May 9, 2008………Song Writers and Too Much Fun!
Chair dancing while listening to the Carter Brothers on the Internet tonight from Karen King's living room in Tavernier is exactly where I want to be. A couple of nights away from Key West to rest was perfect and tomorrow I’d head back to the Southernmost Point.
I got up in the morning excited about returning to Key West. I’d had some trouble with the starter on my truck before I’d left Old Town and was hoping it would start. I was supposed to pick up equipment at the Hogs Breath at 3pm and shuttle it and a musician somewhere on the Song Writer’s Fest schedule.
I got into the truck and turned the key to move it closer to the door to facilitate loading. I was not surprised when it wouldn’t start but have dealt with bad starters before so believed it would eventually start. I decided to pack the truck and try again in a while, knowing once I started it I wasn’t going to shut it off. I would allow 3 hours to get to the Hogs Breath to pick up the first load of equipment and contact the mobile mechanic I knew in Key West and have it taken care of while I was down there.
When it was time to go I sat in the driver’s seat and breathed deeply and tried the key several times with a positive attitude, delighted when it finally turned over. I waved goodbye as Karen wished me good luck and I headed to the Hog. As I was driving south down route 1, Bruce called to confirm I would be there in time to help move equipment and I said I was on my way.
I arrived at the Hog and helped load the equipment into my vehicle without turning it off. When asked why I simply said with a smile, “Because I am not sure it will start.” I drove to the next location and unloaded the truck, parked her in the lot and shut her off. She didn’t have to run again tonight, accept to drive me home, and home tonight was just the other side of the island so I could always get a cab and deal with it later.
I helped with sound checks and while waiting for musicians and promoters to arrive I thought about the people who would be on the guest list. Wonderful song writers from around the country, mostly from Nashville and all sects of people involved in the music business. It occurred to me this might be a good place to talk to someone from BMI, the agency my husband had listed his songs with in hopes for royalty payouts. I had not had any luck contacting them on the Internet and their signs were everywhere in the room as hosts of the songwriter’s fest.
A woman walked over to me and held out her hand to me. She introduced herself and asked me if I was a local. I told her I had lived in the Keys for many years but had just come down to help with this event. I asked her which company she was associated with and smiled when she answered, “I represent BMI.”
“How fortunate. I was hoping to talk to someone from your organization as my husband passed away last year and he has several songs listed with you. I need to get a contact email so I can put things into my name,” I explained to her.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” she exclaimed and continued, “Here comes just the man you need to talk to. He is involved in our legal department.”
Introductions were completed and I got a business card from him to make my legal tasks easier. The music was due to begin and people were beginning to file in from around the country. Excitement was in the air and the alcohol was flowing. I had a beer, listened to the opening greeting and the first set to make sure there was nothing else I could do to help.
When I was told my help was no longer needed I decided to see if my truck would start and move it to the Hogs Breath lot where I knew the parking attendant and wouldn’t be worried if it had to sit for a few days. It would cost me but I didn’t want it to be towed from where it sat now, that would cost me a lot more.
I went out and was pleasantly surprised when my little black beauty started right up. I headed to the Hogs Breath to listen to some great music and also hoping to see someone who knew the mobile mechanic’s name. I was having difficulty remembering his name and needed to locate his phone number and talk to him before I got stuck with a dead truck somewhere I didn’t want to be stuck.
I parked in the lot and walked up to order a beer and, once again, was pleasantly surprised when the first person to come up and say hello was the mechanic I needed to contact. He explained he was living on Cudjoe Key now and needed to do the work there. Fortunately I would be staying with Tami in a couple of days so he put me on his schedule and asked me to call him. I promised I would and bought us both a beer. Timing is everything!
I could now look forward to listening to some great music and not worry about when I would get my truck fixed. I was confident it would get me to Cudjoe and I would be able to drive up the Keys without any problems at all.
When the Carter Brothers arrived and gave me great big hugs I thought about how perfectly The Universe was treating me. I had just finished having great fun helping friends with a sail boat race, helping more friends with a writer’s fest and was now able to visit with more good friends while my favorite late night band played.
I listened to the band’s first set and promised to stay longer later in the week. The 10pm to 2am shift is not my favorite time to be out on the town and I only do it for special music and special musicians. I was especially glad I had come in tonight though, not only to talk to the mechanic but to find out about the birthday lunch at Blue Heaven tomorrow for the Carter boys.
