Back in The City that Loves You Back

It's been hot, hot, hot....everywhere.  Just got back from Florida visiting with my parents who are folk musicians and very active in the music scene down there.  I got to play in a coffee house in Eustis, which was cool, and the audience seemed to like what I did.  Also I got together with friends I've made over the years and jammed several times.   This is huge down there.  Circle jams at someone's house or at a library or wherever there's air-conditioning.  Got to hear a great guitarist in concert...Bob Rafkin...from Orlando.  But now I'm back in the City that Loves You Back.  I went to my usual haunt on Sunday afternoons in Suburban Station where the acoustics are fabulous (think cathedral) but Phillip, the flute player, had beaten me to it.  He's busking again.  He took a month or two off.  And now he's back.  We chatted a bit, but then I moved on to Rittenhouse Square.  It was so hot, I was the only musician there.  But it was important to get back into and touch base with my people.  I tried out some new songs.  After all, I had all that time in the car, driving alone, to memorize lyrics.  There's this one song that is kind of schmaltzy and country that I grew up on and I love called "End of the World" by Skeeter Davis.  Anyway, I gave that a whirl, and it really wasn't so bad.  Move over, Garth Brooks!
Anyway, I figured it was a successful day.  Made a few people smile.  Made a few bucks. 
And I felt the love.

My Lucky Day

Sunday afternoon.   Heat wave on the streets above.  I'm playing in Suburban Station, the concourse, to be exact, where people wait for their trains, a captive audience.  Lucky for me.  Not to mention, it's air-conditioned, and the acoustics are phenomenal.  There's a wonderful resonance and the sound carries like in a cathedral.
A middle-aged man is standing off to the side, listening.  After a song or two he introduces himself as Leroy, and tells me he paints.  He tells me he missed his train, and would like to sketch me, as he had a whole hour before the next train left.  Lucky for me.
He sets up his drawing pad on a trash can.  He is watching me and proceeds to set up his markers and paper.
He begins to sketch.  I know the routine, as my wife, Patricia, used to sketch me a lot.  He starts out slowly, and builds up a head of steam.
I play several songs.  Ain't No Sunshine, Summertime, some originals, hoping something will inspire him.
I'm also hoping he'll give me the sketch when he's done.
His train is announced.
He packs up and makes his way toward my guitar case, then gently deposits the sketch on top of the dollars and coins.  He smiles and thanks me.  I thank him.  It's a regular love fest.
Yes, my lucky day.

Two to Tango

Picture this.  It's Sunday afternoon.  I'm playing in the concourse at Suburban Station.  A really slow sexy and sad song by Bill Withers called Ain't No Sunshine.  Suddenly a gorgeous Asian couple appears.  She is tall and slender and is wearing full-length tight summer dress, which accentuates her figure.  They start dancing a tango.  I don't know how they manage to fit the tango rhythm to the song, but they do.  She is so beautiful, she could probably manage to dance anything and it would work.  I really get into the song, a doleful harmonica solo in the middle.  A crowd gathers silently.  Watching.  The song is a sad song about how the sunshine is gone since his woman has left.  Only darkness everyday.  Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she's gone away.  I end with a sad wailing harmonica riff.  The couple ends with a low dip.  There is silence.  Then the gathered crowd breaks into applause. 
And this is why I love doing what I'm doing.  It's moments like that happen every day.

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