Nothin' But the Music - Track 4.5

                In 1989, after the “Love Overboard Tour” ended, Gladys Knight told her brother and cousins that she wished to perform and record as a solo artist.  With a hit single and high-energy tour to serve as a grand finale, Gladys Knight & the Pips ended their career as a group.  Merald “Bubba” Knight remains with his sister’s team, as her opening act, frequent duet partner, and business leader (he’s also a natural-born comedian).  William Guest and Edward Patten entered other business ventures but joined the rest of the group to perform on a very few later occasions.  Here, though, I want to pay tribute to some of Gladys Knight's superb musical work without the backing of the Pips:

-That’s What Friends Are For – Even before 1989, Gladys Knight did some recording apart from the Pips.  In 1985, her good friend Dionne Warwick brought her together with Elton John and Stevie Wonder to record this, now, timeless classic which originally served to raise funds for AIDS awareness and research.  The song was, naturally, a big hit to Warwick’s credit but is commonly found in Gladys Knight’s concert lineup as well.

-License to Kill – Before recording any solo albums, one of the first things that Gladys did as a solo artist was to add herself to the exclusive club of vocalists who have sung the theme of James Bond’s film existence.  In 1989, her rich, soulful voice was the perfect accompaniment to “License to Kill.”  Though she has spoken about the disturbing nature of the concept of a license to kill and alluded to the notion that she might not have signed on to that particular Bond theme if she had it to do over, Gladys has included it in her stage shows over the years and still gives it the power that she did in the original film track.

-Superwoman – To open the 1990s, her first decade as a solo artist, Gladys put out the album “Good Woman” which featured this powerful semi-feminist anthem sung as a trio.  With friends like Patti LaBelle (who also has a song on the “License to Kill” soundtrack) and Dionne Warwick backing her up, who couldn’t love this song?

-Next Time – After cutting her solo teeth on the “Good Woman” album, Gladys delivered 1994’s “Just For You” album which opened with this smooth, modern R&B tune with a good beat and lyrics that are slightly reminiscent of her older hits.

-End of the Road Medley – As a solo artist, Gladys Knight’s greatest vocal performance may be found in a complete collection of covers.  The “Just For You” album ends with this nearly 12-minute-long combination recitation and medley in which Gladys starts by giving her history of R&B music, followed by a sampling of the kinds of love songs she misses a la Harold Melville and the Blue Notes and the Spinners.  But, from those songs, she leads into a celebration of a return to such tunes by Boyz II Men and goes into her rendition of their hit “End of the Road.”  Though very different from the original recording, Gladys creates a version that matches it in quality and tops it as a soulful tour de force.  By the end of that album, if your car or house windows aren’t open, they will be by the end of this medley.

P.S. - Though there is quite a treasury of Gladys Knight's musical work without the Pips, that is not to say that there is no evidence of the Pips without Gladys Knight.  In 1977, they made a hilarious appearance on the short-lived "Richard Pryor Show."  And, years after the end of Gladys Knight & the Pips as a group, GEICO recruited two of the Pips (Edward Patten was no longer performing after suffering a stroke) along with one of Gladys' later backup singers to recreate that classic Pip motif. 

