Patriotism and the F word

I was five minutes late for a conference call today. It was scheduled for 11:00 am. I received the e-mail notification a couple of weeks ago, but I couldn't remember whether it was EST or Central. I assumed it was the latter, since that's where the e-mail originated. I was wrong, but that's not the point.

A co-worker asked me to create a patriotic PowerPoint presentation. With the "war" in Iraq, terrorist attacks directed towards US allies, and investigations into treason and perjury, I'm not feeling much national pride. Like it or not, this presentation is work that I'm expected to do.

Turned out to be no big deal. I was able to complete the first draft quickly. Soldiers, children, national monuments, eagles and lots of flags. My conscience was my guide. No exploitive 9/11 or presidential pictures were used, just good Americans.

While arranging the score to this piece of corporate propaganda, my phone rang and another request for my technical expertise was made. A different co-worker wanted to use a film clip in a business meeting. He wanted to know if I could edit that portion and remove the profanity. The F word, to be more precise.

I took offense at this. When needed, I like to use that word myself. Not at work, but nearly anywhere else. Once again, I agreed to do the best I could and help if possible.

I was twice asked to do things that were within my means, but that I'd rather not do. I'm not lazy. I would just rather produce something in which I believe. Maybe other people feel the same, but that's not the point.

To the occasion I rose. I suppose that's the point.

Guitarkansas

MB called me this morning as he started out on his twelve hour drive from Iowa to Arkansas. His wedding is about two months away and it's time for him to visit his family. I know that this trip is one of many he'll make over the next few weeks. It's a busy time for him, but we make time to talk.

During most of our conversations, a great deal of silliness arises. It's become a goal I look forward to reaching. It's usually a signal that we've been on the phone too long, said everything we had to say, and that good-byes are imminent. "I'm going to hang up on you now" has become a sort of punch line for us. I'll explain the origin of this humor at some other point.

After our normal chit-chat, my wandering mind puts together disconnected pieces of earlier topics. Arkansas and guitars are both parts of MB's life. I've never been to Arkansas, but I enjoy hearing him talk about it. Guitars, I love.

I can't help myself at this point. It's in my head now and it's making me grin. I've got to say it.

"Guitarkansas" I said to MB. "I think they should change the name."

Silence was his first response, but I knew he was smiling. I was trying not to laugh out loud.

Exile on Peachtree Street

Musician Scott Shamel dies at age 40

BY LEE VALENTINE SMITH

"A lot of people didn't know Scott as a musician," says veteran Atlanta singer/songwriter Ray Dafrico about his longtime friend and fellow musician Paul "Scott" Shamel II. "Even people where he worked (Fellini's Pizza in Atlanta, GA) might not have known he was in a band." But Dafrico knew him well. The pair met when both were in eighth grade in Alpharetta and bonded through a shared love of the Rolling Stones and Cheap Trick. They later played in several local projects, including Shades of Shame and Kickstand. Shamel's recent death at age 40 was quite a shock.

"We hadn't been playing together for a while, so I don't think he was doing anything apart from working, buying a new condo, and just trying to get his life together," says Dafrico.

Even though he wasn't the best known artist in town, the hard-living Shamel was active in the local music scene. In the late '80s, he was the bassist for Mr. Crowe's Garden, which later became the Black Crowes after he and his friend, Ted Selke, were booted out.

"I think he was always bitter about that, but he didn't make a big deal out of it. That's the kind of guy he was." Even though rock stardom escaped him, Shamel went on to play in a series of modestly successful bands including the Dixie Tramps, and collaborated with a who's who of the local elite.

"He just had a big heart," says Dafrico. "And that probably led to his addictive personality and I guess, from that, his early death." Shamel's penchant for excessive partying was a part of his image that friends tried to discourage but he embraced it and even joked about it, says Dafrico.

"He was the real deal," says Lars Nagel, also of Motor 76. "He really was Exile on Main Street, a true rock 'n' roll pirate with a great human quality about him. We'll all miss him."

Scott Shamel was born Sept. 29, 1964 at Piedmont Hospital, and died there June 22, 2005. Cause of death was still unknown at press time.

It's the final countdown

This is what I hear in my head at quitin' time.

It's the final countdown!
Dada da da,
dada da da da,
dada da da,
dada da da da da.