Saturday, April 12, 2014

Is Roger McGuinn an exceptional musician, an American treasure...or a paranoid celebrity?

4/12/14 20:33 Home

On Thursday night I drove to Bay Shore from Port Jefferson.  I’m at the end of my rope with my GPS which I bought a few years ago.  It has the annoying tendency to bring me though all sorts of side roads and through every street light which just happens to have ability to sprint to red when I approach.  On a rare occasion I don’t mind the scenic view.  I get to see small hamlets in Pennsylvania where I travel for work, and if I have the time - I truly appreciate the faded architecture, quaint towns with empty benches on deserted sidewalks, stoic tree lined Main Street... but the GPS gives and takes.  It does not filter.  I have been in places where share panic creeps up and I pray to God to let the lights turn to green and please keep the car running.  Don't stop!  The GPS was up to some old tricks on my journey to the Bolton Center.  The good news I made it on time for the Roger McGuinn show.  I can’t complain, and on the way back home I let my sense of direction lead the way and made it home in good time.  Before I write about after the show, I have to share some thoughts.  For instance you’re waiting for the story why I feel Roger McGuinn may suffer from a severe dose of paranoia or perhaps it’s something else he’s battling with?  First, the Bolton Center is a very intimate venue, less than 265 seats, the back rows rise up so you’d need to walk up a flight of stairs to get to your seat unless you’re in the VIP section.  For a little place - you can’t go wrong taking a hike.  I took my seat, middle of the theater and scanned over the rest of the sold out crowd, I was one of the youngest. The seats were compact and had an elbow in my sides for the first half of the show.  Even a dirty look couldn't stop the physical contact.  Anyway, I should be one the youngest. This was a Roger McGuinn show for God’s sake, the man was one of the Byrds, the singer, the leader for all of those classic albums.  1965...the year I was born. He is not from my generation.  He came out playing, “So you want to be a rock n roll star,” on his Rickenbacker.  His voice was crisp and his playing blew me away.  The set which was roughly two hours with a fifteen minute intermission.  The show was presented without flaws and was full of insightful stories of how the Byrds started, from their name (Thanksgiving) to the legends they worked with and the side-notes behind their songs, the Dylan classic, “Mr. Tambourine Man”, which was the first “rock” single Columbia released.  The now classic record company was very conservative.  The story behind his single for the Easy Rider soundtrack is classic, Dylan wrote some lyrics on a napkin and Peter Fonda who starred and directed the movie brought it to Roger.  When Fonda came to his house with the napkin, he told Roger, Dylan said, “Let McGuinn work on it, he came make something out of it.”   The story how they came to write 8 Miles High was funny, and as he played the opening, he said he filled it in with some John Coltrane and Andres Sagovia…  Chestnut Mare, and songs off Sweetheart of the Rodeo, Turn, Turn, Turn. There unique Irish folk songs, old time ancient maritime songs from whaling ships as well as more stories.  He played the 12 String guitar as well as acoustic and banjo.  As the show progressed and as I felt in awe for the supreme musician.  I know it sounds like bull shit, but honestly - I felt it was an honor - to be in his audience.  McGuinn is an American treasure.  I was amazed at his mastery of the guitar.  And I mean it.  I’d like to see him again.  Alright, so you may know I like autographs.  I heard McGuinn does not come out after the show to sign at his merchandise table.  There were some signed CD’s and posters for sale. Not too expensive, but I brought an album with me which I left in the car. After the concert I head out to my car which I parked behind the theater.  I sat down, turned the key and looked at my album.  I felt that tug; he’s still here and you can wait outside and…maybe get him to sign it?  I walk over the stage door in back and figure; I’ll knock and see if I can get this done.  There were two guys standing off to the side.  I bang.  “What are you doing?”  I was going to see if I can get this signed.  “No, you can’t do that; you’re going to piss him off!”  Will he come out there?  “We’ll see…just wait.”  While waiting with the two other men who were younger than me, I heard their stories they exchanged with one another, meeting Sting and Bono, seeing President Carter last week.  One of them tells us - he has more than a thousand autographs and pictures.  Let’s call him Celebrity.  I feel this is a good sign, since Celebrity knows what he’s doing and I’m going home with signed album.  He shows us pictures of him and Sandra Bullock, Robert Deniro, Brad Pitt. I kid you not.  How do you?  He was coy,“Friends tell me where to go.”  It was getting later and getting a little cooler standing outside in the night air; a truck is backed up to the stage door.  One of the employees for the theater opens the stage door and tells us, “He’s not signing.”  Celebrity tells him, “I just want a picture, I can ask - right?”  The employee shrugs his shoulders giving us the impression, we don't get it...Roger McGuinn is a different guy, he’s not doing anything.  Keep in mind, there were…one…two…three of us.  That is all.  Not a big crowd to swarm over the rock n roll star.  What’s up?  But remember I read McGuinn does not sign.  His wife, Camille is his manager and as I learned – she is his main security guard.  I encountered her direct and blunt orders.  She does not let anyone close to him. Before the brief sighting outside with the legend, his instruments were packed into the truck.  Celebrity tells me, “Don’t try to shake his hand.”  I nod.  I get it; he’s a musician and does not want my big claws to squeeze too tight and perhaps bust a knuckle or something.  I get it.  The back door opens and his wife, all 5 foot 6 storms up to us, waving her index finger, shaking her head,  “No, it’s not happening!  Good night!”  Being the tallest of the three, she comes up to me… gently but sternly pushes me away.  Why?  I ask her.  I just want one autograph.  And this is what she repeated over and over which shocked me, “It’s too dangerous.  It’s too dangerous.  No!  It’s too dangerous!”  While I am being pushed away, I see the hunched over rock n roll star escape from the open stage door and flee into the waiting truck, his door closes and he is secure.  Who is this?  I saw this once before when I saw President Obama in Philadelphia.  That’s another story.  This is Roger McGuinn, 1965, The Byrds, Turn...turn...turn...and his wife (maybe she was a former security guard and likes the role of enforcer) she gets in the truck and they drive off.  Roger waves.  That was nice.  I waved my album back to him and asked the rock star, just one autograph?  The truck drove off.  Celebrity calls his wife a bitch.  No, I don’t think so.  She was tough.  She loves her husband and wants to protect him.   And I tell them as they walk away, McGuinn is from the John Lennon generation.  And they walk away not knowing what I was trying to convey.  Take a look at what happened to Lennon.  Mark David Chapman, was one Lennon’s fans.  Maybe Roger is not taking any chances?  Even if it was only three of us; I’m sorry to have encountered such a negative reaction from him and his wife.  Most of the artists I meet are grateful for the recognition.  Not for Rock N Roll star, who does not have to sign anything or say a word.  I understand.  Wave to the crowds.  All three of us who stood there driven by vanity.  It was a lesson learned for me as well.  I should have enjoyed the show and went home with my album, and respected the privacy of the man and his wife. 


