My Family – Lorelei – 1996 to Present – 21st Birthday

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

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Normally Friday belong to Tales of Rock, but this is a special day for a special person in my life, so Tales of Rock will be back next Friday.

I remember the day Lorelei was born like it was yesterday.

Her mother and I were sitting on the sofa and she was complaining of some pain. Possibly contractions. For hours I denied the fact that today, November 17, 1996 would be the day Lorelei would finally come to Earth.

We drove to the hospital and we admitted Lor’s mom. They ran some tests and gave her an epidural. I remember it was by a cool Indian anesthesiologist. He gave her the shot in her spine to numb the pain. He said she would feel a warming sensation in her lower torso. I remember him saying, “You’re going to feel hot buns.” His humor broke the tension and fear. These professionals deal with this stuff on a daily basis and it eased my mind that we were in the hands of consummate professionals.

We found out the umbilical cord was somehow wrapped around Lorelei’s neck so she would have to be born via cesarean section. I remember calming her mother as the doctor made the insicion and  quickly pulled our little baby girl from my then wife’s womb.

As the surgeon went to work sewing her back up, I assured Lor’s mother that our child had ten fingers and ten toes. I followed the doctor over to a little table where they carried Lorelei and started to run the Apgar tests. The Apgar score, the very first test given to a newborn, occurs in the delivery or birthing room right after the baby’s birth. The test was designed to quickly evaluate a newborn’s physical condition and to see if there’s an immediate need for extra medical or emergency care.

Although the Apgar score was developed in 1952 by an anesthesiologist named Virginia Apgar, you also might hear it referred to as an acronym for: Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, and Respiration. (Never knew this until today!)

The Apgar test is usually given to a baby twice: once at 1 minute after birth, and again at 5 minutes after birth. Sometimes, if there are concerns about the baby’s condition or the score at 5 minutes is low, the test may be scored for a third time at 10 minutes after birth.

Five factors are used to evaluate the baby’s condition and each factor is scored on a scale of 0 to 2, with 2 being the best score:
1.Appearance (skin color)
2.Pulse (heart rate)
3.Grimace response (reflexes)
4.Activity (muscle tone)
5.Respiration (breathing rate and effort)

Doctors, midwives, or nurses combine these five factors for the Apgar score, which will be between 10 and 0 — 10 is the highest score possible, but it’s rarely obtained. But in my mind Lorelei got a 10 because she was MY daughter and we strive for excellence in everything we do. (Lol!)

I know I’ve spent a little too much time on this segment, but I always like to learn new things. I also like my for my readers to learn things from phicklephilly as well. (Even if it’s something I’ve done and now you know not to ever do it!)

I’m looking at my daughter Lorelei for the first time. She’s on her back, looking all red and crying. They’re Apgar testing her and cleaning her off.

She’s beautiful. She already has little blonde ringlets of hair on her sweet little head. (Later as a toddler, she would earn the nickname; Sweet Wheat. I’d say to her, “Why do I call you Sweet Wheat?” And she’d reply, “Cause I’m sweet and my hair’s the color of wheat!”)

I’m reluctant to touch her, but the doctor tells me it’s okay because she says she came from a toxic place. (It’s Lorelei’s day so I’m going to refrain from any negative comments about her mother) I gently touch her and her skin is so soft and new. (Brand new human!)

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Those are the first words I ever spoke to my little Lorelei.

She was always good baby and was an absolute pleasure to raise. Here she is now 21 years young!

I remember when I turned 21. It was 1983 and I was living in Los Angeles. My girlfriend Clio and I had tickets to see David Bowie on his Serious Moonlight tour in Anaheim. I remember us driving in my 1969 VW minibus to the show. The van for some reason quit while we were driving there. It just died. The vehicle had never done that before but here we were being gently pushed off the highway by a truck full of kind Mexicans.

I remember Clio being really disappointed. We waited awhile. Back in those days there were obviously no cell phones, and if your car broke down you were pretty much stranded. After awhile I attempted to re-start the van and the engine finally turned over.

We missed the show but who knows, maybe we weren’t supposed to go. I don’t know. To make it up to her, I took Clio to a nice Italian restaurant and I tasted veal for the very first time.

