i was ten years younger and forty-five pounds lighter when this baby-faced kid walks up to me in the lobby of hightower hall. “so, eh, where ya from?”
“alabama.”
“oh! do you like auburn or alabama?”
“’bama.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?? ARE YOU LIKE A FUCKING FASCIST OR SOMETHING? are you rich, maybe?”
“what? no, jeez, no, my dad’s a coal miner . . . ”
“are you a democrat or a republican?”
“what? i don’t really . . . ”
“WHICH ONE!”
“democrat! i’m a democrat! but i’ve only voted like . . . ”
“so you’re a democrat and your dad is a coal miner and you’re going to an a & m school in the poorest state in the nation. how can you root for a football team at a school who traditionally has wielded the artistocratic power of the state, repressing blacks and the impoverished through a continuing caste-system of rich doctors and rich lawyers? where george wallace made his symbolic stand that has plagued the heart of our state for decades?”
“what? i’ve never . . . well, i’ve never thought of it that way . . . ?”
“how could you not? hey, my favorite band is the cure. do you want to go listen to pornography?”
[confused but intrigued] “uh, yeah, sure, that sounds great!”
that was my welcome to the post-modern logic and fun of big gray. over the next ten years, he taught me more about music than any magazine or greil marcus book could ever hope to do. he’s been a good friend, a great one, and today is his birthday.
happy birthday!
Hell yeah! Happy B-day, Lucas. You were the person who made me realize that when it came to rock and roll in general (and the Cure in particular), I wasn’t an obsessive—I was a completist.
Birthday greetings from Texas, Lucas! Have a great day!
t.
That’s a great story!