Dang, I still had some questions I wanted to ask him for this blog.  Oh well…

Thank you for reading this




Sunday, April 6, 2014

Sharing Garden: an organic garden, in which all of the crops will be donated to a local food pantry

4/6/14 20:40 Home


Today, I read in front of the church, I do this about once a month which gives me the opportunity to sharpen my public speaking.  Today’s reading what a bit of a challenge Ezekiel Chapter 37 verses 1 through 14 which is long and starts with the title, The Valley of Dry Bones. The prophetic message was…well…sort of disturbing and sure - it is also hopeful.  From bones comes the flesh and with the flesh...breath.  I started with a brief introduction to the prophet, putting him in the company of Isiah and Jerimiah.  I’m not writing about the reading, although I will have to share with you as I walked back to our pew I saw Bella who gave me a thumb’s up. This is the same child who earlier - did not want to scoot into the pew to give me room to sit. She defiantly said; she didn’t want to move - she liked her seat - she had a better view of our handsome new music minister, a young man from Stony Brook University.


I want to keep a record of the organic garden we have at our church.  All of the fruits of our labor will be donated to a food pantry.  Those who are less fortunate can have organic and locally grown food.  Yesterday, I met the insightful and warm Iman Marghoob who is helping plan what the crops and will participate in the management of the garden; which is named Sharing Garden.  After leaving the house, as low grey clouds churned in the spring winds just a few hundred feet above the earth, I met Iman a little after 9:00.   She asked where the rest of the volunteers were.  The plan I had was to get together with her and discuss the layout of the garden as well as have some direction since I was expecting close to 12 volunteers who arrived at 10:00.  We had eight from a girl-scout troop and Jim Hennessey who was vital for repairing the wagon as well as Jeff Klauder and family.  Jeff’s wife, Mel is very knowledgeable about the species of plants and I have to say, was the hardest worker, pulling up weeds, tossing the dirt bombs with green tails into the wheel barrel with such precision -barely missing anyone close to her.  The girl scout troop jumped to work and were directed by Iman and their leaders as I went around with a digging fork, which is not the same as a pitch fork.  Most of us common folks refer to the fork looking instrument that we have in our garages or sheds at a pitch fork and now you’re like me –we know these are digging forks.  The pitch fork has thinner tines and used more often for lifting clumps hay.  The digging fork is used for lifting clumps of weeds or very good for pulling up potatoes, and as we discovered with a thrust of dirt – some soft beets which were unearthed from last year’s garden.  There is enough sun on one half of the garden and the second half will have assorted vegetables which do not require too much sun.   It’s a project I felt compelled to do.  The girl scouts plated pea seeds against a fence.  We marked sections, 5 x 5 with a 1.5 path.  This will be organic so it means removing any plastic walkways and instead using wood mulch.  We are planting seeds and with attentive care - the plants will sprout as the days increase in light.  So, to some who may be reading this - no more basketball; my Saturday mornings will be shared with other hands in the soil of our garden. Like I said, this will be a journal of what we can grow together; to share with our friends at the food pantry.  If you'd like to join us, please bring your own tools, clearly marked and most important - good thoughts of hope when walking through the garden's gate.





Saturday, March 29, 2014

Amy Helm and her BAND burn down THE house in Patchogue!

3/29/14 16:11 Home…

