Charlie

I don't know why I feel so bad about the passing of Charlie Watts.  He was quiet glue that held the Stones together,  a man of elegant demeanor and a stylish dresser.  He seemed like the guy everyone could count on.  While Mick and Keith were busy chasing women and a variety of substances, he went home to his wife and daughter immune to their excesses.  It seemed that he would go on forever. They will carry. on with Steve Jordan (Keith's buddy) sitting in the chair. 

My interest in the band has waned.  For me, they have become old guys singing old songs that I have sung in the car, on the beach and now on Pandora.  Mick is still impregnating young women,  Keith is still idolizing Chuck Berry.  Ron is now an accomplished painter.  The Rolling Stones are making scads of money doing what they have done thousands of times before. Mick is dying his hair and Keith dons a scarf to hide his receding hairline. Perhaps I have lost patience with their lack of growth as musicians. I know way too. much bitching

 I was also crushed when George Harrison succumbed to cancer in 2000. He just wanted to live a quiet life with his family and make small music with his buddies. He had a collection of ukuleles he carried around in the trunk of his car, according to Tom Petty.  With them, music was always at the ready. 

On the upside, we completed "The Chair" on Netflix, only six episodes will leave you wanting another season. I started watching "The Howling Wold Story" a documentary on Prime showing a decent history of the blues in the 50's.  There is ample interview time with his daughters and Hubert Sumlin, his guitarist. If you love musical roots, this one is for you.

It's a steamy morning today in Berkley with very little breeze.  Judy is going to the dentist (normal checkup) and we are taking kids to Spencer Lake for one last summer hurrah.  We are still suffering from intermittent elevators and I have few tomatoes left to pick.  The birds are chirping outside and I am ready to turn on the AC.

all for now

stay safe