Do we really need shoes filled?

One of the tracks on Buddy Guy's most recent album (I won't say the name because the title track is the least-best song on the record, especially when sung monotone by one's boyfriend) is a Billy Joel "We Didn't Start the Fire"-esque rundown of the names who lived, breathed and sang the blues called "Who's Gonna Fill Those Shoes?"

It runs the gamut from Muddy Waters to Stevie Ray Vaughan and back again. And Sunday night at the legendary Beacon Theater in New York City, with Buddy Guy and B.B. teaming up for a mini-tour, it was proved that said loafers can NOT be filled. I proclaim that despite the presence of 9-year-old wunderkind Quinn Sullivan, who appears on the album track too.

Filling the shoes ain't as easy as picking up a guitar and hitting notes that adults three or four times your age would give their eye teeth to play. Are you gonna step into the crowd and wind your way around until you find the one person you want to knock out with your solo and then keep playing in the person's face until you get that reaction you want, kid? I saw Buddy do that to my brother about 15 years ago in Tampa ... and I didn't see it happen but I know it did out of my view on the lower level of the Beacon with some other convert at this show.

Are you gonna come out on the stage and tell us a story you have told a hundred times before and make everyone laugh like it's brand new? 'Cause B.B. can tell about women calling him "Bay" and telling him he's so cute, leading him to wonder why they didn't decades ago. After hearing a vigorous hoot from the audience, can you tell a tale about needing to run for your life when you used to hear that kind of noise as a youngster in the South? I'm guessing no.

And for all the kid's great notes, he can not match whatever magic it is that is B.B. ability to put finger to string and play one note that'll knock you into the middle of next week. The 83-year-old can also sear some soul in song, which is what he does more of during the course of the set.

But I focus on the oldest-looking 9-year-old I ever saw because so much of the show did. To be fair, Quinn self-assuredly produced some striking blues notes of the shuffle and slow blues variety and boasted an impressive one-handed playing maneuver. (OK, it was impressive the first three times and less so the last 12).

Since Buddy's set was first, he wasn't any sheets to the wind when he hit the stage and it made for a crisp set. He looked a little clinical with his medical scrubs-reminiscent attire and a closely cropped head, instead of the wild mane and polka-dotted apparel we've often seen him in.

The legendary Beacon's ability to sustain a note seemed to tickle Buddy, and he played -- and sang -- many of his notes in the softest way possible, keeping everyone straining on the edge of their respective seats to hear them. But he still made room for some lowdown dirty blues, namely "Hoochie Coochie Man" -- complete with "I didn't write it" asides amidst some of the more controversial lyrics of the song.

As Liam, 'ark and I have all seen B.B. a few times in recent years, it gave us the impetus for an off-the-cuff drinking game. Drink if B.B. says he's 83. Drink if he calls himself "Bay." Drink if he puts his head in his hand embarrassedly. Will definitely have to expand on that for the next show. Maybe we and others can count up the points and see how each show measures up.

The other thing distracting us at the show was akin to the "Seinfeld" episode in which Jerry puts a Pez dispenser on Elaine's leg at a concert recital and she cracks up. Earlier in the week I saw a Letterman show in which wacky intern Lyle -- who surprisingly showed up as patient of the week on House last week too and acquitted himself (literally) very well -- flashed Dave the peace sign upon the departure. He accented that by bending the two peace fingers and uttering a raspberry. It sounds like nothing, but I was cracking up like Elaine, esp. with the trekkie, Fonzie and other variations we concocted.

To our surprise, "Bay" did much the same set as usual, save for a new addition -- a well-received joke about not being like Michael Phelps because he doesn't smoke -- and ... for the first time on the mini-tour, the mutual admiration society of B.B. and Buddy playing together. Buddy quickly got underfoot, undercutting B.B.'s commentary with sly guitar lines and smiles. Quinn Sullivan reappeared when Buddy did and the looks passing between the two veterans' faces were almost as priceless as the kid's licks themselves.

There were more guests on hand at the Beacon as well. Ron Wood was introduced, although it might have been past the Rolling Stone's bedtime at the point that happened since he was no long around to accept the crowd's adulation, but the Sopranos' Federico Castelluccio (Furio) was and he appropriately got something of a furious reaction from the partisan Sopranos' crowd.

