First of all, thanks to everyone who came out on Hurricane Tuesday. I’m not really sure what it is about our rock shows that calls down the rain, but I want you all to know that the Jane and Scott Show does it’s part to mitigate the drought. Which, BTW, contrary to this retarded headline, is NOT over. I know we’re all grateful for the rain, but the fact is that our whole region is using a lot more water than nature provides, and it isn’t going to end any time soon.
Public service announcement. You’re Welcome.
Anyway – what I really wanted to talk about in this blog is the place that I grew up. It’s a small town – ten thousandish? (back me up, here Benders) Four hours away from the nearest city, but only ten minutes from the Pacific Ocean. Our neighborhood was right up the hill from the Coos Bay, and while I was growing up, it was teaming with young families. I had two best friends, a boy across the street named Ryan, and a girl across the back yard named Kathleen. Ryan is the first person I remember learning King Arthur stories from. We’d have extended quarter staff battles with broom handles, and raid his sisters awesome dress-up box for appropriately warrior like attire. I don’t remember my characters, but I do remember that he always got to be Lancelot.
Kathleen had a kick ass Barbie Collection. (my mom was reticent with the girlie toys – looking back I imagine it had something to do with promoting gender equality/not forcing gender roles, but at the time I found it very frustrating.) She also had one of those horses on the springs you could ride, a swingset, and a little sister who spent a lot of time ordering my baby brothers around. Even before they could talk, really. Kathleen and I played princess games, in which she got to be princess most of the time, because she had better hair for it. We used to bully my little brothers into being princes for us. (My King Arthur games with Ryan did not broaden my mind sufficiently to make me kiss the sleeping princess, and Ryan always managed to be absent for the princess stuff.) Hank got wise to the whole thing pretty quickly, but Duke used to be fairly amiable about the whole thing. Amiable enough that he was allowed into the tree house and given an honorary title, at any rate.
Divorces and Jobs did what they do, and our little cabal was definitively disbanded by the time we were eight, I think. Now we come to the reason I told you all of this. Of the characters mentioned above, Ryan, Michelle, Duke and myself are all fronting relatively successful local rock bands. Really. I don’t know if it’s from growing up with the smell of mud-flats, or what, but check out these links:
The Jane and Scott Show (oh, wait. . .you’re already here. Good for you!)
And then go find a producer for a When Simpson Heights Rocked the Water Tour.
