The Phoenix

So we all seem to have this desire to grace the planet with our presence.  So many of us spend our lives just fighting to be heard, seen, acknowledged by other people and by Gods.  I sit here, typing at the age of 53, after a few days of deep contemplation and life evaluation (I only blog/journal when I feel like I'm going to be profound which sadly I seldom accomplish but I love to hear myself blabber on and on).   I have realized very few "truths" in my life, one of them being that there are very few "truths".  I do, however, realize that I, hopefully, was completely missing the point of this experience, I've been missing the meaning behind the story but I keep reading the book even though I can't comprehend it. I have had an enlightening week and I feel closer to whatever I am seeking.  My earliest memories are of a very disfunctional family, a child that felt very insecure and scared (me) not knowing what it was to have a real home, or a sense of security.  My father was an alcoholic, frustrated in the closet homosexual (well in the closet when he wasn't out with his man friends) he was full of anger and while he didn't physically manifest his anger, he verbally destroyed us.  My Mother was my rock (though I didn't realize she was made of glass until I was much older) she tried so hard to make things normal for me dispite her own anxiety and struggles, but she failed to fix it because she was to cut down by then to be much more than "there".  I love her with all my heart to this day because she wanted in the deepest part of her for things to be different but she couldn't find her way.  I have always been, had always been, the person that said the past should not be a factor when you are talking about your short comings, you are who you are and you know right from wrong so don't blame everything on your bad childhood just get over it.  I think I was wrong...somewhat.  I still believe that a bit but I have softened.  Conflicts with my family have shown me...me.  Recently I have had to step back and look at myself from a different, less flattering perspective and I can clearly see that my upbringing has had a huge influence on who I became as an adult, though a few months ago, I would have denied it whole heartedly.  People teach you about yourself if you are able to learn that you will be a better person for it.  My reactions to things that I thought were "rejection" were so justified in my mind until I really listened, and watched myself from everyone else's perspective.  I was so ready to be rejected and ignored and bullied that I reacted to it, even if it hadn't happened, hair trigger sort of thing.  I also (now) realize that I allow people to walk all over me because I am afraid of conflict that involves the people I love.  Conflict with strangers, bring it on...conflict with my loved ones, curl up in a ball.  Once I really looked at all this, I knew that I react exactly like I always have, I didn't change, I didn't heal, I didn't "become" anything else at all.  I am still 10, hanging on to my Dad's leg on Thanksgiving day begging him not to leave us while he shook me off then walked to his car and didn't stop driving until he hit Florida where he stayed for years...without us.  He did bring me back a transistor radio when he came home 4 years later so all was forgiven.  I am still the 15 year old girl sitting in a dark room with my Mother while we tended to one of her daily panic attacks with the curtains drawn, door shut...so sure she was going to die right there because she told us she was going to die right there and it felt like she could go just from fear itself, fear of her own mind and that's the scariest fear there is.  My friends were at Summit Mall, getting hot pretzels at Woolworths...blue slushies, with 2 straws, looking at boys, I was trying to keep my Mother alive just by being with her because she was so afraid to be alone.  I swore that I would NEVER allow my children (if I should ever have them) to take care of me, to give up their lives so mine would be better and I have held true to that I believe. I don't ask my children for anything...I want them to be free and happy and full of adventure.  Unfortunately 2 of my children/adult children now, have some emotional sensitivities, I believe they are genetic and NOT learned behavior (not 100 percent anyway) because I have fought so very hard to bring them up with love, hugs, and a huge dose of normal, but they are finding their way, they are strong and capable, not always, but they know they can come to me because I get it, I know exactly how they feel, they feel like my Grandmother, Mother, Sister, and me, completely lost and afraid at times, but it's episodic and we understand that it's physical and treatable and we go on, we are a team this family, a really bad team with a LOT of love and the ability to laugh at ourselves.  I realize now what I thought was Ozzy and Harriet (if you even remember) was MY version of Ozzy and Harriet because it was / is so much better than my experience of family that I thought I was kicking some MOM ASS!  I was wrong, tough lesson but one (now) learned. I was so hell bent on my children having a voice, choices, hugs and a warm home with lots of pretty things homecooked meals and lots of dogs!  All the things I thought were the makings of a great childhood, came from my dreams of what childhood should be, things I dreamt of when I was sleeping in the car in a rest area because we were evicted (again), things I dreamt about with my dog laying at my side for 14 years knowing that the only real friend I would ever have would be him...Jaque, my dog who would growl at my dad when he yelled at me for some stupid ass thing like not taking my shoes off when I walked in the house, or then the next week, not leaving my shoes on when I walked in the house (the oils from your feet ruin the carpet you know).  One day my dog got so upset when my dad was yelling at me that my dad picked him up and punched him in the air and down the basement steps.  He survived and he never stopped trying to kill my dad with his eyes.  I remember when Jaque finally left, he was old and sick and going blind, I was 15, he was 14 and we had landed in a home that we would be in until after I was married with children of my own ( my dad settled down a bit and we had our forever home and things were better).  It was almost like Jaque knew I was ok(ish) now and he could go, there was a huge storm and somehow he got out the back door and just kind of walked away and I went to find him because the worst thing was when he ran away it just killed me, but he did that from time to time and we always brought him home.  This time we never found him and someone told me that an old dog who was sick would sometimes just wander off to save the people they love from the dying process, so even at the end that dog wanted the best for me and I never forgot him, never will...to this day dogs are my favorite companions, I have 3 and they mean the world to me.  One time my dog (Jaque) ran away and was gone for 3 days, my Mother was in the psychiatric ward for an extended stay (again) I was at my Grandmother's and he wandered off and probably headed for home but got lost.  I couldn't get out of bed, I didn't eat and my dad was so worried that he took out an ad in the paper, found my guy and didn't tell me until he came home from work and put him on my bed, I was so overcome with emotion, that couldn't stop shaking and crying, it was like he had come back from the dead and I couldn't believe he was there with me, best day ever.  I remember that like it was yesterday and I remember it because I realized at that moment dispite the fact that my dad's demons made him a terrible parent, that he loved me in his own way and I thought of him differently from then on.  I didn't hate him, I was sorry for his miserable life and the fact that he had to hide himself from the world and live an unauthentic life for fear of persecution and shame, he had to hold my Mother together so she wouldn't disolve into nothing and he had to deal with alcoholism on top of it all.  I couldn't have done it, and there is no blame there now, not for that at least but I would grow to dispise him for mistakes to be made in the future, he turned out to be a shit, overall, just a true shit, but for now I thought he was not so bad.  So I AM a product of my past, and it's OK.  The lesson here is not to live there, not to accept your weaknesses because it's "how you were raised" but to accept that and fight it...pick a different reaction, really look at what hurts you and deal with it like a big girl.  I have never emotionally been "a big girl" I have been that wounded child my whole life.  This week, I realized that she needs to grow up and stop bothering me so that I can teach my children (grown or not) to shut the little boys and girls up and end a cycle of thinking that has gone on for generations now.  I can't fix the genetic issues, anxiety, panic, depression, it's not something I can fix for them and I hate to say this because I am not a prescription drug fan most of the time, but if my Mother would have had prozac when she was going through her breakdowns, she would have been capable of having a life worth living, once my Father passed away my Mother changed, she was fun, ( she was always pretty fun actually she was an aging party girl and all of my friends/cousins adored her she was the true center of attention) and a great Grandmother, and yes she had a bit of "medicine" to help ease the past, but it was way late in the game for her, by that point there were no more dreams of love and laughter, no ambitions, only some cancer that would take 7 years to do her in, but those were the happiest years of her adult life, the last 7...aint it "ironic".  Sometimes, we have physical issues that need some tending and I'm glad we live in a time when that's a possiblity. What I can fix are my over reactions to things percieved, that are not real and that is what I am working on with all my heart and soul.  So I have spent my life trying to be noticed, trying to be something that people would remember because I felt so invisible for so long, I was always just an accidental product of a bad relationship, something to be dealt with and endured because it was the right thing to do...I'm very glad for it actually.  I remember My Mom saying she was so sure she would die, when she found out she was pregnant, she was FURIOUS and scared, she took phenobarbital while she was pregnant, she smoked and couldn't eat, then all of the sudden she said she felt so good, so normal like whatever was wrong with her physical make up was cured by her pregnancy after the first trimester.  She believed I "saved her life".  She thought maybe it was hormonal that the pregnancy hormones fixed her "issues" because both times she was pregnant, she felt wonderful after the first 3 months.  I believe I came into this world just to hold her together and I started in utero, taking care of me mum, but whatever the reason I spent my life trying to win people over and show them that I was worth it, worth the time and the energy to get to know me, I always just wanted a chance and I always got one. I look down at things and I see how unimportant we all are, we are just specs from a birds eye view, we don't matter, we are cells in a sea of blood, bacteria in an ocean, stars in the sky, but I always wanted to be the one little spec that people noticed, so they could love me and I would be special.  The strange thing about being 53 is that no one notices, no one listens, no one finds any value in a middle aged woman, no more sexy, no more edgy, no more cool and trendy, just...invisible so you have to fight harder to stand out and then when you do, if you care to that is, you are just that crazy lady that hangs out at starbucks, with the little hat and the hippie skirts, you are no one, have been no one, will never be anyone ever again and you know what......it's lovely!  Anonymous, just another Mom reading Fifty Shades Of Gray, remembering a life of rising above a predisposition to failure, rising high enough to be the one little light that was a tad brighter than the others for a minute, maybe seen by God or Aliens or Human's just for a second, as my Aunt Dean used to say I was the little engine that could, and for a nano second in an endless universe, I made a mark..... on myself....just on myself, I rose above an endless sea of negative possibilities to raise a family of substance, potential and love and hope.  I have set them out on the world to do the same, to shine for just long enough to prove to yourself that you can do anything and that's all that matters in the end, how you feel about yourself and how much you love and cherish the select few you get to share the time with.  I know the people I have raised to be good and just, talented and hard working, intelligent and interesting.  I know my heart, I know the reasons for my choices that are mine to make (and should not be judged by anyone). I know where I came from and I have no idea where I am going and that's OK because I love a good adventure....it's how I was raised  :)

Been A Long Time Since I Rock and Rolled..........

