Gads.  It has been a long while since I tapped keys on this page.  I think it has been too long.  I have no doubt others might disagree.

This past Sunday the North Harrison High School Class of 2018 celebrated Commencement in the gym.  The place was packed.  It should have been.  These were great students and they deserved to be recognized.  I wish I could mention each one of them here.  I will, however, share with you a photo of my niece, Katie, walking to the stage to accept her diploma.  It was a very proud moment.  To know that her mother in 1984, me in 1986, her Uncle Darrell in 2001…I think, and now her in 2018.  All of my kinfolk graduated from schools in Mississippi or Louisiana.  So I think that is kind of neat.

Congrats and God Bless to all the Graduates!

Last week we lost the greatest football coach Indiana University has ever known.  Bill Mallory died after complications following a fall he took.  Tragic.  So very tragic.  I saw Coach Mallory a few years ago before an IU game.  He was 80 and he looked like he could kick my ass.  I think he could have.  That is also why he is the greatest IU football coach of all time.  He could still kick my ass!  Hired in 1984, Coach Mallory’s first IU team was 0-11.  I was a junior in high school.  By 1986 he had the Hoosiers in a Bowl Game for the first time since 1979.  He won Big Ten Coach of Year honors in 1986 and 1987 at INDIANA!  That is respect folks!  He took the Hoosiers to 6 of the 11 bowl games in school history.  He won two of three bowl wins in IU history. Of course IU in their infinite wisdom fired the man.  IU has not had a history of good coaching decisions.  There is not enough room here for me to give Coach Mallory the credit he deserves.

Bill Mallory Field @ Memorial Stadium is the only answer for that.

This past high school baseball season I had the chance to be Public Address Announcer for NHHS Cougar games.  It was a blast.  Thanks goes to Athletic Director Hal Pearson for letting me do it!  The team had a winning season and I congratulate them.  Coach Cody Johnson and his staff did a great job.

This past fall I wrote a piece or two about the NHHS Football team.  Brett Rudolph was a guy on the football team I featured in some of my writing.  Brett was the NHHS catcher this past year, as he was last year.  He is so gifted behind the plate.

In 1978 as a Brownstown Little League player, I played EVERY position in the field that year.  I played all the infield positions.  I played all the outfield positions.  I pitched (one game) and I caught a few games when I had to.  Looking back, I am thankful I can say that now at age 50.  At age 10, I was not so sure.

One of the things catchers do is follow the play down the first base line to catch up with any errant throws to first base.  The catcher reacts to the hit, runs down the base line and make sure the throws to first are true and if they are not, he finds the ball and makes the decision as to what to do with it.  The following sequence was taken in the first round of the sectional at Silver Creek…otherwise known as Sewer Creek.

The batter about to hit the ball.

Brett runs toward first.

Brett hustles his butt off to get down the line.  Don’t ever think a catcher just squats behind the plate all day!  Brett showed us how it is supposed to be done…again.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Not long ago today I worked up a sweat doing 40 minutes on the elliptical and a couple miles on the stationary bike.

These days not much can get me away from watching Moody Blues concert videos while I exercise.  I tried to start Hill Street Blues over again and that didn’t work.  It will, eventually.  I tried watching John Steed and Emma Peel again.  The English Avengers.  You may not know them.  You should.  They couldn’t do it for me.  I am still watching The Moody Blues.  It is a slow fade for me.  Knowing I won’t see The Moody Blues again.  That is odd.  The calendar has had a Moodies date on it more often than not since 1986.

Something captured my attention today and gave me a shiver up the spine that I rarely even get whilst watching The Moodies.  The fast nine qualifying for the Indianapolis 500.

Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  There is not another place like it.  I have seen concerts at Red Rocks, the Ryman Auditorium, and the Tanglewood Shed.  I have seen football games at Ole Miss, Neylan Stadium in Knoxville, and The Rose Bowl.  You could place all of these places inside the four turns of Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  It is a special place.

I wouldn’t know this if it were not for Adam Disque.

Living in Harrison County, a Southern Indiana county that is along the Ohio River and much closer to Kentucky than it is Indianapolis, we get our news from Louisville, of course.  We don’t gravitate to the north.  Most of my travels to Indianapolis the last twenty  years have been primarily for two things…to see The Moody Blues sing and watch Peyton Manning play football.

Adam Disque changed all of that for me.  He invited me to go on a field trip with the 4th grade class from Medora Elementary School some years ago.  I went.  I went back with them.  I went back with them again.  One time I took my dear wife, Carrie.  Looking back, it means the world to me to say I ate lunch with  4th graders under the Pagoda at Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  Thank you, Adam.

Not that I did not have an appreciation for the Indianapolis 500 and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  The race and place are hallowed ground for me.  I know it better than any other sporting event, except the Super Bowl.  It has been a tradition in my family to watch this race.  I can go back to remember when we listened to it on the radio live and watched the replay of the race later that night on ABC.  Was it delayed to us because we, living in Brownstown, were considered to be in the Indy TV market?  I don’t know.

