I remember listening to “Wisteria” on my record player over and over, and staring at the cover of the album, with Dan’s handsome face.
I practiced learning every song on that album, alone in my room,
dreaming that someday I, too, would be a leader of a band, or tour, or make records.
I never got to meet Dan on the tours with him. He had other people do his soundchecks, and he always arrived right after I had finished my set.
He’d come dashing in from the car, go straight to his dressing room (if there was time), and then straight to the stage. Usually it was straight to the stage, where he would sit down at the piano and start to play.
Trust me, I wanted to meet Dan. I wanted to say “Thank you” for his encouraging me to become a singer/songwriter, even though he had no idea how he had done so. I wanted to tell him what an honor it was to sing before him night after night, for him to share his listening audience with me, for all the love I felt as I sang along in the audience to every word of every one of his songs.
I don’t feel bad that we didn’t ever meet. There are forces bigger at play here then me meeting a childhood idol. In his heart, surely he must have known that there were thousands of kids like me who grew up to make music because of him? Or, if not, then he certainly knew that his music was loved and revered, and I didn’t need to be one more
voice reminding him. He seemed to be very private, and I respected that.
So, I will say it out loud now, at my computer, for his spirit to hear:
Thank you, Dan. Thank you for giving me the gift of a dream, one that is being carried on, now, through my daughters’ love of song, too.
Songwriters/singers/musicians like you are the storytellers of our lives, and you capture those moments that we wish to reclaim, anytime we choose, simply by putting
your music on the stereo… instantly we are transported to those times of laughter or tears.
Should old acquaintance be forgot….and never brought to mind…
I think not, Dan. You’ll never be forgotten.