But again, none of these great extras could match B.B.'s notes on "Key to the Highway" or "The Thrill Is Gone." The thrill is anything BUT gone! And as long as it is -- make that the plural "they are" -- around, you can bet I'll be doing my best to see them.

Love, New Jersey style

We got some heavy-duty music names coming up in the next few weeks -- B.B. King, Buddy Guy, Van Morrison and Fleetwood Mac, to name but a few. But this weekend was about death-defying hockey, Valentine's Day and someone's birthday.

Because 'ark had to work his route before coming up, we got a solid half-hour in on Valentine's Day. Not that he didn't make the most of it, with four different chocolates and two other candy treats bound to make my jeans expand another size and the gelatinous XOs and hearts that wound up attached to the bathroom mirror.

That left about 10 minutes before the birthday presents started to roll out. A great-smelling cinnamon and pecan candle. Mmmmmm. And the piece de resistance, the digital photo frame that I expected for the holidays, didn't get and promptly forgot about ... well, that turned out to be my birthday present. 'Ark says since I change my posters around in the living room so much, this would be a much more efficient way of mood changing. Of course, now I'll have to load and reload THAT according to my mood.

Last year on my birthday, I went to the Devils game against the Thrashers. We lost in the shootout, but my fave players Patrik Elias and Jamie Langenbrunner did score and I remember trying to take something out of that. Left me ill-prepared for this year's contest that's for sure.

First we had to get in. Now we weren't sure where we'd end up this weekend due to other considerations, so we didn't have tickets for the game. It was a Sunday matinee AND free hats were being given away. That made for a hot ticket. But we expected the Park luck to emerge, so we went off to the very crowded, but very tasty Tops Diner (yes, I had a piece of the railing and it was just delicious.)

When we got to the arena, the same lady who gave me an adult-sized bangeroo (that's headache in Excedrin speak) a couple weeks ago told us her in high piercing voice that the only availables were $115 each. We thought we could do better, so we strolled outside and got $250 club seats for less than what the Rock's availables were. Of course we were stuffed, so the usual appeal of John's Pizza and sushi were lost.


We wound up 21 rows in back of the bench. If you look at the photo atop the blog, you can see Brian ("Drew" to me and sis) Rolston's jersey and Mike Rupp's fat head near the ice. And remember, objects are a lot closer than they may appear.

So it's about 30 seconds into the game and ... scoooooore! Brian Gionta converts on Elias' nifty little pass. Gionta scoring first at a game attended by a Schector, what a surprise. (That's obviously the end of that happening since I just voiced it in a public forum.)

On Friday, Liam was at the "pitchers' duel" between the two best teams in the Eastern Conference. His Devils beat his Bruins, 1-0. It wasn't that kind of game Sunday. So the Devils have scored ... the Sharks score back ... the Devils score again ... the Sharks score back ... the Devils score again ... the Sharks score back ... the refs start screwing us ... the Sharks take the lead. It's now the third period and fear for birthday sanity is starting to creep in.


Well, Elias of course had something to say about that. It took a 5-on-3, but we got our game-tying goal. Then as last year, Langenbrunner also deposited one in the net. ... And then the refs twirled their moustaches and the Sharks got back even.

Now the minutes are getting fewer and pretty much everyone crowd needs those heart paddles instead of the cheapo hats that we got, but we're expecting the best from Team Heart.

And we get it, cause we get a power play and David Clarkson is able to get a tip on Drew's massive shot and Nabokov is powerless to stop it (Cue The Police! "Just like the ... old man ... in that book by Nabokov"). And the arena is up for grabs!! Now it's just minutes left and ... the refs give the Sharks ANOTHER power play. Not only that, at some point during that, San Jose will pull their goalie and have their six on our four.

But the Devils battle, get some long clears and the house is going nuts. Behind me I hear "This is like playoff hockey!" Here's hoping it will be, 'cause the Devils hold on and win the damn thing!

'Ark's not used to it ... he needs to be scraped off the floor. And I've got to admit even I haven't seen a game like that since double-OT in the playoffs a couple years ago. We walk off in the literal sunset to head home to the juicy steaks that couldn't be finished during lunch. And Coke! (I've been resigned to Pepsi at both the arena and diner.) I might have to add "Happy" back to "Birthday" -- of course Ritu, Gina and Mark might be the only ones who get that.

