Aftermath

As much as I loved the Night of Zick, I loved the next morning, too. Although it came too soon, with a cavalcade of happy revelers shuffling down the hall to our weary bathroom. I think I dozed fitfully for an hour all night, too wound up and overstimulated to collapse. BOTB set to work cooking a massive breakfast, which I believe involved four dozen eggs. Toast, bacon, scrambled eggs with all the trimmings--his elbows were flying and the short-order cook in him came out of hiding.

Eventually we gravitated to the garage, the scene of so much revelry the night before. Our longtime friends John from Oxford and Bill and Joe from Baltimore pulled out their guitars, mandolins, harmonicas and dobro, and we made homespun music--tunes like Catfish, Bully of the Town, and a string of Dylan songs that I'd forgotten how much I loved.

Patrick wandered in, fresh from the showers, and hung with us.I had to have a documentary photo of me doing an inner squeeeeee! I geeked all the way out, and had to retire to the shade of the forsythia bush, where little Jesse, son of John, had spread his blankie and pillow. Baby boy and dog and cicadas playing their saws on a summer morning, it doesn't get much better than that.Jesse and Baker cuddled for a long time. Chet Baker adores little kids, and always goes out of his way to play with them and make them feel special. He watched Jesse spreading the blanket on the ground and as soon as it was ready he flopped down to keep him company. Chet Baker, Comfort Hound.The sweet resonant drone-tickle of the dobro washed out over us. I decided it sounds like rain on the road.We spend an awful lot of time laughing our heads off when we get together.Bill loves playing music with his old friends, and the sound they produce is warm and deeply familiar.
Baltimore Bill's left foot has a life all its own. It flops like a fish when he plays and sings. When the Flat World Band used to meet and play in BOTB's old Baltimore apartment, the woman in the apartment downstairs always got out her broom and banged on the ceiling, but it didn't help. That foot has to move. Later that evening, Bill and Bill assumed their true identities.
I got to spend some time with some of my favorite babies, when I could work my way in between Phoebe and Liam, who love babies as much as I do. This is Sophia.photo by Phoebe Linnea Thompson

Patrick and the Patrick Sweany band finally left around 2 the next afternoon, having had probably as good a time as we did. Pat handed out his new CD, Every Hour is a Dollar Gone, like candy. Go here and listen to Hotel Women. Listen to any of them. Oh my goodness. I had to ask Pat to pose, celebrity cheek to celebrity cheek.So cute, I had to take another.A Sweanyfix and a Chetfix in one go. Sigh. I guess it had to end sometime. We're still reassembling our house and garage, and trying to figure out what to do with half a giant jug of Gallo wine, huge bags of chips, melted candles, paper lanterns, mystery pie plates and serving spoons, homeless sippy cups, six giant leaf bags of trash, about a ton of bottles and cans, and a long purple shawl. Thanks for all the good wishes.