It’s my son’s birthday and he has some friends over for a party.  It gives me time to jot down a few sentences into this blog and I hope not to bore you with a report of the weather (it’s raining) or a public display of displeasure or the assorted bitch session.  No, this is another report of another musical event as well as a description of yet another impressive theater on Long island.  The Patchogue Theater hosted its fifth annual folk festival last Saturday.   The seats in the balcony were very comfortable, lots of leg room and for $20 the price was right for this family man.  The theater opened in 1923 as per the web site and had vaudeville shows as well as, “the best in burlesque.” The theater has a grand lobby with a bar off to the left.  I expected to have my ticket scanned, but my friend Jeff and I walked up to the entrance to the balcony and handed our tickets to an usher who didn’t rip them, instead he waved his hand and smiled.  Up we went.  As it turned out everyone who worked were volunteers.   Under a large hanging chandelier the orchestra looked sparsely attended.  It was Jeff’s idea to move down and only after Caroline Doctorow opened.  She had Russ Seeger on guitar and violin.  Their set was crisp and I was impressed with the various songs she performed as well as a Seeger original.  That man can play guitar and as a local artist I hope to see more of his performances.  Like Caroline we are lucky to have these national talents in our area.  Second on the bill was Amy Helm who I saw performing with Ollabelle as an opening act for her father Levon Helm at Central Park Summer Stage a few years ago.  Her and her band (The Handsome Strangers) walked onto the stage and she looked confident and smiled to the cheers from the audience.  Dan Littleton took a seat and in simpler terms, kicked ass.  They opened with Roll the Stone and Jeff and I were blown away.  Now, I wouldn’t classify Amy Helm as folk, instead she’s a hard edged blues which shredded any resemblance to an acoustic performance.  Think of a voice that belts out like a Janis Joplin, but a naturally attractive woman with curly summer blonde hair. On lead guitar was the incredible Dan Littleton, Brooklyn’s own Byron Issacs on bass, and I apologize I did not get the drummer’s name.  From what I learned, this is a new band for her.  During one song of the set, the three of them (Amy, Dan and Byron) came down off the stage to sing a spiritual song a capella.  “Let’s see how the acoustics sound,” Amy said.  They filled the room with their perfect harmony.  To some disappointed fans there were no songs from The Band in her set, but I will stand corrected if you heard something different.  I assumed we’d hear The Weight?  Look for her first solo album which is expected to be released soon.  Amy said she appreciated opening and always admired Suzanne Vega, but honestly the brimming energy left the room when Helm walked off the stage.   Vega came out with her top hat and Gerry Leonard who stunned us with his guitar playing.  For all you guitarists check out his blog…the room filled with various sounds which emanated from various electronics through tapping on pedals and his fingertips.  I’ve always appreciated Vega’s clear voice which sounds as perfect as when I first heard her… thirty years ago…longer?  She played her hits, Luka, Left of Center as well as songs off her new album which I bought after the show.  The songs are spiritual in nature and I listened to her interview on  I had waited in a short line to have it signed and have to tell you…Suzanne Vega is not the warmest of sorts, actually appeared bothered and signed the album without asking who I was.  She noticed my t-shirt and mentioned seeing or knowing Levon, her voices was a monotone cool drone. But wait, most artists would personalize the album or CD or book.  Who should I make this out to?  It was as if she waved me off after her scribble - off you go… fan who paid… $20.00 for my LP.   At least a thanks?  Nothing.  In direct contrast was Amy Helm and her band who were approachable and down to earth.  Amy saw the Levon Helm T-Shirt I wore and smiled.  Jeff and I had some dialogue with Dan and Byron and eventually moved to Amy.  She asked who I was and the three of us discussed the Midnight Rambles at the barn as well as our children.  She was very warm and I hope to see her full set in the future.


