Rock and Roll Never Forgets…neither do I (PART I)

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While my dear wife, Carrie, and I have seen Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band sing three times, he is elusive when it comes to getting good pictures.  A Bob Seger show is not about lights.  A Bob Seger show is not about what images are flashed on a screen.  A Bob Seger show is not about filling a hall with synthesizers.   A Bob Seger show is about Rock and Roll.  Pure songs.  Pure sound…clunky at a rare moment…solid as a, well, rock the rest of the time.  It is a lover of American FM Rock’s dream.  Background music floods you and reminds you of where you were and whom you were with as Seger sings about “Mainstreet”, “Night Moves”, and “Katmandu”.  Wow.  I can get there with ease.

What follows is as a piece of writing I want to share with you that was published in 2006 when Bob Seger turned out a new album for the first time in many years.  The record was called Face the Promise.  I hope you enjoy it.  I sure did.

 

I Waited for You, Bob Seger  (2006)

 

The first time I heard it, I got goose bumps.  Could it be?  Am I the victim of a cruel joke?  Did the air stop moving? Am I really supposed to trust my auditory canal here?  Is this really on the radio?

When it was over, I was still here.  The hands on the clock were still moving.  I was not dreaming.  I was listening to Bob Seger.  The song is called “Wait for Me”.  Bob, you’re not the only one who has been waiting.  Even though, like a rock, you’ve never gone away, I have been waiting.  I’ve been waiting for this song.  I have been waiting for Bob Seger’s new album, the recently released Face the Promise.

A promise was not delivered here.  It was a gift.  Simply put, I never thought I would hear anything like this from Bob Seger again.  Suddenly I was back in a high school locker room in the seventies when my Dad was the head football coach at Brownstown and I was hurtling toward age ten. In those days I was schooled on Aerosmith, Led Zepplin, Ted Nugent, Boz Scaggs, and the perennial favorite, Bob Seger.  In 1976 he released the classic album Night Moves.  In 1978 we heard from Bob in the form of Still the Same.  Hits off those albums included Night Moves, Mainstreet, We’ve Got Tonight, Still the Same, Old Time Rock and Roll, and Rock and Roll Never Forgets.

I never forgot either.  While the only two I did any homework on later in life were Bob Seger and Boz Scaggs, the last whispered wish of age (to live it all again) brushed across my face and blew my hair as I listened to the new Bob Seger song.  Though we’ve heard from Bob Seger as the years have gone by, thanks in part to radio friendliness and a Chevy ad campaign that has taken Seger’s classic music and turn it into a fixture like a comfortable couch because we’ve heard it so much thus somewhat devaluing his special talent, his last album was release in 1995, and it was not a memorable effort.  I have it sitting on the shelf and couldn’t name two consecutive songs off of it to save my butt.

Facing facts isn’t always a joyous thing to do.  I don’t recognize hit radio today.  I look at the Billboard Hot 100 and ask, do what?  I see names like Kid Rock and can’t help but think about Fred Flintstone.  I expected the group Green Day to be comprised of a few horns and a drum or two from the Notre Dame Marching Band. And what about the group called The Barenaked Ladies.  That shouldn’t be printed in mixed company, let alone the focus of any singing.

I guess that’s why this is so special to me.  Superman took his cape out of the closet and he ironed that sucker.  He blew the dust off his microphone and delivered.

My music heroes will be going away soon.  The Moody Blues are all between sixty and sixty-five.  While I saw them live again this year, I also remind myself I saw them live twenty years ago.  And some in the audience this year saw them nearly forty years ago.  But The Moodies hit the road year after year unlike any other British Invasion contemporaries.  They still love playing live and their devoted fans respond in kind.  I’m on twenty-nine Moodies concerts and counting, myself.  The Moody Blues and so many of our other favorites are like the rest of us…not getting any younger.

My lovely wife, Carrie, and I have never seen Bob Seger. With any luck that will change, I’d like to believe Seger plans to go out on the road to support the new album.  How could he not?  He’s Bob Seger…Travelin” Man.

Speaking the Rights…with more Seger Speaks to come

Danny Johnson

Footballs are BROWN

*Editorial Note:  I am sitting here at home with one eye on the Patriots and the Ravens and one eye on speaktherights.com.  I have to write something this evening and I kind of don’t want to.  I don’t want to put a final punctuating period on a piece of prose I have been looking forward to writing since early October last.  The idea just clicked in my head and I have been tossing it around ever since and I have enjoyed every minute of it.  Hence, I don’t want this story to have any end punctuation.  I might just leave off the final period.  Though the story may end, the adventure continues.

Footballs are BROWN

A few minutes ago I exchanged text messages with my dear friend Jerry Brown.  Jerry and his son, Clay, and his brother, (Tom) “Harv” were featured in a speaktherights.com post that was written in September.  I was reflecting on a high school football game I had attended and the many layers of significance the night represented for me.

That night Jerry was coaching, Clay was playing quarterback, and Harv was broadcasting the game on the radio.  For over forty years this family has been putting the BROWN in Brownstown Central Football.

