The O-town Scene

A7 I have about 50 Facebook "friends." I also have about 50 real-life friends. I distinguish between the two using criteria that basically states that if we are friends in real life, we may also be Facebook "friends"; however, if we are Facebook "friends" only, we may not be friend friends at all. I am pleased (and pressured by a dead- line) to share my criteria with you today. (And for the rest of March 2014.) If we were friends in high school, we are not friends now unless we have commu- nicated at least once since then outside of Facebook (e.g.: email, phone, supervised visitation, Christmas card, etc.). If we were friends in college, ibid. Un- less we were theater friends and then you should know that I am following your every performance, reading, production, etc. If you are famous, know that we share a spe- cial connection given that you are reading this in print which means that, to you, I am a published writer destined for some degree of notoriety as well. (Oh sure, this paper is free, but last time I checked you could still sneak into a Broadway show during intermission.) If you and I have shared food and drinks together, or just drinks, or drinks and shots or shots and beers or just beers and a jukebox stacked with The Ramones, we are friends. If we danced, we may even be best friends. If you have invited me to a jewelery, kitchen gadget, wine, essential oil, handbag or adult toy party, you don't even know what I'm about. (Also I find the kitchen gadget party insulting.) Friends don't let friends pay to pamper. If you are my friend and you need to be pampered, tell me. I will come and change your oil, clean your oven or simply listen, straight away. If all else fails, tell me you need money. Don't "invite" me to a "party" and then try to sell me a cooling rack; I'm not even sure what one does with a cool- ing rack. Modify the temperature of warm things, I'm guessing. Just call or text me and I'll bring some wine; we ARE a party. (Why anyone would clean the oven instead of ordering take-out is mystifying. And if you know me at all, you know that I am not easily mystified. Distracted, yes. Mystified? Look, something shiny! Where was I?) If we have attended the birth of each oth- er's child, held each other's clammy, vomit- streaked head out of the toilet or cleaned each other's bathroom (without judging), we are lifers and the offer of an oil change (wiper blades optional) stands eternally. If we have gone to concerts or funerals, gone camping or just peed outside together, we are friends. If we have an expression or joke that only we understand and even we don't think is funny anymore but we say it anyway because of some unwritten pact or code, we are most certainly friends. For example: if you use the word "hand" in a sentence, I am obligated to follow with "people on ludes should not drive" because Mr. Hand totally rocks "Fast Times At Ridgemont High." (Side note: "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" is often confused with "The Breakfast Club" because both films were released in the 1980s and both films cast 35-year-olds in the role of a high school student — Sean Penn and Judd Nelson, respectively.) If we have picked each other up at the air- port, police station, hospital or ashram, one of us owns a car and, also, we are friends. If you have dared me to post or share something on FB (even if for only an hour) or insinuated that I am not brave enough to post or share something — get lost. Friends don't dare. Friends do it first to make sure that it's safe — especially if it involves rum and/or fireworks. Finally, friends tell you when there's a line. Good friends tell you when you've crossed it. And if you're Jennifer, you are friend enough to tell me that "just because you wore it the first time around, doesn't mean you can wear it now." (Although in this case I believe that she has forgotten how time- less jeans, baggy flannel and Doc Martens look.) P.S.: Pearl Jam called. They said to get over it. Renee Nied writes about parenting, food, David Lynch and other important subjects from her home in Schoharie County at freshairand- sarcasm.com. "Friends" vs. Friends To truly know and feel music, to fall in love with it, one must build a relationship with it. Like any other relationship, it takes time. I'm sure we've all been there — putting on a vinyl record, a cassette tape, or a CD and listening to the album on repeat until you know every word, every drum roll, and every guitar riff. It's a relationship that will stick with you for life. I've personally done this with many artists. Two of my first albums were Pink Floyd's double disc "The Wall" and Notori- ous BIG's "Life After Death." I still have them committed to memory, and I can still picture my young self with a CD Walkman where it all began during recess. My latest obsession has been with the 12-time Grammy winner and two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee Paul Simon. Paul Simon is a representation of timelessness, his career being one of the most successful in the music industry, spanning decades and touching millions of fans. Originally known as half of the 60s duo Simon and Garfunkel, Simon proved with his solo career to be one of the few that matched or surpassed the glory of his early days. Last September, I decided I would im- merse myself in his work. I started with his solo album "Graceland" and Simon and Garfunkel's live album "The Concert in Central Park," which was attended by more than half a million people. "Grace- land" is set to a walking beat; it will constantly keep you moving and groov- ing, while the live "Central Park" album is stocked full of emotion from the perfor- mance and energy from the crowd. I found drifting off into space while in conversation with friends or colleagues. As they would continue to ramble on, I would be picturing the music video for the "Graceland" hit, "You Can Call Me Al." For those of you who are not familiar with the video, it's one of the most famous ever. It features the legendary actor Chevy Chase along with Simon in a white room with Chase signing the entire song while Si- mon looks at him like he stole his thunder. I was so far into it that I had to see Paul Simon live. But, when would he tour again? By November, Simon announced he would tour the most popular vocalists of his time, Sting. Perfect, I thought. I've yet to cross Sting off my musical bucket list too, so I've got a two-birds-with-one- stone situation at hand. Could it get any better? As life often does when you believe it will, it did. They were scheduled to play in my backyard on March 6! No, not the back yard of my residence. I travel so much for music that I consider New York as whole as my home, and any performance that happens in it is in my backyard. Even if it's the biggest stage on earth, Madison Square Garden. MSG holds a special place in my heart; I spent my past four New Years Eve's there. I needed tickets and nothing would stop me. I finally got one via Paul Simon's fan pre-sale. It was magical, like I'd been dealt a royal flush; and perhaps I had been. As icing on the cake, the New York show sold out instantly, so quick they booked another in MSG the same week. Did I manifest this? Did all my hoping, dream- ing, and positivity light the way for the great Paul Simon? Then I heard that Paul Simon was coming to Cooperstown this year for the National Baseball Hall of Fame's 75th anniversary celebration. Cooperstown is much more literally my back yard. I spent five years working there, and countless summers on beautiful Otsego Lake. Because of its popularity, when people ask when I'm from with no familiarity to the area, the answer is Cooperstown. I'm from baseball country. The irony was now too much to brush off; now it was fate. I'd manifested Paul Simon in my backyard. Although each path is different, collec- tively, we now have Paul Simon to give us a memorable performance that will stick in our heads just like the walking beat of "Graceland." Whatever it is you're hoping for in life, don't disregard it; know in your heart and in your soul that, like a good boy or girl on Christmas, if you remain positive, fate may have a present for you around the corner. Chad Ritchko prob- ably wouldn't mind if you call him Al. He is also I.T. manager at The Daily Star. He can be reached at critchko @thedailystar.com. Manifest Your Destiny A7 Fresh Air & Sarcasm By Renee Nied The IT Guy By Chad Ritchko March 6, 2014 O-Town Scene 7

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