The Annexation Proclamation

There are still three weeks until the Park concert season gets underway, so what are our protagonists supposed to do? (Beyond referring to themselves in the pretentious third person?) Movie (check), dinner (check please) and (thanks to a well-placed sign in the New York City subway system and a slight bet to go if something wanted could not be obtained at Virgin Records) the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Annex.
I had heard about the Annex a few times, 'ark had brought it up once, but it just sort of jumped out of mind as quickly as it vaulted in. But despite some-freezing temperatures and a broken-down L train, Sunday seemed to be the day to go.

We knew we were in the right place pretty quickly after the free coat check. You step inside a room to await the next film presentation, and on the walls are large metal tiles with different rock & roll icons' autographs under the year of their induction. The cool part is when their song plays, their respective tile or -- in the case of group -- tiles illuminate. So you chase those around for a while and then the snippets of music get shorter and it builds to a crescendo (see above) as the lights speed up and the music swells and ... a bored guy opens the door to the other room.

We sat on the stools in the last row so we could see the screens all around the perimeter of the floor. I don't think one of the three blondes sitting dead center in the front row in front of us liked it too much when I said "down in front!" when she got up to adjust her ... whatever it was.

The presentation starts with crisp clear footage of the origins of music -- the names are posted via concert poster on the side for those who don't know their Muddy Waters from their Otis Redding. As the technology of the times increases, so does the use of the screens on the side. During the Beatles' Shea Stadium concert, it's really evident how little of the music could be heard through the high-pitched screaming, but the lads smile and sing on. Got as close as we'll ever get to a Hendrix concert, and bored guy used some kind of screen to make the five us in the audience part of the action. I was the first to start rockin' out, 'ark was the only one in the room who didn't. Well, besides bored guy. Apparently it was a female rock zone.

When that ended, the doors opened to the standing exhibits. Most of the choice memorabilia is on hand at the Rock & Roll Museum in Cleveland, but they did have some cool pieces heightened by the headphone musical accompaniment providing background to whatever exhibit you're standing in front of. We both loved Clapton's guitar, one just like the one used for the much-beloved Unplugged. 'Ark's other favorites included the first Fender and one Pete Townshend used while with the Who (pictured in the center here).

There was a sharp Hendrix exhibit that included everything from a necklace he wore during the famed Monterey Pop Festival to a TWA bag used in a famous poster (actually both Ritu and I own that one!) and after you've apparently had enough time looking at it, a high-def video from the show starts to play. Other major focal points were the piano John Lennon liked to use, and had on the last day of his life, and Bruce Springsteen's '57 Chevy (anyone want to sing "I've Got a Rock and Roll Heart?)

My personal favorite was this itty bitty dress of Janis Joplin's, which she wore on her famed Newsweek cover. Really gorgeous. I'd like to take the most expensive can opener/magnet EVER that I bought in the gift shop and go back to the cubicle and pry it on outta there! The girl had style ... and was teenie!

We also saw the familiar super-huge white suit David Byrne wore, a notebook of Billy Joel's songs from "The Stranger" opened to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," a harmonica setup of Bob Dylan's and the old signage from The Bottom Line (one of my favorite early '90s haunts) and CBGB's.

The current major exhibit is for The Clash, and while I don't go too deep into their catalog, it was cool to see the huge collection -- from the guitars and clothing to lyric sheets and backstage passes. Apparently that rotates every few months, so we'll have to keep our eyes out for future special exhibits.

Four thumbs-up from Parkage!

Visiting the Happiness Factory

'Ark came up with the perfect New Year's plan, one that probably started percolating in August when we daytripped to Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi's fabulous Soul Stew Revival shows in New Hampshire and Cape Cod. Every year, they've been doing a special year-end show on their turf and so when the Fabulous Fox Theatre announced this year's Dec. 31 bill, it wasn't a hard decision to make to go.

We talked great EC friend and general sweetheart Susan, the Georgia peach, into meeting up with us for some extra goodness. So we all separately made our way to one of my least favorite cities.

To give some fairly earned props, the people were tremendously nice and we got some great advice and even history lessons when we asked questions about the area. And it IS the Coca-Cola capitol! We went over to the Coca-Cola factory, which is where this particular blog's title comes from, and got a brief history of the beverage and all the pop culture and memorabilia associated with it. Very cool stuff.

