Ashland: Agriculture, Academics, Athletics, Art, and Audio

I am what you might call an audiophile, a person who is passionate about hi-fidelity sound reproduction of music. It all began when I was a kid, listening to records on my mother’s sofa-sized hi-fi console. I’m lucky enough to still own most of Mom’s vinyl collection, which I play from time to time on my own sofa-sized hi-fi that I bought at a garage sale a few years ago for twenty bucks. (Best twenty bucks I ever spent.)

I actually own three record players including one that was handed down to me by my mother-in-law and another by my stepmother. (I used to own a fourth phonograph, a unit that once belonged to my grandparents, but it is now spinning discs in record player heaven—hopefully for my grandparents.)

My Magnavox hi-fi is a model that was produced back in the 1960s, and all four of its original speakers still work well. However, I felt compelled to make a few upgrades. After removing the back panel, I discovered there was plenty of room inside the console to add a few more speakers. So, I added a Bose computer-speaker set which consists of two small satellite speakers and a subwoofer. I connected the Bose set to a small, portable Bluetooth speaker that also hides nicely in the cabinet. I can then use my phone to stream music via the internet through the Bluetooth speaker, into the Bose system hidden within thehi-fi when I want to listen to something I don’t own on vinyl.

For good measure, I later connected a pair of RCA bookshelf speakers to the Magnavox unit to give the phonograph and radio a fuller sound. The end result is a retro hi-fi unit with modern upgrades and fantastic sound quality. Because the Bose and RCA speakers were given to me by friends who didn’t have a use for them anymore, the total cost of my hi-fi is still just $20. (For reference, just yesterday I ran across a website selling brand-new, retro-looking, Bluetooth-enabled, hi-fi units similar to mine for $10,999.) 

Behind our house, in our detached shop where my mother-in-law’s record player resides, I connected two hi-wattage stereo receivers together to power ten two-way and three-way speakers that were also given to me by friends who were downsizing their home-stereo systems in favor of compact soundbars and wireless Bluetooth speakers. The resulting decibel level is so high that I have yet to turn the volume knob past halfway for fear of giving myself (and the neighbors) permanent hearing damage.

For years, I have been a man in possession of multiple record players living in a community without a record store. But not anymore. You might have noticed that Ashland has been blessed with a brand-new business venture, an honest-to-goodness record store called King Theodore Records, operating in a cozy and well-adorned side-room within Century Tattoo. 

I stopped by during the store’s grand opening on July 17th and was thrilled to see a large number of music lovers gathered to listen to live music and peruse the hundreds of records offered for sale by owner Jesse Slade. When I walked through the saloon doors and into the record store wearing my Blues Brothers t-shirt, the first record I saw on display was an original copy of the Blues Brothers’ 1978 album “Briefcase Full of Blues”. Naturally, I snatched it up immediately. 

I took a few minutes to look the rest of the shop over, marveling over the diverse and rich offering of new and vintage vinyl and a few high-quality receivers and turntables, then I took my selection to the register where Jesse greeted me warmly. He loved the fact that I was wearing a shirt that matched my purchase and asked if he could take my picture to post on his social media accounts. Of course I said yes, never being one to shy away from the spotlight. I promised Jesse that I would return again soon and wished him the best of luck with his new venture.

I think it is very, very cool that our small town has a record store. And a tattoo shop. And the Mid-Missouri Arts Alliance. And several great, locally-owned restaurants. And a farmer’s market. And an auto parts store. And a hardware store. And a grocery store. And an independent newspaper. And great schools. And a YMCA. And a library. And service-oriented civic organizations. And churches. And many, many more things going for it that most small towns only wish they had. Ashland, Missouri, always proud of its agricultural heritage, is also becoming a haven for artists, artisans, athletes, academics, and audiophiles.

Stop by King Theodore Records soon, and do what you can to support all of Ashland’s wonderful, locally-owned and operated businesses. And listen for the loudest home stereo system you’ve ever heard in your life blasting classic vinyl from somewhere deep in the woods west of town.  

