Welcome to ROX

We finally created a ROX page on Facebook.

Not sure exactly what to do with it, but if you're on Facebook become a fan and we'll figure something out together.

Maybe.

— by B | link

There's now a Daisybrain blog, and it's quite delightful. All ROX fans are advised to check it out.

— by B | link

Here is a mix we listen to in our house when someone passes on.

We listened to this last night after getting news that Xy’s grandmother Pauline had finally slipped away after a protracted struggle.

My notes indicate Pauline appeared only in a single episode of our TV show, namely “A Day in the Life,” ROX #63.

Unfortunately this show isn’t on-line yet, but faithful viewers may recall Pauline was not very impressed with her granddaughter’s salsa.

Pauline’s presence loomed large in other parts of the series and my life. She designed the achingly hip jacket Xy wore in ROX #29. And of course it should never be forgotten that she footed the bill for our puppet-show wedding as seen in ROX #41.

It struck me that as Xy no longer has any living grandparents, so too Persephone now has no living great-grandparents. Since two of our friends and contemporaries also lost grandparents over the last couple weeks, it’s feels like the end of a generation.

So long, Pauline. You will be missed.

cross-posted from b.rox

— by B | link

Some of you might remember my grandfather from ROX #37 where J and B and Xy came and made fun of my wedding reception.

He died [yesterday] morning and I wrote this for myself, and in the true ROX tradition am sharing it with relative strangers:

George Wilhelm died this morning.

He was 94 years old, married to Helen Wilhelm for 70 years,. Faithful member of the St Gabriel Catholic Church in Connersville Indiana, employed at Roots Blower Plant for 40 years. He had 2 children, 5 grandchildren, and incalculable numbers of great and great great grand children.

That will be the official obituary, and it is accurate, but like most obituaries, it does no justice to the human who lived the life described.

George Wilhelm was my grandfather, and all the things good and bad ingrained into me as a man came directly from him.

So like most eulogies, this is more about me than him.

They are going to lay the shell he was in, infused and propped up with chemicals and cheap stagecraft in a criminally overpriced ornate box and proclaim that this is George Wilhelm and make us walk by and pay our respects to the effigy of what was once my Grandpa. But that putty and chemical model will not be George Wilhelm.

George Wilhelm is gone.

He is as gone as the small factory he and worked in all his productive adult life.

He is as gone as his hearing and hip joints that working the factory floor making blowers for battleships took from him.

Gone as the dreams he must have had.

Musn't he?

I never heard my Grandfather complain.

If he resented the fact that he worked in the military industrial machine instead of serving in the military in WW2, I never knew it. My Mom’s Dad served in the Pacific and was wounded at Iwo Jima, but Grandpa George never showed envy or jealousy.

He just worked.

EVERY DAY.

He worked until he could not walk without severe pain and until he could not hear the laughter of his grandchildren. He never asked for redress of his handicaps incurred while working all those years.

He just worked.

For 70 years he remained married to what I can only delicately describe as a difficult woman. He never left her, never cheated on her, never went down to the bar and complained about her. He just loved her. Did whatever he could to please her.

He loved his kids, although I’m told my father and he shared a rocky road until my Dad reached adulthood, I don’t know anything about that. He never said anything negative to me or my sister about our Dad, or to my 3 cousins about their Mom.

He hunted and fished, but not for sport. He shot squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional quail to eat. He seemed to enjoy fishing more, but I think it was just the solitude, and the hours spent in quiet repose away from my grandmother.

He was entitled.

I remember his sense of humor at the silliest and obvious things. Hee Haw. Naughty Novelty Pottry. You know those fish that moved and sang “Take me to the River” ? Those were made for my grandfather.

His favorite phrase of endearment was “Turd Bird”.

In fact, long after the rest of my dad’s family assumed I was probably gay, I brought home a woman 8 years older than I with a 7 year old son, and he embraced her as a daughter.

And he called her “Turd Bird” until he died.

When I am asked what my favorite album is in the many pointless conversations I have, I always say “Darkness on the Edge of Town” by Bruce Springsteen. In those songs I hear my grandfather’s story, and my father’s story, and the reasons why I worked so hard to escape their stories. Without making this a much more lengthy rambling piece, I’d ask you to find the record and play it start to finish.. Want to know me, my dad, and George Wilhelm? It's all on “Darkness” – tracks 1-10.

His mother was a Catholic immigrant form Germany. He stayed married longer than I will probably be alive, and I NEVER HEARD HIM COMPLAIN.

I got my desire to do right, to work, and to see things to the finish from George Wilhelm.

I also got my love of sausage and cheese from him. (and physical shape)

I got my respect of women from him, my duty to my family from him, and the wearing of my emotions on my sleeve from him.

Honestly, George Wilhelm has been gone for years. I’m not sure why he hung on so long, and I don’t think he did either . He worked until it broke him physically, yet retained his sense of humor, and he ALWAYS supported and encouraged me in my theater, music, creative, etc efforts. He had fishing, and I had performing

But he is now officially gone, and I am sad, but not heartbroken.

He made my heart stronger than that.

“For those who had a notion,
A notion deep inside.
That it ain’t no sin
To be glad you’re alive.
I want to find one face
That ain’t looking through me
I wanna find one place
I wanna spit in the face of these Badlands.”

Good bye Grandpa.

— by Brad Wilhelm | link

We're so excited we can't keep it a secret any longer. The first season of ROX will soon be available on DVD. Please check back soon for more information.

— by B | link

Yo, big props to Ian Cognito for unearthing this little snippet from Howard Stern's show of April 19th, 1994.

— by B | link

When ROX #85 debuted on the internet, we sent out press releases every which way, and we got quite a bit of coverage, from Time magazine to local media outlets.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but Xy and I ended up on a drive-time radio show in St. Louis, where we were taking a vacation and visiting our friend LoJo.

I'm sure glad we hung on to the audio from that encounter. I think it's worth a listen, not because of our lame attempts at humor, but for what it reveals about how people viewed the internet and the web back in 1995. Times sure have changed.

By the way, did you know that in St. Louis the term "Hoosier" means "white trash?"

— by B | link

I promised some fans I'd post an update about ROX #96, so here goes. This one seems to have stalled out indefinitely in post-production. I feel pretty bad about it. We shot all the necessary video over a year ago. I was all set to edit, but kept running into technical problems. It wasn't just one problem, but like three different problems, all of which combined to really take the wind out of my sails. My daughter had just been born, and when I didn't get the technical issues resolved right away, time started slipping away. Now she's a toddler, and much more of a handful than when she was a newborn baby, so time is even more difficult to come by. It's been so long that I don't even clearly remember what the technical problems were in the first place. These frustrations gave birth to our podcast, which is online at nightcap.rox.com. I still hope to get ROX #96 done some day... I just don't know when.

— by B | link