Richie

I love hearing my mother tell stories about some of the experiences she had when she "was my age." Over the years, comparing her past to my present, has become a silly game that I play while daydreaming. It goes something like this: When my mom was my age, she - watched the Beatles perform at Shea Stadium. When my mom was my age, she - babysat Van Morrison's kids. When my mom was my age, she - met my dad while walking her dog. Today, however, as my 30th birthday looms on the next calender page, the novelty of the game has worn off. When my mom was my age, she - changed my diapers ???  Well, THAT doesn't sound like very much fun. But thanks for having me Mom.   She turned 60 a few weeks ago. On the morning of her birthday we took a two-hour boat tour off the coast of northeastern Florida and watched wild horses graze on the beaches of Cumberland Island. I should probably be a truly stellar daughter and type something special about our recent trip together...but instead, I am going to re-type (a 2nd edition if you will) something I wrote a few years ago. Its the story of an experience Mom & I shared with a musician. Now come, and step into a storytelling-time-warp with me...

Newmarket, NH

June 2008

I met Richie Havens a week ago. 

For those of you unfamiliar with his music; think of the opening act from Woodstock 69' ("Freedom! Freedom!). Last week's show meant a lot to me because I was raised on Havens' music, along with the songs of many other folkies from his generation. The first live show I vaguely remember seeing was Arlo Guthrie. I was 4-ish and sat on my mom's lap.

My mother is somewhat of a reformed Hippie. She was one of the 500,000+ attendees of the epic festival in 69'. Today it takes her a few cocktails to cough up Woodstock stories at dinner parties with my friends (but I'm certain she revels in the nostalgia). When I was a kid she would rent the documentary made of the spectacle and scrutinize the TV screen searching for herself. I've tried to make her confess to the drug induced naked mud frolicking, but she consistently denies such behavior. 

As a child I would sometimes snoop through Mom's old keepsake boxes. In one of them, I found a red, grease spotted dinner napkin autographed by Richie Havens. She would tell me about all of the times she'd "almost" met the musician throughout the years. Eventually, a friend of hers bumped into Havens on a NYC sidewalk and had the napkin autographed to her.

When I moved into the New Hampshire apartment a month ago, I discovered the Stone Church, a funky nonprofit coffee-house-sized venue literally steps away from my place. While scrolling through their schedule of summer shows online, not only did I see a list of local performers, but I was surprised to find many well known artists too, including: Richie Havens. Naturally, I called my mum and purchased tickets.

The show was euphoric...one to keep on tap in the memory lobe(s) of my brain. It was mesmerizing to witness Havens play guitar with hands the size of a basketball player's. He was a captivating storyteller and it was surreal to see him perform in such an intimate setting. Because of its microscopic square footage, one of the supreme benefits of seeing a performance at the Stone Church is the opportunity to meet the artists after the show. Mom brought along one of Havens' LPs just in case the occasion for a signature should arise. After patiently waiting for over thirty years, my mother finally met Richie Havens! She whispered in his ear that she saw him at Woodstock and he chuckled. She told him that she brought her daughter this time. I shook his HUGE hand and got an autograph too. I assumed he would scribble on my concert poster and promptly move on to the next fan. I was a tad starstruck when he initiated a conversation. What does one say to a legendary musician? I said: 

"I'm here with my mom."   

Photo by: Mom's best friend, MaryLou Smith, aka Mom#2