But I do know I watched A.J. Foyt win in 1977 late that Sunday night after we had listened to the race sitting in lawn chairs in the front yard.

Today I watched Ed Carpenter, an Indy native, win the pole position for this year’s race.  I hope he wins.

One day I hope to get to the race.  Schedules and timing have not been kind of late.  But that is okay.  Listening to those cars go around that track is one of the most distinctive audible memories I have.  Carrie and I went to qualifications a few years ago. It is amazing.

Here are some memorable photos from IMS.

My dear wife, Carrie, and I on the Medora Elem. field trip.

My hero, Adam Disque, and his 4th grade class.  Without them, I would not know all I do today about the I-5!.  I am forever grateful.

The car that won the first race in 1911.  Ray Harroun was the winner.

Learning about the cars.

Iconic.

Yes, I did kiss the yard of bricks and I am glad I did!  A.J. Foyt and Pancho Carter and Mario Andretti drove cars on that space.  Wow.

I am proud to say I took this picture.  The most coveted yard in all of racing.

Thank you, Adam.

One of Gordon Johncock’s winning cars.

Speaking the Indy 500 Rights…

Danny Johnson

When folks talk to me about personal taste in music, book authors, sports, and travel spots I am quick to point out that we can’t love it all.  My personal testimony that I bring up in this realm is that I just plain don’t like strawberry ice cream.  I love strawberries.  They are a part of my youth.  So is Jay C brand Neapolitan my Mom bought at the Jay C in Brownstown when I was a kid and I wouldn’t put a spoon in that strawberry section on the left unless my life depended on it.  It has worked out so far.

On this past Saturday night, my dear wife, Carrie, and I were in St. Louis to see a music concert featuring the group Train and Daryl Hall and John Oates.

In this photo, Hall and Oates are joined by Pat Monahan of Train as they sing the song they wrote and recorded called Philly Forget Me Not.  It is a catchy tune.

Before the concert, I told Carrie when I think about Hall and Oates the first thing that comes to mind is being in the basement of the house I grew up in on Jackson Street in Brownstown.  I sat on an old couch in the unfinished basement we had.  There was a silver JC Penney mono radio that sat on the freezer bringing in 1010 WCSI in Columbus.  There I heard Casey Kasem introduce Hall and Oates hit Rich Girl on American Top Forty in 1977.  It is still palpable in my memory.  And before Daryl Hall and John Oates took the stage, on a screen was a barrage of likenesses of old 45s representing the hits they have had.  And the first voice to be heard before they took the stage was old recorded footage of Casey Kasem on AT 40.  I smiled.  It was nice.  I had it.

The concert was at the Scottrade Center.  There were at least 12,000 folk there.  The upper deck of the place was covered.  Not far from the venue is the old Union Station railroad terminal.  I thought that was fitting as Train took the stage.

The beach balls always come out during Save Me San Francisco.

As usual Train was great.  It is a high energy show that is one song after another and they go quick.  They don’t take time to listen to the applause.  They start singing another one.

Drops of Jupiter brought a tear to my eye as I knew it would.  I explained that in the last post.  To me Train brings a similar vibe to the show like that I get from The Moody Blues.  It is positive.  It is optimistic.  It is upbeat.  It is meaningful and full of love. Drops of Jupiter is Train’s Nights in White Satin.  I am so glad my dear Carrie said you need to give this group a listen.

I think they are great.

When they left the stage that is where the show’s greatness ended for me.

I appreciate Hall and Oates. Their longevity and staying power in a business that is quick to give up on artists who started after 1995 is noted.   And I don’t regret seeing them and staying to hear them.  Their backdrop effects were the best of ANY concert I have ever seen.  That was special.  Hearing songs I heard on the radio all my life is a cool thing too.  But I never bought a Hall and Oates record.  I have quite the music shelf.  Hall and Oates aren’t to be found.  No offense guys.  I don’t eat strawberry ice cream either.

Hall and Oates leaving the stage.

In the Moody Blues irony department, I have a ticket stub that says Hall and Oates were to open for The Moody Blues at Timberwolf Amphitheater at Kings Island in 1991.  They did not.  A band called Neverland did.  Like their name, I never heard from them again. So, 27 years later I finally catch up with Hall and Oates.

And I am glad Train was there.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

St. Louis.

Many thoughts and images come to mind when I hear the name St. Louis.

I think first about the St. Louis Cardinals.  No, not the ones playing on the west coast right now during baseball season which has allowed us for much better hotel rates near the Scottrade Center and downtown St. Louis with those Cardinals out of town.

I still think about the St. Louis Cardinals playing football in the old Busch Stadium that was a part of cookie-cutter stadium history.  Round and used for football and baseball for a time.  Jim Hart is still the quarterback.  Jim Otis and Terry Metcalf still run the ball.  J.V. Cain and Jackie Smith play tight end.  Pat Tilley and Ike Harris and Mel Gray are receivers.  Conrad Dobler and Dan Dierdorf play on the O-Line.  Jim Bakken is still kicking straight-on.  I better stop…my apologies to Roger Wherli.