The funniest thing about the museum/tour is that there is much about Coke in glass bottles ... but who ever sees those? It must be about one percent of their actual manufacturing, since most Coke is in cans or plastic bottles. Park searches far and wide for the glass variations. Luckily 'Ark has one particularly good source at home.

One of the most fun parts, of course, is the tasting room which sports fountain drinks from Coke-related enterprises around the world. There was a bitter lemon drink called Krest that Susan really liked. But it was more fun to watch people drink the ones that didn't taste so good. Case in point: Italy's Beverly. Everyone's face puckered up in chagrin when the taste buds got a hold of that so-called beverage. 'Ark had to bribe me into tasting it, 'cause frankly why else would you after watching every single people who tried it bellow "Yuck!"

(Side note: While Googling a photo of said concoction, found this description in someone else's blog -- "Worst. Drink. Ever. I hope whoever concocted Italy’s Beverly was immediately fired and punched in the face.")

They top off the tour by giving away glass bottles of Coke -- my fave thing in the whole world to imbibe -- so at least we could wash that Beverly away. And then you enter the gift shop -- the music swells up ... ahhhhh ahhhhhhhhh! We couldn't get the M5s (the special aluminum bottles with glow-in-the-dark designs used in European clubs), but they did have Coke in aluminum bottles. The taste out of that was amazing! Funnily enough, it very quickly loses its fizz so you have to down it quickly.

One line for Varsity, the famous long-standing hamburger/hot dog joint. Over-rated!!! If you can't be bothered to even melt cheese on a burger, how good can you be? (OK, two lines.)

Then off to the Fabulous Fox (and it IS Fabulous) for the show. The Arabian courtyard-like auditorium reminded me a lot of Mexico at Epcot center with its rich blue sky and twinkling stars. But all eyes turned the stage for the Soul Stew Revival and once again the best couple in rock 'n' roll delivered!

Derek and Susan each played songs from their respective new albums to open the show, and they sounded fresh and exciting. They whipped up great versions of the Soul Stew standards "Sugar" and "People," but then came the surprises. A cover of the Allman Brothers "Dreams" drove the crowd in a frenzy just in time for midnight, when a netful of balloons were released upon us.

And then more shockers -- a batch of Beatles covers, "I've Got a Feeling" (which I somehow presciently predicted ... by accident ... before the show) and "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window." Even got 'Ark to finally enjoy "Hey Jude" by acting out the lyrics as though he was Jude and I was the song's narrator. My fave part: Actualizing "The movement you need is on your shoulder" and then shrugging shoulders like "what does that mean?"

We've been saying that watching Derek with his band is great, and seeing Susan with her band is too, but together it's 1 + 1 = 3. It's more like 11.

Suffered some physical and transportational ailments after the show, but it won't dim the memories one bit! I should take this time to also commend World's Best Boyfriend, especially since all the women I've told the story to since have been cooing about it. My flight out of Atlanta got canceled. Now 'Ark was already at least 90 minutes away from the airport heading back to Virginia, but he basically stayed where he was until he was sure I was on a plane and not stuck in Atlanta on my own. And he didn't tell me he was doing that, it wasn't until I did some calculations about his ETA on arriving home (yuck, math!) that I figured it out. Ain't nothin' like the real thing, baybee...

Freaky Saturday

Park decided to take a break from the concert scene this week -- sorry Johnny Winter at BB's! -- and work an event purported to be a haven for music/movie/sport memorabilia called the "Gotham Super Collectors Show." Instead it was kind of a haven for the strange and unusual. If you weren't talking to yourself or making jokes to others that they weren't getting, you were apparently doing it wrong.

The show was tucked away at the Holiday Inn on the mid- to upper-West Side. And since 'ark said it once hosted a contingent of Clapton fans in town for a gig, it appears the establishment is used to having weirdness around. I should have known it right off the bat when the organizer, a not-too-distant relative of Cousin Itt, showed me to my table. And when the neighboring dealer came over to look at the stuff as we were putting it up, but sans the usual pleasantries and/or courtesies -- aka a smile or introduction.

But that's mild, baybee, compared to what came later. One of the first happeners-by hadn't washed his hair for at least a month and looked offended that we had no comic books. An introverted Rain Man-esque type in a Giants coat looked very uncomfortable until a woman in a veryyyyy mini Santa Baby skirt showed up. He sat by her for hours. I'm trying to figure out who that was now, since she looks nothing like "Scream Queen" Debbie D nor the "First Lady of Wrestling" Missy Hyatt, both of whom were on the bill.

