Built in 1914, the former vaudeville Hippodrome theater in Baltimore had the old world aire of great performances within it’s walls. As I found my seat near the top, I saw I was stage front center. The perfect seat for an acoustic evening of Jackson Browne’s music.

As I sat down, the elderly woman to my left starts the usual conversation with me. She regales me with stories of how she has followed Jackson since his early days in Laurel Canyon, how she has met him a few times, and what songs she hopes to hear tonight.
I smile and engage, telling her of my love of music, and some of the shows I’ve seen this year. She returns with a delightful tale of Beatlemania, seeing that group at Shea stadium in the 1960’s. Her husband smiles with crooked teeth and flicks his long, gray hair back, laughing about his “flower power” wife.
As Jackson comes on stage, he lets us know that there will not be a set list for tonight’s performance. Instead he will just play what he feels, but encourages the audience to shout out their favorites. Immediately my new friend stands and raising both hands to her mouth, screams out the song she wants to hear.
Her wish was fulfilled, as was mine. “Here” is my favorite song of the evening.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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