How pathetic is that?  Forty years ago, that is how!

Thank God for music.  Tonight my dear wife, Carrie, and I are walking over to the Scottrade Center to take in a concert by Hall and Oates…and more importantly, for us, the group Train.  Their song Drops of Jupiter is an acquired taste.  For a long time I, like many, thought the song was overplayed.  I did not like it.  When it came on the radio I turned it in a hurry.  In 2013 Carrie and I saw Train live at Virginia Beach on a whim.  We were in the neighborhood and she was studying furiously for an exam she was about to take.  I thought she needed a break.  I looked at Ticketmaster and scored some sweet seats for a price that seems archaic now.  Anyway, that night I heard Drops of Jupiter for the first time like I needed to.  That in large part, is why we are here.  That and many other good songs too.  To share this with Carrie is priceless.

St. Louis?  Dred Scott.  Unreal slave gets his freedom story.  I never tire of hearing the result even though it is hard to take.  Still is a story that so shows the resilience of the spirit and the showcases a time that is hard to fathom.

Scott eventually got his freedom.

Below, this was on a building here in town.

Where did that go?

Lincoln had the house divided thing right, you know.

You looked around lately?  Wow.

St. Louis…

I think about Fred G. Sanford on Sanford and Son.  He used to talk about growing up in St. Louis.  “Back in St. Louis…” he would say.

My dear wife, Carrie, and I have been fortunate enough to travel many places.  St. Louis has not been a place we have frequented.  Music brought us to town in September of 2015 to hear Justin Hayward play in a hall that seats about 700.  Tonight there will be that many folks standing in line to use the bathroom at any given time.  NHL Hockey Arenas are big places.

That’s the Spirit!

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

And down the stretch they come!

Those are some famous words if you know anything about the Kentucky Derby.  I am not sure if those words are still uttered in a flutter.  I don’t think I have heard them in a few years.

If it were a football announcer, I would know.  It is horse racing.  I don’t know.  I can get to Churchill Downs in 45 minutes from my driveway and I have never been to the Derby Museum.  In my environ we are inundated with Derby-Fest activities and news and stuff leading up to the fastest two minutes in sports.  I have nothing against the Kentucky Derby.  I have been to Churchill Downs twice.  I plan to go with colleagues and friends, and my dear wife, Carrie, on June 7th.  I am looking forward to it.

Being in Southern Indiana…I am in one of those counites that is separated from Kentucky by the Ohio River…we get our news via the media of Louisville.  We are not greatly in tune with Indiana comparatively.  It is the nature of where you live.

I am picking Magnum Moon to win the 2018 Kentucky Derby to be run in a couple of hours.  Right now I am on the back porch by my lonesome and if the rain at Churchill is like what is falling here, I feel for the folks coming in from all over the country to show off their Derby fashions…they will be under ponchos in many cases.

This past Tuesday evening I sang at a County Hymn Sing service being hosted by Unity Chapel United Methodist Church.  I sang two songs.  One of them I wrote and the other I co-wrote.  I did not write the words to the second one.  I wrote the music.  That is a first for me.  I chronicled this happening of events here a little while ago.  My collaborator, Jackie Gayheart, was in attendance and I was fortunate enough to call her out and tell the folks there about how the song was written.

When I saw Jackie after it was over I conveyed the moment reminded me of a line from a movie I had first seen thirty years ago.  The movie was “Broadcast News”.  The quote was “What do you do when real life exceeds your dreams?”  The response was, “You keep it to yourself.”  But that is what I was feeling Tuesday evening.  I’d say it was a good evening for both Jackie and myself.

Tonight on HBO The Moody Blues will be part of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction show that was taped on April 14th.  The night of the event, The Moody Blues played four songs and closed the show.  They were the final act.

Through the power of television, Bon Jovi is going to be the last featured artist and The Moodies will have three of the four songs they played that night on the broadcast.  What else would you expect from a place that kept them out for twenty-five years.

Justin Hayward on the Moody Blues: “I imagine now it’s coming to the end.”

That is a quote from Justin Hayward’s website.  I heard him say this in a BBC Radio 2 interview this week. The Moodies have a handful of shows at one venue this fall in Vegas. I told you here before, the concert Carrie and I saw in Nashville at the Ryman last July would be the last Moody Blues concert we attend.  It was the perfect place to leave it.  Great venue.  Great performance.  Days of Future Passed in its entirety live. Great fans.  The Moodies are going to go out the way they came in and that is riding the wave of Days of Future Passed that gave us Nights in White Satin.  I have enjoyed it.

Thankfully, I won’t have to suffer through Bon Jovi’s rambling tonight before The Moodies play…so that slight is a good thing after all.

Will we see Justin Hayward live in a solo show again one day?  I think so.  As he says, if the flesh is willing he will still be at it.

Me, I am back to writing a few songs myself and finding what adventures I can find up and down the neck of the old six string.  It is a glorious journey.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson