I am headed up the road to “jam” night. The local Blues Society puts the show on every Monday night and tonight I am playin’ piano for my friend, Jeff. It’s gonna be easy. A few of his originals, some Waits and Newman. Howlin’ Wolf, Robert Johnson will get their due. Nothin’ much newer than that but that’s okay. I wasn’t trendy when I was young so there’s no hope for me now that I’m gray and brittle in the knees.
This has always been the way I’ve wanted it, though. Acknowledged but not acclaimed. A bit of respect but very little renown. I used to tell my buddies when we’d slum the skids (25th Street) in Ogden, Utah that I didn’t want to be “discovered” till I was 85 years old, 3/4 the way blind, senile w/ arthritic hands and a tendency to ramble on and on about my past, a past that had no semblance to my reality. I wanted to have the young folks sit at my feet and say, “Man, he must have been somethin’ 50 years ago.”
And, y’know what, I’ll bet you money some one says that to me tonight. And I’m no where close to 85. Dreams Really Do Come True.