Never does a football season come that I don’t think intently and deliberately about Brownstown Central Football.  That is where I fell in love with the game.  My Dad was the head coach of the BCHS Braves from 1970 to 1978.  I was ten years old when he coached his last game there.  In March of the next year, a day or two shy of my 11th birthday, the school board at Brownstown decided they did not want my Dad coaching the team anymore.  I was a sad youngster.  The field I played my games on as a pee-wee league player would not be the home field I would play my high school games on.  I was in the 8th grade when I played on that field again.  I was a North Harrison Cougar and not a Brownstown Central Brave.  It was very awkward for me.  My Dad did coach my high school team at North Harrison and I would play inside the confines of Brownstown’s Blevins Stadium on two occasions in high school.  As a freshman in 1982, North beat Brownstown 27 to 14.  In 1984, the Cougars beat the Braves 59-0… Jerry Brown and I, high school juniors at the time, were on the same field…but we were not teammates.  I still remember how strange that was…and how much I hated that aspect of it.  One of the best friends I have ever known…still to this day…was on the other team.

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The Cougar in 1984.

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The Brave in 1985.

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Finally Braves teammates in 2014.

Know that football is a tough game.  There are aspects of this game that I am so delighted that I was privy to.  Teamwork.  You have to have it if you are going to be successful.  Toughness.  Physical toughness and mental toughness are essential to understanding the game of football.  I miss it.  I still miss playing it.  I miss the camaraderie that goes with it.  For the past near twenty years, I have worked in schools that do not have a football team.  If they had, I would have coached.  Never say never.

Among my cronies, my memory is legendary.  I have not forgotten much.  There are moments and sounds associated with this game that I hope to never forget.  The people are what I remember the most.  I can rattle off the names of players my Dad thinks the world of and a few names he probably wishes he had never heard.  That is what happens when you coach.  When a coach says the team has a “graduation problem”, it might mean they lost some key guys to graduation or it might mean it is a shame a few of the current seniors were not seniors last year…then they would be gone too.

When you coach and when you play football, it becomes a way of life.  A coach’s time is not his time.  It belongs to the greater good of the team.  Coaching is not easy.  A  high school coach must manage personalities of players and managers and sports writers and fellow coaches and administrators and parents…all of which offer good and bad.  Players contribute to the good of the cause too.  Instead of sitting on the couch eating Twinkies and watching reruns of Hogan’s Heroes, the player lifts weights and runs and studies and makes good decisions to help his body stay out of harm’s way…unlike some of his classmates.  There is a sacrifice that is made for the good of the cause that affects the coaches and the players and their families.  Thank God we have folks willing to put a portion of their livelihood on the line partly contingent upon whether or not a sixteen year-old hangs on to a pass in the end zone late in the game.  Yes…it is a risky business.

Tom and Gleda Brown had four children….four boys: Steve Brown, Jim Brown, (Tom) Harv Brown, and Jerry Brown.

 Steve Brown, the oldest, did not play football.  He was in the last graduating class of Clearspring High School west of Brownstown in 1972…I think.  This was a small school that did not have a football team.  His son, Scotty, did play for Brownstown.  We’ll get to him later.  I have no doubt that if Steve had played football, he would be remembered.  The mean ones usually are.  When I was a kid in the 70s spending time over at Jerry’s house, Steve would come around with his mirrored sunglasses on ready to kick the butt of any eight year-old that got in his way.  Though he was ultimately harmless, he put on a good show.  He taught us to value fear.

Jim Brown, a 1976 graduate of Brownstown Central, played football for my Dad.

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This is Jim.

Jim Brown wasn’t the greatest athlete in the world but he sure played like it.  My Dad never kept many newspaper clippings from his coaching career. He is just not that type.  He does have a picture of Jim being honored as a senior for being a….I think it was….12-time letter winner during his high school career.  Jim played football, basketball, baseball, and participated in track and field…with an emphasis on field.  He was a senior on a team that played a game at Paoli against the Rams in 1975.  Brownstown won the game 76 to 0.  Someone commented that was Brownstown’s opening ceremony for the upcoming Bicentennial.  Jim was the first kicker in the family.  He started it for the rest of us.

One of my fondest memories of Brownstown Central Football features Jim Brown. It is an audible memory.   I can hear it right this moment like I could hear it forty years ago.   Jim was about to kickoff to start a game.  The opening kickoff of a high school  football game is special.   The teams are spread out on the field unlike they are on any other play, as the tension of the start of a game is flying around along with the ball that just left the foot of its deliverer.  In a scene like this one, Jim Brown was about to kickoff to start a game.  One of Brownstown’s greatest athletic supporters, Maurice Hobbs, was sitting near me and she cut through a cool October night (it was dark) with the following edict: “Boot it, Jim!”  He did.

