This motley crew of effects pedals on top of my rotary-engine-shaped dinette table is, fortunately or unfortunately, just a fraction of the stuff I’ve moved or stored or re-homed (is that even a word outside of Tech Services?) in the past week. If all goes well, by the end of November I’ll have everything in its right place, as Thom Yorke would say, and I’ll have most of the problems with the house at least temporarily addressed. I’ve sent over twenty truckloads’ worth of furniture, personal belongings, and trash to Goodwill and the recyclers. I’ve made several hundred bucks on Craigslist and spent ten times that on everything from two cheapo bookshelves to ten steel storage units.
Needless to say, I’ve met some odd people along the way, including the fellow who wanted to make sure that the Paradigm Monitor 7s I was selling for $200/pair had a fresh re-cone job and the people who were willing to pay for a futon that they were then going to turn around and throw away the following day. (Long story.) But the most surreal experience I’ve had yet was when the gypsy safe-movers arrived.
Until now, I’ve never lived with anyone who owned a safe. Even when I was married to a Jewish woman. (rimshot! Thank you, I’ll be here all week! Try the veal!) Well, now I do — and the safe in question weighed nearly eight hundred pounds. How do you get a safe from a storage unit to a basement, in a hurry? None of the moving companies in the area wanted to touch it, but there was a glimmer of hope from one of them: “Call ‘Bob’. He’ll do it this weekend, and he’ll do it right — for cash in hand.” Alright then, we’ll call Jeff, and we’ll ignore that feeling in the pit of our stomachs that says the power to install a safe in a secretive weekend manner is also the power to remove it in a secretive weekend manner.
Bob arrived twenty minutes after the storage unit containing the safe was dropped in the driveway. He was a frankly monstrous man — maybe an inch taller than me but with arms and wrists the size of my legs and ankles. His brother and their assistant could have hidden behind him. I don’t consider myself physically weak and even post-surgery I’ve lifted and carried 140-pound items around the house and down stairs and up stairs and whatnot. A few years ago I picked up a Lotus Esprit engine and moved it with very little assistance. Still, I couldn’t help but be a little chagrined when I saw Bob reach down and pick up the front end of an eight-hundred-pound safe, from the ground. You wouldn’t be able to find a vein or a zig-zag line of cut muscle on Bob with a microscope but he had the raw strength of a gorilla.
In under ten minutes, he had the safe down the stairs and stood up in the basement. There wasn’t a scratch on it or anything else in the house. This was in stark contrast to when two Bolivians and I took a 425-pound server rack down the basement stairs in 2001 and basically chewed the walls and the doorframes off a brand new house. As they were cleaning up and picking up the boards they’d laid down over the tile, Bob’s brother looked into the music room.
“Is that a drum kit?” Why, yes, it is. “I haven’t played in years.” Give it a shot, then. He sat down and within seconds it was clear that he hadn’t lost much of a step during his time away from the drums. I’d kill to have a guy like this available for gigs, particularly since my last steady drummer jumped bail on a domestic violence charge last December. After I bailed him out.
I plugged a guitar in — and this blog being what it is, we have to note that it was the beeswing sipo back DGT Wood Library — as Bob’s brother played the opening drum line from “Walk This Way”. I didn’t know how to play the song but it isn’t like figuring out a Bach fugue on the fly and a minute or two later we were jamming through it pretty well. Bob and the assistant, a young Mexican fellow with a permanently installed smile, stood at the end of the room and laughed. I had to laugh, too. Twenty minutes ago I didn’t know any of these dudes and now we’ve got a safe in the basement and a tolerable imitation of pre-rehab Aerosmith going on. We quickly agreed to meet again for more of the same. Music, that is, not safe-moving.
We wrapped it up and the crew went to the truck, but Bob stayed behind. “Man, I don’t know if you have time for this sometime, but if you and my brother get together to play again, I got some lyrics I want to share with you. I’ve been going through some things, man, things that have been hard for me to let go. Maybe there’s a way to put music to them. Maybe there’s a way to put that music out there, you know?” To my surprise and minor alarm, his eyes were not entirely dry. I found myself promising to put music to Bob’s lyrics — about life on the road, loneliness, despair.
We shook hands and my relatively petite writer’s fingers disappeared in Bob’s paw. Then we stood for a moment and I was conscious of the ridiculousness of the thing — two men, both above six-one and two hundred and forty pounds, sharing a bit of a moment, reminiscing over our regrets and our dreams for the future. Then I walked him out and as the truck chugged away I called for my son and held him as high in the air as I could, thinking about what a blessing it is to be alive, aware, and not entirely alone.
So… does the drummer like Iron Maiden?
He said his personal idol was John Bonham. At that point it seemed like pushing my luck to ask about Nicko McBrain!
Damn what a great story!
Next time bust into some zep 🙂
Just beautiful, Jack. Bob sounds like quite the interesting guy- a gentle giant.
Get rid of all unused, dust-collecting shit.
90% of the stuff people have in their abodes can be donated, sold, thrown away, and they’ll never miss any of it, ever.