Yeah well, I have not blogged in a bit so I thought I should attempt to say something interesting, whitty or poigniant.  I just wrapped my 6th solo CD (7th album) and a best of compilation.  I can't believe I am now 52 and still working as a musician/vocalist/writer person.  I remember when I told everyone if I didn't have a decent record deal (back in the day when that was a "thing") by the age of 30 I would quit, and I did...for a long while. I actually stopped working a few times along the road, once when Unit 5 broke up I left the buisness for years and worked as a hair and make up person. I started recording again in 1994 and have managed to put an album out now and again over the years.  At this point things are VERY different from my last album experience, not only the way things are recorded just technically, but the person I am now is not the same person who recorded Ghost Town 5 years ago.  I conceptualized the Ghost Town album during a time when my life was a bit bleak, I was caring for my Mother who was dying and the mood around here, around me, was dark.  The mood didn't lift much until recently and I did not care much about music or anything other than raising my family, facebooking to much and trying to stand by my man while he watched his life's work crumble.  I did that for over 5 years, we seem to be either used to it or the mood is just lifting because everything is temporary. I was lost and trying to re-evaluate my life and my place in the world for a while, through the process, which as I look back I can now see clearly, I learned my place, I gained some momentum and I crossed a bridge into the "older woman" village on the other side of the "younger woman" village I had lived in.  Now my view is quite a bit different, it's better in a lot of ways and not better in a lot of ways.  The bad thing is there is no longer that voice in my head that tells me I am not really to old to do anything...that voice stopped spewing at me when I turned 50 and I'm glad because it would have been lying for I am now absolutely to old to do some things and pull it off without backlash.  IT'S NOT BECAUSE I GIVE A RATS ARSE if you think I'm to old to work in the music buisness, it's not about that because I will work until I don't love it anymore and if you don't want to look at my wrinkled old shtick up there don't come (so that's the positive part about getting older, you get sassy and you don't give a shit what people think most of the time so it's kind of cool). It's the "other stuff" I can't pull off because It hurts...my body hurts.  I no longer paint my own house with wild abandon, I can't walk more than a mile anymore because my feet hurt, I can't see the lyrics to the songs I am trying to write without reading glasses and I can't hold more than 2 glasses of wine without getting stupid or having to pee.  I am on the other side of the bridge, and I can tell.  HOWEVER, I can still write an album with or without help, though working on Queen Of Nothing with Ryan Humbert was a blast. Some days I feel 90 and some days I feel 20 but all days I know I am round about 50 something on the outside, it's the inside that's tricky because the inside has no idea what the hell it's doing on what day, or why or if it's old or young, the inside is stupid as hell.  I cry if you look at me cross eyed and I snap before you have really done anything wrong...I'm just ready for it.  BUT I have more confidence in my ability to sing/write than I ever have but less confidence on stage (I have grown to dislike it a bit actually but I'm trying to get it back).  I am about to out this record so I need to embrace getting back up there because it's what you do, you record and you play and promote and hope some people buy it.  Without a live show to back up the product there's not a real point to any of it so I am trying to get my mood and my ass back into stage form (at least within reason on both points).  I never was a huge fan of playing, I always felt a bit insecure though I'm not sure anyone knows that.  When I was young and thin I was afraid my voice was not up to par and I always worried that the lower range of my voice would give way during a live show, I had a limited range where the lows were concerned back in the day. But now I am older and NOT thin but my voice doesn't worry me anymore, I have excercised it to the point of being confident that it will "everybody get high, everybody get low" as needed, but I feel insecure in my own skin up there now so that's kind of no fun at all, I don't think I have ever had the pleasure of hitting the stage confident about everything I was bringing to the picnic, body soul and talent, they haven't synced up as I would have liked over the years.  I would love to be all Chrissie Hynde, thin, cool as hell, voice better than ever, still looking like a rock star.  I feel like the people who don't know me are thinking..."wow who's letting the Hudson High soccer Grandma's sing tonight"?  But then I think..."Screw it because I can do this and you can do...NOTHING AS WELL OR AS COOL AS THIS SO BUGGER OFF!!  That's how I build my self esteem now, I convince myself I am cooler than everyone, I say mean things to the people who have way more on the ball than I do, but I say them to myself and then I laugh to myself and I am only one step away from being the old lady that sings Adele in your face at the bus stop when you look at me like I'm boring, it's like......take that!  BITCHES, you stand at the bus stop when you are 52 and fat and, sing Adele...THAT'S RIGHT!  YOU HEARD ME!  DAMN, I throw in a few runs while I hold one ear and close my eyes, for dramatic affect......got to prove I am special all over the damn place, should be able to tell that by just lookin.  BUT, I have grown to really like this side of the bridge where all of us old bitches know the score, we are better than we have ever been but no one gives a shit so we don't have to try so hard.
I have been doing the obligitory minimum excercise these days, which for me is dancing (my body hurts) I was a dancer, I would like to think I still have the ability to get lost in it and enjoy it but so far I only "would like to think that" because I just count the minutes until I can stop (my body hurts).  I have tried to embrace my love of Yoga again, just for peace of mind and fluidity in my limbs but I can't do the forward poses anymore because my stomach is in the way.  I was once quite a wonderful sight to behold doing "the yoga" ...graceful, firm, confident.  NOW I am still a wonderful sight to behold...if you need a good belly laugh, because it's hilarious.  I no longer wear cool little yoga pants and sports bras, I have to wear my husbands shirt and my (thank God) pj pants, I didn't even know that it had gotten that bad until I bought the yoga pants and put them on with a black v neck t shirt (my favorite), I was sure of what it would look like (in my head) because I have owned many yoga pants and t-shirts in my life but the mirror was a cruel friend and told me in no uncertain terms that my once healthy relationship with spandex had run it's course and my new motto is.......cover everything that looks like skin.  So I do yoga, lazy man's yoga because I am uninterested, and I cover everything that I can without rendering myself immobile.  So coming soon to a venue near you....me, probably in the most clothing I can wear for whatever season we are in and it looks like, LUCKY ME.....Summer.   I have also been working on my guitar skills, I haven't played in a long time (my hands hurt) and I am more than a little rusty, I never learned a proper F chord because it's to "stretchy" and it involves a lot of work for my pinky and well, it's painful and I'm bored and uninterested so I may also hit the stage this summer being painfully great at E A C D G and the variations of such...but painfully bad overall...no F's no B's!  Thank God for bands, really good bands which I happen to have so the only reason I HAVE to play is so my guitar can cover my gut.  I am really looking forward to, however, seeing everyone!  I love it when all the crazy old (really now it's literal) Unit 5 fans show up and say hi.  I like talking to people, meeting people and "kabitzing".  I love to sing, I love to just...sing the songs and usually about 1/2 way through my set I am into the zone and no longer worried that I didn't lose enough weight in time.  This time however I have to worry also (well I don't have to but I choose to) that I am older than everyone else on the bill which really shouldn't matter at all, it is what it is, sometimes I feel it and sometimes I don't.  The good thing about the new record/shows is that my tone/mood while writing this album is that of a middle aged woman and there are a whole big lot of us out there so I am thinking my demographic has changed and I hope they get me, because...I am them, my songs should mean something to a wonderful group of people who have been neglected by the music biz......The Old Bitch Warriors (thanks Melanie).  So if all you wonderful 45+ women need someone to write about what you are going through at this stage of your life, I'm your spokesperson.  I think it's about time someone did a concept album about menopause (I'm working on it). 

Motherhood, All We Bare and All We Screw Up.

