Month: February 2016

Tank Man

I love my extended family.  I grew up with some of the best cousins a guy could ask for.  Coop, Corey, Jared, Dusty, Trent…..Mike and Ashley were younger but me and Mike get to spend a lot of time together in adulthood.  I’ve come close to ending Ashley’s life a couple of times but she is the only girl so what can I say?  I grew up idolizing my uncle Greg and still do in a lot of ways.  My Untee Ann and I have always had a lot in common, including our sense of humor.  Nancy and I have always loved the same movies.  Speedy was the best pony league baseball coach in Camilla Rec Ball history.  He wore the shortest shorts too.  Had a lot of great times with Bean and Sla too.  But the two men responsible for this whole crazy thing have always been at the top of my list.  My papa, Charles and my granddaddy, Grover.  For now, I’m going to focus on Grover.  Charles will get his own story too soon.

Grover Shiver was a one of a kind man.  I’m sure everyone’s grandfather is but this man was unlike anybody I’ve ever met.  First, I don’t recall meeting many people that didn’t like him.  I’m sure there were some because he didn’t mind telling it like it was.  He was stubborn, kind, tough, loving, funny, serious, all wrapped into one.  He kinda had to be with the kids he had around him.  I’m lucky to have ever met him at all based on the wild stories we heard about how our parents drove him nuts.  I think he got his revenge on them quite often though.

I may get some details of this one wrong but the meat is what it’s all about.  My dad and uncle speedy had bicycles that apparantly had no handlebar cushions.  Not a rarity in those days I understand.  They were no doubt just like most brothers who liked to antagonize each other.  One of them was riding the bike while the other decided it would be a good idea to chase the bike rider with a snake (could’ve been a dead chicken, I don’t remember).  One key part of the story is that Grover had a nice vehicle.  Nice.  Let’s just say the game got out of hand and the metal handle bars did not mesh well with the side of that car.  Not a recipe for a good time.  I think my dad said that’s the worst whoopin he’d ever gotten.  It was either that event or the time he and Speedy flooded the house.  Yeah.

Granddaddy had an awesome but rather twisted sense of humor.  He was always looking to prank somebody.  In his older days, it was hiding behind doors and in closets scaring the grandkids.  If I ever walked in and he wasn’t in his chair, I was on red alert.  My sonar was pinging like crazy.  It didn’t matter though because the hiding spot was always different.  He would even move his vehicle to the back of the house to make you think he wasn’t home if he knew you were coming.  He pulled out all of the stops.  I can still hear his deep bellows from some dark part of the house, inviting you to try to find him.  It was too much to resist and it always turned out scaring you even though you knew what was happening.  That was tame compared to some of the pranks he pulled on others.  Dad told me about 4 am water gun soakings as granddaddy would get ready to go to work.  He’d bust in the room and soak them down in their beds. The way Dewey likes to sleep, I would think that made them even for the car damage.

Another classic was the stuffed rattlesnake.  He drove a gas truck for a living and would carry this rattlesnake with him to scare people.  He would set the snake up in the floorboard of the truck and ask some attendant or tank worker to go get something out of the truck.  It was someone handpicked that was afraid of snakes I’m sure. The door would open and that rattlesnake would be staring eye to eye with them in a strike pose.  He’s lucky no one ever had a heart attack.  Others fell victim to his hot coins.  Most people know that it gets smoldering hot in our neck of the woods.  Cars are even hotter.  He would get out at the store he was hanging out at and place coins on the hood of his car.  Then he would go inside and wait for someone to see the coins and decide they wanted them.  It was always hot potato and he would be seen laughing.  That is one thing about all of his pranks.  He could not hide who was responsible.  The laugh always gave it away.

Even though he would give himself away with the pranks, he had an excellent poker face when it came to fibs.  He could have you believe almost anything.  Of course, a lot of times that would lead you to trying to do something you had no business doing and that would lead to the laugh.  His go to when we would be fishing was the monster catch.  His favorite fishing was bream fishing.  Everybody knows they don’t grow very big.  They are just small panfish.  Now there are big bream but the species is not large.  The big ones he called “titty bream” because you’d have to hold them against your chest to take them off of the hook.  It didn’t matter what size he would catch though, you would think he had a Marlin and it would take him about that long to pull it in.  He used bream busters well after rod and reels became popular and he would play with the same ole small fish on the pole while you caught three fish.  “Get the net” he would say.  I’m pretty sure Aesop had him in mind when he wrote “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.”