Nothin' But the Music - Track 4

                To pick back up with my ongoing expose’ of great music, it is high time I paid online tribute to one of my absolute favorite groups – Gladys Knight & the Pips.  They are a group that stood the test of time, evolving with each decade in which they performed and touching on most musical genres with their smooth harmonies and distinct R&B style.  They rank as a favorite musical act of mine on the basis that I could never decide on one favorite song or even narrow down to a truly defined list of favorites. Instead, let’s look at some of the musical niches they have filled and some of the high points of the musical eras in which they recorded and toured as a group.
                After Gladys Knight won first place on “Ted Mack’s Original Amateur Hour” and the Pips formed as a group at Bubba Knight’s birthday party, the family group began performing locally in the Atlanta area.  When producers took notice of them in the late 1950s, doo-wop was still the popular music of the day alongside the emerging rock ‘n roll style.  Thus, their first hit in 1961 was a doo-wop-esque love song called “Every Beat of My Heart.”  It presented The Pips to the listening public as a very 50s-inspired group whose soul was still building.  Enter the Motown years.  Between the writing of some of Motown’s best scribes, the development of the signature Pips choreography, and the influence of other great acts of the 60s, Gladys and the Pips pumped out some awesome music.  The very soulful tune “Make Me the Woman You Go Home To” let Gladys sing the message of a breakable heart, while “The End of Our Road” let the Pips flaunt their vocal power with a song aimed toward a heart that needs to be broken.  In 1967, they hit their biggest success to date with a little song called “I Heard It Through the Grapevine.”  Again, they were singing about a breakable heart but with a fun beat and powerful delivery.  As big of a hit as it was, it became a bigger hit for Marvin Gaye a year later.  He enjoyed joining them on stage to sing it on occasion, though.  It is also still a staple of Gladys’ solo shows and a real treat to hear when she performs it with her brother.  Gladys and the Pips had some other great hits with Motown that keep them cemented in the history of Detroit’s greatest label.  One of the ultimate heartbreak songs, “Neither One of Us,” came from that era (although I’d also add their version of “Sorry Doesn’t Always Make It Right” to their lineup of great break-up songs).  They did some great songs about forbidden love, including “If I Were Your Woman” (Gladys was originally hesitant to record it) and “I Don’t Want To Do Wrong” (co-written by Gladys Knight and her big brother Bubba).  During the Motown years, the resident family group wrote and recorded the semi-biographical tune “Daddy Could Swear, I Declare” and added a few cool feel-good songs to their discography.  The Pips' favorite concert-opener “How Can You Say That Ain’t Love” is an oft forgotten track from the “If I Were Your Woman” album.  “Friendship Train” was a Vietnam-era tune that really didn’t speak directly of the war but served as their general protest to the madness of the late-60s, while songs like "War" and "Ball of Confusion" gave a more focused message.  After leaving Motown in the early-70s, Gladys Knight & the Pips ventured into new territories with multiple record labels.  Their first album with Buddha records truly put them on any maps that Motown had left them off of, with a beautiful cover of Ray Price’s “Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me” and the career-defining Number 1 hit “Midnight Train to Georgia” (originally titled “Midnight Plane to Houston”).  As the 70s progressed, they came out with another soft, beautiful tune called “Where Peaceful Waters Flow” that I still play as I fall asleep sometimes.  As the 70s ended and the 80s began, artists from many genres were adjusting their styles and stage shows to accommodate the disco craze that swept the planet.  Gladys Knight & the Pips were no different, but they still maintained their personal style and already strong stage presence.  “Landlord” was a distinctly soulful hit of this era, while “Taste of Bitter Love” proved that they could handle the disco influence of the time.  As the 80s gave rise to songs of self-reliance and individual power, “My Time” became an anthem for anyone who wanted to feel pumped and positive.  To find a happy medium to the songs of solo strength and typical love songs of the time, they also recorded the Ashford and Simpson-crafted “Still Such A Thing” which talks about the hope of love, not just for an individual but for the whole world.  The final album for Gladys Knight & the Pips as a group would be 1988’s “All Our Love.”  The biggest hit from the album, “Love Overboard,” became a late-80s soul standard.  I also love the video for “Lovin’ On Next To Nothing” as it shows that the Pips still had moves like they did in the Motown years of the 60s. 
                As I said, there’s no way to define one or a few favorites by Gladys Knight & the Pips to me.  They have a song for every mood and virtually every occasion.  If you’re not very familiar with their work, shame on you.  But, check out the songs I’ve linked here, which span most of their years in music, and then look for some of their other hits.  Whether it’s a love song, a sad song, a fast song, or a slow song, Gladys, Bubba, William, and Edward mastered every song they did with class and style.  Rock on, Chuckonia.  And, stay tuned… this post will get a follow-up. 

