Missing a Friend Today

The second EVER place I went for karaoke was White Oak. Now, to those from that time and place, that's all the explanation needed, but since the construction of White Oak Shopping Center, I have to stress White Oak LOUNGE.

I initially went on a Wednesday night wondering what I had done. The place looked menacing and I had all manner of visions of fights and broken bottles, drawing from nights when I had to do gigs behind chicken wire to dodge same. Dive would have been the word I used to describe it, but soon, the people there would become like family to me. The story of that first night is for another posting, but it was on one of the very first visits for karaoke there that I met a fellow named Caleb.

Wendy Turner was hosting the karaoke there, starting each round off with three or four of her own songs. Once, a guy named Jerry came and complained, "I came out here to sing karaoke, not to hear a concert from YOU!" Wendy, who owned the place, promptly escorted the massive man to the parking lot with a few choice words and an invitation not to return. (About a year ago, he was hosting karaoke there. I suspect they forgot the incident)

There was no doubt that Wendy was the star of the show with her own following of loyal fans. She sings country as good as ANY and loves to sing Aretha Franklin covers. Wendy has used me in a show and had me audition for others. I in turn invited her to enter a karaoke contest where they told me I was a shew in. Guess who won? Wendy. I think she appreciated it.

Your average karaoke singer is well defined on television and in movies, not great, often off key, with a lack of rhythm and thinking they're the star of the world. Ear plugs make a nice accessory in those cases.

Caleb made up for any lack of singing talent he had with his moves. The boy was all over the stage and usually sang a predictable mix of "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" and the Stone's "Honky Tonk Women." Sometimes, "Johnny B Goode" He was a month or two younger than me, and I enjoyed asking people which one of us they thought was older and their guessing Caleb.

Last week I got word via FaceBook that Caleb's mobile home had burnt because of a towel hanging on a door too close to a space heater. Apparently he became asphyxiated but they got him out before his place burnt to the ground. He had lost EVERYTHING as far as worldly possessions and was in a drug-induced coma. Well, last night I got an update and the funeral was last week, so this is my way of saying, "Good-bye."

He was a kind man, at times a horn toad (dang testosterone) and a few times I felt led to give him the rest of my pizza. He shall be missed, truly. Rock on, Caleb.