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1DACCENTTEXARKANA GAZETTE ★ SUNDAY, JANUARY 14, 2007

REMOTE POSSIBILITIES

Zarf. Zoe. Zarf. Zoe. Zarf. Zoe. Yes, I like the name Zoe better. Much bet-

ter. And while I do not love the name Zarf,

I have to yell from the rooftops, that I do love the character Zarf. And Zoe, his female being.

Zarf, if you can’t remem-ber one of my previous columns, is a character on “All My Children.”

A transgender character. The first major transgen-der in daytime. With a major story.

Zarf was first intro-duced to AMC watchers last year as a rocker lend-ing a song to the fictional company Fusion.

Well, he blew into PIne Valley recently, taking advantage of a clause giving him quite a bit of artistic control.

Immediately, he fell for Bianca, the show’s lesbian character, and finally figured out why.

He’s really Zoe. The story that AMC has weaved with the

telling of Zoe’s tale has been wonderful. Amazing. And it surprises me.

I had no idea Zarf or Zoe would com-mand this much presence and story.

The scenes where Zoe made her first appearance on Bianca’s doorstep and the subsequent reveal to a stunned Bianca were outstanding scenes. Better than I thought AMC could ever pull off.

I’ve read message boards and listened to fans tell of how they could feel the emo-tions and were captivated by Zoe’s words.

Count me in as captivated. But Bianca doesn’t understand. And Zoe

was left heartbroken and humiliated. And now, Zarf has re-emerged with the inten-tion to leave Pine Valley.

However, and here’s a spoiler, so stop reading if you don’t want to know: Zarf is going to become a prime suspect in the show’s Satin Slayer killings.

The residents of Pine Valley should be prepared to be knocked off their feet next week as Zarf is set to explain his story to those who suspect him of murder.

I’m positive that I wouldn’t love the char-acters Zarf and Zoe this much if it weren’t for the talents of actor Jeffrey Carlson.

He is stunning in his delivery and a true gem that AMC was lucky to find.

Shortly after my initial column on this subject ran, I received several e-mails from transgenders—all of them looking forward to their story finally being told.

One, Marti Abernathey, who has a blog, is holding her judgment, but thinks the storyline was “sheer genius” on the part of AMC.

“I think it could be a great thing to edu-cate people to our plight,” said Marti. “One thing that has been impressed upon me is how much misinformation/misunderstand-ing there is about the lives of transgender folk.”

Another transgender believes telling this story could benefit the community as a whole.

Leigh Smythe, another transgender, fears there may be a little sensationalism about the life of transgenders, but is still hopeful.

“ I hope they have a whole episode about Zarf getting kicked out of a ladies rest room!!! And some of the other bigotry that we commonly face,” said Leigh.

Leigh summed it up nicely in an e-mail:“The most wonderful result that could

happen is to get the public incensed at the discrimination that happens. But, it would not be good if it’s framed in such a way that the populace agrees with the people who look down upon us, the police that arrest us, or the thugs that beat us, or the killers that murder us, just for being who we are. There are so many kind, gentle, deserving (transgenders) that don’t deserve that kind of treatment in any media.”

So, kudos so far, AMC. Keep the good work going.

And if you’ve formed opinions so far, I’d love to hear them! E-mail me at jsheridan@texarkanagazette.com.

AMC’s Zarf/Zoe storyline surprises

Jodi SheridanColumnist

SHNSJeffrey Carlson portrays Zarf on “All My Children.”

“Rock is so much fun. That’s what it’s all about—filling up the chest cavity and empty kneecaps and elbows.”—Jimi Hendrix

By Anthony DavisTexarkana Gazette

When Mike Hubrel, Texarkana, Ark., song-writer/guitarist, picks up his flat-top Martin guitar and begins to play, Hendrix’s words become more easily understood.

Hubrel’s entire presence and sense of being seems to inflate as his fingers find notes and chords easily and efficiently, animating his movements and demeanor.

It is evident Hubrel maintains a lifelong love affair with his guitar and his music.

But, like many young guitarists in the early 1960s, heeding the siren call of the muses meant being in the right place at the right time.

At age 12, Hubrel found himself stand-ing on the stage of the famed San Francisco Cow Palace as a winner of a South City (San Francisco) battle of the bands contest. His instrument was tuned and handed to him by union stagehands and to his back was a moun-tain of amplifiers.

