Charlotte, NC

Man, they don’t make ‘em like they usedta: Years ago, after playin’ along with rock-n-roll records with an “imaginary” guitar (I actually used a baseball bat, and tried to learn to finger-position chords on its neck), Daddy came home (well, it was either that or the cat! Mama was usin’ the broom!) with an old Kent guitar that a customer had given him. Finally, I thought, I can learn to really play! I was only 25 (actually, 13 … but I wanted ya to read this).
Anyway … that Christmas, with the guitar laying on the couch, my brothers and I started some good-natured ‘rasslin’ — and I was tossed on top of it. And, friends, nothing beats the thrill of havin’ three old, steel strings snappin’ and stickin’ into your hind-end …
So, a few days later, Dad took us to Sears, uptown. Now, for us Pinevillites who were used to the dime store and maybe K-Mart® if we were good, Sears was like shopping paradise. I immediately broke away from Daddy and my brothers and took off for the guitar section.
Now, back then, they had serious electric guitars. For the most part, ya had to have some muscle to hoist one of those rascals up to playin’ level (well, at 13 ya did, anyway!). They were what we call “solid-body” … which I wasn’t back then! Dad had his eye on an acoustic model … a store-brand Silvertone with classic (nylon and steel) strings. Of course, I wanted one of those sparkly-looking electrics — so he bought the acoustic for me.
For months, the guitar and I were inseparable (okay … except for bathroom breaks!). I learned chords, picking terando style (for the uninitiated, that means like Chet Atkins) and every rock record I had. Within a year, I’d started my first “band”.
And Sears had a lifelong customer. Whether it was for clothing, school supplies or to pick up girls, I went there! (c’mon — I was just kiddin’ about pickin’ up girls. Shoot … I rarely picked up my socks, so how good would I have been with girls?)
Now, the rest of the story’s strange-but-true:
In 1969 (after gradding from South Meck), I took my very first trip to Ashland, Kentucky (where I now do TV commentary for monthly wrestling events). Of course, with me went Lucy (named in honor of BB King’s guitar. Well, that and the fact no one would steal a guitar from someone who named theirs!). But, as luck would have it, I ran outta money and had to sell my now-kinda-worn stringy friend (no, Bultmann, not you! You came around later!). Only got eighty-five bucks for it!
In 1996 — after years of Stratocasters, Yamahas and one nightmare called Ovation — I re-visited, guitar-less, to promote a rockumentary I’d done. Out of curiosity, I visited a local pawn shop there. Thumbing through the guitars on their wall, I noticed one that was … well, kinda … familiar!
Yep. My old Silvertone! A little shop-worn and ragged, but it was mine! Or, at least was … so I bought it back. Three months later, it broke its neck in a tragic fall from a Greyhound’s freight area.
But the one thing that stuck out in my mind for all those years was the fact that I bought it from the old Sears uptown. Seemed like everything that store sold was complete quality. Today, I go to some of the “newer” ones (whether at one of our malls or on the road) to shop … but it just isn’t the same. I mean, their customer service is excellent, and so is their merchandise. but that old Sears on N. Tryon Street was nothing less than purchasing perfection for me.

So, today, as The Rock Relic, I have to thank the fine folks, service and prices at that old Sears for jumpstartin’ this rock-n-roll heart of mine. If it hadn’t been for that guitar they sold me (and my Dad’s insistence on my getting it), I probably would’ve ended up as a pro dishwasher or a Republican …

It was, without a doubt, the most laid-back of country music shows — and it was all ours!

I remember startin’ the morning with it; while Mama was cleanin’ up the breakfast dishes and I was waiting for the school bus (old rattletrap 175) I’d take in Carolina Calling — starring Arthur Smith and his Crackerjacks (lemme see if I can remember all of ‘em):
Ray Adkins, his wife Maggie, “Skeeter” (Wayne) Haas, Tommy Faile (who’s also in the Rockabilly Hall of Fame!), Ralph Smith (Arthur’s brother) and, of course, “Mr. Guitar Boogie” himself (hey … he created the famous solo, which was used by everyone from Bill Haley to the Beatles and beyond).

