I’m listening to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn on audiotape while helping a friend clean her house. It’s the part toward the end where Huck is deciding what to do about Jim, Miss Watson’s runaway slave. Huck and Jim have been rafting down the Mississippi for weeks now — Huck trying to escape his drunken Pa; Jim trying to find freedom — only they keep running into trouble. This time, a couple of vagrants have kidnapped Jim and sold him to Mr. Phelps, a local farmer, and now, Huck is confused: Should he do what’s “right” (and what he “shoulda done all along”) and tell Miss Watson where Jim is and thus betray his friend? Or, should he listen to his heart . . . ? Continue reading
Some people were made for this.
Last Thursday, I had the privilege of listening to a legend. B.B. King was performing at the Fox Theater in Oakland, and, knowing it was my birthday, a friend invited me to go. I hadn’t been to a concert in years. How could I say no?
I made the right choice.
“Thank you. Thank you. You’re too kiiind,” said King as he entered to a standing ovation, waving, from stage left. His voice was rich and deep. It went well with his glittering jacket.
“It’s good to be here . . . Oakland. Oakland, California. I’ve got stories about Oakland.” King sounded mischievous as he sat down on a chair at center stage. “But . . . Well. I’ll save those for a-nother time.”
The audience laughed. I was amazed by his stage presence. It was as though he’d been in the spotlight all his life.
. . .
“I’m eighty-seven.” The audience erupted into applause. “Eighty-seven! Can you believe that? . . . Now, you young folks: Don’t be goin’ ’round sayin’, ‘He’s eighty-seven younggg! B.B., you’re younggg!’ . . . No. Eighty-seven is olddd! I’m olddd!” Continue reading