Another Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street

[weiser <weiser@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Here's a little semi-fictional story I wrote to get your imagination going.
If you're not interested please, delete.


"Another Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street"
by Shar Weiser
copyright 2003

James Patrick "Jimmy" Page shifted uncomfortably
in the padded seat of a black Mercedes SUV.
Looking out the window into the endless shades
of browns and grays that color Manhattan he tried to
remember what it was like to play with all three
of his band members. For some reason,
the fog of time barred his visions, briefly.
Then he remembered. He should remember, he'd been looking
at old footage for days on end trying to get something decent put together out 
of the 
mishmash of materials.
Now it was over, and he kept telling himself he felt good about it and it a way 
he did.
Sometimes he wished they had a film crew everywhere they'd played, but then 
that could 
have had its drawbacks and he certainly would not have been able to convince 
Atlantic Records to foot the bill for that. Why they'd even had to... oops he 
reminded 
himself, best not think about some of the antics from the past.
He'd gone through a tiny private hell buying the materials to get his, 
correction he 
reminded himself, their, Led Zeppelin's DVD together. He'd spent endless hours
editing and re-editing footage to get everything just the
way he wanted. He'd asked for his other mate's opinons and 
received a notion of their hopes, their fears and most thankfully, their 
insights.
Like a weaver of a fine oriental, he had to make sure the colors matched and 
the broken 
threads fit in seamlessly.
This had to last for all time.
A strange sense of trust descended upon his mind for a moment. 

Robert Plant found himself in a Hummer, of all things
on his way to a brief meeting with Pagey and Jonesey.
He was irritated. The world never seemed to take a hint
and just drop the notion of the rock
band he'd sung for over twenty years ago. Somehow they were
stuck in a revolving door and couldn't 
get away from its endless circular motion without stumbling.
He found himself accidentally remembering a night when he'd reached out so far 
to grab a 
green stone ring from a girl who'd really stirred up an otherwise staid uptight 
crowd
that he'd nearly fallen right off the stage. Or maybe it was'nt the ring he'd 
been after.

Nevertheless, he'd moved on and they hadn't.
At least it was a few more quid in the bank and so there
was a bright bit of redemption. He chided himself and said, "It's for the 
music," because he
wanted to be totally diligent about applying his life path philosophy. A pretty 
thing in heels 
and a red dress with
long dark straight hair caught his eye and he sighed.
A little gleam glinted from his eyes as he mused briefly about inviting her 
into the Hummer 
and then he caught himself up short and gave himself a reminder that there were 
plenty out 
there and he had lots of time and a lady that was waiting for him, "Always," 
she'd said.

John Paul Jones was nervous, even though he
allowed himself the luxury of remembering some
of his best gigs. He really didn't want to be
mired in the past either.
He wondered what his life would have been like, if
he'd had it all to do over again. He remembered a spring evening long ago when 
his bass 
thundered through the air waves with total authority.
He'd felt like he and the rest of the
band had owned that night. Hadn't Bonzo
decked someone back at the hotel afterwards? That show could have gone on for 
two more hours, 
but the hall manager had turned the house lights on to shoo everyone out.

(end of part one of
"Another Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street")
Shar Weiser copyright 2003
(Some of the people in this are real, or they may think 
they are. Did they ever do this in the past or will they in the future, who 
knows?)