What is worse than sport halls of fame?

Answer:  The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Or as I like to put it…the Cleveland Museum of Musical Criticism as told by Journalistic Neurotics claiming to understand Rock and Roll.

There should at least be this criteria for being inducted into a the Rock and Roll Hall: Most of us have heard of something you sang or played on!

I don’t have a personal beef with The 5 Royales…or The Paul Butterfield Blues Band…or Lou Reed (so I have heard of him)…or…believe me I could go on.  I do wonder how they can be in a hall of fame.

Answer:  Music Critics.  They are worse than sportswriters.  They know it all.  They try to be creative because they don’t play an instrument themselves.  You can throw a laptop across the room and it won’t make a good sound.  You can blow on a pen and piece of paper and no one will care.  So…they care little about what most of us like and use their own agenda to try to sway us to their liking.  In the meantime…they waste their time. I gloss over music reviews in my newspaper.

You who know me probably guessed it.  The Moody Blues are not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and I hope they never get their.  They deserve better.

Reasons The Moody Blues have not been inducted into the AMERICAN hall?

Could be:

None of The Moody Blues ever wore an earring.  Playing sell out tours in 2014 isn’t cool. Selling 70 million records just doesn’t cut it.  No members dead of drug-overdose.  Lead singer married to same lady since 1969.  Too many all over the world know the song Nights in White Satin word for word.

Who knows?  And really, who cares?  The Moodies just keep on rocking like the “Singers in a Rock and Roll Band”  they are.  Where is there a better hall than that?  Maybe in the kitchen.

I WROTE THOSE WORDS IN 2015.  I never dreamed the Moody Blues would ever be inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  They made it this past April.  Made what, I don’t know.  I will find out in two days.  I have been to the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame.  That is the only Hall of Fame I have been to.  I won’t visit the Pro Football Hall of Fame as long Ken Anderson is not there.

But I do plan on visiting the Rock Hall of Fame as Carrie and I will be passing through Cleveland in a couple of days.  It is tragic that it took The Moody Blues this long to find their way to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  But, for better or worse, they got there.

So…I approve.

I read recently that Justin Hayward will probably hand his Rock and Roll Hall of Fame trophy to a family member…who could blame him.

Speaking the rights in a cool Amherst, Mass not looking forward to 106 degree heat index values that await in Southern Indiana in a few days.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Written on a cool evening in Amherst, NH.

Not long ago I spoke on the phone with my friend and former college professor from days gone by, Dr. Millard Dunn.  Our speaks were special.  Not just because he is helping me work through a piece of writing that is quite ambitious and daunting, our speaks were special because today I took a leisurely and meaningful stroll around Walden Pond today and thought about Millard as I made my way.

I have written here on occasion about Dr. Dunn before.  His influence on my studies and my life are immeasurable.  I can’t thank him enough.

In the fall semester of 1993 I took an American Literature class with Dr. Dunn.  It was marvelous.  He studied Henry David Thoreau and I got wrapped up in it.  So much so that twenty five years later I am visiting Walden Pond and calling Dr. Dunn on the same day.  That is a special sequence of events that does not come along very often for a teacher and a student.

The replica cabin and a statue devoted to Henry David Thoreau.

It was a picture postcard type of day today at Walden Pond.

The mile and a half trail around the pond was a thing of beauty.  I walked along the water and along a path above the water.  

I brought along Dr. Dunn’s book of poetry Places We Could Never Find Alone.

At the site of Thoreau’s cabin, I took this photo.

A copy of Walden at Walden Pond is rather surreal.

It was a memorable time today.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

As I type on this Saturday morning, it is 61 degrees and a cool wind is blowing down from the North.  My dear wife, Carrie, has a sweatshirt on.  I am chilly in my shorts and t shirt.

We are in Hancock, Mass. within a place commonly known as The Berkshires.  This is the fifth consecutive summer we have visited this place.  When we like a place, we stick with it.  But there is always something new to be found here.  There are museums and points of interest within an hour drive of here that we keep saying we will make to “someday”.  Personally, I like the weather here.  It is cool and I don’t have as much trouble with my pipes.  I breathe better here.

