Butch Walker Live, Chicago, December 31, 2012

Incredible tweet today:  Butch plans to party hearty in Chicago on New Year's Eve!  Do plan to buy a couple of tickets, although, really, who will go with me?  New Year's Eve is so fraught with issues for most people, even usually normal people get weird about that day.  But, the hope is that it could mean there will be a few other dates for Butch.  Fingers really crossed! 

Been a full, emotional day--not just the Butch show announcement (lol)--and hope to lay low for the evening recuperating.  Played a lot of Chicago, Bob Seger, Rod Stewart, the Rolling Stones to and from and while at the cemetery.  Always think it works out well that there are rarely any other visitors since the music is so loud.  Just the way Jimmy liked it.  Was thinking about my one chance to hear Buddy Guy when he opened for the Rolling Stones at the Compaq Center--great concert, btw.  Couldn't beat the Compaq Center as a rock concert venue, not too big, not too small.  You always left the concert deaf and you wouldn't hear clearly for at least the rest of the night.  The Stones killed it that night, all the hits, of course, and they did a thing where people had voted online for some golden oldie.  I desperately wanted to hear Under My Thumb, and YES, they played it.  About halfway through the show, they walked down the center aisle from the main stage to the small stage very close to our seats (we were just behind the sound booth).  Jimmy had been complaining about the seats (they weren't obstructed view, but he wanted to be closer to the front) but almost right away, he became buds with one of the guys in the sound booth, asking questions about the Stones and any insider information the guy could give him.  He gave Jimmy his copy of the play list on Rolling Stones Bridges to Babylon tour letterhead.  Telling you, Jimmy could talk to anybody.  Plus, the Stones were so close, just like they were performing for us.  The sound guy kept saying:  what do you think of the seats now?

Anyway, they announce Buddy Guy and Jimmy says:  let's go walking around in the lobby--can't stand the blues.  The way he looked at it, life already had its lows, why listen to music that wallowed in them.  Really great outlook on life, I thought.  So I never got to hear Buddy Guy, just came really close.  I still have the tshirt he insisted on buying me.

Of course, one of the coolest things about that concert is that Jimmy hit the pick-3 that night, $4000, and we came back the next night so he could buy the tour jacket--like a football letterman's jacket--the hoodie, sweatpants, whatever else they had.  That jacket was a hit whenever he wore it.  Still looked great when it was displayed at the funeral, too.  We often tell stories about Jimmy when the family is together; I get to tell this one and everyone loves it.  Jimmy is the star of the story and as usual, without really being obvious or trying too hard, he comes out the winner, getting way more that he had even hoped for, just being himself.

Jimmy Rendon, August 23, 1952-October 10, 2005

For the past 7 years, October 10 has been a tough day.  I miss my brother Jimmy--he called pretty much every day and I saw him two or three times a week.  He read the entire newspaper every day, so he usually had a story or remark about something we had in common or something he knew I would be interested in:  Boston, the Beatles, Gata, UH, going to see Grand Funk if they ever came to Houston, etc.  And what a personality!  He filled up the room, wherever he was.  He was always so open to the possibility of the future.  As so often the case with us, I was usually the gloom and doom character in the script, he was always working on the "sure, things could be better, but living now sure beats the alternative" and the best thing was to keep a positive outlook.   Funny how you think things will always be the same and all your family will always be there.  It wasn't till after that awful bright, sunny, hot day when he was gone all of the sudden, so unexpectedly, that I realized how much he meant to me, my self-esteem, how much he loved and respected me.  We spend so much time being self-absorbed, missing out on what's right next to us.

One of Butch Walker's songs  reminded me of Jimmy the other day:  I passed your place, there was no car, I thought of you. 

Of course, Jimmy wouldn't want me to be sad.  He wouldn't mind me thinking of him, some of the memorable events we shared, the good and the weird, ups and downs, but he would much prefer to be thought of in the words of one of his favorites, Rod Stewart:  Forever young.




Always the sharp dressed man


So, let's drink one, or more, in his memory today.  He didn't know the expression carpe diem, but he certainly lived that way.  I'm so glad he did.  Love you, brother!