Summer of Love
April 8, 2009
Later. In the beginning, Joanna is the star, or at least the ingenue.
I think of the Summer of '86 as my Summer of Love. Not sex, because there was none. Love. Randy and I were in love with Joanna. The three of us were in love with life.
We lived together in a 2-2 in a sprawling student apartment complex on Lakeshore Boulevard.
I can't speak for Randy, but when Joanna asked me to live with her for the summer, because her intended eventual roommate Sherry was spending the summer at home, I thought it was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me -- like having your health teacher "assign" you to practice mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with the prom queen -- when you're a freshman!
Originally it was just going to be me and Joanna for the summer. She brought Randy into the picture at the last minute (the Lord giveth...). She may have just been thinking practically. Randy had a car and we didn't. Or maybe two guys and a girl is less awkward than one guy and a girl. I have no complaints, though, because living with Randy and Joanna was one of the most intensely enjoyable times of my life.
I'd known Randy -- we'd all three known each other -- from the previous 2 semesters in Jester dormitory. He was a fun guy, but I don't remember us being tight. We all hit it off once we were together in the apartment. For each of us, it was the first time living on our own. We were giddy. Frankly, we were a laugh riot -- a kind of odd trio, like in the movies. We were both in love with Joanna. She enjoyed spurning our romantic enticements. Randy and I got along like best friends.
The anecdote.
I don't remember how Randy and I both ended up with tickets to the Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers show at the Frank Erwin Center. Maybe he'd intended to go with someone else, and that had fallen through. In any case, Randy probably deserves the credit/blame for converting me from a casual Dylan listener to a dyed in the wool fan. For example, he showed me how I could learn to play "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts" because it only had 3 chords (and 12 verses).
We went to the show, which was scheduled for the early evening. Many of the songs were unfamiliar to me and the acoustics at the Erwin Center were terrible, so I couldn't make out the lyrics to many of the songs. At subsequent Dylan shows, that would not be an issue, as I'd know most of the lyrics to most of his songs.
The show must have let out early, because we had time to go skulking around the nearby university campus. We probably went to the Cactus Cafe, a campus bar featuring live music -- usually small acoustic acts. We most likely drank a few. Afterward, as we made our way back to the arena parking lot, we came upon a tall cinder block wall. I don't remember what was on the other side of the wall, but we undertook to scale it as if there was a dorm full of desperate coeds on the other side. Come to think of it, it may have been a campus police station.
We nearly made it to the top. Then we heard a police cruiser's PA, "all right, come down off the wall." I don't remember getting into too much trouble over the matter. Randy probably charmed the cop out of giving us much grief and we continued on our way to the parking lot.
Finally, as we were driving away, we saw a touring bus pull to a stop at the intersection of Red River and MLK. It had to be either Dylan's bus or Petty's. Remarkably, we saw (in silhouette) a lanky figure, with a huge mop of curly hair, standing at the front of the bus. Dylan? We agreed, most likely, yes.
As the bus turned onto MLK we turned after it. The back of the bus said "Buffalo Springfield." Dylan bought Buffalo Springfield's tour bus? It turned north onto Interstate 35, towards Waco. We followed. We didn't know why, but better to follow it and formulate a plan than to just let it go. It sped up. A couple of other cars, besides ours, were in pursuit. We still had no plan, but we just didn't want to let the moment go. It sped up more. 90 miles per hour (that was one fast bus). Maybe we didn't want to let the evening go. Our car started to run out of breath. Maybe we thought it wasn't worth getting into an accident just to pursue Buffalo Springfield's tour bus.
Maybe I didn't want to let the summer go.
The remainder.
Randy left for New Orleans after the first summer session. I should have been happy to have Joanna to myself, but it wasn't the same. It's a cliche, but us three together were greater than the sum of each us in part. Randy and I drifted apart over the next couple of years. Then he left Austin. I saw him once, some years later. Joanna and I cooled, but continued to see each other infrequently over the years.
