Welcome to Day 13! Yes, that’s “lucky 13” for all of us, as we just cracked the two-week mark.
As for today, you may recall me mentioning a wedding I attended in October. Yeah, that wedding in a suburban neighborhood outside of Chicago that took place on a perfect early fall afternoon.
All the ingredients for a fun celebration were in place: a classy and sentimental exchanging of the vows, a cool venue, a great-looking couple, a dynamic and equally raucous wedding party and yes, even a handsome Greyhound serving as the ring bearer.
After the cocktail hour and dinner, the band started up, immediately getting the guests into things. The five-piece ensemble had a “funk” vibe of sorts and the dance floor quickly filled up with people.
The more they played, the louder it got, with old dudes like yours truly sweating though dress shirts, aided by the unseasonably warm temperatures.
After a while the band announced its take-five break and then the real fun started.
Initially, I’m not sure anyone really knew what was happening.
I mean it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the band had announced their break, right?
And there’s certainly a vast difference between in-between-sets Muzak and loud reverberating guitar hits, right??
Nope, this was not the sound of any Muzak I’d ever heard.
For me, one of the true hallmarks of music has got to be the thrill of the unexpected. Sure, we go to live performances and raves that feature our favorite recording artists because we love being there. And we use modern conveniences like Sirius XM Radio, Spotify and TikTok to entertain and lift us when we need it. We might even search for certain selections by Stevie Wonder, songs created with what are known as 13th chords, adding complexity and emotional depth, creating almost a dreamy quality.
But when it comes to musical surprises, what happened next is just too good to keep to myself.
To briefly take a step back, that lively musical note we’d all heard was just that – nothing prerecorded about it. And to my complete surprise (and no doubt to the lion’s share of the other wedding guests), the guitar lick was delivered by one of the wedding party’s groomsman. Having shed his tuxedo jacket and tie, he came charging up to the corner of the tiny stage, leaping and dancing and blasting some familiar-sounding chords.
Then another guy stormed onto the small stage, bass guitar in hand, followed by a drummer who quickly took his spot and started keeping the beat. And if that wasn’t enough, how about an appearance by the groom, taking his place at the electric organ, some combination of the late great Del Shannon and Harold Faltermeyer. (If you don’t know either of those names, you owe it to yourself to check them out.)
Anyway, the makeshift foursome started blasting out an old hit by the Kinks, then followed it up with a variation of some other rock and roll staples, ending with an inspired version of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
Pretty cool, right?
Well then, you’re ‘gonna really love this…
The groom/keyboard player (the youngest son of a close friend) is an anesthesiologist by trade. And that lead guitarist? (Yeah, that’s the guy whose energy level would make the likes of George Thorogood green with envy.) It seems that he’s an oncologist.
The bassist, an orthopedic surgeon, rounded out the medical triumvirate, with their childhood buddy, the drummer, though not a doc, turned out to be a graduate of my alma mater.
For those of you who don’t know me well, I graduated from the University of Richmond, Richmond, VA. And while the student body is represented by a lot of different states, if I were a betting man, I wouldn’t count on running into a fellow UR Spider at a wedding in suburban Chicago.
Oh and the oncologist? No bullshit, he was/is a Richmond Spider, too.
Look, I get it that the world is surely one heartbreaking and often scary place, but nights like that one somehow remind us that such unexpected surprises and the weird circumstances that go along with them do bring us joy.
Catch up with you all tomorrow.
JFish
@Copyright 2024 by John L. Fischer