More letting go

I headed out today for a meeting with this guy. I’ve actually been anticipating this meeting since I first let my then-boss know that I was leaving UGA. He had some contact with him regarding a little project he’s working on for Georgia. A few days later, I was talking with this guy as I did and still do frequently… one of my very dear music friends and one hell of a good human being. Turns out, he was working on the same project with the first guy. A nice relationship developed there, and they have since begun working very closely.

After numerous failed attempts to meet in Athens, we were finally to meet today at this place. About the time I hit Edmonson Pike at 4:30, the skies opened up. As is the case in many towns, the rain slowed traffic to a pace slower than the most sensitive version of “Lush Life” you have ever heard. Wisely, so I thought, I got off of I-65 and turned left onto Wedgewood and right on 12th. Somehow, I wound up on the north side of Broadway without ever remembering crossing it. As the rain continued, I maneuvered to 17th, heading south, in an attempt to get back to Demonbreun. Through four lights I sat as drivers in the road perpendicular to mine crossed into the intersection, failing or refusing to accurately calculate their likelihood of passing successfully to the other side of the intersection before the light changed.

When I finally arrived (fifteen minutes late), I met Bruce. I had seen his picture dozens of times, and had heard his tunes thousands. For some reason, I was taken aback when I heard his accent. I don’t know… I guess I should have figured that someone from Gainesville, Georgia would have a fairly southern accent, but his picture didn’t look like he would. He did, and I was naturally much more at ease when I realized it.

We talked about the project he’s undertaking, and my goals here. When it was revealed to him that I did have aspirations of writing pop music and doing some producing, he reminded me that this wasn’t just a country town. “That girl in the black dress behind you?” he whispered, “She’s an A and R director for C@pitol in town snooping around for new bands. It’s not just twang and 1, 4, 5 here anymore.” I just laughed and thought about how cool that was.

He pulls out his cell phone to check the time, and says, “I’m sorry but I’ve got to get out of here, oddly enough for thi…. wait… you should come with me!” Before I could say, “Where?” he was on the phone leaving a voice mail saying that I would be “perfect to help out with what we’re doing before the Vanderbilt game” and asking if it was ok for me to come along. The person whom he had intended to reach called back immediately, and it was, of course, fine for me to come along. I guess I should have mentioned, Bruce is a UGA alum. In fact he’s now got a place in Athens because of the “project.” It’s right above Masada, and I’m jealous.

I made my way to Cool Springs, and found myself at a restaurant being introduced to six other alums and a development officer and telling my story repeatedly… often hearing, “So you just dropped everything and moved up here?” or, “What did you do with the band?” Three hours of a dinner three pay-grades above mine and discussion that frequently included such phrases as “Coach Magill,” “right there on Clayton,” “hop over to the Grill,” “the Redcoats,” and “D.J.” ensued. I learned of famous Nashville personalities who share my collegiate affiliation, and traded stories which revealed much fewer than six degrees of separation between me and the old friends I just met. Email addresses and numbers were exchanged and we began to leave the restaurant. Across the parking lot, echoes of “We’ll see you soon,” and “Write a hit” bounced off of the walls of the adjacent mall, and then I was back on my way home in more ways than one.

I just love it when plans change for the better. Almost invariably, the allowance of life to happen to me results in a far more satisfactory end than any design I could ever have written. The more “delicious ambiguity” I experience, the more I realize that there is far more value in this move than potential financial earnings. I am learning to enjoy the ride.

It’s about time.