Jamesage Odyssey, Prelude

Today we bid "see ya later" to one of the biggest, best, and brightest Wilmington has to offer. My man James Yetter aka Jamesage aka Saint James is in the medical profession, a RN to be exact, and a travelling nurse to be exacter. Originally slated to heal folks out in sunny San Diego, James is going where he is needed and on his way down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

I first met James at the punk shows prevalent in Wilmington in the 1990's. He was friends with Billy Fetters, Frank Pater and Zogby, collectively known as the Corporate Music Bastards. CMB did one legendary seven inch entitled "We Just Do It For the Money" that they released themselves and the Huffer and I were lucky enough to sing back-up on, along with James. We started chillin' at the Ranch House on Concord Pike, as was fashionable at the time, as well as the tracks behind St. Edmond's, and soon became fast friends.

It really blossomed when James lived in the neighboring dorm to me and Huffer in 1999. James' room at the Christiana Towers saw some of the grandest debauchery in University of Delaware history, including the frequently nude "Main Man" Timmy Toner (photo omitted) and a couch that tried to eat me one night. In this room I learned the subtleties of Tekken 3, like how you can beat Zack one time, but one time only, and the infinite wonders of Chex Mix.

A couple years later I decided that I wasn't gonna drink alcohol no mo, and in one of the coolest, solidest, most dudely actions one has ever taken on my behalf, Jamesage abstained in sympathy with me for a whole year, and manned the wheel when my car was wrecked, leading to some of the best good, clean fun I've ever had. For instance, last night we hit up Wilmington's Polish festival on the Riverfront with Murph, who is half Polish at 40%, and enjoyed mad of groove-tones from the Philly Horn Band and delicious placki (potato pancakes, add sour cream), paczki (donuts! - apricot filled), and golobki (stuffed cabbage). We was too full to ride the open-air gravitron.

James is really a generous friend who has a better time when you're having a good time, and never balked to spot me on beer or brisket. Whether I'm basking in the glow of the BBQ or an Eagles win, or the rare Smoking Popes number, I'll be thinking about ya, James. May the bayou enrich you as much as you will it. -Dan