Oh crap, today I meet Jill Sobule. What kind of fool would I be? How would I screw this up? I’d find a way to have her look at me like I was crazy. I was sure of it. I had been helping Jill by being the administrator of her Facebook Musician site and her Street Team. I’d talked to her on the phone a lot but never met her. She called me and said she had something she wanted to give me. I stood outside the venue arguing with the guy at the door who kept repeating, “I don’t care what Jill Sobule told you. NO ONE gets in before seven.”
There was a flash of blonde hair behind him and red and blue stripes. A little pixie grabbed my hand, I took Kerry’s and we were beyond the looking glass.
“But...but...but...” a distant voice kept saying. I knew the rest. (We all know the rest.) There are rules. Yep. But Jill wasn’t playing by them. We past a big sign that read, “ABSOLUTELY No Photographs.” Jill winked at Kerry as Kerry took out a camera. ”Don’t play by their rules, Kerry.”
We went into the dressing room and she introduced me to a very sweet Erin McKeown. Next Jill kept thanking me for all I’d done for her. You’d think I was the star the way she treated me. Excited as a kid, she handed me a package. It was a painting she had bought of my favorite author Truman Capote. It was amazing and so sweet of her. Yet the truth is Truman Capote is now my second favorite writer. I was chatting with my favorite. Oh -- wow.
And then it happened. I screwed up. You knew I would, right? I looked down in horror. We were both wearing the same red and blue striped shirt. “Sorry, I should have called you,” I muttered.
“I’ll change!” she said. When she came out on stage, I gulped. She was in her Liza Cabaret outfit. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I too was wearing black fishnet stockings. Let’s keep that little secret to ourselves, okay? I am the king of unfortunate social faux pas.
Jeanne, Jill and Kerry She gave me two other gifts, but may not recall them. The second gift was sitting with my friends and watching their reactions to her songs. She sang “Somewhere in New Mexico” -- which she knew was my favorite song. Watching Tom laugh and gasp as the song danced around so many emotions was a thrill I wasn’t expecting. To see Kerry nod with recognition during “Strawberry Gloss”. Kerry was in seventh grade again and reliving every detail. It was so fun to hear Jeanne laugh at “Wendell Lee”. I felt so connected to them. No longer would I worry that I was boring them as I went on and on about that fabulous Jill Sobule. From this day onward they would get it. She was their hero now too. Hero? Hmmm, wait....
Erin, me and Jill
The third gift was that as good as the concert was (and it was the best that any of us had seen) as amazing as it was that I was pulled up on stage by Jill. (I got to hold her lyric sheet and Erin’s xylophone as they did Neil Diamond’s “Coming to America.”) The best gift of the night was the way she talked to my friends and I as if we’d all known her twenty years. We were just old friends hanging out and shooting the breeze.
It was wonderful to watch Jill after the show. She talked to everyone who wanted to chat. She signed everyone’s autograph. She stood for every photograph and encouraged them to take more. The charm and kindness she had at making everyone feel like long lost friends was amazing.
A few months ago I was listening to her music and reading her journal. I felt such a connection to someone I hadn’t even met. In the cold light of day, I knew how silly that was. I kept flattering myself in thinking we were kindred spirits. The first time I read her online journal was the moment that it hit me. She seemed to think and feel exactly like me. I remember thinking, “I’ve got to meet this woman!” And then I woke up. That would never happen. That’s the dream of a music geek who lies in bed thinking, “Man, someday I’m gonna be hanging out with Paul McCartney! He‘s gonna listen to everything I say and look at me like I matter.”
That was just a dream. I thought reality would be like what happened to my friend Tom, who finally got to meet Garrison Keiller. The man in the red shoes panicked when they made eye contact. Tom could see it in Garrison’s face. “Where the hell is security? Does this guy have a knife? Is he gonna leave his mark that way; in my chest?” It was the single most awkward encounter of Tom’s life... so far.