Earlier in the week we took my sister to a concert at The Tanglewood Shed in Lenox to see Alison Krauss.  The Summer home of the Boston Symphony, Tanglewood is a special place.  Lynn flew up on Sunday to Albany.  She stayed three nights and we had great time.  I know she enjoyed it.

At the show, Lynn found someone in the place she knew from junior high school days.  Amazing.  Facebook came in handy this night.

A couple days ago Carrie and I went to New York City.  Talk about a place with endless stuff to see.  We did not make it to Times Square or Central Park.  We did make it to the 9/11 Memorial and had a guided tour.  We made it to Ellis Island and rode by the Statue of Liberty on the way.  We walked over the Brooklyn Bridge.

We woke up at 4:30 here in Hancock.  We drove to Poughkeepsie, NY and caught a Metro North Train to Grand Central Station at 7:30.  We got to New York at 9:15 for the day.  At 8:30 PM we took the train back to Poughkeepsie and checked into a hotel for the night at 10:30.  It was a long and fulfilling day.  The two other times we have done this, we drove back to Hancock and dodged deer all the way and got back here in the wee hours of the morning.  No more.  Don’t forget, we hit a deer coming back from a concert in Saratoga Spings a few years ago.  Anyway…we had a nice visit to NYC.

Grand Central Terminal is a very loud and busy place.  But the high ceiling makes it almost reverent.

When I was in the 11th grade I wore the same dark blue adidas t shirt every Monday of the school year.  It was my Monday shirt.  Carrie and I have made this trip to NYC three times in the last five years and I have worn the same shirt to NYC each time.  It is my NYC shirt.

The 9/11 Memorial was our first destination of the day in the city.

Words can’t do much here.  I remember teaching the day it happened.  I walked into the room of a colleague and he was watching TV and told me what had happened to the North Tower and we were both dazed.  Watching the TV, we saw the South tower hit by the second plane.

On the place where the towers stood, you can’t imagine how quiet a place in the largest city in America can get.  This is a large area and it is treated with the civility and the dignity and reverence it deserves.  So with that, we know there is still hope in the face of trial in this country.

The front and the back of Ladder 3.  So many folks were save by police and fire rescue workers who gave their lives for others.  It is an amazing story of heroism on a day no manual or class can prepare you for.

We left 9/11 to find…

I could not help but capture this photo and think about some of the difficulties some folks much less fortunate than I  are going through these days.

We stayed on the boat and got off at the next stop like so many did before in late 1800s up until around 1924.  We saw Lady Liberty and we saw a place that represented hope for so many…

Countless immigrants were inspected as they climbed these stairs to be processed in.  Officials looked for folks breathing hard as they climbed steps, limping as they climbed steps, disorientation as they climbed the steps, and it was not an easy process for those coming over to a place they dreamed of and, most of them, found the home they were looking for.

Talk about one step up and two steps back…look at this.

One could look around this place for days.

After leaving Ellis Island, it was back to Manhattan.  We walked up Broadway and took a right.  That led us to something I have always wanted to do…walk over the Brooklyn Bridge.

It was great.  The view of the skyline from the top of the bridge can’t be captured with a photo I can put here.  It is unreal.  One of those experiences that outdoes the expectation.  Carrie was right, she called it a walk with 2000 of our closest friends.  The diversity…the languages…the dress…the walking patterns…the bikes in their lane…the people…all having a good time and all enjoying a day in the sun on the first day of Summer in New York City 2018.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

I don’t know what else to do.  Instead of writing a great deal, I am going to post a few photos.  Many of them, actually.  It is what my mother would want me to do.

Yesterday we picked up my sister, Lynn, at the Albany, NY airport.  She is here with us for a few days and that is wonderful.  I type these words from Hancock, Massachusetts.  There is a ski resort across the road and the Jiminy Peak slopes are a lush green and very empty.

Over the last few days my dear wife, Carrie, and I have seen some beautiful sights.  Some were natural wonders.  Others were man made natural wonders.  I suppose now is when I share a few of those.

Geneva on the Lake, Ohio.

The fish sandwich at Eddie’s Grill was amazing.  The place has not changed much in since the mid-50s.

We had our rematch.  Here is Carrie on the 18th hole last year.  I bested her by a few strokes.  She wanted a rematch.

