I Can’t Tell You Why

Juno Shout Out:  I just want to start today’s post by wishing all of my East Coast readers my very best wishes.  Hope you’re staying safe and warm- and still have your Internet connections. And Boston, good luck with all that shoveling and snow-blowing.

Okay, back to business….

Have you ever been hooked on a song?  You know.  You love it so much that you play it over and over again?

GEN X’ER ALERT:  Back in the day, if I wanted “instant” replay, I would have to actually get up from my bed, and walk over to the record player, and manually replace the needle onto the exact track I wanted to hear again.  This waste of time and energy in today’s era of “press play” does not seem possible now.

But when I was young (er) that was the only means available if I wanted to hear my current favorite tune again.

And I did.  For a variety of reasons.

Sometimes I just fell for a song- or the singer.  I’d be mesmerized by one or the other, and I would have to play that cut over and over again.

Sometimes I wanted to memorize the lyrics if they captivated me enough.  Easy with “She Loves You.”  Not so simple with “Like A Rolling Stone” or “Samba Saravah” from A Man And A Woman.  (It’s in French. I also taught myself the words to “Perifdia” and “Frenesi” this way- and I don’t speak Spanish.)

But my favorite reason to replay songs was to learn and transcribe the lyrics for some of my friends who had garage bands,

They couldn’t afford the sheet music, you see.  And they just couldn’t get all the words off the radio.  So sooner or later, I’d get this call.

Lead Singer of Local Band:  Hey, Roffe.  We need the words to “You Really Got Me.” You know?  The Kinks?  Can you do that?  We’re playing at the Rolling Stone (local teenage club) Friday night and we’re desperate, man.

Me :  Sure.  No problem.

And it wasn’t.

And so I’d listen to the song a few times, write down the words and deliver the pirated lyric to the Lead Singer at school the next day.

But more often than not, it was just a case of endless love.

One Colorado summer, I had it bad for Vince Gill.  You know- twenty-time Grammy winning SUPERSTAR country western guitar player extraodinaire who has also been blessed with an amazing set of pipes.

For me, all this talent came roaring together on his cover of  the fabulous Eagles’ (Frye-Henley-Schmit) song “I Can’t Tell You Why.”

As good as Timothy B. Schmit’s version was, Vince had kicked it up a notch and made it his own.

And I played it- and Vince’s Souvenirs album- all the time.

That was my view. Nice, huh?

And that album was my song of summer. I would turn on the outside speakers and lay on a chaise on my back patio overlooking that golf course while Vince’s angelic voice would waft gracefully and thrillingly through the ether.

One lazy late morning the dogs and I were outside fooling around.  Of course, Vince was on the speakers.  But all of a sudden, out of the big, beautiful, blue sky, I heard a voice.

“Where’s that gal who’s always playing me?”  it said.

And I looked up and there was Vince Gill dressed in golf clothes walking across my yard.

He was accompanied by a couple of grinning guys- and Mike.

I was shocked.  To say the least.

He continued.

“I met Mike here on the golf course and he explained that you’re a big fan.  Just thought I’d drop in and say ‘hi’.”

Still speechless, I could only stare.

And then I started grinning like a fool.  I felt just like Lucy Ricardo when she bumps into Cornell Wilde or William Holden or John Wayne.  Something crazy like that.

“Oh, my God, I don’t believe this.  I love you,” I stated with nothing but the truth.

And then he hugged me.

I looked over Vince’s shoulder and there was Mike smiling his head off.

What were the odds?

The Rest Of The Story…

Vince, and his wife Amy Grant, were in town to give a concert for their Challenge Aspen Golf Tournament.  Challenge Aspen helps disabled athletes enjoy recreational and sporting opportunities from skiing to rafting to anything else this gem of a mountain hamlet has to offer.

For years disabled vets and physically and mentally-challenged kids have been coming to Aspen to be healed – at least for a little while- by the powers of nature.

And Mike- a Marine and Viet Nam vet himself-  taught many adaptive ski classes to other wounded vets.  Vince and Amy’s two day tournament/concert was the cornerstone of Challenge Aspen’s all year fund-raising efforts.

So one day, the worlds collided, and Vince Gill walked into my life.

Needless to say, we went to his concert that night.  And the next year, I myself volunteered to be a marshall on one of the holes of the tournament golf course.

(I got a pretty nifty autographed copy of Souvenirs, too.)

Well, that’s my story.  Now all you have to do is Press Play.

And who knows?

Maybe Vince will come walking in to your backyard, too.

I can’t tell you why.