The Thought For Today

 Warning: The following post contains moments of clarity, references (for some of you) to obscure comedians, and me being a collector geek.

Some days, you don't get everything you want. You miss out on that 1931 full-page ad featuring the Marx Brothers by 50 cents. But you then realize that you've already own a poster that your wife bought you a few months ago, and had gotten lost in the mountain of life that is your office. So you put that on your wall instead. You also made a screenshot of the Marx Brothers ad, anyway, so that can now reside on your desktop. For free.

Other days, you've been eyeing those autographs of Clark & McCullough for weeks. Is it worth the money? And then you realize that life is too short, and all can be chaos in he blink of an eye. So yeah, you buy it, and you watch the film of the duo rehearsing a show with George Gershwin in 1929. Heck yeah.

The lesson through all this? Rejoice for what you can do in this crazy world. Enjoy the good moments, and keep going through the unexpected. Dance to what you like, buy those things that matter to you, display that poster that represents more than just an image, and screenshot the rest.

On to the next adventure. See you there, and see you on the road.

-Daniel

January 27, 2022

For Neal Casal, And Others

Remember that no one is truly alone in the world. No matter how much it can seem, and the number of times you may feel alone, you have a lifetime of friends, family and others that are here for you. Because sooner or later, all we have is each other, and we would rather have you here, than not. To Neal Casal, and all of my friends out on the Great Highway, see you again someday, and see you on the road.

-Daniel

August 28, 2019

A Passing Song In A Passing Room

Standing in a busy hotel lobby yesterday, looking at the rains of Hurricane Michael, when this song came on the lobby's PA system. Lift me to your place in the clouds, more soon, and see you on the road.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4y8WGOJu_c

-Daniel

October 12, 2018

Uncle Vin and Uncle Jim

In speaking at Rodney Lanier's memorial service tonight, I made mention of my Uncles Vin and Jim, and realized that I'd left out their context. Father Vincent P. Collins, and Father James Collins were my grandmother's brothers, and were both prominent Catholic priests in upstate New York. Vincent was also the best-selling author of the self-help book "Me, Myself and You," as well as other books. When I was young, I was told that Vincent was the one in the family that I was most like, somewhat because I was writing all the time.

Sadly, I only have vague memories of uncle Vin, as he passed away when I was young, and we lived in different parts of New York. I knew uncle Jim a little better, and we always ended up talking about baseball (he was a Cardinals fan, like my grandfather). If you knew uncle Vin or Jim, I'd love to hear from you. I've wanted to know more about both for a long time.
-Daniel
Dec. 18, 2011

Happy 66th wedding anniversary

When I was four, I lived for some time with my mother's parents, George and Mary King. I was their first grandchild, and I took to them like I have rarely connected to anyone else in my life. I learned a lot from them. Set your own hours, take time for yourself, family does matter, and most importantly, do what you care about. No big fanfare about things, but do what matters to you, and be proud of what you've done. I still look at that time of my life as one of my happiest. I will always be from upstate New York, even if its just in the emotional sense, and they will always be a big part of that.

George and Mary's last anniversary together on this earth was in 1990, the same day that my first TV show premiered on local TV. Years later, I found their wedding photo negatives, and made sure that they were preserved. George and Mary are no longer here, in the physical sense, as are too many of the good people I've known along the way. But it is said that no one is truly gone if we still talk about them, quote from them. Live through their experiences. And I am still proud to do so.

Happy 66th annivsersary, George and Mary, from your old kid,
-Daniel

Marshall Grant RIP

There’s a statement at the end of Marshall Grant’s excellent autobiography that really struck me. He said that he still dreamed of J. R. Cash, the friend and fellow musician that he’d known. Laughing together, fishing together, and creating music. A lot of people asked about Johnny Cash, Marshall continued, and that he didn’t know who that was. He knew J. R..

Marshall Grant was Johnny Cash’s friend and musical cohort from the beginning, and even before then. Grant worked at a auto mechanic shop in Memphis, Tennessee in 1954. When Grant and Cash were introduced by mutual friends, they began jamming together in Marshall’s living room. Grant worked with another mechanic, Luther Perkins, that also played guitar, so he also joined in. All three were still learning their way around four chords. When they realized that three guitarists didn’t hold a rhythm as well, Grant bought a stand-up bass. It didn’t matter that Grant had never played one before. It just seemed, and sounded, like the right thing to do.

Cash would later say that the sound of himself and “The Tennessee Two” (As Perkins and Grant would later be known) was there within the first eight bars they played together. That sound, the sparse melody and moody rhythm, could’ve only come from those three men. They learned to play their instruments together, they write to create songs together, they became a band, together. And Cash learned to become a frontman, in front of that sound. Sure, Sam Phillips could have paired Johnny with another band, or even Elvis Presley’s band, and it might’ve sounded good. But it would not have sounded like Johnny Cash. It would not have had THAT sound.

Cash also learned to write to the sound of that band. Listen to how many of Cash’s songs are built around Grant’s basslines (“I Walk The Line” is a great example). Cash also relied on Grant to keep the tours, and the band going, even when Cash himself was sometimes off the rails. Grant did all of that for 26 years, leaving in 1980 when Cash’s drug relapse got to be too much to handle. Cash was not the same for years to come, but Grant and Cash stayed friends, sharing that sound, and shared experiences for the rest of their lives.

I never got to see Marshall Grant, but I saw him speak at Cash’s memorial concert in 2003.  His speech was remarkable, an unscripted outpouring of love, happiness and sadness. It seems oddly appropriate that Grant passed away last week at Cash’s boyhood home of Dyess, Arkansas, while preparing to play a benefit concert. As Cash came from there, so the last living member of the Tennessee two left this earth from there.

When someone like Johnny Cash becomes as much of an icon as he did, the myth often takes over the reality. We see the myth as a solitary figure, and those who helped to forge the icon get lost in the shadows. But there is no lead role without the supporting characters, for they help to make the icons who we see. On stage, and on record. Marshall Grant was more than that. He was a friend, steadying force, and co-creator is the music and mythology. We, like J.R., owe him a lot of thanks.

-Daniel Coston

August 11, 2011