My friend Rodney just called. I answered the phone and he said, "Ronny, it's Rodney." I stammered and stuttered. I had just posted on a photo of his old band, The Mystics, that he had put up on Facebook. It was too soon for him to have seen the post but it was impossible to believe that he just happened to be calling. He was contacting me to express his sympathy on my mom's passing.
I have bragged about this before; I have the sweetest, most wonderful friends in the world. The only reason that I can boast so shamelessly is that I have nothing to do with it. I am living proof that whatever God you believe in won't let fools starve.
Sometimes I go for years at a time without seeing Rodney. If I need him, though, he's always there. Some force contacts him and lets him know.
Now I have thirteen songs almost completed for the new record. I had told Rodney some months back that I was working on a song about Handsome Harry "The Hipster" Gibson. He said that he would really like to sing on it. Well, if I haven't mentioned it, Rodney is a singer. No, I mean a singer. Hey, I'm one of those who generally goes for the non-singer. I want soul. I need to have my heart broken. Well, Rodney sings and breaks your heart. He's the real deal.
I can't wait.