Dylan's still touring.
Next in news:How to Make a Good MartiniI think of the Summer of '86 as my Summer of Love. Not sex, because there was none. Love. Randy and I were in love with Joanna. The three of us were in love with life.
We lived together in a 2-2 in a sprawling student apartment complex on Lakeshore Boulevard.
I can't speak for Randy, but when Joanna asked me to live with her for the summer, because her intended eventual roommate Sherry was spending the summer at home, I thought it was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me -- like having your health teacher "assign" you to practice mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with the prom queen -- when you're a freshman!
Originally it was just going to be me and Joanna for the summer. She brought Randy into the picture at the last minute (the Lord giveth...). She may have just been thinking practically. Randy had a car and we didn't. Or maybe two guys and a girl is less awkward than one guy and a girl. I have no complaints, though, because living with Randy and Joanna was one of the most intensely enjoyable times of my life.
I'd known Randy -- we'd all three known each other -- from the previous 2 semesters in Jester dormitory. He was a fun guy, but I don't remember us being tight. We all hit it off once we were together in the apartment. For each of us, it was the first time living on our own. We were giddy. Frankly, we were a laugh riot -- a kind of odd trio, like in the movies. We were both in love with Joanna. She enjoyed spurning our romantic enticements. Randy and I got along like best friends.
The anecdote.
I don't remember how Randy and I both ended up with tickets to the Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers show at the Frank Erwin Center. Maybe he'd intended to go with someone else, and that had fallen through. In any case, Randy probably deserves the credit/blame for converting me from a casual Dylan listener to a dyed in the wool fan. For example, he showed me how I could learn to play "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts" because it only had 3 chords (and 12 verses).
We went to the show, which was scheduled for the early evening. Many of the songs were unfamiliar to me and the acoustics at the Erwin Center were terrible, so I couldn't make out the lyrics to many of the songs. At subsequent Dylan shows, that would not be an issue, as I'd know most of the lyrics to most of his songs.
The show must have let out early, because we had time to go skulking around the nearby university campus. We probably went to the Cactus Cafe, a campus bar featuring live music -- usually small acoustic acts. We most likely drank a few. Afterward, as we made our way back to the arena parking lot, we came upon a tall cinder block wall. I don't remember what was on the other side of the wall, but we undertook to scale it as if there was a dorm full of desperate coeds on the other side. Come to think of it, it may have been a campus police station.
We nearly made it to the top. Then we heard a police cruiser's PA, "all right, come down off the wall." I don't remember getting into too much trouble over the matter. Randy probably charmed the cop out of giving us much grief and we continued on our way to the parking lot.
Finally, as we were driving away, we saw a touring bus pull to a stop at the intersection of Red River and MLK. It had to be either Dylan's bus or Petty's. Remarkably, we saw (in silhouette) a lanky figure, with a huge mop of curly hair, standing at the front of the bus. Dylan? We agreed, most likely, yes.
As the bus turned onto MLK we turned after it. The back of the bus said "Buffalo Springfield." Dylan bought Buffalo Springfield's tour bus? It turned north onto Interstate 35, towards Waco. We followed. We didn't know why, but better to follow it and formulate a plan than to just let it go. It sped up. A couple of other cars, besides ours, were in pursuit. We still had no plan, but we just didn't want to let the moment go. It sped up more. 90 miles per hour (that was one fast bus). Maybe we didn't want to let the evening go. Our car started to run out of breath. Maybe we thought it wasn't worth getting into an accident just to pursue Buffalo Springfield's tour bus.
Maybe I didn't want to let the summer go.
The remainder.
Randy left for New Orleans after the first summer session. I should have been happy to have Joanna to myself, but it wasn't the same. It's a cliche, but us three together were greater than the sum of each us in part. Randy and I drifted apart over the next couple of years. Then he left Austin. I saw him once, some years later. Joanna and I cooled, but continued to see each other infrequently over the years.
Dylan's still touring.
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