K.C. archives

official site banner

K.C. Archives

You currently have 3 letters archived!

June 14, 2003....."Midway Memories"

Welcome to your very first Kimmers online letter, Mr. C! The picture of you in the banner is from a 1982 cover of Hit Parader magazine; you and Gary Richrath posed together. I scanned the whole cover, then I cropped you out in Photoshop. I think you might have enjoyed that part of the process just a liiiiiiitle too much. Is that why you grin so darn much?? Hehehehehe!! But I digress....on with the show!!

I read your newsletter on speedwagon.com where you talked about flying into Midway Airport on the 2003 tour, and how it played a pivotal role in your Oak Lawn upbringing. So I know you'll appreciate hearing the story of my first visit to Midway. Mind you, if I were telling you this story in person, it would be much more animated, with dramatic voice inflections and hand gestures, but in writing, you'll have to use your imagination (which, knowing how you think, could be dangerous! Hehehehe). As a Chi-town native, I project that you will feel incredibly studly as you witness the slow deflowering of a Midway virgin.

I flew into Midway en route to the first REO fan convention in Merrillville, Indiana, in August, 1998. From Midway, I had to transfer to a Tri State bus for the drive to Merrillville, with a layover in Hammond, Indiana. I had called Tri State before I left home, to ask them where I had to go to catch my bus. They said, and I quote, "Oh, it's a really small airport. You'll have no problem finding us. Just go to door L-8."

The words really small airport conjured up an image in my mind of a peashooter-sized executive airport, where there's only room for 2 puddle jumpers to take off at a time. Since I had to schlep through two major airports already, this news was a welcome relief. I was stoked!

The other thing you need to know is that I have a bad habit of overpacking when I travel, even for short trips, because I have this fear of needing something, and not having it, and being so far from home. Maybe it helps me feel more secure.

After enduring Orlando X and Hartsfield X with my overpacked carry on bags, I arrived at Midway around noon o'clock, walked down the jet bridge, down a couple short flights of steps, and out to the terminal. My flight was AirTrans, which is at the farthest end of the airport. So far, it wasn't looking too bad. And the Tri State people were right; it was a small airport.

Since the building only went one direction, I started walking that way, looking all over for door L-8, expecting to run right into it. And I walked....and I walked....and I walked.....good Lord, this airport was HUGE!! I had a shoulder bag and a regular suitcase in tow, both packed to the gills, and by the time I reached the center hub of the airport, they were feeling more like cinder blocks.

I went through the security checkpoint, and plopped down in one of the seats to rest before planning my next move. I had not seen hide nor hair of door L-8, and I was beginning to think I'd been scammed by the Tri State people.

After a few minutes, I got up, and started schlepping again. I passed the information booth, but nobody was there. Then I noticed the car rental area, and I went over to one of the clerks, plopping the cinder blocks down with a tired grunt. I had exactly fifteen minutes left before my bus left. I did notice the little blue signs posted above the door: L-15, L-16, L-17, et al, in ascending order. So at least I was headed toward something vaguely resembling a bus pick up area, even if the numbers were going the wrong way. Then again, for all I knew, I could end up in Oklahoma before I figured out where the hell door L-8 was.

"Excuse me," I said, now doin' some serious hatin' on Midway Airport. "I have to catch a Tri State bus at door L-8. Could you please tell me how to get there?"

"Certainly," the car rental dude replied. "Turn around, go to the right, past baggage claim, and door L-8 is on your right. It's not that far."

This is the part that continues to amaze me: I believed her!! Now I'm thinking, oh, it's only, like, a couple hundred yards away. After all, these doors I'm looking at now are close together.

I hoisted the cinder blocks back onto my body in a pack mule formation, and followed the car rental dude's directions around the corner to the right. Indeed, baggage claim was on the left, the little blue signs above the exit doors were in descending order, on my right: L-15.....L-14....ahhhh, this is more like it!

