Mad Men, the early years

I'm an avid fan of Mad Men. The story architecture, dialogue, and 'look' of the show instantly fascinated me, but there seemed more to it than that. I've often tried to figure out why. I know now. My Dad was Donald Draper.

I've spent a fair bit of time with Darryl lately, who for his age (71) is trim, still tall, dark (a little Metis blood) and handsome. His hair, (with the help of a long-forgotten hair product that would get you "2 minutes for looking so good") is mostly jet black. His voice a lovely baritone. His recent anecdotes have been omniscient, imparting solicited and welcome advice.

My Dad now dresses like a complete and embarrassing slob...is the Tilley hat really necessary? I could relate a story about a Maui beach involving 20 year-old swimming trunks, white tube socks and black shoes, but that's for another time.

In the day, Darryl was slick. Shiffer-Hillman suits (the 'Euro cut' sharkskin type that were en vogue in the 60's, made in Montréal), white French cuff monogrammed shirts, cuff-links, skinny silk ties, half-wellingtons. The WHOLE deal.

Thoughts of my Dad, coupled with my grandfather's teachings about how to tie a bowtie, have certainly lead me to the nostalgic and practical. I learned a valuable lesson from them both: dress the part, and when in doubt, wear a suit.

I grabbed this picture today of him a little more casual in 1968, but you get the idea. Years after this, I remember being in the same room listening to "Earth, Wind and Fire" on the stereo.

Organized Gypsies and The Boss

A dear friend of mine was at the Springsteen concert tonight in #YYZ. It reminded me of a road trip when we met The Boss.
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A few years back, Rob and Salvatore (Sammy) - who are huge 'Springheads' - got wind of a potentially intimate show. I tagged along.
We packed up in Toronto and headed for The Stone Pony in Asbury Park, New Jersey - the NJ boardwalk version of CBGB's.
It was a benefit show without said Boss on the bill. But, we had a hunch. He only lived a few miles away, a big supporter of the cause and the Joint (where he and Bon Jovi got their start). So, we were hoping.
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A border strip search, leftover sandwiches, and a few hours later we rolled in. To the venue we went, via hotel and the Organized Gypsies...
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Our enthusiasm ebbed. But then, we first spotted Patti, then Bruce - NY Jets cap pulled down - behind the mixing board, pulling slowly on a Rolling Rock. He was smaller in person, but rippled with vitality and was quietly dangerous. Like his music, he appeared as a working man after a long day - clear eyes, taught, ready to ambush. He wanted a beer and to be let out. To do his thing...

Still, he was gracious when we spoke to him.

Then, he got up on stage. He got bigger, but he didn't take over. Played rhythm guitar for one song...
It was more about the fact that his Ford truck was parked out back, just like everyone else. And, that he chatted with us just like you would with someone else in a bar. And, that he carried his own guitars.
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To the Organized Gypsies: One of those road trip guffaws that turns into code for friends. I had just returned from Ireland and was used to 'tinker caravans' in the countryside. When we arrived in Asbury Park, there was an open field between our hotel and the Pony. Full of makeshift tents and open fires.

Me: "Hey, look! Gypsies!"
Sam/Rob: "It looks like a Civil War re-enactment thing to me".
Me: "Yeah."

Other than Sammy's Leopard-spot gitch, that was the funniest moment of the weekend.
And, we got to meet the Boss.