With the Beatnecks back in Kingsport for Twilight Alive, a free summer outdoor series, and the spouse on a business trip, the grandson and I had pleasant prospects for killing a few evening hours. At least I hoped as much.

I'd figured out a way to nab the seating position I wanted (read: up front) without having to show up so early that a three-year-old might get restless before the show even started.

After picking Colton up at daycare a couple blocks away, we stopped at the show stage a little after 5:00 and set up six chairs (hoping certain out-of-town motorcycling Wilderians would show up later) on the left side of the street, just as the band was unloading the Econoline. There were already, I noted, a dozen or so chairs set up in a couple impromptu rows ... little did I know one of these would manage to come into play later.

Before we left for the house to change and eat, I introduced Colton to Webb, but he decided to be shy (Colton, that is, not Webb). I also asked Tom Comet to watch for that out-of-town party, and to point them to our chairs, should they show up before we got back.

We returned around 6:40 (show time was 7:00'ish), and circled the now sizeable crowd, but our friends were as yet nowhere to be seen.

As we sat down, I again ran through the what-if list in my head ... factors that might render the evening less than pleasant for a three-year-old (and thus his Pappaw). What if the music was too loud? ($40 fine!) Would he get tired and cranky as the night wore on and his bedtime approached? (For that matter, would I?)

I'm happy to report all concerns were rendered moot.

As the band was being introduced, we had this exchange:
"What's his name?"
"Who?"
"The one in the hat"
"That's Webb Wilder"
"The one in the hat"
"Yes"
"Webb Wilder"
"Yes"
"The one in the hat"
"Yes"

By the second song, "Ruff Rider," Colton was dancing along behind the front rows of chairs, amusing our neighbors.

At some point, a couple of local friends wandered by, parking their beverages in our vacant cup holders while they went up front to dance to the second half of "Poolside." As they then stood waiting for the next song to start, I noticed the wife having a brief conversation with a woman sitting on the front row on the other side of the street, at which point they came back and retrieved their beverages. Incredulous but good-natured, they said the woman had informed them that, since she'd been there since 5:00, they weren't allowed to block her view. "I think I could kick her butt," the wife chuckled, "but we'll let it go," before heading back into the crowd. I was stunned. How incredibly rude. It wasn't like she'd, ya know, PAID for that seat. Fortunately for her, I was in grandfather-minding-his-own-business mode. If by chance you're reading this, ma'am ... wow, what a buzzkiller. And did I mention rude?

During a quick intermission, Colton and I took another walk (still no sign of the friends) and picked up some nacho chips and cheese while we were at it. He was having a great time.

"Baby Please Don't Go" had the same effect on Colton it does on most WW crowds. If he wasn't dancing, he was singing (lyrics of his own choosing) into my straw he clutched as a microphone. Did I mention he was having a great time?

Finally, after a "Jumping Jack Flash" encore (Pappaw's favorite kind), the show was done. As I bagged up our chairs (hoping our friends had just had a change of plans and hadn't encountered difficulties on the road), I suggested to Colton that we go speak to Webb before we left.

"The one in the hat"
"Yes"
"Webb Wilder"
"Yes"
"The one in the hat"
"Yes"

After waiting (semi) patiently our turn in line, Colton's shyness had evaporated.

"Hi, Webb Wilder"
"Hello, Colton"
"You played the guitar"
(with a smile) "Yes, I did"
"You did good!"
(with a chuckle) "Well, thank you"

By the way, Colton now has a Webb Wilder-autographed Mickey Mouse shirt. I'm guessing there's not another such article on the planet.

On our drive to daycare the next morning, Colton said,
"I love Webb Wilder"
"You do, huh?"
"Yes. And he's not scary"
"I suppose he's not"

Colton then broke into his own version of "Baby Please Don't Go"

Ya know, it's never too early to expose young'ns to good, real music.

Last of the full-grown men...
Last of the boardinghouse people...
An outsider who feels as though he's on the wrong side of the tracks no matter where he's at...
Was never a child and will never have children...
Idol of idle youth...
Maintains the respect and admiration of the Highway Patrol and reckless teens...
Knows every plate lunch joint and thrift shop in town...
Electrifying artist...



And NOT scary!

Great story, Frank!

Hunter

Awesome!

LOVE the story, Frank! I hear that Mr. Colton is quite a character. I met him once--almost two years ago, I think--but I would love to see him again. I was wondering, though: Have you ever asked him, "Who's on first?"
Susan

Great story Frank!!!!

Vote for me...I'm not scary! WW

"He's not scary!" Sounds like swell (and factual) WW T-shirt! Fantastic narrative, Frank!

Frank: Sorry we missed the show and your Grandson. The weather was not cooperating with us in North Carolina and it was the coldest June I've ever witnessed in Tennessee, Kentucky and North Carolina. We headed back to Tater Acres on Wednesday evening and had to miss the Kingsport show. We did catch the band in Jackson Tennessee though and got some good map-questing information from Tom Comet that made our trip a lot easier and less stressful.
We'd have loved to see Frank in Grandfather mode. By the way I've always found that a pretty good mode to be in.
Anyhow, we will catch ya'll at another show soon!

Very enjoyable to read. I'm considerably older than three but I feel Colton speaks for us all. :)