Blah, blah

The stories are always the same. Sometimes I feel like I'm dropping names to impress somebody as though being in the vicinity of celebrity makes you special. The older I get, the less interest I have in the famous ones anyway.

You live a long time, though, and lots of folks do walk by. I suppose I started to think about it by the time I was four or five and my mom had managed to hold me up to the window of Roy Rogers' tour bus so that I could shake his hand. Then Uncle Reid managed to get me up close to the Lone Ranger at an air show so that I was able to get a mask from him.

Either working on bills with musicians or promoting concerts with them, I have worked with the Coasters, the Shangra Las, the Flatlanders, Sly and the Family Stone, Pete Seeger, Wilco, Jimi Hendrix, the Band, the Newbeats, Tommy Roe, the Allman Brothers, the Outlaws, Chuck Berry, Steve Earle, the Chambers Brothers, Dave Van Ronk, Bo Diddley, Michael Bloomfield, Judy Collins, the Byrds, Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, Gene Vincent, Sam The Sham and The Pharos, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, Bill Haley and The Comets, Van Morrison, John Mayall, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Steve Miller, Canned Heat, Donovan, Patti Smith, Rufus Wainwright, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Wanda Jackson, the Dave Clark 5, the Atlanta Rhythm Section, Tiny Tim, Derek and the Dominoes, Janis Joplin, the Kinks, Pink Floyd, Billy Preston, the Beach Boys and so many, many more.

Yeah, there are stories. Some of them are pretty good. None of it matters. I've got better ones about pie. Oh, and love. I've got better ones about love.