounded by chocolate it’s damn near impossible to get her to sit still for an audio assault of classic rock.

So, while Mom and child made their way around the park Dad took one for the team. I know, it’s a tough job.

But Sunday night was the ideal night. It had been almost seven years since Jimi Jamison fronted the band and it would be Jillian’s first time to see and hear the band her Dad’s been clamoring about since she first wondered what that “Vital Signs” album was doing hanging on the wall in his office.

If you are a classic rock, hair-metal or country music lover Penns Peak is the absolute best place to see a show. It reminds me so much of the intimacy that Stabler Arena had. A venue that when you first walk in you can literally read the band’s name on the drum header without the need of binoculars. As far as I’m concerned a concert isn’t just a band playing for you. You need to be part of the experience. A concert is when the band is playing WITH you.

As Jillian and I stood in the second row the band ran through a gambit of hits and even a few surprises as well. Truth be told, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard them sound this good. And this was only their fourth show together with this new line-up. A sign of good things to come!

We were extremely fortunate to get back stage passes for a quick meet and greet with the band after the show.

Jillian, an aspiring singer herself, asked Jimi (one of the greatest male rock vocalists of all time) if he had any advice for her. This is what he said:

Persistence. Just keep singing. The more you do it, the better you get. That’s the best advice I can give you!

My mind is a bit faded since that Survivor concert two dozen years ago and for the longest time it was hard for me to try to put into words how I felt the night I saw them for the very first time.

That was until a friend showed me a picture she had taken of Jillian and me after the show was over. Then I figured it out.

After the band said goodbye and got into the van to take them back to the hotel Jillian and i stood there for a minute basking in the glow. It was at this point that a simple song lyric came to mind:

We will remember this first night together. After all the songs fade away and the stage fades to gray.

As we were making our way out a stage hand from the band came over and asked Jillian if she had gotten an “official” Survivor Frankie Sullivan guitar pick.

After she told him that she didn’t he took one that he had gotten from the stage and handed it to her as if it might mean something.

Truthfully, it did.