two half notes make a whole
I am the product of two fathers, both of whom are equally responsible for my growth into manhood and each man owns a part of the action. They represent the yin and the yang of fatherhood as each man was the extreme opposite of the other(one was in a rock band, the other never listens to music). At the end of the day, it seems that the only two things I can see that they had in common were a shared knowledge of my mother and that they were both taller than me. From that point on, the similarities cease.
"Xanadu" was a film that came out in 1980 and fast became a favorite for my friends and I to watch. It was so popular that my brother actually asked for, and received, the soundtrack(on record, no less). The film was a flop at the box office but was a huge success on HBO which was in it's infancy and looking for films to show. Xanadu came cheap and they put it into heavy rotation, this meant that I could watch it at least once a day and I think I did. I must have watched that movie two or three hundred times. The only film I have seen more is "Beastmaster". I can recite dialogue... Try me.
The film is about two men from different generations that meet and are inspired by a real Muse. Neither man feels a complusion to paint or sculpt, but rather, to open a roller disco. Yes, it's a classy film! Anyway, midway through the film, when both men are trying to figure out the "feel" of the club, the muse does her thing and each man has a vision. The younger man sees the club as a New Wave-rock club filled with crazy dancers. The music is heavy and the dancers are wearing spandex with their faces heavily painted. The older man sees the club filled with a Big Band scene with crazy dancers dressed like the Andrew sisters. The film tries to be fair and it gives each man's vision equal time to play their song and do their little dance... but then... something magically happens...
The two worlds of music... Come together! That's right, the music, the dancers, the musicians. It all comes together. It all fits like a glove. Even the film sets slide into each other to make one large mixed band with dancers. It was an awesome scene.. When I was 9.
My father, Chuck was a tall, dark skinned man with a black mustache. He slumped over a bit and was not particularly good looking. He had a great laugh, was a chain smoker and was a sloppy dresser - mostly sweats or throw back Seventies gear. He was a moderately successful writer with columns in several local Kansas City newspapers, but he never had any money. He was a dreamer that never held down a real job, not for one day of his life, yet somehow managed to eck out a living and live in a nice suburban house. He was an only child, the son of southern drunks that he didn't connect with at all. The best way to describe his childhood is - he lived in the room above the garage. He had a terrible dark side which manifested itself in many, many ways and was never fully understood, even ten years after his death. He fathered three children, was married three times - each time to a woman fresh out of high school. He was an actor, a democrat, a failed stand up comic, an avid toy collector, a crook, a college drop out, a history buff, a musician, and a huge film fan that loved each of his children. I loved him very much. He met my mother in a basement with some friends - He was dared to kiss her.
My father, Bill was a tall, pale, thin man with thick glasses and was the very essence of what people like to call, "nerd". He has a modesty to his movements that let you know that he isn't going to hurt you which is good because he's a doctor and I'm sure that he needs that aura with some of his more frightened patients. He's a product of the 50's and was raised in a very conservative, morally forthright Wisconsin family. He's the eldest son of three children, yet in all the time I have known him, I have never met his siblings. His parents owned a hardware store and were constantly hard on him to be a successful business man. He's a republican with a degree in Economics and a pHd. in Osteopathic Medicine. He's been a doctor for over thirty years and a pilot for twenty. He loves cars, but can't fix them. His present wife is an airport manager and they are inseperable. He is constantly studying either medicine or economics. He was a virgin until he was 28 and married my mother. He believes in God, Bill O'Reilly and a good investment. He's shy. Never flashy. Does not fight. He can be trusted. He's loving, caring, focused and everything that Chuck was not. I love him very much. He met my mother in a snowy parking lot - He offered to scrape the ice off her windshield.
Bill and Chuck were not friends and they only met a few times in their lives. An amazing feat considering all they had in common. Their fight for dominion over my soul and the right way to raise my brother and me went on for years and only ended the day that Chuck died suddenly. Bill felt that Chuck underminded everything that he had worked so hard to teach us and Bill was always put out by the fact that we like Chuck's free wheeling ways better than his. It was really a matter of reward. Chuck liked sugary, fattening foods, staying up late and watching movies. Bill believed in health foods(he once used only health food store candy for Easter - my brother and I cried for hours). Chuck made fun of Bill and we laughed. I laughed. Bill never spoke ill of Chuck. He never wanted us to be that kind of person. Ironically, my brother was with Bill in Montana when Chuck's health took a turn for the worse, and it was Bill that actually paid for my brother's plane ticket to go be with Chuck before he died. He didn't make it in time.
