“Sunday Morning, Nine A.M.”

“I saw fire in the sky. I felt my heart pound in my chest.
I heard an eagle cry” – Sammy Hagar

If ever there were an 80’s Biblical hair ballad, a song that resonates not only in the hearts of Sammy Hagar followers, but also (maybe even moreso) for followers of Jesus, then it’s this spiritual solo journey from The Red Rocker circa 1987 called “Eagles Fly.”

This was a song from Sammy’s contractually obligated solo album released in June of 1987 as part of his agreement with Geffen Records after he decided to join Van Halen as their lead singer in 1985 following David Lee Roth’s unceremonious departure. I was 16 and bought the self titled “Sammy Hagar” cassette shortly after it was released that summer, and before it was renamed “I Never Said Goodbye” as part of a MTV album naming contest where the winner (a woman named Kim Musgrave) and a friend won a trip to the 5150 studio to hang out with Van Halen for a day. The album found steady play in the rotation in my 1984 Camaro, and this song was played frequently, always resonating much deeper within me than most of the rest of the songs from the album though “Give to Live” (another song with spiritual undertones) was probably my favorite.

The simple life of a bird on the wing
Oh, Lord, I could sing

I took this photo through my scope at 9:49 a.m. on a Saturday in March of 2024. Lake Fayetteville was eerily calm and quiet that morning when I saw this beauty hanging out up in the trees, It was then I understood the quiet. The apex predator was in the house.

I often dreamed that I could sail through the sky
I’ve always wished I could fly

There are twenty-something verses in the Bible that mention eagles typically representing God’s strength, renewal, and protection, so when I hear secular songs with spiritually leaning lyrics, I’m always drawn to the artist’s particular views and beliefs, and what precipitated the writing and meaning of the song lyrics. What usually happens is a deep dive down a rabbit hole assisted by Google searches and AI super-bots. I find out things like there was indeed a real life hike that Sammy was on that became the origin of this song. His description of having the most spiritual feeling he had ever encountered some 4,800 feet up alone near the Idyllwild mountain village in the desert above Palm Springs when he spotted a solitary eagle soaring overhead. Sammy describes the song as emotional and spiritual, and about new beginnings, being born and about freedom, almost like the song is a warm bowl of minestrone soup.

I love Sammy and his easy-going, fun spirit. I always have. I have long admired his solo work and also greatly respect his time spent in Van Halen, but when he discusses this particular song, he speaks like a man who knows he has this beautiful thing but seems like he’s not exactly sure what it is, what it means, or where it comes from. It’s the meanderings of a lost man unsure of his faith and what his spirituality should look like.

Older interviews indicate that Sammy has studied Jesus as well as Buddhism and Krishna among other spiritual traditions, and claims to believe in God, and indicates a deep respect for Jesus as a great man and teacher. I find those that consider Jesus “a great teacher” or “a great man of history” the hardest people to understand. Jesus proclaimed numerous times to different authors that he is the son of God and the only way to the Father (John 14:6). Jesus is either who he said he is, or he’s a raving lunatic akin to a mentally ill homeless man yelling from a soapbox on a street corner that he is Jesus! I don’t know how to reconcile the two different Jesus’ with some sort of common ground solution of how he was a great man and teacher, but not the son of God though he proclaimed it time and time again. He was either who said he is or he was a complete madman. I think it’s really that simple. I find it easier to accept and dismiss the argument of an atheist who thinks the whole story is fictional nonsense moreso than that of someone who wants to claim Jesus was real and a great man who walked the Earth teaching good and doing honorable things, yet bypassing his definitive claim as the son of God as something he never really said or something that got “misinterpreted” over the years.

So take me away
Come on fly me away
Lift me up so high
Where eagles fly

In a recent interview Sammy said he hopes that people remember that he made them feel good, that he gave them hope. He wants to touch them in a way that’s everlasting. Those are all worthy and kind ambitions.

I find it interesting and somewhat ironic that Sammy is wearing multiple crosses around his neck while singing this song in the video below. He definitely isn’t the first nor will he be the last rockstar to deny Christianity yet wear the symbol of God’s love, sacrifice, forgiveness, redemption and promise of eternal life.

Sammy has said on multiple occasions that this is one of his favorite songs and he has verified in other interviews that his mother loved the song so much she apparently requested he sing it at her funeral. On the album, the late, great Eddie Van Halen played bass on this song, but the video here is from a break in the action at a Van Halen tour early 90’s performed acoustically by Sammy, and it is really quite lovely.

I never found anything that said whether or not Sammy performed this song at his mother’s funeral, but I hope that at his own funeral, the song will be played in celebration of a life well lived, a race well run, and a peace knowing that he eventually discovered the true meaning of the crosses around his neck, and where this song came from, who inspired it, and why he saw “fire in the sky,” felt his “heart pound in his chest” and “heard an eagle cry” all those years ago.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” – Isaiah 40:31

Thanks for stopping by.

sincerely,

the80’s

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“Midnight, One More Night Without Sleepin'”

“Watchin’, till the morning comes creepin’
Green door, what’s that secret you’re keepin’?” – Shakin’ Stevens

The Backyard Series

For the next several weeks, I’ll be delivering posts from “The Backyard Series 2026,” which is exactly like it sounds – a series of posts with images and stories centered around the happenings in and around our backyard. These posts are dedicated to my wife who has spent the past 20+ years of her life dedicated to the beautification of our little slice of the American Dream.

