“Do You Ever Seem to Have One of Those Days…”

Posted on August 11, 2025 by Double K

“…where everyone’s on your case? From the teacher all the way down to your best girlfriend?” – Motley Crue

As I write this, the first day of school is in effect in my area, and teachers all over are getting on the cases of children everywhere!

The first day of school. You remember don’t you? First day wardrobe decisions to make, car lines to navigate, crossing guards on patrol dressed in their finest brights, and young parents walking their children down the street and dropping them off for the beginnings of another school year.

My wife and I made that first day walk for six years with our daughter Caroline from kindergarten through 5th grade when she finished elementary school. We only lived a block from the elementary school so it was easy. We’d hold hands and walk our excited daughter to the school chatting all the way about being good for the teacher, listening more, talking less, and about being a good classmate. It was just a matter of minutes before we were there and taking her into the school, and ultimately into what would be her homeroom classroom for the next nine months.

The walk back home for my wife and I was a little quieter, and a little more reflective knowing that those times were precious and fleeting. Those walks were mere minutes and they’ve been followed by thousands of days that are now a blur. We have the pictures though, because that’s what you do on the first day of school, right? You’re either posing for the pictures or you’ve become the parent and you’re taking the pictures. It’s a first day right of passage fulfilled on the Facebook pages of proud parents and grandparents around the world at this point in our technology-driven lives.

But in the 80’s, oh those 80’s, you had a camera with actual film in it. You snapped a few pictures and the results were left to the Kodak gods after you drove your film to Walmart or a Kodak photo lab somewhere, filled out the owner information and sealed your film inside the special envelope. Then, you waited weeks to get a phone call from the photo lab saying your photos were in and then you drove to pay for and pick up your photos. It was all so very 1980’s inefficient!

Anyway, first day of school photos have probably been around a lot longer than just the 80’s, but I always thought Gen Xers like myself were likely the first kids to be publicly humiliated outside of our houses every first day of school. I have no actual proof, just a hunch, and photographs from a bygone era. Speaking of…

1st day of school, Norman, OK 1985 with my sister.. She hates these pictures with a passion because of her haircut. So, you’re welcome, sis!

Checking out the halls, making sure the coast is clear
Looking in the stalls, nah, there ain’t nobody here
My buddies, Sixx, Mick, and Tom
To get caught would surely be the death of us all

One guy that wasn’t smokin’ in the boys room in the 80’s is that stud in the picture above. BUT, I was just starting to really get into “heavy metal” music when Motley Crue released their album, “Theatre of Pain” in June of ’85. You can look at the picture above taken in August of 1985 and just tell I was into heavy metal music by my luxurious, dark, long, curly heavy metal hair in the back! Actually, I’m more likely the very definition of rocker meets banker when you combined my wild hair, the “crazy” shorts I’m wearing called “jams,” and the pristine white banker polo. I was a big Polo guy back in the day mostly because my mom thought I looked very nice in them so she stocked my wardrobe with several colors from Ralph Lauren.

My journey into hard rock had probably only begun about a year or two earlier with cassette purchases of Def Leppard’s “Pyromania” and Van Halen’s “Diver Down.” Motley Crue was still a little more “on the dangerous side” because their previous album from 1983 was called “Shout at the Devil” and I’m pretty sure anyone listening to that album around that time was high on drugs and probably going to Hell, except me of course. I never paid money for that particular album though, instead settling for a cassette copy someone made me. It wasn’t one of my favorite albums, but I played it several times and actually preferred “Looks That Kill” on that album. I didn’t listen to it a whole lot also for fear that mom would bust in my room with a “what are you listening to?” bewildered look on her face which in turn would lead to her shipping me off to a private Catholic school somewhere where the nuns would force me to listen to monks singing daily Latin chants as my only source of musical education.

Listening to dangerous music in the 80’s was a very real concern for teenagers, and there was no antagonist quite like the teacher.

Now, teacher, don’t you fill me up with your rule
‘Cause everybody knows that smoking ain’t allowed in school

I remember that we had smoking sections (or maybe just one particular section) at our high school, but I never really hung out with the smokers of the day. I had a few friends that would light up a cig on occasion, but it was never my thing, plus it was tough being an athlete running the basketball court with black lungs because you were chugging Marlboros all the time.

Released in June of 1985, this was Motley Crue’s first top 40 hit as it climbed all the way up to #16 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. A cover of the original performed by Brownsville Station in 1973, here is Vince, Nikki, Mick, Tommy and actor Michael Berryman portraying the principal as the Crue try to get their smoke on in “Smokin’ in the Boys Room”…

Thanks for reading, and go thank a teacher somewhere because you can read.

sincerely,

the80s

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“He Got the Action, He Got the Motion”

Posted on July 21, 2025 by Double K

“Yeah, the boy can play.” – Dire Straits

It’s no secret. I love live sporting events. There’s no better reality entertainment than sports. It’s why millions of us attend, tune into, and/or play them. Sure the lines are sometimes too long, the logistics stink, the weather is unpredictable, the parking, the crowds, the claustrophobia. But oh how sports can make us feel connected. They can make us feel alive. One can run the gamut of emotions – joy, sorrow, laughter, tears, and everything in between… sometimes in a matter of hours or minutes or even seconds.

A little over a week ago at America Family Field in Milwaukee, chalk another one up to the “this is why we love sports” column. It was my second trip to the ballpark for a Brewers’ game. The previous one ending in a loss to the Reds last summer. It seemed this time as if the baseball gods were going to send us home without a Brewers’ win once again after the Washington Nationals rallied for two runs in the 8th and one in the top of the ninth to take a 5-3 lead heading into the bottom of the ninth.

As a lifelong Cubs fan, I have no emotional currency invested in the Brewers, but I also care very little for the Washington Nationals. If at all possible when I visit a stadium, I try to always side with the home team. So, there I sat with my navy-blue Brewers cap on my head, my wife to my right, and my sister and brother-in-law, my 10-year-old nephew, and my 8-year-old niece in seats directly behind us.

