Eric the Fun – Page 4 – I have ALS and want to express my gratefulness for the wonderful life I've had.

“Imagine”–In Eric’s Words

As Sherry said in her post, we were introduced by our mutual friend Gina, and a HUGE thanks to you Gina for being an old-school “matchmaker” from the word go!! In the modern era of impersonal dating apps and such, your personal interest as a friend who thinks and cares about your friends was something I am more grateful for now than ever. Let’s face it—The odds of Sherry and I meeting on a dating app or at a bar, etc. were slim to none, and there is nothing as essential as a personal touch in most aspects of life. I sent Gina a few pics to forward to Sherry, and I guess she went with the “Paul Weller” one Sherry liked (see Sherry’s post), and I was lucky enough to get a date! Below is one of the pics Gina sent me, and it’s worth at least a thousand words. What man in his right mind would say no to a smart, beautiful artsy-looking chick in an artsy-looking photo, especially given what you all know about me!

Gina sends me this pic and asks if I would be interested in meeting her friend Sherry. Seriously?!!! I assumed it was a rhetorical question of course…

As Sherry pointed out, the timing was prophetic in terms of our first date with being the best “birthday present” I’ve ever received in my life. The entire “fixing up” process was fast, furious, and destined to be when it began on October 5 with a phone call from Gina; I sent an email with several pics the next day; Gina chose the right pic to send to Sherry; I got a positive response from Sherry on October 7, and I crossed my fingers while deliberately scheduling our first date for my birthday, October 9. Of course, I got lucky in several ways… First, October 9, 2015 just happened to be a Friday, which is definitely increased my odds of getting a date that day and not being rushed by Sherry having to work on a Saturday. I think we set a record for a first date and spent 5-6 hours together talking nonstop! Second, I had a good feeling about the fact that I had no birthday plans and that my last-minute birthday date with Sherry was really a form of destiny. Third, the fact that it was my birthday in the first place made the date extra-special, and Sherry pointed out how it came up in the conversation. And the confluence of timing continues to be extra-special to this very moment for both of us…

As Sherry mentioned, we liked to talk about every topic imaginable, but we also loved the outdoors, the gym, concerts, restaurants, traveling, and we were never lacking great things to do together which we both enjoyed very much. And as Sherry said, the conversations about people, philosophy, religion, atheism, music, humanity, truth, science, health, politics, health, medicine, social mores, family, the future, life, love, and death never stopped.

Being compared to anything associated with John Lennon, much less his greatest song, has to be the greatest compliment I’ve ever been paid. I’ve certainly been told many times I “looked like” John Lennon (I don’t think so, but I’ll take it!) or “reminded” someone of John Lennon, but being told I was like the existentialist ideal in Lennon’s greatest song (whether anyone agrees with every idea in the song or not) is about the highest praise I can certainly think of!

Besides the deep stuff though, I’m going to post some photos to remind me of all the fun places we went while we discussed the meaning of life. We went to some really cool places and had some interesting experiences both during and outside of our conversations as the world and life came to us!

Sherry & both knew lots of people and did tons of fun stuff together. And no, we were not the models although Sherry certainly had the brains for it–Hahahaha! See below…

For Sherry’s birthday, she wanted to go to Palm Springs and stay at a place called “The Parker.” It was a really cool resort where apparently all sorts of interesting people from SoCal went to get away from it all. I knew she was onto something as soon as we were checking in. The guy in front of me turned around and it was none other than David Spade. An interesting portent indeed! (And no-I don’t have an iPhone selfie of that…)

We spent most of our time chilling at the gardens, the pools and the bar/club talking to various SoCal peeps. The one thing I certainly won’t forget is being hit on not once, but twice by other couples in less than 48 hours! It’s my guess that The Parker was kind of a SoCal Swingers (or “Lifestyle” if you want to use a more discreet term for polyville!) getaway. One couple were a very attractive married couple close to our age, and the other was actually two women! You would have thought it was my birthday instead of Sherry’s–Hahahaha!!! We weren’t feeling quite that adventurous although I can say that it was still quite flattering to be asked by the “beautiful people…”

Funny retro signage at the Parker.
Funny retro props too!

Of course we had to do a sunset at the ocean…

Hiking was probably our favorite pastime together, and I think Sherry is still out there 4-5 times a week. Man–I really miss those beautiful trails together, and we took every chance we got to try them all out. When we stayed at Sherry’s, we would do the North Mountain/Piestawa Peak trails. When we were hanging at my house, we would do South Mountain. And wherever we traveled, we were always on the lookout for scenic trails.

We also did lots of other things including Vegas, Prescott thrift shopping and football.

And there was always music that we shared in common on more occasions than I can count. I don’t have many pics, but here was one Sherry took of me with the bass player from “Igor and the Red Elvises” at my friend Bob’s club the Rhythm Room. They are probably the most purely fun club band I’ve ever seen in my life! And I’ve seen literally over 1,000 shows in my lifetime.

If you do nothing else in life, be damned sure you see “Igor and the Red Elvises” at least once before you die. Seriously.

As Sherry mentioned in her post, one of our favorite places to go was my “ranch” out in New Mexico. It’s 800 acres of wilderness surrounded by another 3,000 acres of nature on three sides. A perfect place for us to hike, chill, and take beautiful photos. Sherry had quite a natural talent on both sides of the camera, and I chose one of her photos to represent my soul on page one of the blog. You captured my soul perfectly, and I love you for that Sherry…

Chasing Rainbows…

Chasing Sunsets…

Chasing the Scruffs too!

Chasing fitness always!

What means the most to me about Sherry is her jumping in to support me emotionally when I really need it most. I can honestly say that my life is absolute agony and hell a lot of the time with this nasty disease, and Sherry is really the song “Imagine” come to life in a very visceral way. She is a constant reminder and represents all of the awesome things I had in life, and she sure as hell isn’t going to let me forget that! I know it must be very hard on her to see me this way and remember how things used to be, but I think she knows that who we both are hasn’t really changed at all at its core. I may be staring death in the face, but Sherry is there for me in the true spirit of friendship and love as I imagine what might lie beyond and contemplate all the things we have talked about. I think I will forever imagine the image below, which I think encapsulates both of us…

Peace and much love to you too, Sherry…

“Imagine”–In Sherry’s Words

This post was written by my last girlfriend Sherry, and I am so grateful she was willing to share our story in her own words. It really means a lot to me–A lot more than you can even imagine…

Sherry & I on one of our first few dates. We both loved the outdoors together.

