Album cover, “Hotel California” by the Eagles

The other day, Blake called and asked, “Dad, where should I stay on May 24th when I’m doing the Higher Path, We Need Rent Money 420 Tour in the Green Room in Sherman Oaks?”

“Blake, when I’m in the LA area, I recommend staying at the Hotel California. You’ll love it there.”

“Dad, why there?”

“Son, it’s the way they welcome you. Right from the start, when you get out of the car, the warm smell of colitas permeates your nostrils. It’s a lovely place, with a lovely face. At any time of the year, you can find plenty of rooms there. They actually do research on their guests before arrival. They know your tastes, your favorite music, foods and wine.

And when you get there, they announce your arrival by ringing the mission bell three times.”

“Why three times?”

“Because the number three is symbolic of success, creativity and passion.”

“Dad, that’s a classy touch.”

“And then a pretty blonde hostess greets you at the hotel doorway. She’s holding a lit yellow candle. She whispers, “Blake Laitner, award-winning movie director, welcome to the Hotel California.” Her soft voice melts your private parts. Her sexy body immediately makes you want to jump her bones. And as she escorts to you to your room, you walk down this long pink corridor, listening to the Eagles sing, “Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, with such a lovely face…”

“Blake, did you know that that 1976 song by Frey, Henley and Felder was awarded an Emmy. It’s regarded as one of the greatest rock songs of all time. And it’s guitar coda was voted the best guitar solo of all time?”

“Dad, everybody knows that.”

“And when that song ends, the next tune up is the theme song from We Need Rent Money sung by Sampson Ray Simon and Megan Johns.”

“WOW! Now I get what you meant about them doing their homework. This pad sounds awesome.”

“Blake, there’s more. When you enter the courtyard, a projector posts your movie’s poster—the one where the guy in the black tee shirt taking a long drag on a joint. And when you turn on your TV, on the screen there’s a plug for We Need Rent Money being shown at the Greenroom on May 24th.

“Super WOW! I love it.”

“And in that courtyard, a bunch of pretty boys are dancing—some to remember and others to forget. Then this bell captain in full uniform—wearing a double-breasted jacket with silver and gray epaulets and shiny silver buttons—brings you a bottle of red wine. He says, “This wine is called, The Spirit of 1969.” And on the wine label, you’ll notice a version of the We Need Rent Money movie poster. The poster with Jason Lava’s, Sampson Ray Simon’s and Malakhai Schnell’s stoned laughing faces. The one where their eyes are dancing to the music.

“Dad, you’ve convinced me to book a room at the Hotel California. I can’t wait to get there.”

“But Blake, my successful, creative and passionate son, remember, at the Hotel California you are programmed to receive. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

Remembering the lyrics, Blake cracked up and said, “Goodbye Dad. I love you.”

1. Thumbs up.—Donna
2. Thumbs up.—Joanne
3. Thumbs up.—Joan
4. Thumbs up.—Jan
5. Thumbs up.—Howard
6. Thumbs up.—Frank
7. Thumbs up.—Blake
8. Thumbs up.— Bobby
9. Thumbs up.—Bonnie
10. Thumbs up.—Jim
11. Great story. —Marieanne
12. Joan Hornbeck
13. One of Paul’s favorite groups (Allman Bros. top the list!) The memories of he and I making jokes, singing this song, blasting it in the car for all those years…? Priceless to me. You did a great job on this Pally!! 
14. Perry, Thanks for sharing. Mort
15. Thumbs up.—Joel
16. Thumbs up.—Rosalyn
17. Thumbs up.—Zeny
18. Thumbs up.—Laurie
19. Thumbs up.—Sandra
20. Thumbs up.—Rita
21. Thumbs up.—Edward
22. Thumbs up.—Alan
23. Nice.—Barbara
24. Love it, Mort Too cool!—Ricki
25. Thumbs up.—Gerri
26. Thumbs up.—Johanna
27. Thumbs up.—Jaz
28. Thumbs up.—Jason
29. Thumbs up.—Laurie
30. Thumbs up.—Candice
31. Thumbs up.—Aimee
32. Thumbs up.—Edwin
33. So clever and also so meaningful.—Aimee
34. Thumbs up.—Marieanne

On Tuesday, November 5, 2024, I will cast my vote for President Joe Biden for two reasons:

Patriotism and Fear.

Yes, I’m devoted to and vigorously support the country I love.

Yes, I love voting and the democratic process.

