It seems like OMD’s song “Maid of Orleans” and how it might have been overlooked is not uncommon; many significant events, whether in music, art, or other fields, can sometimes be overlooked or not receive the recognition they deserve in their time.

When I heard this song back in 1981, I was living in Noank, CT with my best friend, George (God rest his Soul). We were different in many ways but loved the same music. Whenever I listen to this song, I am transported back to that small town, living hand to mouth, opting to ride my bicycle to work to save on gas (~$1.35/gal) and spending what little we earned on music and drinking at Chucks until closing, failing miserably to pick up girls. But in our defense, I don’t think it was us, personally. You see, we smelled like fish 24×7, having worked at Mystic Aquarium. But wandering home from Chucks, four-sets of taillights in our vision, we left our “ducks” on the front porch, where even the stray cats stayed away from our boots. After a shower and change of clothes, one of us would slip on a white glove and remove an album from our collective stash then spin music finto the late morning (for medicinal reasons).

Excerpt from “Mystic Men” (WIP)

In memory of George “Gil” Lavigueur – Sept. 27, 1957 – May 13^th, 2012

My best friend

The day everything began to unwind,the color of the water around Fort Wetherhill in Jamestown, RI was a Payne’s Grey.  I remember that because it was the same color as the sky and there was no horizon line for either.   To say it was cold that morning was an understatement.  The sky felt as heavy as lead and If the cove had remained still for even a minute it would have frozen over.  

I remember it being the first day of January because we had just celebrated 1981 the night before, closing Chucks as usual. Leaving alone as usual, not remembering how we got home, as usual.

Diving was a great way to work off a hangover and while the recreational diver was at home on a day like this, drinking their coffee in front of the fireplace and watching reruns of Jacque Cousteau, George and I were about to enter the water on the western side of the hill. We were the real deal; Marine Biologists making $10,000 a year before taxes.  We stopped off at a coffee shop on the way, ordering two black coffees, each; one for us the drink, the other to pour into our wetsuit just before we entered the water…..