So my 21st was sort of a failure. But I loved Clio and she was a good sport about everything. I had arrived in Los Angeles in 1982 and those were crazy times with me and my band. I’ll be publishing a series entitled; California Dreamin’ in late 2018. Those will be some of the craziest stories ever told in this blog.

Anyway enough about me. Lorelei has lived with me since she turned 18 and she’s been a pleasure to have around. She comes and goes as she pleases. It’s a chill household and we like it that way. She cooks and cleans and takes care of her space. Being vegan she’s always making some interesting concoction in the kitchen.

She works as a food runner at a local restaurant in Rittenhouse. She seems to like it and they like her.

Recently she recorded herself singing and sent the tracks along to a guy that manages musical acts. Originally he thought maybe she could be a singer in a band, but after hearing her four octave voice, he thought maybe she could work as a solo act.

She’s recently created her own line of specialty soaps on Etsy.com. They are zodiac themed and each one has a corresponding crystal inside the soap. What’s cooler than good energy and karma while you’re in the shower?

Tonight she and her friends are going to the Electric Factory. It’s a music venue here in Philly. It’s open to all ages and she’s seen shows there before. But to control the crowds all the alcohol is on the second floor balcony.

They’re going to see Martin Bresso, known by his stage name Tchami. He’s a French producer and DJ from Paris. He’s regarded as a pioneer of the future house subgenre.

Lor is looking forward to finally being able show her ID, get the wristband or stamp that says she’s 21 and head upstairs. For the first time in her life she’ll be able to order a beer unencumbered. Funny how when you turn 18 you can vote, join the military, be in porn, even buy a gun.

But you can’t buy a beer. That’s fucked up.

Anyway, if you’re reading this Lorelei, just know that I love you and that you are the brightest light in my life. You give me hope and I can appreciate life more knowing you are in this world with me.  Please know that you have made me a better person, and you’re the best thing that has ever come into my life.

I love you.

Enjoy this special day!

Let’s go out and grab a drink together sometime soon. I’ll show you all the cool spots.

Cheers!

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Brooke – 2013 to Present – Legs for Days

Brooke was on point with the drinks. She even stuck around and hung out with us.

When I worked for the online start-up, back in 2013, there was a kid that worked in the office who was always playing crazy music. It was mostly all shit. I can’t believe I’m about to say this but it was also played too loud every day. (Yea, I’m getting old)

There were only two artists he ever played that I could stomach. One of them was a band called Tame Impala. I liked them because their singer sounded a bit like John Lennon. They were in town to open for the flaming lips at Festival Pier. So me and the kid decide we want to go. Somehow I got the hookup, probably through Keila when she worked at Live Nation. We were in the VIP section, which is nice because you can see the stage, it’s fenced in, you’re away from the animals, and you have your own clean bathrooms, and your own bar.

We grabbed a bite of over priced food before the show. Actually, the opening act was playing. It was Sean Ono Lennon. How sad is that? Your father is 1/2 of the two greatest composers of modern music in the 20th century. Let that sink in for a moment.

John Lennon is your father. Your half-brother Julian looks and sounds like dad, but your mom is Yoko Ono. No. Sorry. You’re just a filthy rich kid. Your dad was in the Beatles, and your shitty band is opening for the band that is opening for the Flaming Lips at Festival Pier in Philly. Sorry kid. Give up.

So we’re back at VIP and I need some wine. There is a very tall lean brunette that is serving me. She cracks a bottle for me. She fills my cup with ice and then pours the wine in on top of it. This is how I like my chardonnay. So I won’t have to keep coming back to the bar, she says she’ll just keep coming out to me in the section and keep my cup filled. I liked her already  because she was tall, beautiful and charming. Now I’m falling in love.

Tame Impala were good. I dig some of their music. It was a good show. Brooke was on point with the drinks. She even stuck around and hung out with us. I remember telling her about my girlfriend and just raving about how much I loved her. I was telling her about all of the romantic moments I created to celebrate how much I loved her. Brooke loved this and I feel like I made a memorable impression upon her.

