Flower Child

I love meeting new people. Not people that I would want to make friends with and keep close. I’m talking people that are jaded, weathered and have stories to tell. The kind that you meet in a bar at dusk, while drinking whiskey and tapping your foot to an old Dead tune. Talking about life, love and the pursuit of all things meaningful.

Saturday night, I went to The Cellar Bar in Larchmont to have a few pints with my Husband and my Sister-in-Law. After knocking back a few, I took my perch at the jukebox. The vibe in the bar felt a bit vintage. Kind of like a fragrant cedar chest full of memories for safe keeping. As I scanned the room, I saw faded tie dyed shirts, ripped jeans and strong drinks. The bartender was young and artsy, while the patrons were a cross between yuppies and hipsters, all looking for a good tune to strum their fingers to.

I started off with “Miss You” by the Rolling Stones, followed by some Heart, Steve Miller Band, Joe Cocker, Grateful Dead and Sublime. Once the tunes started flowing, the eyebrows raised and the frowns turned into smirks. Once or twice, I saw an old man lift his head to see who had picked “Scarlet Begonias.” I felt like I was channeling that same young hipster that I loved to be back in my festival days.

Once my last song, “Me & Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin came on the jukebox, a woman in her late fifties jumped off her chair and came bee-lining for me. “Who played that song?” she whispered. And looked right at me. She grinned, and promptly introduced herself as Noreen. I could tell by the swagger in her step and the slight slur to her speech that she had been at the bar for a good amount of time. She was pretty, in a natural way. I could smell a slight hint of Patchouli oil on her skin. It made me smile and filled me with comfort. She had short blonde hair and faded jeans. Her fingers were littered with silver rings. She was simple and beautiful.

After an hour of talking to Noreen, I had learned a lot of really cool things about her. She told me about her long love story with music. She was an event planner at a well known hotel in the sixties. She hung out with Joni Mitchell and other stars of the time. Each celebrity had outrageous things that they requested in each of their rooms. Most memorable was Bob Dylan. He required ten guinea pigs in his hotel room at one time. Before leaving, Bob gave one to Noreen’s daughter. She spent lots of time with musician and performers. When she spoke about Woodstock, she mentioned that it was the greatest time to be alive. She and her husband were on the way to Woodstock when they had to turn the car around since she was nine months pregnant. Her daughter was born while Jimi Hendrix was on stage. To this day, her daughter has been dubbed the Woodstock baby by her family’s life long physician.

As the night went on and it came time to leave, Noreen and I had shared quite a bit of information. Mostly metaphysical, but nonetheless unforgettable. She left me with a big hug and a smile, reminding me to always follow my instincts and do what I love most in the world. “Be creative, be adventurous and most of all do what you love to do. No matter what anyone thinks, just do it.” And with that, she was off.

One of these days, I will stop by her little Flower Bar and take a peek at the place she calls a home for her passion and love for flowers. If nothing more, I got a message loud and clear that night. There really is no time but the present to figure out what you have always wanted to do and make it a reality. Mark my words… I will make it happen someday.