Post 4

“The Green Gate”

(Quite honestly, this should have been the first post of the series, because what better way to begin “The Backyard Series of 2026” than with a post about the new gate doors that actually leads into our backyard? Alas, it will be post number four instead.)

My wife and I both find a commonality in the use of the word “janky.” I don’t know if it’s a term reserved for those of us born and raised in the south – a kind of kinfolk word to the likes of “ya’ll,” or “fixin,'” or “ain’t.” Whatever the case, we use it when something is not done properly or perhaps was finished “half-assed.”

We had a new fence constructed last summer. The crew we hired tore down our old failing fence that was held up in places by extension cords wrapped around loose fence posts and tied to nearby trees. It was a pretty janky solution in itself. The crew, mainly a landscaping crew, but with some technical knowhow, installed a brand new fence, but the installation of the gate doors on either side of our house were janky at best. See how useful “janky” is?

So fast forward a year and our main one-year-old gate door was sagging, dragging, and just plain sucked. The door was too heavy and was pulling the weak hinges out of the post and it didn’t latch properly as a result. So, my wife and I took off the boards and the hinges and the handle. Then, with the help of our daughter and her boyfriend, “The Great Green Gate Project of 2026” commenced! Over the next several days, lumber was purchased, cut and painted. Hinges and latches were assembled. Sweat was poured as temperatures soared into the high 90’s and low triple digits, and after several days, the above picture is the final result.

My wife’s initial vision was a little bit different than what we completed, but if the right opportunity comes along in the future, she would like to have windows on both sides of the latch to create a window into our backyard – maybe even something with rod iron set within the wooden frame. As it currently stands though, I like the finished product and the mystery it presents. What lurks behind thy green doors?

My wife has long held a fascination and appreciation for doors. For me, when I think of doors, my mind wanders to Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger, John Densmore, and the early-to-mid 90’s “Doors’ phase” I went through where I read books about the band and carefully studied the ecentric lyrics of the band that had a magnificent rise to fame and stardom until Morrison’s untimely death in Paris in 1971 at the age of 27.

When I think of doors, I think of The Doors

Anyway, when my wife and I visited Italy in 2019 to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, we took photos of doors. The most famous doors we took of a photo of were artist Lorenzo Ghiberti’s Porta del Paradiso (or “Gates of Paradise”). These doors have decorated the Baptistery of San Giovanni in Florence since 1452. Located in the Piazza del Duomo, the main square surrounding the cathedral, the doors were constructed from bronze with gold overlay, and feature 10 sculpted panels that reference scenes from the Old Testament.

The doors below in particular were a few of our favorites from our time in Venice. As you can see, the water level has deteriorated these door that you used to be able to access from ground level many years ago. On average over the last 30 years, the water level in Venice has risen nearly 5mm per year, so it remains a constant challenge for the citizens of this lovely slice of Italy.

A couple of other doors my wife liked – both located during our visit to Riomaggiore, Italy.

I also didn’t realize how many of the photos were of green doors until I started pulling them up on my phone recently. These are also other doors in Riomaggiore and one from Florence on the far right…

More green doors! A door from the scenic St. Peter’s Church in Porto Venere on the left, and on the right, the green doors to a local restaurant with a fabulous view in Riomaggiore called Fuori Rotta.

One interesting fact about green doors that I discovered recently was that during the prohibition era from 1920 to 1933 when alcohol manufacturing, sales, and transportation was illegal in the United States, a restaurant or tavern would paint their doors green to indicate the presence of a “speakeasy” or a “speak softly shop,” where unlicensed alcohol sales were made.

Is it possible all of these green doors subconsciously rooted and remained within the recesses of my wife’s brain over the last seven years just waiting for the right time to be unleashed upon our unsuspecting, janky, fence gate?

I would say yes. It is very possible.

“AII I want to do is join the happy crowd behind the green door
Wish they’d let me in so I could find out what’s behind the green door.”

For full transparency, I don’t remember this song from 1981, nor do I recall hearing or learning about one “Shakin’ Stevens.” His real name is Michael Barratt, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover he was one of the biggest selling artists from the UK during the 80’s. You’ll get an Elvis vibe if you watch the video below, and Stevens comes about it naturally having landed a gig as Elvis in a London West End musical in the late 70’s.

“Green Door” was a number one hit for Jim Lowe in 1956 and then it became Stevens second UK number 1, topping the charts for four weeks in August of 1981. Here is “Green Door”…

May your next door be a green one and if you find yourself at our green gate door in the future, we’ll let you in, and you too may be treated to a refreshing drink while enjoying the beauty of our little backyard!

