Found out on Tuesday that my own life-saving in-sane asylum will be packing it up and moving on come the end of January, 2011. To be in-sane, as the The Last Hippie in America, the stand--up comic Jimmie Wiggins long ago told me, is to stand inside the circle of sanity.
I've spent hours at Rainbow Records here in town; hours spent venting, hours spent learning, hours spent talking and sharing with store-owner John Thominet, who coached my son, Adam James his first year in the major-minors little league system here.
At the store now, the Tuesday regulars always talk Chicago Bears football. They're all passionate about it. Me, I don't really get worked up about any sports any more. The grandest sports season of all for me was 1992, when I whiled the summer away watching Adam James play baseball for John; playing catch with him between innings of the games, practice pitching (badly) to him in the back yard.
Here's a Kodak moment from that 1992 season: I'm pitching to my 3' 10" son when out of the blue, I lose all control One pitch goes over his head. He blinks in shocked disbelief. The next pitch goes behind his back. Deliberately sets down the bat, turns to me, and says "nice" making an okay signal with his right hand, "pitch" making another okay signal with his left hand, his eyes opening wider in sarcastic sardonism. A greater put down than this, no man hath known. Yeah verily, in that moment, I fully understood, that my boy would grow to be a man; able to dish it out with delicious irony and wit, free form put down, stand-up improv, the kind of thing that guys just do -- fully cognizant on a gut level of all the not-so-nuanced subtleties that say, "Hey bozo, you messed up. Get some competence. Throw the damn ball across the plate already." But, unlike the father, the son can do it in two words, plus visuals. Hot damn! A succinct one.
But back to the record store. Corporate takeover. The wine store next door wanted to expand their operations, and knocking down the wall between the two businesses was their choice. The mall owner, seeing bigger bucks, offered to let John relocate down to what had formerly been the animal grooming shop. Jeez, Lew-eez! As if John was born a rube? No way, so John made a counter offer, and they compromised. John got an lease extension to the end of January, so the store will be in full operation for Christmas holidays. After that, John's going out to New Jersey, to be with his wife Jennifer.
I cannot begin to tell how much I will miss this man, who has put up with my nonsense, called me on my nonsense, endorsed me in some of my nonsense, and has never judged me, except to say, "I'm glad I don't have to carry that load that you've got on your shoulder."
His store is one of those treasures, a neighborhood enterprise that people of a certain persuasion find, and just keep coming back to, to linger, to listen, to browse, to be, to just kick it back, knowing that they are respected because they are part of that insane community of humanity that has compassion, that renders caring, kindness, snark and sarcasm, as the situation dictates -- he said Come on Come in I'll give you shelter from the storm.
I will miss you John. But I will always carry in my heart as treasure the hours you gave to me of your time, your honesty, your integrity, you.
I love you John. Thanks for all of it. Here's my prayer:
Oh Lord, please grant
That there be Karma on this earth
So that the good that Your good ones do
Shall feed them in their hour of hunger
Shall shelter them from the storms
Shall bind them safely unto their own
That they always know their own,
And their own shall know thee.
