9:53 pm – Birmingham, Alabama – I’m back in the hotel room after the show tonight where I opened for Jennifer Daniels at a great little listening room called Moonlight on the Mountain. There was a rather sad turnout for the show so it ended up not being much of an “exposure” gig. Under normal circumstances this would ding my confidence and spiral me down into the always fun: what-the-hell-am-I-doing-this-for-nobody-likes-me syndrome, but tonight I had secret weapon and he’s snoring quietly in the bed across the room.
My ten year old, Dylan, made the trip with me from Atlanta and stood in as my road manager, merch guy, cameraman and all around traveling buddy. His presence changed everything. It’s all so new and exciting to him – the hotel keycards, the turned–down sheets on the bed, sound checks, patch cables, merch tables, the green room, the stage lights. Being able to see all of these details through his eyes is a wonderful gift and reminder of how much I typically miss or completely take for granted.
He handled all the money and transactions at the merch table with a complete seriousness and sense of purpose. In between customers he read the latest saga of Artimus Fowl and sipped a bottled water from the green room. He started the video camera when it was time for me to take the stage and held my hand after I got off, making a point to tell me he thought I did a good job. I think I did play well – maybe even better than that because he was sitting out there in the audience in his tucked in button-down shirt and freshly combed hair.
In the dark of the van on the ride back to the hotel he was all talk about the nice man working the door who gave him a free T-shirt promoting a local festival that happened four years ago. In the morning, our plans are pretty clear - we will find a place to have pancakes. It’s really that simple, living. How do I ever manage to convince myself otherwise?
Monday, October 4, 2010
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