Before the rally

Sending in their closer, Kyle Finnegan, to the mound my sister and brother-in-law debated slightly in between frames whether or not they should leave a little early to “beat the traffic.” Repeat after me: Never. Leave. Early. To my nephew’s credit, he was not on board with this plan at all, and he was holding steady. I would not have been surprised if his 10-year-old self would have melted down in front of hundreds just to remain in his seat for three more outs. I turned around and told him “get your rally hat on.” A quizzical look came across his face as he asked “what’s a rally hat?” I informed him of this long-standing ritual and the importance of the rally hat in dire circumstances like this. I told him there is no set way to do it – you can turn your hat inside out, backwards, sideways, sit it on top of your head like a shark – they all can work. So, we both decided upon the backwards Brewers’ cap as the home team came to bat in the bottom of the ninth.

Brewers’ stars Jackson Chourio and Christian Yelich pumped life into the stadium beginning the bottom of the ninth with an infield single and a walk respectively. The buzz level was growing. The lone Nationals’ fan sitting in the row in front of us was beginning to take heat from his family and friends after having spent the top of the 8th and top of the 9th in an over-the-top wild frenzy cheering on the Nationals mostly to annoy said friends and family.

Newly acquired first baseman Andrew Vaughn roped the first pitch he saw, a 97mph four-seam fastball, into the gap for a two-run double. The game was tied 5-5 and the crowd was the loudest it had been all day. The lone exception – yes, the aforementioned Nationals fan in the row in front of us.

Andruw Monasterio pinch ran for Vaughn and Jake Bauers pinch hit for Isaac Collins. Bauers grounded out, but Monasterio aggressively took third base on the throw to first base to get Bauers. The Nationals intentionally walked left-handed hitting Brice Turang to set up what they hoped would be an inning-ending double play and chose to pitch to the hot hitting right-handed hitting Caleb Durbin. Durbin watched a called strike, but then promptly laced the second pitch down the right field line for the game winning hit.

As the announcers like to say when the home team wins in their last at-bat, Durbin “walked it off,” And in unison, we all walked it off that day. We walked up the stadium stairs and through the stadium and out to our vehicles all the while slapping high-fives and fist-bumping random strangers on our way out. The only one not fist-bumping or high-fiving – the Nationals’ fan in the row in front of us who had scurried out of the stadium as quickly as possible much to the delight of his Brewers’ friends and family.

Ahh, the beauty of sports. The beauty of the rally cap. The beauty of a common cause culminating in a walk-off win together.

I’ll quote the late, great Jack Buck and say, “Go crazy, folks. Go crazy!” Here is Caleb Durbin doing the walk, doing the walk-off of life. Oh yeah, the boy can play.

And after all the violence and double talk
There’s just a song in all the trouble and the strife
You do the walk, yeah, you do the walk of life
Hmm, they do the walk of life

Whether 2025 or the release date of this song and video 40 years ago in 1985, there’s always going to be a song in all the trouble and the strife. There was trouble and strife in Milwaukee a few weeks ago, but the Brewers persevered. May you take heed from a simple game with a stick and a ball, may you persevere through your troubles and your strife, and may you do the walk of life.

Today’s classic choice hit #7 on the U.S. charts and #2 in the UK. With apologies to those of you who prefer “Money for Nothing,” this lively and upbeat song remains my favorite Dire Straits song. The video below with all of the vintage 80’s sports highlights (and lowlights) is also a reminder of some of our sports stars of the past. I always loved the video too, because it features one Larry Legend running onto the parquet floor of the 80’s Boston Garden.

Written by the red head-banded one, Straits’ frontman Mark Knopfler, let’s all do the “Walk of Life…”

Thanks for reading and may you have a walk-off win this week in whatever it is you are doing!

sincerely,

the80s

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“You Don’t Need Money. Don’t Take Fame.”

Posted on July 3, 2025 by Double K

“Don’t need no credit card to ride this train.” – Huey Lewis & The News

Was it just me, or did anyone else alive in 1985 think that in 40 years we’d be time-traveling for sure… with or without a flux capacitor? Just me? That’s fine, but hey Elon – less rocket ships and X rants, more time-machine research!

If you were a young teenager like I was on July 3rd 1985 when “Back to the Future” was released, 40 years mine as well have been a million years. I thought I’d never get to 16 and earn my driver’s license much less make it to 2025 where I would be writing this thing called a blog on this thing called the internet.

No, the days were not 24 hours long in 1985. God stopped the clock on many an occasion I was convinced. Much like our basketball team manager(s) would (shoutout Stevie Jones with the quick fingers) occasionally pause the timer on the scoreboard for just fractions of seconds so we could all complete certain conditioning requirements under the allotted time, I felt like God would do this to me as the days of the 80’s sometimes lasted 240 hours instead of the ridiculous 24 hour number we were brain washed into believing. Michael J. Fox was going to look like this forever, and I was never going to actually graduate from high school.

Now, sitting here in 2025 I’m kind of amazed that Marty McFly traveled back in time just 30 years to 1955. Filmed today, he would only go back to 1995, a good decade short from the movie’s original equivalent. Great Scott! Where has the time flown since Ronald Reagan, “the actor?!” and Jerry Lewis were running our country?

Alas, if I could go back to 1985, I’d probably take in a Huey Lewis & The News concert at some point since I’ve never seen them live and unfortunately never will since Huey no longer performs as he continues to battle Meniere’s Disease. The disease is an inner ear disorder that I guess has also led to a loss of his hearing which obviously affects his ability to hear music frequencies and hold vocal pitches.

The recent years and decades have also been difficult for Michael J. Fox as he valiantly battles onward hoping for a breakthrough of any kind against Parkinson’s Disease of which he was diagnosed back in 1991.

Lea Thompson recently was quoted as saying the original Back to the Future “is just the perfect screenplay.” The movie is definitely a top 10 favorite of the 80’s for me, and one which I’ll still watch from time to time whenever it magically appears on my television like a friendly voice from the past.

After changing lanes and removing Eric Stoltz from the Marty McFly role and going with their original choice, Michael J. Fox, it was just fortunate “density” that the movie would go on to become a huge success.

Written, produced, and directed by Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale, the movie grossed over $380 million. This is the original trailer you might have witnessed had you been in a movie theater or possibly watching it on tv somewhere in the spring/early summer of 1985.

“The Power of Love is a curious thing. Make a one man weep. Make another man sing.”