The Moments - Chapter 1: Language Without Words

                I’ll always be the first to admit that having a child was not a plan of mine, not something I specifically pursued, and not even really something I assumed would happen in my life (some men don’t have much of a biological clock). However, I will also be the first to admit that my life has been so much better and happier and more focused since Joey Grimes was born. Since December 28, 2011 (yes indeed, we added another birthday to the winter schedule with the rest of the family), most everything I have done or pursued or arranged in my life has been for Joey or because of Joey. This is not an “ain’t I a great parent” declaration. On the contrary, it’s an “ain’t I got a great son” statement. He has made my life better, pure and simple. In these early months of his life, he often makes things better simply by creating the experiences that a daddy needs to have or giving me a laugh or a smile when nothing else can or by reminding me that he knows and can do a little (or a lot) more than I think he can or just by taking me back to my own childhood in some way. Some of them are one-time occurrences, some are routine for Joey and me. All of these things, all these happenings that touch my heart or stir my mind or remind me of the honor it is to be Joey’s daddy, are “the moments.”  Some of the moments that stand out are those from the months before he could speak in words but said so much with his actions and expressions. 
                When Joey was only a few weeks old and would fall asleep at the drop of a hat when I held him, I was still in that phase of thinking I was holding a little China teacup and could break him if I breathed (better to be over-cautious at first, I guess). There was also an air around us that said the world was watching and wanting me to fail, or at least to fear too much, in my dealings with my son. The first time his tiny hand wrapped itself around my thumb, I nearly jumped. He’d never gripped me at all before. His hand was so soft, and I was still so nervous. He looked up at me as he did it, and it was as if he was saying, “It’s ok, Daddy. We’re a team now. I can hold you too.” It was a little thing, but it was one of the most empowering moments of my life. As young and small as he was, he seemed bigger than both of us in that moment and was my comforter when I thought it was always supposed to be the other way around. Sometimes still, his grip or a look or (now) his sweet toddler words can make me feel strong, just as they did then.

                As Joey’s physical skills started to take shape, I was always fascinated to observe him.  From rolling over to sitting up to crawling and, eventually, standing, the evolution of his skills was a display that I could never watch enough.  A few weeks before he was full-on crawling, Joey could often set himself up in the crawling position but not propel himself.  The first time I witnessed this, he was on my bed.  When I saw that he was up on his hands and knees but couldn’t move, I assumed that his being on a mattress was preventing him from getting a stable start.  The next time he did it when on the floor, I realized that the entire crawling engine just wasn’t running yet.  Joey would prop himself up as if to crawl and, sort of, wobble and shake like the coordination to move hand and leg in the right pattern was not yet in him or that he simply didn’t know what was supposed to come next.  On multiple occasions, I saw him do this for a few minutes at a time.  Then finally, in exasperation, he would bury his face in the surface he was on (still propped up in a crawling stance) with a very adult look of annoyance on his face.  A couple of times, he cried a little over it.  It wasn’t the “world is ending” cry that babies sometimes unleash.  It was an “I’m really ticked off right now” cry that anyone could understand.  To try to lighten those moments and become part of the act, I would get down in the floor with Joey and get in the crawling position myself.  I wouldn’t move until he had at least tried.  But, once “the look” started forming on his face, I would crawl a couple of steps forward and a couple of steps backward and talk Joey through the process and encourage him to keep trying.  Sometimes, he would smile or laugh at me doing that.  It didn’t necessarily help his budding crawling abilities, but I like to think that Joey could already see that I don’t mind and genuinely want to see the world from his level as much as I can.  Honestly, it looks better from there.
                Speaking of Joey’s view of the world, he had a favorite book during his crawling-but-not-walking months. During his first summer, he would often aim for a large book on our bookcase filled with beautiful pictures taken across Tennessee.  It was something I acquired during my days working on the Hill and had not thoroughly looked through it before.  Thanks to Joey, I now have.  Perhaps it was just because the book was large enough to stick out beyond the front end of the shelf, but Joey seemed to reach for it every time he crawled anywhere near the bookcase.  He would pull it off the shelf, and I would pull him up into my lap and open the book.  Though too young for a roadtrip, Joey got an early tour of his home state with his Daddy, and Daddy was reminded of Tennessee’s natural beauty thanks to the curiosity of one who had never left Nashville up to that time.  I can’t wait to show him every corner of this state and beyond.  I think that seeing it with him will open up all the cool stuff I haven’t caught yet.
                Whether they are speaking in words or not, our children are always communicating with us.  As much as I love hearing Joey’s well-developed (for a 2-year-old) vocabulary, I still catch myself translating his words into the wordless language he used not so long ago. 