That was when the doors got farther apart. Where the &*$#!@ is that *&#$@!#$ door, and can these $%#&#@ bags get any heavier??!! I've already paid my dues schlepping from the AirTran terminal!! It's time to reap the rewards!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

L-13......schlepp....schlepp....schlepp.....L-12.....walk....walk....walk....I really hate Midway Airport.....those goddamn idiots at Tri State lied to me....I'm gonna call up their office as soon as I get to the &%$!@$# hotel and chew their ass for this.....IF I ever get to Merrillville, let alone the &*$@%# Star Plaza Radisson.......three minutes till my &%@! bus leaves.....AAAHHHH!!!

(100 years later...still schlepping....)

L-10......these bags are soooooo heavy......why do I pack so much shit, anyway??? I'm only staying three &*$#@! days, for cryin' out loud!.........keep pushin, Kimmer......even if you think your strength is gone, keep pushin on......Oh, yeah, you're damn right I recited those lyrics, in my brain!!.....L-9.....yessss!! Almost there now!! One more door!!

Finally, I arrived at my designated bus pick up point. Door L-8!! ***YAYYYY!!**** The driver was already loading the luggage into the storage bays under the bus. I set my cinder blocks down, boarded, and plopped tiredly in my seat, finally able to relax. But wait!! There's more to our story!!

The bus left the airport, and we made our way down Cicero Ave. I knew I was in your home turf, so I paid close attention to the sights passing by. I noticed that there were many businesses named after Oak Lawn, and I wondered if maybe we weren't driving through Oak Lawn. After reading your newsletter, where you mentioned how close Midway is to Oak Lawn, my suspicions are validated.

Once we were out on the interstate, I struck up a conversation with a lady sitting across the aisle from me. She was a Chicago native, and after I recounted my first visit to Midway, she said, "That's not so bad. Midway's the smaller airport, compared to O'Hare."

I was intrigued, needless to say. We went our separate ways in Hammond, and I transferred to another bus to get to Merrillville. I was the only passenger on board, so I sat up in the front and talked to the driver the whole time. Mostly, we commiserated about our experiences dealing with the public in a service capacity. Then I told him my Midway story, and he echoed the sentiments of the lady on the first bus. NOW my wheels were really turning! I grabbed a Tri-State brochure from the wall rack next to the door, but did not look at it, because I was still shmoozing with the driver.

When we arrived in Merrillville, the Tri State bus dropped me off at a Dunkin Donuts a couple blocks from Star Plaza Radisson. From there, I would have to call the hotel and dispatch their courtesy shuttle to fetch me. This time, I knew how close the hotel was, so I wasn't anticipating a long wait.

When the courtesy shuttle arrived, I told the driver my Midway horror story. Not only did he validate everything the first two people had said, but he added extra details about how vast O'Hare Airport was. He said that you have to take a monorail from one end of the airport to the other, because it's so big, and you could get easily lost in there, and nobody would find you for hours. Yikes!! All of a sudden, Midway was starting to look pretty darn good!!

After I got settled in my room at Star Plaza, I whipped out the Tri-State brochure, to figure out my return trip's schedule. That's when I noticed the diagrams of both Midway and O'Hare, side by side, at the bottom of the page. Midway was L-shaped, about the size of a postage stamp, while O'Hare was the size of at least ten football fields!! AAAAAHHHHHH!!

Now I understood what the Tri-State people had meant when they described Midway as "a really small airport." Needless to say, no angry calls were placed, and no asses were chewed. I wouldn't really have chewed anyone out over something like that, but just thinking about it helped me vent my frustration and anger. :O)

Later on, I learned that O'Hare is the newer, shinier, more technologically advanced airport, but a lot of Chicago natives prefer Midway over O'Hare because it's a lot easier to get in and out of it with the least amount of hassle, and O'Hare is constantly crowded. Of course it is!!

