Hi. My name is Andy, and I’m a pushover.

“Hi, Andy!”

I can’t remember when I became a pushover, but I feel like I’ve been doing it all of my life. I grew up amid chaos, so I tried to toe the line as much as possible - lest I be on the receiving end of my parent’s ire. If Dad was drunk, I’d jump to attention when he summoned me just so he could whisper “I love you” in my ear. Those were really the only times he’d show affection towards me.

Being a pushover towards my peers is easier to trace. After a couple of years of Catholic school, I switched over to public in the 3rd grade. I immediately felt like my entire existence was an affront to the public education system. I started to get mocked for my big nose and not knowing how to write in cursive.

But I really wanted these kids and teachers to like me, so I appeased them. I took their teasing because I was getting attention. I had no self-esteem to think of, so I rarely stood up for myself or fought back. I accepted this as the fair price for something I found out later in life can’t be purchased.

This posture has maintained itself ever since. Everything from covering people’s shifts at work to joining a band and traveling around the country. What was I going to do to make sure any given situation had the least amount of friction possible?

The situation came up again recently. My kid and I are taking a trip out west next month for a few days. I’ve been making myself dizzy trying to coordinate things to do and everything else that comes with planning a vacation. Last week, my kid’s Mom emailed to tell me that she got tickets to a concert in Boston - the day after we were supposed to arrive back home.

Rather than say “Sorry - figure it out on your own”, I called the airline to rearrange our return flight. I went through and canceled things from our itinerary. And after I did all that, she replied “Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up your vacation!” To which I replied, “Well, I don’t know what else to do.”

This is obviously an extreme example, but it’s still something I do every day in some capacity. And I don’t know how to stop.

But I don’t want to stand in the way of my kid not being able to see her favorite artist, even if we’re on the other side of the country. On vacation. Over Father’s Day weekend.

See where this is going?

I want to be there for people. I want to help accommodate them. But for better or worse, I can’t say no. I can demur. I can ghost. I can “maybe” to my little heart’s content. But it’s damn near impossible to stand up for myself. The alternative is closing myself off from the rest of the world which - while extremely tempting - is not very practical.

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been having a difficult time playing music these days due to various ailments and interests. But recently, when I’ve been feeling particularly anxious, I started picking up the guitar more. I’m debating whether or not I should start recording videos of my antics and post them here, which might be a nice balance with my usual tales. Stay tuned.

This week marks the 90th anniversary of the Teamster Rebellion in Minneapolis, one of three general strikes across the country in 1934. Striker Henry Ness - along with fellow Teamster John Belor - were murdered by police on July 20th of that year in what became known as Bloody Friday. 100,000 people lined the streets of the city to honor Ness and Belor during their funeral procession.

Ness, who was also a Veteran of World War I, was laid to rest in Crystal Lake Cemetery in North Minneapolis. My Mom and I visited some years back to find the graves of some of her relatives. And I made it a mission to pay my respects to a martyr of the class war.

m u s i c b r e a k

Gene Clark - Here Tonight (1973)

I learned almost everything I know about The Byrds through The Flying Burrito Brothers. I had already known of their more popular tunes from the oldies stations and stuff, but never dug deeper beyond knowing what Roger McGuinn looked like.

Turns out, almost every member of the band was immensely talented in their own right. Especially the underrated Gene Clark. I started listening to him a lot more in the past decade on Pandora stations and his sound really resonated with me. Earnest and heartbreaking to match much of his personal life.

Roadmaster was kind of an odds and ends album that A&M Records threw together, showing off a bit of Clark’s range. “Here Tonight” was recorded with the aforementioned Burritos, who also released it on their eponymous 1971 album. The song has a real worn-in feel with steel guitar dalliances by the legendary (Sneaky) Pete Kleinow. A song about traveling was pretty rich coming from a guy Clark, a person who ended up leaving The Byrds because of his fear of flying.

Take care,

-AG