JonahWeiland.com

During my senior year of high school I found myself over at Coach Huntington’s house one afternoon helping him load up his truck. There was a girl’s softball tournament the following weekend and it was a camp out thing, so there were many supplies needed for this trip. Mr. Huntington’s brother Roland was in town, too, and was helping us out load softball and camping gear into the back of Mr. H’s truck. Mr. Huntington never did anything without music on and this was no exception. The song “Do It Till Your Satisfied” by BT Express was playing on the car radio in the background as we loaded up the back of the truck. Roland struck up some conversation.

“Hey G,” that’s what Roland called his brother, short for Gilbert, the name no one ever called him.

Roland asked, “Hey G, what do you think of the band Boston?

Mr. H responded, “Boston?”

“Yeah, you know, Boston,” said Roland. “You know, ‘More than a Feeling,’ ‘Peace of Mind,’ ‘Don’t Look Back.’ You know, Boston.”

“Boston? Boston? Motherfucker, you is not a pasty white motherfucker. Why the motherfuck are you listening to Boston? What, let me guess, you listen to Chicago, Kansas, Alabama and Huey Lewis, too?”

Roland responded defensively, “How the fuck did Huey Lewis get on that list? He ain’t no location, he’s just a man.”

“Fuck you! Stop trying to switch the subject away from what a nerdy cracker you clearly are,” shot back Mr. Huntington. “Take out Chicago and put that snowflake Bruce Hornsby in if you must.”

“Man, I don’t listen to none of them cats,” said Roland. “I just happen to like Boston. Cmon, yo, you know, (sings) ‘More than a feeeeeelin’, more than a feeeeelin’…”

“No, I don’t know that cuz it’s crappy cracker music.”

“Wait a second, how do you know about all them white bands?”

Mr. Huntington shot back, “I keep up on it all so that I know there’s shit out there that no self-respecting black man should be listening to.”

“What, so there’s not a one white band out there that’s worth anything?”

“I’m not saying that, motherfucker. Rolling Stones. The Beatles. Fucking Elvis.”

Roland responded in agreement, “Fucking Elvis.”

“That’s right. I’m just saying Boston ain’t cool to be listenin’ to. Boston is a cracker band. Those other bands I mentioned, they all got inspiration from the great R&B acts, so they’re cool. You gotta know the difference between cracker music and white music.”

“What about Country,” asked Roland.

“We don’t talk about Country. Except Johnny Cash. Don’t talk no gruff ’bout Johnny Cash.”

Roland responded, “You with that fucking Johnny Cash. Like that boy ain’t white.”

“Brother, Johnny Cash alone could kick the collective asses of the members of Boston,” said Mr. Huntington. “That’s what a bad motherfucker he is. Stop talking smack.”

Roland asked one final question, “Well, what do you think of Steve Winwood?”

At that moment Mr. Huntington pulled Roland off the back of his truck, threw him on the ground and kicked him repeatedly while saying, “Roland, tell me you’ll no longer listen to Boston or Steve Winwood or any other cracker ass band you own the LP of and I’ll stop.”

“Fuck you,” uttered Roland, trying to fight back without much luck.

The beating went on for a good half hour until Roland agreed to go with both of us back to his home and let us witness him destroy every questionable album he owned. The amount of music destroyed that day was legendary– Kenny Logins, Glenn Fry, Bob Seger, Brian Adams, Peter Cetera– all of it destroyed. It truly was the day the (cracker) music died.