On the trip home, I was happy as a clam to be reunited with "the little airport", and as soon as I got off the Tri State bus at door L-8, I breezed straight through the terminal like a seasoned pro. I had to hang out all day in the AirTran section, because I had nowhere else to go after 11 a.m. check out.

By coincidence, I ran into one of my chat page buddies who had also attended the convention the day before. We yacked for a few minutes, then he had to go catch his flight. My flight was supposed to leave around 6 p.m., but it was late due to bad weather. So me & Midway did some serious bridge building that day. And I'm no longer hatin' on it. That honor is now reserved for O'Hare. Oh, sure, if I absolutely HAD to interface with it on my next Chicago trip, I would, but why would I even want to, when I have the option of going through THE LITTLE AIRPORT??!! Suffice to say, this Midway Airport virgin has been thoroughly DEFLOWERED. *sigh*

I'm digging deep in the Kimmers bag of tricks. There's a lot of weird shit in there. Stay posted!

Back to top

June 27, 2003......"To a future filled with truth and trust"

kimmers trust affirmation

This affirmation, created by my gut instinct, gave me the balls to join the REO family in September 1995, i.e., moving from Florida to Georgia to live with Jordan (Taylor), and volunteer with REO Pals International. The miracle was/is you, Bruce, Dave, Bryan, and Neal. The last part referred to my spiritual house and my physical one; both were fraught with negative energy that I knew would not be conducive to rolling with the changes. Just like the song says, I was tired of the same old story. It was time to turn some pages.

I had a million "logical" reasons to give up, but only one to keep pushin: I wanted it, BAD. Wanting wasn't enough, though. I also had to have the balls to tune out my critics and naysayers, which took some doing, because the second they caught a whiff of my REO fever, they lined up like crows on a fence to take me out of the game, second guessing my choices, condescending to me, and undermining my credibility. I opened up a can of whoop ass on them, (figuratively speaking), packed up my shit, and politely moved my bad self to Chez Jordan. This wasn't the first time in my life I had opened up that can of whoop ass, nor will it be the last, but it was one of the most important defining moments in my life.

What happened next is a whole other talk show. Suffice to say that my simple trust affirmation applies as much today as it did seven years ago. Remember the yenta crows on the fence? I have encountered them in the REO fan world too. &%$#@!! peckerheads!! That's okay; I've opened up a can of whoop ass on them, too, in the form of this website!

My journey has been an equal mix of happy and not-so-happy experiences. I've lost a lot of rock & roll cherries, but I've also put more than a few notches on my rock & roll headboard, too. (BTW, "yenta" is a Yiddish word that means 'gossiper'...someone whose tales grow taller on down the line).

Now that we're no longer strangers, the price of poker has been raised, and I've never been so scared to go for broke. But I've never been one to take the safest path. I like surprises! (Hey, I moved to L.A., didn't I?) So, for the purposes of moving ahead of my fears, I'm going to add the following affirmations to the one I wrote in '95.

K.C. is for real. Let him be your friend. He will not hurt you.

Cerisa says the yenta fans are full of crap. It's okay to trust her.

The rest of the band likes and trusts you.

It's okay to introduce the guys to skanky Kimmers. They will like her.

It's okay to introduce the guys to vulnerable Kimmers. They will like her, too.

Like you wrote in Into The Light, "If I never lose faith, then in a way I guess I've won." I'm playing the dive bar circuit right now, schlepping to gigs in the old beat up Chevy station wagon, ducking the beer bottles being thrown onto the stage by belligerent patrons at 3 a.m., (where the hell is chicken wire when you really need it?). I don't know what the future holds for me, but I do know one thing: if I put this guitar down, if I unplug my center stage microphone, if I allow myself to give into the road burn, if I stop singing, I'm worm food.

One last thing, then I've gotta boogie. I checked out your June 26th newsletter on speedwagon.com. Wow! The fired up K.C. that I remember from the old days seems to be coming back! Good for you! (((K.C.))) The parts about mopping up buckets of rock star sweat off the stage, and you being "soaked to the bone with rock & roll" were quite manly. Woof!