Debt-Free Is The Only Way To Be

My dad did his best to provide for my brother Blake and me after my parents divorced, but he was an overworked and underpaid high school history teacher who barely made enough money to keep us fed and clothed. Our mother helped where she could, but she was an overworked and underpaid car salesperson who often struggled to live on the razor-thin commissions she earned while trying to prove herself in a “man’s business.”

After my dad remarried, he quit teaching in order to go to graduate school, which meant that we had to live on my stepmother’s income as a server/hostess at Country Kitchen. When the time came to fill out my financial aid application for the University of Missouri, our family’s reported income was, to my recollection, around $13,000.

We were poor. 

I worked a few odd jobs here and there while I was still living at home, but I spent all of my paychecks on gas or beer. I did nothing to improve my family’s financial situation. When my parents told me, just before I graduated from high school, that they would be unable to help pay for my college education, it infuriated me—but it also served me right.

So, I borrowed thousands in student loans and racked up a fair amount of credit card debt over the next few years. I fell in love with my future wife and paid for her engagement ring with a JC Penny’s credit card. Bethany was also the child of a divorced teacher who struggled to make ends meet, so she, too, was deeply in debt when we got married. 

By the time we earned our college degrees, we owed tens of thousands of dollars in student loans and credit card debt. Soon, like a lot of people new to the work force, we bought a car and took on another monthly payment. Then we bought a house with a large monthly mortgage payment. Then we had a kid. Then we bought a brand-new truck. A year later, we traded that truck in and bought another, more expensive, brand-new truck.

We didn’t know it, but we were more broke than our parents. We were drowning in debt.

Then Bethany heard about Dave Ramsey, the financial guru who specializes in helping people get out of debt. Dave said if we were willing to live like no one else by aggressively paying off our debts one after the other, living off of beans and rice, and following a strict cash-only budget, then we would later be able to live like no one else; debt-free.

We followed Dave’s “Financial Peace” program with what he calls “gazelle intensity.” We followed a strict budget, and if we didn’t have actual cash left in the envelope marked “Dining Out Money”, then we didn’t dine out. If we ran out of “Entertainment” cash, then we didn’t even leave the house. 

We got rid of our newer car and truck (and their monthly payments) and paid cash for affordable replacements. Soon, we paid off our credit cards and cut them up. With the extra money, we paid back our student loans, years ahead of schedule, saving us thousands of dollars in interest.

We became debt-free except for our mortgage, which Dave considers the only acceptable form of debt due to the benefits of owning versus renting a home. With no other debts left to repay, we began to aggressively pay down the balance owed on our house. When Bethany’s father passed away unexpectedly, we paid-off the remainder of our mortgage with her share of his estate. 

We were 100% debt-free. And because we had learned how to be financially responsible, we were able to invest in savings and retirement accounts. We were able to afford two international adoptions without borrowing a penny. We were able to start college funds for all three of our kids. We were able to give to charities, too. And we did it all while earning middle-class incomes. In fact, I was a stay-at-home parent and a part-time substitute teacher for many of those years, so we actually accomplished our financial goals while relying mostly on Bethany’s income alone. 

We outgrew our little house in the woods a few years ago, so we bought a slightly bigger house in the woods. Because the old place was paid-off when we sold it, we only had to borrow a fraction of our current home’s assessed value. We hope to have it paid-off within a few years, making us completely debt-free again.

Years ago, we made the decision to live like no one else so that later we could live like no one else. Since then, we have travelled to Mexico three times, China twice, and the Dominican Republic and Ireland once—all without having a credit card. Yes, it is possible.

We’ve owned two RVs and have camped in the Rockies, the Tetons, the Smokies, and the Ozarks. We also own a small fleet of vehicles, each paid for with cash, including my latest acquisition, a 2010 Chevrolet Camaro SS that I bought last week.

Thanks to Dave Ramsey’s program and Bethany’s affinity for financial planning, we are not poor anymore. But we are not rich either. Most of our money is tied up in retirement and college savings accounts. We haven’t bought a car newer than three years old in almost two decades. We still live off of envelope money, and we still eat off of the plates we used in college.

