story

10/16/17

My name is Deeter and this is my story.  Actually my name is Dieter George Keller, but people often confuse me with someone losing weight or just simply see my name and call me Mr. Keller.   Deeter with three “E”s is proving to be easier so I’m sticking to it.

I don’t know why my parents named me Dieter, I only have traces of German blood in me.  My nationality and ethnicity is purely American, I had ancestors come here on the mayflower.   Why should I be anything but American?

The only ethnic group I identify with are the Latinos; I speak fluent Spanish, have spent time in Latin America, and had a Colombian wife.   But I’m not Hispanic, I was almost 30 when I became immersed in the Latin lifestyle.  But Latin Americans are Americans too.

We should invent a word like they have in Spanish; we could call it Unitedstatesion.

That way when people ask us what nationality we are we could answer “Unitedstatesion”.

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My timing was terrible even from birth.  I was born February 8, 1964.  That day is significant because nothing happened.  Both the day before and the day after are historically noteworthy days.  But, as usual, I missed out on the big stuff and came into being during the cultural void on the day between; just missing the life altering socially revolutionary events.

The Beatles landed in New York on February 7, then they played Ed Sullivan on February 9.  I was born the day between.  I call it the day of hype… or “Deeter Day.”

It kind of symbolizes my generation… almost there and a part of it, but not really (I consider my generation anyone born in the sixties and nothing else).

 

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As a small child I lived two houses down and across the street from Bob Seger.  It was the late sixties into the early seventies.  It was wild.

God only knows how much those days influenced me; the long hair, cloud of marijuana smoke, the constant flow of Harley Davidsons, and the loud rock and roll music definitely left an impression.

Mostly the music.

I think my dad called the police on the Silver Bullet band for rehearsing too loud.

I remember he threw a shovel at a guy on a Harley for driving too fast down the street.

Bob Seger is a wonderful person.  I got a chance to meet him about a year ago.

I work in the highly rewarding field of Landscape and lawn maintenance and Bob Seger is one of our customers.  One day a grass cutting foreman didn’t show up for work.  I took his crew to cut Bob Seger’s lawn.  Bob came out walking an adorable little dog.  I pulled my 62” ZTR lawn mower up next to him and shut it off.

I said, “You know we used to be neighbors.”

He looked at me skeptically and asked, “where did you live?”

I confidently belted out, “Pinecrest Drive.”

A big smile crossed his face and he stuck his hand out.  “What’s your name?” he asked.

I said “Deeter,” and shook his hand.

He told me he bought that house in 1968, I didn’t ask him when he moved out.  He continued to walk his dog and I continued to cut the grass.

When he came back I was on the other side of the property and I saw him looking at me like he might want to talk to me, but I really had no reason to go back to that side of the property.  I should have figured all old hippies love to talk about 1968 and got him going on the subject, maybe he’d have listened to my music.  But I didn’t go back towards him.

The normal foreman said that Bob came outside the next week like he was looking for me.  I haven’t been back to his house since.

I was impressed by Bob Seger not many guys with so much going on would take the time to be friendly to the guy cutting his grass.

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