No wonder the show tanked. Not that it was the fault of former "F-Troop" actor Larry Storch (cough, cough, mothballs!) nor Brutus Beefcake (the 'roided wrestler), because both gamely sat at quiet tables in the room all day. There was a Gandolph, OK, he wasn't Gandolph but he was dressed to the nines in some kind of wizardry wardrobe -- minus the hip sneakers. Of course he was speaking in "fantasy" world language. Near the end, Gandolph started peeling pieces of his costume away. You'd look back and one thing would be different. Look again, and one more thing and so on until he was almost normal. And late in the day, an orange werewolf showed up and kept trying to massage me with his lobster-claw gloves on. 'Ark laughed pretty heartily at that ... but as you can see by the photo, not so much when it was his turn.

Our first customer of the day was a very chatty, very bag-laden lady who had unfortunate scars across her forehead. She thinks people should marry animals to lower the divorce rate. That's just one of the gems we gleaned in her couple trips to our table. But hey, she bought stuff!

We had a pretty good mix of stuff -- DVDs and CDs, hockey and baseball cards, movie photos and vintage concert shirts. We sold enough to recoup our table fee, but I think we could have done really better at a stronger show.

Back to the freaks though. One of the ones who spent extensive time at our table ... and I'll at least give him that since many glanced and decided against checking it out before their eyes even saw everything on it. Hey people, you spent $10 to get in. It's a small show, do yourself a favor and get your money's worth!! Anyway, before I get too off-track like 'ark does ;), this gentleman was looking through movie photos when he said, "These are all from the 20th century. My work is from the 21st century." And "I'm not going to be around much anymore due to my financial situation. So I might not be here next time, except if I come here anyway."

Why the small turnout? Well one of the first things we learned that day was that an enemy of the promoter had emailed people telling them the show was canceled. We were advised to look out for someone who looks like a Green Beret because he has been banned from shows and there's no telling what he might do if he got into ours.

But I'm hesitant to give the Green Beret too much credit. For music and sport collectors who may have previously been to the Gotham, they probably didn't see a need to return. So that left well, what we got. Basically none of the dealers seemed to make out like bandits. So we took it as we got our money back, plus there was an entertainment component we hadn't been expecting.

Oh wait, I almost forgot to talk about the Yankees fan. A young man with a suitable amount of Yankees apparel on happened by, so I started pointing out different Yankees things I had. He seemed to like different things, but at one point he stated, "I'm not giving these guys any more of my money." And then boom! He just ran off. I can appreciate him sticking to his guns like that.

We'll still keep our stuff together and wait for a music or movie show to pop up in the future, then just try to hold us back! 'Ark was glad for the opportunity to have a "starter" show for us, but then again he didn't know about my years of sports card dealer experience as a young 'un. I think I impressed him ... again.

Picture-perfect holiday

The big holiday for my family has become Thanksgiving. My sis and I take pains to make sure we're off the day -- which usually include working Christmas Day. It's become a tradition to have a big dinner at Lorrie's house, which includes lots of food and laughter. This year, the tradition was extended to a weeklong whirlwind trip with car and plane travel, a special and long-awaited reunion, football, food, hockey, ice skating, shopping and again lots of laughs. Lots to be thankful for, to be sure.

A thousand words couldn't take the place of these individual moments. But I usually save the bulk of the actual pictures for another tradition, the family calendar. Although I'm not there to see it, I love hearing about everyone perusing it and enjoying the serious photos as well as the funny ones. And it's something that keeps on giving for a whole year -- well at least for my mom and myself, since we're the ones who use them.

Anyway back to the trip. It started in New York. Right after a hard night's work, I hopped the subway to JFK to catch a plane to Richmond. The plan -- and it worked to perfection -- was to meet Clapton buddy Susan in Savannah on Friday night, see my long-lost Little Sister Jessica on Saturday, go to my first USF home game on Sunday and then make our way to the other side of the state so Mark could finally meet the rest of the family.

We motored on down, sampling pecan rolls along the way and making a pitstop at South of the Border. As anyone who ever took the long summer car trips between the North and Florida knows, the Border billboard signs start out dozens of miles before the stop and grow more voluminous as you get near. There were a few less this year, and even fewer people at the stop. The employees outnumbered the customers. Talk about out of season!

