I hate that you experienced a loss. I hate that you had to cancel your trip to Atlanta for Brian’s birthday celebration, and thus the stay you booked in my Airbnb. But instead of reselling the wristbands, you (amazingly) sent them to me.
I will be honest here: I had never been to a multistage music festival.
I really didn’t know what to expect, besides lots of music and people.
Lovejoy on the main stage: Peachtree.Here’s Spacey Jane at the Piedmont Stage.Illuminati Hotties at the Criminal Records Stage.
And among 40K people, what is the chance I would run into someone I know?
Very high, apparently.
Look: It’s Renee and Brian! Renee and I worked together in Atlanta.The swanky wristband had many perks.
One of the biggest perks to me was the use of air-conditioned bathrooms in an RV-type structure. No porta potty for this lady!
Another perk: Free beer and water.
You know what else was free? People watching.
Let me say that I have mad respect for people wearing whatever the hell they want to wear.
Unlike this brave girl, however, I prefer to keep my bum covered unless I’m at the beach. And even then not so much.
I enjoyed seeing a medley of concert and other kinds of T-shirts. This one was my favorite:
I also loved that parents brought their older children (12-16 or so). As someone who indoctrinated exposed her children to music early on, I approve. (My kids’ first concert was The Police.)
Jennifer and I packed in as many bands as we could.
Be Your Own PetCypress HillRickshaw Billie’s Burger PatrolJoey Valence & BraeThe Front BottomsTrash Panda
All put on a good show. And I know most people were there to see Muse, The Lumineers, Hozier and The Killers.
People love The Killers.
But I was there to see two artists:
Peaches, in all her weird envelope-pushing glory (Yes, that’s an outfit featuring many breasts)And Tenacious D
Those two made the festival worth it for me.
Though I’m not a fan of crowds, everyone was well-behaved.
We had a great time!
So thank you for your generosity.
I hope you will be able to make the trip next year. And if you do, I owe you a deep discount on your stay.
Mom breathes in that new-baby smell.I was a daddy’s girl. Completely.I know I don’t seem happy and grateful in this photo, but I was. Later. 😉
I loved them and didn’t dwell on the thought of my birth family.
However, I will cop to entertaining fantasies of being surprise royalty. You know, “Princess Diaries” style.
We were the only ones in Atlanta. Dad’s family was in Pennsylvania/New Jersey and Mom’s in Missouri. (This becomes important in the next installment.)
We visited each family roughly every other year. I read books in the back of the car and alternately wanted a sibling and was glad I didn’t have one.
I grew up. Went to college. Graduated. Worked in journalism. Got the letter. Put the letter away. Started dating Eddie. Got married. Had kids. Searched their faces for any scrap of me. Found very little. (Eddie’s genes are strong.)
But sometimes it was there.
Gideon stars as the saddest baby in the world.The only pic of Dominic where I can actually see a little of me.
My parents were always there. Rock solid.
But they didn’t take care of themselves. Their health declined. Mom passed in 2009, Dad in 2017.
For Christmas 2017, Eddie got me the best gift ever — a gift that keeps on giving.
Not only did Laura know who my mother was, but she was going to see her the following month. I learned I had a half brother and sister.
So that was … a lot.
Laura met up with Kathleen and gave her photos of me and my family, along with my contact information.
For her it was … a lot.
Time passed as we both adjusted to the idea.
On this exact day (New Year’s Eve) in 2019, I decided my New Year’s resolution would be to write to my birth mother. I used my good stationery and employed my best handwriting. Sent it off once the holidays died down.
A few days later — Jan. 15, 2020 to be exact — I got a call from a Missouri number I didn’t recognize. I didn’t answer it for three reasons:
As many of you know, I’m adopted. I was adopted when I was about six weeks old. (“Fresh baby! Get her while she’s pink!) I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents said they would help me look for my birth family when I was ready.
I was never ready when they were alive.
It felt like it would be disrespectful to them to search. Also, what if my birth mother hadn’t told anyone about me? Showing up on her doorstep would be a bit of a surprise — and likely not in a Prize Patrol kind of way.
I had great parents. Howard and Jeanne loved me, and I loved them. I had a normal middle-class childhood: We lived in a standard subdivision of ’70s split levels (say that three times fast) outside of Atlanta, and I went to public schools but a private college (scholarship, FTW!). We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor. No abuse. (Unless you count all those times I got whacked with a fly swatter because of my smart mouth. And I certainly don’t.)
Some of my friends were adopted too, and we commiserated about what it must be like to actually look like someone else or see some of your behaviors handed down from a parent. My parents often looked at me like I was a zoo animal because I had so much more energy than they did. They were sedentary people. And y’all know I am … not.
Still, my friends weren’t so keen to search either. It’s a big thing. Rejection looms large.
