Loss, Traveling America, and Swenson’s
"Naked and crying is no way for a guy that just saw Wayne's World to act!"
The first advice I remember my dad giving me as a kid was "naked and crying is no way for a guy that just saw Wayne's World to act!"
When my mom remarried, we went from bouncing around the westside of Cleveland to a small town 40 minutes away where Lifesavers were invented. My new-ish step dad took me to see Wayne's World at the local theater. I was way too young to understand 85% of what was actually good and funny about the movie but, as you can imagine, I was frigging amped . The rush of seeing a PG-13 comedy was short lived, however - ending with him saying he heard my interim grades weren't great and I should really try harder at my new school.
I acted like I understood but, upon getting home, I retreated to the shower and sobbed uncontrollably. He heard me and quickly interjected:
"Naked and crying is no way for a guy that just saw Wayne's World to act!"
It kinda put things in perspective. Just because I had to work a little harder to get my grades up shouldn't completely negate the radical feeling of seeing Wayne's World. It was good advice from a good "Dad".
Later that year my "Dad" would legally, officially become my Dad. He adopted me after a biological father I barely knew decided he was cool with sitting this one out ("this one" being me existing). Even as a little kid it wasn't lost on me that he chose to be my Dad, and maybe that meant even more than a biological father. I still think it does.
I don't recall getting much unsolicited advice over the years that followed. But I do recall having a lot of adventures and being exposed to some pretty cool shit. Well before Wayne's World and the adoption, he played me the first album I remember seeing (not hearing -seeing). It was a cassette of Beastie Boys License to Ill.
We joined Boy Scouts together (me as a scout and him as a leader) and it was fun, terrible, hilarious and everything in between. After a couple years, it started to become more and more difficult. I couldn't really keep up with the other kids on the bikeathons and hiking trips. I got worn out and hurt pretty easily. Somewhere over those Boy Scout years he gave me an acoustic guitar and let me use his old bass on occasion. I didn't get worn out or hurt playing guitar or bass.
He didn't seem too heartbroken when I slowly phased out my interest in Scouts and pivoted to playing music and making stuff with my friends instead. He kinda started it with the Beastie Boys tape and taking me to see Wayne's World, anyway.
My dad made a lot of music himself. He was a great songwriter and even better storyteller. He loved Lou Reed and liked Television, yet I don’t know if he had an opinion on my generation’s pre-algorithm-algorithmically generated version of that music, aka The Strokes. One of my favorite songs of all time reminds me a lot of dad’s writing in its riffs, lyrics, and general coolness.
A lot of you conveniently forgot that Mo Williams was an NBA all-star in ‘09…🙄
Years later I was done playing music but I was making "enough money” to take him out for something that felt like the Wayne's World of its time: the Cleveland Cavaliers led by LeBron James and Mo Williams. Yes I was making "enough money" to get us some pretty bad upper level seats. Much like the latter era of my Boy Scouts career...I was struggling climbing those stairs. My Dad told me "hey, you should get that checked out. That's no way to live".
I had to agree. I scheduled an appointment shortly after at the Cleveland Clinic which started me on a journey to my LGMD diagnosis. A decade plus later, it's a challenging way to live in ways I never could have imagined. What happens when “no way to live” is sort of the only option? You try to be alright and do alright, I’ve assumed.
The last advice my Dad gave me was on my last phone call with him, right before he went in for surgery. Apparently, for too many of our phone calls in a row I mentioned things were “alright”.
"Doing and being 'just alright' all the time isn't good enough." I’m paraphrasing, but only slightly.
After a chaotic weekend that my mom and brothers dealt with in person, I got the call that we lost him. After a few hours, my wife Elizabeth and I immediately decided to head to Ohio. By car. We drove from Los Angeles to Ohio. You can’t (or shouldn’t) nickel n’ dime last minute air travel with a mobility challenge like mine, and it was days until something resembling a “comfortable” direct flight. So we just packed up and went. It had to beat Spirit Airlines connecting in Minnesota at 3AM.
Driving across the country is wild as hell. I did it multiple times when I toured in my early 20s and it was oddly not that different this time aside from being with a wife and dog in a VW Tiguan instead of Maximum Dudes in a van. For the most part, everything looks exactly the same now as it did back then, only with way more Amazon trucks. Somewhere in Utah we slept outside our home for the first time since the pandemic v1.0 launched, which resulted in sleeping like complete shit. Somewhere in Nebraska I realized that MOST vehicles on the road were Amazon trucks.
Green River, Utah on frickin’ film.
Somewhere around Iowa in the middle of the night, the Apple Music playlist shuffle moment I absolutely knew was gonna happen…happened. The Death Cab cut What Sarah Said off of Plans came on. It should be no surprise, based on my appearance, age, and most things about my personality, that I think Plans is a perfect album. I remember getting a leaked download of it on AIM via Mikey Liner (sorry to snitch, Mikey) and immediately burning a copy so I could drive around in the dolphin blue truck my dad and I shared to consume it. I remember listening to What Sarah Said and thinking it was already the saddest songs I'd ever heard..but even in that moment knowing one day it was gonna be WAY sadder. That moment hit listening to it on the drive and felt exactly how I'd assumed it would feel 15+ years ago.
Despite the circumstance, being home was nice, important, funny, hard, and everything else I thought it would be. It had already been a long time since I'd been back in Ohio prior to the pandemic. I spent quality (not quantity) time with almost all of the most important people in my life thus far. The picture I painted in my head of coming back never involved the circumstances that forced the hand to get home, but it did involve eating Swenson's. I did and I enjoyed the hell out of it. I don't have much else to say about Swenson's except that it's great and I really just wanted to reference it in the title for that reason, so I needed to write something here about it. The Salad Boy is an all-time veggie burger and true PattyHeads in the Akron area and beyond swear by the hamburger aka “Galley Boy”.
Top: Dad slamming a brew with the boys before a Grateful Dead show. Bottom: Brother watching Rick & Morty in our hotel room. Different eras but equally iconic photos!
After the trip I went right back to working (a lot) and other pandemic v2.0 “normal” life things. Was that a good idea? I certainly haven't felt awesome, but more often than not, I do feel like things could turn a corner. For example, I started writing this, for myself, several weeks ago and did everything to get in my own way of finishing. Now it’s finished.
Next week/month/year could be better. Better than "just alright". I am gonna try my best to follow the last advice my dad gave me. Try to do and feel "better than just alright".
Thanks for reading, and I wish you a much better-than-alright Holidays and end to ‘21.
-Tony