My birthday is coming up; Hope's just passed. We used to go out partying for our birthdays. Too old for that now... :D
Sometimes my dreams take me back…
I woke up this morning remembering the days Hope and I went to see different bands on Friday and Saturday nights, and wondering what ever happened to Peter Clay.
One of our favorite bands consisted of friends of ours, Jimmy on lead guitar, Hal with lead vocals and rhythm guitar, Pete on bass guitar, and Charlie on drums.
Charlie could dance. I don’t mean line-dance; I mean Really dance. He could two-step anybody around a dance floor with no apparent effort. The funny thing about Charlie, though, was that the more he drank, the less he could keep time. Not a good thing in the drummer! He sure was fun, though.
Hal had a great voice, and it was obvious he loved to play. He was married to Heather, the most jealous and possessive woman I have ever met. If she called, Hal had to return her call within minutes, even if it meant he had to call for a break in the middle of a set. It was ridiculous, and I wonder if that marriage has lasted. I don’t remember ever seeing Hal laugh.
Jimmy was friendly. He drank little, talked little, played well, and pretty much kept to himself.
And then there was Pete. He seemed to be over 6’ tall, and the cowboy hat made him even taller. He was soft-spoken, and I never understood why he had a mike. He never used it. He would sit with us between sets, elbows on his knees, holding a beer in both hands, comfortable in his own skin. I worked with his daughter, Shawna, for a while, and I enjoyed his company those evenings, between sets, listening to music, just chatting about his kids and grandkids, work, trucks, shows, whatever. The adult conversation I don’t get enough of these days.
People move in and out of our lives all the time; some I miss, some I don’t. I wonder how Pete’s doing these days. He's one of the ones I miss.