The music (including guest stars like Johnny Cash, Andy Griffith and others) was sprinkled with a generous helping of comedy — the Counselors of the Airwaves (”Brother Ralph and Cousin Fudd” — Ralph and Tommy, respectively), who’d stand in front of the microphone dressed in graduation caps and gowns and dispense homespun hilarity in the form of “advice”; “Skeeter” doing crazy vignettes like the disembodied head lip-synching Surfin’ Bird or dressin’ up like a girl raiding a bar in the a rib-splitting takeoff onSweet Thing — and more …

As a The Crossroads Quartet, Arthur, Ralph, Tommy and Maggie or Ray sang four-part gospel harmony comparable to the Carter Family or Chuck Wagon Gang. The best part is that you could really feel the sincerity when they took the mike.

The show was performed on a relatively simple set, as I recall, in the WBTV studios — but, even if the ol’ memory fails me a little, the best thing was that it was all so relaxing … even the small flubs they made on occasion were handled with good-natured humor.

In all, Carolina Calling was the perfect way to start the weekday. Even if you were waiting on a school bus …

NEED A GREAT LUXURY HOME?

Look … we all would like to have a beautiful luxury home — a place of our own that we can not only call “home” but also have tremendous pride in! Now, many of us look at the beach, or maybe somewhere in the mountains at best.
But why not think BIGGER? I mean, you’ve worked for it … you deserve something really gorgeous, right? Then why not consider the breathtaking Reserve at Lakota, in the ski resort town of Winter Park, Colorado? It’s a different and unique twist on luxury homes that brings the best of both worlds to you: Not only do you get the beautiful Rocky Mountain scenery but all the perks of owning your own home!
The “twist” I mentioned is that there are 14 mountain residences that are sold in 1/6 fractions, which makes them more accessible and affordable to you! Now, if this seems new and different and you’re interested in this refreshingly different offer, all you’ve gotta do is click the link I’m going to give you in a moment.
But, first, take it from The Relic … I’ve been to Winter Park (about an hour’s drive from Denver) and, folks, you’ll be amazed at both the fresh air and clarity of everything! Not only that, but you’re right across from the year-round Winter Park resort here! So why not check out the offer of fractional ownership now? Imagine … having the beauty of the Rockies, the services of a five-star resort … and building equity in a fast-growing Colorado ski town!
Sound good? Just click on that link now, and imagine yourself in a beautiful, luxurious and relaxing home of your own!

Y’know, the late Dan Fogelberg once sang, “I am a living legacy to the Leader of the Band.” The song was a touching tribute to his father who, natch, led his own band.
But, for my money, the truest “bandleaders” have always been the couple you see in the pic above … my father, C. E. (Eola) Hinson, along with his life-partner/wife/lover and friend, Irene.
There were few people around the Pineville/South Charlotte area who didn’t know Daddy. He worked tirelessly as the sole proprietor/repairman of Hinson Pump Co., and deacon/prayer warrior of Stough Memorial Baptist Church. Mama was always showing her love and support for him and the family, and touched many lives as Bible School principal, Cub Scout den mother, our family’s little seamstress, and the epitome of patience. If ya read Proverbs 31, in fact, you’ll see her.
But there was more to daddy and mama than met the eye.
When I first got into music years ago, I thought they’d probably snicker at their skinny little boy tryin’ to play guitar like Bob Dylan or John Lennon. After all, it was an old off-model acoustic that one of Dad’s customers had given him. Heck … I didn’t know a “C” chord from a lamp cord.
But, as I tried to learn, he taught me that, as I grew, life itself would be like that guitar; the “sounds” I made were entirely up to me. He said that I could make it (the way I acted) pleasant and melodic (like on the guitar), and the “listeners” (people who knew me) would be “humming the songs” (remembering my life’s impact) long after the last gig was played (after I was gone from this life).
Brother, you couldn’t buy a better “manager” than that man! And Mama? Why, she’d even arranged my very first show, out there on the lawn at 602 Morrow Avenue! She would encourage me to keep trying — YOU’LL make it! In fact, in 1981, I wrote a song specifically in honor of Daddy. Three years after he died in 1990, Mama gave me a piece of paper that he’d kept in his wallet for years — up until his last stroke.
It contained the lyrics of the song I wrote for him.
Talk about your “Leader” … THAT’S why I’m proud to be the “Hinson from Pineville, NC”. I’m proud to be my parents’ son …

First, I wanna apologize for the delay here. With thunderstorms and the PC bein’ fixed, I hadta be off a coupla clicks. Everything’s workin’ perfectly now. Thanks for understanding …

Yep … they’re pretty awesome, aren’t they?? But, as many folks in the Midwest can tell ya, tornadoes (in fact, mighty high winds without the twisters) can be a serious pain in every possible way.
Problem is, we here in Charlotte kinda “take for granted” that those suckers aren’t gonna make an appearance around here. I mean, after all, we are a major metro area — not a wheatfield-dustbowl-rural flatland area, right?