I’ve run into her since then at different gatherings. I remember a bunch of us were all sitting around at Rouge. (Not a fan. Rittenhouse douche/snob watering hole) It was me, Keila, Alice, Brooke, a couple other girls and I think one or two guys  I didn’t know. At one point Brooke gets everyone’s attention and says: “(My name) speaks about women the way wish any of the men we know spoke about us when we weren’t around.”

That’s one of the nicest compliments I have ever had the honor of receiving. I’ll be taking her to Keila’s farewell party from the IT recruitment firm this week, So I’ll write more then.

Note: Brooke’s story continues in tomorrow’s post: (Church – Birthday Boy)

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 8am EST.

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Tales of Rock – Led Zeppelin And Yes Almost Became A Supergroup Out Of Survivor’s Guilt

Will Zep and Yes form a Frankensteinian Supergroup?

I love music. I love all music. I love rock and metal especially. I have always loved the power and fury of that music as a musician and as a fan. I love talking about bands, music and trivia, and my stories with everyone I know. So I’ve decided to add a little Friday edition of a pet project I’ve been working on. I haven’t discussed it with anyone. I just want to do it. So it you show up on a Friday, you’ll get a short little twisted tale about the music industry.  I was in it a long time ago, and I welcome your likes, hates, comments and follows. I’d like to try this and keep it going with as many stories as I can remember. I will also pepper this series with people I have met in the industry. Right now I’m too busy building phicklephilly to do my personal rock and roll tales, but I assure you they will come. And they will come hard! But in the interim, please enjoy these stories as I provide them. I’ll do my very best to come up with a new tale each week!

I want to kick off your weekend with an obscure nugget that no one really knows about!

Most rock bands have a higher member turnover rate than your local McDonald’s. Sometimes they hire new members and soldier on, but other times they break up, either out of respect or because they can’t find enough warm bodies to shove into the back of a van. When both Yes and Led Zeppelin suffered this problem at about the same time, band members from both sides decided to do something radical: take the remaining members of both bands and form a new Frankensteinian supergroup.

Though a seminal band in the ’70s, Yes had fallen apart by the ’80s, mainly due to the departures of frontman Jon Anderson and keyboardist Rick Wakeman. One day, Yes bassist Chris Squire bumped into the legendary Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page at a Christmas party. Squire quickly found himself consoling a grieving Page over the death of his drummer John Bonham. Both of them missed the glory days, so he suggested that the remaining members of the two bands ought to come together and write an album. Page not only agreed, but went one step further and proposed that the collaboration would spawn a whole new band, called XYZ — which is short for Ex-Yes/Zeppelin, and a terrible name.

The band did actually get as far as writing and jamming out to a few songs, and even got a few demos under their belt, but as so frequently happens with young musicians, reality got in the way of their dream. First, Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant backed out of the collaboration because he thought the music was too “complicated.” Then, the managers of the respective groups started bickering over who should become head honcho of the new band. With that, the whole project simply petered out. Eventually, Squire did reunite with some of his former Yes bandmates (not Wakeman or Anderson, though) in a new band called Cinema, but nobody cared.

 

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Church – 2013 to Present -Seizure Salad

I’m sitting in my go to bar with Church. It’s our spot and it’s what we do. He’s sipping a Sailor Jerry and Coke, and I’m having my usual Chardonnay with a side of ice. He orders a salad and I go with the sliders. There is a couple a few seats down from me to my right. I know the guy, his name is Brian, but I don’t know the lady he’s with so I wave but don’t approach. He could be working.

On the left of Church, is a brunette in her thirties and an older gentleman. Looks like a lawyer. We don’t really pay any attention. We’re chatting and doing our thing.

Daphne rolls behind the bar and says hello. She tells me it’s a slow night. Not much happening. She goes back to her hostess stand and it’s just another night in paradise.

Suddenly, the woman who was sitting to Church’s left, goes off the bar stool and hits the floor. Normally, I’d call that Thursday night.  We see so many banged up people around the city losing their shit. But this woman was having a seizure. People within visual range are shocked and the bar goes quiet.

I point to the phone on the wall, because the bartender on duty didn’t see one of her patrons suddenly vanish from the bar. “Liz, call 911.”