In Sherry’s words: On October 6, 2015 I received a text message from Gina, one of my dearest friends on planet earth, asking, “Hey, are you still single?” I replied that I was and then she said she wanted me to meet someone who she knew from the “industry.” Allow me to take a step back to 1994, when Gina and I were in the movie production industry. Both of us were repeatedly approached by people stating we were each other’s doppelganger. Naturally, we had to meet. One of us reached out to the other (I cannot recall if it was Gina or I), and the conversation went something like this: “Hey, so I keep hearing you are my body-double, and people keep mistaking us for one another, so perhaps we should meet.” We met at Rosita’s in Tempe, AZ and that was it. She was working on the film “Waiting to Exhale” (she had been in the industry a very long time) and I was working on my first film, “Flirting with Disaster.” Our friendship remained intact through the years, and Gina remained one of the most real, authentic individuals I had come to know, and she was like a precious gem in my life. So, back to the text message in October of 2015. When I replied that I was single, Gina sent me pictures of Eric.

“He reminds me of Paul Weller, lead man from The Jam, and he seems to have a funky style, so yeah.”

Gina shared our information, and Eric and I met a few days later. During the typical nervous question and answering session upon people meeting for the first time and peeling back the proverbial layers, I mentioned I had just celebrated my 50^th birthday, and had just returned from a month-long sojourn in Idaho and Washington where I went to reset after raising my kids. He mentioned was celebrating a birthday soon as well. “Oh really, when?” I asked. “Guess,” he replied. “Today?” I asked.

“Yes, today,” he said.

I thought it was interesting our first meeting was on his birthday (even as I wondered why he did not have other plans). However, as a huge fan of John Lennon, I thought it was cool he shared a birth date with Lennon. I knew this because I had just posted a link to an interview with Tom Snyder and John Lennon earlier that day. John Lennon’s activism for civil and human rights, his creativity and using his fame as a platform to raise awareness and mindfulness around peace, love and understanding always resonated with me. Quite simply, he was one of my favorite artists. I admired his intelligence and the impression he left in his wake.

Imagine, in my mind, was one of the most beautiful, poetic songs ever written, and it inspired a body of work that has continued to inspire millions for decades.

Exhibit B: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkgkThdzX-8&list=RDYkgkThdzX-8&start_radio=1&t=13

But I digress.

Eric and I got along very well, and began dating, albeit we took things slow.

We enjoyed hiking and going to the gym (he became my trainer), taking road trips to his “ranch” in New Mexico and other places, but most of all we spent a lot of time having long, deep conversations about: people, philosophy, religion, atheism, music, humanity, truth, science, politics, health, medicine, social mores, family, the future, life, love and death.

The biggest truth about Eric is: he loves life, more than anything…every moment, every experience. He is a compassionate, libertarian, life enthusiast, musician, activist and existentialist. In our time, he would always say, “I wish I could live forever,” which made no sense to me, because it is illogical (at least in one incarnation – who knows the absolute black and white or the expansive, quantum possibilities when it comes to the existence of the soul). So, discussions around mortality made him uncomfortable and sad, which is understandable (but I am a hard-core realist, so there is that).

But the moral of this story is…we come into this world, have the magnificent experience of life and the opportunity to meet and connect with amazing people who will leave an indelible impression on our lives. What a gift, regardless of whether it lasts a moment or a lifetime, I am so grateful to know and to have shared time with Eric, who is quite literally one of the smartest, individuals I have met.

I love this man, his voice and his passion for libertarianism, freedom, individuality, independence, expression, and LIFE… peace, love and understanding. Eric embodies what the song IMAGINE is about.

Think about it. And when you do, think about him. I do.

This is a picture I captured of Eric in New Mexico and it encapsulates his being and nature, which is beautiful.

IMAGINE

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today (ah ah ah)

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

You may say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

You may say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will live as one

The Cartridge Family

Alan, Eric, Bob & Craig “Cartridge” 2005

One of the more interesting bands I played in was a political parody band called “The Cartridge Family.” It came together around 1999 when a group of pro-gun types got together for the purpose of political activism during the 2000 election season. It was a mixture of conservatives and libertarians (and to be perfectly clear–I’M ONE OF THE LIBERTARIANS, AND I’M NOT A RED TEAM REPUBLICAN!!! See the memes below…) who agreed that the right to self-defense and the personal ownership of firearms was a legitimate freedom, and we had several meetings to strategize various protests, articles, political action, etc. that might draw attention to the right to keep and bear arms (known to us as “RKBA!”). There was no initial intention of forming a band, but there were some clever people in the group who oddly enough had some parody song ideas written down and even a verse and chorus or two.

We libertarians are the 5%, although we’re really only about 2% in my pessimistic opinion. The human chimpanzees are tribal animals for sure!

My libertarian view of current “Red Team/Blue Team” politics. They are two authoritarian gangs fighting for power and control over everyone else and their money. But the ultra-Red Teamers and I agreed on guns and a few economic issues, so The Cartridge Family was born!

As you know, I had played in many bands before and found this idea very intriguing to say the least, and so did a few of the other political activist guys who played or sang. Please don’t hold me to the actual details of how we ended up with the actual band, but after a few political meetings, Craig, Alan, Bob and I ended up forming an actual political protest band and began rehearsing. To keep things simple (OK—We were old and lazy or at least Alan was—Hahahahaha!!) and in the musical vein of the protest bands of the 1960s (think Dylan, Arlo Guthrie, etc.), Alan and I were the acoustic guitar players, and all four of us sang. Our plan was also to be mobile enough that we could show up at political rallies, street protests or almost anywhere else at a moment’s notice and perform with no need for power or piles of equipment.

