Today I found out an old friend had died. We all called him Gypsy. He lived through the Tulsa race riots. He was a blues legend of his time, playing with some greats like Janis Joplin, and how he wound up in Tulsa, I don't know. But then, I once met a man who once was in AA with Eric Clapton in Tulsa. Gypsy was an old black man with feeble legs, he walked with a cane. Yet when his fingers touched the bass it was riveting to hear him. My friend who had been taking care of him told me Gypsy always spoke highly of me. He loved my voice and dug my lyrics thought they were beautiful, loved to watch me in performances, "and she's funny too!" My friend said just talking about me Gypsy would get all riled up. I'm glad I could bring joy in to his life, this brings me comfort and tears.
So I lost one of my biggest fans. It was hard for me, to see him close to the end. I feel guilty about this. It was hard to be around him, I could tell he was on the way out. It hurts me to see someone struggling, I felt his pain.
Now that pain is no longer there. When my friend told me today the gentle man had passed, I said, "Good." And started crying. He was truly a gentle, loving soul, and now he can be with his lady Julie again. So long, old friend, thanks for your loving support. I appreciate it more than I could ever express.
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