My friends joke that I was born in the middle of Great Lawn Softball Field #7
and grew up dangling my feet in what was to become the Turtle Pond we know and love.
Although I suppose I am what was briefly referred to in the early 2000s as a metrosexual,
I consider myself a robust adventurer—who has braved the Central Park Loop countless times, living and breathing the endless selection of fine wares and world cuisine.
Ah, the cuisine:
good Chinese to not so good Chinese;
sublime Italian to crustaceans with a beef;
deli and homemade soups that deserve their legendary status.
Although I often end up in a timeless supper club with my beloved coq au vin.
But back to my short story--
A year ago, I received an email intended for someone else.
It was a query addressed to a name similar to mine--
the one that the sender, a musician from the South, was apparently looking for.
I delayed for several days but I finally did respond--
saying that I was sorry but she was looking for someone else.
I thought nothing more about it.
And then, about a month later, I received another email from this lively singer/songwriter;
it was obviously a publicity blitz for a "Concert on the Lawn",
being held in the exotic locale of Texas--
featuring a variety of local talent playing various fusions of folk, country and rock.
How colorful, I thought to myself.
I was on her mailing list!
The missive was replete with proffered song downloads for a dollar
and reviews from publications both local and from neighboring states.
There was genuine passion in her talk of what was to come.
I receive notices of upcoming performances on a regular basis.
They describe the musicians, their histories, their inspirations, the food, the beer,
the fun that will be had under the hot, southern sun or in the warm, southern night.
There are the downloads and the tip jars and the love for what they're doing
that vibrates right off the page--
and my lively singer/songwriter in the middle of it all, on fire with her dreams.
I always buy her newest song and read every word of the post.
And while nothing will ever replace the exquisite Paganini in my universe,
and I consider it unlikely that I will ever attend any of these events--
I have become, in the truest sense of the word, an admirer of this southern songstress--
this dynamo who is living the life she has chosen.
I am — a fan.
Written Content G.A.M. cc
Hat & Guitar Olga Olejnikova