Rekindling the Music of Friendship

 

            The memory hadn’t flashed across my mind’s eye in three decades, yet here it was in sharp focus and brilliant Kodachrome color.

 

The year was 1975 and the yellow VW Bug was already old and the summer was hot and here’s the thing I most remember all these years later: There was no way to turn off the heater in my friend Jim’s car.

 

            Even with the windows rolled down we simmered like astronauts inside an Apollo capsule during re-entry with the heat shield glowing red-hot.

 

 

            You remember funny things, like this: getting ice cream cones after a practice session and coming out to find Jim had locked the keys in the VW. We borrowed a coat hanger from the nearby dry cleaners and, as the ice cream melted, took turns trying to break in.

 

The next time it happened, which it did, we ate our ice cream first.

 

I can’t tell you what songs played on Jim’s car radio that summer, but my guess is they included Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Lodi” and “Motherless Child” by Eric Clapton and “Blue Sky” by The Allman Brothers Band and Paul Simon’s “Diamonds on the Soles” and “Can’t You See” by The Marshall Tucker Band.

 

I say this because those were all on the play list by The James Broz. Band on a recent August night inside a Ventura Harbor venue not much roomier than Jim’s VW Bug, although thankfully, much cooler.

 

The James Broz. Band is not brothers but rather a father and son – Jim and James Wolff. Actually, Jim goes by J.D. now, which keeps tripping me up.

 

Until last weekend, I believe I had seen Jim – I mean, J.D. – only twice in the past quarter-century. Both times he was playing drums in bands at large charity gatherings so we were unable to catch up.

 

(J.D. will join The Bryan Bros. Band for a few songs at Mike and Bob Bryan’s annual All-Star Tennis Festival fundraiser on Sept. 27 at Spanish Hills Country Club. Visit www.bbtennisfest.com for information.)

 

One of the great things about social media is its ability to reconnect lost friends. Through Facebook, I learned about the two-man James Gang’s small gig and showed up. I am so glad I did.

 

J.D. is as talented with guitar strings as he was with strings in a tennis racket and his son is no less musically gifted. Between songs J.D. kindly gave me a shout-out, although in the intimate gathering shouting was not required.

 

“I want to thank my ol’ friend Greg for coming out,” Jim said, using my given name before quickly adding: “I mean, Woody.”

 

There was no need for the correction – he’s grandfathered in.

 

Between sets we got to visit and it was like a time portal. Jim’s laugh is as unchanged as his fingerprints and I was reminded of a quote by the writer E.B. White: “I’ve never been able to shed the mental image I have of myself – a lad of about nineteen.”

 

For me, make that about 15.

 

Now in our 50s but both of us dressed like teens in jeans and flip-flops, Jim and I learned our sons have been to Africa on humanitarian sojourns and we each have a remarkable daughter and an amazing wife. I wanted to know more about his music; he wanted to talk about my new memoir.

 

We promised to get together, and soon, and we will.

 

Moments earlier Jim had sung Bob Dylan’s “My Back Pages” with the quintessential lyric, “Ah, but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.”

 

Ah, we were so much younger then in that VW sauna, but that’s all right because it takes a long time to grow an old friend.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available for pre-order at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.