For the past several years Jim Brown and I have had an opportunity to keep up with each other to a certain degree.  Jim runs a very successful Sporting Goods store that supplies many of the schools in Southern Indiana with what teams need.  One of these schools is the one I am employed by.  Our athletic director always gives me a heads-up if Jim is scheduled to come by.  We talk candidly.  I am always delighted to see him.

Like Jerry, Harv Brown too had a son that would play quarterback for the Brownstown Central Braves. Harv played high school football for BC during the years 1980 to 1983.  His son, Jake, played from 2008 to 2011.  I was doing a pregame show on the radio one Friday night before a high school game.  I had Harv on as a guest.  This was long before he would be calling BCHS games on the radio.  This past fall he had me on as a halftime guest.

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September 2014

 

When I interviewed Harv many years ago, I called Harv the “Godfather of Brownstown Youth Football”.  In 1989, Harv helped revived the youth program and it was no longer called the pee-wee football program. They renamed it  the 56er program.  One would think it was named so because its participants are 5th and 6th graders.  I happen to believe it was called 56er Football because when Harv played high school football from 1980 to 1983 he wore number 56!  Just kidding.  Coach Harv Brown was at it from 1989 to 2005.  That is a great run of helping youngsters.  He has been doing Braves radio since 2011.  He and his partner, Harry Rochner, do a fine job on 96.3 WJAA.

I thank Harv for his dedication to helping improve the horizon of football and good citizenship in Brownstown.  As a player, as a solid parent, as a broadcaster, as a coach, and a friend to  the program…Harv has done Brownstown a great service.  I thank him again.   Harv was the next kicker in the family, taking up where Jim left off.

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At center….#56….HARV BROWN!  (The crowd roars).

Harv’s son, Jake Brown, played quarterback for Brownstown from 2008 to 2011.

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Jake Brown, QB.

This past week I have heard the following phrase attributed to a sportscaster that recently passed away.  With all respects…I first heard it on the radio listening to Jack Buck and Hank Stramm calling Monday Night Football when Stramm said about Bob Griese: “He is as cool as the other side of the pillow.”   That is how I would describe the play of Jake Brown at quarterback.  Though I did not see him play many times, I was always impressed.  His command of the field was fantastic.  He never seem to get too high and never seem to get too low.  He had the field presence and demeanor of a leader that is rarely seen on a high school field.  Harv told me the years Jake played went by way too fast.  I have no doubt. Jake’s junior and senior years saw the Braves win twenty games and lose three.  Not bad.

Jerry Brown and I are very fortunate.  Well, at least I know I am.  He is one of my dearest friends.  We were in each other’s weddings.  We got paddled by the principal together when we were in the 4th grade.  Our offense?  Chewing gum in music class.  What can I say, 1977 was a simpler time.  We listen to each other.  He too is an educator and I am so proud of his work as a teacher and a coach.

As I alluded to earlier, it was tough to be on a football field with Jerry having a different colored shirt on.  It just wasn’t right.

Jerry was a kicker too.  He wore number 57.  Being a kicker also, I look back fondly on the times we kicked together at his house at the time.  Our crossbar was an electric line.  It was fun…swinging our legs together.  We took it serious.  We tried like heck to out kick each other.

When we were seniors he kicked a 33 yard field goal against my team.  I can still hear my Dad, as he was Jerry’s opposing coach, and what he said as Jerry was lining up his kick.

“Come on, Jerry, put it through there”, my Dad mumbled.  It was the only time in over twenty years of coaching did my Dad root on an opposing kicker in a relatively close game.  We lost 17 to 7.  Dad had cheered on Jerry’s brother Jim when he was kicking for him ten years earlier.  Right is right.  Good is good.  Jerry’s kick was good.

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Jerry in the 9th grade.

Jerry has been a high school football coach since 1994.  He has been fortunate enough to work with Coach Reed May.  What Coach May has done with the Brownstown Central Football program since he arrived in 1993 has been nothing short of phenomenal.

In observing Jerry in his football environs, I have seen a coach that loves the game…but most importantly…he wants to do right by his players.  He is tough.  He is consistent.  He knows when to give them the business and he knows when to give them an ear…or an ear-full.  He, like me, has not forgotten what it felt like to be behind the face-mask.  That in itself is a wonderful gift.

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Jerry addressing the team. You would have thought E.F. Hutton was speaking here.

Jerry’s son, Clay Brown, was a senior for Brownstown Central this past football season.99980004

He wore Jim’s old number…15

I got to see Clay play a few times and it was a joy each and every time.  I think as a junior he threw 41 touchdowns and only 4 interceptions.  As I am not the Elias Sports Bureau, don’t hold me to that. This past year was much of the same.  Clay quarterbacked BC for three seasons.  The past two years they won 22 games and lost 2.  Wow.  Like his cousin, Jake…their Dads were centers and they were quarterbacks…Clay was very subtly in charge on the field.  I saw him talk a ref into changing out a ball at the line of scrimmage once.  I just laughed.  You could tell he knew the playbook inside and out and down to the copyright date.