Growing up, Chuck - being Chuck, did not pay child support and relinquished his parental rights and Bill snatched them right up. He adopted my brother and I when he married our mother and even when they divorced 12 years later, Bill never waivered in his affections for us. My brother's loyalities waned as he got older, but that's another issue. Even so, Bill's love for my brother never faultered. We still bear Bill's last name. He's on my birth certificate as my father.
It hurt Bill to be known or treated as second fiddle to Chuck. Bill felt that he was the one that was making all the efforts, yet Chuck continued to reap what Bill had sown. It was agonizing for Bill, yet he kept it mostly to himself. I can't imagine what that must have been like. When Bill married his present wife, she came with two kids. He was once again thrust into a situation where he was second fiddle. This time, he backed off. He has never had children of his own.
I carry Bill's family name legally and use Chuck's birth name as my stage name. Bill has asked if I wanted to change my name from his and said he understands if I want to do it. He said he wouldn't be hurt if I chose to do so and I was going to do it, but then thought better of it. Early on, I felt that I was trading on his good name with my foul comedy and strange writing and I knew that he would be mildly hurt if he found out what my show is really like. (both men have seen my show, but that was 10 years ago and both shows were clean shows. Bill thinks I am the cleanest, funniest person he has ever met. He loves me that much) I decided not to change my name as I feel it's an honor to be known as Bill's son. He never has been able to see what his efforts have meant to me or my brother and I think that keeping his name instead of taking an easier path, would be the least I could do to honor him. He has more than earned the right. The only reason I would change it is if I felt that it would besmearch his good name. Which could happen...
Chuck was the darkness to Bill's light. One used foul language, ate twinkies, smoked cigarettes, chased women, and was constantly trying to find ways to milk money out people. The other still uses the word, "mularky" as an expletive, happily eats whatever his wife cooks for him, has slept with fewer women than Nathan Lane and his only vice is old vehicles. These two men would have made a great Amazing Race Team.
Chuck loved to watch movies with me. We used to go out at 2 in the morning for coffee and long drives no matter what time of year it was. He gave me cigarettes for my birthday every year from 15 on up. He taught me how to seduce, perform oral sex(I was 13 at the time) and break up with women. We enjoyed each other's company. He shared his darkest secrets with me. I gave his elogy at his funeral. I carry all of his recessive genes in my blood.
Bill loved to "treat" me as in medically. I have so many medical anomolies (ironically given to me by Chuck's DNA - yet another of Chuck's rotten tomatoes thrown at Bill) that Bill could dedicate his career to righting all the wrongs inside me. In fact, when I had my heart attack, it was Bill that paid my medical bill, not Chuck. In fact, Bill was my only relative to cover the huge tab.
Bill taught me to leave things better than you found them. He taught me to say, "no" to things that would be harmful to me. He taught me the value of the saved dollar, the bright future and the beautiful soul. He has always been there even when I have failed him. I owe him.
These two men that couldn't be any more different and yet they were the men that were responsible for creating my foundation. Their music comes together in a montage that can only be seen in me and my actions and I think of them often when I recall their wise words in my daily life. Bill's voice comes through when buying cars, clothes, and food. Chuck's voice comes through when I write a post, laugh out loud, or eat a PB and J. Bill is the smell of the warm pine of Washington. Chuck is the sound of crickets, the feel of humidity and the taste of Coca Cola that is the Midwest.
I miss Chuck, he's been dead for ten years now and I miss our talks. I miss the way he smelled, his laugh and his clueless social bravado. It bothers me that I don't have him to counter balance my world like I used to. In the moments where I sit and watch something on TV that I know he would have loved, I miss him most. When I write political pieces, I hear his voice in my words. He's not here to share that with me, but I have him firmly implanted in my mind.