All I knew about my birth mother was that she was a very young college student and didn’t feel she could care for me at the time.
When I left college myself and started thinking about starting a family, I wrote to the adoption agency to see if I could get any medical information. It felt important to find out if I had a family history of cancer, heart disease, diabetes (“The Shugahs” if you are from the South), etc.
They sent back a few pages of typed social information: birth parents’ first names, general background, number of siblings, physical features, college education, circumstances surrounding my conception and birth, etc.
Then, the kicker:
My people, I was not ready for that. I folded that little letter back up and tucked it into a file folder. There it stayed for nearly two decades.
And even now as I try to explain what has been going on over the past few years, I realize I have to stop here for now.
This feels like a four-part series: Beginning (this part), Discovery, Meeting Mom, Meeting Dad.
Gideon left his glasses at a friend’s house. Friend and friend’s mom sent them back via UPS. They never arrived. Tracking number came up as “invalid” on phone searches. A computer search turned it up in Alpharetta. Where? I don’t know. This is all the information I had:
Left at the front desk WHERE in Alpharetta? Friend and mom shipped from Brookhaven to Gideon in Savannah! (Note: Brookhaven is 20 miles away from Alpharetta, and both are more than 270 miles from Savannah.)
So I filed a claim.
A month went by with no answer.
I emailed you.
This is what you said:
Shan K., I can ASSURE you it was not delivered to the address.
I wrote back. (I TRIED to call, but was hung up on TWICE.)
Then Ana Z got involved.
The delivery address was correct. I confirmed that with friend and friend’s mom and THE ACTUAL RECEIPT.
They sent it from Brookhaven. The package ended up in Alpharetta.
There are EIGHT UPS stores in Alpharetta.
I called ALL EIGHT stores looking for a Richard who was working there in March. The LAST store I called was the only one with a Richard. He happened to be working when I called.
Oh, yeah. It’s right here.
He confirmed that the address was correct. And then CHARGED me to have it resent.
Why? Because the package was sent originally from a different store. UPS stores are franchises. So Alpharetta is not responsible for Brookhaven.
So to recap:
The first driver was lazy as hell. (Mailing address was accurate.)
The claims process is a joke. (No updates/information.)
Your customer service is beyond laughable. (Didn’t actually do anything and gave conflicting information.)
I’m out $11.68 and time out of my life to deal with this hassle. (Evidence of your sucktitude.)
I paid the ransom money, and it arrived Friday.
YOU should have tracked down this package for me. I should not have had to call EIGHT stores to find one with an employee named Richard. And I want my $11.68 back.
After all you put me through You’d think I’d despise you But in the end, I wanna thank you ‘Cause you made me that much stronger.
I met up with someone recently who knew you when you were just starting out. You did the same thing to that person that you did to me.
So I know it wasn’t personal: You’ve got a history. A pattern. A way. It’s like that parable (and song) about the snake: “You knew I was a snake when you took me in.”
It’s sad, really.
It’s hard enough for women to succeed without other women dragging them down.
Being in a leadership role is not like having pie: Some for me doesn’t mean less for you.
Anyway. Our circles no longer intersect, and now I’m better off.
If you hadn’t made my life miserable, I wouldn’t have focused on finding new opportunities. And I now love my job.
Thanks for going on a road trip with me to bring Eddie some stuff that ended up with me in St. Louis.
It was a great bonding experience for you and your new brother.
It took nearly 16 hours of driving (should have been 12), but we made it manageable with stops in Chattanooga (no time for towing, sadly) and Atlanta (so you could harass all your school friends).
Barb the Minivan (rental) served us well. She was spacious enough to allow for a litter box for Leo’s bathroom breaks.
It turns out that he’s good on car trips.
Just so everyone knows, I don’t usually put clothes on pets. But Leo is naked, and it was cold when we left St. Louis.
So thank you for making the trip with Leo and me. Next time, I promise we will stop in at a ridiculous museum that will amuse us both.
“But wait, Beth,” you might say. “Haven’t they been a band for years? Haven’t they released songs?”
Well, yes to both. But this is their first ALBUM. The others were EPs.
Now, I’ve reviewed books, movies, plays/musicals, performances, etc., but I’ve never reviewed an album before.
But like an antivaxxer who knows ALL ABOUT the danger of the COVID vaccine thanks to his YouTube research, I’m going to act like an expert.
This is a great album — their best work to date.
Let me give you a frame of reference for my taste: Of their EPs, I’m partial to “Strange Alchemy.” Specifically the title track.
So let’s get to it. The debut features 10 tracks plus a special “secret” track, which is not so secret, clearly. (Why isn’t it 13? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.)
Bad Decisions
Free Thinker
Down Again
Long Time Coming
Fyre!
