My escorts

Everybody knows I don't drive, and am always looking for a willing escort to go with me to various concerts and plays in Kansas City.  The oldest granddaughter, Amber, never was in the running as an escort because I somehow didn't think she'd want to be bothered with the kind of stuff I like.  

I realize my love of folk music doesn't mesh with anybody else's idea of good music most of the time.

Recently Amber told me she'd take me to some of my events once in awhile, if nobody else wanted to go.  She's the one who took me to see "A Christmas Carol" last month.  

Many of the events I want to attend have afternoon shows on Saturday and Sunday, which works great for me.  I'd rather be home in the evening, thank you very much.  I mentioned to Amber that I had tickets for Arlo Guthrie, but that I was sure she'd hate him.  I later sent her a video.  Her answer was something like this:  "Well, Grandma, if you can't find anybody else to take you, I guess I could.  But I really don't want to."  

Arlo will be performing on a night when working people would like to go to bed at a decent hour.  In my mind I lined up my occasional chauffeurs and did an "eeney-meeney-miney-mo" and realized no grandchild of mine would want to sit through a couple hours of Arlo, especially if they had to go to work next day.  

So I approached Cliff, who gave me the usual, "No way in HELL...".

I explained to him how willing Amber was to get in the mix with my other taxi drivers, but if I forced her to do this, she might never want to take me anywhere else.  Besides, all my granddaughters have jobs and won't want to be up late on a Thursday night.  

Then I said, "Yes Cliff, you are going to have to take me."   

Fast-forward to this morning:  I was explaining to my dear husband how John Prine got into the music business, how he hobnobbed with all the country stars in the 70's; how he was a postman before he went to Nashville and, after hearing Bob Dylan and, later, Kris Kristofferson, said, "That's where I belong, right between those two" and moved to Music City.

"He doesn't only sing when you see him in person," I said.  "He tells stories about the songs, how they were written and why."

Then I added that I expect Arlo Guthrie, when we see him, will do that too... tell stories.  

"By the way," I told him, "Rachel (our daughter) is the one who took me to see John Prine, so you didn't have to go.  And she did it with no idea who he was, and she had to go to work the next day.  I'm pretty sure she hated it, but I had a great time and will never forget it."

Here's the thing:  I could whine until some grandkid finally agreed to go just to shut me up, but I don't want to "burn out" the people who are willing to haul me to concerts.  And my family members are the only people brave enough to accompany me out in public, knowing I'll likely embarrass them in one way or another.  

Cliff is going to have to take this one for the team.  

Next time Green Day is in town, some of my volunteer taxi drivers may get their reward.  It had better not be this year, though, because I have a lot of pricey adventures planned for 2017.  So far it looks like Green Day will be out of the country a lot, so perhaps it will all work out.