Debt-free living brings with it financial peace and a world of possibilities. It’s true that money can’t buy happiness, but if a person has the discipline to wait until they have enough cash saved up, it can buy a low-mileage, eleven-year-old Camaro with 425 horsepower, a six-speed manual transmission, and no loan payments—which makes me very happy indeed.

In Loving Memory of Sweet D

 

When I was a fourth grader at Mark Twain Elementary School in Hannibal, Missouri, I had a major crush on a girl named Stacy. (Full disclosure: I also had a crush on Elizabeth and Lori and LeAnn and—well, you get the point.) Stacy was cute as a button and smart as a whip. She was strong and confident and, quite frankly, a bit intimidating to a shy kid like me. That’s why I never had the guts to tell her that I liked her.

Although my feelings for Stacy were very real, it just wasn’t meant to be. Stacy’s heart was reserved for a boy named David.

David was a good-looking lad who was every bit as intelligent as Stacy, but was the furthest thing from intimidating. He earned the nickname “Sweet D” by being one of the friendliest, kindest, and most affable people you could ever hope to meet. David loved to laugh, he loved his family and friends, and most of all—he loved Stacy. 

By the time they were in high school, everyone knew Dave and Stacy would end up getting married someday. It was obvious that they were soulmates, destined to grow old together. That is why it is so difficult to wrap my head around the fact that Stacy will have to spend the rest of her life without her beloved husband by her side.

David passed away last week, surrounded by his adoring family, after a brave and brutal battle with brain cancer. David’s younger brother Doug has been one of my best friends for the last 40 years, and despite his overwhelming grief he somehow managed to find the words to convey how much his brother meant to him and everyone who knew David:

“David was my best friend. If I’ve had any kind of success in life it was because he showed me how. He was the kind of guy that made everyone around him better. He was the quiet leader of our family. The most genuine, down to earth guy I’ve ever met. His laugh was infectious. He was always fair, always giving. He had a way of making everyone in the room feel important and heard. He was a tremendous father, husband, brother, and friend. I will miss him dearly.”

I can only hope that when my time comes, I will have lived well enough for one of my brothers to say such kind things about me.

As much as my heart hurts for Doug, it is absolutely shattered for Stacy. Just one week before her husband’s passing, Stacy’s mother died unexpectedly. Let that sink in for a second. For most of us, there are two people who love us more than anyone else in the world: our mother and our spouse. Stacy lost both of those people in one week.

In the first paragraph of this piece, I described fourth grade Stacy as strong. I can see now that the word strong is completely inadequate. Thirteen years ago, I lost my mother to cancer that had spread to her brain. I simply cannot fathom how I would have survived that time without my wife by my side. The thought of losing my mom and Bethany within a week of one another is simply beyond my comprehension. The strength Stacy possesses is beyond my comprehension, too. 

Stacy, if you are reading this, please know that you and your boys are in the thoughts and prayers of many, many people who care about you. You are loved. And I’ve got a great big hug waiting for you the next time we see each other. 

The same goes for you, Doug. I’ve known you longer than any person outside of my family, and I’m pretty sure that qualifies us as brothers. Although I’ll never come close to being the brother that David was and always will be, I promise I’ll do my best. I love you, bro.

Everyone else, call your mother. Now. Tell her you love her. Same with your siblings. Take your spouse in your arms and tell him or her how much they mean to you and how glad you are to have them in your life. Do it right away. Then raise a glass to Sweet D and thank the Universe for giving us people like him that make life so much sweeter.

My Spiritual Home

Greetings from Fort Collins, Colorado, where Bethany and I are spending an unforgettable 4th of July weekend with our dear friends Tina and Troy. Since my first visit in 1993, Fort Funk, (as a few of the locals refer to it) and nearby Rocky Mountain National Park, has become my spiritual home away from home. It’s where Troy lives, it’s where my brother Blake and his family live. It’s where our family has camped and explored many times over the years. 

After all of these visits to the area, I can confirm that my soul lives in Northern Colorado. It lives on the trails criss-crossing Rocky Mountain National Park. It lives along the banks of the Poudre and Big Thompson rivers. It lives on the Trail Ridge Road, at Horsetooth Reservoir, at The Exchange, in Old Town, and at the Mishawaka Amphitheatre. My soul LIVES in Northern Colorado. This weekend has confirmed it.

