Looking for Willie

There is a small bar one mile down the street from me in the town of Paia called "Charley's." Charley's is owned by Willie Nelson's son who I am led to believe has a dog named "Charley." Other things I know about this bar include; great Tuesday Tacos, small venue for local bands, people get in fights in the back. What I didn't know about this bar, up until last week, was that it would set the stage for one of the big disappointments of my life.

Some historical information…

The first tape I ever owned as a child was Dire Straights, Sultans of Swing. But this is not a story about the first tape I ever owned. This is a story about the second tape I ever owned; Willie Nelson, Always on My Mind. I think my mom passed these tapes on to me as a wee child so I would have something to put in my Fisher Price Tape Player and Recorder. I remember using the microphone (attached to the aforementioned cassette player) and crooning along with Willie. I didn't know what we were singing about nor did I know most of the words but I knew that I liked it.

There is nothing like the songs of your youth. They serve as memories of simpler times, innocence and wonder. As Willie and I sang together an attachment was formed, a singular bond that has forever entwined his music and voice to all that is good in my world.

So you can imagine my excitement when Willie decides to put on a surprise performance at the local bar "Charley's" to promote his new album. We find out about it 10 am the day of the show and it is all I can do to stay in the office and complete my work. I feel like a child who is about to go to Disneyland. I feel giddy and anxious all at the same time.

Then something goes wrong. A family session I have scheduled becomes postponed due to a client crisis and I find myself sitting with my clinical director and the family when I should be in line getting my bracelet to see Willie. As the family discusses their perceived horrors of their teenager's future I am struggling with my own future horror... I am going to miss Willie. It was not my finest therapeutic hour I must admit.

I close the family session and jump in the rig to get to the bar. I get my place in line just as the bouncer comes out to announce that there is no more space. My heart sinks. "Willie…" the sad moan escapes my lips.

At home I watch as my roommate and her boyfriend prepare to go back to the bar to see Willie. (They were able to get bracelets earlier on.) I sit on the couch and watch them. My roommate can't name one Willie Nelson song and it is all I can do to not kill her. As I contemplate homicide or suicide my neighbor comes over.

"Casselle," he says reassuringly, "It is a small island. Willie lives down the street. You will see him again and it will be a lot more meaningful than seeing him in a jam packed bar."

The clouds began to lift. New thoughts and fantasies began to take hold. I could run into him at the beach, the grocery store, the gym (does Willie workout?). All the spots of my little town began to be filtered through my brain as possible opportunities to meet Willie. Maybe he likes Duck Tacos on Wednesday nights at Café Mambo or maybe he enjoys the rope swing down at Paia Bay. Where else could he be?

As I dazed off into my new stalker fantasy land my neighbor invited me over for steak dinner and a showing of Uncle Buck. Afterwards, with a filled belly of food and laughter I wandered back home and as I laid myself down to rest I made a promise to myself; "I will find Willie. Oh yes, I will find Willie."

One of these weeks I look forward to informing you all of my Willie meeting.
Stay tuned…