Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [102]
When I was done making up with her, Grace stared at me intently like she’d just noticed how different I was too. Maybe it was the pink hair, but as I held her close and we twirled in time with the thump thump thump of Ed’s muffled drumbeats next door, I chose to believe that she was loving our shared gift of madness and movement.
I closed my eyes and felt time stand still, locked in the dizzying perfection of the moment.
Author’s note
If you retrace Piper’s steps across Seattle, you’ll discover that one of the landmarks she visits is missing. In the months between the completion of this book and its publication, Jimi Hendrix’s boyhood home was demolished. The house was, admittedly, in very bad shape when I visited—a far cry from his gaudy monument in the memorial park across the street—but it was a poignant reminder that the world’s greatest rock guitarist grew up in extreme poverty. For Tash the house was “a holy relic.” Thankfully, nothing can destroy Hendrix’s music.
Acknowledgments
In roughly chronological order, I’d like to thank:
Stephen Carleston—my high school music teacher—for introducing me to Jimi Hendrix; and Nick Green—best man—for unleashing Kurt Cobain on me. You both have a lot to answer for. As does my brother, Mark John, who continues to view my rock music education as a personal crusade.
Gavin and Tamsin, who visited every Hendrix and Cobain site in Seattle without a word of complaint. And sometimes posed for pictures.
Before I started writing, I read the excellent biographies of Hendrix and Cobain written by Seattle native Charles R. Cross: Heavier Than Heaven: A Biography of Kurt Cobain and Room Full of Mirrors: A Biography of Jimi Hendrix. These books shaped Five Flavors of Dumb in countless ways. I highly recommend them.
The librarians at the St. Louis Public Library (especially the Schlafly Branch) for getting me everything I need, and for supporting YA in the best way; Louise Thommen, and the entire cast of the Coffee Crew, for allowing me to feature them in a cameo role; and the folks at Kayak’s (especially Robin), for giving me a place to write.
The many professionals who volunteered to help out along the way (any textual inaccuracies are mine alone): Gabe Archer at Showbox at the Market (for the guided tour, and for answering numerous follow-up questions); Jacob McMurray at Experience Music Project (for info on Jimi Hendrix); Kara Simmons and Ella Eakins at Concordia Seminary (for allowing me to sit in on an ASL class); Kristina Shilts at the St. Louis Children’s Hospital Department of Audiology (for the hearing aid tutorial); Steven Malawer (for an early critique of my accounts of deafness); Stephanie Zoller, Senior Producer for KSDK-TV (for the station tour); Heather Navarro (for legal advice on rock music contracts); Ouida Wymer at Lemon Spalon (for sharing hair dye swatches); the staff at the Chess Club and Scholastic Center of Saint Louis; and the Gallaudet University Financial Aid Office.
Tadd Simmons and Valerie Bu, who not only shared their experiences of growing up deaf, but read and critiqued the manuscript as well—I’m indebted to you both; my wife, Audrey, and sister-in-law, Clare, who read early, middle, and late drafts of the book, and always had insightful comments; and everyone at Emma’s Book Club for taking me seriously when I said I wanted criticism.
The whole team at Dial Books: Kristin Smith (for the world’s best cover); Jasmin Rubero (for the exquisite interior design); Heather Alexander (for the great comments and hair advice); Regina Castillo (for the spot-on copyediting); Kathy Dawson (for those last-minute improvements); and Lauri Hornik (for welcoming me to the Dial family in the first place).
Last, but not least, the two people who made it all happen: my agent, Ted Malawer, the most down-to-earth genius I know—you are practically perfect in every way; and my editor, Liz Waniewski, for loving the book when it was just