My baby Brother Jack sat in a coffee shop in Greenwich Village. Jimmie sat with two white women waiting for his supper.
“You know who that is?” I asked
“No!..It can’t be,” said Jack. “Go and find out. Please, please, please.”
I walk over to the guitar legends’ table taking off my elaborate Allan Stuck necklace made of copper and said, “You seem to like jewelery. My friend is a jewelry maker who likes to share his work. Would you like to have this necklace?”
Jimmie was wearing silver and turquoise, but he said “sure.”
I gave it to him, he said thanks and I turned to walk away.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
“Alex, what’s yours?”
Jack came unglued and said no one would believe him at high school, and go ask for an autograph. I said he wouldn’t want to be bothered, but Jack strongly insisted.
I took the two yellow submarine post cards to Jimmie’s table, apologized for bothering him, and he saw Jack all excited and gaga looking.
“My brother Jack would love to have an autograph. Would you mind?”
“Sure” he said without hesitation.”This is my managers info, and I’m in Marrakesh in the winter because some of Africa’s finest musicians go there, so come see me.”
He finished his meal, crossed the street and sat in with Tom Hayden for an up close, kick ass set.