Thank you for reading this.   



Training the Mind: Verse 1 | The Office of His Holiness The Dalai Lama

Training the Mind: Verse 1 | The Office of His Holiness The Dalai Lama

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Delayed at the Airport and watching an irate woman take on US Air

3/16/14 16:49 Home

One hour delay due to mechanical problems or some other excuse…

While I was delayed in Philadelphia; waiting for my flight back to Islip, I watched an irate woman, who although delayed was dressed impeccably in a business suit with a beautiful black leather hand bag.  She had long straight brown hair, and an expensive watch.  I imagined her to be more composed most of the time, but this time - it was different.  The extended delay was a problem for her.  She missed an important meeting and she was pissed.  She was letting everyone know how pissed off she was.  She yelled at a US Air representative who stood behind a counter and he appeared stoic and resolute.  I knew by watching his passive face and restrained response, this was part of his job.  He’s been through this before, perhaps been through professional training of what to say, and not to say when a passenger was this upset.  He was trying his best to calm her down, but he lost her - she was too far into her anger to see past anything.  Most eyes were watching how the scene developed.  “I was bumped off my flight and I have waited here since ten AM!  This is unacceptable! This is poor customer service!”  She actually waved her finger at him, as if scolding him.  A small crowd formed, he asked if he could help some others who needed his immediate assistance, she flung her arm out (giving him her reluctant approval to help the others) and then this older woman; let’s refer to her as the grandmother in the scene, tried her best to listen to the irate woman and seemed to convey some sympathy, by shaking her head and making a pouty face.  “Oh, you poor dear.”  But when another woman appeared things switched.  The other woman wore a big NY Giants T-Shirt and was clearly disabled, perhaps born with the defects which made her arms, lifeless; her face hung loosely, her tongue jutted from wet lips.  When she overheard the commotion; the public display of irritation; she too looked with sympathy at the professional woman who was beside herself, brimming with anger.  The disabled woman sensing the other's frustration and anger repeated, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”  The professional woman’s tone changed.  She looked at the disabled woman, and tried to tell her how...she waited...and was told she’d get credit, but that wasn’t happening… all of a sudden the shift we waited for…which we hoped from the US Air agent…occurred.  The professional woman looked at the disabled woman and I saw her shoulders slouch and she sighed.  Peace was restored.  A lesson learned for us.  

Sure, the delay was an inconvenience…but it was only a delay.

Thank you for reading this.


