Strawberry Woman with Your Back to Me
I've been meaning to tell the story for a week now. Let's just say it's been a busy week. I may miss details because I am wrecked.
Last Friday, a whole passel of us went to the Orion Amphitheater in Huntsville to see what we've informally dubbed "Shoalsfest Lite" with Billy Allen and the Pollies, Margo Price, and Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit.
We all met well before the show to grab food at the food trucks and socialize. I gotta say, a brisket taco is a thing of beauty. I sampled what I think was a beignet with almond extract in the batter. Don't quote me on that. I had a couple drinks and talked about losing 200 pounds. Most folks got the joke.
I had my usual spot on the rail, Sadler-side. It was the perfect spot. I could see everything. Billy Allen never fails to blow me away. And people who didn't know him before walked away shaking their heads and adding him to their playlists. Just a voice you cannot believe. And an energy. And something I just cannot put my finger on. The thing.
Miss Margo was the show she always is. She is a tiny firecracker, that one. With her ballgowns and bare feet and her wardrobe changes and all that personality she slathers all over the stage, I just love her.
The band had barely taken the stage when the friend that I came with messaged me to say that she had passed out. She was in medical. So I darted out to go find her. I did. She hadn't had any water all day, she was overheated, and she takes a blood pressure medication. Not a good combination, looks like.
They were hooking her up to IV fluids and they had her under control, so I went back to my spot. I checked on her one more time later. Then I got a text asking if I could go get her a shirt from merch because she had ruined hers. We were neck-deep in the set and I hated to leave.
As I walked to the merch table, I walked past this beautiful bar. Desert pink insets with gorgeous bottles all underlit and glowing. It was gorgeous. I told myself I'd stop back by there on my way back to medical.
The shirt she wanted was sold out, so I got her the next best thing. A front pocket that said "MILF" and the back said "Mushrooms I'd Like to Forage." That's funny, I don't care who you are.
I headed back and almost walked by the bar again, but I stopped. It was a tequila bar. That is just fate. So I bellied up to get a paloma and realized as I waited in line that they were playing "Strawberry Woman." I probably groaned out loud at missing it. I swayed a little and sang the last few lines to myself because it is a kind of great song.
As I stepped up to order, an older gentleman stepped up as well. He said he saw me dancing to the song and asked if I liked it. I said that I did and that my friends all sent it to me and said it reminded them of me. I was flattered. Imperfect and little bit wild, but being possessed of a certain something. I asked him if he liked the song and he said "Well, he's my son, so..." Knock my overstimulated and slightly tipsy ass over with a feather. I'd have been entirely incredulous if I hadn't seen photos on social media and recognized a distinctive birth mark under his right eye.
I told him that I'd been following the band for about a decade and that I loved "Outfit" because my dad was a house painter and he didn't say much either. And he said "Yeah, I did that for a while" and told me that was just some advice he'd given Jason when he was younger and that he didn't think he'd heard any of it. I assured him that we hear it, we just sometimes don't listen to it.
I mentioned that I started a page and bragged about having kicked Uncle Jim out for being a twit. He was amused. We walked back towards the show and he said that if he were thirty years younger, he'd have hit on me. Thirty years was probably too many years by my math. In my state, I did ask him if I reminded him of Angelia. I cannot help myself and the legend says he was not nice to her. Listen, I've been that redheaded teen mom.
I asked him for a photo and he was thrilled. I suspect Amanda must have had a talk with him because he perched his hand on my shoulder, barely touching. Very respectful.
I made it back to my friend and gave her the shirt and told her the story. I guess that's just proof that every small disaster has a silver lining.
I got to meet the man "Outfit" was written about. For a moment, I got to be closer to my own father than I have been in over twenty years. It was truly a blessing to my soul.

Great story well told. Great photo too. Wondering who Angelia is.
ReplyDeleteAh, wasn't at all hard figure out.
DeleteAngelia is Jason's mom. She's a redhead too.
ReplyDelete