homecba Brianba Cousin B cb Ancestral Voicesan prod infocbr




   'Cousin B' (which is long for 'B') was born on St.
Swithins Day in 1957 to loving mom, 'M', and dad,
'R'. A normal kid growing up on Detroit's East side,
'B' attended elementary school at 'Our Lady of the
Holy Paddle' and went on to graduate from the
prestigious 'East-by-Northeast Catholic' High in '75,
(where he had been awarded a Curling Scholarship).

    Later, he went on to midnight studies at Harvard
and Yale, ostensibly by breaking into classrooms,
libraries and professor's offices. (Although he holds
no degree from these fine schools, the photos and
copied record books have proven quite profitable.)

    Then, one momentous weekend in 1977, a bizarre
turn of events unfolded.

    Cousin 'B, already on the fourth day of a
macro-biotic diet, had waited a long time for tickets
to this matinee Red Wings hockey game, and he
wasn't about to miss it.

    So it's midway through the first period when the
guy behind him decides to light up a smoke. As the
man innocently reaches for his beer, his cigarette
brushes Cousin 'B's hair, startling him to his feet.

    Just as Nick Libett's slap shot from the point was
being deflected.

    Did you know that if a puck hits you just right,
you won't need stitches?  

    Well, they gave him a free beer and a program,
and Eddie Giacomin gave him an autograph. The
team doctor said he would be OK, and just take him
home to rest, which his friends eventually did.

    After the 'Kiss/Mahogany Rush' concert in
Toledo. (On reflection, many later say, the day-old
Orange Julius and Lime vodka was, maybe not a
good idea after all.) The zombified Cousin 'B'
appeared to come back to life momentarily, but a
broken guitar thrown from the stage soon put a stop
to all that.

    They gave him a free beer and a program and the
box office manager gave him her phone number.
The Tour Manager said he would be OK if his
friends just took him home to get some rest, which
they eventually did.

    When the after-hours Hamtramck coffee house
open-mic was over.

    In later years, friends who were there have
claimed that he caught a falling pitcher of beer in
mid-air while sound asleep, without spilling a drop,
and then, waking briefly, he took the stage. After
reciting two original poems, he proceeded to play
Mozart's Magic Flute Variations on a borrowed
guitar, oblivious of the fact that he had neither played
the song before.

    Afterwards, as he lay sleeping peacefully in the
back seat, they finished breakfast and took him
home. He went immediately to bed.

    For three days.

    When he awoke, like an epiphany, Cousin 'B'
knew his true calling.

    He would play lead guitar for the Detroit Red Wings.

    Or he would be the #1 goalie for Motown.

    The details were still a bit sketchy, but he was on
to something.

    Actually, the team, and the NHL, for that matter,
were very kind about the whole thing and even
recommended some competent psychiatrists.

    Sadly, even greater disappointment lay in store at
Hitsville, USA.

    After settling out of court and paying for the
skate marks in the studio floor, Cousin 'B'
embarked on a nation-wide search for
enlightenment, playing guitar in various ice rinks
and being arrested at various music stores.

    And to this day, Cousin 'B' remains at large,
wandering in pursuit of gigs and free ice time. You may
see him in your town, playing goalie for some
pick-up game that's short a netminder at the last
minute, or singing Strange Brew' at a jam session in
some little honkeytonk.

    To this day, he works tirelessly to defend the
middle ground. Occasionally, he shares his music
and insights with the public. As long as you learn,
think, laugh or cry, the first joke's on him.


c. 2000 Pegwood Arts all rights reserved


Table of Contents         next essay

homecba Brianba Cousin B cb Ancestral Voicesan prod infocbr