For The Record- 30. March. 2024
I'm goin' to Jackson and that's a fact
Welcome to another edition of For The Record, the weekly newsletter that brings the world of music news straight to your inbox. Part essay, part good old-fashioned link drop, this is a benefit for paid supporters of On Repeat.
On Repeat is 100% reader-funded. You can back independent ad-free music journalism for less than $1 a week.
This week, we’ve got news on Modest Mouse, MJ Lenderman, and Joni Mitchell.
All that and a LOT more, including Ice Cube’s offer to Caitlin Clark, a killer cover of ‘Wish,’ and dispatches from the Mars Hotel.
Let’s get to it!
📻📻📻
Note: A few of you may have seen this before. I first published it on Medium and was reminded of it this week when various state lotteries came up at work, and people were surprised to learn that you can play Keno in Oregon gas stations. This past week also marked 3 years since my grandmother shuffled off this mortal coil. The universe was trying to tell me something (that’ll make more sense further down the page).
KA—
This is a story about coffee, state-sponsored gambling, and a life well-lived. It’s the story of Rose Shelton. Many knew her as a coworker and mentor. Others likely can’t recall her name but remember her influence on their lives. Everyone knew her as a bright light.
I knew her as my grandmother.
In basketball, the sixth man is usually the best player, not in the starting five. They can score but are also used when the team needs a spark. They’re both catalysts and playmakers. They may be in a supporting role, but the starters are better players because of them.
Off the court, we often have a roster of 6th men and/or women who give us a boost. We don’t always give it much thought, but take the time to think about it, and you’ll see they’re everywhere.
There are the obvious ones, such as a partner or spouse. Your “ride or die” friends make the cut, too. If you really want to get in the weeds, we can talk about the barista who makes your coffee every day. You couldn’t make it without them, right? But go a little deeper, and you’ll see people like coaches who gave you just the boost you needed right when you needed it.
We celebrated my grandmother’s life last month. It was a small affair (thanks, COVID!), packed with the fond memories and the sorts of stories you’d expect from a life well-lived. It was, well, sentimental.
People talked about how she taught them to dance. I, too, learned while standing on her feet as she guided me around her living room. We usually listened to Dean Martin.
Others noted that she gave them their first job at the department store where she worked for many years. I knew she’d worked there and had a vague idea that she worked in the back.
What I didn’t know until the service was that she’d worked her way up to credit manager and, in turn, had used that position to extend 100s of women their first lines of credit. That might be fairly routine today, but in the 1950s and ’60s, it was unheard of—women often still needed a husband or other man to cosign for them.
Sure, some of these ladies just used it to buy a dress or two, and that was that. But for many, this simple act was the first empowering step on the road to financial independence.
They just needed someone to believe in them.
In 1998, I took a company transfer from Portland, Oregon, to Memphis. It was a big move, literally, metaphorically, and geographically. Making this jump was a springboard to a career that continues 25+ years later.
Our contract provided up to 5 days paid to relocate, which was paid retroactively. In the meantime, I was left scrambling to pay to get there—early 20s me didn’t do a whole lot of advance planning.
In those days, I would take my grandmother on her weekly errand run, which included buying her lottery tickets and playing Keno. She would have a cup of coffee, dust a Marlboro or two, and “yell” at the monitors. That week, she gave me $20 with a mandate that I play video poker. “You’re gonna hit; I can feel it,” she said.
She had faith. She believed.
I’m not a man of faith, but I sat at the service and listened politely to ‘Amazing Grace,’ and a couple of other standard-issue hymnals. When the pastor announced that we’d end with one more song, I groaned a little inside. But a strange thing happened as the first few notes of Doris Day’s Sentimental Journey filled the chapel; people started quietly singing along. I looked around and saw a lot of smiles.
Just as she’d have wanted it.
My grandmother had 8 lives and lived them all at 150 mph. Through it all, she swore by two principles: trust the universe and be nice. In practical terms, the latter meant adding extra time to any outing. We couldn’t go anywhere without her either running into an old friend or making a new one. Zooming out a little, it means leaving the world a little better than you found it. A little belief in others goes a long way — at home or at work.
It’s a safe bet that my grandmother never touched a basketball in her 97 years. But like the proverbial 6th man, she spent her time making sure those around her were just a little better off.
She may have left us, but not before defying her nurses and hanging on for an extra day…because that’s just how she was. She lived life on her own terms and pulled up anyone lucky enough to enter her orbit. If there’s a lesson here, maybe it’s that we should follow her example. That's no easy feat in 2021, making it more urgent than ever.
Wherever she is, I hope the coffee’s on, her numbers come in, and her dance card’s full.
As for my playing that $20? That worked out pretty well.
And now for some links:
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to On Repeat Records to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.