Willie Nelson didn’t show up. Ed did. At 4:30 p.m. on Friday, June 21, 2024, the Amerius Bank Amphitheater in Alpharetta, Georgia, will be 87 degrees with humidity in the 70s. Our party of four sits in the handicapped row at the back of the venue, accommodating 12,000 people, seven thousand under one roof. It’s Miss Junie’s birthday present. Jennifer, her sister, and my wife, Kay, accompany her. The birthday girl will hold out for all six hours’ worth of performances. We’ve all agreed this could be the last opportunity to see Willie Nelson, age 91. Unfortunately, and to our chagrin, Willie reports sick. He’ll surely recover somewhere down the road. Still, we are troopers, and the birthday girl is determined to listen to some music. Willie’s son Lucas will perform the Red-headed Stranger’s classic medley. In the meantime, we will hear Allison Krauss, Robert Plant, and Bob Dylan. I will miss Willie, but I will make a new friend. As an ambivert, a personality who can balance being an introvert and an extrovert when needed, I introduce myself to Ed from Orlando. We will sit together for six hours, and I would like to get to know my neighbor in seat 24 of the handicapped section. Ed is a concert afficando. This is his 71st concert. He came to see Robert Plant specifically and is sorry for me that Willie didn’t make it. He explains that he became friends with a record store owner in the 1970s. That fellow’s goodwill and generosity allowed him to see many performers over the past half-century, including many backstage passes. Ed’s carrying quite a few extra pounds and, as a former college center on the University of Virginia’s football team, has bad knees. He has only partial vision in his left eye. Diabetes is taking its toll. His full head of black hair shows no signs of gray for a man 72 years old. His voice is full yet soft. And as we introduce ourselves, his face brightens when I say, “My name’s Darryl.” Ed and his best friend, Darryl, have been business partners for 50 years. He’s proud of that. They both attended UVA and met right out of school in Orlando on a beach, doing what college kids do at 22. Darryl is a business major. Ed is an engineer. Together, they service apartment maintenance for over a dozen large clients along the East and Southeast Coasts. We talk about crises and the management of such as we wait. Ed’s had two wives. The first, the mother of his two children, died from lung cancer. She smoked until the day she died in hospice. I know little of his second wife. I meet his friend Sharon, who accompanies him to help him move his walker around, keep him hydrated, and chauffeur him. I learned he’s proud of his daughter in Macon, who has made a good living in the competitive telemarketing field. His son, at 40 plus, is still trying to find his way. Out of respect for each performer, as they come on stage to do their gig, Ed struggles to stand and clap and even hoot now and then. I ensure his seat remains grounded as he returns to the folding chair. Sharon looks toward me each time I reach for his chair. Ed’s thrilled with the Plant-Krauss performance and tells me he has been backstage with Plant several times. “He loves to perform,” Ed says, “and loves his fans. He’s had some tragedy in his life.” He looks at me when he speaks, and I see the remains of tragedy in his eyes. We all have had some to reflect upon. I concur with Ed’s opinion about the Plant-Krauss gig. It is exceptional. Later, we will both agree Lucas’s daddy must be mighty proud of his son. Close your eyes, and you can hear his daddy, Willie, back in the heady days of the 1960s, when Willie wore a sports coat and tie. As things begin to wrap, Ed turns to me, shakes my hand, and thanks me for the conversation. I just wanted to let you know that, he says, I return the thanks. He struggles to reach his walker; Sharon holds it firmly, looks at me, and smiles. It is that kind of smile, an understanding between people that this may be Ed’s last concert. I stand up to stretch, and as she passes by, she whispers, “Thanks.” I nod my head. We have an understanding.

Kay, Junie, “The Birthday Girl,” Jennifer