Words from Ken
Every November for the last few years, my wife and I have participated in a Memorial Day service for Chicago veterans. It's a very simple affair with a couple of songs, several readings and some quiet words of encouragement for the men and women who served in our Armed Forces and their families.

For my money, the star of the show every time is the veterans themselves. Each year, however, their steps get a little slower, their handshakes a little less firm. But they all still have that je ne sais crois. Perhaps it's just nostalgic poetry on my part. Maybe I've fallen for the media hype of Tom Hanks' D-Day movie and Tom Brokaw's book. Or perhaps I've finally grasped the value and importance of my parents' generation. Our new neighborhood is a veritable paradise. The lawns are trimmed. The houses are simple and clean. And our neighbors are of the age to have served hard time at the 38th Parallel, Saigon and Anzio. Our community is filled with straight-up, hard working, no baloney citizens who shovel each other's sidewalks when it snows, keep an eye on each other's houses and wave to me when I drive by.

When I first came to Chicago, the Hi Fi guys took a liking to me and let me hang around with them a little bit. I can never forget a night at Fitzgerald's when the show was over and a small crew of anvilheads was standing on the corner telling stories because they just weren't ready to leave. A stranger nearby had a flat tire and no jack. I have never seen five guys jump in faster and lift a car by hand so the situation could be remedied.

Perhaps I am alone on this one but I don't think I am. If you're going to spend your life tramping around in fifty year-old clothes, driving some of Detroit's finest and listening to records made before the invention of music, you have to assume the better part of that era's moral code as well. That doesn't necessarily mean spending your nights and week-ends in church(unless your church happens to feature a honky-tonk hardwood floor and a very generous bartender). My mother always said you can stay up as late as you want as long as you get your chores done tomorrow. And when you're doing those chores, you work hard. If the Big Boss Man needs forty hours a week, you give him forty-three with a big smile. You vote responsibly in every election. You pick up litter when you see it. You keep your shoulder to the wheel and your nose clean. You greet everyone with a smile. And you have as much fun as you can without ruining someone else's good time.

I am proud to be a part of the rockabilly community (loathe as I am to use such a formal term when all I mean is "an ever widening circle of friends"). I am also proud to be a part of my geographical community. And I will attempt to live my life with the dignity and sense of purpose that characterizes those whose obituaries now appear in the papers highlighted by an American flag.

Deke Dickerson in Guitar Player Magazine
A tip of the capo to Deke Dickerson for his featured appearance in the hallowed pages of the March issue of Guitar Player Magazine. Pictured with his signature double-neck guitar and several of his lady friends, Deke talks about his choice of amplifiers(Standels) and his love of Chet Atkins, Jimmy Bryant and Merle Travis. He also walks away with the quote of the year. "Rockabilly is about Southern guys whose brains have been affected by driving cars with exhaust leaks." Amen, brother.

Deco Designer
The most glamorous and moderne hotels in Miami Beach in the fifties and sixties were the Eden Roc, the Americana and the Fountainbleau. All were designed by architect Morris Lapidus who died January 18 in his Miami Beach home at the age of 98. For years his work was derided by serious architects for its glitz, extravagance and "obscene panache." With the revival of interest in Florida's art deco districts in the early eighties, however, Mr. Lapidus' work was recognized for its postmodernist exuberance. The Fountainbleu, built in 1954, still stands as a tribute to his outlandishness.

More Dale Watson Words from Mary Mottet
A couple weeks ago (Dec. 16) we heard that Dale Watson would be featured on the Grand Ole Opry. So, Ken and I stayed home that night and tested every radio in the house to get the best pick-up of WSM. (We can get WSM in the car but this particular night we were experiencing record cold so the car radio was out of the question.) We found that WSM came in best on our old 40's kitchen model. It's one of those "just for shown' " radios but it got a new life that night. We waited patiently through all the announcements and pre-opry show, sitting in the kitchen keeping warm by the oven. Between waiting for Dale AND a pot roast, we sure had the anticipation blues! Anyway, finally it was Dale's turn off he went into a little number about Santa riding along in the truck and we were fairly giddy with joy --hearing our friend Dale, a real country singer, from a stage where he truly belongs. Sure there's plenty of Opry "stars" that pretend to the mantle of Country Singer, but the real ones are still there too! (Bill Anderson, Little Jimmy Dickens and Skeeter Davis keep at it nearly every week.) So Ken and I found ourselves in a warm house, dancing around the kitchen table, listening to real country on the Grand Ole Opry. It all seemed just the way it ought to be. Many thanks to Dale and Company for this lovely Christmas present!!!!