Once in a while, you get to stand near genius. Chuck Ellis was that. His socks never matched. His hair was never combed. His aged VW bug struggled against the mildest of headwinds. But he could play the bass. God, could he play the bass. I would forget about the audience when I was onstage with Chuck. He was a tour guide into the unknown and I needed to pay attention. One afternoon in 92’, Chuck and I were walking near Washington Square Park, when I told him I was moving out of NYC and to Richmond, Va. Jokingly, I said, “I’m not moving back south unless I get and old truck and a dog.” Chuck’s bic lighter misfired a time or two, as it always did, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and replied, “A pregnant dog wandered up on our farm in Greenville. Don’t know what it is… sure as hell don’t know what the dad was… but when you come down, if you want a puppy, it’s yours.” Such a offer could have fallen flat coming from most people. But Chuck was magic. A few months later, I met Chuck in Greensboro, NC to pick out a puppy. He presented me with three. They were all perfect. I selected the black one. A couple of weeks later, the other two died. Lloyd went on to be my best friend for 15 years. I leaned on him through the darkest days of my life. He never let me down. I miss Chuck. I miss Lloyd. They were both geniuses with unkept hair. It’s taken me years to want a dog. Now we have George. He was born in a barn. George has impossible paws to fill. But I see a twinkle in his eye, even when I call him Lloyd. I think this friend named George knows something that I don’t know. George was born in a barn, now hes sleeping with our boys. Somewhere, Lloyd is smiling. Life is beautiful that way. Like a perfect bass line. Happy National Dog Day. It’s good to be loved.
Posted on: Wed, 27 Aug 2014 03:38:38 +0000
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