In closing, I think it's important to mention, should the occasion ever arise, that I think Chuck finally paid Bill back for everything he did for me and for him. Chuck's death made me appreciate Bill so much more than ever before. I know to embrace Bill and savor him endlessly, because one day I might be left with no music left to soothe my soul.
"Xanadu" was a film that came out in 1980 and fast became a favorite for my friends and I to watch. It was so popular that my brother actually asked for, and received, the soundtrack(on record, no less). The film was a flop at the box office but was a huge success on HBO which was in it's infancy and looking for films to show. Xanadu came cheap and they put it into heavy rotation, this meant that I could watch it at least once a day and I think I did. I must have watched that movie two or three hundred times. The only film I have seen more is "Beastmaster". I can recite dialogue... Try me.
The film is about two men from different generations that meet and are inspired by a real Muse. Neither man feels a complusion to paint or sculpt, but rather, to open a roller disco. Yes, it's a classy film! Anyway, midway through the film, when both men are trying to figure out the "feel" of the club, the muse does her thing and each man has a vision. The younger man sees the club as a New Wave-rock club filled with crazy dancers. The music is heavy and the dancers are wearing spandex with their faces heavily painted. The older man sees the club filled with a Big Band scene with crazy dancers dressed like the Andrew sisters. The film tries to be fair and it gives each man's vision equal time to play their song and do their little dance... but then... something magically happens...
The two worlds of music... Come together! That's right, the music, the dancers, the musicians. It all comes together. It all fits like a glove. Even the film sets slide into each other to make one large mixed band with dancers. It was an awesome scene.. When I was 9.
My father, Chuck was a tall, dark skinned man with a black mustache. He slumped over a bit and was not particularly good looking. He had a great laugh, was a chain smoker and was a sloppy dresser - mostly sweats or throw back Seventies gear. He was a moderately successful writer with columns in several local Kansas City newspapers, but he never had any money. He was a dreamer that never held down a real job, not for one day of his life, yet somehow managed to eck out a living and live in a nice suburban house. He was an only child, the son of southern drunks that he didn't connect with at all. The best way to describe his childhood is - he lived in the room above the garage. He had a terrible dark side which manifested itself in many, many ways and was never fully understood, even ten years after his death. He fathered three children, was married three times - each time to a woman fresh out of high school. He was an actor, a democrat, a failed stand up comic, an avid toy collector, a crook, a college drop out, a history buff, a musician, and a huge film fan that loved each of his children. I loved him very much. He met my mother in a basement with some friends - He was dared to kiss her.
My father, Bill was a tall, pale, thin man with thick glasses and was the very essence of what people like to call, "nerd". He has a modesty to his movements that let you know that he isn't going to hurt you which is good because he's a doctor and I'm sure that he needs that aura with some of his more frightened patients. He's a product of the 50's and was raised in a very conservative, morally forthright Wisconsin family. He's the eldest son of three children, yet in all the time I have known him, I have never met his siblings. His parents owned a hardware store and were constantly hard on him to be a successful business man. He's a republican with a degree in Economics and a pHd. in Osteopathic Medicine. He's been a doctor for over thirty years and a pilot for twenty. He loves cars, but can't fix them. His present wife is an airport manager and they are inseperable. He is constantly studying either medicine or economics. He was a virgin until he was 28 and married my mother. He believes in God, Bill O'Reilly and a good investment. He's shy. Never flashy. Does not fight. He can be trusted. He's loving, caring, focused and everything that Chuck was not. I love him very much. He met my mother in a snowy parking lot - He offered to scrape the ice off her windshield.
Bill and Chuck were not friends and they only met a few times in their lives. An amazing feat considering all they had in common. Their fight for dominion over my soul and the right way to raise my brother and me went on for years and only ended the day that Chuck died suddenly. Bill felt that Chuck underminded everything that he had worked so hard to teach us and Bill was always put out by the fact that we like Chuck's free wheeling ways better than his. It was really a matter of reward. Chuck liked sugary, fattening foods, staying up late and watching movies. Bill believed in health foods(he once used only health food store candy for Easter - my brother and I cried for hours). Chuck made fun of Bill and we laughed. I laughed. Bill never spoke ill of Chuck. He never wanted us to be that kind of person. Ironically, my brother was with Bill in Montana when Chuck's health took a turn for the worse, and it was Bill that actually paid for my brother's plane ticket to go be with Chuck before he died. He didn't make it in time.
