Rock and Roll Heaven
A long time ago, I used to visit a place in San Antonio called Taco Land once or twice a week to enjoy live punk and rock music and get drunk. Good times.
Taco Land was owned by a man we all called “Ram.” He was a character, always wearing his sunglasses, continually blitzed, and invariably a lot of fun. Sometimes he’d come through the place with a bottle of some horrifying alcoholic concoction and offer it to patrons, saying, “Kiss the baby!”
I have kissed the baby.
As the years passed, I couldn’t go to Taco Land anymore. First, because my girlfriend of the time hated the place, and second, because I moved 1,400 miles away to live elsewhere. I missed it, though, and I still miss it.
Sadly, Taco Land does not exist in its previous form because one night in 2005, Ram was murdered by an armed robber. I was (and am) devastated by Ram’s loss. Not only because this fun-loving guy died by violence, but also because he gave me so many good memories.
Today is the twentieth anniversary of his death, and I’m feeling choked up writing this.
If you believe in forever
Then life is just a one-night stand
If there's a rock n' roll heaven
Well, you know they've got a hell of a band