We took some of the original parody song ideas and fleshed those out and then added a bunch more of our own into the mix. Our opening song (and probably our signature song as well) was a parody version of Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day” with lyrics supporting the RKBA. We wrote and recorded about 15 tunes, although we never really could sell the record because of complicated copyright issues and the legal quagmire surrounding song parodies in general (First Amendment? HAH!). (And we know because Alan got a law student to research this, and both written law and case law was all over the place!) Some of our other song titles included “Secret Gun Ban Plan” (to the tune of “Secret Agent Man,” “ACLU” (to the tune of “YMCA”), and “The Little Armed Lady from Pasadena.” I’ll attach a few so you can check them out. We recorded them in a real studio and they actually sound pretty decent.

We played all kinds of gigs in a 15-year period including nearly every “Freedom Summit” and AZCDL convention, several NRA meetings, and more street protests and other impromptu things than I can count. We campaigned against crappy politicians like John McPain and Dianne Swinestein. We mocked local politicians every chance we got, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. In case you’re wondering, I believe I thought up the name for the band (a parody on “The Partridge Family” for those of you old enough to remember that cheesy TV show from the ’70s!), but if the other guys remember it differently I’ll be glad to correct the mistakes my feeble old mind may make from time to time—Hahahaha! We all naturally took parody nicknames as well—Craig “.300 Win Mag” Cartridge, Bob “.50 Caliber BMG” Cartridge, Eric “.44 Magnum” Cartridge, and Alan “.22 Caliber Short” Cartridge. Alan had the biggest mouth in the band so we ironically named him after the quietest round of ammo!

Musically, we did manage to achieve pretty decent three-part harmony on a bunch of the songs, and that was a first for me. My other bands were typically groove oriented rock bands where jammin’ and dancing were the top priority, so this was a really good new thing for me. And it was a hell of a lot of fun to hear people laugh at the punch lines in the lyrics. I’ve been laughed at before, but typically not with full intention in most cases—Hahahaha!

Below are some photos of our gigs and mp3 files of some songs—We weren’t all that visually appealing, but we were pretty funny in the right crowd, and to be honest, I enjoyed the rare performance in front of a hostile audience when they would boo at the punch lines instead of laughing—It really was quite a bit of fun to piss off the anti-freedom crowd!

“That’ll Be the Day”–Our theme song.

OK–We couldn’t resist. One of the benefits of playing in the band!

Me and one of my guitar idols Ted the Sledge. Ted spoke at the NRA convention and we played. Talk about irony!

“Glock 17” was one of my personal faves. I had sung the Beatles version in a previous band…

We called this “911” but it was a parody of the Vanilla Fudge version of the Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hanging On.”

We played at the Constitutional Republican Convention in 2008 featuring the King of all Constitutional Republicans….

None other than my political idol Dr. Ron Paul, also known as “Dr. No” for all the things he thinks the federal government should NOT BE DOING! I played at several events in Vegas during Ron’s ’08 campaign as well, and it was always an honor to be part of spreading Dr. No’s message of minimal government.

A protest gig during the Recall McPain rally season in 1999.

“The Liberal Aisle”–A mocking of John McPain. This one was all mine, and Craig wouldn’t sing it at first because it contained the lyrics “liberal dung pile.” Of course the audience laughed their asses off and then Craig was all in–Hahahaha!!!

One of my favorites that Alan wrote. “ACLU” had 6 verses of 8 lines each. Alan worked his ass off on that one!! And then we all had to remember it!

Learning to Drive in 1975

Chapter 1

This might seem weird to some of you, but I’m actually quite grateful to have grown up in what were really two distinct technological eras. Of course human technology has always been advancing, and things were different between birth and death for our parents’ and grandparents’ generations, but the rate of technological acceleration seems to have gone off the charts in my lifetime. I’m amazed at certain things, and I’ve probably said to at least 100 people that if you had told me when I was 25 that I would be able to hold a tool in my hand (as I wave my iPhone around) that can access almost all of the world’s knowledge and communicate with over a billion people, I would have thought you were crazy. And all of this for under $1,000 and about $50/month. Wow…

The interesting thing about the technology of the 1960s-2000 and 2000-present is to me the way it has impacted the amount and types of freedom I’ve experienced in my life. Back in the “old days” of the pre-PC era, there was a great deal more personal freedom in many ways because nobody could “track” you, and there was no digital history of where you went and when you were doing what with who.

One glaring example of how things have changed is in the area of driving a car. Back in the old days, you had to learn to drive while you were as young as possible if you wanted to have any kind of freedom at all. The only way to interact with other kids your age was to physically get out of Mom & Dad’s field of vision and do whatever it is you wanted to do. Sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll were only available if you could go somewhere else to enjoy them!!!

During my childhood, kids started learning to drive first on their minibikes and go-karts when we were about 10 or 12. I got a go-kart on my 10^th birthday only because my Mom quashed Dad’s initial plan to get me a minibike instead. Dad had a motorcycle or two when he was a young man, but Mom said “hell no!” to the 2-wheeled tool of danger, figuring (probably quite correctly!) that a go-kart with 4 wheels was safer than a minibike with only 2 wheels. It mattered little anyway because the kids all took turns riding each other’s machines all over the neighborhood streets, our rather large yards, and in the farmer’s wooded trails that surrounded our idyllic “subdivision” of 12 houses on 2-acre lots. Talk about having it made as a kid! Once you were motorized, you were your own man (or woman) and had the freedom to cruise around at will.

Of course, by age 13 or 14 we were more than ready to aim for bigger and faster challenges, and that’s when our parents’ cars and the roads outside the neighborhood started looking rather interesting! I was staying over at my friend Eric D’s house (not in our neighborhood—about 3 miles away) one night in the 8^th grade, and we were 13 years old. Eric D’s parents had gone out for dinner and drinks, and Eric D. got the idea that it would sure be fun to take Mom’s Buick station wagon out for a cruise. I’m pretty sure it was my neighbor Chris and I in the back seat, and we picked up Eric’s neighbor Leo on the way down the road and were out on our first cruise in a real car! Well, Eric D. was a bit of a maniac driver considering his extreme level of inexperience, and I distinctly remember him burning rubber, skidding around corners and speeding like all hell! I was honestly a bit scared because I knew he was just making it up as he went along, but we had so much fun cruising around that before we knew it, two or three hours had gone by. I seem to recall Chris and/or Leo taking a turn behind the wheel (hey—we were all taught that “sharing” was an important virtue—Hahahaha!), but I declined and was happy just to be a backseat driver on my first clandestine road trip.

