Dorothy Richmond is founder of the Dear Neighbor column and a longtime resident of Cedar-Isles-Dean.
Dear Neighbor,
It’s October. Already the holiday assault has arrived: stores, ads, mindsets — leaving many of us wide-eyed and perhaps horrified at the prospect of the most wonderful time of year.
The biggest hurdle often involves gift-giving. Kids’ presents are easy. Unless there’s a Cabbage Patch Kids or Tickle Me Elmo frenzy afoot, Barbies, books, and board games can be found right up to the last moment. Gifts for adults who seem to “have everything” are trickier. I’m one of them, at a place in life where I get a bigger thrill from getting rid of things than acquiring them. My wants and needs have merged.
My daughters are marvelous at treating me, knowing well my two favorite gift categories: consumables and events. Consumables are simple — jugs of iced coffee, unwaxed dental floss (why is it so hard to find?), fancy soaps, black-ink pens. Last Christmas, they gave us tickets to see Weird Al Yankovic, who performed in June at Treasure Island Casino in Welch, near Red Wing. A night out with my girls is what makes a great gift magnificent.
I fell in love with Weird Al’s genius in 1995, on a road trip with my friend Kay. She was on a business trip in Santa Fe and invited me to meet her afterward. We spent a few days exploring the city, then drove up to Bandelier National Monument. Kay had a pile of cassettes in her car, and as I pawed through them — no, nah, nope, ick — there was Weird Al. Yes! I’d always liked him, but he hadn’t yet reached my top shelf like Van Morrison did the first time I heard him. I liked Weird Al because he was unquestionably talented, and I’m a sucker for the accordion — and for weird.
It was his polka version of Iron Butterfly’s “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” that hooked me. I convulsed with laughter and replayed it until Kay threatened to throw the tape out the window if I didn’t stop. Since then, I’ve followed Weird Al, mostly on YouTube, so seeing him live with Daisy and Lily bordered on a religious experience. The crowd was an amalgam of weirdos of every stripe, many clad in Hawaiian shirts — his signature sartorial choice. We sang, we danced, we laughed. We were happy, and we were one. Few things in life can generate all that.
Weird Al himself is as fascinating as his music. Alfred Matthew Yankovic was born in 1959, the only child of Mary Elizabeth and Nick Yankovic, and grew up in Lynwood, California. He is of Slovene and Croatian descent. He began accordion lessons the day before his seventh birthday after a door-to-door salesman offered lessons on accordion or guitar. His parents chose the accordion because, according to Weird Al, “they were convinced it would revolutionize rock.”
He is extremely intelligent, starting kindergarten a year early and skipping second grade before graduating high school at 16 as valedictorian. He earned an architecture degree in 1980 from California Polytechnic State University, where dormmates first dubbed him “Weird Al”— a nickname he turned into a professional persona. Though trained as an architect, he never practiced. By 1987, his band was touring as the opening act for the re-formed Monkees.
Weird Al’s first hit was “My Bologna” in 1979, a parody of The Knack’s “My Sharona.”
His first television appearance came in 1981 on Tom Snyder’s “The Tomorrow Show,” where he performed “Another One Rides the Bus,” his take on Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” On YouTube, you can watch percussionist Jon “Bermuda” Schwartz bang on Weird Al’s accordion case to keep the beat, adding sound effects like horns and whistles.
Though he plays several instruments, his signature remains the accordion. His videos are equally unforgettable. I’ve never disliked one, but my favorite is “Tacky,” his send-up of Pharrell’s “Happy.” It features several familiar faces, none more wondrously tacky than Jack Black, who, as one commenter put it, “was born to be in this video.” “Tacky” always makes me “Happy.” Weird Al on YouTube remains a source of continuous delight.
So, adult children of parents, this holiday season, think about giving Mom or Dad the gift of fun. And make sure to include yourselves.
— Dorothy