Guess again …

Y’see, NOAA (not the dude who built the ark … I mean, the weather people) have said that the so-called “tornado alley” is s-l-o-w-l-y shiftin’ toward the east! Heck … we’ve already seen ‘em in places as diverse as Nashville (btw, country singer Bobby Bare’s home was hit by a tree a few days ago; high winds knocked it over. His wife had a coupla vertebrae broken, but she’s doin’ better. He lived in Hendersonville … not far from Nashville. For you wrestling fans, H’ville’s also the home of “Wildfire” Tommy Rich and family) to Miami and even New York City!

Here in Charlotte, in early ‘94, my sons and I were livin’ over at some apartments off Airport Road when the sky darkened one windy afternoon. We went outside to check on a few things, looked up … and actually saw a small twister forming right above us! It made touchdown less than a mile down the road, and sheared off the side of a high-rise apartment building (I do remember a lady was either killed or injured in that one [can't remember which. Sorry ...]).
So it can happen here.

Okay … what do we do if one shows its snout?

• First, listen to weather updates and advisories — any obey them! Look … it’s not a hurricane that ya might be able to weather. These suckers are localized in their damage. Kinda like the difference between bein’ hit by a scrub-brush as opposed to a straight pin!
• Secondly, take cover in the bathroom if ya don’t have a basement or can’t get to a designated shelter. The bathtub’s the best place. Be sure to have a solid, thick blanket to cover you. Above all, shield your children safely!
• If you think you can get in the car and “outrun” it, think again! Many of these travel faster than your car, and the business end of a funnel can not only whip around to getcha, but it can skip an area, go up briefly and come down elsewhere … maybe even in your path!
• Best of all, do what the weather advisory says! It can tell ya whether you’ve got time to get to a shelter, what to do if you’re home-bound and can’t get away, etc.

Above everything else, remember: With proper planning and a positive attitude, there’s no reason why you can’t come out of a situation like that successfully and in one piece!
Here’s an important suggestion: If you don’t have insurance on your home, rental insurance if you’re leasing, or insurance on yourself and your personal, cherished items, get it! Even if the premiums are a bit much, you’ll be thankful you’ve got it, should any calamity hit!

Yes, we live in a relatively “safe” city and its area. But it’s always wise to be prepared, right?

On the way back to Crown Town after the wrestling gig last night (yep … Greyhound; the gas prices are a bit steep these days, and I found a ticket to be a bit less than the cost of a tank! Come to think of it, maybe I shoulda taken a tank … the traffic would haveta give me some room then!):

As I was goin’ over some notes from conference calls on the RelicPhone, I noticed somethin’ a bit interesting: The Merseybeat (ie, the British Invasion) sounds are comin’ back into the spotlight again!
This is good for Charlotte, as we have (without a doubt) one of the premier Invasion cover-bands in the world. The SpongeTones have been around for awhile, and can knock out some really good originals … but their claim-to-fame was doin’ the hits of the Beatles, DC5, Kinks and others to perfection!
Of course, other local groups have done the same over the years: From north Charlotte, ya had the Paragons, on the east side the Warlocks … even my foursome got into the act early on! Big WAYS played the hits, groups ranging from the DC5 to Herman’s Hermits played Charlotte, and the Queen City played host to U.S. groups that mimicked the UK biggies, like The Monkees and Five Americans.
If ya wonder why things were so much brighter then (sorta like The Way We Were), think about this: The groups played lighter, bouncier and simpler music back then, with a crispness that relied on rhythm and harmony. The sound was usually somewhere between 25 and 50 Hz, which put us in the driver’s seat (actually, psychologists say that it’s the best decibel level to create an upbeat mood). And, throughout all, there was wit … humor … no “heavy” anything.
Its effect spread throughout Charlotte in the mid-Sixties (although, admittedly, it seemed that Garinger High students cornered the market on the “good vibes”). Today, you’ve got groups like The Fratellis, OK GO! and Modest Mouse leadin’ the charge … with (get this!) many of the original groups getting back together and performing!
And, ya know what? Considerin’ the shape of this planet of ours right now, I do believe it’s time for it to come back into style!