We’re Back! And, There’s One More of Us Now!

To ye few but formerly faithful who read this blog from its beginning, or picked it up along the way since 2005 because someone told you about it, or you saw it on my Facebook page or something, there are two important words – WE’RE BACK.  If you read the last post, you know that the death of my friend Austin Ahanotu prompted my return to the virtual pen and paper.  In feeling the need to write down some thoughts and memories (and actually doing it this time), I was brought back to that general desire to share thoughts and ideas on any random topic, as I did before.  In my nearly three years away from the Chuckonian Federation, much has happened, things that one wouldn’t necessarily write about in the moment, but about which much can be written in reflection.  My whole life has changed, and the greatest change is that there is now an heir to Chuckonia.  My son, Joey Grimes, is already 2 years old!  He is such a great kid and will grow to be a much better man than me one day.  As much as I hope to guide and help and teach him in the years to come, I know that he will teach me just as much.  He already has.  Sometimes, I’ll write about that – the fun of being Joey’s dad, the things we do together, the life of a single dad, the way I now see the world since I get to observe it along with someone just starting out.  And, of course, I’ll share some opinions on politics, faith, popular culture, and anything else that pops into my random mind.  Drop me a line if you have an idea.  I’d love to build upon a suggestion.  Welcome back to Chuckonia!