I started my truck and drove across town and parked in front of Frank and Diana’s house hoping their dogs would remember me if I woke them. I entered quietly and snuck into my bedroom and never saw or heard a dog.
The next morning Stella, Daphne, Lulu and Bailey burst into my room with wags and kisses and I thoroughly enjoyed their greeting. I got up and had a cup of tea with the lovely Diana and told her there was a birthday lunch for the Carter Brothers today. She smiled and said, “We’ll have to get them a gift.”
We both said, in unison, “Let’s paint them birthday coconuts.” She had just finished showing me her coconut creations and she wanted to teach me how to paint. She had painted a beautiful portrait of Red from a photo she had taken and I hoped to learn some pointers from her. This was going to be fun.
We spent the morning being artists. She told me exactly what to do and how to do it. We created a couple of beautiful-one-of-a-kind-coco-cards. We headed for Blue Heaven with our gifts still a little wet but put the top down on the Jaguar to help them dry. She held the coconuts up in the breeze and I happily drove, Mick, her lovely car.
Timmy and Danny's birthday lunch at Blue Heaven was a little bit of heaven. Timmy, Danny, Ross, Joan and Nancy were already there when Diana and I arrived with our birthday coconuts. The boys loved them.
When we sat down in our chairs I looked around wondering if the tears would come. It seemed each time I went to a place where Red and I spent time I had difficulty in holding back the flood of tears. The first thing I saw as I looked around was two women sitting with their backs to us at the table right beside ours, both of them with butterfly tattoos.
I had just told Diana this morning how butterflies would appear when I believed Red was saying hello to me, so I pointed them out to her. I believe Red was telling me, “Hello honey. No need to cry.”
When Diana’s mouth dropped open at the double butterfly sighting Nancy asked us what we were looking at. I explained the situation to her and she kept saying throughout the meal, “That’s really something-two butterfly tattoos right here for us to see. Red really is saying hello, isn’t he?”
We all drank ice tea, probably the first time I didn't have either a Bloody Mary or a Mimosa while dining at Blue Heaven. I remember lots of times at Blue Heaven drinking with Bruce and Brian and Red... ouch, what great memories.
Diana and I left there and decided to stop at the art store to pick up paint on the way home. I got a complete set of starter paints and while standing in line the woman beside me was holding two butterflies. I pointed them out to Diana and she smiled and asked me if I wanted to go get a couple of them. I told her, “No. I don’t need to spend the money on them. They come to me for free!”
When we got home we hung out by the pool and talked and just enjoyed each others company for several hours. We talked about life, death, her mandolin lessons and her paintings. She had just finished a painting of Carlos when she got news he had passed away. She had been having trouble finishing the one she was doing of Timmy Carter and was now afraid to finish it. I told her I hoped to paint more coconuts with her and we decided to start right then Nancy’s Coconut, she’d loved the birthday coconuts and had ordered one for her restaurant.
The week went by quickly, enjoying the days helping with the events and listening to the musicians sing their songs. At one point, when I was at the Hogs Breath the sound engineer had to run an errand and the system on stage was acting up a bit when one particular artist would turn up his guitar. The engineer explained which knob to turn down if I heard any feedback and told me to get up on the stage behind the artists.
I didn’t hesitate. I was afraid if I didn’t jump right on it I might chicken out. I got up on stage and grabbed hold of the tree next to the sound equipment. It was a good time to practice my tree meditation because I could feel the tears welling up inside of me. I was standing on the Hogs Breath stage where my husband had played music and now here I was working behind the scenes.
I looked over at the bar and saw some people I had met last night who were in the music business from Franklin, TN and their mouths were dropped open, wondering what I was doing up there.
I was so proud of myself. I made it through the set and got off the stage without shedding a single tear. I sat down at the bar with my new friends from Franklin. After I explained to them what I was doing up there they told me they were so enjoying these young song writers they would be back again next year. They also spoke about doing the same thing in their home town as there were so many musicians who lived in Franklin. I told them I would be happy to help in any way I could and we exchanged contact information.
The rest of the day was spent listening to the stories the musicians would tell about writing the songs and talking about the people who had made the songs famous. I was beginning to understand how hard they worked and how little they were appreciated. Red had always hoped to have one of his songs “picked up” by a famous artist along the way. I wondered how he would have felt if they changed the way he had wanted it to sound. I guess as long as he was making good money from it he wouldn’t have minded.