Yes, I’m a patriot.

A patriot fighting as hard as I can to convince voters that our nation is in deep trouble, if the hater of democracy gets elected.

And yes, our country was founded on the belief that its citizens had the right to “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” Our Constitution was designed to “promote the general Welfare and secure the Blessings of Liberty.”

Well as a patriot, I’m fearful that Mr. Dictator-For-A-Day shall declare martial law and take my life and my possessions, steal my liberty and kill my pursuit of happiness.

For no slave is ever happy.

I doubt Trump knows the meaning of patriotism, or freedom, or liberty. Is he even capable of understanding their importance? For he’s only a patriot of greed bowing to the green pieces of paper folded in his wallet.

Trump wants, desires and demands the power to control how I act, what I read, what I write,  what I say and what I think.

He doesn’t understand or care to understand the sacrifices made by the military in support of our freedoms. They’re all suckers in President Bone Spurs book.

He doesn’t understand the families of veterans who have lost loved ones in war, or the wounded vet returning home disabled, or the life of a POW because no immediate member of his family ever served in the Armed Forces and he doesn’t give a shit.

He doesn’t understand the idea of serving to protect.

For he has never sacrificed anything in support of our great nation and never will.

But he does know how to mock and laugh at the handicapped.

I saw him do it on TV. He thought he was so funny in his cruelty.

I guess when he laughs at others with problems, he’s in pursuit of his right to happiness.

And cruelty makes him happy.

Whether it’s physically battering women or making them perform sex for money.

What a cruel man.

And there are many people who get off on watching him be cruel.

Does he really believe he should have the liberty and the freedom to rape women?

Yet this man who was blessed with wealth and with liberty enjoys taking it away from others.

Watch him smirk when he talks about taking away a woman’s right to choose.

His face says it all, “I’m in my happy place. Who gives a shit about a pregnant woman who has to make the toughest decision of her life?”

I fear he will lead this nation into civil war or a nuclear war or down the road of financial disaster. And as if Nero, he will fiddle as the American empire collapses.

For he’s not a smart man.

Trump raps himself in the flag, but he can’t hide his love of authoritarian regimes where those seeking freedom are housed in prisons or are murdered.

I fear a candidate who hides classified documents in his bathroom.

I fear any candidate who discloses top secret info to our enemies.

I fear a liar who claims to be a patriot and watches people die during his insurrection and does nothing.

For I fear an evil man.

Yes, patriotism and fear will get me to the polling station on November 5th and I will vote for a smart, kind and honest patriot—Joe Biden.

“Hazel”

Everyone has memories that were so mind boggling that they will never forget.  Other than family events, I have five:  Hurricane Hazel in 1954, President Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, The collision of the two 747’s in 1977, The Challenger explosion in 1986, and The attack on the Twin Towers in 2001.  There are other significant events that I remember, but these never fade.

But the one I wanted to talk about with you is Hurricane Hazel.  To joggle your memory, we lived on a rented farm in rural NC.  Our house was ventage 20’s or 30’s built on pillars, with 4 rooms.  We did not have running water and our restroom was an outhouse.  Our only electricity was a twisted cord hanging from the ceiling with a pull-socket attached to the end.  There was usually a 100-watt light bulb screwed into the socket that was the source of light for the room.  My mom cooked on a propane stove.  Our water source was a pump in the kitchen.  Needless to say, we lived a simple life.

I remember our house was surrounded by five or six Chinaberry trees.  They were huge and offered an abundance amount of shade around our house—the only drawback was in late summer; the ground would be covered with Chinaberries.  We always went without shoes in the summer and the balls would squish between our toes.  This felt kind of weird and the odor from them was horrible.

Across the street was a dairy run by Neil MacDonald.  His dad owned the home and Neil’s younger brother still lived there named Hugh.  Their home was surrounded by tall pine trees.  Hugh had just bought a new 54 light blue Ford.  He was so proud of that car—most cars back then were black.

It was a Friday morning like any other Friday.  We got up, had breakfast, and went outside to wait for the bus.  It was a beautiful fall day with unusually high temperatures forecasted to be almost 90 F.—hot for a fall day!  The bus came and we boarded saying hello to our friends before settling in for the 30-minute ride to school. 

Back then, the blacks had their own schools and buses—we would pass each other on the narrow dirt road and our driver always deployed the stop sign on the left side of our bus and the black driver would do the same, creating a loud “bam-a-lam” as we passed.  We could see the black students and they could see us.  Every time we passed, we exchanged a gesture that I had no idea why until I shared it in class and got in trouble.  I later learned that it was the call “Flipping the Bird”, and it was ugly!