This was the band’s first #1 hit on the Billboard Hot 100, and arguably their most famous song. Filmed at Uncle Charlie’s Nightclub in Corte Madera, Cali, it will keep you up at night. It’s “The Power of Love”…

Happy birthday America, and if you do have a time machine, hit me up, got a few things I need to change from the 80’s. Thank you.

sincerely,

the80’s

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“Sound of the Drums, Beatin’ in My Heart”

Posted on June 23, 2025 by Double K

“The thunder of guns, yeah
Tore me apart” – AC/DC

Yesterday (Sunday morning) just before church service began, our pastor’s wife came up to me and said something along the lines of it’s an important night tonight. For a moment I was caught off guard and a little confused. After a moment, I realized what she was saying and so I simply asked her to pray for thunder, pray specifically for THE Thunder right around 7 pm CST Sunday night.

Well, prayers or no prayers (don’t think God is particularly interested in who wins a NBA title), at approximately 9:49 CST, the Oklahoma City crowd erupted and the Oklahoma City Thunder won their first NBA title as an Oklahoma City franchise.

Thunder sensation Shai Gilgeous-Alexander (only 26 years old) became just the fourth player in NBA history (and first in the last 25 years) to win the NBA scoring title, the NBA regular season MVP, and the NBA Finals MVP award joining these three other decent players – Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Michael Jordan, and Shaquille O’Neal.

It was July of 2019, when the Thunder acquired Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and started stockpiling draft picks that led to the drafting in 2022 of Chet Holmgren (#2 out of Gonzaga) and Jalen Williams “Jay-Dub” (#12 out of Santa Clara). And just like that, a new, very formidable “big three” was born. With subtle and smart picks and acquisitions over the following years (trading Josh Giddey to the Bulls for Alex Caruso, acquiring Isaiah Hartenstein from the Knicks, etc.), the Thunder slowly built themselves into a contender and ultimately into a NBA championship team.

This photo below is from Christmas 2015 give or take a year.

I know it was Christmas because I bought all three of those Oklahoma City Thunder hats as Christmas gifts to myself, my brother-in-law Nick (center), and my dad. Living in Norman for many years after retirement, my mom and dad became big Thunder fans upon the arrival of the Thunder (thank you Seattle) in 2008. Success was almost instantaneous as the Thunder made their way to the NBA finals in 2012 behind their original “big three” of Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, and James Harden. They lost in five games that season to a better big three in Miami – LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, and Chris Bosh. The Thunder traded Harden before the start of the following season, Durant left via free agency in 2016, and Westbrook was the last to go – traded in July of 2020 officially ending that initial era of success.

My dad and I always had Thunder basketball to talk about through the years. How they needed to get Kevin Durant more shots and Russell Westbrook needed to turn the ball over less. How Serge Ibaka couuld be the X-factor. How fun Steven Adams was to watch and was for a soundbite, and how Kendrick Perkins was making way too much money for the Thunder. He would see many of the Thunder players in the Poker Room at the local casino he frequented and report back to me – “Durant was playing the big stakes tables today… Perk was there with his bodyguard so no one would bother him I guess… stood next to Russell Westbrook getting poker chips. He’s not very tall…”

I once typed out a full-page letter and mailed it to my dad which laid out how much money Perkins was making per point and per rebound, compared him to some of the other “true stiffs” around the league, and called my dad “a crazy old fool who just didn’t understand basketball,” and then I signed it “Big Perk.” My dad, the lifelong basketball coach, got a kick out of it, and I think it only fueled his passion for Perk-bashing. We went to a Thunder game one time with my best friend from high school, Barry. The three of us sitting there watching the Thunder that night and Barry (also by then fully aware of my dad’s disdain for Kendrick Perkins), would jump out of his seat and give a standing ovation every time Kendrick Perkins made a shot or did something really well. Granted, it only happened a couple of times the whole game, but it made my dad laugh each time. And to my dad’s defense, Perk finished with somewhere around 4 points and 2 rebounds that game, which just further solidified his whole point of him being grossly overpaid.

The irony of it all is that Kendrick Perkins was on hand last night in Oklahoma City as part of the ESPN crew broadcasting the game. At halftime, Perk let some of his former OKC Thunder allegiance step in when he said “Chet Holmgren and J-Dub, ya’ll gotta step the hell up.“

Better “step the hell up” they did in the second half, and this Thunder team became an instant legend. There’s only one first in the history books and this group of guys will always be “the first” OKC NBA champion team.

This August will mark four years since my dad passed, and I miss him and I miss our conversations about the Thunder. He would love this Thunder team right along with the hundreds of thousands of fans that do at this very moment. So last night as the post-game coverage wrapped up, Big Perk said his final words and I turned off the television, I rubbed the same OKC Thunder ballcap that I had on my head that I’m wearing in the photo above, and with eyes slightly welling up I looked and pointed upwards and simply said…

“Dad, we’ve been Thunderstruck.”

Several hours later, the song still lingers in my head. Released in 1990, it became a top five U.S. Rock Tracks song for AC/DC off of their “Razor’s Edge” album. One of their most famous and beloved songs, “Thunderstruck” became the official song of the OKC Thunder in 2017 edging out “The Thunder Rolls” by Oklahoman Garth Brooks. I love Garth, but the fans made the right decision on this one as the 2024-25 Oklahoma City Thunder etched or shall I say thundered their their way into the history books.

Thanks for reading and ThunderUp!

sincerely,

the80s

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“If I Leave Here Tomorrow”

Posted on May 5, 2025 by Double K

“Would you still remember me?” – Lynyrd Skynyrd

I think most every family has that relative. The one who you’re never quite sure where fact and fiction deviate. The one with a slight aura of mystery who lives in a general location and has a job in a generic industry (insurance, construction, real estate, etc.), but you’re never one hundred percent of the factual basis of any of it. You just shrug your shoulders and kind of blindly accept as reasonable what you’re told from others.

My Uncle Ricky was that person for my family. He passed away in his sleep late last Sunday night in Texas at the home he shared with his longtime partner, Michele. Receiving the message early Monday morning that he had passed was jarring. He was only 66.

He was my mom’s brother and the youngest of the four Duke children (by several years) growing up in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. He was the “surprise” of the family for my grandpa Kay, a rancher, who was in his 50’s and my grandma who was nearly 43 by the time she gave birth to Ricky Reed Duke in June of 1958. Athletic and handsome, Ricky was an all-sports star at Pawhuska High School, With just 12 years separating us in age, my Uncle Rick served more like a cool older brother than an uncle. When I was growing up, I read a few of his newspaper clippings and he became an early sports idol for me reading about his time playing quarterback, running point guard, playing baseball and golf and everything in between for the Huskies.

