A Message from More Than Just a Fan

A Message From More Than Just a Fan

           Well, last night’s concert of the Wholly Tearers is now over, and it is the morning after.  It is time for me to clean up the mess left by the roaring fans. And because it was a loud rock band, and alcohol was sold by the plastic cup, I have to do a lot of cleaning. The big broom and I will be doing a lot of dancing together this morning. I shouldn’t really complain, though. I got to hear and see a great concert put on by one of my favourite bands, and I did not have to buy a ticket to enjoy the show because I work here, and get paid to do this work. 

           I take my time doing the cleaning. There is no hurry.  No one will be here to watch me work, or know when I will finish. I could take all day, especially as the band, would tear paper up at the beginning of each set, and encouraged their fans to bring paper to the gig and do likewise. I brought a few sheets of paper and added to the mess that I would have to clean up.  And I have made up a couple of games to make my job of cleaning more enjoyable. One of the games is garbage basketball. I take ten pieces of garbage, scrunch them up as much as possible into some kind of nearness to the shape of a ball, and take foul shots with them into the nearest garbage can (which I have removed the lid off of). My distance is ten paces, and my goal is to have at least five of the garbage balls hit the target. I am getting skilled at doing this, so I usually reach my intended goal. I haven’t yet achieved a perfect ten for ten, but I am confident that that will someday happen at some point.

           As I picked up the garbage for this round, I saw something unusual for the type of garbage that you find after a rock concert. It was already in a bin, but it would make a great garbage basketball. It wasn’t a plastic cup, or the wrappings from chocolate bars or other fast foods. It was a rather large piece of paper that had already been crumpled up. When I picked it up, I saw that there was something different about it. There was writing on it, on both sides.. I thought that was strange but interesting. I sat down in a third row seat to read what the writer had to say.

The Letter

           “Dear Guy

           There is something that I need to say to you. I have heard interviews with you in which you talk about how your family had broken up when you were just a child of ten. Your story seemed familiar to me, as I came from a broken home as well, and from the same city. You said that you had lost not only your parents, but also two brothers and a sister. I was in a similar situation. I lost not only my parents but an older brother as well.

           Well tonight I learned something else about you as well, something special. You dedicated a song to your mother, whom you said was very important to you, even though she had completely disappeared from your life when you were a small child. You said that her name was Ethel, and the last time you saw her was 24 years ago, in your home on 25 Chanter Lane in this city. I had never heard you say that before.

           Your dedication hit me like a power chord. I was named Ethel after my mother, and the little I know about the house I lived in was that it was also on Chanter Lane. I think that I am your sister.

           Screw this! You will just think that I am just cooking up a story so that I can meet you and get your autograph. I would not get a chance to hand this paper to you anyway once your show is done. I am just going to scrap this paper. Forget it. Tear it in two, like you guys do. Nah, I’ll just crumble it up.”

A Plan of Action

           I had to read the note twice to truly understand what was being said here. I have to do something. But what can I do?

           Then I thought. I know which hotel the band is staying in. With any luck, they will still be in their room, not getting up early after rocking until one o’clock in the morning. It is eleven something now. I should have enough time to get the note to Guy. No one is going to check up on me and my cleaning job anyway, not until well into the afternoon.

The Plan for the Hotel

           I am at the hotel now. How am I going to convince the person at the desk that it is very important that I go to the room where the band is staying. That person will probably have been given specific instructions not to let anyone ‘disturb the band’.

           I’ve got it now. Here I go. Look out desk clerk, I am going to put on a performance.

           “Hello. How are you today sir? I come bringing good news for my boys, the Wholly Tearers. We’ve got a television interview, but we’ve got to hurry. I know that they won’t answer the phone if I call them. Tell me what room they are staying in, and I will give them the good news, and get them moving.

           I get the room number and scramble for the elevator. I am glad now that I am doing this.

I knock hard and often, and finally someone answers the door. It’s Guy, and he has a grumpy look on his face. I can’t believe that he is wearing pajamas with little black bears on them. He’s lucky that I am not from the newspaper, camera in hand.

           “Hello, Guy. I have got something I want to show you that I think you’ll want to read.”

           I hold the paper out to him, and he snatches it from my hand. I hope he does not live up to the name of the band. But his mood changes when he reads the message his sister sent him.

He looks near tears.

           On the television interview later that day (I didn’t make that part of my story up), Guy tells the interviewer that he has a message that he very much wants to send to someone special.