The Writer's Page

May 24th, 2007

Influence
by Jarred Butler

Many people have influenced me in my life, but when I think of one specific person who has contributed the most to make me who I am today it would have to be my brother. Even though my father has a lot to do with who I am today, my brother has always been the one role model in my life.

I grew up in a family of four which includes me, my mom Martha, my dad Jeb, and my brother Jeb Jr. My parents have always told me stories about how when Jeb Jr. was a little kid he would always play with his imaginary brother. It started getting so bad that he would ask for two snacks or two juice boxes' just so he could feed his "so-called" brother as well as himself. They knew they had to do something about that so at the age of five he was given me as his brother on June 19, 1990.

Ever since that day in the hospital when we first looked at each other we've been best of friends. Throughout my whole life he has treated me as a best
friend. There are plenty of pictures to prove it. Pictures of him holding me in his arms and feeding me with a bottle, holding my hand when were walking
through busy areas, riding bikes around the neighborhood, teaching me to fish and so on. Every picture I look at with the both of us together in it brings back the exact memory of what was going on because of how much he means to me.

I can remember a time when I was about ten years old the both of us hung out every single day of the summer. My dad would wake us both up around six o'clock in the morning and take us to Dixon Lake on his way to work. When we got there Jeb would take me fishing around the whole lake all day, just me and him. Then at about four o'clock my dad would pick us up. We did this everyday of the entire summer. It never got old for the both of us; we had the best of times together. I can look back on that summer and almost distinctly remember each day because of what fun we had and I know I will never forget it.

What influences me the most about him is that he didn't look at me as just a brother but as his best friend too. It was never a problem to him at all if I came along with him no matter what he was doing, whether it was going to the beach with his friends or even once I recall going to the movies with him and his girlfriend. He loved having me there just as much as I loved being there with him.

Now that I have reached the age he was when I was little I have even a greater admiration for him. I never understood when I was younger that he actually took time to be with me. I always had the picture in my mind that everybody and their brother did things like we did. I have a lot of friends that don't even like their brother and hardly ever spends time with them. He could have been with all of his other friends but he wanted to spend time with me instead. To me that says it all.

The reason I look up to him the way I do is because he has always made me feel important and allowed me to be myself without having to think anything of it. Without him I don't know who I would be today. One thing I do know is I hope one day I can make someone else feel as special as he made me feel and be an influence in someone else's life like he still is to me today.

To Nebraska and Back
Part 1 - Sold Out
by allen jones

Leisurely packing my travel bag for a three day trip to Nebraska and back to the Metroplex, I’m not sure I had an accurate idea of what an emotional trip it would become. Oh yes, I expected some special feelings observing Jonathan, my youngest son, and the other members of the Eli Young Band perform at Harrah’s Horseshoe Casino in Council Bluffs, Iowa, right across the Missouri River from his, and my, ancestral home in Omaha. What I hadn’t anticipated were the emotions that would rise to the surface as a result of familiar landmarks and their associated memories.

The drive from home in Fort Worth to the first gas stop in Denton turned out to be the only time for nearly three days that the top on my Mustang would be down; from then on the precipitation would range from a slight foggy drizzle to literal cloud bursts. I followed my normal route north until just beyond Salina KS, where I turned east on I-40 as I made my way to Manhattan, KS, and my lodging for later that evening. En route I was able to determine with a cell phone exchange with Jonathan that the band had an unused room that I might use, so I called and canceled the room I had previously arranged via the Internet. Locating the new motel and then the evening’s venue were relatively easy; after all, Manhattan, a really nice home for Kansas State University, is, even in the rain, not that big.

The new (to the band) bus with attached equipment trailer was parked on the street almost directly in front of the Longhorns Saloon and just in front of the space reserved for the local police vehicles. The bus, really a small hotel on wheels with its six sleeping berths, bar, lounging area replete with flat screen TV, surround sound, and shower/lavatory is a small step up from the bus they had at Billy Bob’s in Fort Worth a couple of months ago, but a huge advancement from the van the band was using in the recent past. After an exchange of pleasantries with the band and their traveling support team, Jonathan and I stepped out into the drizzle to head for some dinner. As we stood outside the bus I looked up at the Longhorns’ marquee which read, “Live Tonight…Eli Young Band”, and I commented to my son that someone should take a photo for inclusion in a band scrapbook. The argument that there were four or five of these stops every week appeared to put an end to my suggestion and we got into my car to seek a restaurant.

Not too far away we found an Old Chicago Pizza and Pasta establishment that appeared to be a good match for my son’s culinary desires and we were able to find a parking place close enough to avoid a complete soaking as we headed for his calzone and my spaghetti with Alfredo sauce. Our conversation was quite private and dealt in large part with the question of young women in the life of a traveling bass guitar player, the kind of thing you rarely get around to in a telephone conversation. I told him, although I am not at all certain he was necessarily seeking my advice, I couldn’t be of much help. I had fallen in love with his mother the very first time I saw her, and could only hope the same thing would happen for him. Perhaps the most memorable part of the conversation took place when the check arrived and he wouldn’t let me pick it up. I believe his exact words were, “For the first time in my life I am making more money than my father and I will pick up the check.” It’s hard to argue with such solid logic.

When we got back to the bus there was a third line on the marquee…Sold Out! Now my argument for picture taking, without any further words carried sway and out came the digital camera. This was the furthest north the band had sold out the house and I believe all were pleased.

The band took the stage at 11:30 and I took a position in the rear of the hall near the makeshift booth from which the EYB memorabilia was sold. Not only was my perch one from which I could help ensure none of the hats, CD’s, or T-shirts walked away, but it was a great spot from which to observe the sold-out crowd. The crowd was young (although of drinking age), about gender equal (a slight edge to the ladies), interestingly attired (definitely different than my college days), and it seemed to me to have a lot of gals under five foot (made for some interesting dancing with guys over six foot). Perhaps it was the liquor, maybe the beat of the band, the end of the semester or possibly the fact I was old enough to be most of their granddads, but I saw goings on we (my generation) cautiously attempted only in the back seat of our cars.

Throughout the hour and fifty minutes the band was on the stage there were people buying merchandise, some with cash, many with credit/debit cards. These were true EYB fans as demonstrated by the fact most everyone sang along with the band; even I did not know all the words to every song! All the more amazing when you understand the band is doing all original songs; the sole cover they do is a Beatle’s tune that was popular prior to the birth of most of those in the hall, including the band. The thought kept going through my mind that this entire evening, from bus to autograph signing after the performance, would make for a great documentary.

I hung around in the background until shortly after 2:00 and then, after appropriate good nights, headed for my room. The bus driver had a 9:00 call and I still had to get a little sleep, take a shower, eat some breakfast and get back, if I was to follow the bus to Harrah’s later that day.

To be continued - - -