We decided that it might be smart to get home and park the car in the detached garage (they had a large lot out in the country) before his parents got home. Well it was already too late for that, because as we started to pull into their long tree-lined gravel driveway, we noticed that Eric’s dad’s car was back in it’s usual spot next to the house! Since we had to park Mom’s car in the detached garage anyway, Eric got the bright idea that we could turn off the car’s lights and drive through the apple orchard around the back of the garage and Mom and Dad (now sitting in the house) would be none the wiser. As we started to pull through the rather steep ditch and into the apple orchard in the dark, it appears Eric had forgotten about the rather large willow tree that was next to the apple orchard. CRUNCH!! went the Buick’s right front quarter panel and we were jammed in our tracks between the ditch and the tree!

We panicked for a minute and then shut the car off and contemplated what to do next. First we surveyed the damage—Yup, Mom was certainly going to notice that her car was quite smashed up and it didn’t happen in the garage! Next, we figured that if three of us helped push the car out of the ditch with one guy driving, we MIGHT get it out of there and moving forward into the apple orchard again. Eric D. was the biggest dude in our group, so I think my neighbor Chris drove while the rest of us pushed. Well, we did succeed and managed to get the car back into the garage and entered the house quietly hoping Eric’s parents were none the wiser (yet—Obviously, Eric would have to tell them something to explain the smashed up car!) His parents hadn’t heard a thing, so we all went upstairs to his attic bedroom and contemplated various ways to lie our way out of our “situation.”

To Eric’s credit he decided that it would be best to tell the truth, and we also reasoned that we should do it right now to score as many integrity points as possible AND because his parents had had at least a few drinks and were in a happy mood when we came in the door an hour before. This turned out to be a pretty smart move for some scared teenagers, and I figured I’d be in some trouble with my parents when Mrs. D told them we had been out cruising in her car. But, get this—Mrs. D. was so cool that she didn’t even tell any of the other parents about the cruising excursion! She was so impressed that we all came downstairs and admitted everything to her and Mr. D that we had learned our lesson and that there was no point in telling our parents. They scolded us a bit of course and rightly so, but talk about luck! I guess that honesty really is the best policy…

Chapter 2—Eric H. and Chris Learn to Drive

Well, Mrs. D turned out to be half right in thinking we kids had “learned our lesson” in terms of driving before we were legally old enough. My next-door neighbor Chris and I learned what we used to call “The Eleventh Commandment” in Catholic high school, and that was: “DON’T GET CAUGHT!” After that first joy ride, we both had a taste for the road and by age 14 we were continuously looking for opportunities to drive when our parents were out. I’ll come right out and say that Chris had more balls than I did in the instigating department, but I sure as hell never said no!

Our usual mode of transportation was Chris’ Mom’s car—a 1973 (I think) Olds Custom Cruiser. It seated 8 or 9, probably weighed about 6,000 pounds and was literally the largest passenger car on the road at that time. The only problem with that was that Chris and I were both late bloomers and probably were about 5′ 4″ and 122# at the time. The front seat literally swallowed us up! But being ingenious youngsters who weren’t going to get caught, Chris grabbed some phone books and a couple of his dad’s dress hats so we would look larger inside the car in case any cops happened to notice us out on the road. And we would of course be smart enough to get home before our parents did so we wouldn’t have problems parking the car!

To our credit, we did succeed in getting in at least a dozen excursions in within the next year or so, and half of them were in the winter. Unlike Eric D., we didn’t drive like maniacs—We actually taught ourselves to drive and wanted to keep doing it right up until we were old enough to get our licenses. Not getting caught and losing your “driving privileges” (and probably others!) was a big deal to us. We had quite a bit of adrenaline junkie fun teaching ourselves how to navigate that giant rear-wheel drive sled on snow and ice, and I’d have to say we got pretty good at it until the inevitable happened…

No, we didn’t get into a wreck or caught by the cops (although our hearts skipped a beat when they drove past us on the roads more than once!), but we took a chance we shouldn’t have. We usually only drove when both sets of parents were out for the evening. We were next door neighbors and you could kind of see each other’s houses through the trees, but one night we bent our rules and paid the price. Everything went fine on the drive, but when we brought the car back down his driveway, my Mom just happened to be looking out the kitchen window and saw the car pull in. She happened to know what Chris’ parents were doing that night, and it was too early for them to be getting home at about 9pm. Of course I unwittingly didn’t help matters by strolling in the door about five minutes after we parked the car, which further raised my Mom’s suspicions. She mentioned something about it to me, and I just shrugged it off and told her I didn’t know anything about it. Mom took it upon herself to call over there, and quickly found out from Chris’ older sister that her parents weren’t home yet, and it didn’t take too long for my Mom to get it out of her who was really driving the car when Chris’ parents were still out!

About 10 minutes after I got home, my Mom came into my room and had it out with me. Of course I lied and said this was the first time we had ever done such a thing, how sorry I was, blah, blah, ad infinitum, but she was still pretty pissed off about it. I was 15 by then and would be eligible to get my learner’s permit in only a few months, but she said my punishment was that I would have to wait another year!!! Well, the parents all had a talk about it over the next week or so and cooler heads prevailed. Chris and I both got our driver’s licenses on time, and the best part was that we already knew how to drive!!!

Europe 2013 and “Fun with the French Police”

One of the highlights of my life was a 23-day tour of Northern Europe with Sandy and our very good friends Marc & Traci. I have to give credit where credit is due (sorry, Marc—Hahahaha!), but Marc’s ex-wife Traci planned this excursion out to the last detail for months and did a great job of it! The rest of us were along for the ride, and what an interesting ride it was! The itinerary was a direct flight to London where we spent 4 days; a 13-day Baltic Sea cruise (it was July of course!), and we ended with 2 days in Amsterdam (duh!) and 4 days in Paris. The cruise stopped in Copenhagen, Berlin, Helsinki, St. Petersburg, and Tallinn, Estonia.