I blog even though I am not at all sure what blogging actually is.  I should say, I journal here so fire, water or time can not destroy my words because my main goal is to let my children and their children read about "stuff" so they come to know me better one day, like my mother did with her old school paper journal.  So if it crosses your mind that I am full of myself for writing about my life, you would be wrong.  I am full of nothing but the desire to someday be understood.  So having said that...
Standing at the crossroads, that's absolutely where I am, right now, 52 beginning and ending everything all at once and I have to say, it's pretty heavy.  As I look back, I see my life as having been chaotic, unstable, challenging, blessed and cursed.  As I look forward  I see a sense of calm, resolve, stability even in the midst of enormous challenge and change.  I don't know why it took me 52 years to get it together, it's actually not a completed process so I'm not even there yet.  I know that my mind has always been very hard to quiet, I am guilty of thinking way to deep into simple matters that really didn't need figuring out.  I rode the roller coaster but tried to climb out the back instead of sitting and letting it happen. I see this trait in my children, in different ways.  So now the looking back, and it is not always the easiest thing for me.   One of my fantastic children (you know who you are) is fearful and anxious, full of insecurities with a bubbly personality and inner demons to spare. The other is (you also know who you are) making big plans always jumping in head first, mind going all the time, thinking and planning then stressing out to get these things done. The other is (you know this is you but you will argue with it) the epitome of the tortured artist, brilliant, talented and brooding, prone to bouts of deep depression yet funny and fascinating to be around most of the time, though this child would never think they were fascinating, talented or interesting, they would be wrong.  I look back now and I see I did all of these same things, I am guilty of  being insecure on the inside, bubbly on the outside, angry and brooding, etc.  I have come to the realization that it's just a personality's way of coping with the lot they have been given, all these "issues" we have. I had to escape from a hard childhood into a world of plans and dreams just so I could form a way out of it all.  It gave me hope, kept me looking forward. When I was around 12 I used to go into the woods by myself and pretend I lived there, alone with the animals. I would go deep in the woods for hours and I was rather like Peter Pan but with no Lost Boys. I LOVED it, it was an escape and I was in control of my entire life, the rocks were my chairs, the grass was my bed, I actually felt like I had my own little "pad", I would decorate it using coke bottles, flowers rocks, whatever.  I LOVED being there so much I can't tell you, I had a pet squirrel! I would jump down hills, run, climb trees and no one was around so it was silent and blissful, no sad Mother crying about life, no fighting drunk Father yelling at us, it was sooooooo peaceful and I knew as soon as I could, I would have my own place to be, to control and control became an issue, right then and there, I realized I liked it and I also realized when I couldn't physically leave there was intense fear and sadness, so I learned to "mentally" leave, I developed a fantastic imagination.  No one really knew that side of me, it wasn't for public viewing, I have always kept a LOT to myself, mainly for fear of talking about it, I didn't want to ever get emotional and out of control and just talking about things brings it up and causes me distress, it always has so I just bury it. I think, on the outside, I was always pretty bubbly and easy going. I was "the nice one" most of the time though sometimes I was very nasty to people, even though it wasn=t the norm, it happened more than it should have. I am not now by the way,  I used to let people know if they crossed me, that I wasn't having it, I could cut you down before you even got started and you would feel it.  2 of my children inherited this fantastic gift and use it readily I am quite sorry to say.  Again, I think it was a form of self preservation, it kept people from being able to hurt me or make me feel bad, I simply pounced on them before they could do that.   I had lunch with one of my best friends Mark (30 years plus) the other day, and he asked me "Do you still have a temper"?  I said "No I really don't".  He said "good".  All 3 of my children have a tendency toward that same wounded puppy personality, to different degrees but it's present.  Is it genetic?  They have parents who indulge them,  who adore them, parents who really care for each other so the daily fighting that warped me, they have never really experienced (or so I thought, little did I know that fighting affects the family even if it's not the parents doing it).  Scott and I argue an average of 2 times a year at the most, we really like and respect each other so they have been lucky there, however the fighting between one of my children and myself, has been brutal and my emotional response to it has shed a light on my weakness and complete inability to cope with fighting in a way that anyone could call "adult like". I cave and crumble and cannot handle it not even a bit, so when I am put upon by the people who are supposed to love me, I react strongly, like a wounded child, not a Mother and I never thought it was me being weak, I thought it was them being cruel, well,  it's both but I did not handle it correctly and my children have grown up thinking me weak because that is what I have given them, just like my Mother gave me, but I understand her now and I know she did what she had to do and I love my Mother, she was WAY tougher than I thought.  What was once a bad attitude that I thrashed the people who hurt me with, was turned into sadness and weakness because I did not EVER want to bully or demean my children, it was different so it just...hurts me and I give up, I surrender, and it sets a bad example and makes me feel weak and whipped. BUT, the harder part  is facing the fact that the baggage I carried over, was not dumped before it influenced my family, now they have a needy, weak and sad Mother to tend with, just what I said I would NEVER do.  Do I blame all the flaws on myself... absolutely not, I'm a firm believer in "it takes at least 2 to tango" and we have all been dancing for decades in this family, my family, back for many generations.   I can't really blame myself because I have tried my absolute best to be great at this, I was not a lazy, whatever Mom I was all hands on and love, support and fun.  However, I would be lying and that's not what this blog is about, if I didn't tell you, I screwed up a lot and it did not make growing up with me overly easy.  SO, it's not just you random Mom out there thinking she is the worst ever..it's a lot of us we just dont talk about it.  Being a Mother is hard work, it is rewarding and challenging and fulfilling but when you screw it up it stays on your mind and heart forever.  I think because my ultimate goal in life was to have a family that was something like perfect, I set myself up for failure. I really thought it was possible to just, have my own family and make it strong, loving, perfect and then it would wipe away all the yuck from the past.  I was wrong and oblivious.  I guess I thought if everyone just loved each other, hugged everyday, said I love you everyday, read books, played music together life would be all daffodils and bunnies.  Well, not so much because you have to set your little family up with rules and boundries and guidelines and RESPECT.  I didn't do that, I raised my children so free and easy because I thought that would spare them all the negative so there were not many rules, sleep when your tired, rise when you are rested, eat when you are hungry, your room is your space so if it's a mess and you are happy, that's fine, talk to me in any way you like because you have a right to express yourself, you are an individual not my "thing".  Bla Bla Bla Bla. My wonderful friend (you know who you are) had a lovely wine night with me one evening, which resulted in me spending the night at her house and sitting in my car smoking a cigarette and crying, while she sat there with me, that's actually a HUGE night I will always remember because it was ground breaking, eye opening, whatever.  Anyway, she said I was probably the most loving Mother ever, but I was wrong about my theory that "all you need is love".  She wisely told me children need discipline and rules to grow as human beings and thrive in this world because let's face it, the world is full of guidelines that my little hippie kids were having trouble grasping.  She was right, she usually is and I began the next day (or so I thought) trying to give more form to their lives so they would feel better about themselves and the world.  Cory was to old, he was past all that, he was a grown man and even though he was living at home, he was raised and functioning so it was to late for all the new life lessons.  THE GOOD NEWS IS, Cory is intelligent enough that he realized I was weak and spacey, he saw what life was about on his own, he stepped up, he moved out and is a thriving wonderful human being dispite my all you need is love upbringing.  He works, he goes to Kent State he is the most fantastic guitarist and songwriter and 2 of my favorite songs EVER have been written by my son.  Plagued by insecurity I doubt he will ever be a performing musician, though he has played a few shows, but he likes his life in a small sort of bubble that he can maintain and control, he always has and I don't see that changing. He is VERY slow to add anyone into his inner circle, slow to form friendships and relationships, he is always a bit put off by people but My God he is so smart, it's almost hard to talk to him he is that out there intelligent.  Cory will readily admit I wasn't involved enough with the parenting, that he always felt loved and cared for but he wasn't sure how to adjust to guidelines, he figured it out on his own.  My poor husband Scott!  He and I married when Cory was 7, he sat back and watched me give into everything to protect Cory from the harsh horrible world. If Cory didn't want to do something, he did not have to do it, I spoiled him and kept him very close and when Scott talked about it, I exploded..he's my son, I will do whatever I can to keep him from being hurt again with the bla bla bla.  I over compensated because Cory's life got off to a rough start, his Father died when he was 4, my Father died in front of him when he was 6, and there is so much more garbage he dealt with, it was rough and I wanted it to be over so I made him to happy with everything I could possibly give, I spoiled him and I wouldn't listen to anyone.  It was a rough patch and I thought everyone was wrong and I was right (that's another one of my problems by the way).  Emma was always a free spirit, little hippie (hipster) waiting to happen, she is a ball of creativity, songwriting, singing, acting, she writes incredible stories and draws these intricate amazing doodles, she is a vegan, a poet and quite the enchantress.  Talent is oozing out of her pores, she is day and night creating and it's an amazing thing to watch.  Emma's songs are fantastic, dark and edgy. She has been compared to Regina Spektor in her delivery and Joni Mitchell in her lyric content. Chuck Klosterman said she was "obviously very talented" and she is just wating for her break because I promise you it is coming, I WISH I had the depth as a writer that she has, she truly has something to say and her voice is incredible.   Emma is actually quite sunny most of the time, her sense of humor is whacky and she is a "who cares what people think I am having fun" kind of girl, she LOVES going out with her friends, she has a LOT of guy friends (just like her mama).  She is loud and funny and spontaneous, but when she gets something on her mind, she is dark and sad (just like her mama).  There is a show called "New Girl" the main character's name is Jesse and if you watch it, you have met Emma, they are so much the same. If you look at her pictures from prom in one of my facebook albums, you will see what I mean it's hilarious. Speaking of hilarious,  Marisa is HILARIOUS, her sense of humor is just like her Father's she is always cracking us up with the most random outbursts and nonsensical blabbing.  From the first week of her life, actually from the first day in the delivery room, Marisa was the easy one.  I was scheduled for a c-section and she was just coming anyway, right in the middle of Longhorn Steakhouse, probably because she didn't want to put me through the surgery. I could have had her with so little effort but they wouldn't allow it because I had 2 previous c-sections.  The nurse actually asked me to stop her birth so the doctor could come and do the c-section.  She kept saying STOP! DON'T PUSH and of course Marisa stopped because she didn't want to upset the system so we waited for my doctor to get there.  We nicknamed her Mother Theresa probably within the first week because she was so easy.  She slept, she ate, she smiled and was completely agreeable. Emma had been a very colicky baby, she cried non stop day and night and the only thing that could quiet her was Scott, she LOVED him from day one, he would take her outside and let the wind hit her face and we would stand there loving the silence because she would stop crying when we went outside. Scott would say "soon this will all be behind us and we will look back and tell stories about how hard it was" I would be crying and saying "She hates me, she only likes you"!  Marisa is the one who most suffered the drama of the way I raise my children. She is sensitive, introspective and EXTREMELY talented but somehow manages to stay under the radar. I believe there is so much goings on about Emma as a singer/songwriter that Marisa feels she is not as good or as worthy of praise.  One look at the video of her singing "My Man" from Funny Girl will show everyone that this girl has some pipes!  Marisa is a fantastic actress, great comedic actress and singer, if she had the time to devote (still) to this craft she could go very far in theater. I remember one time her director came to me after an audition and said "based on that audition she has the lead in the next play she auditions for" it was that good!  She is so very talented, it blows me away the depth of it.  If she wants to learn an instrument, she teachers herself and picks it up ridiculously fast, she can play piano and guitar (self taught). Marisa is, however, so busy being Marisa that she has fallen away from her theater days and it makes us very sad because she is SO SO GOOD! She works, does her schoolwork online, volunteers at church and does a lot of work with the less fortunate, she helps with kids at St. Mary (Hudson where we go to Church) she helps with food distribution at Saint Al's in Cleveland and she is so very Catholic and so very "good".  Marisa decided to become Catholic at the age of 12, she went through RCIA by herself because her hippie parents were not into organized religion, she actually put up with a bit of ridicule from her siblings and at times, me, for getting to involved in the Church.  When she was 13 she was baptized and she has truly earned the nickname Mother Theresa.  Marisa pretty much set rules for herself and followed them, she found her guidelines by going to church.  I realized to late that this particular child, needed structure and had to find it on her own and that makes me so very sad.  Because of her inspiration I am now going through RCIA and looking forward to calling myself "Catholic" I LOVE the faith and dispite it's bad press and failings through the years, the core of the church is beautiful, mysterious and so NOT what I thought.  So while my ponderings may make us all sound like a big ball of dysfunction, we are and we are not all at the same time.  This is a family that loves each other, deeply, celebrates and enjoys what we have set up here.  It's a family of different people sharing the same space and time and learning how to deal with differences in a constructive manner, sometimes it works and sometimes it does not.  What will our kids take away from being raised by Scott and I?  LOVE, even though it really isn't all you need...
UPDATE 11/2012:  Marisa left the Catholic church, I didn't make it through RCIA, it ended up being to closed minded and a bit to stuffy for us, we now choose to live a very non fundamentalist life.