She starts dialing. Church, with his cat-like reflexes, springs into action and goes from sitting next to me sipping a drink to all the way around the other side of her on the floor holding her head to keep her steady. I get down there and untangle her leg from the lower rail of his bar stool. I have the legs. Church is focuses on the poor woman’s head. She’s thrashing about, and Church is barking commands to those around him. He’s literally single-handedly coordinating the effort to help save this poor woman, and keeping her from injuring herself further.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but Church was formerly a Corpsmen in the United States Navy.

A Corpsman works in a wide variety of capacities and locations, including shore establishments such as naval hospitals and clinics, aboard ships, and as the primary medical caregivers for sailors while underway. Hospital corpsmen are frequently the only medical caregiver available in many fleet or Marine units on extended deployment. In addition, hospital corpsmen perform duties as assistants in the prevention and treatment of disease and injury and assist health care professionals in providing medical care to sailors and their families.

They may function as clinical or specialty technicians, medical administrative personnel and health care providers at medical treatment facilities. They also serve as battlefield corpsmen with the Marine Corps, rendering emergency medical treatment to include initial treatment in a combat environment. Qualified hospital corpsmen may be assigned the responsibility of independent duty aboard ships and submarines; Fleet Marine Service, SEAL and Seabee units, and at isolated duty stations where no medical officer is available.

Yea, pretty bad ass. That’s the guy you want next to you when somebody takes a header at your favorite bar.

She’s making what almost sounds like barking sounds, and staring wildly about. He’s got a good hold on her. He’s talking to her. But mostly he’s trying to keep her from bashing her face into the wooden wall of the bar. The bartender comes around, and some others have gathered. I grab a cloth napkin and ask if we need to put it in her mouth. I always heard that epileptics could bite or swallow their own tongues. Church says, no. He knows what he’s doing and has the situation well under control.

She seems to be calming down. I look over at the guy who was with her. He’s just standing there staring, and looking uncomfortable. The paramedics come and stabilize her. I feel so bad for her. It’s the holidays, and she’s out for a drinks and this horror befalls her. They get her onto the gurney and roll her out. The police are there and also ask some questions. Church is on point, he gives law enforcement the full report.

They also speak to the guy she came in with. He says he doesn’t know her very well. He met her over at DelFrisco’s steakhouse, and then brought her over here for a drink. That’s a big lawyer hang out. Not my scene. This guy didn’t do anything to help or comfort her when she had the seizure, and he didn’t go to the hospital with her. I don’t care if you just picked up the chick in a bar. Lady falls down, you go to the damn hospital with her. I’m thinking that weasel was married and didn’t want any problems. How would he explain to his wife that he was at the hospital with some other woman? I may be wrong, but I got the vibe something was definitely shady about that guy.

We go back to our seats at the bar and have another drink. Church is pissed because somebody was telling him to turn her head when she was foaming at the mouth and that’s not what you’re supposed to do. Me, I was just glad the lady was okay.

Daphne came over to chat and get a recap. I tell her what I know, and tease her.”You had to say it was a slow night and that nothing was happening, and look what you did, Daph…”

“I know, right? Me and my big mouth.”

Indeed…

 

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Emily – Super Baby Sister

Emily is a sweet young girl that works at one of my favorite bars. She is 22 but looks like she’s 15. She does a little bit of everything there. Bar back, hostess and server. She is really a nice little person and I always make a fuss over her. I started calling her “super baby sister” because she’s so cute.

I met with her recently at McGlinchey’s for a drink because I told her about this blog and she says she wanted a chapter. Normally I don’t tell the people about the blog because I am going to be writing about them. But Emily wants the attention. So she’s in.

I get to the bar and order my usual. Whatever the house white wine is with a side of ice. The beauty of this filthy bar is a few things. That glass of wine costs $2.60. You can smoke in this bar. The jukebox is good, and the staff is surly. The bathrooms are so gross. No doors on the stalls, so if you have to go number two you have to go next door to Jose Pistola’s, climb the steps to the third floor to take a dump in a private clean restroom. Mcglinchey’s bathrooms are so covered in graffiti I don’t even know what color the walls were ever painted. I describe going to the restroom at McGlinchey’s as if you are playing the game “Operation.” What’s the one rule in Operation? “Don’t touch the sides.” But I love that bar and have had some great memories there. Especially with my pal Johnny R.

