(Before I start storytime, I wanted to thank you all for continuing to bear with me as I adjust to my new job – I’m about settled in, and your regularly (un)scheduled programming will continue. Also, there’s a moral to the story you’re about to read.)
Angela and I were hanging out in Kansas City last Thursday, seeing the sites. We saw Amos Lee in concert Wednesday night and were going to see Jack Johnson Friday night. Neither of us had ever really seen much of Kansas City – her parents love suburban malls, and mine were always too poor for us to travel much, let along enjoy traveling. Our visit was like seeing Kansas City for the first time.
We ended up in Union Station. It’s a lovely building with great architecture, but we soon discovered that there really wasn’t much to do there, except for seeing the controversial Bodies Revealed exhibit. And that was expensive.
As we stood deliberating whether or not to fork over the money to go to aforementioned exhibit, this guy walked in front of me.
He was carrying a car seat and had two young boys (probably 3 and 5) in tow. He was wearing a green T-Shirt, some cargo shorts, and a backpack. He looked really familiar – I knew who he was, but it took me a second to realize it.
It was Jack Johnson. Yes, the Jack Johnson you’re thinking of. The same Jack Johnson that’s my favorite artist and why we were even in KC in the first place.
The Encounter
I looked at Angela and say “That’s Jack Johnson!” Before she could mutter “Nuh-uh!” I had already gotten his attention and moved the 10 feet to talk to him.
Me: “Jack!”
Surprised, he looked at me. I’m not sure whether I yelled it louder and more forcefully than I thought, or whether he was surprised that someone noticed him.
I walked (briskly) and shook his hand.
“I’m a big fan of yours, and I know you’re here with your kids, but I was wondering if I could get a picture with you.”
Angela caught up shortly after I started talking to him and managed to meekly wave and say “We’re really big fans.”
“I’m sorry,” he said “but I promised my wife I wouldn’t do that anymore. We lost the boys for like ten minutes the other day when I was signing and talking to a fan and it really scared us.” He looked like he wanted to, but was trying to honor his promise and take care of his kids.
“I understand,” I said as I noticed that his boys were already on the verge of getting out of sight, “that’s really scary. Hey, we’re going to the concert tomorrow night, so we’ll see you there.”
“Thanks – I hope you enjoy the show.” He ran to catch his boys and to check in the car seat.
He walked around a bit trying to figure out what he’s going to do, and we stood back trying not to stare. Angela was wheedling at me to get the camera out so we could take a picture of him as he’s walking around, but I fought the urge for both of us – the man was with his kids.
He disappeared downstairs, and we went back to trying to figure out whether to go to the exhibit. I was mad at myself for not saying something more substantial and blowing an opportunity for a decent thirty second conversation with my favorite musician. (This frustration hits Angela a day later.)
We finally decide that we were going to see the exhibit. We went downstairs, and there he was again. His boys were being young boys, and he was having a hard time keeping them contained while he was on the cell phone. We walked around him and his boys, trying to give them wide berth.
“Hey guys,” he said as he walks up to us, “have you all been to the Bodies Revealed thing? I’d like to see it, but I don’t know if the boys will like it.”
“No, we’re trying to figure out if we’re going to do it,” I said, surprised that he’s talking to us.
“I’d like to see it, but I’ve got ethical issues with it,” Angela said, as surprised as I am. (In case you can’t tell, Angela’s not shy about telling you what’s on her mind.)
“Oh, that’s cool. I think we’ll just go to the science exhibit. Thanks – see you tomorrow.” He managed to catch his oldest boy and drag his youngest to the ticket counter. He paid and went to the exhibit.
This second encounter threw us off to the fact that we’d decided to see the exhibit. We went back upstairs and went through the deliberation to see it all again.
I got more frustrated with myself, as I blew a second opportunity to say something significant. We decided (again) to fork over the money and see the damned exhibit.
What was interesting about it was that no one else knew who he was. Had I not pointed him out, Angela wouldn’t have noticed him either (as you can tell, I’m fairly observant). He walked around completely unassuming, and he looked just like any other dad spending the day with his boys.
