During Sylva’s Greening Up The Mountains festival — way back in April — an old friend of mine told me that he liked it when I did Recommended Diversions. I thought that was cool. That not only is someone out there reading what we write; but also that she, or he, is paying attention to whom did the writing. And so, with that in mind, I present:

The Luke W. Edition

Afternoons in the basement, listening to Jenny Schooler belt out Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls On Parade.”

When we were in high school, many an afternoon was spent hanging out in Luke’s basement. The family was more than tolerant of us, the motley gaggle, our ages spanning the four-year spectrum and then some — nervously we admit to factors such as marching band having broken down the almost Orwellian age-based caste system that typically characterizes high school. Most days we’d just chill, sitting out on a tiny patio, clustered together on a renegade couch or lightly perched on the lid of a defunct hot tub. Other days impromptu jam sessions would give way to Gabe or Andrew on the drum set (or anyone else who thought they had rhythm), Luke on bass and Jenny at the microphone screaming out angry rock songs. The glorious madness came to an end when Luke’s house burned down — a story involving an older brother, some incense and some oil paints. At least, that’s what we were told.

Trombones

Smoky Mountain High School’s marching band (era 1997-1998) was a tightly knit group of hoodlums in disguise. We were the good kids, the smart kids and for that, we got away with a lot we probably shouldn’t have, because really, who ever suspects the good kids? (Those in SMHS’s class of 1999 saw that theory blown to pieces — pardon the pun — when a local port-a-john received a bit more than its fair share of abuse at the hands of some bored overachievers ...) But all that aside. Luke played a mean trombone the likes of none I’ve quite heard before. In honor, I recommend picking up some Tommy Dorsey (1930s and 40s swing) or J. J. Johnson (the voice on Miles Davis’ 1949 album Birth of the Cool) to put you in the appropriate mood.

Saying To Hell With Societal Conventions

Luke is about 6’2” and weighs less than twice that in inches. He’s blond — not David Hasslehoff “I put lemon juice in my hair” blond — but blond! He is at once Le Petit Prince and an exotic snake, languidly, liquidly unfolding its self from a limb in a baobab tree. Point being, he’s one of the most “comfortable in his own skin” people I’ve ever known. Go out and test your own limitations. Wear your PJs to the movies. Purposely buy weird assortments of goods at the grocery store — whip cream, duct tape, garden shears — which is best if carried out without a word, at least twice a day, always using the same cashier. Find a good polka tape (requirement: must include the “Chicken Dance”), roll down the windows and crank the bass at every traffic light. But most importantly — laugh.

— Sarah Kucharski