About your mother and music...

[ChicoHarris]

Most I think would have something that comes to mind when we think of our mother and music.

Let's see some stories, please.

Here's mine:


I’m Sorry Ray Charles Couldn’t See Her
Oxford Town #45 June 23, 1994

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE PROBLEMS every guy, or-so-inclined gal, should have. This Older Blonde Woman called me up from Tupelo and asked me to come over there that night and go to the Ray Charles show with her.
A Gorgeous Older Blonde Woman, at that.
As my roommate Punjab would say, "woooo-hoohoohoo!!"
Now, an older (read: wise-in-the-ways-of-our-world) gorgeous blonde woman doesn't call me up every day and ask me to come to Tupelo and see the Ray Charles show with her. As a matter of fact, I don't believe I can recall such an event ever taking place, and I've had some wonderful events: Seeing The Clash in a bar in New Orleans in 1982, the birth of my dog, Wayne, in 1984, the Rebels' victory over Alabama in Tuscaloosa in 1988 and watching, at Harry's Bar in Paris, President Clinton clinch victory in 1992.
But a GOBW has never...et cetera, et cetera.
Now, normally, there would not be a problem. I like Ray Charles an extreme amount, and my mother even gave me my middle name, Ray, after him, and I've never had anything against GOBWs, even if they happen to be Republicans.
But the fact that it was in Tupelo, well... Maybe we could go to Johnnies Drive Inn for some Johnnieburgers, for that would certainly help ease the sting of being in Tupelo and not Oxford. But the Tupelo venue wasn't even the problem.
Friday had just been one of those huge-problem days.
We had a little party Thursday night, celebrating the completion of Oxford Town #44. Come break of day Friday, I had such a hangover I dreaded waking up.
When I did, I had this foggy recollection of dancing (dare I call it that) the night before to George Michael and there I was, going to have to live with myself all day. At about 6:50 in the a.m., the GOBW called and asked me to go with her to the Ray Charles show. I wanted to, but I felt terrible and it was in Tupelo. Later, a Harvest Cafe lunch brought me pretty much back to life. By that time, she had called back twice about the Ray Charles show.
What to do? If I played the fool and didn't go with this gorgeous older blonde woman, would she ever call again? Probably. But I did want to see Ray Charles this time, even if Soul Pocket, who has such a great new CD out, was playing at Proud Larry's.
Later on that afternoon, after my landlord dropped by to say he wanted to move into my house August 1 (so, if anyone knows of a nice, older, available pocket of funk, let me know. 236-4264), I felt no better. Plus, the GOBW had called eight times asking me to go.
Then I realized there was really, of course, no question, no matter how terrible the day had been.
After all, my mother had named me after Ray Charles.
So, the next time the GOBW called, I said:
“Sure, Mother, I’d love to go.”