This reduces clutter, reduces stress, emphasizes utility and quality over quantity, and is proven to increase psychological well-being.
And yes, I do read the label on Dr. Bronner’s soap.
All One! All One or None!
When I worked at Eden’s Natural Foods warehouse lo these many years ago, we called him Dr. Bonehead. The best part of that job was lunch. They had a staff vegetarian chef who prepared really tasty meals every day.
I am a huge fan of proper Indian food, and yet, not being remotely close to Indian (and not having an Indian wife to cook for me), have extreme difficulty finding really good Indian restaurants even in Indian-fertile suburbia in Michigan (I do not care for the place “everyone” seems to recommend - Priya - on Maple).
There was a place (Star of India - not Ferndale) on Rochester Road in Troy near Wattles that used to have an awesome lunch buffet (it was in a nondescript strip mall) that closed like 6 years ago.
I do not know if Star of India in Ferndale is good b/c I am very rarely even that much further south (for odd reasons).
I think the Farmington Hills & the Novi area have more and better Indian restaurants.
just a fraction of the stuff I’ve moved or stored or re-homed (is that even a word outside of Tech Services?)
So, did you “forklift” all that stuff?
Sadly, I’d have to say YES.
Attending kettering university required moving every 3 months. Some girls would show up freshman year with a u-haul to move into the dorms. It was funny.
Eventually I got everything I needed to live to fit underneath the window line and behind the backseat of a Suburban. Including large floor speakers, only the essentials of course. Being short, sleeping in the suburban was comfortable on road trips too.
What’s my point? I love suburbans. And packing light.
What about college chicks, though?
I initally thought that was where you were going with the story.
At Kettering? Surely you jest
Touché.*
*Though I have seen real, live hottie female engineers, nerds, science-y types.
Worth noting, in 2007 or so I found myself at a national meeting of the American Chemical Society, and the abundance of good-looking women in attendance was so obvious that it was plainly acknowledged in the promotional video looping on the digital signage throughout the convention center. It was actually stated as a reason to attend the meeting in the first place.
Great story Jack ~
Life is where you find it .
-Nate
Contemplating a move next year. I look at all the stuff I’ve got to sell, and um, rehome. Guitars, amps, archery and fishing tackle, not to mention a safe full of firearms. And a Porsche. Which I hardly ever have time to drive.
So I have a new prayer: God, protect me from the things I want.
Or, to be more Zen: God, protect me from my wanting.
Cuz I don’t need any more stuff. After awhile, stuff owns you. Minimalism. Rediscovered it as I refinished the kitchen this past week. For my wife and I: two plates, two sets of silverware, two bowls, two glasses. “Live like we are camping,” I said when she protested. After a day, it was easy. Twenty-five cupboards of kitchen stuff packed away in boxes in the garage, and for over a week, I only had to open the box full of spices. And find a jar of marina sauce.
How’d I get here? And why? 30 years ago, everything I owned fit in the back of a Subaru wagon. Ampeg and Rickenbacker included.
Look forward to a video session with you and your new drummer friend soon.
Minimalism is in. All the cool people are doing it/discovering it.
Rich, middle class, poor.
But in terms of quality over quantity it really does wonders for anyone.
Saw your rotochorus there at the bottom. Don’t know if you ever do the vibe thing ala Hendrix/Trower/Floyd…. But I have owned (almost) every single uni-vibe-esque pedal ever made. From the original box mounted unit, to $900 circuit by circuit painful recreations, to $50 led light driven knock off. At one point I had eleven (11!) different vibes or clones lying around. I’ve finally settled on an original, a KR mega vibe, and for gig duties one of the new MXR univibes. As crazy as it sounds, the MXR actually has a really musical, decently faithful vibe “vibe” to it. No affiliation, just thought I’d share unsolicited nonsense about my newest unnecessary addition.
Okay, you’re going to laugh, but I just bought one of the Mini DejáVibe 3 pedals from Fulltone. Problem is that the vendor shipped me the DejaVibe 2 so I sent it back. But I’ve been really thinking about a UniVibe clone a lot lately.
Which one have you liked the most?
If I could only have one… It would for sure be the KR (small version). All the musicality of the original, and doesn’t get too peaky at the high end like most clones. It’s considerably more reliable than the original, but still a bit cranky depending on the day of the week. High enough fidelity to use in recording work without hesitation, yet giggable if you’re decently kind on your gear. It’s really a powerhouse.
If you don’t feel like waiting two+ years for a vibe, or taking chances on an eBay purchase, the MXR is really my next favorite. I sold both my Lovepedal, and Fulltone after getting it. I think the Fulltone only sounds good on Plexis and Hiwatts. I don’t like the tinny-er sweep frequency when played with any blackface derived circuit.
Nice thing about the mxr is its readily available from guitar center, so you can always just bring it right back if you don’t like it. Definitely not the case with most decent vibe pedals.
Thank you — I’ll probably snag the MXR, I was able to order another DejaVibe3 and I’m looking forward to that too!