I’ll tell this story mostly in pictures with the exception of a few “interesting” incidents, and I’ll say that I really loved the trip because we got to experience so many different cultures and a ton of art museums, including the Lourve and the Hermitage (St. Petersburg’s version of the Louvre and a very apt description!). Marc and Traci weren’t into the art thing as much, so they would explore the city while Sandy and I were exploring the art. Then they would have amazing dinner and evening plans ready to go when we got out of the art gallery. Talk about a win-win situation!

Let’s go to Europe and see what happens next…

My first of many beers in Europe at Heathrow Airport. One of my favorite things about Europe was that you were allowed to drink your beer just about anywhere. “Open container” law? They had no idea what that even was and were amazed at how uptight America is in this regard.

Sandy & I on “The Tube” or whatever the hell they call it over there.

Our hotel
Good choice, Traci!

Marc & Traci chilling in the park near Buckingham Palace.

One of the major differences between Europe and the US is that the Europeans aren’t nearly as fond of either fat or guns anywhere on their bodies (or more accurately, guns anywhere except for a few in the hands of the police.) Now I certainly appreciated the European attitude toward physical health, but we had a lot of fun messing with their views on guns throughout our travels! Now before anyone jumps to conclusions regarding we ‘ugly Americans” with big mouths obnoxiously pushing our views on the “more civilized” residents of our host countries, I can honestly say that at least 80% of the time it was the Europeans who brought up the gun issue when they found out we were Americans! We seemed like normal, friendly, outgoing people to them, and they naturally assumed that we weren’t part of the “crazy, extremist” (or libertarian!) crowd who believed in gun ownership for the peons. Or at the very least, they were nosy and self-righteous enough that they wanted to give the “ugly Americans” a bunch of shit if they didn’t agree with the European view of things! We had at least a half dozen or so fun debates about this issue, and it was definitely an unexpected pleasure as anyone who knows me will understand–Hahahaha!

Marc & I asking these nice London police officers why the are UNARMED…. They explained that only “special police” in England were armed. We told them they looked “special” enough to us and that we would feel safer if they were armed since we obviously weren’t! They pointed to their radios and said that they could have the “special police” here in 10 minutes or so should the need arise. Seriously?!!!

But they were very sweet and friendly enough to pose for a photo with us! (And with me wearing my anarchist “anti-flag” shirt!)

Those of you who don’t know Marc need to know that he’s a criminal defense attorney (and one of the best in the state!), so when ex-wife Traci wanted to bring her weed stash with her to Europe, Marc put the kibosh on that idea in a nanosecond or less. But after a couple of days had passed and we adjusted to the time change, Traci decided she wanted to score some weed in London. Marc wouldn’t have anything to do with it, but given my past history, she talked me into helping her. After a detour to a guy who tried to sell us oregano (I’m not kidding—He still thought it was 1975 apparently!), we ended up making Traci happy, and that was a good thing considering we still had 20 more days in Europe together!

The White Cliffs of Dover
On our way to Copenhagen
Dressed for dinner on the cruise ship

Copenhagen

Christinana was a very unique part of the Netherlands because it was technically about 800 acres of its own country and not part of the EU either. I’m not going to go into it’s interesting history here, but you can tell from the pics that it’s a different place altogether. Weed is actually legal there and they grow it and sell it openly, but hard drugs are strictly verboten. We met some very interesting characters there, and although photos are forbidden, the most interesting character of all let us photograph him! Ironically, he was the only European we met that agreed with gun ownership for civilians. As you can see from his tattoo, he didn’t trust the police–Hahahaha!!!

“You are now entering ‘The Twilight Zone'”

Next stop–Berlin

Our next stop was Berlin where we met Alessandro and Domitia. They are still friends to this day! Alessandro and Marc had met on the internet, and we hit it off so well at lunch that they took us on a bus tour of Berlin!

We spent part of a day in Helsinki, Finland, and then it was off to Russkieville for two days. St. Petersberg was an interesting place and much different than the rest of Europe. Almost nobody speaks English there, and you can’t read the signs in the Cyrillic alphabet! The Russian government requires you to have an approved tour guide with you at all times, and that’s the guy in the pics. He wasn’t too happy with us when Marc & Traci ditched him at the Hermitage museum and wandered around town by themselves–Hahahaha!! I did manage to talk him down off the ledge and convince him that they wouldn’t get into trouble and to continue the Hermitage tour which Sandy & I traveled literally halfway around the world to see! (I think St. Petersburg is actually 11 or 12 time zones east of Phoenix.) We had an awesome tour, and to say the Hermitage rivals the Louvre is no exaggeration at all. The Russkies claim it is superior to the Louvre, and they could be right.

The Hermitage–The Louvre of Russia

Even in the Cyrillic alphabet everyone knows this place!

Next Stop–Tallinn, Estonia (I never thought I would get to go there in my life!

A portent of doom…
Enjoying my beer in the street as usual!
Heading from Tallinn to Amsterdam

Pretending to be Van Gogh

Last stop–4 days in Paris!

Girls shopping at Hermes…
Dude unwisely snoozing…
How much is that in dollars again?!!!

Even I needed a rest–The Louvre is a big place!
Me and Mona….

Of course, no trip to Paris would be complete without a visit to the Eiffel Tower, and and we arrived in the large park around the tower about an hour before sunset. It started out harmlessly enough with Traci & I sneaking a couple of hits while strolling through the Eiffel Tower Park with our non-smoking mates (somebody had to remember the way back to the hotel—Hahahaha!!) We checked out the tower for a while, took a few pics, and then strolled across the park again to chill a little bit more.

Traci and I wanted to enjoy the rest of our herbage, so we had a seat on the lawn in a pretty remote part of the park (I chose the spot, so what comes next is largely on me!), and fired up the rest of our “smoky treat.” Sandy (very wisely in hindsight!) stood about 50 yards away from us and was waiting for us to do our thing. Marc, being the Mr. Social that he is, sat down with Traci & I so we could all talk for a few. Traci & I passed the smoky treat between us a few times, and just as I was enjoying a big puff of the treat, four French police officers rode out of the woods on the bike path and stopped right in front of me! The main officer was a woman, and I exhaled a bunch of smoke she asked me in French what I was holding in my hand. (I don’t speak a word of French, but I was pretty sure that’s what she was asking!) I was speechless for a variety of reasons: First, I don’t speak French and don’t know the correct word for “weed”; second, I was scared shitless at being possibly busted for weed in a foreign country, and third, I could hear the words of a very good criminal defense attorney friend of mind echoing through the canyons of my admittedly altered mind. Those words were: “Never talk to the police!!!” Of course, the person who had said this to me 100 times happened to be my good friend Marc, who was sitting right next to me!

