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Steve Frye's avatar

It was a direct hit.

Our musician son from Chicago was to perform here in St. Louis on the same night you were at the Fox. While it wasn't a difficult decision, it was a painful one. His show was at the Sinkhole, a not so fabulous venue, but appropriate for the niche of music. He did well. It was good to see him.

It was good to see you as well, albeit a couple days later, via Mandolin.

For what it's worth, I'm the old goat that was in row D at the Fox in June of '16. You read aloud the note my wife Ellen crafted from our children, as a celebration of Father's Day...Make hay while the sun shines, you can't catch if you don't cast, worry is a waste of imagination and most of life is no hill for a climber. Goofy dadism's that I'd hoped might help our children navigate life. I recall you tucked the note into the pocket of your seersucker jacket. My heart leapt. After years of being on the receiving end of our cerebral relationship, perhaps I was able to offer something to you.

As we age, we seem to become a reduction sauce of ourselves. Yours is a beautiful roux, seemingly absent of the burden that comes with caring for things that simply don't deserve the attention.

A heartfelt thanks for years of inspiring entertainment.

Steve

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T Dea Dea Robertson-Gutierrez's avatar

Re: “I cannot hear John Wayne say, “I’d like a double latte.”

Originally that's my joke. I am sure of that, except that isn't the way I told it. Besides, I don't know how it got out there. Yet, I am glad it did. So—here's how I told it the first time:

I cannot hear John Wayne say, “Make mine a double latte, pilgrim," while he's standing at the bar.

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