i was at an event recently, and as the occasion warranted, there were quite a few (older) rock musicians in attendance..
I was talking to one, an englishman in his sixties, who had spent decades on the road drumming for various metal bands.
He was quite tipsy. I am not a smoker, but we were having a smoke together and chatting about music. Everyone at the event had gotten quite drunk (well, not me, I don't drink), and at a certain buzz level everyone had to go smoke. I wanted to hang with all the drunk European smokers and young kids.
As we were talking his daughter came over. She was overweight, and wearing a short clingy dress that left nothing to the imagination.
She wanted to know where they were sitting for the event. Well, Dad couldn't find the card. He was shoveling through all the pockets in his well-worn coat, and she offered to help. I offered to hold his beer.
So there I was, standing witness to this rather personal, intimate father/daughter moment.
As she was going through his pockets I noticed she had cut marks all the way up her arms.
I found myself quite moved. Because as they went through his pockets, I saw that he had kept the invitation to the event, the leaflet, some of the other items associated with it, and carefully put them in all his pockets. The event obviously meant a lot to him. It was dear to him.
And his daughter was not impatient or judgmental of her father's rather inebriated state. "Can we try here? Did you look in the back pocket, Dad?"
For all of their uniqueness, they were father and daughter, they were not estranged from each other, they were not impatient with each other, they were not judgmental of each other.
Finally, "Oh here it is, it was with me monies!"
It was the right table, the cool table, and she ran off thrilled.
We went back to chatting about his recent metal tour through Europe, the festivals, the fans...
I don't know exactly why the experience resonates with me so. It was something to do with their acceptance of each other, their love for each other, and their uniqueness, I suppose, but also part of the charm, part of the endearing quality, was to do with their place within the rock pantheon. In other words, in a funny way, they were peasants. And I do not mean this in a derogatory way. People with challenging life situations often are possessed of a greater depth of knowledge about themselves and the nature of man.
It was as if I was in Medieval Europe witnessing an exchange between a peasant farmer and his daughter, both excited to have been invited to the ball.