Reflections on (My) Life and Post Rock And Roll Suicide Part 1

So obviously I don't really know how to "blog" I didn't research it before I jumped in (little insight into my personality right there).  Someone said it was journaling online so OK I can do that.  I started out wanting to write about my years as a working lead singer/songwriter in bands and now that I have done that, I would like very much to write about what that created and the person I am now.  Because I started this project for my children to get to know me as a person and not just a Mom I thought there is so so much more than that part of my life that I would just "journal" randomly about whatever comes up. 
After my years spent with Unit 5, I got married and quit music all together.  I loved domestic life, well it was not your average domestic life but to me it was Ozzy and Harriet. Now that I have a more realistic view of "normal" I think it's hilarious I thought I was domestic and settled.  Tony and I had our roles, he worked (hard) and I stayed home (a few odd jobs now and again like Burger King on Arlington St).  I liked to do (and I still do) housey stuff, cleaning, cooking, decorating, organizing, napping.  I eventually got my license and began doing hair for David Daniel's and Glemby's.  I HATED it, but after my seperation it kept us, Cory and I, afloat for a while, enough to have a really cute apartment at Highland Square, right on Market across from Dodies and Annabelles, The Bucket (some of you will remember).  I remember one night I had no show it was a weekend and it was Christmas time, Cory and I stayed awake and had hot chocolate (he was 3 or 4) and watched all the people leave the bars at 2 AM, snow was coming down really hard and I loved the noise of the street when the bars let out, there were pretty lights and it was one of those frozen in time moments, I had big windows so we just sat and watched, it was way better than sleeping.  I loved my apartment it was the first time in my life I felt like I wasn't anybody's "thing" or anybody's "belonging"  I was my own person with no one to answer to about anything, it was odd and took some getting used to.   I didn't feel like a piece of human garbage because there was no one around to make me feel that way.  Tony came to visit Cory, we had a fine working relationship at that point but he still let me know now and again that I had failed at everything.  Eventually he lightened up and we got over it and became very close.  My Dad didn't have much to do with us at that point, which was nice, so I didn't feel like I was failing him on any level, like weighing 130 instead of 115.  After I got out from under everyone's influence I gained a few pounds which I thought was stress, but (again looking back) it was because no one cared if I actually ate things that were fattening.  My dad always compared me to my Mother who was 90 pounds soaking wet (we used to try to fatten her up to 100 pounds when she got to thin) he said he always thought I would be his "skinny one" but when I got up to 130 I guess that was to much and it made him sad I was letting myself go.  I remember one Thanksgiving he asked me (in front of everyone) if I was really going to eat a piece of pie.  I was a size 8, maybe a 10 but I doubt it.  Then Tony (God rest his soul and I really mean that I have no bad feelings for him anymore I have grown to love him all over again in my mind and heart, not LOVE like I have for Scott but love because he was my friend) told me before we got married if I ever gained weight he would sleep on the couch and when I got pregnant with Cory he did.  So without the ever watching eyes to judge me in my OWN very own apartment, I was so content and centered I had my gorgeous, perfect son and he loved me unconditionally even I was a fat ass at 130 pounds I was happier and he thrived because of that.  Any Mother out there who is in a relationship that seems toxic, if you get the courage to change things, your happiness reflects in your children and they thrive in a less hostile environment, it's amazing.  All children want is love, they want happy parents that show them life is good and I really think a single parent can provide a stable, nurturing home, sometimes (a lot of the time) better than a 2 parent family that is   I really like (and this is going to be such a blow to the women's rights movement because let's face it I'm that influential...ok for those of you who don't know me that was a joke) the classic, male / female roles it's not for everyone and it shouldn't be, people should do what makes them happy right?  I personally, love cooking, taking care of the house, the kids, the pets, I like decorating my home and shopping at Hobby Lobby.  I enjoy baking and candles and blankets and a fire in the fireplace.  It's especially great when the kids play music and everyone is home.  I remember last Christmas, it was probably the best Christmas of my entire life, maybe even better than when I got my purple Schwinn bike with a sissy bar and a silver glittery bananna seat, but maybe not.  We were all "home" it was Christmas evening, my daughter Emma invited (finally) the boy she had liked for 2 years over and he came to visit and that was adorable because they so obviously liked each other and young romance is awesome.  Marisa had no plans at church which was a rare thing and she was home, my son had his friend Dan over, we love Dan he is like a second son.  We all sat on the floor in the living room and Cory played guitar and we all sang, Cory did a few of his songs and we had a little living room concert, Emma was upstairs with new boyfriend and they were laughing, and that's always special when there is laughter in the house. Scott was laying down on the couch in the family room by the fire, watching television.  The dogs were laying around loving all the people and attention.  We were picking at leftovers, the tree was gorgeous (Marisa did the entire 10 foot tree herself) and I felt like I understood (finally) what makes me happiest, and I decided then and there I never want to worry again about how many CD's I've sold (or didn't sell) or if someone liked my music, or thought my lyrics were simplistic, or what the critics would say about me getting older and fatter, it wasn't about who I knew or what I should do with my life in my 50's, I was doing it!  I was doing what I was supposed to do, I was enjoying the beautiful family I raised dispite great challenges, I was reasoning the fruits of my labor, I was watching myself evolve through the eyes of my children, they were happy, they were thriving and dispite my best efforts I didn't screw everything up!   I have gone back and forth in my (music) career because I missed the creative side so much, I love to create the music but I don't especially like to perform anymore because I am feeling my age and I don't want to be judged on that so I am shying away from live shows more, I miss it on some level but I don't like the stress of worrying about how many people will show, and if I will look like a middle aged Mom trying to be cooler than she is .who is my core audience now, bla bla bla.   I am going to write music, it's what I do and I don't know how to stop, I am going to sing my music MYSELF and not sell my songs to a more marketable female maybe pop/country crossover artist. I will play in churches and halls and bookstores and coffee shops, in living rooms whatever..but I won't care if I am marketable, I'm not and it doesn't matter because my greatest pleasure is my family, but I would be lying if I said I don't love the music.

Cliffs (a random poem I decided to post)

Cliffs

All bottled up like fine wine or genies, my words can't escape with the smoke from the thurible. My prayers in my throat, do not wander or float, they drop round my feet in a slow motion picture.

Passion escapes but has no direction, spiraling like demons to the house where the Godless live. Seeping through walls that were meant to keep secrets so no one would fear what they cannot believe in.

Stuck in the center of the body that keeps me, lay all of the promise that finally grew cold, like all good intentions that fall from the edges of cliffs with no fences and no hands to hold.

The pew is a hard wood no comfort for sinners, remind me I'm lowly, entwined in the splinters. Like Christ come to show me the thorns in his crown, I show him my movie, he cries at the end.

All bottled up like sand in a glass, I turn upside down and receive one more chance. Dizzy from spinning and gnawing my way, up for a breath and a glimpse of the day. Yet I glimpse nothing new, but the lines in my face my reflection is faint like a mist in this place so I see yet I don't and I can't resist so I turn to the glass and my own lips I kiss.

Tracey 2011

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger.