But it was short-lived attention for the young musician.

Just when this teen gunslinger with a head full of lyrics and a blossoming set of skills was contemplating ways to make his mark on the San Francisco, Calif., music scene, his family moved “lock, stock and barrel” to Ashdown, Ark.

“I literally broke down and cried,” Hubrel is heard saying in a video interview conducted recently by Harold Ott, founder of “Psych of the South,” a rather new Website focusing on psychedelic, rock and garage bands of the early 1960s.

“I left all the glamour and the glitter and so many more opportunities to play. When we moved to Ashdown, I didn’t know anyone into rock music. But we recorded the song “Run, Hide, Getaway” shortly after that.”

“We” in this case meaning bandmates for a time—Hubrel, Paco Ritter, Roger Snead and Steve “Wildman” Adams performing under the name Dead On Arrival.

That particular song was literally “dug up” by Ott and his partners, sister Rachel and music obsessed friend Cliff Farmer, while searching for material for psychofthesouth.com.

This trio of rock hounds and treasure-seek-ers developed the Internet site in 2006, “when a few kids from Arkansas decided to research psychedelic rock bands in the South. From these reports, the crew tracked down band members of Arkansas bands, hanging out, reminiscing and fact finding.”

The Otts and Farmer are now making these recordings, interviews and related trivia and memorabilia available to the public at www.psychofthesouth.com.

“A lot of these bands may not have even

been popular locally, as many were just high school friends with bands or garage bands like DOA. It was ‘the’ band from Ashdown,” Ott said in a telephone interview.

“Most of the music we focus on is prior to the British Invasion in about 1963-64. There were a lot of frat bands, surf bands, garage and psychedelic bands up until about 1971. We even researched newspapers and found the amount of coverage of local music declined after the mid-’60s.”

Ott and company maintain an “Open Call” to musicians who were members of bands in that era and encourage them to make themselves known as part of their labor of love.

For Hubrel, being “discovered” again unlocked a vault of memories of his own musi-cal path from San Francisco to Ashdown, from Ashdown back to San Francisco for a time and finally back to his “home” in Texarkana.

Along the way Hubrel has jammed, prac-ticed, performed and generally hung around with some of Texarkana’s old-school rock ’n’ roll heads and country crooners. As a member of The Pines house band he backed up major country music performers and shared the stage with an array of Texarkana and area musicians.

But long before Hubrel found his way to local performance venues, he continued to live and breathe playing guitar and toying with song ideas.

Hubrel was bitten by the guitar bug at about age 6. His uncle presented him with an F-hole Harmony guitar he accommodated by laying the instrument flat on a bed and strumming it.

Hubrel had his first guitar lessons in an

area of San Francisco called “South City.” (as in “South City Midnight Lady” by the Doobies).

After a few lessons, the music store owner, Mr. Bronstein, had Hubrel sit in the showroom window and play his guitar. No reason was given, but being an apt pupil, he was not about to object.

“I suppose I got my first love of music from the radio,” Hubrel mused. “It’s been my whole life since I was 7. My guitar and my music are extensions of me, whether playing quietly to myself or performing.

“I regard music as a common language I have been blessed to learn. Anytime something bothered me I went to my room and picked up the guitar. It was my sanctuary. Music is a growing process. The music takes me in many different directions, I don’t necessarily set the direction.”

The sense of culture shock at his arrival in Southwest Arkansas initially dampened Hubrel’s enthusiasm.

“There were still outhouses in Ashdown,” Hubrel said with a shudder of reminiscence.

He couldn’t find many kids his age and into music who were aware of West Coast groups such as Moby Grape, The Seeds, Frank Zappa, Grateful Dead or Buffalo Springfield.

But he could turn them on to some new stuff. And some were eager to learn.

“Not many people were doing Hendrix. It was mostly country western around here. But I had a Fender guitar, a Fender amp and a distor-tion booster, so I could do it,” said Hubrel.