Here she is at 16 this year.  What a match it was on the oldest putt putt course in America at Geneva on the Lake, Ohio.

At the 18th we both needed this put to force a playoff.  The balls went in to rabbit holes and we were tied.  I walked over to the counter and asked for two balls to play the 18th again for a playoff.  No one was behind us so we went back.  Carrie made the par 2.  I hit a hole in one.

We stayed at a neat spot with a great view of Lake Erie.

We ate dinner at a table under that tree and watched the sunset.  It was very nice.

I was walking outside of Bart Bigham’s English classroom this past semester and heard him as he waxed poetic on well…poetry and verse.  He made the point of folks flocking to Niagara Falls to see what?  Water that is not unlike what we have running from taps all over the school building.  But put in this mammoth context, water can move folks to tears.  Words…which we use daily to communicate…in the right place at the right time can move folks to tears.  Behind me are two books of poetry I brought with me to soak in while on this sojourn.  They are important to me.  Mr. Bigham knows of that he speaks.

Oh Canada behind us.  Found out they would not deliver a pizza 1.2 miles from Canada to our hotel.  Really I don’t blame them…especially these days.

We left Niagara Falls and went to a new destination for us, Port Henry, New York.  It is an old Iron Ore town along Lake Champlain.  The few TV stations come in from Burlington, Vermont up the road and across the lake.  It is a peaceful and friendly place.  The Iron Ore business ceased in 1971.  It reminded me of another little town I know that once thrived just a little bit more.

We had breakfast in this diner and it came HIGHLY recommended by folks from there and visiting again.  It did not disappoint.

We ate two meals here and spent two nights in a room upstairs on the corner of this building.  Tim, our host, was gracious, insightful, and just plain fun to talk to.  I think he was delighted that we were not afraid to chew the fat a bit ourselves.  He had a good day when he decided to open this place up.  The area needed this shot in the arm.  Friendly folks were on the porch from 11-7.  This photo was taken after the place closed…but…we had to porch to ourselves until we decided to retire for the evening.

The next day was a bucket list day for me.

It started with a 5:10 AM sunrise over Lake Champlain on St. Patrick’s Catholic Church’s back yard. This is where we found this…Vermont is on the other side of the lake.

I have never held a hockey stick.  I didn’t watch but a fraction of this year’s Stanley Cup to see who won the NHL Championship.  Still, there is a time and place in sports history that means more to this old football player than any other time.  Lake Placid 1980.  The USA Hockey team defeated the Soviet Union 4-3 in the what is called the greatest sporting event of all time. The Miracle on Ice it is called.  Don’t repeat that to the players of the team though.  They will tell you it was hard work and not a miracle.  But, what else can you call it?  If you have to settle for Miracle on Ice, I’d say you have indeed done something special.  A nod goes to Al Michaels, of course.

So Carl made it to Lake Placid.  He had a great time.  So did Carrie and I.

Around the corner from the sign Carl was on, you could find the ski jumping venue.  These photos do nothing of their imposition on the landscape.  They are amazing.  120 meters is the highest.  It has a cell tower on it.  They still use this for competition.

We walked around town and saw some other sights in Lake Placid.  The village you can imagine was just like you would.  Streets lined with food, shops, lodging, and nice Mirror Lake behind the main street.

And you can find the occasional bobsled to pose with.

So a trip to the Olympic Museum was in order.

Herb Brooks’ pregame speech before the game.  I was fortunate enough to speak to Coach Brooks.  I called him when I was taking a Sports History class and I was writing a paper about the 1980 USA Hockey team.  Deflecting the glory from himself, he told me to talk to the players.  They won it, he said.

This game was played at 5 PM and was not shown live television.  The network did show a replay of it at 8 PM.  That was when we heard Al Michaels call, “Do You Believe in Miracles? Yes!”

A wall away from where the game was played, I and others, watched it again like we were there for the first time.  In some ways, we were.

After the visit to the museum it was upstairs.  I was nervous, but I was ready.

So was Carrie…

Then…

Not much has changed.  The red seats are original. There are a few rows of bleachers around the top and are original.  The scoreboard is the only major change this arena has had since it was built for the 1980 Winter Games.

