vicarious thrills

Went and played with my old bandmates tonight… Acoustic guitars and interesting facial hair, all ’round. Guys who might as well be my long lost brothers, now living lives very different from my own. It was great.

dutchgirlAfterward, the tip jar — a nice touch — was packed with bills. I refused my cut, but Jon (the one still most active, touring, etc.) insisted on stuffing a few bucks in my hand when he heard we were headed to Del Taco. “For your damn burrito, at least!” Jon couldn’t make it; he had his twentysomething girlfriend from Amsterdam with him, and, well, you know. They just got back from Mexico that day, and were headed to Vegas the next morning…

guitarMy Macho Combo Burrito With Fries (regular post-gig munch, back when) was awesome. But chatting was awesomer. Craig � quite possibly the sweetest guy I’ve ever known � blew me away when he told of playing his guitar at home, and having his 17-year-old daughter wander in, grab her guitar (she plays in two bands), and join him. He also described taking her to see McCartney (our pal Rusty plays with him), and how excited she was. That was when I realized (and blurted) that what he’d just described is the main (only?) reason I ever really wanted kids… To have that experience. And now, he’d provided it for me, vicariously, at least. And I guess that’s at least partly what old friends like these are for.