Tuesday, September 25, 2012


Once, a long time ago, or so it seems, I interviewed this guy backstage at The Troubadour in West Hollywood. It was a bit surreal, and I have to admit that I was a bit off what with all the awesomeness surrounding me. He asked me to stick around and have a few beers with the band, offer a little dose of Canada after so many weeks of strict Americana, and I declined. I watched the show from the balcony, wrote the story, and got on with my life. Every once in awhile I think about that night, and I smile. Man, I've gotten to do some ridiculous things. Tonight I was doing my humble best to urge Maggie into quiet, when it struck me...none of that adds up to this. Walking the length of Big Sur...hugging two hundred strangers after Magglio Ordonez's Game 4 ALCS home run in 2006...none of it. Maggie likes to rest on my extended forearm, my hand cupping the back of her tiny head, just like her sister did. She quiets when I walk with her. She stares and listens to her Dad talk, and talk, and talk. Her stares right through me. She turns her head to meet my voice, and she smiles when she's happy with the arrangement. You can keep The Troubadour, and Jason Collett, and all of it. That was a pretty good memory though...and Jason Collett is pretty damn good...but Maggie's better.


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