Boston,1968. My college roomie brought me home with her for the weekend. Her dad was Manny Greenhill. At 3 PM, he picked up 2 people at the bus station. We had dinner (fishsticks, mashed potatoes, and peas. Who feeds peas to a blind man??) Dinner conversation centered around a tv Christmas special being put together, whether it would be worth the exhaustion of travel to be a part of it, description of their trip (something like 18 hours, half-price for the blind), and a baby (this guy was my age, and he was married and had a kid??). The concert (Doc and Merle Watson, of course) started at 8, I think. Jordan Hall was sold out, so we sat on folding chairs in front of the front row. The music was magic. I have never since seen such wonderful hands. Merle never once said a word on stage. After the show, we all went to Park Street, by the bus station. Debbie and I were underage, so not allowed, but everyone else went into the Hilbilly Ranch bar. The bus for NC left at midnight. Debbie and I wandered around Boston Common for the intervening couple hours. Things were different then and we were not at all afraid.