I’ve told you before about old Mr. Simoneau, the deeply frustrated, angry old coot who lived four doors down from me when I was a kid, and would always end up spoiling my fun. I still can’t, to this day, understand why he went out of his way to make the lives of all the kids in the neighbourhood miserable. Like this one summer day a bunch of friends and I pulled out our hockey sticks, the orange ball and a pair of goals and set up in the street. Well, lo and behold, old Simoneau popped out on his balcony and started yelling at us, convinced we were on the verge of breaking one of his windows. Crazy old bastard lived on the second floor of a three story apartment building, so he was rather secure from a street hockey game.

We sort of brushed him off, for once, and let him have his fit. He eventually went back in, and we thought we had won. It was a nice feeling to know that we had stood up to Simoneau. But it only lasted as long as the arrival of the police, who nicely asked us to go play somewhere else. THE OLD SON OF A BITCH CALLED THE COPS ON US.

But the true revelation came when we went back the next day to play in the exact same spot. As old man Simoneau popped his head out the window and spotted the father of one of my buddies standing there, ready to jump in to keep our right to play intact, Simoneau silently recoiled back into his apartment and stayed there for the rest of the day. Old man Simoneau was a craven worm.

I really wish that instead of an Old Man Simoneau our neighbourhood would have had an Old Man Luedecke. How much cooler would that have been, walking by, waving at him as he sat outside strumming one of his jostling, breezy folk tunes on his banjo, plucking at it both fiercely and melodiously, like he did when he helped Buck 65 out with Indestructible Sam. We’d sit down and listen to him joyfully sing about his eclectic characters, like on Proof Of Love, while, perhaps, offering us a glass of iced tea or some sponge cake. And it wouldn’t be weird because everyone would have loved him due to his authentic approach to music coupled with his quirky, deliberately strong, and passionate delivery of it all.

But no, he was all the way over in Nova Scotia. I was not born in the good province.

MP3: Old Man Luedecke - Proof Of Love

www.oldmanluedecke.ca
myspace.com/oldmanluedecke

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