Rick Duke, Point Guard and Homecoming Queen escort
Rick Duke, QB

A lot of us were never really sure where he lived or exactly what job he was working, never entirely sure of his relationship status or his exact whereabouts at any given time. But he also was not an absent relative, dutifully showing up at any and most family holidays and events. He loved family. He loved getting together with his mom, brothers, sisters, and relatives for family reunions and hearing the same old stories and laughing like they were the first time he’d ever heard them. He was there for Easter and Thanksgiving dinner. He was there on Christmas eve to (as tradition dictated) pitch in his singing voice on “We Three Kings” with the other men in the family, but performed only after some frantic last-minute shopping and/or the wrapping of gifts in a back bedroom somewhere with minutes to spare. He was cool. He was funny. He had an easy laugh and kind eyes, and yes, he was a complete enigma at times, but we could always talk about family and we could always talk about sports. He loved being around my dad the basketball coach and talking and watching hoops. He’d watch football or baseball with you. He had a John Daly-esque backswing on the golf course and still had a smooth jumpshot on the basketball court well into his 30’s. And Ricky loved his OSU Cowboys from his days and time spent in Stillwater frequently meeting up with old pals and fraternity brothers at football games and an annual calf fry every year.

Rick, my dad and I after our golf tournament that saw dad come away as the winner.

It’s funny the things you remember about relatives or friends for seemingly no particular reason, but I remember one time in my teens that Rick asked me what kind of music I was listening to. I responded with the mainstream stars of the day – Van Halen, Journey, Prince, Michael Jackson. After nodding along he asked, “What about Lynyrd Skynyrd? You should listen to some Skynyrd!” I knew of “Sweet Home Alabama,” was kind of familiar with some song about a bird being free, but surely couldn’t spell the name of the band nor tell you one person in the band. Was Leonard Skinnard the lead singer? So upon his recommendation sometime along the early 90’s I bought “Skynyrd’s Innyrds: Greatest Hits” cd. It was then that I learned how to spell Lynyrd Skynyrd, learned that no one in the band was named Lynyrd or Leonard or Skynyrd or anywhere close to the group’s name. I listened to the cd several times and dutifully reported back to Uncle Rick that “they have several pretty good songs,” which I’m sure was obviously a proud moment for him. I still have that cd, and it has obviously gained just a little more meaning for me this week.

Go Pokes

Famously known for never being on time, Ricky Duke was as cool to me as Ronnie Van Zant was to his legions of fans, and anytime I’d hear a Lynyrd Skynyrd song through the years, my mind would often drift to my Uncle Rick and to wondering where he was and what he was doing. He lived most of his adult life in the Dallas metro area, but he did live with my parents at their house in Norman for a period of time before my parents moved closer to me in Arkansas in 2017. I never was really quite sure what precipitated the need to live with them temporarily, and I never asked. I just figured I probably wouldn’t like the answer and like the saying goes, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

The last time I saw Ricky Duke was at my mom’s funeral last July where I tasked him with reading mom’s obituary, and he did. Our last correspondence was last Christmas Eve when I texted him a link to a YouTube video of an old VHS tape I had recently uploaded. It was a short video from our time together as a family at my parents’ house in Norman, Oklahoma on Christmas Eve, 1988. It featured Ricky and his siblings, their spouses, nephews, nieces, and his mom (my grandma Ruby). It was about 3pm and I told him in the text that I was thinking about him and wished him well imagining that he was probably just starting his Christmas shopping. I told him I was going to get him a Blockbuster gift card for Christmas as a thank you for all of the Blockbuster Video gift cards he got me and the rest of my cousins over the years when we were younger, but that I was having trouble finding one. He responded via text that evening laughing at the memory, thanking me for the video link, and that it “made my Christmas!” He hoped we were well, wished us a Merry Christmas, and signed off with a “Love ya.”

I’m thankful those were the final words I have from him. I love ya too, Uncle Ricky.

Uncle Ricky and I sometime in the ’90’s.

For I must be traveling on, now
‘Cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see

It may have been more appropriate for me to tie this post to Skynyrd’s “Simple Man,” another favorite of mine. But to do that would have also unintentionally created (while maybe appropriate) a too simplistic analogy of my Uncle Rick. He was a simple man, simple at heart. He was “a little country and also a lot of class,” as Michele described him. But like all of us, he was also a flawed person who made some poor choices along his path. He was in and out of favor with family members and friends for different periods of time, but one thing I never questioned was that he loved me and that he loved his family. Flaws, mistakes, regrets… that’s what make us human, but ultimately love can conquer all. Love will ease pain and cleanse guilt. It’s the greatest commandment, and I think about love when I hear this song, even moreso now. Even though the lyrics themselves point to a man leaving a woman, maybe a lost love even, the music itself is soaring and reflective and rocking and limitless and beautiful, “Free Bird” is Skynyrd’s nine, sometimes ten, sometimes eleven plus minute lovely masterpiece.

With Gary Rossington making his guitar sing in this video, using it to imitate the sound of birds chirping, Lynyrd Skynyrd was at the height of their fame and one of the most famous bands in the world in 1977 when this was filmed. It would have been just a year or so after Ricky graduated from high school, and I like to think that he could have been there with his friends on that sunny afternoon probably shirtless, in cutoff jean shorts with his long brown hair dancing in rhythm with the rest of the Skynyrd Family to the emanating sound of the time, with no cares, no worries and a whole life of limitless possibilities hanging before him on a blank canvas.

Performed at a packed Oakland Coliseum just three months before the tragic plane crash that claimed the lives of Ronnie Van Zant, guitarist Steve Gaines and his sister and backup singer Cassie Gaines, here is classic Skynyrd with “Free Bird”…

Be free and fly high Uncle Rick. I’ll miss you.

sincerely,

your nephew

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“Josie’s On a Vacation Far Away”

Posted on April 26, 2025 by Double K

“Come around and talk it over” – The Outfield

This post is several months overdue, but now that the boys of summer are back, it seems an appropriate time to make it up.

I love baseball, and so the next few months are really great for me. I don’t really care about the trivial complaints – “too boring,” “too slow,” too whatever. I just politely nod along and smile, but inside, secretly, I’ll be thinking something is wrong with you or whomever raised you. Judgmental? Perhaps, but in the middle innings of my life, I’m too secure in myself to really care much either way. I don’t have the desire to debate the beauty of a sacrifice bunt during a day game at Wrigley, or the euphoric feeling of a late inning home run cutting through the thin air in Denver, because I know the final innings are approaching, and I have more important things to focus on rather than whether or not you care for America’s past time.

