Thank you Kathy. I feel sort of like I’m intruding when I suddenly remember a “road” story and want to post it, because I’m not a regular here any more. I don’t have the time these days to do much freeping. Three churches and a two year old to keep, I’m short on time. One more year with the two year old and she should be going to pre-school.
I have a lot of memories of our days traveling this country from coast to coast playing mostly military base clubs. Some funny things happened along the way. Paratroopers jumping off the second floor balcony after chug-a-lugging Louisiana Hot Sauce and yelling Geronimo, or the British AF Squad at the little North Truro Radar Station on Cape Cod honoring the members of the band with Ouzo. Hubby declined because he is a dry acoholic. They told him he would drink it or wear it. He drank it. Thank God it didn’t break his determination to stay dry. Oh, and at that same combined officer’s club, somebody killed the lights and when they were turned back on, a couple of the boys in the band were missing a hat. Ah, good times. We loved playing for the military. Jack used to say he loved them because you didn’t have to worry about somebody throwing a beer bottle through your guitar, and the checks don’t bounce. I loved them because of all the sweet young boys and girls who loved the music.
Oh, I meant to say the paratroopers jumping was at Ft McCoy, Wis.
Jack used to say he loved them because you didn’t have to worry about somebody throwing a beer bottle through your guitar, and the checks don’t bounce.
Too funny!