Should There Be A "Where's Steve?" Tour?

I step into the dark of early morning. I pause on the steps. Guilt has me in its grip. I should have made coffee for Rejeanne before going out to waste another day. I know that thoughts filled with should are nothing but illusions of how I think the world ought to operate – but they are persistent. I go back inside and check the coffee – there is almost a full pot from yesterday. I start to make a new pot because I should make fresh coffee for Rejeanne. Then I remember that Rejeanne actually prefers to be frugal and drink day old coffee. I leave my shoulds behind, make it to the car and head into town.

As I drive, I think of Adam Weinstein. Adam is on a roll just now. His art show went well and he is hearing encouraging buzz about his music from the west coast. There are rumors of a show and even a tour. Perhaps Adam will be able to live out his dream. That would be fantastic – at least part of me thinks so, the part that I want to reinforce and nurture, the part of me that knows that the only true joy in life comes from giving. But I would be less than honest if I were to say that there is not at least a small part of me that is jealous of Adam’s success. This part has been trying to help Adam “organize” things and give him “advice” as though he needs my help. He needs my friendship as all of us need friendship from each other, but as for “help” that is something for which only he can determine the need. Unasked for help is interference.

Yesterday I sent an email to help Adam organize things with a mutual friend. In the email I told the friend I would give him the copies of the tapes I made at Adam’s show. I did not ask for permission from Adam. I just assumed that it would be a good idea. I think part of me wanted to help but I think I may have wanted to insert myself between Adam and the mutual friend – to somehow take partial credit for Adam’s talent. Was I hoping that some of Adam’s luster would rub off on me? Did I have such a low opinion of myself that I thought I needed it? Perhaps. But I am better at catching this thinking than I used to be – better at minimizing the damage it can cause me and my relationships – at least some of the time.

I pull over and send Adam a text.

Have I upset you? Call me when you wake.

The phone rings minutes later. His voice is full of sleep.

“Hey. Want to go for breakfast?”

I laugh. “Sure. When?”

“I can be ready in a few minutes.”

We order breakfast at Perkins’. Way too much food filled with way too much fat and sugar. But it is what it is. We eat much of it in silence, both minds whirling, wondering what the future will bring if Adam does become famous. For a moment I envisage myself as a sober Hunter Thompson – following Adam’s band across the country, writing stories, blogs and reviews – finally rolling everything into a wonderful book that everyone will want to read. Another Rolling Stone in a country so obsessed with self-aggrandizement that it often loses all perspective. We are just naked apes after all. Why must we insist that our actions be seen as the most important, or the grandest creatures in the universe?

I smile at Adam. I don’t know what to say to be helpful. I don’t trust myself to be unselfish. Excitement is not my friend. But I must try. What other choice is there? Shall I give over entirely to my desire to play king of the hill, to become as Adam puts it, “The monkey with the most bananas?” I practice my breathing for a moment. The bill comes. Adam asks for permission as he reaches for it.

“Can I get this one?”

I smile. “Sure thing, buddy, sure thing.”

As I wait, I recall Steven – Steven Bock of Truth and Janey and Nowhere Fast. Steven was the only other famous and/or nearly famous musician I knew. He died this summer. He and Adam played together once, and Steven told me he was impressed. After the cancer took Steve, Adam and I went out west to leave a portion of his ashes in the Pacific. We met a friend of mine who knew a few people in the world of music. He and Adam hit it off very well…and as the movies put it, the rest was history.

Before his death, Steve and I had been working on a project that Steve called, The Where’s Steve Tour?- a dark bit of humor in the face of his impending death. Steve is gone now – any tour by Adam could certainly ask the question “Where’s Steve?” But perhaps, in some strange way, Steve’s dream is coming true posthumously. If Adam does ride a wave of success to fame and a national tour, I will imagine Steve watching and smiling, happy that the Where’s Steve Tour? came off at last. Steve will bear witness that the kindness Adam and I tried to do for him, yielded joy in world that is more about love and dreams than about guilt and should.