But there is something missing this season, or better yet, someone missing this season. With due respect to Joey Votto, I truly only miss one player who retired with very little fanfare at the end of the 2024 season. His name is Charles Cobb Blackmon, aka “Chuck Nazty” for those of you in the know.

Drafted out of Georgia Tech University in the second round of the MLB draft in 2008, a baby-faced Charlie Blackmon broke into the major leagues with little notice in June of 2011 just shy of his 25th birthday. He played left field and batted seventh behind the likes of Todd Helton and Troy Tulowitzski. Blackmon got his first major league hit, a single, in his second game as a pro the next day in his first at bat off of San Diego Padres’ pitcher Dustin Moseley. He bounced between the big club and their AAA squad in Colorado Springs over the next two seasons, but from 2014 on, Charlie Blakmon was a fan favorite and fixture in the outfield and on the base paths for the Colorado Rockies.

Fast forward to 2024, and a now grizzled 38-year-old Chuck Nazty, hair flapping in the wind as he rounded first base, singled up the middle off of Los Angeles Dodgers’ pitcher Landon Knack last September. After that hit on a sunny afternoon in front of the home crowd, Blackmon called it a career. The dash in between 2011 and 2024 represented a career spent entirely with Colorado, which saw Charlie garner over 1800 hits including 227 homers, and a very solid lifetime OPS of .832. The years also included four all-star appearances and a 2017 season where Charlie finished 5th in the MVP voting.

I was not a huge Rockies fan, but I spent two weeks every summer in Boulder for banking school (it’s a real thing, I swear. Shoutout GSBC). While there for those six cumulative weeks between 2017 and 2019, I attended five Colorado Rockies’ games and came to love the ballpark and the chance to watch Charlie Blackmon. His style reminded me of a modern-day version of Pete Rose. Batting from the left side like Charlie Hustle, Colorado’s own Charlie was a grinder as well, working every pitch, every at-bat, and hustling his way around the bases while tracking down fly balls and line drives in the outfield. But unlike the clean shaven, clean cut Rose, an aura of coolness surrounded Blackmon that seemed to allude Rose. And where Rose seemed aloof, the unassuming Blackmon seemed more likely to join you and your pals at the bar for a beer or two.

Charlie Blackmon is not a hall of famer, and I don’t think anyone is arguing he is, but Charlie Blackmon was at a bare minimum very good and at other times, a great player. I appreciated his game. I appreciated his dedication. I appreciated his demeanor. Charlie Blackmon was solid, and there’s nothing wrong with that when you’re a professional athlete.

The final innings are coming at all of us whether we care to see or it not. And while most of us might dream of finishing out our game like a triple-digit throwing closer, or hitting a towering walk-off 400 foot blast into the upper deck, I have absolutely no problems being that guy who blisters a grounder up the middle between short and second base and hustles his way down to first base before taking my curtain call. And there’s a way to define that moment. Solid.

“I just want to use your love… tonight!”

Ahh, the outfield or The Outfield. The iconic walk-up song for outfielder Charlie Blackmon was just another reason that I loved watching Charlie play at his home ballpark. The Outfield was a band from London (who knew very little about American baseball) that formed in 1984 and found immediate success like homering in your first major league at bat. I’ve long loved this song, and apparently Charlie has also been a fan for many years…

The Outfield peaked with this song, which was their first release from their 1985 debut album, “Play Deep.” Reaching #6 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 in 1986, here is the band that early on was actually known as The Baseball Boys (a nod to the gang in the movie “The Warriors”), before changing their name to The Outfield. It’s their biggest hit and one that played over the loud speakers at Coors Field for many years. May you always think of Charlie Blackmon when you hear… “Your Love” by The Outfield.

A tip of the cap, and a thanks for the memories, Charlie.

sincerely,

the80s

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“Words Are Meaningless and Forgettable”

Posted on April 17, 2025 by Double K

– Depeche Mode

As another birthday rolled by several weeks ago, I was asked by a colleague at work for some words of wisdom or a life motto that I ascribe to. For the life of a 54-year-old man, I had no reply. I had no words to impart. No immediate wisdom to instill into future generations. Nothing. Not even a clever or sarcastic remark. All I had was a half-hearted stupid smile, a shaking of the head, a shrugging of shoulders, and an air uncomfortable silence.

Uncomfortable silence. Which begs the question or questions – should we all have something to contribute to this question? Does it even matter? Should I regurgitate a common phrase or motto I’ve heard a hundred times elsewhere? Am I possibly just overthinking an innocuous question? Maybe. But if so, why does it keep perpetually popping into my head at random times like a song that plays on repeat in your brain at 2 a.m.? As Dave Gahan’s recitative singing suggests in today’s post, are words simply trivial, unnecessary, truly meaningless, and forgettable? Maybe it is simply context related – the theme applies to situational relationships as today’s song seems to imply.

While I could have easily reached into my 80’s bag and suggested that “life moves pretty fast…” or “stay gold,” or “always do the right thing,” I guess by now, I’ve apparently taken a more contemplative, thoughtful approach much like I’m writing my own obituary or preparing a speech for a high school or college graduating class. Surely the question is not worth nearly that amount of reflection, my mind says. Yet, here I am, some 270 plus words into a post that has gone nowhere to this point except maybe to one of great philosophers of the 80’s and early 90’s – Beer Professor Norm Peterson with one of his most profound statements on the final episode of “Cheers”…

Surely love is a beautiful and worthy answer. But we obviously know and inherently understand that words are not meaningless and forgettable, because we have endless amounts of data supporting this. Some of us have more to say than others, but as a society, we rely on words… we hang onto words for generations. Jesus even stated some 2000+ years ago that “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will never pass away.” Proof that words will never be forgotten.

But sometimes the problem with words is that they produce noise. And there can be a lot of noise when you open yourself up to it. The noise can be perpetually endless, and it can be aggravating and messy and ugly and toxic and yet the noise can also produce a beauty you never saw coming, but getting there can be the difficult part. It should be the goal, but as I read recently in an article about Paul Skenes, the pitching phenom for the Pittsburgh Pirates, Skenes said that a coach of his reminded him that “You can’t master the noise until you master the silence.” Is his secret pitching coach Dave Gahan? Unknown at this point, but the statement made me pause for thought. Master the silence.

