Showing posts with label Radio Hauraki. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Radio Hauraki. Show all posts

Saturday, September 20, 2025

Blinded by the Light

“Blinded by the Light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing).

What?

“Blinded by the Light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing).

What?

Love that Manfred Mann’s Earth Band song. Always cranked it on Radio Hauraki when it was played. The Chopsticks variation melody, the pulsating of the cymbals in the opening—the chances for air guitar during the guitar riffs—“Blinded by the light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing plus air guitar).

Whoa, mate, hold those verbal horses. What did you sing in the second line?

Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night.

Nah, mate. “Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.”

Not even, ow. I’ve been stuffing that up forever. Cut me some slack, bro; I’m as old as vinyl.  As Mr. Morgan, my English teacher, would say: “Lad, you’ve just committed a monk’s degree.”

Mondegreen…oh, you’re taking the piss out of me.

Any chance I can. Seriously, I didn’t know the correct lyrics. In fact, one of the reasons I loved “Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band” was that the lyrics were printed on the back cover of the album. And lemme guess: “deuce” is not a tennis reference?

A "deuce” coupe is a classic 1932 Ford two-door car.

My poppa worked for Bignell & Holmes, a Ford dealership in Gisborne, New Zealand. I wonder if he ever serviced one of those bad boys!

While we have the engine revving, there’s more: Manfred Mann’s Earth Band “Blinded by the Light” is a cover. It was written by Bruce Springsteen.

I’m gobsmacked. New Jersey’s favourite son—The Boss.

Yeah, bro. It appeared on his ’73 debut album, Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J.

Well, aren’t you the DJ du jour. If we’re going old school, then I’m going old school of yore! No rock songs, no rock stars, no rock concerts—just rocks on the Road to Damascus.

Road to Damascus?

Yes, wasn’t there a bloke also blinded by the light?

Saint Paul. It can happen when you look at The Son of He who proclaimed, “Let there be light.

Is it blasphemous for me to say, “Let us be lighthearted”?

No. God has a sense of humour. For me, it’s a fascinating subject. You know physical light acts as both a particle and a wave.

Well, aren’t you the physicist du jour; a regular Albert Einstein. Enlighten me.

His famous equation—E=mc2—does include light. Have you ever thought about what it means?

It’s on my mental to-do list. Right up there after memorizing pi. For now, I’m still trying to figure out how we got from Springsteen to Einstein.

Spinning a yarn. Basically, Einstein shows that the energy of any object is equal to its mass multiplied by the square of the velocity of light.

186,000 miles per second.

You did stay awake in physics at KBHS. From the equation we can determine that the speed of light is a mathematical constant. That the mass of an object increases with its velocity, and that it can never achieve the speed of light.

Not even hooning around on the back roads of West Auckland?

No, bro.

(Singing): “But, Mama, that’s where the fun is!”

Between bros, only an object with infinite mass could equal the speed of light.

Sounds metaphysical.

I’ll let you know when I get there.


© 2025






Monday, November 4, 2024

Do You Believe in Magic?

Do you believe in magic?

The song by The Lovin’ Spoonful—[singing]“Believe in the magic that can set you free”—I used to crank it up whenever it played on Radio Hauraki.

I do. With grace, goodwill, and a propitious text to a dear friend in the know, I arranged for a magician to perform for mi suegro, Don Miguel, who was gravely ill in the hospital. My father-in-law loves magic.

And who was “el mago”? 

Brian Ochab.

Brian Ochab.

Brian Ochab.

We say his name three times—

And the magic happens. Don Miguel’s grandson Chris had wanted to take him to The Magic Castle in Hollywood, California, but his health was too poor. So, on a Sunday afternoon at three, The Magic Castle—Brian Ochab—came to Don Miguel’s sixth-floor hospital room at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center on Sunset Boulevard.

Brian Ochab is a world-class magician. Look him up…earned the title of International Magic Champion…first place award at the International Brotherhood of Magicians’ Gold Cups Competition…People’s Choice Award from the Society of American Magicians.

Sweet as. Mate, I’m all rabbit ears. What happened?

What happens in a magician’s den/hospital room stays there.

I will say that the first hint of Brian’s wizardry was how the spatial dimensions of the room transcended. The hospital room was big enough for two guests; however, when Brian Ochab got there, it was standing room only for the seventeen magic enthusiasts present: Don Miguel, his esposa, his hijo, two hijas, yerno, six nietos, bisnieto, hermano and his hija, her esposo and their hijo. And mum’s the word on el médico and the nurses poking their heads from behind the curtain.

And ironically the greatest magic Brian Ochab performed wasn’t a trick at all.

Huh?

For one hour, Brian Ochab took our individual base-laden grief at Don Miguel’s condition and transmuted it into a golden moment in time. We all got to share in Don Miguel’s delight at seeing a world-class magician perform his craft at the tip of our noses. We all got to celebrate in Don Miguel’s life together. 

Now that’s magic.

Magic.

Sing it with me:

“Believe in the magic that can set you free.”

Epilogue:

On Monday, October 28, 2024, at 10:30 p.m., with a divine sleight of hand, el Mago Divino made Don Miguel disappear in his hospital room right before his loving familia and me.

© 2024

Stephen J. Groak Books:

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