It is only in retrospect that I realize what an amazing gift Jill has. And she keeps giving it to everyone she meets. There have been times people have taken the gift of Jill’s friendship and tossed it right back at her. I know it has even made Jill cry to be rejected like that by someone she respects. People tell her to get a thick skin and not let it bug her. Yet it is what keeps her so open, friendly and willing to make contact: she has been on the other side. She knows just what it is like to have someone stare at her like she was crazy. But they aren’t going to beat Jill. She won’t become just another insensitive person who lets fear win and stops meeting people so openly -- just because it might hurt or it is a lot of trouble.“She so personable,“ Jeanne kept saying again and again, as if it was impossible that she was so open and warm. What planet did she come from? Surely not this one.
It is hard work. Very hard work. Kerry decided she didn’t want to be a rock star when she saw all the behind the scene crap: Jill is her own roadie, she sleeps in a van scrunched up in a bucket seat as they drive all night to the next gig. Laundry? When do they do laundry? She smelled fine. Fresh as a fucking daisy.
I gave Jill a pink bag that read “Girls Rock”. It was full of Pringles, M&Ms and Rice Krispies Bars. Stuff Jill mentioned she paid way too much for at the mini bar. It was quickly devoured by Jill and her friends who needed something before the long trip ahead.
“What a glamorous life,” I kidded.
“But the shows, meeting the fans,” she said, “it’s so much fun.”
Jill has to go through hell just to come alive and spend a few hours with her fans. Fans that may have come to see Erin. They didn’t know they were fans of Jill’s when they came to the show. They would find it out when Jill started playing. And then Jill would talk to them. And they won’t be her fans anymore. They would become her friends. Come to think of it, Jill doesn’t have fans. She has friends that she sings to and chats with. That’s what makes her so different. You can’t wait to hear from your buddy, Jill. A buddy that says the smartest, funniest things. I mention that I cook for Kerry (who being a student, can’t afford protein).
“He’s my meat provider!” Kerry said.
With a wonderfully dirty laugh, Jill smirked at Kerry.
“Well, like a boyfriend, I mean,” Kerry added.
“Same thing!” Jill said.
Kerry was so afraid that she’d make a fool of herself in front of Jill. I told her Jill would completely understand her. “It’s so much fun to be with all these people who don’t look at me like I’m strange,” Kerry sighed.
“I’m really strange too,” Jill said, “but now I’m making a living at it.”
Kerry and I went back to Jeanne’s place. After playing with Jeanne’s beloved cat, Pete, we crashed on the floor. I can’t say I went to sleep. I didn’t sleep a wink as the evening replayed itself over and over in my mind. It was as if my brain was saying “Wow -- that was the coolest night of your life. Remember every smell, taste and sound.” Funny things kept coming back: Jill dressed in jeans and a T-shirt after the show (but still wearing her Liza hat). Or how we stood outside after packing her van and talked.
My friend Tom was supposed to be at work at 4 AM the next day (with a long drive ahead of him) and was going to cut out early. It was almost midnight and he couldn’t leave, Jill was too interesting to talk to. She had noticed he was reading Stephen King’s “On Writing” and they started talking about it. Soon they were suggesting other books to each other.
We all had the feeling she was excited that we had stuck around to chat. We really felt like she didn’t want us to leave. That is such a good feeling to have. She wasn’t looking forward to a twenty-four hour drive to Seattle -- just her, Erin and the tour manager.
“They want me to drive THAT,” she said pointing to the scary behemoth. “I’m a crappy driver!”
“Tell them if they value their lives -- they won’t let you drive,” I suggested.
“You‘re right! I‘ll tell them that. I’m not driving!”
Suddenly, like a six-year-old after too much Mountain Dew, Jill started jumping and dancing on the black top. It was so sweet and enthusiastic. It was just a second, no one else may have noticed it -- but it sticks in my mind: the chill of the November air, the sound of her sneakers on pavement and dried leaves, the dolphin joy of jumping into the air just for the fun of it... just to celebrate.
Laying in the dark at Jeanne’s place, all I had was Jill's gift of the painting and a head full of stars. How could I sleep? I was still in a dream.
Thank you, Jill.