A Thought or Two on Ahanotu

     It’s been quite a while since I’ve blogged. Life has been happening, my world has been changing (mostly for the better), and I just don’t store the time and energy to write much. But, the recent death of my friend Austin Ahanotu left me flooded with memories and generated what we might call internal reminiscence. Since this blog was inspired by my Governor’s School life, it is only fitting that I return to it from that source. So, let’s talk about Dr. Ahanotu for a bit. By some standards, he and I really didn’t know each other that well. And, yet, for four or five weeks a year, each year, for five years, we basically shared our lives together. The way it happened was as much an accident as a calling, and what it left me with is a blessing that could never be recreated.
     Though my real interaction with Dr. Ahanotu came during my young adult years as a staff member at the Governor’s School for International Studies, my first encounter with and impression of him came earlier. When I was 16 and a student of the Governor’s School which I would later serve, we were still grouped and taught most of our material based on a region of the world. Dr. Ahanotu taught a class for Team Africa. I was a student of Latin America. On a regular basis, we didn’t cross paths. Most of the students who did seemed to think highly of him, and we were all intrigued by his grand presence. Though some of us wouldn’t admit it, he (along with Dr. Chekaraou) was the first African immigrant many of us had ever personally encountered. His accent was just strong enough (at least to my Southern-speaking brain) that I always needed to focus a little bit more to make sure I caught and understood what he said. That was alright, because, when he spoke in any of our larger forums, he always had something interesting or deep to say. The well-respected member of his village who came to the United States to seek opportunity and get away from turmoil in his home country had become a revered university professor and did much to serve and support his family and village both from his American home and on regular trips back to Nigeria. In the month that his Governor’s School students had with him, they simply could never have learned enough about the personal history of this great History professor. But, again, I had less opportunity then as I did not study with him myself. My most significant exposure to Dr. Ahanotu during that amazing month of my young life (which now seems far too long ago) was on the night designated for the teaching and enjoyment of various international dances. It is a GSIS tradition and is often conducted in slightly different ways. In 2000, there were several instructors teaching different dances from around the world and each student would learn two of them. As a student of Latin America, I started with salsa dancing (yep, I’ve done it, but 14 years leaves a boy a bit rusty), but I followed that up with the session on African dancing. Until I walked upstairs to the 3rd floor lounge of South Hall, I didn’t realize that Dr. Ahanotu was teaching the group. But, once I entered that room, the fun began! A drum beat was going, and Dr. Ahanotu looked a little tired from having just finished the first session. That did not slow him down. As the music started over, he explained to those of us in the room that this was a simple dance. He didn’t really have to teach us any moves, but we would keep moving. Our whole bodies would be involved. From beginning to end of the session, his tag line was, “You got to go with the flow. It’s how you feel. It’s how you feel.” He was moving right along with us (actually, he had much better moves than any of us). My peers and I were in a circle – dancing to a beat that kept increasing in intensity. For the first few minutes, he talked us through the basics of what we needed to know and do and spoke a bit about the origins of the dance and music styles. Most of the time, he just kept the room going. He would point to a student without saying a word, motion for them to come to him in the center of the circle, check their technique, impress us with his own, and return to the edge of the circle. It was like “Soul Train in the round.” He did that with each of us. I don’t recall how many of us were in the session, but it was a large enough group that doing so took several minutes. He didn’t stop. Body moving, eyes glaring, sweat dripping from his head and arms – we were totally enthralled. I didn’t know Dr. Ahanotu’s age, but I knew I wanted his energy level when I reached that age, or even at any age. After that night, I caught myself paying more attention to him. He was just one of those unique individuals to me, and I was so glad to have been around him in some capacity during that summer. However, for my full Ahanotu experience, the best was yet to come…
     In 2004, after my sophomore year of college, I began an experience I had promised myself would occur ever since my summer at GSIS – I was a Resident Counselor at Governor’s School. Though I was already two years a college student at the University of Memphis, I felt like I was returning to the campus for the first time when I reported in for the summer. Eagerly looking forward to working with some of the folks from my own year at GSIS, I was thrilled when I saw the lineup of returning faculty. Though I was committed to going above and beyond as much as possible for the program as a whole, I was most driven to personally aid any of the faculty who had been there in 2000. To me, that was how I would repay GSIS for all it did for me and meant to me as a high school kid trying to “find himself” (don’t you hate that expression?). Much had happened in the four years between my GSIS appearances, though. In particular, Dr. Ahanotu had lost his father in 2002 and then suffered a stroke while in Nigeria for the funeral. It had not been two years since this occurred, and the effects were still noticeable and taxing on him. I never came to a clear understanding of how the faculty and staff helped him on a regular basis