When I was a young boy, I had a friend name Donald.
Donald’s parents were friends with my parent’s friends, the Brennas. The Brennas lived in a house in Edina. Lloyd and Sarah, I believe, with daughters Chrissy and Shelly. The Brennas raised dachshunds, and from either the same litter, or different litters, we got our dog, Fritz, and Donald’s family got their dog, Herman.
Donald and I didn’t get to see each other often. My family lived in Minneapolis, and I believe his lived in Winnipeg. I don’t know if they lived in Winnipeg for my entire childhood; I think they lived in Richfield, Minnesota for a long time. Even that was far away, by my standards, (the whole other side of town,) and every now and again, Donald would stay at our house for a couple of days, or I would stay at his.
I’m pretty sure he had two sisters. One of them was named Lori; I can’t remember the other sister’s name.
Donald and I were a couple of manic children, when we were together, with overactive imaginations, and hyper, bizarre behavior. I remember being thrilled whenever he came around. We saw less and less of each other as we got older.
I remember being a teen of maybe as young as 13, maybe as old as 15. Donald played bagpipes, and his group of pipers would be marching in the Minneapolis Aquatennial Parade, which was sort of a big deal in our town. I had some bottled water, and some other stuff, and I ran alongside, and when we got to the end, twilight had fallen, and we were to await our ride home. Somehow, we ended up hanging out in a bar called the Blue Ox. It was a little hole in the wall downtown, and I’m pretty sure they only let us hang out there because we had been in the parade, and we sat at the bar and drank cokes, and we had a pretty mad crush on the lady lounge singer.
She made our pulse race by saying she thought we were cute, and for a second I remember thinking one of us might have had a shot at her, until she remarked that we reminded her of her own son back home. I know she sang “Tie a Yellow Ribbon,” by Tony Orlando and Dawn, and she changed the old oak tree to a naughty body part, and the customers were amused, and I personally was aroused beyond belief. She wore a black cocktail dress, and I believe she had brown hair. She was most likely an average, slightly attractive fortyish woman, but to me she was a goddess, and she was very nice to us, and more or less looked after us for however much time we were there.
In my early twenties, around 1982 or 1983, I saw Donald one more time. It was during my Mr. Cool Doesn’t-Care-About-Anything super burned out alcoholic phase, and although I was glad to see him, it was my role in life to not care, and I don’t remember much about his short visit to the house where I was staying. Over the years, I suppose I didn’t think about him too much, except for one time in the late eighties or early nineties, when I waited on his dad while I worked at Wayzata Perkins.
My father died in March this year, 2014. I gave a speech at his memorial service that included the following:
When I was a kid, my friend Donald had a dad who was a Winnipeg Police Officer. He had to call him "sir," and he was a very intimidating man. When I would stay over at Donald's house, his dad would threaten to force me to cut my hair, and sometimes, he made me cry. When my dad found out about it, he told him in no uncertain terms he was to leave me alone.
Donald's dad said, "you can't like that long hair, that makes him look like a girl," and my dad said, "I don't like it, but it's his choice."
Last night, October 14th, 2014, I got a message on facebook. It was a Don Reid, asking if I was “that” Richard Davidson. I definitely was, and am. He has seen some of the YouTube videos of my band, and approves. We have exchanged a few messages. I will try and make sure we have a phone conversation. I’m not sure if I can call Canada, but I would think I most likely can.
Don commented on the YouTube video of the speech at my father’s memorial service.
Don doesn’t recall his dad wanting me to cut my hair, but then again, why would he? I’m not sure he was always around when his dad would pull that one. I can’t be sure. It was an awful long time ago.
Donald’s parents were friends with my parent’s friends, the Brennas. The Brennas lived in a house in Edina. Lloyd and Sarah, I believe, with daughters Chrissy and Shelly. The Brennas raised dachshunds, and from either the same litter, or different litters, we got our dog, Fritz, and Donald’s family got their dog, Herman.
Donald and I didn’t get to see each other often. My family lived in Minneapolis, and I believe his lived in Winnipeg. I don’t know if they lived in Winnipeg for my entire childhood; I think they lived in Richfield, Minnesota for a long time. Even that was far away, by my standards, (the whole other side of town,) and every now and again, Donald would stay at our house for a couple of days, or I would stay at his.
I’m pretty sure he had two sisters. One of them was named Lori; I can’t remember the other sister’s name.
Donald and I were a couple of manic children, when we were together, with overactive imaginations, and hyper, bizarre behavior. I remember being thrilled whenever he came around. We saw less and less of each other as we got older.
I remember being a teen of maybe as young as 13, maybe as old as 15. Donald played bagpipes, and his group of pipers would be marching in the Minneapolis Aquatennial Parade, which was sort of a big deal in our town. I had some bottled water, and some other stuff, and I ran alongside, and when we got to the end, twilight had fallen, and we were to await our ride home. Somehow, we ended up hanging out in a bar called the Blue Ox. It was a little hole in the wall downtown, and I’m pretty sure they only let us hang out there because we had been in the parade, and we sat at the bar and drank cokes, and we had a pretty mad crush on the lady lounge singer.
She made our pulse race by saying she thought we were cute, and for a second I remember thinking one of us might have had a shot at her, until she remarked that we reminded her of her own son back home. I know she sang “Tie a Yellow Ribbon,” by Tony Orlando and Dawn, and she changed the old oak tree to a naughty body part, and the customers were amused, and I personally was aroused beyond belief. She wore a black cocktail dress, and I believe she had brown hair. She was most likely an average, slightly attractive fortyish woman, but to me she was a goddess, and she was very nice to us, and more or less looked after us for however much time we were there.
In my early twenties, around 1982 or 1983, I saw Donald one more time. It was during my Mr. Cool Doesn’t-Care-About-Anything super burned out alcoholic phase, and although I was glad to see him, it was my role in life to not care, and I don’t remember much about his short visit to the house where I was staying. Over the years, I suppose I didn’t think about him too much, except for one time in the late eighties or early nineties, when I waited on his dad while I worked at Wayzata Perkins.
My father died in March this year, 2014. I gave a speech at his memorial service that included the following:
When I was a kid, my friend Donald had a dad who was a Winnipeg Police Officer. He had to call him "sir," and he was a very intimidating man. When I would stay over at Donald's house, his dad would threaten to force me to cut my hair, and sometimes, he made me cry. When my dad found out about it, he told him in no uncertain terms he was to leave me alone.
Donald's dad said, "you can't like that long hair, that makes him look like a girl," and my dad said, "I don't like it, but it's his choice."
Last night, October 14th, 2014, I got a message on facebook. It was a Don Reid, asking if I was “that” Richard Davidson. I definitely was, and am. He has seen some of the YouTube videos of my band, and approves. We have exchanged a few messages. I will try and make sure we have a phone conversation. I’m not sure if I can call Canada, but I would think I most likely can.
Don commented on the YouTube video of the speech at my father’s memorial service.
Don doesn’t recall his dad wanting me to cut my hair, but then again, why would he? I’m not sure he was always around when his dad would pull that one. I can’t be sure. It was an awful long time ago.