My phone rang and it was Jason. I walked away from the crowds so I would be able to hear him. I could tell by the excitement in his voice something wonderful had happened. Thank God his voice was happy because a couple of days ago when we talked I had to act as the “motivating mother” and I know he doesn’t like it when I try to help him to be happy and get things accomplished. He had been complaining about feeling as though he’d been working hard and getting nowhere. When I had changed the subject and asked him what his summer plans were he’d told me he had no idea what he was going to be doing and that was part of the problem. I’d suggested if he didn’t feel as though he was being productive with his school work perhaps he ought to get online and see what jobs were available. He’d said he’d give it a try and hung up. I asked Red, if he had any pull, to help Jason get a job quickly, a wonderful job that would take his mind off his troubles.
“I got the job I emailed you about yesterday, Mom. I start June 11th. I can’t believe I will be captaining a 47 foot Catamaran in the British Virgin Islands teaching marine biology and sailing. They are even going to pay for my transportation. I have the summer job of my dreams,” he could hardly stop talking long enough for me to congratulate him and remind him of how down he was only 48 hours ago. I am always trying to help people see their mood is their choice. Life is exactly what you make it.
Of course, I didn’t do any preaching now. Jason had heard it all before and he’d called to make arrangements for June, wondering when I would be back at the Suwannee.
I told him he should just let me know. I had a few ideas of things I’d like to do, if he didn’t mind. “Right now, I don’t mind anything,” he laughed. I was glad things had happened so quickly wondering if Red’s spirit had helped. Jason’s life had changed for the better over night.
I headed back to the stage where the next group of was getting up to play their music. Life was good and the music was great.
This was the last evening of the song writers’ fest and I’d planned on spending the night at Tami’s on Cudjoe. I gave her a call to see what time she would be getting off work and she said it would be in time for dinner. I asked her if she would like to be my date and go to Alonso’s for happy hour and she said she’d love it.
We walked together to our favorite place to eat, ordered from the left side of the menu where everything was half price during happy hour and enjoyed each other’s company while we waited for our food.
We talked about how much things had changed in our lives. She was ready to move back to Atlanta and I told her Key West would not be the same without her. It wasn’t the same without Red and if she left there would be one less reason for me to come here. I told her if she needed help moving she could count on me. She thanked me and said she just might take me up on my offer.
We ate our delicious meal and while following her up to Cudjoe I gave my mechanic a call. I’d hoped to get my starter replaced in the morning. Fortunately he said he could be there at 8am. When I gave him directions he laughed and thanked me for parking my truck less than a mile away from where he lived.
Tami and I watched a movie and got to bed early and she was out the door by 8am. My mechanic showed up as she was leaving, worked for a little while, yelled up to tell me I had a bad starter and took the old one with him to the parts store, hoping they had one in stock.
He returned in less than 30 minutes and had the new starter on before 10am. I love it when a plan comes together. I thanked him and paid him and decided, since tomorrow would have been my 9th wedding anniversary with Red, I would go back into town for a couple more nights of fun.
I called Tami to see when she would be getting out of work and whether she wanted to stay in to dance a bit to the Carter Brothers. She said she would be working late and would love to have a couple of drinks and dance a bit before going home. I drove into town and walked around before heading back to the Hog for the late night band.
Tami and I had a great time and she wanted to head home as soon as The Carter Brothers were done their first set to make sure she didn’t stay for another couple of hours. I laughed remembering Red always calling to tell me how happy he was to “escape” from the fun at the Hog before it got “too drunk out.”
I told her to drive safely. I would see her in town the next day.
A few musician friends of mine were watching the Carter Brothers and they themselves were as much fun to watch as the band on stage. They’d had a little too much fun this evening and I was ready to head to the other side of the island so I offered to give them all a ride home.
One of them decided he needed food just as the Carter Brothers were finishing up their second set. I told him Island Fries was open and thought he could get something there. He proudly informed me he had consumed 27 beers and was ordering number 28.
I asked him if he was going for a personal record and he said no and promptly spilled beer number 28 all over a dozen bottles of Hog's Breath hot sauce at the raw bar. I wished I’d had a video of him trying to hold all those little bottles from falling while the bartender was trying to get them out of harm’s way. Once the commotion was over I looked at the bartender and asked him to please give my friend a bottle of water. He looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language.
