When we arrived Stacey greeted us. She said we were going to watch the show from an opera box. We'd been to HOBs with Gregg many times before, but watching the show from a box would be a special treat.

 

I was giddy with excitement but managed to follow her across the floor, up the stairs to the box without tripping or otherwise humiliating myself. Cool, calm and collected. That was me. For about a minute.

 

When we entered the room I walked to the rail, checked out the stage, turned around ... and saw Mama A sitting in a chair. Mama A! I'd never met her before!

 

A normal person might simply have walked over to her, introduced themselves and said a warm hello. But cool, calm and collected moi walked over ... dropped into a full, deep curtsy and said, "I'm Lana".

 

Argghhhh. My humiliation was instant and paralyzing. I didn't know how, or if, I was going to be able to recover.

 

Fortunately Mama A came to my rescue. "Of course you are, dear" she said patting my shoulder, motioning for me to take a seat next to her. Her gracious understanding and kindness prevented that House of Blues from turning into my personal House of Horrors.

One night during the Real Trippers bus trip the unthinkable happened. Mugsy wrestled out of his collar and took off running under and between equipment trucks, tour buses and cars. No matter how many times Dickey commanded "Mugsy, stop!" or "Mugsy, come!" the little bugger kept running.

 

Many people joined the search. The dog was nowhere to be found. Finally one of the Real Trippers, long-time fan Alan, emerged carrying him in his arms.

 

Dickey was elated. He took Mugsy, carried him into his bus, then came out and offered Alan his heartfelt thanks. "I'd like to shake your hand", he said.

 

Alan hesitated. "Um, I don't think I should."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because when I caught him and picked him up he peed all over my hands."

 

Dickey extended his hand,. "I said I want to shake your hand."

 

Alan didn't move until I barked, "Alan, shake!" He understood the command immediately and shook hands with Dickey. Good boy! I didn't have to teach that old dog a new trick!

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Speaking of a perfect gifts, the Allman Brothers Band played at Red Rocks 26 times between 1979 and 2009. When I was with them I often used my free time to roam around nearby cities to shop and grab a bite to eat before getting ready for the show. During one of those rambles I ran across what I considered to be a perfect gift for Warren, a hat.

 

After determining that it would fit him I took it back to the hotel, put it in a box, wrapped it up, and carried it backstage. When Warren arrived I told him I had a present for him and handed him the package.

 

"What is it?", he asked.

 

"A hat. A custom hat with your initials on it."

 

"You shouldn't have ..." , he continued as he began removing the gift wrap.

 

"Oh, it was nothing. But I thought if was perfect for you."

 

Soon he was holding the hat in his hands. A Waffle House paper hat which, of course, had his initials, WH, on it.

 

Warren thought it was perfect too - perfectly hilarious! - and wore it during the show until the wind blew it off his head. What a great guy!

Rowland and I were already planning to go out to dinner with Butch so I asked him if he'd like to stop by the Sweeties party with us before dinner.

He said, "Sure!" and arranged to meet us in the hotel lobby. He arrived carrying a bottle of wine as a hostess gift (so nice!) ... completely unaware of what he was getting in to.

Up the elevator we went, down the hall, knocked on the door, the door opened and whoooooooooosh. Butch was swept into the sea of peace, love, happiness and joy that's reflected in these photos. These Irish eyes were smiling! Much love!

Pictured: Jacquie, Gary, Butch, Stacy, moi, Leah, Wharfy, and Ron at the Sweeties party in the Beacon Hotel, St. Patrick's Day 2006.

When the week was over, she was sad to be going home. Especially when Woody asked why we had to. Couldn't we just stay? Shey looked at me with hopeful eyes, but I said "No. We need to get you back to school."

"But, Mom, can't you just write me a note?"

"No."

Then Woody jumped in. "I'll write you a note, Sheyenne". And he did. It read, "Now dig this, Teach', consider it a field trip".

Then came an even bigger surprise. I've been on stage with many bands at least once, and with one band many, many times , but my very first time was with Chicago. Being that close to the band, feeling the warmth of the stage lights, looking out at the audience, dancing. Yes! I was giddy with excitement, glowing from the Mateus Rose, might have even sparked up.

Which explains how I got on stage in the first place. Our tickets were great. But. I. Wanted. More. So, I went for it - left my seat, ran down the aisle, jumped up and, presto! There I was on stage with Chicago! For about 10 seconds. Then security scooped me up and plopped me back into the audience.

So, yeah, I'll never forget my first time. Even though it didn't last long. What was yours like? Love you!

In college grades were still part of the feedback equation, along with play reviews, groans about my horrible first attempts at cooking, and appreciative comments about the quality of recreational drugs we'd scored.

In the workplace feedback became perfunctory. No matter how hard I tried it was usually limited to annual performance reviews. Even that went downhill at HAHT where my boss at the time (Hi, Rowland!) hated doing them. As often as I asked for one, he never obliged. One day as we were passing each other in a stairwell I said, "About that annual review ... I really need your feedback." He kept walking, but shouted over his shoulder, "A+, Star, Sticker!" Arggggg.

I should have learned my lesson. Feedback isn't as important to everyone as it is to me. But I didn't. Years later I was sitting in the production office of an ABB concert with Bert Holman. In a quiet moment of ... reflection? stupidity? ... I asked him, "Why me? Why am I the Queen of Peach?" He didn't look up from his paperwork. "Because you're not too f**kin* annoying." Alrighty then. Not the feedback I was expecting, but at least it was something.

Fast forward to today. Feedback still means a lot to me, especially yours. Whether it's a shared photo, kind comment, emoji, or Lanaroo.com product review, thank you so much!. I love you!

Decades ago I was given a backstage sticky pass to an ABB concert in Grand Forks, ND. I'd gone to college in GF, and had been on the concerts committee, but it was a new city/venue for the band. Before the show I sat quietly at a table. Under no circumstance did that pass allow me to go onstage, so near show time I got up to go find my seat in the auditorium.

Then Gregory arrived. He looked around a bit, walked over to me and asked, "Where's the stage?"

"Over there", I said nervously gesturing.

"Just show me ... "

"I can't", I stammered awkwardly. "This pass is for Backstage only."

He looked at the pass, picked up a Sharpie from the table, and scrawled his name across it. "There. That'll take care of it. Now show me the stage."

As we made our way to the stage everything was ok. No one got upset. No one asked me to leave. I brought something to the party and could stay. Within minutes I was dancing near the coolest guy in the room, Gregg Allman. Love you!