We had arranged to meet Susan at Sam Snead's restaurant in Savannah. The late legendary golfer put together a nice shrine with a sharp menu. Even on an upset stomach, I couldn't help trying to pack away the prime rib special. And yes, for those in the know, Susan did spill her water! It's so endearing ... and wet!

The next day, Park ventured onward to Florida, arranging to meet Jessica -- I was a Big Sister to her Little Sister many MANY moons ago while on the West Coast of Florida. In fact, the age she is now is the age I was when we first met. Yikes! When I saw her striding around the corner, I started hopping up and down. Lots of squealing, lots of hugging and borderline tears. Mark (and the valets) were eating it up. Speaking of eating, more good grub!

Jess looked stupendously fabulous and we just talked and laughed. Which of course led Mark to wonder how we could have been apart so long if we're so in sync. My answer was that I just expected to see her again someday, to have these kind of moments again. She needed here time and space to become her own person. Guess what her own person is? A journalism major at the University of South Florida! Great choice, I say! Except her minor is Theater and mine was Dance. Black sheep!!

The next day we went to the Big Top Flea Market. Every time we thought we were done, another row or extension we hadn't been down popped up. Found lots of cool things, including some rocking additions to the lighter collection (a submarine, a grenade, a laster, a frog and an Oreo). We went to one of my old haunts, Vinyl Fever (OK, it's in a new location) and then met Jess and b/f Darnell for yet even more good food at the Columbia Restaurant, which opened in Tampa in 1905.

Then on to Raymond James Stadium to see our USF Bulls. They had struggled in recent weeks, so it was great to see them get off to a fast start. Three quarters went by before anything else happened. Jess seemed to like my derisive chant to UConn "Compass! Compass!" since they ran side to side more than up and down the field.

Next day it was on to the homefront. Mark had met my sis, but not my mom nor my bro. We went to Mom's where both were waiting and it quickly dissolved into boys vs. girls. In other words, he fit right in. "Did you just call me 'ark?" he inquired of Mom at one point. Mom made one of my childhood favorites for dinner, veal parmigiana, and we scarfed that down. Inside with Mom, I missed most of the fun when Mark and Jeff went outside to try the cigar he had bought at the Columbia "just to try it."

The next day we went to a flea market in Boca Raton where the only thing we found was a compass lighter, blue to remind us of UConn. The most hilarious moment was when we were looking at one particular outfit with a longer shirt and a short-sleeve shirt under it. The woman kept changing the prices, and raising them, even though we were rapidly losing interest. "That's $32 ... no $42." I said "How about $52?" as we walked away. Not the right way to play it in this economy.

Wednesday was a day full of ice. In Florida, as 'ark likes to point out. We picked up my whirling dervish of a nephew, Shane, and took him ice skating. Even Mark was going to try it out. Shane and I zipped around the ice with his child bar, but they didn't have them for adults, so Mark mostly stood at the boards until a nice instructor showed him how to do a couple of basics. The boys wrapped up the morning by having a snowball fight with the snow that was piled outside the rink.

We met up with Sis and hubby Keith ... back to boys vs. girls ... and headed south NOT to Miami. Played games at Dave & Busters -- the funniest part was a trivia game that only gave prize tickets for the top three. When two more people joined us, they couldn't crack the top three. Completely shut out!

Speaking of that, the Devils had quite the shutout going on for most of their game against the Panthers later that night. But Florida scored twice in the final three minutes to tie up the game. Things got worst when Pinhead Salvador took a penalty for clearing a puck into the crowd, but that infraction was killed off and Johnny O. scored with less than a minute left to send us (and a sizable portion of the crowd in Sunrise) home happy.

Mark had to head back to Virginia on Thanksgiving Day (female co-workers wanted to shop Black Friday, of course!) but he left his cookies (literally!) behind. The Schectors and Benders had a great dinner with lots of laughs ... and extra salt. Mere hours later, me, Sis and Mom trudged off to the mall to start shopping. Yay, I got another rockin' Hendrix hoodie cheaply ... boo, the Lucky Brand watch I wanted wasn't on sale nor could we get either of the two salesladies we asked to part with the little sunburst guitar that was part of the display.

And then hours after that, I was on a plane and darn if I didn't just about fly over a week's worth of memories.