Thanks for reading.

sincerely,

the80s

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“I Had No Illusions”

That I’d ever find a glimpse of summer’s heat waves in your eyes.” – Alphaville

The Backyard Series

For the next several weeks, I’ll be delivering posts from “The Backyard Series,” which is exactly like it sounds – a series of posts with images and stories centered around the happenings in and around our backyard. These posts are dedicated to my wife who has spent the past 20+ years of her life dedicated to the beautification of our little slice of the American Dream.

Post 3:

Crepe Myrtle’n

My wife loves British crime drama. I’m not exactly when or how it began, but I can’t even begin to recall all of the different series’ that we’ve watched over the years with settings in the UK and Scotland and Ireland. I’m also not sure what the appeal has become over U.S. crime dramas. Maybe it’s the accents or the scenery or the unfamiliar words, but we’ve watched many a series and more murders that need solving than I care to remember.

When it comes to plant murder though, I look no further than to one specific shrub that we have several of planted around our yard. The crime is called “Crepe Murder.” It’s a plant crime. You won’t go to jail, but you’ll be looked down upon and perhaps even ostracized within the horticulture community. Trust me. It’s a real thing.

The process of “crepe murder” involves a pruning event where an unskilled landscape laborer or a lazy/unknowing homeowner proceeds to “trim” a crepe myrtle by using a hedge trimmer straight across the top of the tree like you’re a barber from the 1960’s giving young Billy Joe a flattop with an electric razor. The crepe myrtle has essentially been murdered when this catastrophe happens. It’s also somewhat similar to a three-year-old trimming their own bangs with scissors. The tree, nor the child, will die. It’s just a bad look.

We have five crepe myrtles at various spots around our house and some years are better than others for blooming. This year has been exceptional as evidenced by the small sample picture from the top of this post. Many years ago, my wife taught me how to properly prune these trees during the winter months when they are dormant, and I’ve tried to continue pruning them properly through the years.

They grow well here in the south because they are tough. I like to think that I’m tough because I grew up in the south, but fact is that the crepe myrtle is much tougher. It needs very little water and we’ve had very little water these past few weeks. Yards are brown. Flowers and plants are shriveling to nothing. But not the crepes! They are pretty drought resistant and they grow and bloom beautifully during long, hot, humid summers in the south whereas I tend to wilt in the southeastern heat and must periodically cool off and hydrate inside our air-conditioned house.

Crepe Myrtles (or Crape Myrtles, your choice) are not native to our shores. They are more widely known for having originated in Asia where they are appreciated for their long blooms, smooth bark, and cultural symbolism emphasizing beauty and resilience. Summer’s heat waves may provide inspiring lyrics for a band and they may also kill your grass or some of your flowers, but it can also produce the beauty of the crepe myrtle!

When you’re big in Japan, tonight
Big in Japan, be tight
Big in Japan, oo the Eastern sea’s so blue
Big in Japan, alright

Only hitting #66 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100, the 1984 debut single of the German band, Alphaville, topped the charts in other countries including Sweden, Switzerland, and their native West Germany. Just like the crepe myrtle though, they longed to be “Big in Japan”…

I hope you’re big in Japan. If you’re not, I at least hope you own or are an admirer of a well taken care of crepe myrtle.

Prune wisely.

sincerely,

the80s

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“She’s Got Eyes of the Bluest Skies”

“As if they thought of rain. I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.” – Guns N’ Roses

shot by Neil Zlozower, 1988.

Amazingly, all five of the guys in the picture above are alive and apparently doing well. I only say amazingly because these guys seemed to me like the group that said to the other heavy metal groups of the time… I’ll see your drugs and alcohol and raise you more drugs and alcohol with a splash of total chaos! Now whether that’s true or not, I don’t have any idea, but in 1988 they just seemed like they were far and away the most popular, most destructive, most “I don’t give a s#$t” rock band on the planet.

I recently made the 3.5 hour car trek with my buddy Chris and saw GNR (and three of the above five) at the awesome outdoor Morton Amphitheater (Morton as in Morton Salt) just outside of Kansas City. The venue is maybe a year old and it was a pleasant 80 degrees when Axl Rose, 64, Slash, 61, and Duff McKagan, 62 took to the stage around 8:45 with the opening chords of “Welcome to the Jungle.” The other two members in the photo above – drummer Steven Adler (far right) is touring with his own band performing a lot of the GNR hits while guitarist Izzy Stradlin (far left) leads a quiet and very private life somewhere along the California coast if you believe the internet. Axel Rose never stood still, Slash nailed his solos, and the 6’3″ McKagan strutted around the stage like he owned the place as the band jammed for three solid hours before wrapping up at 11:45 with a trio of their top hits.

When Appetite for Destruction was released in July of 1987, there was very little attention paid to it. Radio stations were uninterested in playing the songs, but after a lengthy tour promoting the album, requests for airplay increased and MTV agreed to start airing the video for “Welcome to the Jungle.” After that, the album ascended up the charts to #1 in August of 1988 basically a full year after its’ release. It was also during the summer of ’88 that I bought the cassette album, and it was soon thereafter in steady rotation on my cassette Walkman and in my car stereo.

