It’s the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. On each solstice day, I think of my late friend Michael Homan and his band, Half Pagan.

The other day I associate with Homan is Muses Thursday; the day we used to hold a massive parade party at Adrastos World HQ. Homan always arrived early and staked out our spot on Magazine Street. It was an important role, so much so that neither Dr. A nor I had the heart to continue the party after Homan’s passing. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Back to Half Pagan. In addition to Homan, it was made up of some of my favorite people: Editor B DBA Bart Everson, Mike Hogan, and Kalypso Homan.

Befitting a group of lovable weirdos, Half Pagan had a weird live performance schedule. They were largely a recording band, but they gigged every solstice day. In fact, the last time I saw Homan was at Half Pagan’s final summer solstice gig on the banks of Bayou St. John during the pandemic.

Here’s to you Dr. Homan. You were among the most unforgettable people I ever met. I miss you, especially today. I still have the bottle of Jack Daniel’s you brought to a Muses party. I’ll drink a shot in your honor when the sun goes down. It’s the bottom of the year, so bottoms up.

The last word goes to Half Pagan with the song that gives this post its title.