With the opportunities for playing the music he craved to perform still relatively few and far between in Texarkana, Hubrel elected to

“I regard music as a commonlanguage I have been blessed to learn. Anytime something bothered me I went to my room and picked up the guitar. It was my sanctuary. Music is a growing process. The music takes me in many different directions, I don’t necessarily set the direction.”—Mike Hubrel

Staff photo by Aaron StreetMike Hubrel

Ten-year-old Mike Hubrel already had dreams of guitar stardom as evidenced by his sharp look and eager smile.

Scott Morton points out drummer Wade Fowler as Jaxx member Chris LeGrand and Mike Hubrel face

the camera—note the distinguished 80s hairstyles.

Texarkana band Loose Change—featuring the keyboard and vocals of Tommy Ables (far right) and the harmonies of Tracy Davis. Hubrel (far left) laid down the lead guitar for the band.

See HUBREL on Page 3D

Local musician’s song preserved for posterity on Website archive A lifetime spent in love with music

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TEXARKANA GAZETTE ✯ SUNDAY, JANUARY 14, 2007 FEATURES 3D

Deidra Deanne Hall and David Stephen Parish were united in marriage November 11, 2006 at First United Methodist Church in Texarkana, AR. Hal Habecker, a close family friend, officiated. A reception was held following the ceremony at Texarkana Country Club.

The bride is the daughter of Bradley and Darlene Hall, and the groom is the son of Stephen and Jyme Parish, all from Texarkana, TX.

Matrons of honor were Dosha Anderson and Dereca Gist, sisters of the bride; Maid of Honor was Ashley Eoff; bridesmaids were Elisabeth Parish, sister of the groom, Angela So, Gwin Huey, Jamie Reed, and Mary Escamillla. Flower girl was Britton Anderson, niece of bride. Bestman was James Parish, brother of the groom; groomsmen were Gregg Anderson and Mike Gist, brothers-in-law of the bride, Chris Clark, Nick Harrel, Jess Daniel, Patrick Cowan and Ross Brown.

The bride received her Bachelor of Science at Abilene Christian University, and she earned her Juris Doctor at Baylor University School of Law. She works at the law firm of Hope, Fuqua & Campbell,P.A. in Little Rock, AR. The groom graduated from Baylor University where he received his Bachelors of Arts, and he will graduate from the University of Arkansas Medical School in May 2007.

The couple honeymooned in Maui, Hawaii and resides in Little Rock, AR.

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move back to the culture and music styles he had grown up revering. He returned to San Francisco looking to hook up with musicians of a similar bent.

Ther he fell in with a group of musicians whose sound was a lighter, acoustic/electric mix, a style Hubrel was already developing in his original music. The group, August Wolf, released one album before drifting apart.

“I met some friends out there who were jamming on original material. I had a day job in San Francisco. I’ll never forget practicing in this fifth-floor flat overlooking the city,” said Hubrel. “I played in a lot of cover bands in Northern California. I finally stepped up and sang ‘Danny’s Boy’ by Loggins and Messina in a club in Danville, Calif.”

Whether on the Left Coast or in Arkansas fly-over coun-try, Hubrel absorbed music from a number of influences.

“Maybe that’s the down side of loving all kinds of music. It becomes hard to separate it from yourself and your own style,” he said.

But the Reagan years brought gas lines and a general socio-political “mess.” Hubrel’s fond-est recollection of his return to California is having been able to spend time with his dad before his death.

The return to Texarkana brought a new relationship with local musicians. Hubrel met Tracy Davis, a highly accomplished vocalist and guitarist, and the two began doing a few gigs together. Still, Hubrel was itching for some-thing more when a call came from Wyoming.

Scott Morton of Texarkana’s ’80s power rock band Jaxx called Hubrel to seek his help. Scott Stuart, guitarist, had become ill and was return-ing home, and Jaxx needed a replacement pronto. With barely more than a passing knowledge of who these guys were, Hubrel responded to the call by loading up for a 28-hour bus ride to Wyoming.

“I stepped off the bus at a place where the paved road ended and the bus turned around,” Hubrel recalled. “Finally, I saw a figure walking toward me in the dust, and it was Scott and the guys.”

Hubrel then proceeded to learn more than 40 songs’ guitar leads in a matter of 24 hours. Hubrel crammed like no test he’d ever taken before, and the tour went smoothly

from there.Upon his return to T-Town,

Hubrel became a member of The Pines house band, where he and other musicians of note in Texarkana played behind everyone from The Hag to Hank Williams Jr.

