A blues mitzva

Lately, I've been riding the bus into different parts of town running errands and getting back in touch with my bus rider roots. This morning a cruise ship docked in town so, not only did each segment of my voyages have its own unique flavor, each one was spiced by the addition of curious outsiders surrounded by volunteer tour-guides of every race, age, and degree of sobriety helping (or hindering) them on the way to their destinations. This got me thinking about bus adventures I might not have told since I returned to Alaska. This one is especially for Anthea Rutherford but I can think of many others who will appreciate it.

While house and animal sitting for sister number one, I was returning home from a doctor's appointment via the store. The young man in the seat behind me was telling a friend on the phone about a concert he had seen over the weekend. Since I can't afford to go out, I never know whose been in town, but the kid's enthusiasm really drew me in.

"They had this guy with them--I wish I could remember his name--he had white hair and he was really pale, like an albino. When they started to jam, he was the most incredible guitarist I've ever heard."

He went on like this for several blocks. When he finally hung up, we were almost at my stop. U spun around in my seat: "That guy you heard, was he 'like an albino' or was he really an albino?"

"I think he was really an albino."

"Edgar Winter. His name is Edgar Winter." We were almost at my stop and I pulled the signal cord. "He has a brother named Johnny Winter, but he's been too sick to tour lately. I'm sure it was Edgar."

The bus came to a stop. As I headed for the door, I walked past him and said, "go to YouTube and look up 'Frankenstein'."

He was typing as I went out the door.

I think that counts as a blues mitzva.

Note: Johnny Winter died a few weeks after that, but Edgar is still boogieing on.