If Clay decides to continue playing at the next level…and he has the talent to do so…I look forward to watching him play some more.  If he chooses not to, I certainly respect that too.IMG_0536

 

Jerry and Clay victorious post-game 2014.

I was at Blevins Stadium sitting with Gleda Brown and her son, Steve Brown, as we watched Steve’s boy, Scotty Brown,  take a kickoff back against Salem for a touchdown.  Right up the gut if I remember correctly.  He was barely touched.  I was impressed with his speed.  I was more impressed with his cool demeanor. I don’t know what got into these younger kids.  When Jerry and I were playing we were both nutty as fruitcakes.  Scott, Jake, and Clay were better players and better teammates than most any others you will ever find.

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Scott Brown played for Brownstown Central from 1988 to 1991.

Scott was tough.  I remember sitting there that night with his grandmother and his Dad as he returned a kickoff for six.  As usual,  I just took it all in.  I was glad to be back at Brownstown and thought it so novel to watch another Brown play.  Twenty years later we would see more with Jake…and now Clay has wrapped it up…at least for a while, I suppose.

What we have is a legacy of football..one that won’t be forgotten.

I am so fortunate that I have been here to bear witness.  It has been my pleasure.

Tom and Gleda Brown are not around to read this.  I wish they were. They were my parents away from home. I wish they both could have seen all these grandchildren play like the champions they are.  Champions in football?  Who cares!  This is a legacy that has shown and is still showing us Champions in Life!

Speaking the Gridiron/Friendship/Thankful Rights…and not wanting this to end

Danny Johnson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOWLED OVER…and other admissions

I got bowled over.

On my last post about the College Football Bowl Games I picked I reported that I had picked 17 winners and 7 losers.  I was feeling quite good about myself.  I started to think not only was I having a good time…but, perhaps, I actually knew a thing or two.

Wrong.

I know nothing.  If only there were only those 24 simple game..

I got my hind-parts handed to me with the rest of my picks.  Let’s start with the fact that I picked Alabama to beat Ohio State and Florida State to beat Oregon….thus landing Bama and FSU in the National Title Game.  Including the title game, I lost all three.

My beloved Ole Miss Rebs wasted gas money getting to Atlanta.  A refund should be given to every fan that spent any of their discretionary money on attending this game over the sum of quarter….as in 25 cents.  The fans showed up.  The players did not.

18 winners and 21 losers….that was Bowl Picking Effort.  This from a man who picked 110 winners to 40 losers leading up to the bowls.  I am delighted you don’t have to pay to read this.  I am paying for enough for both us…I’m a proud man.

The National Championship Game to be played on…get this…Monday Night…only a dollar figure could move the Saturday mainstay to a Monday Night.  I have said I will not watch.  I have been lying.  I will watch the first half and decide if I should brew a couple cups of coffee to maintain my interest from there on.  Ohio State?  Yuck.  Oregon? Duck.  Still, know this…the SEC got the humble pie they deserved.  It was just a matter of time.  It always is.  Bear Bryant coached his last game at Alabama in 1982 in the Liberty Bowl.  Nick Saban coached his first game at Alabama in 2007.  He’ll be done some day and then they will be reeling again.  Good luck to the man that has to replace THE MAN.  Ask Ray Perkins.

This past Monday I looked at Carrie, my dear wife, and told her it was the first Monday Night we had not had a meaningful football game to watch on television since August 25th.  I don’t count pre-season NFL football.  If you are trying to make a team, you can count it.

Honestly, I am glad the season is over.  I am ready to give my eyes a break.  I watch too much football.  Today it was VERY bright as I drove home after work.  I put my sun shades on.  It felt good to have them on again.  I had not put them on in a while.  And yes, it was COLD…and it is COLD as I write this.  Single digits.  Windchill factors in the minus-double digits.  I was listening on internet radio to 104.9 The Surf, Hilton Head today.  Someone on there said the windchill was going to be 0.  Early last week I was walking on a beach there watching the sun come up as I was wearing a pair of short britches.  Curious.

I want to thank Carrie for getting me an IPOD for Christmas.  I had one.  I lost it a few months ago.  I hope I lost it.  I sure hope no one stole it.  It is so good to get my music back.  Moody Blues at the ready.  My IPOD is a mixed bag….outside of the Moody Blues songs that number over 100 I am sure.

