My Musical Roll to Your Fantastic Good Night

Deke's Note: When I locked into the first position on Track 22 tonight, it was the end of yet another long, eventful but quickly-forgotten week behind the wheel. Except for celebrating FTDS's 400k hit, that is. Let's see what else I can remember...

I'm currently enjoying a healthy dose of Irish medicine as my Friday night winds to a close. After 55+ hours as a bus operator, my weekend has become a celebrated respite from the hellish reality recently completed.

Given the constant addition of Dipshitus Erecti's sudden excursions immediately in front of my bus, this has been a typical week behind the wheel of 20 tons of glass, steel and related urban foolishness.

I'm currently watching/listening to Dan Fogelberg's The Leader of the Band, a song dedicated to his beloved father. We shared heroes, Dan and I: our fathers who now art in Heaven. Once, as a young lad and citizen of Boulder, Colorado, I had the opportunity to see Dan walk past me as I waited in line to see his friend Tim Weisberg's concert at the Boulder Theatre in 1981. A smartly-dressed and handsome man of about 5'10" walked past as I stood just about 75 yards past the entrance of the theatre. He was shy, guarded and trying not to be noticed. We made eye contact. I smiled and nodded silently in respect, and he responded in kind. There was no need for me to say anything, and his eyes pleaded so. Knowing his presence was enough for me; evidently NOT for those behind me in line.

"HEY! THAT'S DAN FOGELBERG!" some dumbass behind me blurted out. I shuddered. How ridiculously childish, I thought. Everyone in Boulder knew Dan's face, there was no need to call him out. He was shy and widely-known for valuing his privacy. It was a local norm to give Dan (and any other musical phenom like many who enjoyed that funky town) his space out of respect for the wonderful music he created.

Dan was as much a part of Boulder as the song "Same Old Lang Syne" had become. This was the time in which he released "The Innocent Age," an album magical in time and scope. It was sad that some dolt felt entitled to call Dan out as he quietly walked past the line waiting to enter the concert hall. However, it's part of the reality he had accepted as a widely-known musician. Quickly with a side nod to those who applauded while he walked across the street against traffic (exit, stage left!), I felt he appreciated my silent nod of recognition. I was happy to give him the respect he deserved. His prowess as a musician reminded me of Dad's respect for classical guitar and voice; their words often intertwined especially via their shared love of Christmas music.

Later that night, my fan's devotion at having spent an hour standing in line for General Admission seating to Tim Weisberg's concert was not only rewarded by Tim's incredible performance but also for his encore. As Tim came back onstage, he introduced Dan Fogelberg. The entire hall stood and cheered in appreciation. From my fifth-row seat, I was reduced to an open-mouthed howl of delight. After earlier making eye contact with Dan, one of my favorite artists of all time, here he was... 20 feet in front of me once again, acoustic guitar in hand, settling onto a bar-stool. He filled the auditorium with the opening guitar notes of "I'm Wasted, And I Can't Find My Way Back Home," and I was instantly mesmerized. He tapped his right foot to keep time. For the next 10 minutes, Tim stood by playing his flute as his friend dominated, pulled each note from that musician's hard-tuned  soul and incredible tenor voice. Dan had each of a thousand ears hanging upon each soulful note, every vocal nuance magnified within an eagerly-intent audience. I swayed in tune with every note, standing in respect via my musically-induced trance. It's a moment nearly 40-years hence which still resonates within my soul... magical in nature, a wonderful moment in my musical life's repertoire. Second to Dad, Dan Fogelberg's music will always resonate supreme within me.

When some youngster boards with their own music blaring, I gently ask them to turn it off. The music of my soul is humming within. Anything that competes with the Gillig motor's noise or typical human conversation, I cannot abide. The bus noises are constantly in need of attention. To monitor passenger conversation tones while simultaneously hearing music or YouTube video noises is impossibly horrific to my concentration. Gently and politely, I ask people to mute the sounds on their electronic devices. Their favorites likely don't match the tastes of their fellow passengers. They certainly cannot compete with the music which drives my roll. Try Heart's rendition of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven if you want to hear me sing along. Or Dan Fogelberg's hearkening to days past with his Same Old Lang Syne ringing in yet another new January 1. Please mute your YouTube or whatever cell noises lure your attention while riding with a bus full of people who could care less what drives your musical tastes. Your music or other audio delights likely don't agree with the tastes of the operator or your fellow passengers. SILENCE! That's the best way to roll on transit.

Oh, how I wish I could drive to the tunes which have delighted me throughout my almost 60 years! It would make the miles roll so much easily. Sigh. Only within the mind I have left. Given the disgust I'm afforded as a transit operator, a musical escape into Chicago Transit Authority or Linda Ronstadt or Chuck Wagon and The Wheels or Neil Diamond would be a heavenly relief. But no, I need to keep in tune to the sounds of the bus and the street noises surrounding me as I drive. The only music I hear is within the soul I've listened to my entire life. It's intermingled with the constants of transit, and I hum its constant tune while paying diligent attention to those who fail to. After seven years, I've learned to hear what's necessary and tune out the white noise. That's the only way I know to drive this bus.... peacefully, smoothly and always attuned to the constants which surround my vehicle.

Now, it's my weekend. Y'all's bus noises have faded into the past, like your Hop passing avoidance of a personal greeting. I have saved many lives and struggled to remain kind during the hours prior to your boarding. Still I roll these dark city dangers in my quest to provide my fellow Portlanders whom I'm paid to: a safe and smooth roll to your collective destination.

You're welcome.

Love,
Deke