Chasing Soul, and Heart

Homeward Bound

The final leg of our journey, my weary traveling companion.

On the flight home, we meet Dave, a Boston-based businessman who is looking into buying a restaurant that just happens to be right around the corner from us.

Dave is also a Dead Head, and a Phish Head (?). I have no idea what Phish fans call themselves. I know he’s a Dead Head, however, because at some point during our chat, Little Bean mentions that we’re on this trip as part of The Warning Army, following the band from city to city.

“Nice,” he says, “a dad flying out to see a band with his daughter. Good stuff.”

He understands. He says he’s seen his bands many times, even going to the Bahamas once to see them. He says seeing them at the Sphere in Vegas was a highlight.

“My 18 year old, he’s like an old music soul or something, loves old southern rock,” he says.

Little Bean hands him a The Warning button. Earlier she had given a flight attendant one and I notice now that she’s wearing it on her name tag. Two more people who have been warned.

Without my bringing her up, Dave says, “Too much music these days like Taylor Swift, is just, I don’t know…” He searches for the right word. “There’s no heart.”

I nod. Even though I have no opinion of Taylor Swift either way, plenty of Little Bean’s friends adore her and don’t understand why my daughter wears AC/DC shirts.

We’re on the last leg now. The kid hasn’t combed her hair in days and I think I’m wearing the same shirt I had on yesterday, or a couple days ago. I forget. This has been a ride.

Little Bean leans her head against my shoulder as the pilot announces we’ll be landing in Boston soon, and I take a deep breath.

“I collect buttons,” Dave says. “I don’t even know who this band is but just talking to you I think I’ll like them. Keep following them, with her. It’s worth it.”

I promise to. I also promise him that we’ll go and check out the restaurant that’s soon to be his.

We didn’t see the band this trip, but we did connect - with fans in Atlanta and Nashville, with historic places, with penguins and Coca-Cola and Bill Monroe, and with Dave.

And with each other. Our plane touches down and we file out into the Boston gloaming.

We’re coming home.