(from an email to Jennifer and Jill—Oct. 8, 2002)
Oh, man-- this is funny. Last night, I actually kind of had dinner with Victoria Williams!
my moment. The time came, and I basically schmoozed my way into her presence and ended up escorting her to a nearby chinese jernt and sitting and chatting with her while she sucked down some hot and sour soup. Just me and Vic. She was mighty funny in a "bless her heart" kinda way.
For instance, she got some tea. It was about to be served up in a styrofoam cup, and she politely and somewhat anxiously smiled and asked if there was another kind of cup. The owner—an Asian gentleman who was almost certainly perplexed by this request— said that was all they had. But she coaxed him into letting her use his personal ceramic mug, volunteering to wash it in exchange for the privilege.
Kind of a dream come true really, you know, as fan boy moments go. She was exactly how I imagined her to be: Sweet; more than a little dizzy; kind and courteous to all around her. An authentic person. She and husband musician Mark Olson live in the Mojave Desert. Also, neither she nor Mark seem fond of hair brushing.
The Harmony Ridge Creekdippers played on the Woodsongs Radio Hour. They did some cool stuff, including "Moon River" and before the last song she said "I said I'd play a request for somebody" and played "Love." That would be a request for ME. :-) I asked her, as we were leaving the chinese joint if she'd play a song for me.
a couple of addendums:
- After the soup and before the show, I dropped her off at the dressing room, and she said, "thanks, Mitch" and I gently corrected her and that led to one of my favorite party questions: "When people get your name wrong, what are the most popular variations?" Then I backed up, thinking out loud: "Oh, maybe that doesn't happen to you, since you're kind of a celebrity. <duh>" Anyway, she laughed and said people got her name wrong all the time, but truth be told, I was so happy to have gotten a laugh out of her, that I didn't hear what she said. 20 minutes later, Michael Johnathan, that stooge, calls her "Victoria Wilson," into a live mic, not once, not twice, but thrice
- Lucy and I had barely been going out for any time at all at this point. And when I called her in a delighted panic to let her know that Victoria Williams was in town and I was going on a special errand to get soy milk for her, Faced with this side of my personality, Lucy was the portrait of well concealed trepidation. To this day Lucy insists, of VW: "She thought you were a stalker." I have a picture of Vic and I that Lucy took and—okay— she does have a strange look on her face. Like, maybe she thought I was a stalker.