On my IPOD you will find:  ABBA, a-ha, Air Supply…I know, I know, Al Stewart, Alicia Keys, Allison Krauss, April WIne, Asia ( a great deal of it), Barbara Streisand, The Bay City Rollers, The Beatles, The Bellamy Brothers, Bette Midler, Billy Joel, Billy Swan, Bob Seger, Boz Scaggs, Bruce Springsteen, the Byrds, Carly Simon, Carole King, Christopher Cross, Coldplay, Creedence, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, Dan Folgelberg, myself,  The Dave Clark Five, David Foster, Debby Boone (Yes, that song), Diana Ross, Dion, Don Henley, Don McLean, The Dream Academy, Duran Duran, Dwight Yokam, The Eagles, Earl Thoma Conley, ELO, Elton John (Lewis Grizzard said that sounded like a toilet manufacturer), ELP, Eric Carmen, Faith Hill, Fastball, Foo Fighters, George Harrison, George Strait, Gordon Lightfoot, Huey Lewis and the News, Jimmy Buffett, Joe Cocker, Joe Walsh, John Barry, John Fogerty, John Lennon, John Mellencamp, John Parr, Johnny Cash, Justin Hayward, Little River Band, Madness, Mark Knopfler, Mark Shultz, Merle Haggard, Mike +The Mechanics, The Moody Blues, Moving Pictures, Neil Diamond, Nena, Night Ranger, OMD, The Outfield, Paul Anka, Paul McCartney, Phil Collins, The Prentenders, Procol Harum, Ray Charles, The Righteous Brothers, Rita Coolidge, Roberta Flack, The Shirells, Soul Asylum, Steve Earle, Styx, Theodore Gile, Tim Krekel, Train, Traveling Wilburys, Travis, U2, Van Morrison, Wetton/Downes, The Who, and Willie Nelson.

Call me a softy if you wish.  I can live with that for a very long time.

ALBUM

Speaking/Singing the Rights.

Danny Johnson

 

Bundle Up…Hill Street Snacks await

Bundle up.  It is cold out there.

“Let’s be careful out there.”

That was the edict of the roll call Sergeant on the 80s television show Hill Street Blues.  I wrote here some time ago that I procured the entire series and I have been watching it as I exercise on our equipment downstairs.  Tonight, as I raised my legs up and down with resistance and pushed back and forth on what is called an elliptical machine, I began watching season 5.  It made me sad.  There are only seven seasons.  I am over half way there.

HILL STREET SNACKS

So I have replaced Hill Street Snacks with an elliptical and an exercise bike and some free weights.  Once upon a time it was different story.

Hill Street Snacks was kindly of a contest.  It was a test of culinary will.  Mine.  These days you see television shows on the Food Network that show creating a meal as a competition of speed, accuracy, and taste.  I was doing this thirty years ago as I was watching Hill Street Blues with my Dad on Thursday nights.

A Hill Street Snack started with a decision:  What to make to eat!

French Toast?  A good Hill Street Snack.  A bunch of it.

Bacon Eggs Toast?  A great Hill Street Snack.  We’re talking 4 eggs, a half a pound bacon, and 4 to 6 pieces of toast.  Good God Y’all!  It’s true.  I did it.

Chili Dogs?  The ULTIMATE Hill Street Snack.

No matter what the Hill Street Snack…it was designed  to be prepared around all the commercial breaks.  There was a commercial at the fifteen minute break.  There was a double commercial at the bottom of the hour…commercials and a teaser  “Hill Street Blues will be right back”.  Then there was the fifteen minute left commercial.  After that…you eat your Hill Street Snack during the final segment.

I had a advantage cooking at my parent’s house.  If need be, I could dip my head below the stove’s exhaust fan and actually watch the television…although the decibel level of bacon frying might have impaired my ability to clearly pick up the show’s dialogue if the heat was too high.

Chili Dogs prepared for a Hill Street Snack…my favorite such snack:

At the fifteen minute commercial you hustle.  You run to the pantry and find a clogged artery in a can…Armour Star Chili.  You open the can and dump what you can into a pan and turn that heat up.  Grab another pan and fill it with water and put four hot dogs in it and turn that pan up to high to boil the wieners.  Before the the first break you grab an onion and some shredded cheese out of the fridge and put it on the counter to use during the long break at the bottom of the hour.  You also turn you oven to 375.

At the long thirty minute break your hot dogs and chili are getting there and are about ready.  Grab that onion and chop it up quickly…big chucks are okay. You grab a rectangular cookie sheet and put it on the counter.  Then you grab a package of hot dog buns out of the bread keeper.  If you feel you are losing time, you can rip open the package and take out your four buns.  You know you can put the leftover buns in a plastic bag later, if need be.  You then place you opened four buns on the cookie sheet.  Place a hot boiled wiener on each of the four buns.  Then pour your warmed up chili liberally over the hot dogs.  Grab a handful of onion and place it on a chili dog.  Repeat this three time over the other dogs.  Then pile each of your four chili dogs with as much shredded cheddar cheese as you have.  Put that in the oven…and about this time Hill Street is returning from its long commercial.  Watch the show and enjoy…as you look forward to the next commercial.

At the last commercial, you head to the kitchen and grab the biggest plate you have.  Take the chili dogs…covered in cheese and onion…out of the oven and place them on your plate…all of them.  Grab a fork and..since I was a growing boy…I poured a tall glass of 2% milk to go with it.

As you watch the final segment of Hill Street, you enjoy the Hill Street Snack and try not to get anything on the couch.

Wow.  Those were good times.

And probably why I am watching these shows in 2015 from the comfort of an elliptical machine as I sweat instead of eat.