Emily arrives and climbs up on the stool beside me. She is immediately carded. She pulls out her passport. I think this is odd, but maybe she doesn’t drive. It’s a city. Some people just don’t. She looks adorable. I bought her a pack of Marlboro 27’s  and hand her the pack. She’s very grateful because that’s her brand and cigs are expensive now.  I think part of me invited her out because I love young women. I purposely invited her out to Mcglinchey’s because I like the idea of a middle-aged man sitting in a shitty dive bar drinking and smoking with a girl who appears to be a teenager. Think what you like but that’s what I wanted to do. I’m not going to do anything to her, but I’d like to. And I’ll do it again. But nothing will happen. (Don’t worry, loyal readers, I have integrity, I’m Lorelei’s Dad.

Emily is from a small town in Pennsylvania. She is attending college here in Philly, and is in a co-op program there. She currently works at an event planning company part-time. She wants to do that for a living when she graduates. She wants to plan large-scale musical events and concerts.

She told me that she got into a relationship with a guy within a few months of entering college. They were together for a few years, but she said after a while he went schizo. That seems odd how a person would suddenly go schizo but I suppose anything is possible. Mental illness takes many forms. I know a half a dozen women that have heads full of bad wiring.

But they broke up and she was really sad. She says she suffers from anxiety and depression. I tell her I’ve suffered with both of those things my whole life. The artist’s spirit, my father used to say. I console her and tell her ways of working through your fear and sadness without drugs and alcohol. It’s a tough road to hew.

She orders a Jack and Coke and tells me that her co-op job won’t renew in the next semester so she will be working more at the bar where I see her. I tell her I have some good contacts at Live Nation, The Electric Factory, and Steezpromo. She says she’ll send me her resume and maybe I can help her get a gig at one of those places. I got my daughter Lorelei her last two jobs so I can probably help Emily too.

Emily says depression and alcoholism runs in her family. That’s pretty common. But recently she was busted for DUI. She lost her license for 90 days and had to pay a fine. She also had to take some AA related classes. She says she learned her lesson and she will never do it again. I hope she sticks to that. I tell her a few of my drunk driving stories to let her know we’ve all done it but you really should never get behind the wheel after you’ve been drinking. There are so many other options especially now in this city. UBER, Lyft, Septa, and taxis.

She says she likes to drink and hopes it doesn’t become a problem. I tell her it’s easier said than done. Alcohol is a wicked mistress. She says she hasn’t been having much luck with men since the break up with her ex. I ask her what’s she’s been up to lately. She says she hangs out with guys and they are usually drinking and she hooks up with them. She wants sex too, but she says then that’s all they want her for.

“They just treat me like a I’m a piece of meat.”

I think that’s terrible. I tell her she’s going about it all wrong. If a boy really likes you he will court you. He will take you out on proper dates. He will do thoughtful things for you. He will take you to the movies and dinner and enjoy doing things with you. If romance develops, then you will have mutual feelings for each other. At some point if you are both ready, you both agree that you want to celebrate your mutual desire for each other and celebrate that with the exchange of sexual pleasure.

I mean that’s life right? We all want that.

I know that sounds textbook, but it’s a fact. Sure, we’ve all hooked up with people in our lives. I was in three bands. I’ve had tons of tail handed over to me and I’ve relieved a few ladies of the burden of their virginity. But I was always  gentleman.

I tell Emily that she is a lovely, smart young woman who has her whole life ahead of her. Sure she gets horny, but I told her she has great value and deserves to be treasured. She has to resist her urges even if she really likes a guy and hold back.

I tell her my Tao of Steve mantra: “You always want that which retreats from you.”

Be inaccessible. Be a little allusive. It’ll make him want you more. Be unavailable. Don’t get right back to him when he texts you. Seem busy with your life. Don’t make him the center of your universe. You’re busy. You are the Sun. Until he proves his worth, he is merely a planet to you.

I tell her to stick with this advice and she’ll make better decisions. She agrees and tells me she has a date with a guy, that she met through a co-worker at the bar. I tell her that’s a good start and make sure he locks down a date and time and takes you somewhere nice to get to know you better.

Hopefully I helped her and I look forward to hearing more about how her life is going when next I see my Super Baby Sister.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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