Maybe I’ve succumbed to Proverbs 17:28 which says “Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.” Skenes finds solace and meaning and sometimes answers to his art in the silence, which is interesting to me. Silence, stillness, both often perceived as passive laziness or indifference are often, in my opinion, misconstrued conclusions. Silence and stillness can be active signs of strength and even as a powerful act of surrender, of letting go. Maybe we all can’t let go a 100 mph fastball like Skenes can do, but we can let go of the problems, of the difficulties, and yes even of the noise.

And so we carry on through the ages with words that may be remembered and many which will be forgotten. Yet for most of us, we may constantly find ourselves challenged to produce more of… and sometimes only at a moments’ notice. So, as I prepare to fulfill the request of my coworker and address her harmless question from weeks ago, I will steel my resolve and prepare to relay a monumental, surely life-altering unforgettable moment, one that she will surely never forget as I walk the 10 steps, stop by the office door, peer in, and ironically utter noise from my mouth about being still and about mastering and yes, even enjoying the silence.

“All I ever wanted, all I ever needed
Is here in my arms ”

Depeche Mode began recording their “Violator” album in 1989 which included today’s featured song. When the song and video hit mainstream in 1990, the band suddenly became a spark of interest in my musical journey that had (up until that point) been comprised largely of top 40, rap, R&B, and hard rock genres. Considering this song peaked at #8 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 in July of 1990 and has been Depeche Mode’s highest charting single to date, one could argue I was still stuck in top 40 music, but it did unleash a certain curiosity into the older catalog of Depeche Mode which in turn led to my purchase of the Depeche Mode 101 live double cd, which had been released in 1989. I also purchased DM’s follow up cd/album “Songs of Faith and Devotion.” And honestly after that, my Depeche Mode “phase” had run its’ course as I stuck to pre-1993 Depeche Mode anytime I was in the appropriate mood.

I’ve forgotten how much I actually enjoy the video featuring “King” Dave cloaked in a royal robe, wearing a crown and carrying a foldable deck chair marching through the Scottish Highlands, along the coast of the Algarve and finally into the Swiss Alps in search of a suitable place to “Enjoy the Silence”…  

Words are definitely necessary to prolong the life of a writer, so carry on my writing friends.

sincerely,

the80s

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“I Love You Guys”

Posted on March 17, 2025 by Double K

– Coach Norman Dale

A very kind St. Patrick’s Day wish to you all in this fine month of the calendar.

I am very fortunate having had three really good basketball coaches in my life, four if you count my dad (and I do). Arguably the fifth best basketball coach I ever had passed away at the age of 95 a few weeks ago. I never met him in person and I never actually played basketball for him. His real name was Gene Hackman, but his portrayal as the tough but tender Norman Dale, coach of the fictional Hickory Huskers in the 1986 film “Hoosiers,” was a very real coach for me and for many of us who grew up in the 80’s and who have carried their love of this coach and this film for nearly 40 years.

Sure he may have been a fictional coach with well written lines read off of a script, but it didn’t make him any less real to those of us who couldn’t and still can’t get enough of his one season and the miraculous run to the Indiana State high school basketball championship in 1952.

I was a sophomore in high school in November of 1986 when “Hoosiers” was released into theaters. The very first viewing I had was with my Norman High School basketball teammates several days after its’ release. With apologies to Dr. J and “The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh,” “Hoosiers” was (and still is) the finest basketball movie ever made. I remember watching it and thinking “I am ready to run through a wall to win a state basketball championship.” The Norman High Tigers were a really good team that year, but unfortunately we lost in the Area championship in spring of 1987.

Coach Dale was a coach not unlike thousands of other coaches of that era – a hard-nosed, passionate, teacher of the game unafraid to stand on his principles with a “my-way-or-the-highway” authoritarian leadership. It was certainly a different time and high school basketball was not a democracy. Basketball teams were run by coaches who demanded effort and required loyalty. Was it always a perfect system? Of course not. Times change, philosophies and style change, but I can’t say it’s better or worse. That is a matter of opinion. But it sure was different from today’s game that hails the “players’ coach” and finds nothing unusual about players who transfer from one year to another, from one high school to another, from one college to another all in search of something they themselves can’t quantify. Most don’t know what they want or what they need in a coach or school. Today makes 1952’s Hickory Huskers even more bizarre and peculiar when viewed through the lens of those who are barely old enough to drive or vote. Yes kids, coaches were once very demanding, yelled at you, and didn’t care a whole heck of a lot what you wanted. But if you cared, if you became part of a team, and if you put forth maximum effort then sometimes the reward was met with a gold trophy at the end of the season. Even when it wasn’t, there was still a reward just in the journey of trying to get there.

If you put your effort and concentration into playing to your potential, to be the best that you can be, I don’t care what the scoreboard says at the end of the game, in my book we’re gonna be winners”

The 1952 Hickory Huskers were based upon the 1954 Milan Indians. The Milan coach (Marvin Wood) was only 26 years of age and not a middle-aged coach with one last chance as was Hackman’s portrayal. Milan also had 10 players compared to Hickory’s seven (and a half if you include manager/hero Ollie; an event that was fictionalized by the movie). Milan was also coming off of a 1953 final four appearance at state the previous season. They didn’t exactly come out of nowhere to win the title in 1954.

“Five players on the floor functioning as one single unit: team, team, team – no one more important than the other.”

Milan did have a real life Jimmy Chitwood. His real name was Bobby Plump. Though he didn’t tell Coach Wood “I’ll make it” at the end of the real life championship game in 1954 against the larger, powerful Muncie Central Bearcats, the final 18 seconds did unfold just like in the movie.

Here is the real life Jimmy Chitwood, Bobby Plump, with his game winner in 1954…

Bobby Plump went on to play college ball at Butler University in the same Hinkle Fieldhouse on Butler’s campus where the championship game took place. After his time at Butler, Plump played three seasons (1958-61) in Bartlesville, Oklahoma for the AAU powerhouse Phillips 66ers. In one of those “small world” coincidences, my dad Jim Kerwin also played for Phillips for six seasons beginning in 1964. I’ve always thought this to be a great connection knowing that my dad met and knew Bobby Plump from the numerous Phillips reunions which used to be held every year after the team disbanded following the 1968 season.

