Winging It

I don’t miss the regular drives into Connecticut which is to traffic what the seventh level of hell must look like. I do, however, significantly miss the reasons which led to those regular drives – picking up my daughter and Wingman when they traveled home from NYC. The trips are non-existent now with their move to California and I miss the necessity of travel. This was mollified to a great extent yesterday when my wife and I travelled down to Hartford to link up with Wingman whose band was passing through the insurance capitol of the world.

Outside the Theater Yesterday with Wingman

He’s been all over the country over the last few weeks, including presenting an award at some sort of rock awards show in Cleveland earlier in the week. The band has a full size bus converted to a mobile home with berths which they use to travel between tour dates overnight. After a Friday night show in New York they continued north and were parked outside the theater in Hartford. We arrived a little after noon with no answer to our repeated texts. I approached the bus and asked if this was the correct band’s bus. The driver said yes but they had left Wingman in NYC Friday night. I was reaching for my phone to confirm this major problem when he relented and said he was screwing with me.

Wingman Kidnapped by These Two

He escorted us into the bus where we sat down with the group’s lead singer and drummer who were the only two up and moving at that point. It’s a true commentary on the passage of time since we first met this fascinating group of musicians that the conversations were now about recently arrived children and homesteads instead of the rock and roll life. Wingman blearily stumbled out of the berthing area after a bit and was properly chagrined.

Great Chow!

It was so good seeing him again, it felt like it had been entirely too long since we’d last had him around. We kidnapped him and set out in search of a place to have lunch. Hartford like many large New England cities pretty much shuts down during non-business days but we did luck into place called Bear’s Smokehouse. Wingman was excited about the location while I harbored trepidations about my wife’s reactions to smoke barbecue. Wingman in his customary role lived up to his appelation – some of the best dead animal flesh I’ve had in a long time. If you’re ever in Hartford check out the brisket – from another world. 

Wingman was so impressed with the fare that he secured a serious amount of takeout for the rest of the band.  It’s tough when you live in a bus and don’t have personal transport, especially given the neighborhood the theater was located in. When we got back to the theater and their well received meals we made a video call to the Cali-Daughter so she could participate in the all too short reunion. Wingman then showed us around the theater and my wife almost suffered a heart attack when the drummer started his sound check at full volume when her back was turned. She honestly thought the building was falling down on us. I think our rock and roll credentials took a serious hit.

Wife and Wingman Shortly Before the Building Fell on her

We reluctantly took our leave so Wingman could do his own sound check and continue his interrupted sleep pattern prior to the late night show and subsequent trip for a show in Portland, Maine today. The trip back to the People’s Republic of Massachusetts was a little forlorn. My wife and I discussed how much Wingman has become an integral part of the family. It was every bit as tough saying goodbye to him as it is to for either our son or daughter, so cool to have another son after all these years.

Happy Birthday Big Guy!!!!!!

Speaking of sons, today is his official birthday, even though we celebrated it a couple weeks ago. That’s been his MO since his earliest days – multiple birthday celebrations. I’m so proud of the man he’s become and while we can’t spend today with him, he will be heading up to Portland to spend the day with Wingman, so my two sons will spend the day together. The only thing missing is being with them but as stated above, my rock and roll qualifications are not what they used to be.

Wife Sampling Some of Ronnie's Fare

We drove by the old house in Charlton on our way home so we could drop off a ceiling fan control that had been inadvertently packed up in our move. We ran into one of our neighbors with my wife studiously avoiding looking at the old homestead. I was not similarly affected. My wife’s old gardens were overgrown but there was ample evidence of young kids at play including several trees lashed together with some sort of multi-colored plastic bindings. It made me feel good that the old house was fulfilling its well-deserved destiny with a big family. In tribute to the ABFA we stopped by Ronnie’s on our way out to score some ice cream (thank you ABFA).

Wife and Fellow Mafioso Last Evening

We planned a routine night at home but the next door Mafioso had other plans. We were drawn into a barbecue and ensuing consumption of adult beverages. We set up shop on their back deck as my neighbor launched a gallant fight against the descending mosquitos. It was so good to have friends to hang around with after having had to say goodbye to one of our kids earlier in the day. Since Panamanians were involved dancing eventually arose, the mosquitos never stood a chance.

Bring on the Dancing Girls!

We ended the night watching the Opening Ceremonies for the Special Olympics in Los Angeles. My wife’s cousin, she of the legendary laugh, is a coach for the Panamanian contingent and we were hoping to catch a glimpse of her during the athlete’s march into the stadium. We may or may not have but it was cool to see all the pomp and circumstance with the obvious cascades of love extended to the extraordinary athletes who’ve overcome so much in their lives.

The Panamanian Marching In - Laughing Cousin Somewhere in There