“Yes, I think he needs to drink some water, that was beer number 28,” I explained and this time he nodded in agreement and gave him a water.
After he had drunk his water and our other friends said they were ready to leave they all expressed their desires to get something to eat. I looked over to see Island Fries had closed. Someone said Salsa Loca was having a party tonight and they may still have some food out. My friends climbed into my truck, a few in the back and one in the passenger seat beside me.
I told my passenger I remembered the last time I drove to the other side of town with a bunch of happy drunken musicians in the back of my pickup truck. It felt almost exactly the same. I was sober and everyone was singing and I was concerned about being stopped by the police so I took back roads across town.
The only difference was, the last time I did this, Red was sitting in the passenger seat singing out the window in perfect harmony trying not to be mad at me for telling him I was not going to let him drive. I missed those days and I missed him.
I parked a couple of blocks past Salsa Loca so we had to walk back. As I suspected nobody was there but right across the street was a 24 hour Denny's waiting for us.
We walked in and ordered food and laughed and talked for at least an hour. Someone kept saying, “I hope someone is writing this down, we are just too funny.” But as it is with most nights in Key West the jokes were hysterical but lost forever in the Key West fog of fun. We were all laughing so hard at one point we were crying, not minding at all we were being watched by the dozen or so diners in Denny’s.
When the check came they began to pull dollar bills out of every pocket. I laughed and told these musicians who were counting their tip money, “Let's let Red’s money pay for this meal. He would have loved every minute of it.”
Their mouths dropped open and they gratefully accepted. They all left several dollars for the tip and our waitress, who kept calling me “mom” and entertaining my friends with her wit and attentiveness, followed us out to the sidewalk hugging and kissing each one of us, thanking us for coming in and leaving her such a great tip. We’d made her night and she’d helped make ours.
I dropped the happy gentlemen off at their perspective houses happy I would not feel the way they would when morning came around. I drove to Frank and Diana’s and tip toed in and climbed into bed wondering where I would eat my anniversary dinner tomorrow night and whether or not I would be alone. I guessed I would just let the day unfold. Sometimes the best plan is no plan.
I had my morning tea by the pool and told Diana it was my 9th anniversary. Red had promised me a diamond this year for our 9th and I was considering purchasing a lovely blue one I had looked at in the jewelry store where Tami worked. The more I thought about it the more I realized I am not a diamond kind of girl, at least not one who would buy one for herself, so I let that idea drift away across the pool water.
When I asked her what they were doing for dinner she said they had no plans yet, but she knew they were going out to eat and would love it if I joined them. I agreed it would be much better than dining alone and she smiled and disappeared.
She must have said something to Bruce who was staying at their house in the spare bedroom. When he came out to the pool he gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me happy anniversary. I thanked him and tried not to cry.
They told me I got to pick where which restaurant we would eat at and gave me 3 different choices. I chose Salute. We sat outside at the same table Red and I had sat at a few times and ordered a bottle of wine. We had a delicious dinner and after we were done eating I walked inside to look around with Bruce, Diana and Frank following me. I had completely forgotten what decorated the walls here.
There were a dozen fiddles over two of the walls in the bar. Now I knew why I had chosen this place and chosen to walk inside afterwards. I think we all shed a few tears and walked outside. It was comforting knowing I was not the only one missing him.
After dinner they took me downtown and I took everybody's advice and got loaded, well, as loaded as I can get these days. Thank God I can't drink as much as I used to, but I drank enough to keep me happy until the Carter Brothers were done playing at the wee hour of 2am. Then they asked me to join them at the Green Parrot for a couple more drinks. Why not? After all, it was my anniversary.
We sat and talked there until the lights came on at 4am. Bright lights at closing time, OUCH.
Thankfully it has been a LONG time since I'd seen those. I was truly glad to have them shining in my eyes tonight. I left a couple of un-drunk drinks on the bar and asked someone to call me a cab.
They all laughed and joked about how you know you are a local when the cab drivers know where you live and the police help you into the cab. Well, I didn't need any help from the police, but was glad the cab-driver knew where I was staying. He said he had poured a few friends out at Frank and Diana’s since they moved to Key West a few months ago.
I woke the next morning with a slight hang over and realized I was finished with Key West for this visit. I would head up the Keys and then head on home in a day or two.
