THE FOOLS OF APRIL

Sweets may have had something about her seasonal break up theory. With the lady bugs, horsefly swarms and no-see-ums, brought on by the warming days of early spring, come the emails and phone calls from people i don't hear from all winter. These are the folks that don't have the time or inclination to read this blog, so I don't get cut off mid sentence, half way through a anecdote, with "I read that on your blog." That's one of the draw backs of blabbing every day in this format. I don't have much to talk about. The first one to call was my old boss Mr. Asser. After the obligatory "How's the wife and kids?" he got down to the real reason for the call. "Christmo. It's been a tough couple of months for me friend- wise. They're dropping like flies." Having gone through a similar fall, I could relate. But then he laid out how they were dying.
Mr. Asser is from PA, so he went down to Pittsburgh to attend a Super Bowl party with a good buddy. His host was the life of the party, a man with a wife and two kids, a good job, house and by all accounts every reason to live. When the Steelers won everyone went nuts with joy. The next day, as this man's wife went to the store to buy a few last minute items for a trip they we departing on in a couple of hours, he pulled down his granfather's antique pistol from the shelf, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. No note. No reason. Just like that. What would he have done if the Steelers lost?
Another friend of Mr. A's had a heart attack and a third pulled over on a bridge to help a woman change her tire. An 18 wheeler full of office furniture clipped him as he bent over to loosen the lug nuts. "I gotta tell you." My old boss continued, "If my dog dies you move to the top of the list." Maybe that's a list I'd rather not be on.
The next one to contact me was Bimmy, my old bass player from Purple Geezus. He lives in Haiwai. He also used to work for Mr. Asser. I told him about the death list and our old friend desert rat Horrible Uncle Pee-Pee (Jerry Williams). Bimmy loves to talk and so do I. As we were both overlapping each other's conversation, the line clicked and went dead. He called back. "We're tapped. The wife is doing a lot of protest work involving Army recruitment. We're starting to peek above the radar." I think the FBI just got bored hearing us talk over each other's sentences and pulled the plug. I told him about my Nashville experience and we both had a good laugh. "Well." Bimmy said "If you don't make it when you're young and pretty, you have to wait until you're old and venerable. No one wants middle age ugly. It's that or pull grandpa's gun off the shelf." It's funny 'cause it's true.This stuff always comes in threes. Trout season opened yesterday. It's only a matter of days before Art Gormley shows up with the stocking truck. You remember Art? NOW THAT'S A FOOL!