But the most evocative visual for me is you checking out of the hotel wearing, quote, "only a bath towel". You didn't emphasize the word 'only' in your tome, but I had to in mine, just to make sure I'm getting an accurate mental image. Woof woof WOOF!! (Kim mops her sweaty brow).

Did anybody take any pictures, by chance? If not, I suppose I could make one up in Photoshop with some of my REO scrapbook photos, but it wouldn't be the same as the real deal. *sigh*

Chow babe!! Love ya!! xoxoxoxox

P.S. Check out "Kimmers' Newspaper Articles". They pretty much speak for themselves. Enjoy!

Back to top

July 11, 2003....Remembering "Gaz"

(((Group Kimmers hug to the entire REO family))). Please accept my condolences about Gaz's death.

I never got to meet Gaz, but I heard that he was a really nice guy who got along well with the fans. Still other reports said he was Beefboy's brother, which is easy to believe, since they did look a lot alike. If that is true, and you're still in touch with Beef, give him my love, and let him know that he is in my thoughts and prayers. The last time I saw Beef was at the House of Blooze show in Feb. 1999. He was on Dave's end of the stage, right in front of me, and when he noticed me, he shined a flashlight in my face and waved at me. I haven't shmoozed with him backstage since 1998. He had his cantankerous moments, and we locked horns from time to time, but he also had a heart of gold, and he worked so hard for you guys. I always felt a little more at home backstage as soon as I saw him.

This is the only photo I have of Gaz, from the "Arch Allies" CD liner notes. He does look a lot like Beefboy, except his forearms aren't covered in tattoos!

Having buried five of my people within the last couple of years---four family members from cancer, and my best L.A. buddy Janice from congestive heart failure---I have so much empathy for what you guys are going through right now. Whether the death is expected, like my family members who had cancer, or sudden, like Gaz & Janice, it is a major shock to the system for those of us who are left behind, and it takes time to roll with the changes. The first couple months are always the hardest. Everything feels surreal and vaguely out of sync as you adjust to the reality of them not being there anymore.

The morning after my brother Tim died, I heard a song on the radio that changed the grief process for my whole family, for the better, and it might help the REO family heal, too:"Angels In Waiting", by a country/western singer named Tammy Cochran (from her 2001 self-titled CD, released on the Sony Music/Epic label). I didn't tune into the station until the song was halfway over, but the little bit that I heard gave me goose bumps. I went right out to the nearest record store, bought the CD, and took it home to my family. As soon as they heard the song, they fell in love with it, and we played it a the funeral.

To this day, we still derive so much comfort from its simple message about what happens to people we love after they pass away. What's even more eerie is how I found out about it to begin with. I normally keep the car radio tuned to my favorite classic rock station, but this day, I was understandably restless and distracted, so I was radio station surfing as I drove. Had I flipped the dial thirty seconds later, or not stopped to listen to K92 FM when I did, the song would have been over, and we would have never known it existed. My family immediately came to the conclusion that a higher power had a hand in that process, and I agree with them 200%.

The lyric that I draw the most strength from is, "I'll give them life....I'll let them live through me." In watching my big brother go through the stages of physical death, I learned so much about how to live my life to the fullest. Life must go on, just as the show must go on.

The road will feel emptier than usual without Gaz for a while, but that's only a physical emptiness. You now have your very own rock & roll angel looking out for you, just as my angels look out for me. They will live on through us, in our hearts, minds, and souls. We are the keepers of the legacy they left behind.

All of you are in my thoughts and prayers (((Kevin))). Just take it easy, take it slow, and take care of each other. It gets easier with time, I promise. Dr. Phil says that how long or how intensely you grieve is NOT a reflection on how much you loved the person. Each of you had a different relationship with Gaz, so you'll need to reconcile his death in your own fashion, on your own timeline. But you can lean on each other for strength.

Love always,