Look, I’m going out of town this weekend and I have a lot of writing to get done before I go, so… uh….
So you’re trying to tell me you don’t have time to talk with me today.
Sort of. Yeah. I hope you don’t mind.
Of course not, Mr. Cope. I understand. I’m a writer, too. I know what it’s like. I’ll just go interview someone else today. Maybe I’ll go see what, oh… I don’t know… maybe Mayor Bieter has to say. Or maybe Coach Harsin.
That’s a good idea. I’m sure people would rather hear what the coach has to say about things than me, anyway.
Yes, that’s probably true. He’s the coach, after all. And you’re just… uh….
Yup. I’m just plain little ol’ me. Nevertheless, though, I have a lot to get done, so, uh… can I walk you out?
Oh, no, no. Don’t get up. I know where the door is. So… er… maybe I’ll see you next week?
Yup. Maybe next week.
So… call me "Mister Nosy"… but you mind if I ask where you’re going?
Uuuuuuh, well I guess not. We’re going down to Nevada.
Doing a little gambling, huh?
Yup. A little gambling. That’s right.
And you’re trying to get everything done before you go.
Yup. Trying to get everything done before we go. That’s right.
Your blogs and all.
Yup. My blogs and all.
So you’re probably scrambling to get today’s blog done, I imagine.
Um, well… actually, it’s Monday’s blog I’m most worried about. I haven’t even got a topic yet for that one. But I think I have today’s blog under control. I’m just going to stick a music video on with a few words about it, and wah-lah… I’m done. At least, if I get the time to finish it up. You know… like when I’m alone.
Oh sure. You bet. I’m outa here. I know how hard it is to write when someone is gabbing away in your ear, right? Just out of curiosity, though… what’s the video?
It’s Cannonball Adderley and his brother performing “Jive Samba” from back in ’63. One of my all-time favorites.
So this Cannonball guy and his brother are pretty good singers, huh?
Nope. They’re not singers at all. Cannonball played alto sax and Nat was a trumpet guy. It’s an instrumental.
Nope. No singers.
Nope. No lyrics.
And you say “was?”… like they don’t play anymore?
Nope. Cannonball died in ’75. Nat in 2000. In fact, I’d bought tickets to go see them in a club in Dayton, Ohio, but the week before they were supposed to come, I heard the news that a stroke had killed Cannonball. Crying shame. He was only 47. Man, he was one of the best.
Mr. Cope, do you have any favorite musicians who aren’t dead?
Um… well… let me see here. I haven’t ever really thought about that, but I’m sure there’s someone I like who isn’t… uh… dead. But I’ll have to get back to you on that, since nothing’s coming to me at the moment.
Maybe that’s what you could write about for your blog on Monday.
You know… how pitiful it is when a person’s favorite things… his favorite artists and music and television shows and stuff like that… all pass on before he does, and eventually, he’s left with nothing fresh, nothing new, left only to wallow in the fading echoes of fading names and fading memories, listening to 50-year old music and watching endless reruns of
The Andy Griffith Show and dusting off old books that excited him back when he had all his life to look forward to instead of… you know.
Uh, yeah. That’s certainly a thought. I’m sure it would be almost as fun to write as it would be to read.
Well, I’d better go now and let you get to it.
Uh-huh. I’d better get to it. That’s right.
Say, you don’t happen to have the coach’s number, do you?
No. No, I don’t believe I do.
OK, then. I’m outa here. Have a good time down in Nevada, and I’ll be seeing you next week, huh? And hey, you don’t have to give me credit for that Monday blog idea.
OK. I won’t.