As I drove north I had a sad sinking feeling in my heart. I hadn't had this, “I-feel-responsible-for-his-death-feeling” in a long time. I wondered if it was just last night’s blues coming out. He worked so hard, he worried so much, he was a musician on the road, trying to be home more, trying not to drink as much, always trying and feeling frustrated when he couldn't “do it all.” Regardless of where these feeling were coming from, I was heading home, alone and sad.
I spent a couple of days with Karen and then headed north to stop at my son’s in Orlando. A night with him always breaks up my trip and keeps me from being alone one more night. On my way north my psychic friend called to tell me Red had come to him in a dream a couple of nights ago and wouldn’t let him rest until he called to tell me, “Red’s death is not your fault.” This was the same thing my psychic friend told me the day I met him.
Red’s death was not my fault. I should stop feeling guilty about it. His lifestyle was his own choosing and he didn’t want me to hurt anymore with this guilt.
All I could say was thank you and hang up and cry and tell the air I was trying as hard as I could not to blame myself. These things take time and hard work, but mostly time. Looking forward to the future helped some too, when I remembered to think about it. My youngest son was going to run his first Tybee race in a couple of days. Focus on the fun, Diane.
May 11, 2008…………………………………..Tybee 500 and Tami’s Move
I wasn’t on the race committee for this race so getting information on the actual start time was a little difficult. Races are supposed to start at a certain time but when their start line is in the middle of Card Sound and you are positioned on the Card Sound Bridge there is a waiting game to be played.
Standing on my favorite bridge with about a dozen other spectators, most of them race committee, family and friends, was fun and rather exciting. Talking to everyone, finding out what boat they were with and what their relationship was to that boat kept us busy while we waited as patiently as possible.
“The first boat is headed this way,” yelled someone with binoculars. That signaled all those with cameras to be ready; these little Nacra 20s move across the water very quickly.
“It’s a Marley White boat,” someone yelled out. The person next to me remembered my son was on one of the two Marley White hulled boat teams and said with a smile, “Could be your son.”
I had left my binoculars in my truck and wasn’t going to risk running back for them. I would rely on everyone else’s eyes and planned on taking shots of every boat that passed under the bridge. I was planning on taking a combination of video and still shots depending on who and how fast they flew below us.
There were only 9 entries in the race and after the first 8 had gone past someone kept saying they were pretty sure the Dennis and Jason team had been one of them. I didn’t think that was the case. Even though the bridge is over a hundred feet above the water I am pretty sure I would recognize my own son.
“Wait,” someone else yelled. “I see another boat over in the water. It looks like they are righting themselves now. Looks a Marley White.” With the wind and the occasional vehicle going past everyone was yelling with excitement.
“Well, at least they have righted themselves and are on their way,” I thought to myself. What a miserable way to start a 500 mile race.
About 10 minutes went by while we waited for the last entry to pass below us on the bridge. I took a few shots of Dennis and Jason sailing their hearts out trying to make up some time. They didn’t look very happy but I knew they would shake off the attitude once they saw boats ahead of them. They are such a great sailing team if they could see the boats, they could most likely catch them.
I had decided to spend the first 4 days of the race visiting a friend on the west coast and catch up with the racers and crew in Fernandina Beach. I got a call each evening, shortly after Jason arrived on the beach, to let me know they were in safely and where they were in the standings.
I drove to Fernandina Beach and, as my great luck would have it, despite the road construction and poor directions I arrived at the scene just as the first boat was coming ashore. The waves were huge and they surfed in at a phenomenal speed. I took photos and videos of each boat as they arrived. The hoots and hollers of the spectators made me happy. Red would have loved this.
The last morning of the race the wind was howling and a storm was brewing to the west, headed for the race course. About a half an hour before scheduled race time Dennis decided they were not going. Jason was disappointed and tried to find another sailor, never giving up till the last few minutes before the race. I was proud of him and the way he handled his disappointment. I had to walk away so I wouldn’t embarrass him with my tears. I knew how much he wanted to start today and finish this race.
After the 8 boats left the shoreline he helped his crew members tear down the boat and pack up the gear. I told him he could ride with them to Tybee, with me to Tybee or we could just go back to my house on the Suwannee for an extra night. It was up to him. He said he would like to ride up to Tybee with me and spend the night celebrating the end of the race with everyone else.
