Ian Fraser and the Bands That Never Were

The reflections on how many of you met me were quite a gift, and got me thinking about my relationships with all of you. So, without anyone's permission (hah! Ain't the 'net great?), I'm going to start posting my thoughts on what my relationships with you, my dear friends, have meant to me. So, in no particular order (except that in which they come to my addled mind), here starts a series of posts on all (or, well, most) of you out there in Blogland. I'll start with the good doctor, Ian Cook Fraser.

I first met Ian when he was still in high school, and we attended a Bible study at Roy Fahringer's house in Long Beach together. Since I was a Big College Man and he but a kid with a skateboard and a kickass haircut, I didn't hang with him much. I *do* recall hauling his skinny gluteus maximus down to the closest In-N-Out Burger (down the 22 Freeway, what, in Huntington Beach, was it?) about midnight one night in '89 or so, and watching him go somewhat ballistic at some rude comment the drive through guy made to us (a rare occurrence at In-N-Out, to be sure, which certainly warranted Ian's reaction). But none of that really matters. What really matters is when I moved into my apartment on Jacinto, upstairs and directly across the pool from him. This opened up three years of days and nights of hanging until all hours, making our plans for the future.

In our early, heady days, we were not only going to change the world, but cure cancer, solve the Mideast crisis (crises? Those folks never seem to rest), find the women of our dreams and woo and marry them, explore the world, form a world-famous rock band, and, in short, suck the very marrow out of life. (And, yes, it was he I was thinking of when I finally zeroed in on a title for this web page).

As it's turned out, we've only really had success with the women we've married. Ian and I belong to a huge, extended family of friends, basically based out of Bethany Church in Long Beach, California. Our wives, Casey and Katrina, have melded well with the extended family. (For me, the approval process included getting affirmative votes from Karen, Lori-Ann and Jennifer B., all of whom approved of Katrina wholeheartedly, and feel the same way about Mrs. Fraser as well, to be sure).

Although, I guess we've also done pretty well at getting the most out of life. I've always admired Ian's free spirit, even when he feels he's constrained. I've met few men in my life who are as honest, open and free with his feelings as Ian is. As he's often admitted, he wears his heart very boldly on his sleeve, and it's made him an amazing man, one greatly blessed by God, one who doesn't take those blessings for granted.

And, when we thought we were going to be rock stars, we did come up with a number of band names. Granted, I didn't even play guitar then, and I still can't carry a tune in a bucket, so I wasn't really sure what my role in this band would be. Maybe I could just tell chicks, "hey, I'm with THE BAND."

So, some names of Bands that Never Were:

Mr. Misty (named for that freaking STUPID concotion Dairy Queen sells for $2.09)

Hathaway Substation (our apartment complex was right by a road called Hathaway in Long Beach, and there was a power substation nearby, with its name emblazoned in six inch letters on a sign across the front. I personally thought it would be cool because we could have called our first album "Love Hathaway" or "Love, Hathaway").

Um...well, I can't think of anymore, unless Ian can throw some my way. Just suffice to say, he's a beautiful guy, and even though (especially in the early days, when our age difference was more of an issue) he may have felt like he was a Timothy to me, I've always seen him as a Paul in my life - someone to learn from, to look to as an example of humility and grace in action.