in 2003 but could tell that Blanche (the program’s Associate Director and, basically, field commander) and Scott (my own Resident Counselor who then served as Head RC in 2004 and 2005) were determined to make sure he was looked after in a better and more consistent fashion than before. For this and other reasons, I was one of the RCs assigned to work with Team Africa. It was the assignment that would define my years at GSIS. RCs are expected to attend class when possible. The norm has often been an expectation of three classes per week, or one session of each class with which an RC works. Some weeks were easier than others to attempt such balance. Within the first week of GSIS 2004, I realized that I’d be attending more of Dr. Ahanotu’s classes than the others to which I was assigned. The other RCs helped him a bit, but I quickly became his right-hand man. My general tasks included, gathering materials he would use in class sessions, making copies, arranging the classroom, setting up films and multimedia presentations, and other odds and ends that any teacher’s aide might do. I also transported him to class. That year, classes were held in a building near the center of campus – not an easy spot for pick-up and drop-off on a campus with parking barriers everywhere. Day after day, we made it work. I would usually drive as close to the class building as I could, help Dr. Ahanotu into the building, find the nearest legal spot in which to park and run back to the classroom to help if he needed anything. Some of the other counselors thought I must’ve lost a bet or something, to have to be so glued to one class and to run all over campus because of the wacky parking set-up. It was a hassle sometimes, as I had other general duties to fulfill, but I loved every minute of it. Hearing him teach those high school students about the history and geography and political culture of Africa was a real treat. It felt like being in Governor’s School again and seeing the world through the view that only GSIS allows. It also brought me closer to that first group of students with which I worked. Seeing Dr. Ahanotu interact with a group of brilliant and talented young people gave me an up-close view of what a versatile, high-caliber educator really is. Time and a stroke had not dulled Austin Ahanotu’s brilliance or love of his work. Though he and I spent a lot of time together that first summer, I feel like we were just kicking off the bond that would shine far more over the next four years.
     2005 was a different kind of GSIS experience for Dr. Ahanotu and me. He was noticeably stronger and healthier with another year having passed since his stroke, though he still needed assistance to manage living and teaching in buildings on opposite ends of campus (much farther apart than in 2004). In my second year as an RC, I was promoted to Assistant Head Counselor and worked with RC Scott on more general tasks than before. The program itself had seen some changes too, as it was the first year in which students spent five weeks with us (rather than four) and would earn 6 hours of college credit through their coursework. As such, Dr. Ahanotu no longer taught a class for Team Africa, but he now taught Governments of the World, taken by a random group of students representing all the regional teams. Once again, I was assigned to work with Dr. Ahanotu’s class but, this time, because I insisted upon it. To better transport him, and to haul equipment across campus, the program rented a gas-powered golf cart for the summer. I barely remember what the UofM was like before I spent the summers cruising around on my precious golf cart. During our early cart rides to the university’s Engineering building, where our classes were held, I came up with “code names” for EVERYTHING – buildings, points on campus, people, everything. When Dr. Ahanotu and I would arrive somewhere, I would often say “Double-A has arrived, batteries are loaded.” Thus, Dr. Double-A became his Chuckonian nickname. Later, as we bonded more and he felt more and more like family to me, I would also take to calling him “Uncle Austin.” On one of those first few days of travelling to class via golf cart, I realized that when the fuel meter of a golf cart hits “E,” it truly means it is empty. We ran out of gas with at least a third of the journey to go. Double-A told me that he didn’t mind walking, and I promised to have our chariot fueled and ready for the return trip after class. The chat we had on that walk, however, became the Ahanotu story that students in 2005 and every year afterward would ask me to repeat over and over (I’d tell it without being asked too). Out of the blue, Dr. Ahanotu began to share (in his cool Nigeria accent), “So, this morning, I was watching Divorce Court, and this woman said to Judge Hatchett, ‘And I told HIM to get a third job ‘cause I wanted a Cadillac!’ Ha! What you say?! What you say?!” And, then, he repeated, “’I told HIM to get a third job.’ What you say?!” What could I say? Nothing. I just tried not to laugh as hard as my instincts were trying to drive me. Yes, the line from the show was funny. But, what was funnier to me was hearing his retell it and realizing that, no matter how smart you are or how many graduate degrees you have or how respected you are in your field or from what country you came, when you get older you’re still going to watch crap on TV! I can’t pass one of the “judge shows” on TV (especially Divorce Court) without thinking about that day and the talk that followed a golf cart puttering out of gas. From that day, I began attempting to “perfect” an Austin Ahanotu impersonation. Nothing beat hearing the real deal, but I had some fun, particularly for the purpose of doing justice to that account.