It was worth it!

In fact, when I watch the final episode, I am going to take it over to my parent’s house and get my dear wife, Carrie, and our two boys, Jarrett and Cody, and I am going to make a Hill Street Snack for them one last time.  My culinary acumen is never better than when I am preparing a Hill Street Snack.  Thirty years later, I think I still have what it takes.

Let’s be careful out there.

Speaking the Rights.

Danny Johnson

 

Hilton Head…North and South

My dear wife, Carrie, and I made it back home this afternoon after most of a week at Hilton Head, South Carolina.  We stayed at a place called Shipyard in a group of condos that were the closest to the beach of any on the 880 acre property.  We were just about two and half blocks from the ocean.  We could have stayed another night, but we needed to get home.

I am so delighted we were able to share this great trip with my sister and her daughter.  We tried to get our nephew to come too.  He wanted to stay home.  His loss!

Hilton Head is every bit the golf paradise that is advertised.  Out the window of the place we were staying was a lagoon, trees, other trees with Spanish moss hanging on them, and we could see the 150 yard marker of the 6th fairway of the property’s golf course.

On New Year’s Eve, Carrie and I visited Harbour Town.  This is home to Harbour Town Golf Links where the RBC Heritage PGA event is played annually.

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Here Carrie and I are on the modest lighthouse that looks over the harbor and you can see part of the 18th fairway behind us.  As you can see…we had a nice day.  This was New Year’s Eve.  Though we left after a SPECTACULAR sunset, there was a ball that was dropped from the lighthouse to celebrate New Year’s.  Of course, it was a LARGE golf ball.

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The 18th green

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Me standing near the 18th green

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The Lighthouse

Hilton Head was great.  It really was.  What is wasn’t was a Southern place.  People there were there to have a good time.  They were not rude.  They were not real friendly.  The best way I can put it is that it is like Florida jumped over Georgia and landed on a piece that is Hilton Head.  Southern Accents?  You’ll find more of them up North in Wilmington, NC.  Friendly on the beach?  No.  Cordial.   Would I go back again?  Tomorrow!  It was a nice place.  And no…I did not play golf.  If I go back, I will.

104.9 The Surf…a great radio station… is not to be missed and worth the visit on its own.

Carrie and I usually plan our getaways months in advance.  It was strange and good to go somewhere on the spur of the moment.  It more than worked out.  Oh, Carrie and I did see an alligator as we were on a hike.  We did not have a camera at the time.

Speak the rights.

Danny Johnson

 

 

 

Welcome 2015

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This is the first sunrise of 2015.  I hope and pray all find a reason to embrace it.

Carrie, my dear wife, took this picture this morning.

Happy New Year to ALL…and don’t forget to…

Speak the Rights.

Danny Johnson

Happy New Year…2015? You gotta be kidding me! And Thanks to Eli…no…not that Eli.

I have fielded a few emails, texts, and phone calls in the past few days wondering where my new post for speaktherights was.  Well…you are reading it.

I know I have not made mention since Christmas Day and I don’t apologize.  I was giving you a break!

My dear wife, Carrie, and I were sitting around the table with my sister, Lynn, last night.  We were talking about New Year’s traditions including watching the ball drop in Times Square at midnight…these days I wake Carrie up as she is sleeping on the couch to make sure she doesn’t miss it…we are not party animals.  I must say we will have a new perspective as we watch this year, having visited Times Square for the first time this past summer.

We also discussed eating my Granny’s party mix.  There will be none of that this year, sadly.  We spent many a New Year’s Eve in Shreveport at my grandparent’s house when I was a kid.  I can still see my Granny walking over to take me by the hand to do some kind of waltz to the sounds of the Guy Lombardo Orchestra coming out of the television that looked like a large piece of furniture.  Though I rolled my eyes and reluctantly acquiesced to Granny’s dance routine, I would give anything to cut a rug with her again.

We talked about watching football…three TVs going in my parent’s family room as we watch three games at once.  There will be none of that this year either.  Carrie and I are coming back home after the J-1 bowl games.

As I type these words I am sitting in a nice vacationing spot in Hilton Head, South Carolina.  This is the first time Carrie and I have ever been to Hilton Head.  We did not know we would be here until Christmas Eve.  No, it was not a proper Christmas present that given to us.  It was, however, a gift.  I will spare you the boring details.  Just know that we did not expect to be here.  Every now and then the unexpected takes a turn for the best and we do enjoy it.  It is a good accident opposed to a dreadful accident.  It was an accident nonetheless.  So we take the time to be thankful for it.  It was needed.  My sister and her daughter, Katie, just left a few minutes ago to drive back home.  They spent the past four nights with us.  We all had a great time.  Lynn was in the need of seeing a beach again.  She was able to be there when her 9th grade daughter looked upon the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.  I was there too.  I too enjoyed seeing the Ocean again with my dear Carrie.

So…here we are.

Three hours away from watching the Ole Miss Rebels take on the TCU Horned Frogs in the Peach Bowl.  Hotty Toddy and Go Rebels!