One of the coolest things for me was when he would let me shave him for a dollar.  He’d give me the electric razor and lean back in his chair and get me to shave him.  Looking back, he was quite the crude businessman.  One dollar saved him quite a bit over the years in comparison to a barber shop.  But to me at the time, I would have done it for free.  He would let us do a lot of what we thought were grown up things.  I remember him letting us drive around the neighborhood when we could barely reach the pedals.  I had a little bit of an advantage over the others because I lived right down the street.  I was off to his house almost daily.  I spent as much time there as I did my own house for many years.  We’d sit in that living room and watch the Braves, NASCAR, drag racing and fishing shows.  

He taught me a lot about life too.  They weren’t things that I picked up on immediately but there are things I do today that make me think of him and something he would do.  He did right.  He worked hard, took care of his family, loved his grandkids and kept his name in good standing.  He was a man of his word and people knew that.  He had friends across multiple generations and races.  He was a man’s man in every sense of the word.  He would work his tail off and would still have fun when it was over.  He owned a room with his laughter and jokes.  He was what I want to be everyday.

My dad is very similar to how my granddaddy was so I had double exposure.  I am thankful for that though because my girls never got the chance to meet my granddaddy.  But he lives on through Dewdah.  In June of 1997, grandaddy passed away after a brutal fight with Leukemia. He had some tough health issues later in life and it took a toll on him.  I watched that disease take away the prankster.  It wore him out.  I remember when he was in his bed the last few days.  The family was all gathered and spent time with him.  He had friends come and see him and he would light up and reminisce.  When they were gone, he would be spent.  I’m pretty sure he got to see everyone he wanted to see before it was time for him to go.  All of his kids stayed in his house the last night he was alive.  The grandkids stayed at mine.  We got the phone call in the middle of the night and went down to his house to say goodbye.  That is still the saddest time in my life I can remember.  He was such a strong man to me.  To all of us.  None of us were ready but he was.  The night after his funeral, I spent the night at his house and stayed up sitting in his chair and watching tv.  I guess that was my way of saying goodbye even though I didn’t realize it then.  I miss him a lot.  I think about him often.  When I go back to his house I imagine he is off in some dark room planning to scare me.  I loved that man!  My girls would have loved him.  And I know he would have loved them too.  

Joey

A Time For Forgiveness

  Even though Tecmo Super Bowl came along in 1991, the year wasn’t all good, all the time.  I debated on writing this one because I still have a little anger pent up about it.  I wrote a term paper on this subject in college and I thought that would be the grand demon exercising I needed.  Well, some 25 years later, I still think of it.  I don’t even know how I remember it so vividly.  Aside from the fact that me and my friends harped on it continuously, a lot of time has passed and a lot of good times replaced it.  Hell, the very next year was one of the greatest plays in Braves history.  But 1991…..I just can’t shake it.  Lonnie Freakin Smith will go with me to my grave.

Let me start by saying that I was raised on Atlanta Braves baseball.  We watched them every night, sometimes at supper, sometimes later when they were on the west coast.  But the Braves were on at the Shiver house religiously.  And they stunk!  For the first 14 years of my life, they were atrocious.  I have seen pictures of us at games from when I was too young to really remember details.  We were sitting right behind the dugout because you could probably pick any seat you wanted in those days. They had one superstar, Dale Murphy.  That was it.  Gerald Perry, Albert Hall, Claudell Washington, Glenn Hubbard, Bob Horner, Rafi Ramirez??  They were our boys but they were role players.  They were our home team though and were broadcast on national television thanks to the owner, Ted Turner, also owning a major television network, TBS.  The only other team I could see on a regular basis was the Cubs.  They didn’t have lights in there stadium in those days so they played all day games when they were at home.  I could only catch them right after school.  And guess what?  They stunk too.  Although, they actually had two superstars – André Dawson and Ryne Sandberg.  There was another tie in between the teams as well with Harry Carey being the broadcaster for the Cubbies and Skip Carey for the Braves.  

  The Braves finished dead last in 1990.  Nothing unusual.  The Reds won the World Series and they were loaded.  Chris Sabo, Eric Davis, Jose Rijo, Barry Larkin.  The Braves?  They had some young talent but it wasn’t enough.  But in 1991, something crazy happened.  The Atlanta Braves found themselves in a pennant race with the LA Dodgers.  It was spectacular.  With an offense that included young stars Ron Gant and David Justice and veterans Sid Bream, Otis Nixon and Terry Pendleton, they were exciting to watch.  But the pitching rotation was strong.  John Smoltz, Tom Glavine and Steve Avery anchored a staff that also included crafty veteran Old Uncle Charlie.  They were the poster child for the saying “Pitching wins championships.”  Those Braves went right down to the wire and edged the a Dodgers by one game the day before the end of the regular season to clinch the division and a playoff spot.  Playoffs?  Are we talking about Playoffs? 