OK let's just do this.  I have not blogged in so very long because I knew this post was coming.  I can't tell my story without it, but having to face it, well.......not sure it's worth it but I will tell you before I finish, if I even do finish.
In 1981 I married at the age of 22.  I was madly in love with fellow punk rocker singer Tony of Trudee and the Trendsetters.  We met, we fell in love, we did a duet "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher and we were the it couple.  I didn't know at the age of 20 that love was all consuming, I was not sure that I liked it one bit and I am (quite frankly) still not sure.  At the age of 21 I had lost the battle and I gave in to this thing that people live forever to find, I was in love and I couldn't deny that and fortunately , for me, so was Tony.  We were young, blonde, rock star wannabe's having the time of our lives and it is something, someone, sometime that I can stuff away but never, truly forget, try as I might.  We moved in together in 1981, actually I moved into the house he shared with his brother and a couple of friends, on Lovers Lane in Akron. I must have been out of my mind in love because I moved from Bath to Lovers Lane and I was happier than I had ever been. I got a job at the Burger King on Arlington and I walked or took the bus so I must have been a little dazed and confused..but I did it and I only met wonderful people when I lived there, I liked my neighbors and the customers at Burger King, it was not what I had imagined in my little all white party girl world, it was new and exciting and I started to really care about the people I was meeting.  Lower class, middle class, upper class, it doesn't really mean anything, people are either good or bad, happy or sad, and it doesn't much matter after that does it? My neighbors in Bath would not have been one one hundredth as kind to me as my neighbors on Lovers Lane, and I was very unlikeable and out of place with my clothes and my hair and my attitude, but no one there cared...they decided if they liked me or they didn't and that was that.  I remember once while I lived there (there was a lot of petty theft) someone helped themself to my new bike, I saw it sitting outside of a grocery store down the road in "no man's land" on Arlington St.  I went in, threatened to beat the crap out of whomever took it if they gave me "one bit of shit" while I took it back and rode it home, I did, and no one followed me.  My guess was they were standing there in shock for at least a few minutes while this skinny white bitch walked in and told them all off threatening bodily harm to a room full of very large bikers and gang bangers.  That day I was not a member of either gang, I was just a stupid girl in love who wanted her damn bike back and I got it.  When I told Tony he was more than a little mad at my ignorance and I decided I probably got really lucky and he was absolutely right.  We married in 1981 when I was only 22 and Tony 25 but it seemed like the right thing to do.  We stayed on Lovers Lane for 5 years before moving to a little duplex his brother purchased in Ellet.  It was around that time that we decided to have a child together.   When I was 27 years old I realized what life was all about when I first held my son, my first child, Cory (named after Tony's favorite baseball God Cory Snyder, had it been my choice he was to be Oliver but no one wanted him to get the crap beat out of him in school so Cory it was).  I went through DAYS of labor, try as I might I could not have this child because of the size of my pelvis (who knew)?  Fortunately before they let me die, they did an emergency c-section and Tony was there through the whole thing.  He was so so good to me when I was sick or crazy and I was usually one or the other.  I remember my dad never left for 3 days, he just stayed there.  My Mother came and went and for her it was so awesome that she tried because she was so scared and nervous and for her that meant, not dealing with it (I get it).  After Cory was born my dad brought me the cutest damn thing I had ever seen, it was a satin football jacket with the official Chicago Bears logo (orange and blue) because Tony was such a die hard Bears fan.  It was Cory's first gift and it hangs in my bedroom closet today, it's about as big as my foot and I will never forget how cute he was in that thing and I will never forget that I knew my Father loved me, something I had never been sure of until I saw how scared he was that I wouldn't make it and how special his gift to us was, it was sentimental and meaningful and it spoke volumes.  Tony LOVED it and Cory wore it until he was probably 2.  There are things about my life as Mother that I did not understand, there were things I understood completely and one of them was this...a whole lot of changing had to happen or Tony and I would not make it, this child was to important and I suddenly was not willing to compromise his destiny to hold my marriage together.  When Cory was 2 it was over, I had to make a move so he would grow up with every possibility available to him.  Tony's depression was starting to take over, it was no longer a situation that was "sometimes" it was all consuming and his drinking worsened and his ability to function failed.  I tried every which way to fix and mend and cover it up and pretend but finally I needed to get myself together and make a life for my child.  If Cory hadn't come along I probably would have stayed so I feel in some odd way Cory came to save me and he did.  I will NOT ever disclose the specifics of the things we went through, Tony was not Tony by the time it all went down, he was a shell of the wonderful guy I met and married and I forgive him, I will not look back with blame because we both had to deal with each other's issues and my inmaturity had to be hard to deal with.  After we seperated Tony called me one night in a horrible state of mind and asked if I could please come stay with him, he was sick and he needed meds.  I went over but realized I couldn't handle the state he was in, he was so so down, sad and actually physically sick from trying to quit drinking and my heart broke.  I ran and got him a 12 pack because he begged me for it and I could not stand seeing him suffer like that.  I then called Mike (his brother) and I went home.  Being back there in that house, in that cycle was to much and I had to go.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was coming to a head and that my time with Tony, who had become one of my best friends at that point, was over.  It was not long before I got the call one morning from Mike, wonderful, long suffering, Mike...that Tony had killed himself.  For a matter of minutes, time did not exist, it just.......stopped, it came to a hault and there was no, past, present or future, it was all just......silence and everything went gray, my kitchen, on Smith Rd. where I was standing went gray, the phone was yellow, the cabinets were blue and white but for a few minutes, seconds, years...who knows, they were gray and there was no time.  (Gotta pause to get through this one brb)......
OK, I remember Mike saying "Tracey, Tony's dead, I'm sorry".  Then, I slowly (in my mind) began to fall to the ground, but it was all slow motion and I heard my Mother, who was standing there, saying "What is it"? "What's wrong are you OK"?  She was panicked and she sounded like she was talking from 2 houses away because my hearing was gone for the most part, replaced by this ringing sound that blocked out everything.  I was so aware of dropping, my legs just gave and I began to drop and it felt like it took so long to hit the ground, I heard the phone bounce off the floor and I heard my Mother pick it up and say "OH MY GOD NO" but again she sounded so far away.  The only thing that I knew at that minute, which was really more like an hour, was that I was not alive anymore, I had left the plain of existence we function on and entered a plain of existence that was not real, or not, here, it just wasn't anything and suddenly neither was I.  The only thing I remember after I hit the floor was taking the phone back and saying to Mike "What am I going to do now" and he simply said "I don't know Trace" and there my memory ends for a few moments, an hour, I'm not sure it's blank. I know when I came "out of it" there were people at the house, my sister and that's all I know but there were people there, Tony's sister in law and his Mother came and when I ran out to the driveway to hug Betty (his Mother) I collapsed.  Then the time came for me to tell Cory who was 4 years old.  All he said was "Do you mean MY Daddy, the one who brings me stuff"?  I said yes and he asked if he could go ride his bike and I said yes.  It's odd because it was December but it must have been warm enough for him to go ride because I just watched him go around in circles over and over and I was scared because he didn't cry or yell, he just got the news and went outside to ride his bike.  The realization would hit him a few months later in the heart of downtown Gatlinburg Tenn. on a street full of people, when we were on a little vacation, just the two of us.  Cory started laughing hysterically saying "My Daddy Died" to everyone around him and then he cried uncontrollably and I took him back to the hotel and went home the next day, it was a devestating thing to watch and I felt completely alone in the world, the only one there to piece him back together but I was so glad it finally hit and he got it out of his system, well I'm not sure that's a true statement but he finally released some of it.
One of the hardest things was Christmas at Tony's Mom's house.  Tony had planned and arranged everything including making it all right with the Catholic Church he so cherished and he even picked the dates of things to come, he was buried on our wedding anniversary and I couldn't even make it to the service because the black hole I was in had no ladder yet, I was trapped and could not get out, so I missed it.  I did make the calling hours, I remember Mark (Jendrisak) coming because I love him so much I remember he was there, he said he really didn't know what to say and I lost it, Bob and Ricky Ethington came, I remember that.  I also remember walking up to the casket and trying to talk to him, his Mom held me up and said it was all OK, she was trying to help  ME and she was strong as an ox, her pain was beyond comprehension and I love her so much I will be forever grateful for everything she was to me in this life and on that day.  But I digress.....Christmas Day, Tony had been buried Dec. 12 so this was pretty rough...we went to the Bandrowsky's for Christmas with Joe and Betty , his parents whom I adored and under the tree there were presents for Cory, from Tony, he had taken the time to make sure Cory was taken care of and my heart split into little tiny pieces, some of which I am not sure ever found there way back to the puzzle.  There was a note on them, saying that this was from "Daddy" and he was there, that sort of thing.  Betty brought in the suicide note for me to see, but I couldn't read it, I never could, I never did, I still haven't and I guess I never will but she did tell me that he came to her a few days before he followed through with the suicide and said that I was and would always be his great love, his best friend, so he died not hating me, though he could have hated me, he did for a while I know that, and it was nice to know he resolved that in his heart as I have resolved it in mine.  So that's that, enough, I did it.....I told it and now it goes back where it belongs, for a good long time because I can't do this again for a very very long time.  Who knows where it belongs actually, but it does not belong in my mind and thoughts all these years later, it's to much to hash through it...thanks for listening.  TT

Pervs a Plenty

Downstairs JB's in Kent in 1980 was quite the place to be if you were into the whole punk thing.  Bar was dirty, grafitti in the bathrooms, concrete steps down to the dungeon which was the club, fire escape overlooking the railroad tracks that could possibly collapse at any minute, sticky floors and the coolest people on the planet, every Thursday night when Unit 5 played.  There was basically just a lot of drinking and dancing, not much talking because it was far to loud to hear anyone speak.  I loved playing Thursday's at JB's.  Upstairs was (usually) The Numbers Band and I loved them, so I would get away from the punk drama downstairs and go up and watch them play, it was a different crowd entirely, different atmosphere entirely.  I actually really liked the "scene" upstairs more than down, but I was playing my part in the whole Punk movement so I never really fessed up about that. I got some flack from some people in the crowd for my clothes/hair etc.  Most everyone was really really nice but sometimes people were really mean to me just because I looked like a punk.  One time someone spit on me just because of the way I looked.  Punks were not 100 percent loved in Kent in the early 80's.  The guy that spit on me was actually the brother of the guy I was dating, he introduced me to his brother and he didn't say a word he just spit on my feet.  I became friendly with Mike Stacey from The Numbers Band, he was always so sweet and we would talk about music, have a beer and hang out.  To be part of the crowd at a Numbers Band show at JB's in 1980 was incredibly cool.  I think we all knew we were seeing something special that we were lucky to have in this area. I still really love to see them and it's 30 years later.  I got into a confrontation (again) with some guy who hated the downstairs punks and told me I should go back down, then we argued about music and how the stage downstairs was lit, how loud it was, how bad it was, he went on and on and on.  Finally Mark came and got me before the guy hit me and we went back down and played our gig.  The same night, some guy was thrown out for sketching photos of me while I was on stage, no big deal except in his renderings I was completely naked, I wasn't a fan of his artwork so out he went.  So typical Thursday at JB's down KENT 1980, I would do it again in a second.