Just as I am thinking all of this (with a racing heart and feeling a little breathless to say the least), Marc leans in toward me with a shit-eating grin on his face and says (no, I’m not kidding!): “This is going to be an interesting conversation.” Seriously. That is exactly what he said and oddly enough, Marc turned out to be exactly right in the end. But at that moment all I could think was: “Easy for you to say—I’m the one sitting here holding a burning doobie with a French cop and her three friends talking to me in French!!! I did reply I English that I didn’t speak French, and she gave me a look of disdain as if to say, “Oh—A dumb American smoking weed in our park, and then proceeded to ask me in English what I was holding in my hand (as though she didn’t know!) I didn’t say a word because I knew if I said the wrong thing I might hurt my cause, but more importantly I knew I would never hear the end of it from Marc who was sitting right next to me. After a very long and awkward pregnant pause, Marc finally spoke up (it’s a good thing when your friend and criminal defense attorney is already there when the cops have questions for you—Hahahaha!!) and said something to the effect of: “I think we all know what that is officer.” There was a bit more of an exchange between them and I think he did finally admit it was weed (which I honestly can’t remember because I was high as all hell, scared shitless and still holding a joint in my hand!), and the French police officer told me to put the joint out and shred it up into the grass!! I was quite surprised and quickly did exactly that before she changed her mind. Imagine being told by the cops to destroy the evidence—Things were definitely looking up!! She asked where we had been before we came to France, and then told us that we weren’t in Amsterdam anymore and that weed wasn’t legal in France. At that point I mumbled an apology and thanked her, and Marc started into profusely complimenting the French police for their sanity and reason, pointing out that things would have gone quite badly for us in the US, and launching into a libertarian diatribe of sorts praising Europe in general.

At some point, they noticed Sandy standing in the wings and asked if she was with us, invited her to join the group, and we all talked for about another half hour or so about the differences between Europe and America, and a bunch of other stuff that Marc brought up. Mr. Social Libertarian was definitely leading the conversation after the first few minutes. The upshot of the situation was that their “search” of me consisted of asking me if I had anymore weed (I truthfully replied that I didn’t), a very cursory pat down of my pockets (“that’s just my wallet, officer”), and at the end of the day, they didn’t even kick us out of the park!!! Marc tried to talk them into an iPhone photo with us so we could add it to our collection of European police officers (see the British police at the beginning of this piece), but I think by then they had heard enough from Marc (who was doing almost all the talking by now), and politely backed away and rode off on their bikes.

Thanks so much, man!!! I owe you one. Talk about good luck that your close friend and criminal defense attorney just happens to be sitting right next to you when the cops catch you with weed in a foreign country!!! Am I seriously lucky, blessed, leading a charmed life or whatever words you choose to describe it? I am truly grateful for that experience indeed!!!

We spent another day or so in Paris, and I had my final meal in France—Steak tartare, of course—Yum!!! Sorry to all you veegie-weegies out there, Marc—Hahahaha!!! I just had to celebrate my freedom in a truly French way…

Celebrating my good fortune and wonderful life…

Waylon Jennings “Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be PAs”

As you already know if you’ve read any of my “work” stories, film and photo production often beats a “real job.” Occasionally we get to meet famous people, and Waylon Jennings turned out to be one of the coolest guys around. It was in the mid-90s when Marc & I owned the production motorhome, and I had it on a Chevy truck commercial out at Apacheland, a faux “western town” movie set out in Apache Junction. My motorhome was for the talent, which was Waylon Jennings, and I think the production department brought its own motorhome from Los Angeles, so the production office was in there or inside one of the buildings on set.

It was a rare rainy day in Phoenix, and I got Waylon and his wife Jesse Colter all settled into the motorhome, showed them where the fridge, snacks, and rest room were, and started heading out the door. I left a walkie-talkie on the table near them and told them to just ask for Eric if they needed anything while they were waiting for the rain to stop and we could shoot them outside with the Chevy truck as planned. As I was heading towards the door, Waylon said something to me along the lines of, “Hold on, son—Where are you going? It’s raining outside and this is your motorhome, right?” I replied that yes it was, and he proceeded to invite me to sit and chat with he and his wife for a bit. Of course, this was against the standard protocol on set (and both of us knew it)—The lowly flunkies like me don’t just sit around hobnobbing with the stars, but what could I say? I sat down across from he and Jesse, and he started talking to me like he was my uncle or something! He was very gracious and down-to-earth, and was mostly asking questions about me—Stuff like how I got into the business, and what I liked and didn’t like as though we were just two regular crew members hanging out on set!

I was a little uncomfortable at first, but Waylon was just such a chill dude that in a few minutes I forgot I was talking to one of the greatest country stars of all time and just got into the conversation. Unfortunately, the bitchy LA producer didn’t miss a thing, and within a few minutes of our conversation starting, she called me on the walkie-talkie and told me I was needed outside for something. Waylon told me to tell her that he still needed me in the motorhome for a few more minutes, so that was my response and we continued chatting. About five minutes later, Ms. LA Producer poked her head in the door and actually saw us sitting down at the table together talking and she was definitely not pleased! In her defense, I would have assumed the same thing she did (that I was some star-struck greenie who thought it was cool to hang out with the stars on set), and I would have been annoyed too. She again repeated her request that I was needed outside, and I’ll never forget Waylon’s response. He said: “What’s he gonna’ do out there while it’s raining? I might need him in here; we’re just talking, and we’ll all come out when the rain stops and it’s time to shoot.” I caught another dirty glance from Ms. LA, but I just kind of shrugged my shoulders in response. Not that I wasn’t having a blast chilling with Waylon Jennings, but she still acted like it was my idea and that I should have been rude to the man who was making my day!