(Note the “Standing” and “Kneeling” are backwards above. My dad, Jim Kerwin, kneeling #30)

RIP Gene Hackman. RIP Coach Norman Dale.

God needs you on the bench.

sincerely,

the80s

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R.I.P. Rickey

Posted on December 22, 2024 by Double K

A repost from two years ago in honor of the greatest leadoff hitter in MLB history…

“I’ve Been Caught Stealing”

Posted on July 4, 2022 by Double K

“Once when I was five.” – Jane’s Addiction

Jane’s Addiction frontman Perry Farrell was apparently caught stealing once when he was five. Big. Deal. There was a man who was a master when it came to getting caught. In fact, he was caught stealing 334 more times than Farrell! His name is Rickey Henderson.

“People say I stole a lot of bases. I stole bases for a reason. I crossed the plate.” – Rickey Henderson

I was a big fan of those late 80’s/early 90’s Oakland A’s teams and I loved watching the all-time king of thefts swipe bags and hit bombs. But I am ashamed to admit that I traded Rickey Henderson. Twice. It was early 1984, and judging by the photo above, Jane’s Addiction is disgusted with what I did too. Obviously, I didn’t trade Rickey literally, but in the world of sports card trading instead. I was 12 and we were still a few years away from “The Bash Brothers” (unless you consider Dave Kingman and Dwayne Murphy the ’84 version), and the dominating run of the Oakland A’s when I dealt away TWO perfectly fine 1980 Topps Rickey Henderson rookie cards.

The 1980 Rickey Henderson rookie card.

The handful of magic beans I received that day for my two Hendersons is still a hazy memory, and I’m probably better for that fact. I would like to think I received something of equal or better value that day, but the memory of my friend Tim showing one of our friends the value of the Henderson cards in my Beckett Price Guide after our trade that day leads me to believe I was probably suckered by a few later year Bobby Murcer or Rod Carew cards (two of “my guys” back in 1984; Carew because he was a future Hall of Fame hitting machine, Murcer because I had his autograph and he was a native Oklahoman like myself). Whatever the transaction, I am almost positive I was on the losing end of it then and now.

My actual official price guide from 1984 still in my possession.
Back in 1984, the Henderson cards were worth $3-$5 each, which is practically a thousand dollars when you’re 12.

By 1984 Henderson was about four seasons into his major league career. Prince and Tina Turner were blowing up the charts and “Ghostbusters” and “Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom” were leading the way at the box office. Henderson was a young rising star then, but we didn’t really know how bright his star would shine or how his career would finish. We do now. He finished as the all-time leader in steals (1,406), runs (2,295), and leadoff home runs (81). His rookie card is now worth in upwards of $400 in mint condition – a mere 9,900% increase (approximately). Rickey was a 10 time all-star, two-time World Series champion, and is widely regarded as the greatest leadoff hitter in the history of baseball, and also one of the greatest to ever refer to himself in the third person.

“Rickey was never motivated by stats. He was motivated by numbers. Wins, runs, steals.” – Rickey Henderson

Rickey stole his first base ever in his first game in the big leagues on June 24, 1979 off of the Texas Rangers’ battery of John Henry Johnson and Jim Sundberg. And it would be in just Rickey’s third game on June 26, 1979 when Paul Splitteroff of the Kansas City Royals picked him off from second base marking the first official caught stealing of Rickey’s 24-season, nine-team major league career.

And thus, began Rickey’s long illustrious career of being caught stealing.

“Don’t worry, Rickey, you’re still the best.” – Rickey Henderson

(AP Photo/Eric Risberg, File)

“Hey all right! If I get by, it’s mine. Mine all mine!”

As I referenced at the beginning of this post, the opening line of this classic song is grounded in fact as Jane’s Addiction lead singer Perry Farrell was caught trying to steal a rubber bouncy ball called a Pennsy Pinky at a local candy store in Queens back in the mid 60’s when Perry was just a young pup.

Farrell’s story reminded me of a time when I was also about five myself in the mid 70’s in Stillwater, Oklahoma. I was an enrollee of Mrs. Collins’ Kiddie College preschool, and there was a boy that convinced me to sneak into the front hallway where all of the coats were hung. He proceeded to start checking the coat jacket pockets so I did the same thing and I remember my little fingers grasping onto a Hot Wheels car that he and I took turns playing with. Crime pays! I don’t remember getting caught but thankfully my moral compass pointed me away from a life of kleptomania. Thus, a life of stealing or getting caught was not in the cards for me.

“When I want something,
I don’t want to pay for it
I walk right through the door. Walk right through the door.”

Formed in 1985, Jane’s Addiction is regarded as one of the early frontrunners for 90’s alternative rock bands. Drugs and dissent tore this volatile group apart shortly after their most well known hit captured the hearts and minds of rebellious youth in 1990. With Farrell’s dog Annie barking out the intro, here is Jane’s Addiction and their Modern Rock Chart #1 hit from 1990, “Been Caught Stealing”…

If Rickey Henderson owns this song just remember: “Rickey doesn’t have albums. Rickey has cds.“

Thanks for reading, and remember thou shalt not steal… unless you’re Rickey Henderson.

sincerely,

the 80’s

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“Look in the Mirror”

Posted on December 16, 2024 by Double K

“And you see how you’ve been taken
You won’t surrender
But now your heart is breakin’.” – John Waite

There’s a poignant scene in the 1989 holiday classic “Christmas Vacation” where Clark gets locked in the attic while the rest of the family goes to town. While in the attic, he becomes misty-eyed watching old videos of days gone by as Ray Charles provides a beautiful backdrop with his overlooked 1985 song “The Spirit of Christmas.” Clark is of course watching videos on an old reel to reel projector and reflecting upon simpler times from nearly 30 years ago from when his parents and grandparents were younger and Clark, just a boy in 1955, wanted nothing more but to play with his sled in the snow and examine the contents of his presents under the tree.