I asked him if he would like me to drive and I wasn’t surprised when he said yes. Despite the fact he usually drove when we were together in a vehicle he was tired and somber and just wanted to be alone with his thoughts in the passenger seat.
It was a relatively quiet ride to Tybee, Georgia. When we arrived in the town we were welcomed by a festival just beginning. Apparently at the beginning of every summer season the locals line the streets with their pick up trucks and water balloons and throw them at the vehicles driving by who appear to be tourists. We rode with our windows up laughing at the partiers on either side of the street with their booze and their balloons.
We had a couple of hours before the boats would be arriving so we met with some of the other race committee folks and grabbed a bite to eat.
“Did you know the waters they are racing through today are some of the best breeding grounds for sharks on the east coast?” one of them informed me. I looked at Jason and said, “No, I didn’t. When Dennis said he had, ‘a bad feeling about entering the race,’ I didn’t question him. He knows about intuition and you have to listen to those voices inside your head.”
Jason just looked out at the water and said, “I hope everybody gets here safely.”
I would like to note here the very next race that boat was in ended in a mechanical malfunction that may have cost them their lives had they run in the last day of the Tybee. Yes, those voices inside your head could be from other sources!
The boats all made it in safely. The final boat came in very late with a torn sail and a crew happy to be on shore. The party that night was fun and we left early the next morning to head back to my home on the Suwannee and spend a night there.
After being on the road for a couple of hours I told Jason to be on the lookout for the exit to my house. Jason spotted a boat on a trailer that looked very familiar on the road ahead. He sped up to it, and sure enough, it was the boat he’d sailed in the race. He was happy to see it just before we left the interstate to head west to rest for a couple of nights on the Suwannee before heading back to the Keys.
We had a nice visit doing a lot of nothing at my house and then packed for a quick trip to the Keys. The timing of everything was falling together perfectly, once again. We drove to Islamorada so I could do a health seminar on the 20th. The following day Jason drove me to Tami’s on Cudjoe Key and I helped her pack the rest of her belongings and spent one last night in her apartment.
Jason drove my truck back to Orlando to help his brother move into his new place after spending a couple of nights with his friends in the upper Keys.
Tami and I drove to Atlanta in her 60’ U haul truck and trailer with no problem at all. We stopped to spend the night at my house on the Suwannee; such a nice stopping place.
We continued on to Atlanta and met with the crew at the storage unit as scheduled. I flew out the next day to Orlando and Jason picked me up at the airport. He had had a couple of good days moving his brother and was looking forward to spending some more time alone with me at the Suwannee House.
My sons asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I told them I would like some help painting the Georgia house. I had to go north to Ellijay, Georgia to attend the testamentary hearing at the courthouse and if Josh could get the time off it would be a fun trip for the 3 of us. I am not sure how much fun they thought it would be, but we all went up there together. We spent a night at the Suwannee house and then headed to Talking Rock, stopping in Jasper for groceries on the way. We painted, talked and laughed a lot. It felt good to be there with them.
We went to the courthouse and I finally met with the judge. She was so apologetic for the cancellations earlier in the year and I assured her it all worked out just fine. She swore me in and while we were waiting for the clerk to make copies she shared with me she too had lost her husband. I’d had met so many women left behind by their spouse since Red died; so many lonely women. I prayed they could all be as happy and have the attitude towards life that I had. I knew a few angry widows and it made me sad to think they carried anger towards a deceased loved one. Anger corrodes the vessel it’s in.
After we got the paperwork from the courthouse we stopped by the power company and submitted the forms they needed to send me a check. Apparently the electric company was going to send me the security deposit we had made back when we had our service turned on.
As I was standing in line for the next power company clerk I smiled remembering the day our power was turned on;
It was about 8am and Red and I were in bed when we heard someone yelling, “If you want this here power turned on we better start hearin’ some fiddle tunes playin’ real fast. I think ya oughta start with Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
Red and I jumped out of bed and threw on our clothes. He grabbed his fiddle and I opened the door for him while he drew that mighty bow across his strings and made those wonderful sounds for the power crew standing in our front yard. They were friends of his and they weren’t giving us any electricity until they heard some great music.
I am blessed with so many memories and not enough time or paper to write them all down.
I walked back out to my son’s car and we headed towards the Suwannee house. Joshua would leave the next day and I would take Jason to Orlando in a few days so he could fly to his new job in the British Virgin Islands.
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