Playing The Anchor’s Bend in Asbury Park

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Photo: Paul Leonardo

With the car jammed to the gills we made our way down the highway. It was a great ride. Cool night. Held my sweetheart’s hand, baby asleep in the back. Everything was breezy.

Crashed at the folk’s place and arose Saturday to coffee and chit chat before I headed over to Asbury Park. Some family and friends came by.

Now the way these bar gigs work is you’ve really got to read your crowd. You try a little this, you try a little that. And a few stabs you usually see what is making the girls sway or the guys nod their heads. And there’s your in. The first crowd liked country, but the second wanted soul. Things derailed during the third set when I started taking requests. Too many Beatles. The death knell came with a Hall & Oates request and I simply had to take the show back at that point. It’s a dance of sorts.

Sunday was spent kind of milling about the boardwalk. The girls picked up some jewelry, the boys destroyed a mannequin. After a bite at Porta Pizza we headed home to pack up.

I paused for a few seconds in the backyard. The evening air was cool, I could smell the beach. The seagulls sang a note or two. I could see into the next door neighbors house–they were gathered around a table, having some laughs in the warm glow of the dining room. I had to take stock. It was a moment.

Got in the car and took off. The drive home was quiet. We were tired. But it was nice to arrive home. There was a Monday looming.