With or without you

Editor's Note: I had this headline picked out between the two days that appear in this blog because I went to one with 'ark and one solo. But after hearing the sad news that Jimi Hendrix's longtime drummer Mitch Mitchell passed, well it has taken on a different connotation. I just saw Mitchell out and about with the Experience Hendrix crew just a few weeks ago, and he looked as vibrant and enthused as the first go-around a year earlier. He got to do what he loved to the very end, and we couldn't have asked for much more than that for him. So I won't, and I'll just dedicate this week's entry to Mitch.

There were a lot of mid-week events going on this week, New York, baybee! Monday night, I found out that my fave celebrity chef, Jamie Oliver (no, he's not my fave because his name is Jamie! :P) was going to be doing a signing at Borders in early afternoon next day.

Takes a lot to get me up and about at that time of day, so Mr. Oliver apparently is a measuring stick in that regard. I've enjoyed his appearances on Letterman (which often end in the both of them wolfing down something you or I might find inedible -- such as olive oil from the bottle) and even tried one or two of his recipes over the years. I guess I would be the target audience for him on Dave, someone not into cooking who wanted to try it out.

So I dutifully bought my copy of his new book "Jamie at Home" (made with paper from 'sustainable managed forests') and got on the line. Not too long, the holiday might have kept people out of the city and he also was doing a couple of other appearances in times and places I couldn't get to the next two days.

He was running late and one of the girls I was chatting with on the line put it perfectly -- as soon as he gets here, we're going to forget all about the fact he made us wait. And it was totally true. He's got a very effusive personality and greeted us with "Hi guys!" when he finally made his entrance.

I had wanted to tell him something about my "target audience" theory or maybe that I had made my own variation of the sausage meatballs he made on Dave last year, but he distracted me by asking if I was a New Yorker. Now what do I always answer in that circumstance? Well usually, I say yes. But for some reason, I went "I'm a New Jerseyan." Had to think about the "Jerseyan" part. Same thing, he said. I guess it's about the same as someone living in a London suburb being deemed as someone from London. But he can say basically anything he wants with that personable English accent, and it certainly worked here.

One of the people on line took a picture for me, I had promised to do the same for him when we were buying our books since Majeed had taken my photo with Chris Trucks last weekend. Just paying it forward.

Fast forwarding... now 'ark is in tow for the back end of our "Ultimate Rock 'N' Roll Couple" bookend. We saw Derek Trucks and the Gang twice last weekend, now wife Susan Tedeschi and the Funky Bunch appear at Irving Plaza, now tabbed The Fillmore (why bother, since it's bogus and should just be the legendary Irving Plaza instead) I have to admit though, seeing the cool-ass posters from every concert medium is pretty impressive.

Speaking of that, opener James Hunter and his five-piece band did a great job of sending the wayback machine back to the '50s with guitar-driven style. I half-expected to turn back to the rest of the crowd like a scene out of Peggy Sue Got Married or meet my bobbysoxed mom as Michael J. Fox's character did in Back to the Future.

Even better though was Ms. Tedeschi, who manages to have one of the best female voices going and hittin' every note (Allman Brothers Band inside joke!) on the guitar. She has this little speaking voice and this great big beautiful singing style. Her chops on the guitar could slay many as well.

It's not a confrontational style, but it's certainly not a Grateful Dead vibe. It's kind of a soothing rock-out effect. "Back to the River" and "Just Won't Burn" were among the tracks that proved powerful in their ability to draw a mental picture, punctuated by the bluesy vocals and striking notes. The perfect way to wrap up a long summer/fall Park leg of concerts.

So next up, and this is expected to be a doozie. The big trip home for Thanksgiving, although 'ark's gotta depart on Turkey Day :( because of that neither rain, nor sleet, nor overstuffed bellies' mailman mantra. Among the stops Park will be making on a shorter tour almost shorter than Eric Clapton or Lindsey Buckingham's brief forages this year will be -- dinner with Sus, my first college football home game with my Big Bros/Big Sis little sister Jessica (jeez, I don't want to think about how old she is now!~~), Devils hockey with my sis (OK, the guys are coming too), a visit with my favorite -- and only -- nephew and 'ark meets the other two most important people to me, Mom and Jefe. 'ark will get his five minutes to schedule a visit with a friend as well. Back after the trip! Happy T-giving, everyone. :)