Monday, June 24, 2013
When we were in high school and for a few years after, we would gather at Hanson's apartment, listen to music, argue about books, and indulge in a beer or two. Or three. How many hours did we spend in Hanson's apartment arguing the merits of a particular Beatles album or Stones album? It was our sanctuary, even when Mike would play his Jack Brickhouse album of Great Moments in Cub History.
And then there were all those practices at Barclay's house. I can still see the practice room in my mind's eye. All the albums pinned to the walls as we muddled through Talking Heads, Jimi Hendrix, Neil Young, Clash tunes and others; Murrie drinking cough syrup to soothe his voice; Paul making sure we didn't play anything that wasn't real rock and roll; and you answering Paul's feedback with your own growling riffs. We had some fun, didn't we?
Steve, I never would have made it through high school and the post high school years without you. You had a great sense of humor, and you could always make a guitar snarl in your utterly unique way. You were a dear, sweet man. I will treasure the memories we had. Rest in peace.