FIBROMYALGIA: NO LAUGHING MATTER

As you’ve probably heard, there are millions of people (especially women) throughout the U. S. (and, yes, even here in Charlotte) who suffer from a debilitating condition called fibromyalgia. The symptoms — pain in skeletal muscles, tenderness and muscular stiffness — cause tremendous discomfort.
Unfortunately, there’s no certain cause of this affliction, butdo know that, for those who suffer from it, the body produces insufficient amounts of adensone triphosphate (ATP) — and since energy is transformed into an ATP molecule, this means it zaps a victim’s energy. Meanwhile, those who have it show consistently high homocysteine levels — which can damage blood vessels leading to the brain or heart.
Also, those suffering from fibromyalgia often have chronic fatigue syndrome, which includes more muscle aches. In fact, it’s considered by many to be just another form of the condition.
Now, however, there’s hope for the remedy of fibromyalgia in the form of Fibrostol®, which actually produces the maximum amount of ATP in the body through the use of DL-malic acid. It also includes Vitamin B-12 which is important in the prevention of homocysteine build-up.
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Do it now, before you leave your PC … and, soon, you’ll be on your way to more comfortable everyday living!!

Don’t ask me the specific day in 1968 that the murder occurred; I just don’t have a knack for remembering the macabre. But what I do know is that the murder of Larry Boyd (at a football game against East Meck) left a significant and heartbreaking dent in our school spirit …
I remember the Monday after the incident:
My first-period class — our first contact with schoolwork after Larry’s untimely death the weekend before — was with Mrs. Virginia Mays in World History. We’d had a full class of gregarious, restless students …
including Larry Boyd.
But, that morning, the first desk in the third row from the door was empty. No books, no papers, no strapping young man with a slight resemblence to RFK cutting up with the guy behind him. The other 29 or so desks were occupied by stunned students with shocked looks and tear-filled eyes.
We had anticipated Mrs. Mays coming in and mentioning something about the incident, then go into the day’s lesson. Many of us thought of her as slightly aloof — after all, who else would’ve crowned Napoleon XIV as “definitely probably the best ruler of France” or another male monarch as his country’s Queen? But, on that gloomy Monday, any word of comfort, I believe, would’ve helped.
Especially Marsha Baker. Larry’s fiancee. Fourth desk, first row next to the east wall, behind a glistening-eyed Debbie Thomas.
It’s what we needed. But what Mrs. Mays gave us … was nothing less than a miracle.

Instead of the “sorry-for-your-loss, students-but-the-class-must-go-on,” she didn’t even begin to teach the day’s lesson. No, she taught something infinitely more valuable. With her famous black beret perched atop a shock of silver hair, she sat on the corner of her desk and talked with us about the tragedy’s impact. No eulogies — those were to come. She began to softly relate to us about the need to let emotions out, but in a peaceful way — as Larry would’ve wanted. She told us how any thought of revenge should leave our system, because Larry wasn’t that kind of young man. So he wouldn’t want them to do that.
She reminded us that we were Sabres, and we were bigger than that.

With tears filling her eyes, she told us how this incident was full of lessons for all of us. It was a time for us to band together, and respect his honor as well as that of our own. It was probably the first time we’d ever experienced anything like that, and how talking with our parents, pastors and counselors would do more good than we’d ever know. It was our own “brush with the worst part of life”. And this one incident, handled properly, would open doors for all of us … doors that we’d maybe never seen. Since we’d seen what something like this could do, she said (and many of the class had been at the game), we now know what hatred can do to us … how it can “come down to something this terrible.” While Larry was one of her favorite students, in spite of (or, perhaps, due, in part, to) his occasional-but-always-innocent impishness, she reminded us that he would “carry on” in each one of us … because we were Sabres, and each an integral part of each other.

We’d come into the classroom, saddened, shocked, angry and defeated. Some of us were even ready to give up the Mighty Red-and-White. Thanks to her, we left with honor … understanding … empathy … and our spirits soothed and reinforced. In short, we grew up.

We were proud SABRES once again …