When I was a kid, the satisfying crux of Christmas was its ritual. Going up to the attic on some ethereally ordained date. Bringing down boxes from another lifetime, before my parents divorced, like an elementary-school-aged mayor unsealing a time capsule every December. There'd be an NFL game on TV, grey sky outside, maybe a flurry or two skipping through bare branches. It being the '70s we had an artificial tree, and it being the only kind of tree we knew, my brother Kevin and I never thought we were missing anything. That tree was crap but I loved every one of its forever mangled, color-coded branches that fit like gnarly pipe cleaners into a green-spray-painted stump. When that tree was upright and adorned with lights the size of XXL eggs I'd stare at it like baby Jesus himself looking up at a sea of wino-looking faces gobsmacked by the kid with a shiny halo around his lumpy skull.
What's this got to do with listening to Asbury Park rock and roll, raising money for charity and drinking the finest craft beer in Melbourne? Nothing, except that as I ponder my motivation for holding five Sundays at the Stone Pony, I realise I'm never happier than the moment I step back from the Local Taphouse's rear wall and gaze upon our pseudo Stone Pony banner hanging exactly as it does in that shitty little brick building on the corner of Ocean Avenue and Second Avenue in Asbury Park. So much of my former life is gone forever but for a few hours the Pony breathes life into my adopted hometown of St Kilda, as far from New Jersey as you can get without boarding a spacecraft. When the first notes of Southside Johnny's 'This Time It's for Real' scream through the speakers I can smell the Atlantic Ocean and sense the ghosts of Palace Amusements and the Casino on the Asbury Park boardwalk of my youth.
I'm going to miss that. Because the magnificent Stone Pony banner that my friend and 'Sunday at the Stone Pony' colleague Piera made back in 2014 will never again grace the Local Taphouse. I'm done trying to tap into whatever fellowship Springsteen's appearance on these shores the past 3 out of 4 years has created. The people have spoken. They don't care. That's life.
We raised a little over $1000 for
Lifeline Australia at Stone Pony V but that was due to the obscene generosity of a handful of attendees -- I'm looking at you, Stewie -- and a large contingent of colleagues from the Intrepid Group who boosted attendance numbers that would have otherwise depressed the fuck out of me.
I wouldn't bother to post about something so wildly successful except for the two women who never, and I mean never, fail to humble me with their selflessness and undaunted spirit. I've already mentioned Piera -- her spiritual sister and rock and roll troubadour is Mary. To me they're literally the finest people I've come to call friends during my ten years in Melbourne.
They're two of the finest humans you'll ever meet. They're both genuine Chris Cornell fans and were devastated by his suicide back in May. We never discussed it but held matching opinions that a suicide prevention organisation would benefit from another Sunday at the Stone Pony. They're shown above speaking about the need to raise awareness about suicide, their experiences as teachers working with vulnerable students, firing people up to throw a couple extra bucks into the coffers.
Thank you both. It's been a good run. And thanks to everyone who's come over the years.
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| Last-minute silent auction preparations. |
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| A small portion of silent auction items. |
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| Mary and Piera even arranged for exclusive Stone Pony V t-shirts to be made. |
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| Selena, Jamie, Piera, Stew and Carly ... legends all. |
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| The Wonder Twins and a Big Galoot. |
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| Dear -- and exceptionally photogenic -- friends Ashmin and Rose. |
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| One last group photo in front of the almighty Stone Pony banner. |
