The Real Dr. Bibey
This web thing is a true learning experience. I heard today from a fellow who was an anthropositor. I’m not exactly sure what all that is, but I think it is a sub-specialty of ethnomusicology, and involves archaeological digs to study ancient music traditions. (Lord, I wonder what they’ll think when they dig up the County some day.) He made a very astute edit, and I promptly corrected my error.
In his note, he had some question, as others have in the past, about whether Tommy Bibey was real, and wasn’t sure they would print up my driver’s licence that way. I went back and looked, and sure enough it says Tommy Bibey. Course, around here we have some folks that just go by their initials- one fellow has been B.G.P., or B.G. for short, for as long as I can remember. One time I saw his driver’s licence, and that’s what it said, B.G.P. He is a heck of a player, too.
Now not believing in Tommy Bibey- I don’t know what to think of that ’cause except for adding Doctor to the name that’s what it always has been. (Even back then they all said I would be a doctor.)
Why, not believing in myself, Dr.Tommy Bibey, would be to give up on dreams and hope. It’d be like my heart not believing I can help every one of my patients, even when reality is smacking me in the face to say it ain’t true. Shoot, my soul would have to quit believing that if I practice hard I can eventually play the mandolin like Darrell, even though my brain knows it to be impossible.
I remember that fellow who wrote in to the New York Times and dissed Santa Clause, and well….. O.K., I agree it ain’t that big an issue, but I just gotta believe in Tommy Bibey, and so do my patients. Heck, the next miracle might be just around the corner, for all we know.
I heard from my agent, and he has already corrected my dangling participles on the print copy. Somehow he stays one step ahead of me, but I think he is still exasperated.