Groupies

Last Saturday, with Timmie’s in hand - 5 small coffees and 40 timbits ($14.03 Vicki Kaminski, if you’re reading this) - I dropped in to see Paul for my weekly visit.  I normally drop by on Thursday’s but had to wait until the weekend. I’m glad I did.

Saturday at Hoyles-Escasoni is a day when more families come to visit loved ones and there were plenty of visitors there last weekend. Some I had met before; others for the first time. It was good putting a family with a face, so to speak. Many knew who I was which was kind of nice. “Oh, you’re Paul’s brother. The guy with the timbits.” Guilty as charged.

The atmosphere was light and most of the residents and staff seemed to be in a good mood. The ladies for whom I brought coffee were tinkled pink. (Truth be told, I’m not sure if I do it more for them or for me.) As usual, Paul and I played and sang tunes from my phone. Clapton is always first.

“Who do you want to hear?”

“Eric Clapton!"

“No shit.”

It’s usually followed by some Zeppelin and Tull. Lately I’ve been playing songs and asking Paul who it is. He’s normally gets it right and even knows the lyrics. Pretty cool actually now that I think about it.

But this visit I brought my harmonica. Now, to say I “play” is a stretch. It makes noise. Some actually discernable, but mostly hit and miss. This explains the random blues riffs and trains I do. Always trains. When I mess up, which is always, I do something bluesy or a train which always seem to work. Like I know what I’m doing. Riiiiight. Let’s go with that. Needless to say, Neil Young is not shitting his pants.

Anyway, the ladies with said coffee hear this and come over – all giddy and pumped on caffeine.

“Play Harry Hibbs. Do you know Harry Hibbs?”

“Not personally, no.”

Paul chimes in, “Play some f%#@ing Harry Hibbs!”

Le sigh.

There’s not a chance in hell I’m doing Between Two Trees (or anything thing Harry Hibbs) on harmonica. But as luck would have it, depending on your point of view, I know the chorus and some verses of Black Velvet Band. Mom used to sing it when we were young – usually on Sundays when she was overcooking the pot roast.  We used to call it the rubber roast. “Is it really supposed to bounce when you drop it Jean?”

Anyway, I tell them I can’t play Harry Hibbs but I can sing one of his songs. All this time, some guy, who’s visiting a relative, is giving me this are-you-really-going-to-do-this kind of look. He can barely keep from laughing. To hell with it and I started in: ”Her eyes they shone like the diamonds…”

Thank-you. Thank-you very much. I’ll be here next week. Don’t forget to tip the staff and don’t try the specials.

Turns out the girls knew the song and Paul started singing too. When we got stuck, we just repeated the verses over again. We mangled a few more songs, mostly Irish-Newfoundland stuff, but it was a blast.  And YouTube is your friend here people. Trust me on this one.

When I was leaving one of the nurses said I now had a fan club. Fan club? You mean groupies.  I suppose they’re not technically groupies if you have to bribe them with food and drink. But I can always dream….and I am starting guitar lessons soon. Regardless, it was a great day.