The Akron Sound Bands Official Athletic Association!

OK we were punks, but we were also ATHLETES BABY!  Someone decided to start a Sunday softball game, playing at Akron U, every week, just for fun.  The teams would be made up of all the people in the bands.  We HAD to look like freaks, of all the things we did in the day, this is what I wish I had filmed.  Brothers of band members played, girlfriends, whatever it was so fun.  I think Mikey from Hammer Damage started the whole thing.  There were members of (some of the entire bands were there actually most everyone came) Hammer Damage  The Action  Chi Pig  Unit 5  The F Models  Trudee and the Trendsetters and more.  I think Johnny Teagle played (brother of Augy from U5 and a musician himself he was one of the Walking Clampetts).  We split into 2 teams every week and played softball.  It was very apparent that I was going to be the last one picked most of the time, especially after the first week when I showed my softball skills.  I remember Mike Hammer got mad at me because I was in the outfield and the ball was coming at me and I held my hand up, but then it looked so "close" and like it could kill me so I ducked.  Mike didn't pick me again.  Tony was fantastic, Tony had been a high school athlete and actually was scouted by The Pitsburgh Pirates or someone, he could pitch left or right handed and I guess that was a big deal.  I remember he told me he was so nervous about the try out for the team he drank to much and blew the whole gig, but he was great at the Sunday games!  Tony was also a golden gloves boxer, he had so much potential to do SO MUCH with his talents but I think he just never believed he was good enough.  Well, I digress but he was fun to watch on a baseball field.  Some of us were really serious, some of us were joking the whole time which made the more competitive sportsy punks mad.  BUT there we were...Akron U.  softball field right on Exchange St.  Spandex, cut offs, tight t shirts, spikey hair, striped tights, dog collars, tattoos, cigarettes and beers, playing some "ball" on Sunday,  some of us hadn't even been to bed yet, some of us nursing hang overs, some of us......loving every single minute of our youth. One week we played touch football at the school next to my house on Smith Road.  My Mom was incredible, she was lovely and gracious and funny and crude and all the bands filed in and hugged her and some even asked her to play football, then we all walked over to the school (GOD what my neighbors must have thought..probably seemed like Armaggedon or something) and played touch football and guess what?? I was really good at that!  I remember Iggy and I were suprisingly "not bad" and we were pretty much the last to get picked for every team but it was so fun. Iggy was in The F Models, he was the skinniest, rock star looking guy ever and he wore his guitar so low when he played I thought he was just groovy, he ended up dying way young, and I miss his face.  So here we are walking from my house in Bath Twp. over to Herberich Elementary to play some touch football.  Again, spandex, metal belts, short cropped t shirts, safety pins, Beatle Boots, spiked hair, shaved heads, blue haired heads, tall skinny lanky looking freaks and geeks with cigarettes and beers and football, on Sunday morning.  Those were the days my friend, I thought they'd never end, we'd sing and dance forever and a day, we lived the life we choose, we'd fight and never lose, those were the days oh yes those were the days.... 

Hanging on the Roof With My Friends

One night that I retained for whatever reason was so fun and such a good memory for me that I thought I would share it even though it's not spectacular in anyway, it's just a night like any other but not.  Tony and I were a couple at this point, not married but dating.  We were good friends with his bass player Bob and his girlfriend Patty who was the lead singer of The Waitresses.  We were at someone's apartment in Highland Square hanging out on a roof patio, having drinks, talking, watching the sun go down.  I remember walking to Mary Coyle's in Highland Square with Patti, we just walked around and talked and went in to get cokes and I heard people at a table laughing.  Then I heard someone say "WHO would wear that"?  Well, it was me, I wore that.  It was a man shirt with matching baggy long shorts, the fabric was brightly colored comic strip design and it was OBNOXIOUS, and I loved it.  When I turned around to (more than likely) let the people laughing know how much I didn't give a shit, it turned out to be the guy I dated in high school and his Mom.  When he realized it was me, he laughed even harder and said "I should have known".  We had a nice little reunion, I forgave him (not her she was a witch) for laughing at my clothes and I left.  I remember Patty saying "What are the odds" really?  It was strange, I hadn't seen him in probably 4 years. For some reason watching the sun go down on that roof, with those friends, knowing we were all enjoying successful runs as musicians, up and coming bands, it felt like we owned the world.  Patty was moving to New York and I envied her so much. I was even jealous when I saw her apartment there for the first time with the bathtub in the kitchen for 1,000.00 a month in the 80's.  Life was good, it was special that night.  I had no idea in the blink of an eye, Patty would be a cancer casualty and Tony would be the victim of a suicide. Who knew, that night, watching the sun go down on the roof that Bob and I would be old without them and we wouldn't even know each other anymore.  I'm sure we share some inner demons and I wonder if he remembers the night on the roof, Highland Square, Akron Ohio, in the time of our greatness....
THIS IS THE LIFE THEY SAY THAT
DREAMS ARE MADE OF
DON'T FORGET
PLEASE DO FORGIVE ME
I STILL HAVE SOMETHING YOU DID GIVE ME
COME INTO MY DREAM WITH ME AND DREAM
PLEASE DON'T FORGET
DO FORGIVE ME
I STILL HAVE SOMETHING YOU DID GIVE ME
COME INTO MY DREAM WITH ME AND DREAM
OH DREAM OF PARADISE....Birds Of Paradise, The Pretenders.

New York New York

I ALWAYS thought I would end up living in Manhattan, I held that dream until WAY into my 30's but different paths, different dramas played out and here I am in my hobbit hole in Hudson Ohio (which is fine by the way I love this town).  Unit 5 made a few trips to New York to play, it was always so exciting and fun, we were lucky enough to get booked into the best clubs of "the day" my favorite was Danceteria by far.  I believe we played there 2 times, one trip we went up with Hammer Damage and another time Ralph Carney's band opened the show, I remember they sat on the stage and played odd objects, pots and pans and that sort of thing.  Ralph was always and still is the most creative guy on the planet.  When all is said and done, I am not someone who likes the middle area of anything, I like extremes.  I like hot or cold, dark or light, absolute remoteness in my living arena or extreme activity in my living arena.  If I had to diagnose myself with something I would say I am definitely bi-polar, no middle ground, I swing wildly like a pendulum during an earthquake.  Can't be easy on my family and I have fought this tendency for decades, I like to think when it comes to being a wife and mother, I keep it under control to the best of my ability, I fail sometimes but who doesn't?  So me and New York...great fit, the ability to walk out the front door and be somewhere, without even the thought of needing a car, the shopping, the lights, the shows, it was, it is the perfect environment to keep me "calm" believe it or not, New York (I love Chicago as well) keeps me calm! Put me in the heart of the suburbs, in a typical neighborhood environment and I am miserable. I am fortunate enough to live on a very empty street, with a lot of beautiful land and deer and trees, I love that too.  If it were up to me I would spend time moving back and forth between city and country, but there is the money thing and I was not destined to be that free wheelin.  So Unit 5...New York City, fantastic memories.  One time we split up because Mike, Mark and I wanted to go eat at Mama Leoni's and Bob and Augy wanted to go to the art gallery.  At the time I was a Steve Martin fanatic, I loved him, he made me laugh and that has always been the key to winning me over, he was my favorite.  So, while I was having an INCREDIBLE authentic Italian meal, Bob and Augy were touring the art museum with Steve Martin who was behind them the entire time.  GOD!  The things I have given up for food.  Another time, Mark and I were walking through the Village and a reporter from The NY Times Magazine, came up and ask if they could photograph me for the fashion section so there I am on the street in NY having my photo taken because I was an example of the up and coming clothes thang!  Ironic because before the trip I thought everything I had was to "Akron" middle class so my aunt bought me this incredible red and white sailor suit with a mini skirt and there you have it, me in the Times Magazine fashion section as a trendsetter.  I loved Gramercy Park, I loved the theater district, everything about it makes me feel at home.  I actually felt a connection with the city as if I had "come back" to something I knew, it's really odd.  The first time I ever saw the buildings in the distance when we were driving in, I started to cry like a homesick person finally coming back.  I can't explain how it makes me feel to be there, but I haven't been in a long time, I miss it so much and I would LOVE to take my kids there, it would be like showing them who I am, who I really am and not the cookie baking Hudson Mom they have come to know, money is a tricky thing, it controls who we are, who we can be and what we appear to be to others.  Because of money, I appear to be the exact opposite of my true self.  I hope someday I can go back and get to know me again....These little town blues, are melting away, I'll make a brand new start of it, in old New York.If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere, it's up to you, New York New York

