It was nearly 30 years ago he invited me up to his railroad apartment for Thai food and a beer. Summer in the city meant spicy food, usually ethnic. Recently the building had a fire and soot was everywhere.
I didn't know he'd pull out his guitar or that he was good.
He said it was a courting song. I think I probably blushed. I know I was smitten. I guessed this was how it would be forever.
In Maine five years later, out on Forest Avenue at the old road house where the liquor store now stands; I sat just about as pregnant as a girl can be and still go out listening to live music.
Corrina, Corrina where ya been so long?
Doc made me cry. Only my tears and my tapping foot moved freely. It was the perfect name for my new baby girl.
Doc Watson died yesterday at 89. He had known great love and great loss.
You could hear it in his pickin'.