 Something notable would happen in September of that year.  Starting centerfielder and stolen base leader (72 – still a Braves record), Otis Nixon, would be suspended for 60 days thanks to a failed drug test.  Cocaine is a helluva drug.  Because it happened in September, it was bye-bye playoffs for Otis.  We had a backup centerfielder that was pretty good named Deion Sanders but on August 1 of that year, he had to report to the Atlanta Falcons thanks to his dual sport ability.  With Otis and Deion unavailable, that crucial starting slot would be filled by Lonnie “Skates” Smith.  Now, to be clear, Lonnie was a very serviceable player.  He was an all star one year, a 3 time WS champ and had hit over .300 in ’89 and ’90.  But, he was nicknamed Skates for a reason.  He had a bit of a reputation for making some of the silliest looking plays you’d ever see.  He’d lose his footing enough to be compared to an outfielder playing on “skates.”  Not a comparison you want as a baseball player in my estimation. 

Lonnie performed well late in the season and was a key contributor to the playoff run.  Then, in the NLCS, he would contribute a paltry .250 avg.  He was a non factor in that series for the most part.  Something I wish he had been in the World Series.  Because we were such faithful Braves fans, the playoffs turned into party central at our house.  The entire family came over to watch the games.  There was food, baseball and, during boring stretches, a little basketball for me and Coop.  That is until Uncle Lee used the first thing he could find to the rear-end to discuss Adams report card.  That wound that up.  But the excitement for those games will go unmatched for me.  I get excited for games, especially UGA, but the whole family being together put this on another level.

That 1991 World Series between Atlanta and the Minnesota Twins was voted the greatest World Series ever by ESPN.  The seven game series finished with FIVE 1-run games, with four of them being decided in the last at bat and three of them going to extra innings.  The series was loaded with dominant pitching and clutch hitting.  Only one game was a blowout.  You want highlights?  This series provided some classics.  Game 2 was the infamous Ron Gant/Kent Hrbek pile up.  I don’t care what anyone says, to this day I know in my heart of hearts that Hrbek pulled Gant off of the base. 

 Twenty years later, Minnesota was still celebrating that act of cowardice with bobble heads. 

 Shameful…..Minnesota would win that game by 1 run to take a 2-0 lead in the series.  Atlanta would take the next 3 in Atlanta with Lonnie hitting 3 home runs and almost making a highlight play of his own at home plate but Brian Harper somehow miraculously hung on to the ball to keep the game alive at the time for Minny. 

 Minnesota would come back home and win game 6 with the heroics of Kirby Puckett’s extra innings home run.  Puckett was the lone Twin that I liked.  He was a great ball player and played the game the right way.  Unfortunately, he played for the Twins.  Those other guys were thugs.  Kent Hrbek, Dan Gladden, Gary Gaetti…..come on.

So here we are at Game 7.  Series is tied 3-3, the home team has won every game so far.  We have John Smoltz, who had been lights out in the playoffs facing Jack Morris, who had been even more lights out.  For 9 innings, these aces would duel each other masterfully.  At the end of 9, the score was tied 0-0.  It shouldn’t have been.  In all actuality, the game should have ended after 9 innings with the Braves winning 1-0 and taking the Series trophy back to Atlanta.  That’s where Skates steps in.  I can feel my heat rate going up.  In the top of the 8th, Lonnie was on 1st with nobody out and Terry Pendleton at the plate.  TP laces a shot to left center field that clearly was going to score Lonnie, who had solid wheels.  Wait, where is Lonnie?  He’s at 3rd?  What happened?  How?  The replays would show that Lonnie got deeked by that worm of a second baseman Chuck Knoblauch as he was approaching the turn.  Knoblauch faked a toss to 2nd, completely throwing Skates off of his game.  A bush league play in game 7 of the World Series just made our veteran look like a tool. 

 As the ball bounced off the wall, Skates stood motionless at 2nd base for almost 3 solid seconds.  That is a long time on the base path.  He was held up at 3rd.  No run, still 0-0.  Now, an argument can be made that any one of the following batters could have brought Lonnie in as there were no outs when this happened.  But no. I believe in momentum in sports.  We clearly lost it at that moment.  Gant, Justice and Bream were due up after Skates.  A ground out by Gant, an intentional walk to Justice and a double play by Bream sealed our fate.  The Twins would score in the 10th inning to win the World Series and complete the collective smashing of hearts across the south.  But it should have turned out different.  It shouldn’t have ended that way.  

