Bob Wire Has a Point (Under His Cowboy Hat)

Last Year Will Be Hard to Top

By Bob Wire, 1-06-09

	He's actually taller in person! Obama, I mean. (Photo courtesy of Sue Orr)

Not only will be 2008 be remembered as a watershed year in world history, but last year was especially dramatic for my personal life as well. Obama’s election is the obvious high water mark, but there were several other achievements and toe-stubbings that I will always associate with 2008. So here is my obligatory recap of the Best and Worst of 2008.

I already have a big jump on next year’s list: Worst Idea of 2009: Bob Wire writing a blog about breastfeeding.

Okay, let’s get right to it. The number one story is, of course, something none of us thought we’d see in our lifetimes. Overcoming years of oppression and back-of-the-bus treatment, a well-run campaign and the efforts of a charismatic leader finally paid off: the Dolphins made the playoffs only one season after barely getting off the schneid at 1-15. Yes, my beloved Fins, the once-proud franchise that was the home of the greatest quarterback of all time, have bounced back from their nadir to FINALLY rub the Patriots’ noses in it.

Second biggest story: Patriots lose the Super Bowl. So how big is your package now, Tom Brady? Huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

In other sports-related news, I had my usual litany of injuries playing sports I probably should be watching on TV with my brethren and cistern at the Home for Retired Wisenheimers. My torn rotator cuff is well-documented, and the deep snow outside has me thinking of breaking out the snowboard. Last winter I fell so hard during my first snowboarding excursion that I received a concussion. Dain bramage was short-lived, but I did ask Barb to stop off at the courthouse on the way home so I could vote for Ross Perot.

Best Interview: the most fun I had grilling a subject last year was when I got together with Chris and Jimmy from Lazerwolfs to discuss their upcoming album and tour. We convened at the Mo Club, my interrogation room of choice, and went through more pitchers than the Yankees during a late season pennant drive. Inspection of my mustard-stained notes and audio recording the next day yielded about six minutes of germane discussion buried in about three hours of dirty jokes and war stories.  I have been accompanied by a handler on all subsequent interviews with musicians.

Best Proud Papa Moment: There were many, including Rusty being invited to Brainiac Camp at Carroll College; Speaker helping design the Peace Walk at John Colter Elementary, and having Mayor Engen stop by to cut the ribbon; both kids achieving straight A’s in school. But the most exciting moment for me was when Rusty took the stage at Big Sky High School during the First Night Idol prelims there on a Tuesday afternoon. I had joined the judges out in the hallway to discuss our scores, when I heard Smash Mouth’s ubiquitous hit “Allstar” pumping through the walls. The singer sounded suspiciously like Rusty. When I poked my head though the door, I saw him on stage, bathed in the spotlight, working the crowd like a pro. This wispy, red-headed sixth-grader had the crowd of high school kids on their feet, clapping and singing along. I stood there, stunned, with a big dopey grin on my face, watching him enjoy his moment in the sun. Something tells me when he hits puberty it’s going to be a circus up in here.

Worst Parent Moment: Oh, I had my share, believe me. But nothing approached the spectacular boys-will-be-boys triumph of setting Mount Sentinel on fire. We happened to be somewhere along our cross-country road trip when I saw this story on the internet, and I couldn’t believe we’d missed one of the more dramatic local news events of the year. I mean, I’d always wondered how Mount Sentinel, in its crispy, late-summer tinderosity, hadn’t burst into flame before. All it would take is one downdraft pushing a hang glider into the hillside, where the resulting explosion and fireball would set the mountain ablaze. But two kids with a phone book and a Bic lighter? Where the hell were mom and dad? Tell you what, if that had been my kid, you’d see me in my front yard, holding him tightly by the ear, pointing at the charred hillside and saying, “You see that? You owe me one mountain.”

Biggest Relief: Barack Obama winning the election. I have become cynical enough, especially after seeing the 2000 election stolen by the Bushies, to think that the Republican machine could achieve any chicanery, subvert any legal process. But when Obama actually won in an electoral landslide, I was elated. Election Night is one of those “where where you when” moments that I’ll never forget. There’s a ton of work to do, and we’ll be going uphill for a long time, but at least the Republican party is in ashes. We’re finally able to open a window of hope, sweeping the culture of greed, avarice and corruption out of Washington like a corned beef and cabbage fart.

Best New Baby: Carly Rose. Hands down. Bright and beautiful beyond belief, the granddaughter of Motorhead is a shining new star in my galaxy of friends. Congratulations, Eli and Mel.

Best Union Club Show of the year? I’d have to say a Saturday night in mid-November when Tom Catmull and the Clerics were playing. I rolled in there with my band after we’d finished packing up from our own gig, a private party at the Holiday Inn. We arrived just in time to catch their last song, and we jeered them mercilessly. The Country Kings were also there for a post-gig drink, and they joined us in heckling Mr. Catmull and his resilient crew. I also caught up with several other local music luminaries who happened to congregate in the Union Club on this night, and it was like Old Home Week. Probably the most fun 45 minutes I spent in a bar all year, although I almost got beat up by a strident Catmull fan. I think I could have taken her.

Worst Time for a Pedophile Joke: We played Out to Lunch last summer during the Olympics, and I made some crack about enjoying the women’s gymnastics and wondering if that made me a pedophile. I actually saw a few people take their kids and leave. What can I say? If there’s anything you can count on when I’m onstage, it’s that, given enough time, I will eventually say the wrong thing.

Most Expensive Bonehead Move: Rusty was suffering from a white coating on his tongue last spring, and I suspected it might be bacterial growth in his retainer. So I boiled it. When I took it out of the water it looked like a giant IUD. Bummer. I called his orthodontist and was told he was out shopping for another boat.

2009 is off to a slow start, thanks to the flu that swept through the Wire compound the week after Christmas. But we are emerging, one by one, to rejoin Missoula society and trying to contribute our share to the top stories of 2009.

And I swear to god, you won’t hear another word about breastfeeding from me.

[Will Bob keep his word? Find out by bookmarking NewWest.net/BobWire and checking back every day. Now git!]

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