Herbert was pulling pearly gate duty again, he volunteered this time. It was a chance to meet people at the end of their journey and witness all of their worries taking wing. It was an experience he could not forget and he had to share in it once more.
The first time it occurred, he felt guilty that he took pleasure at being at the end of a person’s life. The guilt only lasted until the next person stepped off of the shuttle. A sufficient time for reality to settle in had past and most of the arrivals had a realized they were not heading to a much warmer climate. This stop at the pearly gates was final confirmation that all would be well.
The first shuttle of the day had arrived and unloaded its passengers and while it was sans knights on noble steeds*, the experience was satisfying and he found himself looking forward to the next arrival.
During the wait, Herbert was trying to read the latest issue of People but he was having a hard time concentrating.
The lobby’s muzak was covering the best of Kenny G. While the title may be just a small lie, the music itself belonged at the alternate end of the road.
Soon the sounds of a blues riff in E-Minor mercifully arrived on the wind.
Herbert was somewhat of guitar buff and he thought he recognized the fat sounds of a Gibson announcing the arrival of the next shuttle.
It’s about time we got some righteous tunes up here, he thought.
The notes reached a crescendo as the shuttle appeared and BB King jumped out and completed his riff to announce his arrival. Herbert was blown away.
“Wow,what an entrance,” he exclaimed.
“But why the blues Mr. King? Most people are actually happy upon reaching the pearly gates.”
“Young man you don’t always have to be sad to play the blues. It can be a celebration that sad times are in the past.”
Nice philosophy, thought Herbert.
“Besides,I’m B.B King. You expect me to play Kenny G?
“Oh heavens no,” replied Herbert”
“ I’m looking forward to playing to a new audience. You don’t have many critics up here do you?”
“Oh no, their final destination is much warmer.”
Thank you B.B. King for nourishing my soul.
*If you missed that reference see “Waiting For Dulcinea”