Over the more than two years I’ve been publishing The Storm. By Norm, I have written about several firsts in my life. I’ve written about when I first learned to tie my own shoes, my first car, my first Major League Baseball game, and my first vote for President. And, I may have discussed a few other firsts that escape me at the moment.
We all have had many firsts in our lives, some important and some not, some we are more willing to share than others, and some of which will never see the light of day. With this post, I release a few sharable, minor firsts from the deep, dark closets of my mind.
First Live Music Show
For a long time, I used to say the first live music show I ever saw was Boston who were touring to promote their second album, Don’t Look Back, and the opening act was the Red Rocker, Sammy Hagar. It was a great show, as I recall. Boston was pretty big at the time. Sammy was still an opening act, but it seemed like he could be a headliner someday.
However, I had forgotten a live music show I saw as a child, way before Boston and Sammy. One year over Christmas break, my dad, my mother, my younger brother and me, took a trip to Wheeling, West Virginia to attend the Jamboree, a country music show that was broadcast live on radio station WWVA, which was a popular station for country music at the time. It was in a big theater and most people in the audience had cowbells that we all rang constantly. The headliners were Doc and Chickie Williams. a popular husband and wife country music act.
Even at that young age, I disliked that twangy, old-style hillbilly music. But I must say, seeing and hearing a live music show for the first time was quite an experience. Our family had never done anything like that before.
That childhood trip to Wheeling actually included several other firsts for me. For example, we stayed in a hotel in a big city, not some crummy motel on the outskirts of town. This hotel provided me with my first ride in an elevator, which my brother and I thought was just the coolest thing.
Also, and I may be wrong about this, but when we went out to supper before the show, I think it was the first time I had ever been in a sit-down type restaurant with waitresses and a menu you held in your hand. There were so many choices, it seemed almost overwhelming. I recall settling on a big bowl of beef stew.
Before the waitress and the menu and the food, though, I remember that as we were seated at our table, I noticed an empty table next to us that had several dollars on it, and I thought “Oh boy, finders keepers!”, and made a grab for the money. But my dad hollered at me and said to keep my hands to myself. I did not know the money was left there purposely for the waitress. We never had to tip at the Twin Kiss or Dairy Isle.
Yes, the trip to Wheeling was a pretty big deal for our family, and it was full of firsts for me. It did not encourage me to convert to country music, though. I still hate it.
First NBA Game
One cold December day, I went up to Cleveland with several friends to see our first NBA game in person. It was a clash between the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Buffalo Braves. This game between two mediocre teams was not our first choice. Cleveland was the nearest NBA city, so the Cavaliers were always going to be one of the teams. We wanted to see them play Dr J - Julius Erving, and the Philadelphia 76ers but when the tickets went on sale a few months before, the game was sold out by the time we got to the head of the line.
We chose the Buffalo Braves as a Plan B because they had scoring champion and MVP, Bob McAdoo. He was no Dr J, but at the time, Bob McAdoo was one of the top players in the league. Unfortunately, a few weeks before the game, the Braves traded Bob McAdoo to the Knicks for John Gianelli. What a bummer. John Gianelli?? There was no Plan C, as we had already bought the tickets, and of course, there was no internet resale market at the time.
So we unenthusiastically trudged on up to snow-covered Cleveland to watch a game none of us really cared that much about. But, it was the first NBA game for all of us, so once we got to the arena, which was in the middle of nowhere in a rural area south of the city, we had a good time. How could we not? We were four young men with a cooler of beer, traveling a hundred miles in the dead of winter, to see other wealthier and bigger young men throw a big, bouncy ball through an iron hoop. It could only have been better if we had found four like-minded young women to hang with us.
But, we didn’t.
Postscript: The Buffalo Braves defeated the Cavaliers 103-96. John Gianelli had 6 points for the Braves.

First Hospital Stay
The first (and only) time I had to stay overnight in a hospital was when I was twelve. I broke my collarbone playing football in the backyard with the kids down the road. The only equipment we had was a football. We had no pads or helmets but we country boys played tackle football anyway. Touch football was for sissies.