Our three-day spiritual odyssey of a weekend began south of Fort. Collins, at Denver’s Coors Field last Friday night. The Cardinals were in town to take on the Rockies before a full-capacity crowd that included a large contingent of Redbirds fans. Our vaccinated foursome was looking forward to seeing baseball in person for the first time in over a year and a half. Our enthusiasm could not even be tempered by the traffic snarl that crawled in the direction of the stadium.

By the time we found our seats, 27 rows above the field behind the visitors’ dugout, the Cardinals were already leading 2-0. We lamented missing a Yadier Molina homerun, but were glad to only have missed the first inning. Upon closer inspection of the scoreboard, however, we realized that the game was actually wrapping up the third inning. Denver traffic ain’t no joke, y’all.

It proved to be a game that had even more action at the conclusion than at the beginning. The Cardinals scored six runs in the tenth inning, including a Harrison Bader grand slam, to win the game 9-3. The thousands of St. Louis fan in attendance rejoiced at the Redbirds’ good fortune while tens of thousands of Rockies fans inexplicably remained in their seats, long after the final out was recorded.

As we gathered our jackets and began to head towards the exit, a local fan questioned why we were leaving. He was shocked to learn that we had no idea that it was Fireworks Night at the ballpark. He assumed that the reason we didn’t show up until the fourth inning was because we were really there for the Fireworks after the game. We had absolutely no clue that an already fantastic night was about to become an astonishing one.

After moving the fans seated in the outfield bleachers to the grassy outfield, the Colorado Rockies baseball club put on the most spectacular fireworks display I’ve ever seen (with one exception I will describe in a moment.) The fireworks exploded directly above our heads and the outfield terrace area of the stadium, and the barrage continued longer than almost any municipal display I’ve ever seen. The grand finale was so overwhelmingly beautiful that a few of us were left with tears in our eyes afterwards.

“No wonder there were 47,000 fans in attendance for a game between two teams with losing records,” I said to my friend Troy. The positive energy that had radiated throughout the stadium from the moment we arrived that night was palpable. The people in those seats had been missing baseball, public gatherings, and massive fireworks displays for a year and a half, just like we had been. All of us shared the feeling that we were right where we wanted to be, right where we belonged, surrounded by thousands of other people who felt like maybe life was returning to normal—finally.

Those good Colorado vibes were felt again the next night at the famous Mishawaka Amphitheater in the Poudre River Canyon. It was at a Funk concert by a band called The Burroughs that I officially established my status as a spiritual resident of Northern Colorado. 

Dressed in my 70s-era, red and white, western disco leisure suit with a butterfly collar, white leather belt, and white boots to match, “The Colonel” made his debut at The Mish.

I looked damn good, if I do say so myself. Several attractive ladies smiled at my bold fashion choice, and many of their boyfriends or husbands went out of their way to compliment my attire. “That’s the finest outfit I’ve ever seen here, man.” (And that’s saying something.)

“Thank you very much,” I replied, a la Elvis, followed by a funky kung-fu leg-kick in my white boots. Random people posed with me for pictures, and I’m pretty sure I could have held my own against the wardrobe of the funky lead singer of the band.

 

As the sun went down in the canyon, the Funk climbed on up. By the end of the concert, my alter-ego, Colonel Cletus T. Funk, had boogied and laughed and kung-fu kicked his way into Mish lore, and you can bet that he will be making more appearances there in the future.

As I mentioned, I have seen only one other fireworks display more awe-inspiring than the one at the Rockies game. I wrote a column about that experience two years ago, after seeing the entire Denver skyline turn into an hours-long fireworks display while Blues Traveler performed at Red Rocks on the 4th of July. That was the most soul-affirming musical experience of my life, one that was so powerful that Troy and I brought our soulmates along this year to enjoy it with us. (The show will start a few hours from now.) It’s hard to imagine that it could match the experience I had there two years ago, but I know it will. Colorado exceeds my expectations every time I’m here.

Don’t be surprised if you find that someday Bethany and Travis “The Colonel” Naughton make Colorado not only our spiritual home, but our physical home, too.