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Iwas in from Chicago visiting
my older sister and her family. They had plenty of room in their
house, a strange one it was, dark and private, but filled with
the laughter and the optimism of children. It was just what I
needed to escape the debauchery of my everyday world for a bit,
at least the business side of it. The pitfalls of my job were
numerous but I was doing what I loved, and I was a millionaire.
I would do this work for free but had to watch my back; people
whom I believed in took what they wanted from me, and if I refused
to give it, they tried to destroy me, my good name, by printing
lies about me.
Trust very few in the industry I would tell aspirants.
I’ve
come across some dangerous people, and many of my friends are
celebrities. I have visited different countries and met many
amazing persons. There are plenty of people overseas who love
America, for if not, I never could have the success I do over
there, considering my job. I am an American rock star.
In Paris they respect my privacy. I can have
a cup of coffee in a normal café and not be disturbed. In Germany people
will wave to me and offer great big smiles before making me chuckle
during their rendition of my latest hit. Interesting how my songs
sound translated into German. And Italy…Japan…I am
an ambassador for my country and bring my goodwill to everyone
I meet.
Not many people know what my real name is, and
I’d like
to keep it that way for the sake of my family back home. I’ve
had to deal with lies printed about me in newspapers, and a broken
home-life. My career was taking its toll. I was tired and needed
a break. My voice needed a break.
My
sister Claire and I were close, the closest of all of us siblings.
Claire and her husband Noah had three sweet little
daughters. One day they begged me, Uncle Abe (not my stage name—did
you really think my nieces would use that?) to take them to the
ice-cream store. We walked because it was only three blocks away.
The sun was shining, but I wore dark clothes. Hey, black suits
me.
My eldest niece, Faith, looked up at me smiling
as we walked. “Uncle
Abe?” she asked, “Why are you wearing those dark
sunglasses?”
I looked at her and smiled back. I’d give
a response that I hoped she would accept and not question further.
“Because sweetheart, I’m so ugly that I don’t
want to scare people away.”
The three girls rolled with laughter, and I
joined them. It had been a joke, but it worked. I looked around.
It wasn’t
Chicago, but there were certain things that the two cities had
in common. For example, people dressed the same here and there,
and in Europe, for that matter! Bell-bottoms were everywhere,
so were plat-form shoes, and people wore their hair long. A VW
bug passed by, and a song from Saturday Night Fever played within,
a Bee Gees’ tune.
A Star Wars poster hung in a shop window. One of my nieces
was carrying a wonder woman doll in her hand. A van drove by
playing a new Stones melody. It reminded me of the time I showed
Keith Richards around New York.
The four of us now stopped at an intersection waiting to cross
the busy street. Another car pulled up, a pinto, with its windows
down. We could hear music, and I smiled. Faith looked up at me
happily with innocent blue eyes.
“That’s your song, Uncle Abe! Let’s
hurry and get home. I want to practice piano.”
I gazed at her in sad pride. She was looking
at me with big, pure, and hopeful eyes. I sighed. There was
only so much a person
could tell a young child. I could only hope that she wouldn’t
someday be betrayed the way I was. But after my vacation, I would
return to that world, dodging the trouble-makers and reaching
out to decent people all over the world who liked American rock
and roll music.
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