Misty Water-Colored Memories – Episode 7: “Low Rider”

As the title suggests, this series on Dubsism is about how we all have songs inextricably linked in our minds to certain memories. Among advanced-theory psychologists, molecular neurobiologists, and other extreme brainiacs, the prevailing opinion has been the nose is the most common trigger of memories.  But what do they know? 

Brainiac that out all you want; this is all about memories being a vector for story-telling. Instead of taking the nasal route to the brain. I’m using music as the means for getting to the memories. If that doesn’t explain my cribbing a bad line from a Barbra Streisand ear-worm to make that point, so be it. After all, don’t even try to lie.  We all have those memories; the difference is I’m willing to share mine.

Today’s trip back in musical time means a second trip for the Wayback Machine to the mid-2000s. Just as in that tale, the setting is in northern city with an even more northern climate. As such, it’s a place where winter temperatures often plunge below zero, snow falls can be measured with a yardstick, and both the original inhabitants and the local football team share the description “Vikings.”

Just like that story, this one’s setting is in the same workplace. This was in an era when this company was nationwide, but still really just an overgrown “Mom ‘N’ Pop” operation. This was in an era when there was a familial bond amongst the employees; in fact, the genesis of this installment is one such co-worker telling me of the passing of another.

But rather that delve into that darkness, I’d rather use music to light a candle. Fittingly, Dan Giliuson was the match lighting this story. Oddly enough at this time of year with “March Madness” right around the corner, basketball was our first connection. When I was a kid, “hoops” was my first love as a sport to play, largely because it was never farther way than the hoop in my driveway. I spent hours perfecting my impression of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s “Skyhook,” which was the most unstoppable offensive weapon in the entirety of basketball history. The problem was I didn’t grow into that sleek, seven-foot body. Instead, I became a thick-necked brute more suited for throwing the shot put, the offensive line, or the Marine Corps. But that didn’t take away my fandom of the game.

This was when I found out Dan was a scholarship hoopster in college, where he got the credentials to be a teacher and a basketball coach. The first time I got an inkling as to his coaching mettle came right about this time of year in the run-up to March Madness.

If you were watching college hoops about 20 years ago, you might recognize this guy. If not, that’s Adam Morrison, who was one of the biggest names in college basketball at the time. The guy was a scoring machine, and the common opinion was that Morrison was destined for big things in the National Basketball Association (NBA).

Dan did not share this sentiment.

“I don’t get that guy. He takes too many bad shots, he doesn’t rebound, and he doesn’t move without the ball. That’s never going to work in the pros!”

To the not-nearly-as-well-trained eye, I’d never really noticed that until Dan said it. He wasn’t wrong. That became quickly apparent when Morrison was drafted by the NBA’s Charlotte Bobcats with the third overall pick. When you are selected that high, you’re supposed to be a star.

He wasn’t.

Adam Morrison also isn’t the point here. It’s what Dan and I were doing at the time. We worked together in a medical equipment company, and we ended up with a project which required the assembly of somewhere around 200 IV poles. Instead of delegating this task to a couple of “worker bees,” we decided to pound them out ourselves.

This proved to be a tedious process; imagine assembling a coffee table you bought from Ikea. Now picture the table being made of industrial grade stainless steel, and after you have one done, you still have 199 or so to go.

It takes no time to realize that while in such an undertaking, you have to do something to cut the monotony…and you can only talk about basketball for so long. Somewhere along the line, at about the point where the drudgery starts making one a bit punchy, today’s title song popped up on the radio.

If you know this song, you are familiar with it’s signature horn riff (if you’re not, it’s at 0:54 in the video). Either way, it’s also doesn’t take long to know that riff is repeated multiple times. Well, on the first one, Dan busts out a “whoopie-cushion-ish,” pursed-lip version along the lines of “BBBBRRRRRRRRRTTT-BBRRT-BBRRT-BRRRT!” One the second time, I join in. In less than sixty seconds, it became a contest to see who could out-BBBBRRRRRRRRRTTT the other.

We got so into our own caterwauling we didn’t notice the song ended. By then, we had created our own concerto for socket wrench, rubber mallet, and BBBBRRRRRRRRRTTT. We created such a racket somebody poked their head through the door and wondered if we had paid a visit to the liquor store across the street.

Last week, that same person who wondered if we got hammered while hammering out 200 IV poles informed me of Dan’s passing. To this day, I can’t hear that song without belting out a good ol’ “BBBBRRRRRRRRRTTT-BBRRT-BBRRT-BRRRT!”

That’s why while I’m sure his spirit is headed for a higher place, to me Dan Giliuson will always be a “Low Rider.”

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You can see all the Misty Water-Color Memories here.

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