The rain lasted quite a while, and we ended up talking about everything from the weather, to mundane aspects of production, and we fortunately did get to talk about his life and music too! I told him I played guitar, so we talked about guitars, bands, and a whole bunch of cool stuff. It turns out his wife Jesse Colter (a very successful country singer in her own right) was from Mesa, Arizona right down the road from Apache Junction where we were shooting, and that’s likely the reason the shoot ended up here in the first place. I was lucky enough to have the pleasure of Waylon and Jessie’s company for over two hours—An unusually long rainstorm for dry, sunny Arizona. Like I said, sometimes production beats a “real job” and I have to admit it was almost as much fun for me watching him piss off Ms. LA Producer as it was to hang with him for a couple hours. Almost…

Religion, Politics, Friendship and Love

Being an agnostic, anarchist/libertarian has always made me somewhat of a rabid individualist outlier (to say the least!) in a world of very tribal human primates, but I think it’s important to know that someone’s religious or political views typically have little to do with whether they make loving friends or not. I’ve always had close friends all over the religious and political spectra, and let’s face it—I’m the weird one if some of my stories are any indication! If I insisted on religious or political agreement, I wouldn’t have many friends. Just the opposite is true, because there are loving people all over the place, and I’ve been lucky enough to find that out with a vengence now that I’ve taken ill. (They may be politically or intellectually “confused” or “inconsistent” to me, but that just makes for some interesting discussions–Hahahaha! And a lot of them think my extreme freedom value system is equally nuts!)

My view on any potential afterlife is that this is an unknowable thing as long as we are alive. (For the record, I have very definite opinions about good versus evil, but that’s another discussion.) I will admit I hope there is a heaven (who wouldn’t—It sounds awesome particularly in my current situation!), but even if there’s nothing, I still can’t complain about my “55 rock star years” here on Planet Earth. That’s my rationalist view of things, but something really interesting and inspiring happened to me yesterday when my high school friend Dano reached out to me after hearing the bad news. (Side note: Dano wrote “1981 Overture,” which was the inspiration for my blog and the first essay I posted!) Dano knows I’m an agnostic (he’s a hard-core Catholic), and he told me he would come to see me next week. During our conversation he asked me if I would object to a Catholic priest hearing my confession, forgiving my sins, and praying for my healing or journey to heaven based on God’s will. Even though I’m an agnostic, this had to be one of the most touching and loving things anyone ever offered to do for me based on the incredible love in his own heart. Whatever turns out to be true in the afterlife, his main concern was that I was not neglected based on his belief system. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

But wait, there’s more! I was expecting Dan to organize the priestly visit when he was in town visiting me next week and it would be an experience we would share together. I hung up the phone with him around 10am, and my Mom arrived for a visit at noon. Like Dan, my Mom is a devout Catholic, and we were both surprised by a knock on my door at about 1pm. My Mom knows I’m an agnostic, and she was very surprised to see a Catholic priest at the door! It turns out she was thinking the same thing about the sacraments my friend Dano was (only she didn’t dare ask me), and the priest came in and administered the sacraments to me in front of my Mom!! Both my Mom and I were in tears, and Dano, I can’t thank you enough for giving my Mom and I that very special gift. It gave my Mom a huge amount of peace, and it all makes me wonder if things don’t happen for a reason.

To be clear, I’ve had two similar experiences with other Christian friends (both named Robert, ironically) who took me to church with them on more than one occasion and basically stepped up to help Eric the agnostic because of the love in their hearts. Both of them flat-out said to me: “It’s what we do because we want to do it.” I have other friends who are believers who have done tons for me in the past few months as my needs have increased. From their point of view, they see good or “godliness” or something inside me that I don’t even see, and want to share their love with me. I also have another very close friend named Robert who is more of an agnostic like me and still shows the same love the believers have! It’s exactly the same with my die-hard atheist friend Marc too. Both of these guys totally have my back, and all of this is a bit incomprehensible to me, but writing about it helps me sort it out a bit in my mind.

And if there really is a god, he definitely has a sense of humor. My friend Kevin and I used to mock Dano in high school when he admitted to meditating with the Bible under candlelight in his bedroom closet. His nickname: “Dan the Priest”—Now if that’s not some incredible irony for you! Kevin even made up some song lyrics we sang to mock him based on the Rush song “Temples of Syrinx.” The line we sang to Dano was (I think): “Dan is the priest of the Temples of Mequon.” (our home town). “His Holy Bibles fill the closet walls.” (Or something like that—Kevin can correct me since he made it up—Hahahaha!) If God made man in his image, he (or she!) definitely has a sense of humor! And if there really is a heaven, Dano will be having the last laugh! (And I will be meeting Jimi Hendrix and Tom Petty–Hahahaha!)

Eric Plays “with” The Effects

There isn’t a huge backstory to this other than to say that I am playing guitar on the attached recording with one of my favorite local bands from the 1980s, The Effects. I am not playing the live show though—I was never anywhere near that good! The Effects were a Phoenix-area band that played an infectious and very danceable (to me at least!) blend of reggae and ska with a definite rock edge. I was a regular fan since I moved to Tempe in 1983, and I got to know the guys in the band after showing up at so many gigs. They kind of disbanded in 1985 or so, but I had the pleasure to record a live show they did around 1986 or so for some private event.

That turned out to be a great opportunity, ironically because of the lousy sound quality in the hotel ballroom they played. I brought my old-school Teac Tascam 4-track cassette recorder and a couple of Shure 57s and tried to capture their live sound the best I could. The only problem was that the guitar wasn’t miked properly (if at all) in the PA, and the room was very boomy with too much bass and reverb, so I really couldn’t hear Kirk Hawley’s guitar on my recording to any significant degree.