She′s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

Today is my wife’s birthday. She’s got that smile and she’s got eyes of the bluest skies, and this is also her favorite Guns N’ Roses song. Happy birthday to my beautiful wife and my very sweet child o’ mine.

Released in June of 1988, this became the band’s only #1 single. Slash began it with that familia opening riff while Duff and drummer Steven Adler added the bass line and Axl wrote the lyrics based upon his then girlfriend Erin Everly (daughter of Don Everly of the Everly Brothers).

From the Morton Amphitheater in Riverside, Missouri recently, here was my view and the 2026 version of “Sweet Child o’ Mine”…

And the original from 1988…

sincerely,

the80s

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“Headin’ into Twilight Spreadin’ Out Her Wings Tonight”

She got you jumpin’ off the deck
Shovin’ into overdrive – Kenny Loggins

The Backyard Series

For the next several weeks, I’ll be delivering posts from “The Backyard Series,” which is exactly like it sounds – a series of posts with images and stories centered around the happenings in and around our backyard. These posts are dedicated to my wife who has spent the past 20+ years of her life dedicated to the beautification of our little slice of the American Dream.

Post 2:

Ruby

My grandma was named Ruby. She lived to 102 and she spent most of her life going full speed. The Ruby-Throated Hummingbird does much the same thing. Their wing flap speed is somewhere between 50-80 times per second. Weighing about as much as the now extinct penny, these fascinating birds can hover in place, they can fly sideways and backwards and upside down and can reach speeds of nearly 60 mph (and up to 200 wing flaps per second) during their courtship dives with willing partners. They can zip around at about 20-30 mph between flowers in the yard.

I wonder who the first scientists/mathematicians were that took video and were able to slow it down to a level that allowed them to count the wing flaps per second or calculate the speed with which they travel. They must have been amazed by these magnificent beauties wrapped up in the tiniest of packages.

It’s late August and that means the Ruby-Throats are coming through Arkansas on their migration south. They are just one of approximately 360 different species of hummingbirds, and are the type you are most likely to see in Arkansas. Interestingly, hummingbirds are only found in the Americas. They are some of the first birds to migrate back from the north to Central and South America with the males coming through first followed by the females and then the youngsters born during the spring.

Some of these hummers are traveling from Canada to Costa Rica, so they need food. They need fuel to make it to their winter homes and for those times when they fly 500 miles over water before finding land and more fuel.

I love seeing the hummingbirds zip and zoom around the back yard during these months. I’ve had several encounters in my backyard with them over the years. There will be times I’m just sitting in a chair on the back porch and one will hover just a few feet directly in front of me for a few seconds, staring me down, sizing up my threat level? Inquisitive and amazing little birds they are. I am even amazed that they use the hummingbird swing (photo above) I placed on one of the branches of our maple tree near one of our feeders.

Besides the sports car comparison, with football season approaching, they remind me of the elusive undersized running backs who you see on tv eluding larger defenders in not so much a demonstration of ability but almost more as self preservation.

Most of all though, the hummingbirds remind me of fighter jets ascending, descending, attacking, fleeing, and all at speeds most of us can’t even comprehend or understand.

You’ll never say hello to you
Until you get it on the red line overload
You’ll never know what you can do
Until you get it up as high as you can go

I love that you can find practically anything on the internet. “Hummingbirds + Danger Zone”… and voilà! Thank you @therustyone7 wherever you are…

Highway to the danger zone
Gonna take it right into the danger zone
Highway to the danger zone
Ride into, the danger zone

My very first post on this site was in July of 2016, and was just a silly little nod to “Kenny Bloggins.” I thought it clever some 10+ years ago. The post contained no video, and no real message other than it was #1 in what I was sure probably wouldn’t last very long. But, here I am ten years later, ten more years garnering wisdom, ten years of learning and laughter and tears and joy.

Ten years and all things lead back to Kenny Loggins. One of the great movies of all-time. Surely a top five 80’s movie and also one of the great movie theme songs of all-time. Truly a fitting song for today’s post about the wonderful, fabulous Ruby-Throated Hummingbird… “Danger Zone”…

sincerely,

the80’s

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“Look, if You Had One Shot”

To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment. Would you capture it or just let it slip? – Marshall Mathers

The Backyard Series

For the next several weeks, I’ll be delivering posts from “The Backyard Series 2026,” which is exactly like it sounds – a series of posts with images and stories centered around the happenings in and around our backyard. These posts are dedicated to my wife who has spent the past 20+ years of her life dedicated to the beautification of our little slice of the American Dream.

Post 1:

The Luna Pink Swirl.

Early one Monday morning I was greeted by our Hibiscus moscheutos.

Oh sorry, you don’t comprehend Latin? Well, for you lay people who didn’t crush a C- in 9th grade Latin (shoutout to my Norman West Mid-High classmates of 1985!), the Hibiscus moscheutos I’m referring to is the Luna Pink Swirl bloom in the photo above from our backyard hibiscus plant.