Carrie and I took a tour of the place and Scott, our tour guide, was magnificent.  He knows some of the players from the team.  When asked, toward the end of our tour, if the movie MIRACLE about the team was factual, he said players have given him a 95% on the finished product.  That was a relief.  Some films don’t translate like they should.  I know.

Whomever put this tour together had some good sense.  In the upper deck, in Section 56 by the way, sat a couple 32 inch TVs.  Carrie and I and one other couple were the only ones being walked around to see this stuff.  In Section 56 we watched the last two minutes of 1980 USA victory over the Soviets.

Having guys on the ice while we watched did not hurt things.

It was amazing.

Carrie went down and took a picture of the bench where the USA team sat while I just sat in a  red seat and took it all in.

It was a moment.

When we got off of cloud 9 and back to Port Henry we went back in time from 1980 to 1759 when the British took control of a Crown Point, a fort along Lake Champlain that was built around 1735 by the French.

We walked in this thing!

And so it goes.

Thankful by the moment and trying to speak the rights…

Danny Johnson

When you gonna write another speaktherights post?  That was the question I got today.  I thought, well, at least someone is reading.

It happens like this every year.  The end of the school comes around and I am so wrapped up in the end of the year activities that I don’t make time to write.  Thank God I was born in March. Those of you reading regularly know what that means.

I will be finished with the 2017-2018 school year, at least in an official capacity, this week.  It has been a good school year.  I thank all of my colleagues for doing an exemplary job in helping the student body of North Harrison High School to be better students and better people.  That is only accomplished if you have a building full of good teachers, administrators, and staff.  I think we have that.  I am fortunate to be among them on a day in and day out basis.

I look at dates and pay attention to historical factoids.  A few days ago I saw an “On This Day in Moody Blues History” timeline.  It was June 7th.  They had listed that the Moodies played a concert at Riverbend in Cincinnati on June 7, 1992.  I turned my head sideways when I saw that.  That is wrong, I thought.  That was on June 10th.  I checked my ticket stub.  It was June 10th.  A week later I saw them at Deer Creek.

Today would have been Vince Lombardi’s 105th birthday.  Vince Lombardi was born on June 11, 1913.  I still believe Vince Lombardi is the most influential figure in the history of modern sport.  Why?  Have you ever heard of The Vince Lombardi Trophy?  That is the trophy that goes to the annual winner of the Super Bowl.  It is named after a coach that won his Super Bowls before the merger of the NFL and the AFL.  There are 32 teams in the NFL and they are all working, sweating, begging, borrowing, and stealing for a Lombardi Trophy.

On this day in 1979, John Wayne died.  He was 72 years old when he died.  How can that be?  72?  The Duke?  Is that all?  Cancer does not discriminate.

My dear wife, Carrie, and I are heading out of town Wednesday for a few days of rest and relaxation.  I will certainly find time to write then.  I have to.  My Mom is depending on it.  And our friend Carl is ready to go too.

Carrie has demanded a rematch on this putt-putt course, the oldest putt-putt course in the United States in Geneva on the Lake, Ohio.  Lake Erie, that is. (I think I can beat her again.)

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

I was sitting at my wife’s grandparent’s kitchen table on October 31st in the year 1996 watching the local news.   On this day, I got the news.  Bill Mallory had been relieved of his duties as head coach of the Indiana Hoosiers Football Team.  I likened it to the day the football music died….again.

A day before my 11th birthday on March 17, 1979, my Dad came home, walked into our living room at 204 South Jackson Street in Brownstown and sat on the couch. He told me he had been relieved of his coaching duties at Brownstown Central High School where he had been the head football coach for nine years after three years of being an assistant.  The football music died.  Fortunately, the band struck up again and we were at North Harrison High School the next season.

Those were tough days for me.  I didn’t want to leave Brownstown when I was a kid, but in retrospect I think it was a good thing.  Have you met my wife?  When Coach Mallory was no longer the coach of the Hoosiers I knew we were in for a long cold winter.