I’m a guitar player, so the fact that you couldn’t hear the guitar made the recording somewhat useless, and I let it sit on the shelf for a year or so without giving it much thought. About a year later, I was recording some other stuff on my 4-track in my living room “studio” (hahahaha!) and the idea popped into my head that I should try learning one of my favorite songs off the old Effects tape and overdub a guitar part that you could hear. I learned their encore song of the night, “Tears of a Clown” and it was off to the races. I had two of the four tracks available, so I overdubbed my rhythm track on one and my lead on the other. As I said, I’m nowhere near as good as Kirk (or Donnie Dean, the Effects’ other guitar player), but I gave it the old college try in terms of doing my best to capture the groove and spirit of their vibe. As always, you be the judge…

“Tears of a Clown”

My 50th Birthday Parties

Sandy & I chillin’ in Milwaukee before the party. I didn’t suspect a thing…

OK—Mucho surprises here. Of course I knew when my 50^th birthday was, but I had no idea that there were even one, but two awesome surprise parties planned courtesy of my friends and family! The first party happened in my hometown of Milwaukee, and the general plan was for Sandy & I to fly in and get together with a bunch of my friends and have a few beers, etc. but no big deal (or so I was told). Well, it turned out that since some of my close friends and old rock bandmates were in a band together at the time (see “Flashback” story), they decided to schedule a gig at a local bar called “Puddler’s Hall” in Bayview to coincide with me being in town for my birthday. Once we got to Milwaukee, I was told about the gig and naturally attended. Much to my surprise, it turned out that a major purpose of the gig was for me to do some jamming with my old bandmates! We hadn’t played together in 30 years, but the upside was that we were all better players than we had been in 1982 when we were only 20 years old. Here are some pics and a video, and I’ll never forget that party. It was a very special evening for me and many thanks to my friends for setting it up. I hope I didn’t annoy all of you with any much-too-long guitar solos—Hahahaha!!! I’ll blame Steve the drummer for the one in the video just below. I was trying to finish “Hey Joe” and he just kept pounding away! Click the link below and you be the judge…

Hey-Joe-at-Puddlers-Hall-2 Download

It always felt good to jam with my bros!

Surprise Birthday Party Number 2!

Sandy & I came back to Phoenix after a great birthday week in Milwaukee and Chicago, and our friends Marc & Traci had another party planned a couple weeks after my birthday. They had parties all the time, and I had already had my big 50th surprise party in Milwaukee. I was told it was a small party and that it had a 60s/70s theme, and that all sounded good to me (I had plenty of wardrobe for it—Hahaha!). We arrived at Marc’s house and there were a few other cars parked outside that I recognized from our local group of friends, but nothing unusual. I should explain that Marc had the most awesome party house at the time (you can tell in the photos)—It was about 8,000SF and just made for entertaining. In fact, all Marc’s homes have been awesome party houses, and we’ve spent countless days and nights at them over the years.

As we walked in the door I honestly didn’t suspect a thing, and it was actually a little quieter than normal in the house. Sandy & I walked through the large atrium near the front door and nobody was hanging out except the dogs, but when we got to the main doorway to the main room, at least 50 people jumped out and yelled “Surprise!!!” as the music cranked up. I honestly was never so surprised in my life! After the party in Milwaukee, I thought that was it and wasn’t expecting this at all! Thanks Sandy, Marc & Traci for making this thing happen! You can tell from the pics that Sandy & Traci went all out on the theme décor, and we had another absolute blast as usual. Who else could be lucky enough to get not only one but TWO surprise parties for his 50^th birthday? Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! And who could be lucky enough to have so many close friends at both of them?

Much dancing was done, and that’s definitely my thing!!!

Michael Phelps’ Lighting Double–Or “It’s a Race to the Bottom”

Yeah, OK–I’m bragging. Deal with it–Hahahaha!!

The real Michael Phelps swims much faster than I do though!!

OK—No surprise endings here. Yes, I indeed got the opportunity to be Michael Phelps’ lighting double for a couple of hours on a still shoot in 2017. As many of you know, rock stars and athletes don’t waste hours of their time standing around on set while photographers and crews set up and tweak the lighting for god knows how long. That’s usually left to a lowly crew member to just kind of stand in as needed throughout the pre-lighting process of a shoot.

In this particular shoot though, the “still photographer” was really more of a videographer/DP and didn’t know much about lighting still photo sets in a studio. To his credit, he told his “producer” (and I use the term loosely—she was really his agent and knew little of actual production) to hire a stand-in who would wear the same swimming suit, etc. and allow him to light the shot as closely as possible before Michael actually went on camera.

The plan was to shoot Michael in the studio in the morning (which didn’t involve me), and then go to Papago Park around mid-afternoon which I had set up as the location scout/manager for them. Much to my surprise, I received a call from Ms. “Producer’s” assistant at 8:30 in the morning, many hours before I was supposed to meet them at Papago Park. She was very nice, but completely green and all in a panic because the lighting double they had hired hadn’t shown up and bailed out on them at the last minute. She inquired if I knew anybody who could be hired at the last minute on Saturday morning to head down to the studio immediately and do the gig. I was rather perplexed and suggested the obvious answer that whatever talent agency they booked the slacker from needed to send a backup dude pronto.

The PA was very nice (and about 18 years old!) but seemed not to know what I meant by the term “talent agency.” She informed me that she had simply called a friend of a friend and asked him if he would do it. Of course, I’m guessing this kid was all of about 20 years old as well, and didn’t see any problem with simply “changing his mind” (his car wouldn’t start—Seriously, dude?!) and leaving the shoot in the lurch. I asked young PA girl how much she offered to pay the dude to get out of bed at 7am on Saturday morning, and the mystery about why he wouldn’t show up was solved. $50. Seriously?!!! I told her I needed to talk to the “producer” for a second and she didn’t see any problems with the price or the way they had done things either!!!

I told them I didn’t have a handy list of swimmers or anyone else I could call on Saturday morning for an immediate job for the princely sum of $50, so I sighed deeply, muttered a few curse words under my breath, thanked myself for taking my 54-year-old ass to the gym the past few years, and got into my car. I took one for the team, but I will freely admit it was an honor to actually be able to pull that shit off at my age! I was annoyed at the time, but looking back on it now, I am very grateful to be offered that unique opportunity and to help out some clueless newbies in the process. The local crew was kind of looking at me funny wondering how the hell Eric the producer/location guy ended up in front of their lights in a bathing suit. And the state of the so-called “production” department was revealed to have become exactly the expression my friend Denise and I had been calling it for the past decade at least—“A race to the bottom…”