Like many of the perennial Hibiscus variety, each bloom lasts just 24 hours. A whole year of dying and hibernating and sprouting and springing forth from the ground all for each bud to bloom for one day. One. Measly. Glorious. Day. Fortunately, the plant itself when planted where it gets plenty of sun, grows two to three feet wide and close to that in height, and can produce anywhere from dozens to hundreds of 6-8 inch blooms throughout the warm summer here in the southeast between July and September. The plant also helps attract butterflies and hummingbirds (foreshadowing!) to our backyard ecosystem.

But my thought returns to the one bloom per bud per year (and also to the one time I wore a toga to school for much needed extra credit in 9th grade Latin). This all reminds me of the intro from my favorite Eminem song. It’s not an 80’s song, but the opening lines of “Lose Yourself” reverberate in my head… if you had one shot… would you capture it? It’s a spoken word intro preceded by a gentle piano melody before it all breaks loose and Eminem starts painting the vivid picture of that one chance. This hype tune will make the adrenaline of even the most mild, mellow CPA begin to burst forth and bloom. Each bud gets one shot. One opportunity to bloom, one chance to live in its’ most beautiful moment.

This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order

Perhaps the Eminem of ancient times, David, the young shepherd boy turned king who was as skilled a poet and musician as there was, understood the meaning of the moment as well. He once wrote “As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone.” Even David spoke of the brevity of life and of the flowers.

Perhaps David was thinking about the Luna Pink Swirl while speaking his words over a repetitive ancient drum beat or maybe while just strumming the harp for King Saul. Maybe he hyped himself up to go chase down a lion targeting his flock, or perhaps in helping to lift his inner spirit as he gathered some smooth stones from the creek and prepared his sling for battle. Smooth stones for that one shot. The right time. The right place. The right God. David took it.

So yes, once a year, I would say the Luna Pink Swirl is going for broke.

So here I go it’s my shot, feet (buds) fail me not
This may be the only opportunity that I got!

You can do anything you set your mind to, man including penning an Academy Award and Grammy winning rap song that spent 12 weeks at #1 in 2002 and topped the charts in 19 other countries.

Bet you never look at the Luna Pink Swirl the same way again. Go “Lose Yourself” in the moment today. Soak and marvel in God’s beauty. Go get it. David did. B-Rabbit did. You can too.

Thanks for stopping by.

sincerely,

the80s

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“Living in America”

“Eye to eye. Station to station.” – James Brown

In 1976, I spent part of my fifth summer alive on this earth in the panhandle of Texas at a place our family called “The Grove.” The Grove was appropriately named because it was a grove of shade trees my grandparents family owned out in the middle of a section of flat land where the horizon never ends. Cattle territory in the panhandle of Texas, specifically the small community of Darrouzett located in Lipscomb County. We held many family reunions under the shade of those Dogwoods and Oaks including the summer of 1976. Smells of grilled burgers and steaks and hot dogs floated through the dry, warm, Texas air in those days. There were footballs thrown and horseshoes tossed around like stories from the old timers. Lots of jeans and cowboy hats were the fashion and a lot of us kids that year got our own celebratory bicentennial red, white, and blue t-shirts to wear for our country’s 200-year anniversary.

I didn’t really understand the significance, the importance, or really even care. I was only five, remember?!? Nor did I understand the historical significance or importance of the day of the people I was surrounded by at the reunion. Grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins were there, some of whom I would never see again. The picture below shows 40 something people in attendance when the photograph was taken, but for a five-year-old, it felt like there were a hundred people there, a new face with a new story around every picnic table and grill. Like most family reunions, it was filled with the same stories and the same laughter at the same punchlines. Stories handed down from one generation to the next to preserve and pass on to the next.

1976 Duke family reunion at “The Grove.” Yours truly front row wearing my special bicentennial t-shirt.

Fast forward 50 years, and America 250 has passed us by like a sparkler in the night. I didn’t spend it at “The Grove” this year. No, there was no family reunion to attend this year. There have been many reunions since the photo was taken, but life happens and many of the people frozen in time in the photo above have passed on leaving us the memories to cling to. No, this year I did something different, but something as American as American gets.

Moving.

I didn’t move. My wife and I still occupy the same house we’ve owned since 2004. Instead, my wife’s youngest sister and her husband bought a slice of the American dream – a nice house and some picturesque acreage out in the Oklahoma countryside – about 400 miles directly south of the center of the lower 48 states (Lebanon, Kansas), and several miles from the nearest Oklahoma town.

You can see the scenic Arbuckle Mountains rising some 1,400 feet on the horizon about 30 miles due south from their new front porch. And about a football field to the east, you can just imagine hearing the rushing water of the creek running down their property line when the rainy season of Oklahoma comes calling in April/May and then again in September/October. They have chickens, a little less than they originally inherited due to a recent visit most likely from a hungry coyote. There will be sheep coming, not the wooly kind, which is the only kind I was familiar with. A type of “hair sheep” instead that grow short coats of hair that fall out in the spring. There will be vegetables to garden, flowers and trees to plant, grass to mow, hay to bale, chairs to rock, and plenty of sunsets to watch.

