Alice

When I was a little boy, I remember going through my Dad’s CD collection and finding one album that intrigued me. The Last Temptation, by Alice Cooper, was nestled between his collection of artists like DC Talk, Newsboys and Rich Mullins. It was a striking contrast to the otherwise clean-looking spreads of album artwork.

I grew up hearing that album, which my Dad would frequently play at full blast on his home stereo system – usually to show off the bass while playing Nothing’s Free. He’d give a big grin while cranking the volume, and I’d feel the beat pounding in my chest as the drummer beat the toms to give the iconic opening as the electric guitars roared to life.

*Pauses to crank Nothing’s Free*

Much better.

As I got older, I eventually discovered the graphic novel that accompanied the album. Filled with nightmarish gouls and a dark-clad Alice Cooper known as the ‘Showman’ as he entices the young character to spend the rest of eternity in the ‘Theater of the Real’, it was an epic story about the battle between good and evil, redemption and grace. A copy of it now sits on my shelf, and it’s one of the things I enjoy reading most when I have a quiet evening to myself.

To me, Alice Cooper is more than a rockstar; he’s one of the last bastions of talent in the world of Rock N’ Roll to not sell their souls out to Hollywood, drugs and scandelous living. He’s an example in a world of rebel losers that quickly pass once their 15 minutes of fame are over.

In 1987, Alice Cooper went sober. Up until that point, he fought a losing battle with drugs and alcohol. Following an ultimatum from his wife, Sheryl, Alice went into treatment and never touched alcohol again.

As I write this, I’m on my 188th day of sobriety, after a decade-long battle with getting high on a daily/hourly basis.

In the years that followed the death of our Dad, Alice Cooper was a bonding experience for me and my younger brother, Mark. Every week, we’d drive down country roads in Ashville, OH, while listening to Bad Place Alone at full blast in my Volvo – with a stereo system worth far more than the car.

With the windows down, we’d belt out the words at the top of our lungs.

Hey blood brother, you’re one of our own
You’re as sharp as a razor
And as hard as a stone
Hey blood brother, you’re bad to the bone
You’re a natural killer
In a bad place alone

That song became our own tribute to where we were both at in life; alone and without the one man we loved and needed most; our Dad. We were now alone…together.

Years later, I took my ‘little’ brother, Josh, out for his own coming-of-age ride with the windows down and Bad Place Alone playing at full blast. Josh knew this experience was his own rite of passage to have with me, just as Mark did many times.

A few years ago, I introduced Atlas to Alice Cooper’s music. He was absolutely hooked. Every time we drive in the car, he asks to listen to Alice Cooper – and still does.

One day, I asked Atlas if he would ever want to meet Alice. He was extremely excited and began asking me every week “Dad, when is Alice Cooper coming to our house?”.

At one point, I told Atlas that someday he’d meet Alice Cooper, and I was determined to make that meeting happen…somehow.

There are a lot of wounds left by Dads. Some Dads hit their kids. Other Dads fail to keep their word. I’m not sure which hurts more to the child when they look back and think about their Dad. With this in mind, I decided it was time to make a meeting with Alice Cooper and Atlas a reality.

So, I started writing him. Then I started writing members of his band, and even his daughter, using whatever email address I could find on the internet.

Months went by without a response. Then, one day I received a message from Ryan Roxie; one of the guitarists for Alice Cooper, who has been playing with him since 1991 (35 years). He let me know that he couldn’t guarantee a meeting with Alice, but he’d be happy to meet with Atlas and I before/after a show.

Frequently, I checked to see when/if Alice was coming to Dallas – and the day finally came. He’ll be here on April 15th and I asked Atlas if he wanted to go – and meet Alice Cooper. Excitedly, he said yes.

That’s when I had a tough decision to make…whether or not to buy the tickets that included the “Meet and Greet” with Alice after the show, which came at a very hefty price…

What kind of a price can you put on keeping your word? That’s a great question.

Last night, I decided to ‘stress test’ Atlas for a full Alice Cooper show; seeing if he was willing to watch an entire show. From beginning-to-end, he was hooked – and didn’t get scared in the least bit.

With that in mind, I decided to pull the trigger on ordering our tickets to the show. With only 6 ‘meet and greet’ tickets remaining, I didn’t want the opportunity to pass me by.

I chatted with Mark before buying the tickets and shared with him that I was considering it. He said one thing that stuck out to me:

“Memories matter.”

Five minutes later, I had a receipt in my inbox.

As I write this, I feel a wave of emotion overcoming me. It matters a lot to me that I’m able to keep my word to Atlas, meet a legend, and have (nearly) front-row tickets to one of the last great rock n’ roll shows to hit the stage.

Beyond all of it, I’m thankful. I’m thankful that I’ll never have to wonder “what if” or worse – “I should have…” At 78 years-old, I can’t imagine that Alice Will be rocking stages for much longer, and I would have a very difficult time living with myself if I had passed this opportunity by.

In less than a month, Atlas and I will join the ranks of people who have met Alice Cooper…and I couldn’t be more excited.