I keep going back to this one night. The place was packed. Food everywhere. Dad saw another friend every time his head turned. A deep contrast to our first visit when Dad asked, Shea, do you know where you're going?
You know the story. He thought I was taking him to some wild hooligan shindig where guns would be loaded and people shooting in the air. He was going for my protection after I told him I didn't need it. Though I must admit I wasn't so sure.
I mean. It was a Saturday night and it was off in the woods and people had been less than forthcoming on telling me how to get there or when they had the party. This was one of those things that Google failed to mention.
To be honest with you I don't know if I had to find it because it was so hard to find or because it was music. Right now I have to admit to both.
The first time I saw that place lit up the Black Keys were playing Junior Kimbrough. When I stood outside that building with those lights and those people and a world which allowed me to peek inside and photograph it I felt as close as I had felt since being at The Rendezvous meeting Little Joe Ayers.
Today I am grateful to find the commonality of love in music.