Just slide behind the wheel. How does it feel? When there’s no destination that’s too far?
And somewhere on the way you might find out who you are, woo!

Moving: My nephew and I. Two handsome men and a truck.

I’ll say it again. There is nothing more American than moving. We’re a nation of movers. Our ancestors moved across oceans and boundaries. We move from cities and towns. We move jobs. We move schools and churches and houses. We move. And not just ourselves. We move our parents, our children, our neighbors, our friends, and our family. And we help people move, not because it’s anyone’s favorite activity, but because the only thing worse than moving is moving alone. So we join in and we pack and unpack boxes and move furniture. We lift and we bend, muscles ache and backs become sore. We make messes and we clean messes. We laugh and we sweat and we swear and we sweat some more, and then we do it all again the next day. But most of all, we create memories with our family and shake our heads at the collective craziness of it all.

I can’t tell you where I’ve spent half of my 4th of July’s, but I’ll always have the bicentennial in the Texas panhandle, and I’ll always have 250 in middle America joining forces with my wife, another sister-in-law, her daughter, and my nephew and his girlfriend all helping to move my sister-in-law and her husband. Moving them from a house in a crowded city subdivision they’ve occupied nearly 17 years with cars lined down streets and your neighbor’s house just feet away out into the wide-open space of the Oklahoma countryside.

And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You may not be lookin’ for the promised land
But you might find it anyway

One man that could move in all kinds of ways was the one and only “Godfather of Soul,” James Joseph Brown, born in Barnwell, South Carolina in 1933. By the time one of the most patriotic sports’ movies of all-time was released in 1985, James Brown was 52, old and washed up by music standards, and he hadn’t had a top 40 U.S. Billboard hit since 11 years earlier in 1974.

“Living in America” would be Brown’s last big hit even though he would score several hits on the R&B charts through the end of the 80’s. Written by Dan Hartman (“I Can Dream About You”), and Charlie Midnight, the song would score Brown a Grammy award in 1987 for best R&B male vocal. Here is the video with footage from the movie “Rocky IV,” James Brown and “Living in America”…

Thanks for stopping by and a happy 250th to you and to the greatest nation in the world.

In the immortal words of James Brown – I feel good!

sincerely,

the80s

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“And if I Haver”

“Hey I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.” – The Proclaimers

haver (verb) (SCOTTISH ENGLISH): talk foolishly; babble: “My posts occasionally haver on this website.”

My buddy Joe recently texted me a short video clip of Scotland soccer fans enjoying their stay in Boston as part of the 2026 World Cup featuring 48 different nations participating in matches across the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. I’ve since seen many other clips of the fans from many countries enjoying U.S. restaurants, gas stations, area parks and shops and even a group of Scottish fans occupying a large portion of a section in the venerable Fenway Park for a Boston Red Sox baseball game. They were dancing and singing, wearing kilts, chanting and waving flags and scarves and signs everywhere they went.

In several clips the Scottish fans were singing along to the fun and addictive Proclaimers song “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”

Da lat da (Da lat da), da lat da (Da lat da)
Da-da-da dun-diddle un-diddle un-diddle uh da-da

In the summer of 1993, I found myself in the backseat of my buddy Bryndon’s car with another one of my best friends, Joe, riding in the front seat. We were on a short one-hour road trip to Stillwater, Oklahoma, Bryndon’s hometown, the Oklahoma State University campus, and also home to the world-famous bar and restaurant, Eskimo Joe’s.

Eskimo Joe’s opened in July1975 by grade school friends Steve File and Stan Clark. Their legendary t-shirts featuring Eskimo Joe and his dog Buffy were immediately popular and sold well from day one. At one point, Eskimo Joe’s t-shirts trailed only Hardrock Cafe for the most popular t-shirts in the world.

Also, along the way, their annual weekend birthday bash grew enormously larger and larger every year to overflowing crowds that spilled outside the establishment onto Elm Avenue. By the time their 16th anniversary rolled around in 1991, there was an estimated 65,000 in attendance that weekend (the photo below is from their website of that particular weekend). Their upcoming 51st anniversary celebration is just a few weeks away as of this post.

By sheer happenstance, I was just a small tyke living in Stillwater in 1975 when “Stillwater’s Jumpin’ Little Juke Joint!” opened their doors. My dad was the basketball coach at Stillwater High School, and my mom was a real estate agent from 1973-1978 when we resided in Stillwater. And in addition to their t-shirts, the Eskimo Joe’s cups are often viewed as collector’s items, and also served as “fine China” for my wife and I for many years after we were married.

Eskimo Joe’s has expanded and changed through the years as seen from this recent photo featured on their website.

If I get drunk, well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you

It was the annual birthday bash, aka “Joe’s Weekend” of 1993 that had the three of us together in Bryndon’s car headed north on highway 177. I don’t recall the conversations or the plans we were making, but I know we were three friends on our way to a weekend full of possibility. There were friends to reconnect with, strangers to meet, and memories to be made.

