Midway On Our Life's Journey...

Midway on our life's journey, I found myself
In dark woods, the right road lost.
-Canto I, 1-2

From Dante's Inferno, translated by Robert Pinsky

The sionara to Bob Thomas was less a eulogy than a performance.

Dave Tappan emceed the event Saturday. Dave said in the introductory remarks that Bob would have wanted people attending his funeral to be laughing and having a good time. I think that was accomplished. A lot of funny Bob Stories were told. Dave introduced each speaker. After he said some things (talked about Bob never removing his socks, even when he got a new pair of sandals from his brother), he introduced Jenny Jones (now with KGO in San Francisco) who sang Green Day's "Time of Your Life", then Billy Pilgrim, then Gary Moore (who threw out the story of Bob's dentures flying out of his mouth during a recording session--by the way my one Bob story was going to be about his dentures that he started using just days into beginning the morning show at Q97; at the time I was the overnight guy and it was the funniest thing I've heard on the radio--nearly drove off the road when he tried to read "Shasta County Sheriff's Department"...Now, was this intentional, or just Bob?), then Cindy Shaw, then Chellie (who replaced me and others at the recent shake-up... but I guess she let Bob live with her and her husband for the better part of a year and was ready to donate a kidney [!], but Bob--as she said, tearfully--didn't want to put her health at risk), then Bob's brother from Nebraska (who said that he wasn't very good at public speaking, "because I'm not a radio guy. I worked 35 years as a police officer. Bob thought that was a big deal, but I was always really proud of Bob... I never told him I loved him, but I did...), and a wrap up by Dave. There was a short powerpoint presentation of two-second dissolves of pictures from birth, childhood, B94, Q97, with Van Morrison's "Into The Mystic". Good song choice, though it's one of those things that you say to yourself, "I could have done better". It was a presentation made by local filmmaker Jake Daniels. This is a guy who makes a living making films... films about homicidal maniacs that are bloody ridiculous. He gets paid to make films.

I take a moment now to sigh, inwardly.

Dave said in his closing comments that Bob was "very good at what he did. He was a great DJ".

Now, as I leave this industry behind, two of the big voices in this area have died. I'm glad I never did either of these gentleman any harm. I was never their supervisor or manager that had to fire them. Some of the people who attended the funerals for Jerry McGee and Bob Thomas were among the crappy people that have small souls. They can talk the talk, but how do they feel inside? From what I understand Bob was completely broke for the better part of a year, had just gotten on his feet for a few weeks, then died. Jerry had one thing keeping him going. That one thing was the daily ritual of going to the radio station, doing his daily duties. How does it feel to be the person that fired Jerry McGee? He was dead within six months of losing work.

I take a moment to sigh inwardly, again.

I'll probably find out this week the results of this interminably long process of becoming Kafka; my transformation into a governmental worker bee. Even if they do hire me, I'll still have a long way to go with my transformation. My metamorphosis, if you will. Radio will always be in my blood, though. I started pushing buttons (board-opping, as we say in da bidness) when I was 13. That's a long time. Once it gets in you, they say, you can never get it out: The desire to do radio akin to an incurable virus. Right now, I don't have any desire to go back. That may change... but attending Bob's memorial service shifts my focus. Radio has never been my entire being, it's just what I do. And now with a family, children and mid-way through life's journey, I may have left it behind for good.