By the way, I stand at 17 winners and 7 losers in the speaktherights.com 2014 Bowl picks.

I must say I will miss watching three TVs with my folks as each one of us is imparting on what just happened on a different game than what the other ones were watching at the moment.  It is wonderful gridiron chaos.  Fortunately it only goes on during the first games of the day…the Noon/1 PM kicks before it is whittled down to one game, The Rose Bowl.

I will specifically miss my Dad’s lines of football parlance that follow:

“He’s got the corner!”

“First Man!”

“Up the Gut!”

“They are holding on every play!”

“I hate these damn commercials!”

“Mama, get that telephone!”

“I think I’ll have a little more party mix!”

Precious memories.

There was another precious memory made yesterday.

While I don’t make a habit of endorsing much of anything on here…cos that is not what this site is about, I can tell that years will come and go for the four of us sitting around a restaurant table and we will still be talking about how wonderful our dining experience was yesterday.

My sister, her daughter, Kate, my dear wife, Carrie, and I took a day trip over to Charleston yesterday.  We took in the sites of a most majestic and uniquely Southern place.  We also ate at what I think is the best restaurant in the world.

I am a fortunate man.  I have been to many places and have seen many things.  Along the way, I have stopped to eat…too much on occasion…dissatisfied with the product on others.

Yesterday we sat down at a table in an establishment that has NEVER disappointed.  Hyman’s Seafood on Meeting Street in Charleston, SC is the place.  Eli Hyman is one of the owners.  He came to our table again yesterday like he has in seemingly every other visit we have made there.  He wants you to enjoy your food and your experience.  The guy cares.  He need not worry.  The food is unbelievable. Our service was good too.  It was obvious, however, that we were being waited on by a rookie that had to come back to the table to double check a few things about our order…better to do that than get it wrong…I kind of felt bad for her because she seemed a bit frustrated with herself.  She should have felt better about things after we left.  The meal…the experience of eating at Hyman’s… if it came down to one word that word would be: WOW!

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Speaking the New Year’s/Football/Culinary Rights!

Happy New Year to ALL!

Danny Johnson

 

 

Merry Christmas Everyone!

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LAST CHRISTMAS WITH MY GRANNY…

I raise a cup of coffee and toast the day.  I hope and pray all reading this are well and have a blessed day.

Carrie’s folks, Shirley and Michael, joined us for Christmas breakfast.  We ate some things that were really healthy…and a few things that were not.  This is always a very relaxing day for us.

My day has been lovely thus far and my dear wife, Carrie, is, with me in mind I add, preparing some freshly peeled potatoes to be mashed for my consumption later in the day.  Amen.

We are blessed as the house is starting to fill up a little more.  Our youngest son, Cody, just showed up with Hot Rod the dog.  They know how to enliven a place.  We needed the extra push to the pulse they brought through our front door.

Jarrett, our oldest, is out of town.  He is not in Afghanistan or Iraq.  We did that and thank God that is over.  I was delighted to see his name on a prayer list of servicemen and women at a church we visited recently.  Though he is no longer an active duty military person, he still has the stern heart of a great servant…as does his firefighting brother.   We are most proud.

We, his mother and I, are also missing him terribly this Christmas Day.  Alas, I do not blame him.  He is visiting the family of his lovely sweetheart, Hilary.  She is a fine young lady.  She lives in New Mexico.  Christmas dinner for Jarrett will be spent with her folks.  Merry Christmas to them.  Enjoy your gift from Indiana via the rest of the world.

Carrie’s brother, Steven, will be here shortly.  I have a present for him I know he will enjoy.

Last night we ate dinner at my parents’ house.  We had a great time.  My brother, Darrell, and his wife Emily were there.  So was my sister, Lynn, and her husband, Scott, and their two young’uns Katie and Matt.  I was there.  Carrie was there.  Michael and Shirley were there.  Steven was there.  Cody was there.  We laughed and played a game and ate too much and laughed some more.  We also had a few poignant moments.

My Granny, of course, wasn’t there.  She died a little more than a month ago.  While the life of the party was absent…others of us took up the slack and amped up our games, I think.  As I said, we did have a great time.  I wasn’t kidding.  But I am not going to kid myself either.  I miss my Granny.  I’m supposed to aren’t I?  Of course I am.

Well…Steven just rolled in and I need to go tackle him. CRASH>>CRUNCH>>>KAPOWW…just like the old Batman.  I tackled Steven.

Merry Christmas EVERYONE!  God Bless Us EVERYONE!

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

 

 

 

Hope all are Healthy and Happy

The holiday season is a joyful time.  It is supposed to be.  If you are like me and have not been lost on the fact that the reason we celebrate this time of year is because it is the holy holiday that signifies the birth of Baby Jesus, I am glad.  Amen indeed.  Santa Claus is not the reason to celebrate Christmas, by the way.  The birth of the Christ-child is why there is a Christmas.  In case you haven’t thought about it…look at the spelling…and then congratulate yourself.

