Are You Tommy Bibey?
98.3% of what goes on in bluegrass music is good. But even in bluegrass every so often there will be a problem. In interest of full disclosure I feel the need to report it all.
Red White and Blue was a great festival, and went almost without incident. I did run into one problem fellow, though. First of all, let me say he was in violation of the rules. No alcohol is allowed on the festival grounds. It didn’t take a doctor to make the diagnosis of intoxication.
He stopped me as I walked to go get a cup of coffee. The man was red faced, sunburned and shirtless. He had on a ball cap with a pig on the front. “Ain’t you Tommy Bibey?”
“You’re the third person who has mistaken me for him. Why do you ask?”
“That there band is too d@#^ loud. That ain’t bluegrass.”
I glanced over at the stage. “Hm. Well, I’m O.K. with ‘em. Yeah, I guess they are a bit progressive, but I don’t want them all to sound the same.”
“You need to see to it they don’t book no more bands like that.”
“Man, I don’t have any control over that. I’m not in charge.”
“Ain’t you Tommy Bibey?”
“Well he wouldn’t have a band here like them boys.”
“Hm. I know him. Next time I see him I’ll talk to him about it.”
“I hope you do. You know who runs this thing?”
“No sir.” I handed the man two quarters. “Tell you what. Take this over to Mr. Harold and put it towards some ice cream. Tell him Tommy Bibey sent you.”
“I thought you said you weren’t Bibey.”
“I’m not. But I know him. That’s what he would recommend. He’d say get some ice cream and eat it while you wait for the next band to come on. There’s some tables down yon way.” I waved my hands towards the picnic tables off in the distance. “Name’s Edward. I’ll tell Tommy I ran into you.” I stuck out my hand.
He shook it, and gave me a strange look. “Ice cream?”
“Yeah, I recommend the peach.” I pointed towards Mr. Harold’s trailer. “Right over there.”
“O.K. I’ll go get some. “
I went back to my seat to take in the show. I can play a little, but I couldn’t stay on the stage with those boys. They were excellent. I looked over my shoulder and saw the man seated at a table at the far end of the festival grounds eating his ice cream. I hope it was peach. I wanted him to have as much fun as I was having.
At the same time, I didn’t want him to find me. I hope he remembers my name was Edward.
Dr. BExplore posts in the same categories: bluegrass characters, Writing
Tags: bluegrass music storiesYou can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.