Goodbye Ralph MacDonald...RIP

It's a sad time in the world of music. Early Sunday morning, December 18^th, while some of us partied and some of us slept, 67 year old Ralph MacDonald, lost his long battle with lung cancer. With his friends and family gathered at his bedside, his soul went gently into the night, to emerge bathed in the bright light of his final reward. The music world morns his loss and grieves for his family. Always to be remembered.... never to be replaced, Ralph will remain a beacon guiding those who knew him and those who never will, leading us all to strive for better music and better lives. He lived life to the fullest, touched the greats and made them greater. He was a Jazz legend, Rock legend, and song writer extraordinaire. Regrettably, most Parrot Heads and Trop Rock aficionados only new him as a Coral Reefer. He was, and will remain throughout time, much, much more. Rest in peace, Ralph MacDonald. 1944-2011.

A Beautiful, Heart Warming Christmas Story

The Truth About Rudolph by: Don DaPyrate

My wife says I'm crazy.  She should know. No, it's not that. She's spent her whole life in a mental health career, and she should know crazy when she sees it. I'm almost sure she's wrong this time, though. I spent a lot of time in mental health facilities, myself. Gradually, they started trying to find ways to grab my keys. The last straw was when they finally snatched them and tried to drag me into a small room with soft walls and a tiny window in the door. I escaped...er, made good my exit, and never looked back.

However, I digress. The point is, that I know what I know, and I may not be crazy. You listen to my story, and judge for yourself.

With time, stories become vastly different from their origin, and usually far from the truth. Lines spoken and left unrecorded can become completely changed in context and meaning from what was actually said. Such is the true story of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.

The century was numbered in the higher end of the single digits, so it was a long time back. Novgorad, that was before it was called St Petersburg, was a thriving city in a cold little land we now know as Russia. The Winter that year was especially cold and brutal. In fact, it looked as though there would be no Christmas in Novgorad that year because of the inclement weather. It was just too cold for Santa to fly.

Though all the children were sad, they couldn't cry. If they cried, their tears would freeze on their faces and eventually build up in layers, until they were encased in a giant ice cube. Then, they could no longer go to school, or do their household chores. It was truly a hard Winter in Novgorad, and the prospect of there being no visit from Father Christmas. Of course in Russia he was known as Ded Moroz. It means the same thing as Santa Claus and he has the same red suit and long white beard.

Enough history! On with the story.

So, with it so cold and a strong likelihood of no Christmas presents in their near future, the dry eyed Novgorad children just stood in their cold little houses and looked pathetic. It was no different in the household of Rudolph and Natasha Ivanov and their 5 children. Natasha was brewing up hot drinks and baking delicious wood fire cookies, trying to cheer up the Ivanov brood. It wasn't working.

You can't quell the heartbreak of no Santa with tepid gruel and flat bread.

The science of meteorology was in it's infancy in the ninth century. Alright, you got me. Nobody had a clue about meteorology. It was pre-discovered at that point. Most everybody just looked outside and said, “yep, it's snowing.” Or maybe it wouldn't be snowing, so they'd say, “nope, it's not snowing,” However, A young Novgoradian named Rudolph, took a more critical view of the situation.

Rudy (his buds down at the local drinking establishment called him Rudy) would look outside and see what the weather was like, then write it down in his journal. After 9 years of note taking, Rudy thought he could see a pattern. Mainly, he realized that if it was Winter, it was probably going to be cold and possibly snowy. He also noted that if it wasn't all that cold, even if it was Winter, it might rain instead of snow. He could guess, most of the time, that if it was getting warmer outside in the evening, it might rain overnight. This led the quick minded Rudy to think he could predict what the weather was going to be tomorrow, by what it was like today.

December 24^th: We'll use that date because nobody seems sure when they actually celebrated Christmas way back then. Anyway, Rudy went outside on the evening of December 24^th, and predicted that Ded Moroz would be making his run as scheduled. He was the only person in Novgorad who thought Ded Moroz as going to make it. Soon, the word was all over Novgorad that Rudy the weatherman was finally off his nut for sure.

“He's coming, Natasha,” Rudy said. “It'll be warm enough for his sleigh to fly.”

“No way!” said Natasha.

“Way,” said Rudy.

“No way,” his good neighbor Boris said.

“Way,” said Rudolph. “You'll see. It's going to be warmer. In fact, it's going to rain. He'll be wearing a slicker, but Ded Moroz will come tonight.”

Boris just rubbed his neck, shook his head, and walked back into his house. “That Rudy's as crazy as a no legged cat trying to kick a flea,” he mumbled.

In the morning, when the good people of Novgorad looked out their windows, they were amazed to see rain dripping from their eves and familiar sleigh tracks in their yards.

The children cried tears of joy. Really. They didn't freeze on their faces! In the living room of every little house there stood a fresh, gaily decorated tree. Every tree was surrounded by piles of presents. Every Novgoradian child had a very “Happy Christmas”.

Amazed but happy, Natasha ran to Rudy and threw her arms around him with delight. “Rudy, I don't know how this happened. How could you have ever kept up such optimism? It's been below zero for the last eight weeks. What made you think you could predict warmer weather for Christmas Eve?”

“Well, Natasha,” Rudy grinned. “It seems like you should know after all these years with me. Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.”