     We had a lot of interesting and funny chats on that golf cart, in 2005 and beyond. Now, I wish I had recorded them all. I think Dr. Double-A and I really bonded during that second year together. From then until my last term as an RC in 2008, and even a little beyond, we spent a lot of time together on and off campus. I would take him in my car to run his errands in town, I’d drop him off to visit academic colleagues, help him pack and unpack his dorm room, fix and find things for him, and sometimes we would go out to lunch or dinner together. Every instance was special and gave me a more personal look at this amazing man. There are so many fun and funny memories scattered throughout those summers. I may never remember each one and may choose not to repeat them all (haha!).
     Every year, we took the GSIS students to a Memphis Redbirds baseball game. Double-A didn’t always go. But, one year that he decided to join us Downtown was a year that the game was rained out by a terrible storm in the 6th inning. Teachers and counselors were clamoring to usher students back to the buses, but I needed to find two things – Dr. Ahanotu and my car. They were both at Peabody Place Mall. When I got there, Double-A had just ordered dinner at Isaac Hayes’ restaurant (I miss that place). He had also, it seemed, bought about one of everything at Tower Records. The storm could wait – we had new music to go through that was going back to Dr. Ahanotu’s village! By the time the students were being sent back to their rooms for the night on campus, Double-A and I were wandering back in from some fine dining. By the time I moved to Nashville, both the restaurant and the music store there at Peabody Place had shut down. I like to think that Double-A and I closed the place.
     I got an offer in the mail for a discount on AAA membership. It made me laugh, because I didn’t need a mailer to hook me up with a few extra free months of AAA – I just needed Ahanotu. One year, Double-A asked me to drive him to the office of Triple-A (haha!). He wanted to plan a trip and AAA members get free travel agent service as a benefit. Throughout the large, round building off Park Avenue, he kept seeing signs encouraging members to “refer a new member” and get “three months free.” Double-A was ready for action! He instantly began selling me on the idea of becoming a AAA member. “You need to join, Chuck. You will join today.” He changed his tune a bit when the fellow working on planning his trip told him that it was the new member who got the three free months, not the existing member. Double-A wasn’t that interested anymore. I wasn't ready to pay for anything new that day. And, I am still not a AAA member.
     In 2008, Double-A seemed to be in the market for a new vehicle. While riding in my Jeep, which I didn’t have during GSIS 2007, he patted the dash a bit and said, “This is a good car. It’s a good sturdy car. I want to buy it from you.” Never one to deny an Ahanotu notion, I said, “Ok. How much are you gonna give me for it?” The instant, and only, answer was “Oh, you know, five thousand.” No can do. I asked if that was in American or Nigerian dollars. He said it was American, and I told him that wasn’t near enough what I paid for it. He’d have to at least let me break even. I drove that Jeep until 2013, well after my last summer on staff at GSIS.
     The Jeep did, however, serve an important purpose after my “retirement” as a Resident Counselor. In 2009, I visited Memphis for a few days during GSIS. While I was there, Dr. Ahanotu asked if I would come back at the end of the program and take him to Nashville with me, as he was going to visit some friends and distant relations and would then fly to Atlanta from there to visit two of his sons. I liked the idea of a road trip with Double-A and even planned a little side trip so my parents could visit with him. On the way to Nashville, we stopped in Jackson at an event being hosted by the classic car enthusiasts’ club to which Daddy and Mama belong. My parents got to hang out with the legendary Austin Ahanotu, whom they hadn’t seen in a few years, he and I got to take a break and eat some good food, and we all got to survey a fabulous collection of classic cars and vehicles from famous movies. After a few hours there, we hit the road and headed to Nashville, where I dropped him off at his hotel. The next day, he visited me at my office on Capitol Hill and let me give him a tour of Tennessee’s Capitol. It was so much fun. Dr. Sue Gilmore, who also teaches at GSIS, picked him up from there to visit with him a while and take him to the airport. I guess that trip was the last time I had Dr. Ahanotu “to myself.” I would see him two more times, when I spent a couple nights in Memphis during GSIS 2010 and again when I drove down for just a day in the summer of 2011. That day, in 2011, would be the last time I would see Dr. Ahanotu at all.
     I’ve always said that I could, and want to, write a book about my Governor’s School experience. Truly, I could write a novel of equal length just covering my experiences with Austin Ahanotu. The funny things he said, the jokes we shared, the serious conversations about life and the world, the ways he let me help him, and the ways he helped and mentored me are all priceless – especially now. His knowledge, his sense of humor, and his enjoyment of life were all great examples to me. I regret that I never got the chance to thank him for being that powerful part of those summers and for giving me so much to carry with me outside of those times. I regret that my son, Joey, never got to meet him. I regret that future Governor’s School students won’t get to enjoy his teaching, his style, and his very presence. But, I will never regret that night in 2000 that I spent dancing with him and a roomful of my peers while he sweated to a drumbeat. I’ll never regret all the miles I walked and drove with him and for him or jumping at most of his random requests. And, I’ll never, ever regret the choice that Scott Morris and Blanche Deaderick made to pair me with one of the coolest people I have ever known when I was a new, eager, 20-year-old counselor in 2004. They started something wonderful for me that year. Family is not always defined by blood, nor always by a constant presence in one’s life. Dr. Ahanotu, like the rest of the folks at GSIS, is family. And, he will always be Uncle Austin to me.