Sunday, March 16, 2014

What if Iggy Pop sang for Joy Division or Don't Take Pictures in Carnegie Hall

3/12/14 16:44 Philadelphia Airport waiting for a connection to Pittsburgh

Last night, I saw Iggy Pop for the first time. I’d like to see him again since the performance was a benefit concert at Carnegie Hall for Tibet House, the cultural capital in the US for Tibetan culture as expressed by Dr. Robert Thurman.  I bought the ticket since Iggy is the grandfather of punk and there’s nothing in the horizon that gives the impression that he will play in the New York area anytime soon.  I expect another year will pass.  I’ve been to the Tibet House benefit concerts before, I recall Michael Stipe kissing Mike Mills on the lips after they performed a song together.  Allen Ginsberg reciting his poetry while Philip Glass played solo piano as the poem progressed the music...glistened in our ears.  I’ve seen Patty Smith who closes each show with People Have the Power.  She sang a Lou Reed tribute, Perfect Day and then came back with her band to perform Land which merged into a voluminous chant…Gloria.  Her sways and hand gestures are timeless, calling out to the the sedated crowd in the orchestra...demanding them with her powerful voice to get up!   But before Patty...seeing Iggy perform with New Order was a truly rare experience, as well as a pure shock - the artists on the stage performed three songs, two were Joy Division, Transmission, and Love Will tear Us Apart as well as a New Order song, California Grass which was the first time it was performed live.  Iggy’s baritone voice was strong.  The experience was like watching a black baggy coat phantom rise from the dead...rest in peace Ian Curtis...but if he was alive he'd feel the hairs tingle - Iggy was chilling - so fucking close to perfection.  Dance....dance...the crowd was close to hysterics...as Iggy's jerky dance moves were like split fire lightening.  And I wondered - how old is this guy? 66…How could I complain of these aches?  Was he born with a limp?  Never knew it…some guy behind me said it was part of his shtick.  That is what makes New York great; some guy uses a Yiddish phrase to say Iggy has balls.  The National played as well, performing a song for the first time with a string quartet and accompanied by Sufjan Stevens.  Never heard of him, but he received a good response from the audience.  No crazy stories to share.  Well one.  There was a guy who kept taking pictures and it was a huge distraction since he was a couple of rows ahead and below me.  No one was stopping him.  I thought, where the bleep were the fucking ushers?  I had to keep this event in perspective, using the F Bomb there would not be acceptable, you know this was a benefit concert for the Tibet House after all.  Buddhists don’t go for F bombs at their concerts.  I'm furious and I know from getting caught at Carnegie, oh those red uniformed ushers in Carnegie Hall have a fierce reputation for pouncing on anyone who tries to take a picture.  This guy had free reign, not a care, like he was like a photographer at a hockey game, and he kept taking pictures, almost as if it was a nervous reaction. I imagined what sparks were flying off in his brain; I must take this fuzzy picture, oh…this one as well. Oh, there goes The National.  I need to take more fuzzy pictures.  There goes the stage hand; he looks interesting from up here.  I will take FUZZY picture.  So, I think – heck, maybe they changed policies at the venue?  Maybe, I too can take a picture? A moment I can share with you. Why not?  I pull out my phone and click and…CRACK...BAM….a flashlight is blaring, blinding me and my shocked face.  I hear from the aisle, “No pictures!”  Wait, I’m telling the usher…yeah, I know what you're thinking and you’re right…I’m telling on the photographer in front of me… the shit head who’s clicking away two rows…down there… in front of me, who does not stop!  I took one.  ONLY one fuzzy picture…she tells me, "I didn't see him, I saw only you."  I stress, he is there.  Look...I watch her peering over the heads in the last row and she catches him and tells him to stop.  Yes!  Vindication is alive.  She goes back to her post.  The guy didn’t stop.  She catches him again, and she stormed down to him four more times.  Each time she leaves, he shrugs his shoulders.  Does not give a shit.  I say, yeah, sure, you can try to stop us - you usher in red – try to stop the shit-head photographer… and me too... we go on taking more faint and distant pictures…all images were fuzzy in this historic venue.  For the record, I took two.  Check em out.  I copied the clear close-up from the web.  I saw my brother, Dave afterwards and met Ali and Amanda on the corner of 56th and 7th since they went into the city to see Brian Cranston in All The Way.  Dave drove back to PA.  And afterwards we ate at Carnegie Deli…Amanda and I spit a pastrami sandwich… it was the best pastrami sandwich I ever had, the meat was so lean it disintegrated on my tongue.  We drove home and I was up less than five hours later to begin… a new day of work…