Am I joking?  No.  Life is full of “duh” moments we lose track and significance of.

Why do folks get melancholy as they get contemplative and entertain thoughts about how they should be treating other people better…or realizing they need to tell someone how important they are to them…or…of all things…that they love that person.  DUH!

If you are in need of a “duh” moment, I hope it is not lost on you.  I hope it finds you.  I hope you recognize it.  I hope you embrace it.  It may not always be easy.  It may not always be fun.  No matter…it won’t make things worse.  “Duh” moments never make things worse.

Enjoy your Christmas.  It may not be what you had planned.  You may be missing someone and that may make yo sad.  “Duh”.  I know.

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God Bless Us Everyone.

Speaking the Rights.

Danny Johnson

Thanks Virg… and a Football Word or Two

I got a gift today.
I received a phone call from an old friend when I seemingly needed it the most.  Knowing I had not been feeling too hot of late, my old buddy Virg Ragland gave me a shout on my cellular phone…I was driving home at the time.  Him catching me at that time was perfect…a wonderful surprise.
If I had a dime for every time Virg and I threw a football back and forth together whilst we were in our mid to late teens, we’d be wondering which foreign car I should have waxed up next.  Virg loves his football.
While I give meaningful nods to my friend, and Alabama Football fan, Tim Petty…I must acknowledge Virg as the first Alabama crazy crony I ever had.  He still loves his Tide.   While I was growing up, Virg, whom had/has kin folk near Selma, Alabama, was the only friend I had that had a reference point to the south like I did.  We could talk about geographical points in the south and understand and share with each other about it.  That felt very good.
Thanks for giving me a shout today, Virg.  You are a good friend and a great American.
By the way, Virg lives not far from Shreveport.  He was there when my Granny was laid to rest in at Forest Park Cemetery.  I know my Dad was both surprised and delighted to see him.  Virg was on of my Dad’s high school football players…and a classmate and teammate of mine.  #88 in your program…but #1 in your hearts.
What Follows are words that appeared in another publication in January 2010.  I know this fall I posted the sentiment that I had put a few football things behind me.  I have.  Still…I enjoyed writing this piece.  It worked well at the time.
A Cougar’s Finest Hour, Indeed
Each year I take a gander at the final college football polls of the season. The Associated Press Top 25, comprised of media types, and the USA Today Top 25, comprised of coaching types, are the two polls we college football aficionados pay the most attention to.

Each January, when the final poll is issued after we are all bowled over, I get a bit wistful knowing it is the last college football poll of consequence until the next fall rolls around and we are five or six weeks into the season, thus finally getting a sense of what our favorite teams are really all about. I watch more college football than any man should who is not being paid to do so, but I can’t help it. I love the game.

The final college football polls of 2009-10 were even more special this year. This year, it was personal.

For the first time in school history, the Central Michigan Chippewas made the final polls of the season. They clocked in at No. 23 in the AP poll, just above Clemson and just below Southern Cal. The coaches’ poll ranked the Chips No. 24, sandwiched between Texas Tech above and Oklahoma State below. The Chippewas, torch bearers of the Mid-American Conference, hanging right there with schools from the Big 12, the ACC and the PAC 10. Whoda thunk it?

All this talk about the Chippewas of Central Michigan stems from the fact that a former North Harrison Cougar, Bryan Schroeder — No. 2 in your program, but No. 1 in our hearts — was a major contributor in making the Chips the MAC champions, the GMAC Bowl champions and earning a place among perennial powers in the final national college football polls.

During the season, Schroeder, a running back in a pass-happy offense, racked up multiple 100-yard rushing games, eight touchdowns and led the team with 73 yards rushing in the GMAC Bowl, a thrilling overtime victory over the Troy Trojans.

I’m not surprised.

Having had a finger on the pulse of Southern Indiana high school football for many years, be it as the son of a coach, a player, a coach, a very interested observer or a play-by-play radio broadcaster of North Harrison games five of the last six years, I confidently state that Bryan Schroeder is the best player the Mid-Southern Conference has ever seen. The performance of this Central Michigan team — and his major contribution to it — gives any observer of the MSC a weak argument against his place in high school lore.

What makes this even better is that every time I talked to Schroeder when he was playing at North Harrison, I always found him very affable and quite polite. He is a good guy. And we need as many of those as we can get.

I know as well, if not better, than anyone, that North Harrison High School football has not been a whole lot to write home about over its history, but this certainly helps. I can say that guy on TV ran up and down the same field I did in high school. I can say I hollered his name out loud and proud as he rolled up 356 yards on 12 carries in a game against West Washington. And every time one of Schroeder’s Central Michigan games shows up on ESPN’s Gameplan, I can point at the TV and remind my lovely wife, Carrie, what a great investment it was! Now, that, my friends, is progress.

And thank you, Bryan, for making this old, worn-out Cougar very proud.

Speaking the rights…at the time of this article anyway.

Danny Johnson