“Hi friend.” Ernie, the morning cook at Papa Ray’s family restaurant in Centralia, greeted me as he slipped into my booth. “How is everything?” When Ernie sees me come in, he throws potatoes on the grill. I always order my fries “burnt black, burnt black, burned black … with a cut onion in them.” Ernie always complies, but he likes to make sure I get them the way I want them. “Perfect,” I said between crunchy graveyard-covered bites.

This particular morning, at the end of April, Ernie had news for me. We both share a love for music. Ernie scours thrift stores looking for rare “dishes.” I go to concerts. “I just found out there is going to be a concert in Seattle with Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Keb Mo.” It sounded like a weird pairing, but I like weird things. Ernie knows that in addition to well-made fries, I like Keb Mo and their Delta Blues.

As soon as I was able to connect, I started looking for the concert. I found zip. I continued searching for the next few days and then cursed Ernie for his misinformation and useless.

A week before the concert in late May I saw a listing in the Seattle paper for the concert at the Paramount. Ernie had been right and once again I was disappointed to lose information about concerts on the Internet. I tried to book tickets from the Paramount website (where previously there was no information), but got no response. The phone calls to Paramount only resulted in busy signals. My wife Peggy finally got tickets through touts at double the list price of $ 48.50 for the best seats. We had almost the same luck with the accommodation. We like to stay in Seattle when we go to concerts instead of driving back to our home in North Tacoma.

Peg called our favorite hotels. They were all full. There were several conventions in the city. He finally found a Bed & Breakfast, but they would only rent it to us if we stayed two nights. Later in the day after booking at the B&B we received the news that another place could accommodate us for Friday night, the night of the concert. We were surprised that they had a vacancy, especially after we checked into The Gaslight Inn.

We were upgraded to a very nice suite on the third floor of an old Capital Hill house. The suite is the third floor. The stairs get narrower and narrower as you go up from floor to floor. It was worth the climb. There is a picture window in the living room that overlooks Seattle. The furnishings are a nice mix of antiques and modernity. The kitchen came with tea bags, coffee, and a pint and a half in the fridge.

The Gaslight are actually two houses that sit next to each other. The main building has a nice pool that is the backyard. Our building had a parking lot as a backyard. I am not complaining. We could have used the pool. We use the parking lot.

Both houses had a lot of art, on the walls, on the furniture, and hanging from the ceiling. In our room there was a chandelier. It was made of wrought iron with a circular base. There were no real lights on it. There was a round piece of clear glass with three pieces of overlapping hand-blown glass plates placed at the base. Ceiling spotlights shown through glass art. Other pieces of hand-blown glass (matching) are found everywhere.

If you’re going to attend a concert in Seattle, you just have to eat in Seattle. We had dinner at the Desert Fire. We were short on time, so we only ordered an appetizer plate. We’ve had it before so we knew it would be enough. It was served quickly. We ate and rushed to the concert.

The concert was a benefit for the Songbird Foundation. Forests in Central and South America are being cut down. Some of our local songbirds spend the winter in Brazil. Without their habitat, we can lose songbirds. Forests are being cut down so that coffee can be grown. The best coffee is grown in the shade, but of course you can get a better yield by growing coffee in the sun. We can save songbirds by drinking shade-grown coffee. Voting with your cup. That’s my kind of support.

The concert was one of the best concerts Peg and I have ever attended. The atmosphere was relaxed, fun, and spontaneous. Keb Mo (Kevin Moore) was featured early before the hands on stage had the microphones and bleachers installed. Kevin stepped out and began speaking into a microphone that was pulled out from under him. He went on to the next one and said, “Usually they just tell me to step aside.”

Almost everyone performed accompanied solely by their own guitar. Rather than sounding hollow with the lack of background singers and instrumentation, the music took on a homey feel. It felt like the artists were good friends who stopped by not to entertain, but to share their music. The concert felt comfortable. At one point, Bonnie mentioned that she had changed the lyrics of a song. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he ran off the stage. He came back a few seconds later and explained that even though he is in his fifties, he does not need glasses. She set the letter on the floor about five feet in front of her and sat down in front of an electric piano.

Near the end, everyone joined in. Bonnie called for Kevin to sing even though he didn’t know the song. Then Bonnie had Jackson take a verse that began, “When I was a girl.” Both the crowd and the performers were enjoying themselves. My favorite song was made by Keb Mo. It was “Victim of Comfort”. Aren’t we all?

The music was wonderful. The concert was fun. I owe Ernie an apology and my thanks. Next time I order fries I’ll make sure I get a decent tip, if they’re “burnt black, burnt black, burnt black … with a cut onion in them.”