“We played a lot of Urban Cowboy music during that time,” Hubrel said. “We also played for a lot of big names.”

It was also in the ’80s when Hubrel joined the band Loose Change with fellow local musi-cians Davis, Randy Lee, Perry Steitler and Tommy Ables. Hubrel’s versatility on guitar combined wonderfully with Able’s keyboard work and vocal stylings and Davis’ vocal and instrumental support.

Hubrel came into the ’90s with a wide range of local musician friends and potential “play-mates,” but he became more comfortable with origi-nal folk-rock and covering songs by great songwriters. Wade Fowler, a longtime friend and fellow band mem-ber, sought out Hubrel for an acoustic-centered band. Chasing Rita was formed.

That’s a lot of music for one musician with a wife and kids. It’s a lot of music for almost anyone, for that matter. But for Hubrel, it’s a reservoir of moods, feelings, thoughts, philosophies and ideas that is called upon frequently for cre-ating new sounds of his own.

“We played with a lot of the big names, only we didn’t have the hassles of management and venue worries. When I think about it, we’ve had just as much fun as the big boys,” Hubrel said.

The 12 y-ear-old singing of a desire to just “Run, Hide, Getaway” still rambles around in Hubrel’s psyche. We all have a bit of kid in us, after all. But this songwriter has also found the solace and peace of becoming one with a song, something very few people can achieve.

And Hubrel respects that gift.

HubrelContinued from Page 1D “We played with a lot

of the big names, only we didn’t have the has-sles of management and

venue worries. When I think about it, we’ve

had just as much fun as the big boys.”—Mike Hubrel

Recently, a reader named Jim Cornell sent me a postcard with a picture of insects on it, posing an interesting question.

(No, the insects were not posing a question. As far as I know.) Jim stated that he, like every other American above the age of 4, is on a low-fat diet, and he noted that we have become basi-cally a non-fat nation. This

is true; virtually all edible sub-stances, and many automotive products, are now marketed as being “low-fat” or “fat-free.” Americans are obsessed with fat content.

DOCTOR: Mrs. Stoatbonker, you will die within hours unless you take this antibiotic.

PATIENT: Is it fat-free?DOCTOR: I don’t know.PATIENT: I’ll just have a Diet

Pepsi.So anyway, Jim, after noting

that “millions of pounds of formerly fat-rich food is now de-fatted,” asks: “What are they doing with all that fat?”

Jim, that is an excellent ques-tion, and I intend to answer it just as soon as I have written enough words to make a col-umn. (Don’t you wish you had a job like mine? All you have to do is think up a certain number of words! Plus, you can repeat words! And they don’t even have to be true!)

First, however, we need to consider exactly what “fat” is. Just off the top of my head, without glancing at a diction-ary, I would define fat as “any of various mixtures of solid or semisolid triglycerides found in adipose animal tissue or in the seeds of plants.” A “triglyc-eride,” as I vaguely recall from

my high-school years, is “any of a group of esters, CH2(OOCR1)CH(OOCR2)CH2(OOCR3), derived from glycerol and three fatty acid radicals.”

But what does this mean? One thing it means, of course, is that “Three Fatty Acid Radicals” would be an excel-lent name for a rock band. But it also means that fat is some kind of chemical item that nature puts inside certain plants and animals to make them taste better. A good rule of thumb is: The more fat something contains, the better it tastes. This is why we eat hamburgers, but we do not eat ants. Ants have a very low fat content, so nobody eats them except unfortunate animals such as birds, who, because of a design flaw, cannot use drive-thru windows. Human beings, on the other hand, enjoy ham-burgers, because they (the hamburgers) come from cows, which are notoriously fat. You will never see a cow volun-tarily going anywhere near an Abdominizer.

Of course, there have been efforts to make low-fat “ham-burgers.” In researching this column, I purchased a prod-uct called “Harvest Burgers,” which are “All Vegetable Protein Patties” manufactured by the Green Giant Corp. Upon examining the package, the first thing I noticed was that the Jolly Green Giant has apparently had plastic surgery. He no longer looks like the “Ho! Ho! Ho!” guy; he now looks like Paul McCartney on steroids. Check it out.