Thirteen Steps
Jajvam
The One
Hollow Throne
Anubis
SYCM (aforementioned “secret track.”)
Bad Decisions
I feel like this is “my” song. My oft-used phrase “bad decisions make good stories” was, I’ve been told, the inspiration for the title. And the song is about bad decisions the guys made during their U.S. tour: Too much beer on the plane for Nick, too much tequila on stage for Rob, too much ALL THE ALCOHOL for Si in Savannah. The chorus even references what you do with a tequila shot. (“Lick it. Down it. Suck it. Wooo!”)
Photo evidence of debauchery:
I know you want to look at Si’s tongue. Don’t. Look at Rob’s dead eyes.Look at Rob’s tequila sweats.In addition to looking vaguely like Papa Smurf, Si has the dead eyes like Rob.
I don’t have photos of Drunk Nick, sadly. I wasn’t on the plane.
Anyway, the song. It kicks off the album with a bang. The main riff vaguely resembles the theme from “The Munsters,” so I’m a fan. Si has a fantastic voice, but here he screams like Steven Tyler. That’s great, if that’s your thing.
Free Thinker
This is the song for the antivaxxer mentioned who will think the guys agree with him. (Hint: They don’t.) It’s a critical COVID anthem.
Down Again
“Free Thinker” segues nicely into “Down Again.” And it’s catchy as all hell. It’s been in my head every morning this week. This could and should get radio play.
Long Time Coming
The lyrics make me think someone in the band is getting a divorce. (What’s going on, guys?) Again, catchy as hell. Accessible to people who like rock, pop, alternative. Also could and should get radio play.
Fyre!
No one likes a KISS soundalike song more than I do, so this is a song for me. I want them to wear fancy pants and big boots and play this in a stadium full of fans, all of whom are yelling “Fyre! Fyre! Fyre! at the chorus. “Burn baby, burn.”
Thirteen Steps
The title track is a heavy-as-balls concoction that references 13 steps to the gallows. Grim. But the song is a banger.
Jajvam
What the heck does that mean? A Google search says it’s Klingon for “Today is a good day to die.” Delightful! “Jajvam” hearkens back to JD’s first EP “Metadome.” And it would be a great song on that EP. Here it is overshadowed by everything else. Sorry. It’s just that the others rock SO HARD. (To be fair, I saw them do this live, and it killed.)
The One
This will kill live too. I want them to play it after “Fyre!” It’s an energetic and infectious rock song.
Hollow Throne
The opening riff sounds like a mix of Yes’ “Owner of a Lonely Heart” and the soundtrack to a whodunit. This, “The One” and “Thirteen Steps” are, in my opinion, the heaviest on the album. But they still are accessible to pop-lovers like myself. We’re not talking Slipknot* heavy.
Anubis
Like “Down Again” and “Long Time Coming,” “Anubis” feels commercial. I could hear this on any number of my Sirius presets. It also sounds like a divorce song. (Seriously guys: Are you OK?) That said, it feels optimistic. It connects the whole album together and ends it on a high note.
Oh, but wait.
SYCM
It’s an acoustic amuse-bouche. Why here (this position and at all)? I’ll probably never listen again. I’m so sorry. I’m honest to a fault. I hope the guys will still love me. 😉😘
Anyway, the album rocks your face off the whole way through. No real ballads here, which is fine by me. It’s already pushed out “Strange Alchemy” as my favorite release of theirs.
So, be a trendsetter: Download the album on your favorite streaming service today! If you like it, spread the word and buy some merch.
*Look. Listen. I know there’s way heavier stuff than Slipknot. Not for me. This is as far as I go. You know my taste!
I’m so glad I learned to drive in Atlanta where Nascar has nothing on I-285. If I hadn’t, there’s no way I would have been prepared for you.
Perhaps you didn’t get any drivers education. Let me help.
Pro Tip 1 People getting onto the highway need to be able to merge. Let them in, for crying out loud!
Pro Tip 2 When someone has his/her/their turn signal on, that means the person wants to get over. Oh but wait, none of you seems to know what that is.
Pro Tip 3 The turn signal is a lever on your steering wheel that, when activated, lets other drivers know you want to make a turn or get into a different lane. You are in the Show Me state, so show me your freakin’ turn signal.
Pro Tip 4 It’s helpful to other drivers for you to pick a lane and STAY IN IT. Weaving in and out is annoying and dangerous.
Pro Tip 5 The posted speed limit is not a suggestion. It’s the max. It’s right there on the sign!
Maybe y’all drive this way to avoid all the potholes and road damage.
Seriously, these roads are about as bad as the ones I had the misfortune of driving in Antigua. That’s saying something.
Please, for the love of God, think of your fellow drivers.
Observe and report 