Stiv Bators Birthday Present

Unit 5 played with The Dead Boys a few times when they were in town, I got a lot of crap for that, from Tony, who thought we were to pop and didn't deserve the shows.  It made me feel really bad, because I disagreed completely and we butted heads about that before we were even in a relationship, he always let his opinion fly.  The Dead Boys were certified rock stars at that point, it was as if, when someone said either The Sex Pistols or The Dead Boys they had to say them both. Here's an example of how "hand in hand" they were.  "I like punk, I'm really into THE SEX PISTOLS they are my favorite.....and THE DEAD BOYS.  That's an example I made up, just to show you how popular The Dead Boys were, they were like The Sex Pistols, see what I mean...I did it again.  So Stiv was from Youngstown, we had some mutual friends and I met him through the inner circle.  For some reason he liked me, a lot, we talked, he let down his "I am a severely demented rock star" persona a few times over the years I knew him and I was fond of his more mellow regular guy personality and he did have that side to him, but he was also a wild man in the clubs and on stage.  One night at JB's Down in Kent, a few of us were out to see a band, I can't even remember who it was but we stayed until closing.  Stiv and I were just hanging out in the bar as the lights went up and he was being Stiv the rock star not Stiv, from Youngstown.  Last call had since passed and he was piss drunk and wanted another drink but they wouldn't serve him, understandably it was after hours at that point.  So in true punk rock fashion, I watched him go around to all the tables that had not been cleaned up and drink the beer residue from all the glasses and bottles left, even the ones with cigarette butts and ashes, then called me something vulgar but hilarious actually because I was sure I was going to throw up.  I won't forget that, he was absolutely hardcore and he was not faking it, Stiv was the ultimate punk and he had a vibe that could only be described as the "It" factor, he wasn't pretty, he was cool as hell though and anyone who knew him would probably agree.   So months later the Dead Boys come back through and played the bank.  It was Stiv's birthday or it was close to Stiv's birthday and the band was definitely celebrating. Stiv had gotten me a job singing with an all girl band "The B Girls" in Toronto (if I wanted it).  He had really gone to bat for me and pulled some strings, he was a friend of Debbie Harry's and she was using The B Girls on her AutoAmerican album that was being recorded at the time.  I was to move to Toronto and join the band and work with (ironically) enough Blondie, who was also using The B Girls as her opener on an upcoming tour.    I remember he gave me the B Girls 45 to see what I thought of them and they were very cool.  I felt like that would have been my fork in the road, had there been one, that was it.  That night at The Bank was so fun, I had not made the decision to say NO to The B GIRLS (But I would eventually come to that decision) so all was well and everyone was having fun.  At one point the band yelled from the back of the club, for Stiv to come get his present and he walked towards the back and just as he did, the band (The Dead Boys) surrounded me, picked up and made a circle around Stiv and I and presented me as his Birthday present, I guess it was "just what he wanted" and I was actually more than a little frightened, I had seen these guys in action and I knew there were no limits to the depravity they sought.  So I guess I was the present, only...no one asked me.  Turned out we danced, he couldn't have been sweeter.  I am not sure if this was the night that his girlfriend at the time, BeBe Buell ( mother of Liv Tyler) was there, but she was there one night and very unhappy with my presence and very unhappy about being in a dive bar in Akron. I remember Tony was so excited to meet her, she was absolutely gorgeous I must say.  But the Stiv days were fun, he was fun, he was RUDE and wild and obviously full of something that drew people in, great performer and front man, I really liked him but I was always aware of the scary stuff.  I said no to The B Girls, I couldn't leave Unit 5 at the time, I had to see where it was going with "my band" and I loved those guys like brothers and I still do 30 odd years later, so that made it worth it, I still have my "guys" in my life, Mark a lot, Bob, enough (HA) and if I ever needed to talk to Augy or Mike, they are there.  I am not sure I could say that had I screwed everyone over to go to Toronto, I made the right choice and I don't wonder "what if" anymore because if you think about it, how many of you have heard of The B Girls anyway?  So it is what it is, Stiv has long since passed away after being struck by a car in Paris.  He got up and walked out of the hospital (or so that's what I was told) in true Stiv fashion, without even knowing his injuries would do him in within hours, rock star until the end...Living to fast I've got my head in full throttle I saw a screaming skull in the bottom of a bottle. Can't stand up, honey, got my tongue on the floor
Living out a dream 'bout the third world war

I Now Have A Stylist! Unit 5 Takes On The Akron Civic Theater

OFF WITH HER HAIR!  Some wonderfully flamboyant guy named Jeff but I believe it was Geoff, the cool way like Chuck and Mary Auerbach's Geoff, not Jeff.  I feel really bad I can no longer remember his last name we had fun "changing me up" now and again but there were a lot of people running around messing with stuff back then.  He approached me after a show and said he would love to be my stylist and would I come to his salon and talk with him.  GORGEOUS SALON!  I remember I said yes because I was tired of being Debbie Harry the sequel and it was in Bath which was right down the road from my house so I went to talk with him.  He gave me wine at the door and we looked at photos and he told me his ideas and I felt like he knew what I needed so I got my makeover, new make up (he thought the putting on of the mascara then rubbing my eyes to make it smear was a little harsh) new hair and I LOVED IT!  I had short, pixie, boy hair and softer eyes and lips and I felt really wonderful about it all. We picked out a purple spandex jump suit with big MC Hammer legs at the top and narrow at the bottom (Can't touch this)!  It had a red belt and I got red flats to go with it, I felt all "new" and so not like anyone else, he dyed my signature blonde hair back to it's natural state of bla dark blonde and highlighted it and it looked more like hair and not at all like cotton candy which took some getting used to.  Like the mascara rub, I liked the cotton candy hair.  I was to present my new "THANG" at The Akron Civic Theater for our biggest show ever (venue size, seats), with Hammer Damage (If I am wrong here feel free to tell me but I think it was Hammer Damage).  Unit 5 had yet to recieve any bad press or reviews, we were kind of lucky when it came to winning over the critics, they seemed to like our offbeat way of presenting.  My new look was a huge success, band loved it, fans loved it, I loved it, my Mother was thrilled because she did not like the mascara rub much.  But THE CRITIC FROM THE F*&^)*ING AKRON BUCHTELITE DIDN'T LIKE IT!  The Akron Buchtelite, Akron University paper ( I think that was the name) I saved the article for all these years because it was so NASTY I wanted to show it to my kids but I haven't yet, I should do that tonight while everyone is home...fun!  I am digressing again (is that a word)?  So here are, for your blog reading entertainment, some excerpts from the first and one of the few (THANK YOU) bad or less than kind reviews of Unit 5.
"Unit 5 is to bizarre for the bizarre, lead singer Tracey Thomas came out with chip chopped hair, wearing purple spandex".  It went on to say a few more unflattering things about MY NEW MAKEOVER and then to top it off, after all that referred to me as a "Debbie Harry" clone. I wasn't even blonde now,  I was 20, she was like...90!  I found out later that the writer from the paper (who I guess was actually really nice we never met but I heard things) recieved (way before email people this was 1980ish) a bunch of boo hiss letters from Unit 5 fans who liked my new look.  It was apparent also at this time that if you lived in Akron you better be ready for the backlash if you compare Tracey to Debbie Harry.  And here's the best part of it all, looking back...I WAS SO DEBBIE HARRY!  I had that whole thing wrong, I should have embraced and enjoyed it, so much of my life is now me saying things like "If I had only done this" or "that" or bla bla bla.  Debbie Harry was the shit!  WHAT just kept me fighting and fighting against enemies of my own making?  Why was I so difficult?  What would have become of Unit 5 if I hadn't been........me?  ELECTRIC FACES SEEM TO MERGE, HIDDEN VOICES, MOCK YOUR WORDS, FADE AWAY AND RADIATE, FADE AWAY AND RADIATE.

Jane Scott Wants An Interview With Tracey

So if you lived in Cleveland/NE Ohio for any amount of time in the last 5 decades you know who infamous rock writer Jane Scott is, probably, high probability of that, that you know who she is.
U5 has been signed to Clone Records (thanks Nick Nicholas) and before the LP comes out there is much todo about it all, that's just part of the routine.  Getting even a blur from Jane Scott was something all artists, national, and local hoped for.  Dave Whitt informed me that she wanted to interview me (specifically) when we were doing a press day in Cleveland.  We met at Pirate's Cove I believe it was but someplace of that calibur, daytime before club opens kind of setting.  I was very nervous to meet her and very anxious NOT to come across as a dumb blonde singer having her 15 min. I was not accustomed to going it without the guys so I believe they were in the club when I sat down on the stage with Jane Scott, just the two of us talking about stuff.  I was ready to impress her with all my deepness and uniqueness, I was ready to break free of the endless comparison to Debbie Harry, not because she wasn't wonderful, but because I wanted to be more uniquer than that (I know that was wrong but it worked didn't it)?  1 min. into the interview/conversation she took out her pencil and legal pad and started bombarding me with questions about my likeness to Debbie Harry.  "Did she inspire your sound"? "Did she inspire your look"? No, No, Not really, I think she's swell and all, I actually do have a Blondie LP, the first one, with Rip Her To Shreds, yes, great song, finally she just said "Can you really ignore the similarities here"?  I said most enthusiastically YES, YES I CAN!  I discovered Debbie Harry when Heart Of Glass came out, yes I knew who she was and what she looked like.  For the most part, her music was just OK for me, not really inspirational enough to model my career after.  I thought she was lovely and I liked her look, but I wasn't seeing it as "I want to copy that".  I was definitely going for the Marilyn Monroe vibe, I did the retro look when I wasn't on stage, cropped pants, button down blouses, flats, Marilyn and Audrey Hepburn were my style influences but she wouldn't believe me, she just kept saying it was "uncanny" and Cleveland's own Debbie Harry but I wasn't even from Cleveland I was from Akron...West Side, Case Elementary, Swensons, Hardesty Park, the little metal elephant slide, Forest Lodge ice skating, Stan Hywett flowers in the spring and The Indian statue outside of what used to be the elementary school, by Bissons Grocery, where the hell did Bissons go anyway?
Oh well, it's water under the proverbial bridge now (was that a proverb)?  The Cleveland Plain Dealer article was short and sweet, compared me to Debbie Harry, every which way but loose, said some nice things, I was honored to have the attention and press but I just did not feel like anyone was getting it, me...at all.  OFF WITH HER HAIR!

