eddie from ohio journal July 12, 2004

Thrills, Theft & Thermostat Knobs

Betcha never saw that alliteration combination before, yet it's the best way to describe the action-packed week of EFO following the Fourth of July weekend.

On the Tuesday, Robbie & I made a private pilgrimage to New England. For years, I've vowed to take BoSox savant Schaefer to the team's legendary ballpark for a game (He had never been!). This was our year. Flying to Manchester, NH, we met up with our old Concord-based pal, Chris, whose law firm has season tickets. A quick commute to Fenway afforded us the chance to partake in all the fine pre-game traditions: choking on bratwurst, choosing between Bud or Bud Lite, decoding the thick Bostonian accent of vendors, tormenting the surviving relatives of Bill Buckner, debating who's stronger: Ted Williams or Superman, and of course, grumbling about the Yankees.

In addition to an entertaining 11-0 rout over the visiting Oakland A's, there were numerous highlights - some I even remember. A game-long wager involving outfielders and betting on their performance (catching & batting) resulted in a wad of one dollar bills in my shirt pocket reminiscent of my pizza delivery days. I blew it all on monkey nuts and beer. What a country! We also had two major celebrity sightings: Soccer sensation, Mia Hamm, was souvenir shopping. She is the wife of Red Sox shortstop, NOMAH Garciaparra. Also present was actor/hometown hero, Matt Damon. He is the wife of outfielder Johnny Damon. Had anyone recognized Robbie or myself for our high profile personas in the Folk Music World, that could've also counted as a celebrity spotting. No such luck.

Beautiful weather. Good company. The Sox win. Let's go bowling! A gregarious friend of Chris', David, talked us into a couple frames at the chic neighboring fern bar/bowling lanes. My score was remarkable. It would've been even more remarkable had I been golfing.

Robbie & I downgraded to ground transportation to meet up with the band in NYC on Wednesday, and who downgrades better on the ground than GREYHOUND? (Leave the whining to us). It's really not that different from flying, but gone are the pleasantries from the cockpit. Instead, we heard over the intercom at the outset of the 6 hour journey: "My name is David....keep yo conversations to a minimum ... If you are talkin on yo cell phone, hang up .... If I have to ask you twice to turn down yo stereo, I will take it .... Thanks for riding the 'Hound." I'm now convinced that the Greyhound lavoratory is, in fact, the official portal to Hell.

New York, New York. After a Mach One taxi tear down Park Avenue we arrived at the venue, Joe's Pub. I've lost count of how many NYC rooms we've played, but this was one of the better ones. After two weeks off, I was pretty juiced for playing, but the evening was unfortunately marred by the theft of our merchandise money pouch. Somewhere between our two shows, someone decided to make us 500 dollars poorer. Oh well. To the thief: If you're out there and reading our website (you may have bought a computer with your new found fortune, who knows?), God Bless you, you enterprising entremanure. Why even Donald Trump wouldn't have the heart to fire you with your cunning fiscal sensibilities. Looking for work? Look no further than EFO for a letter of reference. Just give us a call. I wish I could just give you a cyber noogie right now, ya ole rascal. Now get outta here, ya nut! I think you just stole my heart, too. Clepto-freak.

On the Thursday off, Robbie & I headed to a recording studio in Bethesda, MD to do some spoken word ads for our upcoming Wolf Trap show (Aug 28). Running on two hours sleep, you can really get a smoky, sultry tone to your voice that would even make Bob Edwards blush. So THAT's how the FM jocks do it! ---- that and three Lucky Strike packs a day.

Friday, we returned for the second time to the lovely PA-township of Greensburg. An hour east of Pittsburgh, this Allegheny town serves up a wonderful free concert series to the public, held in a former cemetery. You'd think that would make for a morbid experience, but it's actually quite enchanting, plus the tombstones are ideal backrests for the elderly. Thanks, Gene James & co. Same time next year?

Oh yeah, the thermostat knob reference has to do with the name of the ampitheatre: Robertshaw (a renown brand name of therm. knobs). It could make for some new idiom, or street slang jive: "You really twist my Robertshaw, dude." Discuss.

These journal entries might not be entertaining, but at least they're educational. Stay in school, kids.

After so much tomfoolery with Robbie, over the course of the past few days, I've felt a sense a duty to spend quality time with my other band mates, as to not show favoritism. They really fight over my affection, you know. Today, I did some recording at Eddie's awesome home studio, and on Saturday I crashed Julie's neighborhood block party and drank all her red wine after her older Forest Gumpette sister spanked me in Ping Pong. It's important to spread the love.

Album nine is still in the works, and we can't wait to get it to your platters, and perhaps twist your Robertshaws,
MC MC