In a movie known mostly for its outlandishness, it’s a quiet, soft, wonderful moment in the movie. I was Clark Griswold recently only I wasn’t trapped in an attic bundled in ridiculous attire to stay warm, but instead I was seated in a fold-out camping chair in my garage, aka my makeshift video studio. Over the past several months I have been converting old VHS tapes to digital. I think twenty something years of lugging around boxes and tubs full of old VHS tapes is long enough. My back surely thinks so. In one corner of my garage, I have an old television, a combo VHS/DVD player, and an old Macbook Air loaded with conversion software that transfers the physical video to digital. As I convert one VHS tape to digital, I toss the old VHS tape into the trashcan nearby. I admit though, it is difficult to let that physical piece of history go. Even though I’ve preserved it onto digital medium, a little part of me feels the past slipping away with every tape that gets thrown into its’ new forever home destined for a city dump somewhere.

So as the late Sunday sun was setting and darkness was taking hold inside the garage, I sat misty-eyed watching an old VHS tape slowly come to life featuring my wife and daughter and myself 23 years younger. There were scores of cameos from friends, nieces, nephews, uncles, aunts, cousins, grandpas, and grandmas which made it all the more endearing and meaningful as the grandparents are no longer with us. The year of our Lord 2001 mine as well have been 53 years ago instead of 23.

“Do you remember
When you got your lucky break
You’re looking back now
And it seems like a mistake”

And John Waite singing “Change” in 1982 mine as well have been a million years ago…

The one constant through the years has been baseball. No, Ray, actually the one constant through the years has been change. It doesn’t matter who you are. And I’m thankful for that. I love change… quarters, nickels, dimes… hey-oh! (pause for laughter). Seriously though, who wants to be stuck in a time and age never to grow or change? The irony of this little blog is that it may seem to be stuck in an era of big hair, neon colors, and music that never dies but it’s also an ode, a tribute to the passing of time and to that change within us all no matter the difficulty or circumstance that may have proceeded it.

I was watching another old VHS tape a few days earlier. This one was from 1988 and it was nearly Christmas in our household in Norman, Oklahoma. It was an evening where it was only my dad, mom, sister, and myself (oh, and our dog Krissy). I watched as we hung lights and ornaments on the tree in our living room all carefully orchestrated by our mom. I watched as I sat on top of my struggling sister laying on the couch as every big brother must do at least once a year. I watched as her and I frustratingly tried to tell my dad how to work the video recorder that he was using (“Dad, there’s a button that you can push for the time and date, you don’t have to say it outloud!”) Then, I watched as my sister and I sat side by side reading Luke 2 from The Bible (as was always custom at Christmas growing up). I also watched in sadness and shame as my sister (just weeks shy of turning ten years old) mispronounced the word “espoused” (meaning engaged) in Luke 2:5 where it says Joseph was to be taxed with Mary, his espoused wife, being great with child. Instead, my sister said his “exposed” wife, which to be fair was pretty funny, and so we all laughed. Except her. My sister cried. She was embarrassed. She was hurt. I took The Bible from her and continued reading while my sister quietly wiped the tears from her face all preserved by my dad’s filming onto a 36 year old VHS tape. Watching that moment unfold, I felt embarrassment and shame but not for her, but for myself. An older, wiser, changed brother that could travel back in time would have put his arm around her and told her it was ok, that I was proud of her for reading the greatest birth story ever, and that I love her and we all make mistakes. Who ever uses the word “espoused” anyway? Why didn’t King James just say “engaged?” Then, when the tears started to dry up, I would have told her that the story could have taken a very dramatic turn though were Mary riding into Bethlehem exposed on the back of a donkey. We would have laughed together then, and continued on.

The feelings of guilt, shame, and insignificance are woven throughout the whole birth story though when you think about it closely, verse after verse. They are not exclusive feelings for just you and I to take ownership of and display like some sort of twisted crown of grief won through competition. No, they were the same feelings a pregnant virgin teenager must have had upon miraculously being conceived with child before being wed to her man, Joseph. The same thoughts and feelings this young couple of teenagers fleeing Nazareth must have had, riding on a donkey and carrying the Messiah who will one day save the world. Just for fun, where did God have them for the birth of a King? A comfortable bed in a warm, well-lit inn with attendants by their sides. No, in a stable, a cave, an old wooden shack, whatever imagery you like, the fact was they weren’t staying in a Holiday Inn Express. All was planned accordingly and foretold, but it had to all be beyond the scope of Mary and Joseph’s human minds. As a man, I think immediately about Joseph. Can you imagine Joseph’s thoughts? The King of all Kings is being born right now… in this place? Really? As a father myself, a provider, a protector, I would definitely have thoughts of shame and embarrassment at this scenario if it were me. Nowhere does it mention this is what Joseph thought, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that these thoughts crossed his mind a time or two. After all, he too was like us – a fallible human father with limited understanding.

“We always wish for money
We always wish for fame
We think we have the answers”

It’s so easy to think we have the answers, and sometimes we do, but sometimes our answers change as we grow. And hopefully those answers lead us to change for the better especially in a time and age where it seems everyone has an answer for everything – answers mostly on how “to improve things”… your health, your wallet, your home, your work, yourself. It is so easy to become cynical and bitter in our world today when people fail us, because people are not perfect. And the imperfections and the failings and the triumphs and the successes will change us because life commands it of us. But please don’t let events from 1988 or 2008 or 2020 continue to bring upon you crashing waves of guilt or shame. Treat them like an unwanted Christmas gift – please return to sender. It’s too easy, especially this time of year, to pick up that shame, that embarrassment, that feeling of insignificance and lug it around with you. Remember, those events have helped shape you and who you are today, but guilt and shame are not meant as burdens to be carried throughout life like a box of VHS tapes or better yet like a heavy old wooden cross. No, they are meant to be carried to the cross and left there.

“Some things ain’t ever gonna change (change)”

You and I will change mentally, emotionally, physically (I’ve got to stop eating the green and red Christmas M&M’s!), but I am also glad that there are some things that “ain’t ever gonna change” like this music video. This wonderfully, corny video was in heavy rotation on MTV upon its’ release, and features then actress/model Tina Gullickson in a leading role and carrying a bit of a cocaine habit apparently. Those of you with a love of Jimmy Buffet may recognize or know her as a long time singer (since 1995) in Jimmy’s band “The Coral Reefers.”

From 1982 (and also again in 1985 from the “Vision Quest” soundtrack), a song that peaked at #16 on the Billboard Hot 100, this is former Babys lead singer John Waite (make sure you make it to the end of the video for “the big reveal”) carrying us through “Change”…

Thanks for reading. Thanks for being you. And Merry Christmas.

sincerely,

the80s

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