St. Vincent gets petition to bring Unit 5 in for concert. Amazing Grace Indeed

There are many things I am not proud of, I am not proud of many things, this is one of those "things" that I am sharing.  I wish that I could do it differently but alas, it is what it is.
So these "kids" decided to start a petition for Unit 5 to play at St. Vincent St. Mary in Akron, or as it is now known "The High School LeBron James Attended".  Somehow they pulled it off and we were going to do our first high school thing.  I think the Giffel boys were somehow behind this if I remember correctly, but you would probably have to be an Akron scenester to know the Giffels, David is now a published and incredibly swell author outside of our Akron bubble so I am certain many of you know David Giffels.  Well please keep in mind (especially my children who may read this someday) I grew up playing music in bars, or at least it seemed like it, I had an attitude and a "style" that was very appropriate for the day, the time the movement, whatever.  In my (18/19ish) teenager brain it did not register, actually not even a little bit, that playing a high school might call for a different attitude, or decorum.  It was a gig, I was gonna do what I do, when I do and who I do it to and that was auto pilot for me. My (extremely) Catholic daughter is not going to appreciate this one at all.  Well the students were really happy, we were flattered that they picked us and worked so hard to get it all approved.  The Unit 5ers were after all, the Osmonds of the punk movement, we were basically really nice, not to drunk or drugged, for the most part, some of the time, and having us play a Catholic school was pretty safe.  Why my mouth did not get us permanantly banned from ever entering another high school, I will never know actually, but my clothing choice definitely got us thrown out.  If you know me now, you know that I am a perfect example of how much the human body will grow and expand if you let it and you will also know, if you knew me then and now (lucky) that my weight issues have plagued me forever.  I have struggled with an eating disorder, of one kind or another most of my existence, beginning at age 14 when I prefered to be exremely skinny.  My weight issues were always of the "don't lose to much more" "are you sick you look to thin" kind.  It is only the last decade of my life that really has seen me keep to much weight on my body, and ironically it is because my eating disorder has changed it's mind and made me fatter than I want to be, which is funny only to me and my dead Mother, maybe my Sister if she remembers all I went through in fear of gaining a pound or GOD FORBID two pounds.  Mark probably remembers God knows he heard me blab about it enough, not unlike I am now doing. Tony would remember, Scott didn't know how bad I was before he was in my life and I was way better by the time he came along but he still thought I was obsessed.  Anyway, at that point it was very important to me to look very thin and not unhealthy exactly, but very tired was good, it fit the vibe.  I used to think some of the guys in the band looked so cool with dark circles under their eyes, there was a time when I rubbed my mascara so it would smudge underneath because it was a good look in my mind, and well, on my face, I like a lot of things that no one understands.  So because I was so "svelte" I was able to make some clothing choices that were extreme and daring and of my own design.  I liked to shock people, I wasn't slutty, I was just "odd".  For this show at St. V (Catholic High School) I decided I would simply wear a leotard with some ripped up tights and a shirt that was slit all over, color theme, green to show school spirit...duh (Charlie Sheen again).  So my school spirit and I, and my band, showed up at the door and we could hear the kids saying "THE BAND IS HERE, THEY ARE HERE, WE CAN SEE THEM" it was so funny, they were really excited and we wanted to go in and meet everyone, the lights were still up a bit and we were waving at everyone.  Having heard the commotion at the door one of the Nuns came to greet us and when she saw me she gasped.  I of course thought it was my stunning beauty, the contrast of my white skin and my dark lips, eyeliner, smudged mascara, and of course, my incredible outfit that overwhelmed her, I mean, come on...I was a rock star she was a nun, probably hadn't been exposed to the greatness of people like me, much in her life, so I gave her a moment, let her get collected before I hit her with my mega watt big white tooth smile (that years of habitual ice chewing have robbed me of at this point so karma chameleon baby)...everyone said I smiled like Marilyn Monroe so I used it in excess, when I wanted to get my way, I worked the smile or the pouty face, GOD I WOULD HAVE HATED ME if I had known me, but I just recently met me.  Well, the smile didn't work, she got over me like lightning, not only was she "over me" she was all up on me and shit (see what I did there).  "YOU CAN'T COME IN HERE WITHOUT PANTS ON"  "WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS" " ANYONE ELSE IN THIS BAND COME WITHOUT PANTS ON".  You leave here until you find some pants and then try again....she pushed me out the door to find pants in downtown Akron at dusk, on a day when I was supposed to be the center of attention, playing for my fans and being adored.  Instead I was out the door, on my arse (almost literally) looking for my pride and my pants.  Well, fashion statement LOST ON HER, the band freaked and of course, Mark and Mike left with me and we ended up going to Mike's car and I put on his work pants from Skyway and pulled them with a tie so as not to loose them and show my ass which obviously was what I was not supposed to do at a High School (who knew)?
I headed back to the door with my bros, my guys, my family, my friends and I tried SO SO SO hard not to say anything, they asked me not to say anything to just let it go so we could play the show. I knew that was the best choice, of course, but once my feelings were "ruffled" for whatever reason, by whomever, I was in defense mode and hard to "turn off" I would have been a tremendous asset had there been a war on US soil back in the day, just make me sad, and off I run taking down everything in my path, including...it would now appear "Wives of Jesus" himself.  I didn't know I was going to spew until I got to the door and saw the evil God Goddess again, the one who shamed me, in front of my people.  Well, I like very much to come out on top in a battle of words and such and so I couldn't help myself.  I did not yell, I was actually kind of classy, more like a whisper when I looked her in the eye and said "You really need to get laid".  It was over in a second, I don't know if she feared me or she ignored it, or if she thought it may be the truth, but I was in and I played my show, and I got my last word and I was the rockingest, bitchiest, you can't touch me rock star girl Akron had ever seen, and I have felt bad about it since the moment it left my mouth 30 some odd years ago....AMAZING GRACE HOW SWEET THE SOUND THAT SAVED A WRETCH LIKE ME...I ONCE WAS LOST BUT NOW AM FOUND, WAS BLIND BUT NOW I SEE.

Tin Huey Unit 5 The Bank...Didn't See This Coming.

So we are completely thrilled that we were chosen to open for Tin Huey when they came home to play The Bank in Akron.  This was one of those...take you to another level gigs, earning more respect and attention which we were after, at that point. There was a lot of buzz about Tin Huey coming home and playing The Bank, a lot of local bands wanted the show and we got it, that caused (and this was rare) a few ruffled feathers among the bands who thought we were to pop oriented, not artsy enough, to open for Tin Huey. Valid argument actually, we were, for the most part a pop band.  Having said that, you can't put Bob Ethington and Mark Jendrisak in a band, as the rythmn section, and not have a unique, busy, art influence so I felt they were not getting there due.  Me...I was pop influenced I admitted it, but it was being thrown around that I had nothing more to offer than a pleasant enough voice and a size 5 butt and some frizzy blonde hair. The general consensus was that I was up there, having fun, being a diva, soaking in the attention, riding the coat tails of the "real" musicians I was lucky enough to be working with. We had only very recently become Unit 5, a lot of these people that would be seeing us, were Tin Huey fans, this was going to be hit or miss and I (personally) had a LOT to prove, and I was feeling it.  I lost so much weight and sleep over this, I felt it was the most important thing I would do in my career (you can't underestimate the popularity of Tin Huey in the late 70's early 80's in NE Ohio). So whatever....we were playing the show and I would prove that I was more deserving (we) were more deserving than anticipated...or I wouldn't and that wasn't an option but it was an option I was just trying to be confident right there.
We got to the club a couple hours before showtime, like always we got drinks, played some Space Invaders I had the high score on the machine most of the time, Dave Whitt our manager, and I, back and forth, waiting for rehearsal or a show, playing Space Invaders. I knew how to kick the machine in a way that it would let me play for free, I don't even remember why we knew that but after I got a drink, I would walk up to the machine, kick it and we played, me and Dave (he could shake it and make it play but let's face it, punk chick walking up and kicking the machine with a beer in her hand......way cooler).  We went downstairs to the dressing room area set up for some of the bands that played there, not everyone had access but we did, it was such an ego stroking thing to have a dressing room, but WOW it was scary, dark steps, stone walls, concrete floor, cold, sad awful, but HEY!  We could throw around things like.."I'll be in my dressing room" and it was fun.  I had to change with the guys, it was actually only one room, that's it, but I got used to it, I learned to arrive almost put together to avoid awkwardness and nudity around my mates.  While we were downstairs people were coming down to tell us the club was really filling up, then it was...wow it's really filling up...then...wow it's jammed...then...we are going to have to clear a path for you guys to get to the stage.  It was insane!  I could hear the rumbling upstairs and it definitely sounded like a full house. We got word that Tin Huey had arrived, we had met them before but I believe this was the first shared bill.  I would end up staying in touch with them, I still talk to Harvey Gold often. Whenever they play locally (Not as Tin Huey since the passing of Mark Price)  I make a point of going to the show, I always loved that band and they are still amazing life, Ralph is always fun, Mike, Stuart and now Bob Ethington is actually part of that band, who knew? Mark Price is so missed, he recorded Unit 5's first demo's at his studio, we really got to know him and enjoy his company, sadly he passed away at the age of 56...But I digress (again).
 So it's time, the lights are dimmed, we get our call to go up and at this point, I think even Bob is nervous, I know Augie later confessed he thought he was going to puke.   We chose matching police shirts for this show, ties, gray uniform shirts just for fun.  We entered the club at the top of the dressing room stairs in the back, when I saw the people I freaked out!  They were everywhere, the floor was capacity, they were in the balcony, up to the stage, I had never seen it like this, how many hundreds of people must have been there and where was the fire marshall this was WAY over limit, I think I let out an audible gasp when I saw it.  As we made our way to the stage the crowd began to cheer and scream and it was pretty flattering, and very hard on my anxiety ridden psyche.  By the time we made it to the stage it was loud and I don't think any of us, expected it or knew how to respond.  Augy said thank you I definitely remember that, Mark probably nodded at everyone, Bob probably giggled repeatedly and I probably turned my back to look at Bob (like I always did) and make some dumb face.  But we had arrived, Unit 5 was on the Akron map, and believe it or not in the late 70's early 80's  that was pretty damn cool....NEVER MIND WHAT YOU MIND KEEP YOUR MIND ON THE WORK.