I recall receiving a kickoff and I had one kid to beat to get a touchdown. I tried to stiff-arm him and instead of cooperating with my plan to score, he grabbed my arm and, in kind of a judo move, he flipped me forward in a somersault and I landed on my upper back. (I did hold on to the ball, I was not a fumbler.) I didn’t feel any pain, but I got the wind knocked out of me, so I laid on the ground for a few moments. However, when I tried to get up, I felt the pain in my shoulder. Which was understandable because I had snapped my collarbone in half. I could feel the pieces of bone rubbing together.
The neighbor kids’ father took me home, and then my pops took me to the hospital. It was only about 10 miles away, so it didn’t take long. The doctor on duty decided it would be best if I spent the night. They put some kind of brace thing on me and put a 5 lb sand bag on my shoulder and told me not to take it off for any reason. The next morning, they took me to another room and put a cast on me that looped under each arm and across my back. I had to wear that stupid cast for 8 long weeks.
And soon after, we were playing tackle football in the yard again.
Got to get back up on the horse, you know.
First Pair of Glasses
I didn’t know I needed glasses until I was seventeen. That summer I was working the evening shift at my uncle's gas station. It was a quiet night and we were sitting out in front of the building, “shootin’ the shit” as we used to say. The rambling discussion turned to the hot weather, so we looked to the flashing time and temperature sign at the bank down the street. My uncle could read it, but I could not. That’s when it dawned on me that perhaps I should have my vision tested. So, a week or two later I went to the eye doctor and I did indeed need glasses.
The difference provided by my first pair of glasses was amazing. The world was not all blurry anymore. I wish I had thought to have my eyes checked before our recently completed baseball season. I was the starting left fielder on the baseball team in high school, and in all honesty, I did not have a very good season. I believed I was better than the results I was producing, but I couldn’t figure out why I was not playing well. And, the coach was no help, I’m sure he thought I just sucked and was a waste of his time. It kind of got to the point where I felt that way about myself, too. Maybe I was the starter only because there wasn’t anyone else to put in the lineup.
I like to think that if I had been wearing corrective lenses that season, I would been a better player. And, I also like to think that at the end of the season, I would have told that coach to go screw himself.

One More First
I will finish this post with a very important first for me. On January 22, 2023, I posted my first essay on Substack, titled, appropriately enough, The Storm. By Norm. Here’s the link:
https://thestormbynorm.substack.com/p/the-storm-by-norm
Sometimes I think this is the only way I can communicate with the outside world. Thanks to you all for reading this, uh, whatever it is.
To my first-rate subscribers, thank you for your support.
And, don’t be afraid to scroll to the bottom and hit that Like button! (But, only if you really mean it.)
Do you have something to say about There’s a First Time for Everything? Well, then . . .
Most of my firsts are things I would rather forget, so I'd rather not bring them up, even in my mind. One of my very early favorites, though, was when I learned how to swim. My mother and brother and I went down to the beach at St. Andrews Bay outside of Lynn Haven Florida. The water there passed under Bailey Bridge. It was calm, warm, shallow and flowed gently under the bridge. Mom showed me how to learn to let the salt water buoy my body while I was on my back. Then she had me turn over and let it buoy me underneath my stomach. It was very shallow and I could walk with my hands on the bottom in the sand with my arms below me. while I kicked with my legs and feet to propel me forward. She had me 'swim' with my arms and hands supporting me back and forth several times and then told me to "swim". "Hold your fingers close together, cup your hands, reach out one arm at a time and pull your body forward in the water. It worked. I was swimming! I just kept at it and improved each and every time. My mom was so proud of me and, of course, that gave me confidence. My brother, who was four years older than I, decided I had received enough attention from my mom, so he told me to follow him along the shoreline while he swam ahead. There's something I want to show you," he said. "It's so cool!"
He never shared anything exciting with him, but I fell for it anyway. I followed him and then he stood up and said "you go ahead and you will see what I found." I did, by myself, and soon was face to face with a Horseshoe Crab with several more following behind it like soldiers. They came right toward me thru the shallows, migrating. They scared the heck out of me as I had never seen nor heard of one before. They are an ancient Olde spices of crab that still exist today. And they are ugly! Look one up and you can see why I was terrified. They don't attack you or anything, but I do remember me making a bee-line onto the shore as my brother was laughing at me. He always won when it came to "You've gotten see what I just saw." I finally gave up falling for this line. Especially when I got stung by a Jelly fish he told me to go look at. I learned most of my lessons as an innocent young girl, thanks to my brother.