The Braves would go on an unbelievable run of 14 consecutive division titles and multiple World Series appearances, eventually winning one in 1995.  But 1991 will stick in my mind as the one that got away.  There were so many opportunities in that series, it’s almost unfair to pick out just one.  But this one remains in my conciousness like the stench of an old baby bottle left in the car on a hot summer day.  Yeah, it makes me sick.  At times I feel bad for Skates because it turned out that he had his own demons.  I’m sure it isn’t the easiest thing to live with either.  But then I picture him standing still at 2nd base staring into the outfield and I lose all empathy.  I guess I’m selfish about the whole situation.  But we were so close.  So close Skates…..I need this more than you do but I forgive you Lonnie Smith.  What’s done is done.  I just had to get it off my chest one last time.

Joey

Ink Obsession

  How do you feel about tattoos?  That’s a question that could elicit a myriad of responses.  Over my 38 (so close to 39) years, they have gone from forbidden to subcultural to now just a normal part of culture.  As a young guy, I never imagined having any.  I didn’t really know many people that did except for relatives who had been in the military.  And those were mostly your standard issue anchors or swords or something.  I still don’t know another Shiver with a tattoo besides me or my brother.  Pam and Dewey raised a couple of hellions.  On the other hand, the Kelly side of the family has gotten all inked up over the years.  

My first tattoo was the ever popular barb wire when I was 21.  Talk about generic.  It was the act of getting one that was the big thing for me.  I had thought about it for a while and was pretty heavy into rock music where it was becoming a little more visible.  I was experimenting with various hair colors and styles so the time was ripe to check out tattoos.  This was 1998 when tattoos were not nearly as popular as they are now.  I went by myself, because Leslie bailed on me at the last minute, to American Horse on Broad Ave and took a look at the designs available in the various books.  That would be the first and last time I ever did that.  I was extremely unprepared.

From what I understood, Horse was an old school tattoo artist with a good reputation.  But I was nervous without a doubt.  There was a client in the chair when I got there so I waited in the front of the shop.  I heard some commotion while I waited and it made me a bit more anxious.  Then, without warning, the client comes out of the back, shirtless, with half of a panther on his chest, with what I could only guess were tears in his eyes.  This guy was rather large too.  My decision at that moment looked like one of the dumbest ever.  Could I back out at this point?  Could I possibly go through with it?  Horse came out with a smile on his face and said “Don’t worry about that guy.  He thought he was a badass.  I’ll go easy on you.” That was the moment that I learned my first lesson of the tattoo’d life.  The man with the tattoo machine is in control and he deserves your utmost respect and attention when your skin is in his hands.  

So I trusted him and I went through with it.  It was not the most pleasant thing I had ever done but it wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be.  There was something strangely enjoyable about it at the time.  I don’t know if it was because I was actually going through with it or if it was just the fact that I made it through without walking out.  The outer arm is not nearly as sensitive as the chest but I felt a nice sense of accomplishment by completing the sitting.  I was pleased with the way it turned out and couldn’t wait to update my wardrobe with new sleeveless shirts.  Again, I was 21 and it was my first tattoo.  Then came the aftercare.  I didn’t realize the transformation the skin would go through over the next couple of weeks.  It basically all died where the tattoo was and peeled away revealing the smooth finished product.  But I went through a lot of lotion during that 2 week period keeping it conditioned.  Also had to keep it out of the sun during the dead of summer.  The first tattoo was a weird experience and I remember so much about those first couple of weeks.  I remember the bathroom mirror I stood in front of at Princeton Place checking it out.  I can still see the young version of me taking it all in.  

I have learned a lot about tattoos since that first one.  I’ve learned that a lot of thought should go into the reason you are about to permanently alter your skin.  I’m now at 5 total, 6 if you count the one that now covers the barb wire I got so many years ago.  You wouldn’t even know I ever had it now unless you look at old pictures.  More and more thought goes into my tattoos every time I add one.  They may seem meaningless to some that see them but that isn’t the point.  I’ve learned that the tattoo isn’t for others to like or dislike.  It’s for me to give an image that I like some life or meaning on my body.  Would you be surprised if I told you that the Deftones inspired all but one of my tattoos?  While they may seem only Deftones related, each one has a deep meaning to me and help paint a picture of various times in my life that were pivotal in my growth.  Too cheesy and deep for you?  Well, that’s part of loving tattoos.  They better mean something or you’ll start questioning what the hell you are doing.  