Growing up, Chuck - being Chuck, did not pay child support and relinquished his parental rights and Bill snatched them right up. He adopted my brother and I when he married our mother and even when they divorced 12 years later, Bill never waivered in his affections for us. My brother's loyalities waned as he got older, but that's another issue. Even so, Bill's love for my brother never faultered. We still bear Bill's last name. He's on my birth certificate as my father.
It hurt Bill to be known or treated as second fiddle to Chuck. Bill felt that he was the one that was making all the efforts, yet Chuck continued to reap what Bill had sown. It was agonizing for Bill, yet he kept it mostly to himself. I can't imagine what that must have been like. When Bill married his present wife, she came with two kids. He was once again thrust into a situation where he was second fiddle. This time, he backed off. He has never had children of his own.
I carry Bill's family name legally and use Chuck's birth name as my stage name. Bill has asked if I wanted to change my name from his and said he understands if I want to do it. He said he wouldn't be hurt if I chose to do so and I was going to do it, but then thought better of it. Early on, I felt that I was trading on his good name with my foul comedy and strange writing and I knew that he would be mildly hurt if he found out what my show is really like. (both men have seen my show, but that was 10 years ago and both shows were clean shows. Bill thinks I am the cleanest, funniest person he has ever met. He loves me that much) I decided not to change my name as I feel it's an honor to be known as Bill's son. He never has been able to see what his efforts have meant to me or my brother and I think that keeping his name instead of taking an easier path, would be the least I could do to honor him. He has more than earned the right. The only reason I would change it is if I felt that it would besmearch his good name. Which could happen...
Chuck was the darkness to Bill's light. One used foul language, ate twinkies, smoked cigarettes, chased women, and was constantly trying to find ways to milk money out people. The other still uses the word, "mularky" as an expletive, happily eats whatever his wife cooks for him, has slept with fewer women than Nathan Lane and his only vice is old vehicles. These two men would have made a great Amazing Race Team.
Chuck loved to watch movies with me. We used to go out at 2 in the morning for coffee and long drives no matter what time of year it was. He gave me cigarettes for my birthday every year from 15 on up. He taught me how to seduce, perform oral sex(I was 13 at the time) and break up with women. We enjoyed each other's company. He shared his darkest secrets with me. I gave his elogy at his funeral. I carry all of his recessive genes in my blood.
Bill loved to "treat" me as in medically. I have so many medical anomolies (ironically given to me by Chuck's DNA - yet another of Chuck's rotten tomatoes thrown at Bill) that Bill could dedicate his career to righting all the wrongs inside me. In fact, when I had my heart attack, it was Bill that paid my medical bill, not Chuck. In fact, Bill was my only relative to cover the huge tab.
Bill taught me to leave things better than you found them. He taught me to say, "no" to things that would be harmful to me. He taught me the value of the saved dollar, the bright future and the beautiful soul. He has always been there even when I have failed him. I owe him.
These two men that couldn't be any more different and yet they were the men that were responsible for creating my foundation. Their music comes together in a montage that can only be seen in me and my actions and I think of them often when I recall their wise words in my daily life. Bill's voice comes through when buying cars, clothes, and food. Chuck's voice comes through when I write a post, laugh out loud, or eat a PB and J. Bill is the smell of the warm pine of Washington. Chuck is the sound of crickets, the feel of humidity and the taste of Coca Cola that is the Midwest.
I miss Chuck, he's been dead for ten years now and I miss our talks. I miss the way he smelled, his laugh and his clueless social bravado. It bothers me that I don't have him to counter balance my world like I used to. In the moments where I sit and watch something on TV that I know he would have loved, I miss him most. When I write political pieces, I hear his voice in my words. He's not here to share that with me, but I have him firmly implanted in my mind.
In closing, I think it's important to mention, should the occasion ever arise, that I think Chuck finally paid Bill back for everything he did for me and for him. Chuck's death made me appreciate Bill so much more than ever before. I know to embrace Bill and savor him endlessly, because one day I might be left with no music left to soothe my soul.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 9:14 AM
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