Thank you for reading this   




Sunday, March 9, 2014

We Were Promised Jetpacks concert review and interview Webster Hall 3/8/14

3/9/14 16:32

I just woke up from a nap.  There has to be a good reason for me to take a nap.  Exhaustion or sickness, I’d give into the boredom nap once in a while.   This morning we came home close to 1 AM.  I made a tea and slurped it in our dark bedroom while Ali snored.  I kept an eye on the clock with a strange anticipation sort of like waiting for the New Year’s Eve ball to drop.  I assumed at 1:00 the clocks would magically jump to 2:00.  I am here to tell you - it did not happen.  Not sure when the magic happens, but I put my head down and slept on my side facing my wife, even as she had her back turned towards me.  I knew in a few hours I’d be up and drive Emma to church, dropping her off to watch the kids in the nursery.  I thought I was deacon for the 11:00 which I was not.  In a delirious state of mind I attended church and for the life of me I’m trying to recall what Reverend Diane said in the morning message.  You’re not reading this to hear about my naps or the message anyway.  I understand.  Talk about the concert.  First, we picked up Amanda in the city and spent a couple of hours in the city…Strand Books…OK to the concert.  Well to start, did I tell you about the time when I was kicked out at The Cramps concert when Webster Hall was known as The Ritz?  True story, but for another time…Opening up for We Were Promised Jetpacks were a strong Scottish two piece all-girl band, Honeyblood whose songs varied, sort of power pop with a snarl.  They are Stina Tweeddale (vocals, guitar), Shona McVicar (vocals, drums) who with full blonde hair and fists pumped pounded on the drums, ala Moe Tucker from Velvet Underground.  They don’t have an album out as yet, but come the fall Fat-Cat- Records will release their debut.  I’d like to see them back in the area headlining.  Both musicians were hanging out at the merch table and were very grateful for the recognition as well as the opportunity to open for We Were Promised Jetpacks.  Promoting their live album EREY (live in Philadelphia) At 21:00 We Were Promised Jetpacks were on the stage, opening with a new song for their forthcoming album.  In all their set consisted of five new songs from their forthcoming album.  Quiet Little Voices was next and the set was scattered with the new songs mixed with their staples like Roll Up Your Sleeves, It’s Thunder and Lightning, Ships With Holes Will Sink, Boy in The Back Seat.  From our perspective on the balcony, the crowd swelled from the sides to the back of the venue, including those of us in the safe distance on the balcony.  I don’t recall as many crowd surfers or even an all-out assault of slam dancing at any of the previous shows.  Last night was the seventh time I’ve seen the band.  I saw one kid whip his elbow across the head of someone he crashed into.  There were only a few in the mist of the hits and the pent up male macho aggression, but their antics I have to say - distracted from the performance.  I'm all for slam dancing at a punk show.  I get it.  It's part of the show - at a punk concert.  Even Adam Thompson, singer for WWPJP made a comment the wanna-be punks were stealing some of their thunder.  The surfers lasted till eventually slipping and crash landing onto their bony shoulders and soft heads once the crowd got tired from keeping them up. There were no bodies left on the floor when the show was over.  To their credit, the band played throughout their set - not taking breaks and kicking last night’s performance to a new extreme.  Adam said thank you a few times and how the band looked forward to coming back to Webster Hall after a couple of years.  The band is playing with an additional musician, Stuart McGachan, who is an old friend, he plays keyboards, guitar and backed up on the vocals.  After the show, what else, but we waited to see who from the band would come out. Stuart was at the merch table soon after the show ended, and told Amanda and Emma the rest are still back stage.  The band now has roadies who take down their instruments and equipment which was different from the previous shows; normally it was Mike and Sean and one roadie breaking it down.  Let’s face it, they are getting bigger, more popular and will be playing in larger venues.  So, after waiting for quite a bit, eventually Mike and Sean came out.  I spoke to Mike for a couple of minutes, but only after Ali left me to retrieve her coat from the check.  You see I was not allowed to talk to the guys from the band.  I was told to let Amanda be in her element.   Anyway, Mike said the show was close to a sell-out.  Webster Hall holds 1,400 and they sold 1,200.  Most of this tour has been sell outs…and yet Webster Hall was the biggest venue so they were very pleased with the turnout.  I sensed there was some concern about the ticket sales there since they were a little slow.  They were surprised how empty it was at 20:00 and yet knew most wait for the headliners to come on.  I told him there was a different energy, they came out and kicked ass.  It was true he said, they were not stopping for anything and wanted to give New York everything they had.  Look out for the shows in Austin which they’re going into with a storm.  I asked how long the band has been together, 11-years…has it ever got tired?  Any in- fighting?  No…Mike said they’re all good friends.  And if you were there last night, you witnessed the bond which only friends can have when they are having a great time; the way they looked at one another with smiles and bumped into each other a few times…they were in the element…maybe I will get them to play at my fifty-year old party - which I discussed with Mike and Sean.  I’m not sure Amanda or Ali would allow it to happen.


Thank you for reading this.