Saturday at Indiana University’s Memorial Stadium Carrie and I attended a Celebration of Life in honor of Coach Bill Mallory.  He died on May 25, 2018.  The music didn’t die this time…but there was a sad tune playing for sure.  Sad, but optimistic.  Pride was in the air.  It was a product of doing things the right way.  It was a product of doing things The Mallory Way.  This way produced Mallory Men from Miami of Ohio, Colorado, Northern Illinois, and Indiana University.  They were all accounted for Saturday on a hot day in Memorial Stadium.

I shook Coach Mallory’s hand when I was in high school.  We were visiting practice and one of his graduate assistants, Gil Speer, introduced me and my Dad to him.  My Dad was Gil’s coach in high school 1974-1977.  He said some complimentary things to my Dad with regard to Gil.  Gil is still coaching.  In addition to working at Zionsville High School leading a very successful business program, Gil coaches defensive backs at Franklin College.

At a young age I knew Indiana had stuck in their thumb and pulled out a plumb when they hired Coach Bill Mallory.  I saw a few practices.  He saw everything on the field.  He was one of those.  The ball carrier was taking it up the gut and he saw that and how the receiver wide to the opposite side did not sell the play and got reminded of it even though the play was for big yards.  Success was an every play, all time thing for Coach Mallory.

So here we were in Memorial Stadium nearly twenty-two years since Coach Mallory led his team out of the tunnel.  The last game he coached at Memorial Stadium was November 16, 1996 against Ohio State.  I was not there.  My dear wife, and new bride of eight months, and I were in Oxford watching the Ole Miss Rebels host the LSU Tigers with Aunt Barbara.  The Rebs kicked off early.  They got handled by the boys from the Red Stick.  As we hurdled down I-55 back to Jackson after the game I, for fun, tuned into 970 WAVG the Louisville radio station that covered the Hoosiers at the time.  Miraculously, the game came in.  WAVG is not a powerful station. We listened to IU and Ohio State on our drive back to Jackson.  IU lost 27-17.

Twenty-two years later.  Don Fischer, the Voice of the Hoosiers, said it best.  In the 36 football seasons before Coach Mallory got to Bloomington in 1984, the Hoosiers had five winning seasons.   In the seasons since Coach Mallory was the head coach in 1996, Indiana has had one winning season.

In his 13 years as head coach, Coach Mallory had seven winning regular seasons.  The 1986, his third team, finished 6-6 after a losing to Florida State in the All-America Bowl.  I watched that one playing cards at Mick Rutherford’s parents house.

Anthony Thompson, the greatest Hoosier of them all, spoke and gave a prayer.

IU players and Indiana State University players were in attendance.  Curt Mallory, Coach’s youngest son in the head coach at ISU.

There have been many changes to Memorial Stadium since Coach Mallory led his teams here.

Neither end zone was filled in when Coach Mallory was leading the team.  Had he not led when he did, they wouldn’t be completing this work.

On the aisle between section 111 and 11 I sat with my Mom and Dad for many a wonderful Indiana University Football games.  I cherish those times.  The rides up to the game.  The fellowship.  The good crowds.  Keith Jackson and Bob Griese were in The House for the Ohio State game in 1988.  That was the greatest game of them all.  Indiana beat Ohio State 41-7.  That is not a typo.  The Hoosiers have not bested the Buckeyes since.  But they will.

I agree with Don Fischer.  Coach Tom Allen, the current Indiana University coach, will lead the Hoosiers to better days.  As I sat and watched the 2017 Rose Bowl, I wrote Coach Allen a letter of encouragement and belief.  I hope he got it.

One of Coach Allen’s assistant coaches, Mark Hagen, a Mallory Man and IU linebacker 1987-1991, was the last speaker we listened to Saturday.  He spoke of IU beating Ohio State in 1987 and how OSU coach Earl Bruce called it “The darkest day in OSU football history.”  Coach Mallory took that as slap in the face.  Wait til they get to our house next year was the sentiment.  Hagen told the story like it happened yesterday.  For many of us, it still feels that way.  IU 41-7 over Ohio State in 1988.  I know this is a restatement.  It is that special.

So special I brought my ticket stub from that game to Coach Mallory’s Celebration of Life.

I handed this ticket stub to good hands Saturday.  It is a moment I will cherish and celebrate in honor of all of the Mallory Men.

Speaking the Hoosier Football Rights…

Danny Johnson

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