So what was I doing as I turned nine? Well blowing out a lone “number 9” candle on a chocolate iced cake for one thing. We had a small gathering of family over at our place and one gift I received was a new red winter coat. That’s pretty much all I know about the birthday. I also know what I went out as on Halloween – well, sorta. I was the highly polictically incorrect arab oil magnate. Denise was a sickenly adorable angel. I fondly recall our days of scouring the neighborhood to achieve the heaviest pillowcase of candy treats. I don’t remember if it was this year or not that we got an apple from the Hinds, prompting Kenny Carroll to say as we exited the driveway, “so where do we ditch the apple?”
Blowing out the 9th of many birthday cakes
A red winter coat – just what I always wanted
Playing the Angel
I have no hard documentation to indicate where we had Thanksgiving this particular year, but it was likely either at Grandma and Grandpa’s house or Diana and Tom’s as they really had the only places where we could fit a large crowd.
As I had not long before returned from my amazing Hollywood trip, I still had the glint in my eyes of conquering the celebrity world. I told one of the kids on my bus about my autograph collection and desires. This kid, Bobby Unverforth, was two years older than me and one of his teachers was Mr. Turner. He told me that Mr. Turner had an address book of famous people and that he gave extra credit in his class to students who wrote for autographs.
Immediately, I went to the other end of the building ‘that of the big kids’ to inquire about this address book. Mr. Turner told me to come back the next day and he would give me a copy. When I returned to collect it, he had me stand before the whole class and tell them about my recent exploits in Hollywood. I still remember this because it was rather unnerving to stand in front of all of the big kids and deliver this 30-second spiel. So soon after, I began my brief flirtation with sending out autograph requests, one that would soon develop into a long-term love affair.
Other than that, I sat around and read Mad Magazine…
On the old crummy couch with the Hudson bag stowed underneath
Denise and Mom sit in the chair that would soon be gone, flanked by the reel-to-reel tape player that would soon be gone, and the Ballantine pillow that you will periodically see in postings throughout the years
…until the fateful day of December 8, 1980. It was a cold winter’s morning when my Mom informed me that John Lennon had been shot. “Was he one of the Beatles?” I asked. I had certainly heard of the Beatles and was rather familiar with Abbey Road especially. But as a KISS fanatic, I was hardly interested in these oldies. But everything changed on that day.
As soon as the tributes began – and the constant radio airplay of Lennon and the Beatles – I became an absolute Beatles fanatic. I soon began assembling a collection of their records, buying the tribute magazines, and becoming fast friends with fellow classmate and Beatles adorer Matt Swisher. I forgot about KISS and turned to the Beatles.
To see my first successful autograph request, click here…
1980 will continue with Christmas…
I bet those weren’t your Halloween costumes, but a Christmas play at either your church or Eagles.
Bev
March 10th, 2008
I’m inclined to agree. That makes more sense that I was a shepherd, a wise man, or possibly the ‘idiot who brought myrrh’ – rather than an Arab Sheik! Either way, that was the last goatee I had until 1999.
Brad
March 10th, 2008
After further review, I have determined that these WERE in fact Halloween costumes. In 1979, we used these very costumes in a Christmas play at Eagles (but sans my goatee). But in looking at the photo album where these pictures were, Mom wrote lightly in pencil above the photos “Halloween 1980.” So although that was a very good hypothesis by Bev (you had me believing it!), we had actually recycled them for Trick or Treat the following year.
Brad
March 22nd, 2008