Dawn Part III: Cane and Disable

I had told our usual Sunday morning dog-walking posse but I probably would be too tired to go out with them after my Saturday night adventures. Yet there I was before eight, awake, moderately alert and quite feeling up to it, so we picked a time and place while it was still cool out.  It’s remarkable how a positive emotional burst like the previous night's music can overcome physical fatigue and make you want to get going the next day. So I got to see a couple of friends who had not been out with us in a few weeks, and while Pepper was the only dog among us this time, there are plenty of others out on the trail along with the usual sights of nature:

When we got home, our other car was also already out early. Eleanor had tracked down a pair of jeans in just the right size at a slightly far-flung Kohl’s that she wanted to try on. This was not the same location of theirs I had been to the previous weekend, which did not go nearly as well. I found the shorts I was looking for, but not the droids, and certainly not the customer service. You see, shopping for clothing,  for me, is somewhere between “bamboo shoots under fingernails” and “MAGA rally.”  I took my two pitiful purchases to an empty line conveniently labeled “checkout or returns.”

Cashier, obviously trained at the UK Academy of Retail Passive-aggressiveness: “Are you returning those?“

Me: “No, I’m buying them.“

Her: points <<<<< “Over There.“

Me: points ^^^^^^ “Checkouts and returns.“

Her, FTW: “ they’re changing that sign.“

(And apparently the one behind it that says YES in large friendly letters.)

Ten minutes later behind eight customers Over There, I got out. And waited for the online survey. It would not have gone well, but apparently they sent it to Eleanor. (This would happen later in the day in an even weirder way.) She wound up having a much better experience at the less hoity-toity Kohl’s in Lancaster, both in finding her product and getting in touch with them when she discovered, after we both got home, that she had left her cane in the fitting room. They were very nice about finding it, setting it aside, and making sure that her stupid husband would know exactly where to find it when he came into the store later that day. Which is what we wound up doing, after about two hours of weed-and-small-tree removal in the backyard, on our way to see the Sunday afternoon show at Sportsmen's.

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I'd seen Eilen Jewell before, almost four years to the day before, in 2019. Abilene Bar & Lounge is the Rochester spiritual cousin to Sportsmen's here, and their owner brought Eilen in that summer for the start of a yearlong charity series. She wound up being the only one to perform in support of it, as COVID shut down the venture. Still, we continued to follow her music, and were thrilled to hear one of her older songs on the High Desert soundtrack a few weeks ago. When I saw her most recent album at Record Archive, I found she was playing here, and on a Sunday afternoon- a much more doable event for Eleanor.  I then saw a few days ago that it had sold out, so I didn't think I'd have any trouble offloading the extra ticket if she wasn't able to go. She felt good, though, even after our morning of yardwork, and after picking up the cane at Kohl's, we got there about half an hour before the scheduled start of the 4:00 performance....

and, for her, about an hour too late.  Not a single seat for her, much less a table for us. Fortunately, I had friends who were there and lived close to us who I could ride home with, so wife cane and car all departed before Eilen took the stage-



She worked through about 90 minutes nonstop of mostly her songs, some older, some newer. I found a convenient wall to lean against and made it through the set, as well. I also found my designated Beth and Bill for the evening. If you don't recall the story of the original couple, it dates to me seeing a longago East Meadow friend in a Manhattan jazz club in 2019, about a month after I first saw Eilen:

The seating was at rows of tables, and I had no plus-one for the other side of my real estate, so when a couple arrived to my left (Beth and Bill, I would learn), I asked if they wanted the seat across. Not only did this allow them to sit next to each other, it gave Bill a better view of the stage.  I never met them before, probably never will again, but in 90 minutes of music they became part of a very fun story:



In the months and years since that show, I've looked for other couples at other shows that have been, for me, for that night, my "Beth and Bill." The ones who showed the love of music, of atmosphere, and of each other that I would have been feeling with my own beloved if she'd been able to be there. Sometimes I never even got a name of either one, like the couple at a Nick Lowe Tralf show a few months after "meeting" Beth and Bill (who I never saw or heard from after, or even got a last name for). Some, like two since-married friends at a Lake Street Dive show, I already knew but they ascended into Beth-and-Billiness when I saw them together at a show. At Eilen's concert, though, it was this couple, in front of me the entire time:



They danced. They hugged. They waited patiently at the merch table ahead of me. They inspired something I'd never done with any of my Beths and Bills before: I told them.  In case you saw me taking your picture,.... and proceeded to tell them the story of Beth and Bill's Masacree, with full orchestration and five-part harmony.  Not only did they not mind? They asked for the picture: We were just saying, there aren't any good pictures of the two of us. Now they have one, because I texted it to them. Since they answered back and thanked me,. I know their names; if they see this (I will send the link to this post) and are okay with it, I may share them here, because they're much less common than B&B.  I may never see them again, or with my shitty facial recognition I may walk right past one or both of them, but I know I may a difference in a good way for them, just as they made a memory for me.

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I wasn't even done.

As I'm sure I've mentioned before here, my love of small concert venues includes the chances to interact with the performers during a break or after a show, usually at a merch table, without having to drop hundreds of VIP buckskis on a scheduled "meet and greet."  Sometimes the performers get something out of it, too.

Such as.... after Eilen Jewell finished her set, I brought up her 2-disk live CD to sign. I'd already purchased it and removed the plastic to speed things along. She was doing selfies with other fans, but after she signed my copy, I didn't ask for a photo but showed her one: from almost four years to the day earlier, a Sunday at Abilene when I first and last saw her. She remembered it fondly, but then there was something she DIDN'T remember: I told her I'd heard one of her songs on the soundtrack to the premium TV series High Desert.

She had no idea they'd used it.

I double checked the episode setlist to be sure, and sure enough, there's "Codeine Arms" from her "Sea of Tears" album. (It's not on the live one I bought.) I told her to expect a check from Apple TV. Maybe many checks. She thanked me for the information, and the next day I found her Facebook page and pointed to the exact spot in Episode 4 where it is used. (Just before the 14 minute mark of this episode, right where the drone flies over a yard, if you have Apple TV+.) She got back to me later in the day yesterday: thanks yes. We’re aware of it and got the $!

Could have been 10 bucks, could have been 10 grand. One of the patent attorneys in our Rochester office thought probably closer to the low end, but still- the exposure she gets from it has got to be a + of its own:)

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One odd ending to the experience, relating to the bit about Eleanor getting the survey for my less than five-star Kohl's visit.

Just because she had noplace to sit and I could never have handled food up against their back wall, didn't mean we weren't hungry. Sportsmen's wings are pretty legendary for these parts, so I promised to bring home a double order.  I was right outside the kitchen, so one of the hard-working servers took my to-go order and my credit card, and it was waiting for me as soon as I finished.

When I got home with Da Goods, I mentioned what it cost, because I never got an actual receipt for the order.

Eleanor said, "I know, they texted it to me."

Huh. I then remembered it has happened before- with one of those Squarespace or Toast machines you see a lot in restaurants and on merch tables at concerts.  Few of them actually offer a print option, asking if you want it texted or emailed. I usually say no and just write down the amount to check against the statement, because otherwise I'm just giving them a license to spam me. But at some point, probably at the poetry venue we're going to tonight, I gave Eleanor that card and she did ask them to text or email the receipt; and now those 16 digits are forever connected to her mobile number and/or email address in any payment processing machine tied to that system.

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And after all that, I am more or less caught up to today. Work today has been decent, and poetry and standup comedy await two of the next three nights, when we will, for a change, be our own Beth and Bill:)