As I began thinking about my second tattoo, I was researching shops more.  I found a shop that I felt could be a place I could return to over and over, The Tattoo Shop on Slappey Blvd.  And I found an artist that could help take my thoughts of those Deftones images and make them unique to my skin.  That artist was Stan Getek.  He has now tattooed me 5 times and will be the only person to tattoo me unless he retires before I’m done.  I have a shop and an artist that I know will take care of me.  All of that is part of what I have learned since that first sitting.  When you get a tattoo, you are making a lifetime investment so you better be comfortable and trust the person doing it.  

My second tattoo was the white pony and star on my back.  A bit of evolution from the generic barb wire from my first visit.  The Deftones were now a part of me and I was showing the world that.  The pony and star have multiple meanings in culture but for me, it has always represented freedom.  The wild nature of the horse bolting through the star.  For the time I got it, it represented where I was at in life.  The next tattoo was a family tree after Bailey was born on the arm opposite the barb wire.  A large oak tree with individual carvings in the trunk to represent me, Alicia and Bailey.  I am currently working on the image to be added for Georgia to complete the family image.

After the third one, I realized that the experience I was enjoying was more than the tattoo.  There were so many senses in motion during the process.  I have made my love of music known in this forum and Stan has very good taste in that department and pumps music during the session.  He is a quiet man but when the tattoo is in process, the room is filled with the sound of rock/punk music and the steady buzzing of the tattoo needles.  It’s a sound that is very soothing to me.  It’s as relaxed as you can possibly be while needles are popping your skin.  Then there are the smells.  Sounds crazy but it’s real.  The smell I remember each time is that of clean metal and the antiseptics that are used during the entire process.  I don’t know what all of it is, but the smells are very distinct and I’ve become somewhat addicted to the entire setting.  Lastly, the feeling of the process.  I can’t explain what it feels like.  Does it hurt?  I’d say yes.  Is it agony?  No.  It’s a very strange sensation that you only understand when you feel it. Two of the last three tattoos I have gotten have been longer sessions and eventually, the skin just relents and tells you that it’s had enough. But until then, it’s really a feeling that is a calming pain.  

As I realized that I was becoming addicted to the process, I decided to begin exploring a cover up to the barb wire.  It was time to leave that one in the past and expand on the growing story on my skin.  The skull and roses were large and colorful and was able to blend right over the barb wire.  This was also a time in my life where depression was a constant and the skull was able to represent those feelings of hopelessness and fear.  The roses were the love that I felt around me from family and friends that kept me motivated to dig out of the dark phase I was in.  It is the largest and most colorful tattoo I have, which is fitting for what was likely the most volatile time of my life so far.  As I came out of that period, the next tattoo formed rather easily because of an image that was stuck in my head over the previous years.  The problem was that I was running out of space.  Working in a professional environment is not conducive to the tattoo enthusiast.

Stan recommended the location for the bandaged deer to be on the chest.  I immediately had flashbacks to my trip to American Horse.  But by this time, my faith in my artist trumped those fuzzy memories.  I went through with it and it was actually one of the least painful tattoos I have gotten.  The symbolism of the two deer bandaged but intertwined represented Alicia staying true and by my side through the dark depression times.  Although we were both worn out and bruised, the love was as strong as ever.

My most recent tattoo is probably my favorite in a visual sense.  The owl on my inner arm was also the most painful.  It was truly a test of my will to make it through that one.  There are more sensitive areas than the inner arm but I don’t have any tattoos in those places.  The ribs are supposed to be the worst but that won’t happen unless I have completely exhausted the rest of my skin.  The finished product was worth every second of the process.  Stan created this owl from a few conversations we had and a couple of looks at various Deftones images.  It is truly unique and to me represents the time I have been able to once again spread my wings and use the knowledge I’ve gained over the years to keep pushing along the right path.

My next one has already been developed in my mind and Stan has been given notice.  It will happen sometime before the summer and will embody yet another phase of my life.  I wish I could get it tomorrow but the timing has to be right.  That first trip to American Horse was rushed and not well planned.  Each of my tattoos have become more complex and meaningful and take more than just getting in the car and driving to the shop.  This may all sound corny to most of you but it means something to me.  I’m not an artist but I am able to have someone else take my thought process and give it a heartbeat.  

A lot of time has passed since that first tattoo.  My body, mind and soul has changed over that time and I am positive the tattoos I have gotten over the years have told the story of those changes.  Hopefully, I will have many more to look forward to but for now, the next one is the most important.  This is by far the most personal post I have made but that’s what each one is to me.  A personal story being told over years of change and growth.  And it’s almost time for the next chapter.

Joey