Photo 5: Behind the Scenes

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Meet The Hi Fi Bags!

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Now, I'm no J.D. Salinger (or even the guy who liberally ripped off "Catcher in the Rye" with "Igby Goes Down"), but it occurred to me that I am in danger of becoming reclusive in these here internet bloggy parts (as well as in life, generally). So, I had better get on with things, starting here. My Granny, Jean Shields, died on May 23rd and I just can't adequately express how much she meant to me and most people who knew her. She was a remarkable woman more full of life than anyone I ever knew. It is hard to even talk about any of this stuff without coming across as a Hallmark card. Put it this way: she once made Ernest Hemingway blush at a dinner party, had a round blue velvet bed, and a leopard skin couch which sat underneath an African spear and masks hung on the wall. Granny was more than stories and style. She was completely devoted to her family and cared for the sick and old until it made *her* sick and old. She died before her time and I am angry, sad and guilty about that all at the same time. I still believe that Granny lived life on her own terms which is more than most people can say. This has hit me really, really hard and I am trying not to her death completely overwhelm me. I miss her terribly. You know you are in serious trouble when coffee commericals make you weepy and you contemplate growing a beard for the rest of your life. ZZ me? No! I am too old to go through an intensive period moaning along to The Smith's, or wearing black turtlenecks and memorizing Camus, either. Been there, done that (although, I understand Dusty Hill of ZZ Top is a big fan of "Meat is Murder" and lived in Berlin for a few years in 1977, so nothing is impossible). In the spirit of Granny, I will get on with the business of living now. If I could have 1/50th of the impact on someone I love that Granny had on me, that is surely worth carrying on, isn't it? I think it is. See you soon.

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