Many of those memories have faded into hazy recollections and reside only within the physical photos I still possess from the camera I carried with me that weekend. But I’m also left with the memory which began during that drive when today’s featured song popped up on the radio. What ensued was a full out sing-along with our newly favorite Scottish twins providing the musical backdrop as Joe and I traded off “Da lat da da’s” at full volume as we rolled down the highway.

It’s during these unplanned, unexpected moments when music and time converge perfectly to a form a lasting image, a memory forever tucked away into the recesses of the human brain resting there until that particular song comes on and rescues us again to a favorite time and place.

It may have been several decades ago, but it doesn’t feel that way when I hear the unmistakable voices of twins Craig and Charlie Reid. Their faces, forever frozen for me in 1993, as their most famous song eases any worries, lifts my spirit and dances for three and a half minutes within the core of my soul.

And after all, if you don’t have friends who will sing at the top of their lungs along with you on a road trip, then do you really have any friends at all?

But I would walk five hundred miles
And I would walk five hundred more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

Born in Edinburgh, Scotland, Craig and Charlie Reid formed their group The Proclaimers in 1983. First released in 1988 as the lead single from their “Sunshine on Leith” album, the song reached #11 in the UK while topping charts in Australia, Iceland, and New Zealand.

Though released in ’88, the song didn’t reach American ears and prominence until it was featured on the soundtrack to the 1993 romantic comedy movie “Benny & Joon” starring Johnny Depp and Mary Stuart Masterson. Afterwards, the song soared to #3 on the U.S. charts in August while also inspiring impromptu singalongs everywhere.

At the intersection of Scotland and Stillwater circa 1993, here are The Proclaimers with “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”…

I hope you have friends you’d walk 500 miles for even if you could afford a plane ticket instead (creds to Joe for the inspiration behind this line).

Thanks for stopping by friend.

sincerely,

the80s

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“Goin’ to Kansas City”

“Gonna get my baby one time, yeah, yeah” – Little Richard

Stacey King was a constant in my life in the late 80’s. He occupied two-hour chunks of my teenage years between 1985 and 1989. I probably saw him play somewhere between 50-60 games in person, and countless others on television during that time period. Two hundred hours? Three hundred? I’m not sure, but I don’t know that I saw any one player play more games in person than that of one Stacey King.

Thanks to my dad, who was an assistant coach at the University of Oklahoma at that time, I was there for Stacey’s four year run with the Sooners. I was there the first two seasons at OU where he struggled to gain playing time, at times looking overmatched on the floor as well as in the classroom when he was deemed academically ineligible the second semester of his sophomore season.

Stacey cleaned up things in the classroom and then he proceeded to mop up opponents on the basketball floor. I was there with front row seats for those magical final two seasons when Stacey King went from “not sure this kid’s going to make it” into a bonafide superstar All-American center for Coach Billy Tubbs and the Sooners. Along the way, the energetic, joyful King established himself as one of the most beloved Sooners of all-time. So when I heard that Stacey King passed away today at the age of 59, it had my brain spinning back to those days in Norman, Oklahoma. Spinning like many of the opponents who grew weary of the frenetic pace of Stacey King and the OU Sooners basketball program – a program that was the winningest men’s basketball program in the country the last half of the 80’s.

Stacey King and the Sooners were a must-see event those years. Sure, Los Angeles had the “Showtime Lakers,” but in college basketball, showtime was located in Norman, Oklahoma.

The OU Sooners 1988-89 basketball team
My parents framed poster of the OU Sooners 1988-89 basketball team featuring #33, Stacey King in the back left.

“It’s like a one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”

The left-handed 6’11” King hailed from Lawton, Oklahoma. My dad along with head coach Billy Tubbs and coaches Mike Anderson and Mike Mims helped recruit Stacey, which included picking the big guy up at his high school in a limo for the hour and fifteen-minute ride to Norman for a recruiting visit. King’s mother wanted Stacey to play elsewhere (Georgetown and John Thompson were rumored to be on the top of her list), and so when she found out Stacey had been picked up and taken to Norman that day, she proceeded to tell anyone who would listen that Stacey had been “kidnapped.” Well, after his precarious visit, King was returned safely back to Lawton High School. To hear Coach Anderson tell the tale, he was the lone coach “chosen” to return with Stacey to Lawton following his visit to Norman and the OU campus. Anderson didn’t take King to his house, instead opting to drop him back off at school with strict instructions to immediately check back in and call his mom and tell her he was back in town and that he was fine.

The incident faded into a memorable story and King became a Sooner where played in 114 games finishing with a 17.6 points per game scoring average as well as averaging 7.2 rebounds per game. His amazing final two seasons saw him average 22 and 26 points per game respectively while being recognized as an All-American and the Sporting News College Basketball Player of the Year in 1989.

He would go on to be drafted by the Chicago Bulls and spend eight seasons in the NBA with the Bulls, T-Wolves, Heat, Celtics, and Mavericks before retiring. He won three NBA championships with some guy named Michael Jordan (check out this great piece about King’s good luck routine and how it came to an end quickly once he was drafted and arrived in Chicago to be teammates with Michael Jordan). Eventually King would endear himself to a whole new generation of Bulls fans as a commentator for the Bulls from 2006-2026. “Gimme the hot sauce!”