We arrived and went to our classes.  I was in the second grade.  Things were going as they usually did until about 11 am.  Our teacher was called into the hallway by someone and then she returned with a frightened look on her face and informed us that we all needed to pack up and hurry to our buses.  We were being sent home!

The halls were abuzz with chatter about being sent home.  I heard the word “Hurricane”, but it meant nothing to me.  Back then there was no TV for us, no weather channel, and no radar to warn us of storms coming.  However, the new word did not sound pleasing, and we knew it was bad if they were sending us home.

At that age, I could take a fear of the unknown and turn it into a monster.  We attended church every Sunday and based on what I had learned, I assumed the worst and thought that we were experiencing an apocalypse.

In my fear, I got on the wrong bus thinking it could get me home faster than mine.  Where that rationale came from, I can’t explain except that I wanted to get home to my parents and the safety of my home as soon as I could.  Soon I was the last one on the bus and I started crying.  The driver asked me where I lived, and he was kind enough to take me home.  The catastrophe (I didn’t know it was a storm) had not yet hit, and both he and I got home safely.

When I went inside, my dad was already home from work, and he and my mom were talking about the “herrikin” as they pronounced it.  I asked, “Dad, what is a herrikin?”  He proceeded to explain, a herrikin is a huge storm with lots of wind and rain.  It has an eye in the middle and when it arrives, the sun comes out and it is calm until the eye passes, then the storm resumes.  He explained that the winds changed direction after the eye passed.  I have already mentioned that I had a vivid imagination and that was just enough to send my mind in a frenzy! 

I already knew that anything with one eye had to be a monster!  And with the wind blowing in one direction before the eye, and then the opposite direction after the eye with it being calm while in the eye had to be the work of the devil!  I was frightened at what was coming, but I kept it inside.  I wasn’t sure if this was the end of the world or not.

It wasn’t long before the sun was covered by black clouds and the rain began to pour.  The winds slowly built into a whistling song as it whipped around and under our house.  We all sat at the kitchen table not saying much and waiting for something bad to happen.  After an eternity, the howling winds died down and blue skies appeared.  I thought we had survived the onslaught of the wind and the rain, but my dad reminded me that we were in the eye.  I had figured out that the storm was just that and not a monster which relieved my fear a little.  I still did not know what to expect.

In less than an hour, the clouds rolled in again, bringing stronger winds and heavier rain.  The stronger winds were accompanied by gusts up to 110 mph.  Our house would shudder with each gust and I would think that out house was going to be lifted from it pillars and blown into the sky like I had seen at the movies.  It seemed like the rain was falling in buckets. 

Then suddenly, the Chinaberry trees started to topple one by one.  They have a shallow root system and the saturated ground could no longer hold the trees in place against the wind.  They looked like dominoes falling one after the other.  Luckily none hit our home, but the last one fell across our power lines from the street and plunged us into darkness inside our home.  My mom broke out the Hurricane Kerosene lamps so that we could see. 

By then, it was getting dark, and the storm passed.  It was eerily quiet and there was no movement or lights to be seen from our windows.  We could not do much in the dark, so we went to bed.

Saturday morning brought the sun and blue skies.  We ventured out to see what damage there was and we found it.  Debris and trees lined the yard around our house.  Mom told us not to go near the downed power lines.  Amazingly, there was not any damage to our house, our barn was intact, and even our outhouse was not harmed. 

Unfortunately, the brand-new blue ford that I mentioned earlier was t-boned from a pine tree that snapped during the high winds and fell across the car.  Other than that, we were all pretty lucky considering the strength of hurricane Hazel. 

We got our power back in about a week, but we hardly missed it.  No TV, no appliances, no phone, no electric water pump, and nothing else that needed electricity except a radio and lights.  We had our hurricane lamps and mom cooked on her propane stove, so we moved on usual.

However, other parts of North Carolina were not as fortunate as Hazel killed 19 people and injured more than 200 in North Carolina. It destroyed 15,000 homes and structures and caused an estimated $136 million in property losses in the state that would be worth $930 million today.

So Mort, I know you guys have a lot of hurricanes and a lot of damage here in Florida, but for one day in October, 1954, I was hypnotized by the worst hurricane to ever hit North Carolina!

Thanks Jim for your well-written memories. Mort