The second thing I noticed is that the key ingredient in Harvest Burgers is “soy.” This ingredient is found in many low-fat foods, and I think it’s time that the Food and Drug Administration told us just what the hell it is. A plant? A mineral? An animal? Are there enormous soy ranches in Nebraska, with vast herds

of soys bleating and suckling their young? As a consumer, I’d like some answers. I don’t want to discover years from now that “soy” is an oriental word meaning “compressed ant parts.” This is not intended as a criticism of the “Harvest Burger,” which is a well-con-structed, extremely cylindrical frozen unit of brown foodlike substance. The package states that it contains “83 percent less fat than ground beef"; I believe this, because it also tastes exactly 83 percent less good than ground beef. Nevertheless I highly recommend it for any-body who needs more “soy” or a backup hockey puck.

Oh, sure, there will be people who will claim that soy pat-ties taste “almost as good” as real hamburgers. These are the same people who have convinced themselves that rice cakes taste “almost as good” as potato chips, when in fact eat-ing rice cakes is like chewing on a foam coffee cup, only less filling. You could fill a contain-er with roofing shingles and put it in the supermarket with a sign that said “ZERO-FAT ROOFING SHINGLES,” and these people would buy it and convince themselves it tasted “almost as good” as French toast.

Yes, we have become a low-fat society, which brings us back to the question posed by Jim Cornell: What’s being done with all the fat? Jim offers this theory: “I suspect that they’re dumping it in some small town in Texas or Mexico.” No way, Jim. Our government would never allow a major fat-dump-ing facility in the same region where we’re storing the dead UFO aliens. No, the truth is that the fat is being loaded into giant tanker trucks, transported by night and pumped into: my thighs. There was no choice: Marlon Brando was already full. But I’m happy to do my part for a leaner America, so don’t bother to thank me. Are you going to finish those fries?

Postscript: After I wrote this column, my editor, Tom Shroder, sent me a note saying he thinks he read somewhere that ants do contain fat. I think he’s wrong, but since we’re both professional journalists, neither of us will look it up. I will say this: If ants do contain fat, it’s only a matter of time before somebody comes out with low-fat ants.

This classic Dave Barry col-umn was originally published Nov. 3, 1996.

Tribune Media Services

Where’s all that excess fat going?

DaveBarryColumnist

Now here’s an arts question that’s been buggin’ me for some time: Can ballerinas dunk a bas-ketball?

They sure can jump, and they got those long gangly arms. Many ballets would be greatly improved by a couple of big ol’ windmill dunks. Think about it: “Slam Lake.”

If you’re a ballerina who can dunk, call me and we’ll get a movie of you dunking (tutu points!). We’ll put it on Charlotte.com, and you an’ me’ll be famous. I can toss the ball up before you dunk for a “ballet oop”!

I am completely serious about this: I want to be in an Internet

movie with a ballerina dunking a basketball. I do.

FACTOID OF THE WEEKA baby is born with about 300

bones. Some fuse and grow together, and a typical adult has 206 bones. So says the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

THAT BOOZY MICHELIN MANAnd now, for the first reader

question in this week’s Glad You Asked column:

Q. What is the name of the Michelin tire mascot? —John Nash, Reno, Nev.

His name is Bibendum, which means, basically, “heavy drink-

ing.”See, back in the 1890s, the

Michelin brothers (French dudes) saw a beer poster of a giant hold-ing a tankard. On it were the Latin words “Nunc est bibendum” from the poet Horace. Translation: “Now is the time for drinking.” (Once again, my cultural contri-bution to the arts section kicks some serious bootay.)

Later, the bros saw a stack of tires and one remarked to the other that if you put arms and legs on him, he’d be a man of tires. Hmmmmmm, a man of tires ...

What if, the Michelins thought, you put a tire man into that beer

poster, and he was drinking nails and glass and stuff to show how tough and unpuncturable he was?

Voila! The Michelin bros ripped off the beer poster, our tire man was dubbed Bibendum, and an advertising legend was born.

Why is Bibendum white? Because back in the day, tires were off-white, like those gloves the doctor wears. (Group shud-der.) Carbon black was later added as a preservative.

Mr. Bib, as Michelin insiders call him, is one of the oldest corporate mascots in the world.

–JEFF ELDER/MCCLATCHY NEWSPAPERS

GLAD YOU ASKED

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