But Stacey “Sky” King will forever be etched in my 16 year old brain in 1988… sprinting down the floor on another OU fastbreak, the Sooners barreling towards another 100 point game, King’s long strides outpacing his opponent giving the Sooners’ attack fastbreak numbers, his 33 jersey untucked and flapping behind him, hands at the ready… ready to receive a pass from Mookie Blaylock or Ricky Grace or Dave Sieger or Terrence Mullins, and then receiving that pass and hammering home another signature left landed dunk.

Fellow Oklahoman and All-American, (and left-hander) Wayman Tisdale may have laid the foundation which helped put OU basketball on the map in the early to mid-80s, but it was Stacey King and his band of high-flying Sooners who took the OU basketball program to new heights in the late 80’s. After all, what other collegiate basketball player had a self-proclaimed #1 music video in 1988?

Only Stacey King and his OU teammates!

I absolutely loved this video when it came out in 1988. Featuring Stacey and his teammates – Soul Man, Creator, T-Love, Amazing, Mookie, Stretch, The General, Art, and Hawk, here they are performing to the Little Richard version of the song “Kansas City,” in celebration of and shortly before King and his teammates headed to Kansas City for the 1988 Final Four.

Bye bye, and so long to the Heavenly-bound Stacey “Sky” King. Prayers up and out in covering the King family as well as to the extended family of OU Sooners everywhere.

You were one of the all-time greats, and you will be missed.

sincerely,

the80s

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“Downtown the Young Ones are Going”

“Downtown the young ones are growing.” – Kim Wilde

I can’t tell you where I heard it or who said it, but I once heard that your 50’s is a decade of reflection – a time in life where you think about where you’ve been, how it went so fast, who has played a part in your journey and also where you’re headed next. Kim Wilde is 65 now, so maybe she’s past that phase, but regardless, her 1981 self will forever be etched within the fabric of 80’s pop music and as such deserves as much as anyone to be featured today. After all, in 1981, like Kim, I too was a kid in America singing along to today’s catchy tune.

Fast forward from 1981 and though just a youngster in my 40’s when I began this site, this blog began as a tribute with posts based upon a reflection, a memory, a time that meant something then, and might mean more or less now. I’ve veered into other decades of music and into anything that might trigger a spark of an idea for a post as the years have rolled by and I find myself in the middle of the decade of reflection. I’ll post a dedication to a person, cover a present day event, interview interesting people, tell stories I find interesting or funny, and even write posts that act in a cathartic way to release words that seem locked away in the recesses of my brain too difficult to release with my mouth and instead find their way through the only escape route available – through my fingertips.

Outside a new day is dawning
Outside suburbia’s sprawling everywhere
I don’t want to go, baby

A new day is always dawning, and it is truly hard to keep pace sometimes if you are one to attempt such a foolish idea. So instead of trying to keep up, slow down, absorb in what is important. Hang around those who feed your soul and lift you up. Have fun. Pray for your friends and family. Heed the words of Walt Whitman (or Ted Lasso if you prefer) – Be curious, not judgmental. Immerse yourself in the present with a view on the road ahead on what’s important, but occasionally check the rearview mirror and allow yourself to look fondly upon times in your past.

Because if you’re like me, you too remember that you were once a kid in America living for the music-go-round.

Before we get to today’s featured song and video though, I’ll leave you with some 80’s content. I’ve noticed a phenomenon that has dominated my social media feed. The nostalgia phenomenon. Facebook and Insta know me well by now. I’ve given up all hopes thinking I will use browsers that don’t track my history or VPNs that hide my whereabouts. That the killer robots will come for me last! No, now I don’t care if my cell phone tracks my every move or if Alexa is listening and taking note of my every word and action. I shrug, focus upwards and inwards, and just benignly accept whatever fate becomes of my internet footprint.

A.I. has made things more prevalent and has sped things up to a blurring pace. Case in point: just a few of the random AI generated images that have appeared to me over the past three or four days…

“We’re the kids in America (whoa)
We’re the kids in America (whoa)
Everybody live for the music-go-round”

Ironically, born and raised in a west suburb of London, today’s hit from 1981 was Kim Wilde’s debut single shortly after turning 20. Written by her dad and brother and reaching #2 in the UK, this song was just one of 17 UK Top 40 singles during the 80’s making Kim Wilde the most successful female solo act of the 80’s in the UK.

Covered by many artists through the years including Tiffany, Len, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, and Foo Fighters (on their 2015 EP “Songs From the Laundry Room,”) here is the original – Kim Wilde, still performing this song to this day, with the video filmed in L.A. for “Kids in America”…

If you’re wondering, here she is along with her brother Ricky (bald guy on guitar with the shades and gray whiskers) from 2024 with a live rendition before a massive crowd at a music festival in the UK…

We’re still the kids! Whoa!

sincerely,

the80s

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