 Prelude So, there we were at Grove #2 at Grandfather Mountain on a fine Sunday Morning, just as the sun began to peek through the branches of the trees. This was the last day of a three-day stint at the mountain, sharing this particular stage with our friend, Ed Miller, the silver-throated Scot-turned-Texan.
Sunday morning, Ed wasn't on the ground for two minutes before he got to fidgeting and asked for the flask. He didn't catch the looks Wolfie and I shot each other - he tipped the flask and downed about half of it with no more than two twitches of his Adam's apple. When the liquid exploded in his stomach, Ed, perhaps prompted by the fact that it was the Lord's Day, commenced praying in a loud voice. He invoked every deity known to us plus a couple of obscure Jin who evidently inhabit castaway bottles in the sewers of his native Edinburgh. By the time Ed hit the stage, the 'commodities' were destroying his little grey cells. He forgot his lyrics and his set-list. He did manage an amusing, inspirational and fluent diatribe about evil little men with whiskey flasks filled with demonic fluid, while gesturing in my general direction. John Knox could not have done better! Finally, his set being over, he introduced the next act - 'a bunch of reprobates from Tennessee!' We got on stage with smiles on our faces. We smiled all day! Ed will make you smile, too: http://www.io.com/~edmiller/ed/text.html. Wayne Reuel Bean |