We didn’t see Jack again until the following night – but we did catch him playing a pre-concert with Zack Gill.
When Experiencing Something is Better than Getting a Picture
I’d rather have seen what I saw of Jack than to just get a picture. By opening our eyes, we got to experience not mega-star Jack Johnson, but a laid-back dad on a trip with his kids. He was doing the best he could to spend time with them and honor a promise he made to his wife.
I respect that more than his music-making skills. There are a lot of people who are talented musicians but horrible spouses and parents, and the fact that he was able to be a family guy in between concerts told more about his character than the scores of interviews I’ve seen or heard.
But it was also cool that he took the time to talk to us again. It really did seem like he cared that we were fans – but he was primarily there to spend time with his boys. Fans took a backseat – a close one, but a backseat nonetheless.
In case any of you were wondering what I wanted to say, here it is:
“Jack, you got me and my fellow troops through many a dark day when we were deployed to Iraq. I really appreciate you and your message – and just wanted you to know that the value of your music is measured by many more things than the money that it yields. Your music continues to make our days brighter and influences the music that I make and play.”
It turns out that words like that don’t come out when you get starstruck. Instead, you become a rabid fan and ask for pictures.
The Moral of the Story
You may be asking yourself: “What does any of this have to do with productivity or flourishing? Isn’t that what this blog is ostensibly about? Why the storytime?”
I’ve said before that one of the ways we become more virtuous is by having examples of virtuous people. There’s (usually) a very tight correlation between those who are virtuous and those who are living the Good Life.
By all accounts, Jack and Zack are living the Good Life. Their families tour with them and they seem to have happy, normal children. Jack and his crew have started a non-profit organization called All At Once that seeks to unite local social action groups. And he still loves what he’s doing.
Watch and learn, folks. Watch and learn.
Jack Johnson does give off a really good vibe anyway, but I agree with you that his commitment to his family is a much more admirable display of character than signing an autograph or giving a picture.
It’s a shame you didn’t get to say what you wanted to, but moments of intense emotion or surprise will always leave people speechless. It’s like a bad break-up where days afterwards you think of all the things you wanted to say in the final moments, but didn’t.
The important thing is his music helped you, and it’s a cool story. Thanks Charlie.
Kelly
Now I’m all crying and shit. Damn.
Anyway, Jack Johnson rules my world and I came very close to selling my soul to see him in Toronto. It was awesome. Even my Jack adores his Curious George CD. So Jack, if you got the Google Alert, hi, and thanks from Canada too. We used to play your albums to our little guy when he was in ICU. I don’t know if it made a difference to him, but it sure made one to us.
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@Kelly: I actually have to thank you for giving me a space to write this story. I say that because I know that I have at least one reader who cares more about stories like this than some of the other stuff I do – so when I run across a good story that I think may not be a good blog post, I think “Kelly may like this one.” It gives me another outlet to have fun writing at PF.
Yes, I still write for individual readers. Especially ones that are so supportive.
@Naomi: Wow, thanks for stopping by and commenting. The concert was awesome – 17,000 Jack fans singing along. And I particularly like the Curious George CD – I just watched it last night, too. Yet another bond we share.
Cool story! And what’s cool is that he was just like a regular guy, and came up to you. That is pretty darn neat.
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Charlie
I’m glad I inspire you to expand your writing and story telling. Stories have always played a vital historic role in relaying wisdom, imagination, hope and personal experience. The problem so often is that we think our stories have no relevance. We’re not important enough or we’re not a good enough writer. But nothing could be further from the truth. Everybody is a story teller with something to offer so bring on those yarns I say!
Kelly
Good call on resisting the urge to take the picture. Instead of having an artifact, you have a great story about a memorable human interaction. Too bad you weren’t able to dredge up those moving words at the right time, but now they’re here for him and the world to see.
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@ Andre: Man, was it a fight. Angela can be very persuasive when she wants to be. But yeah, I’ll savor that interaction long after the ink from the picture has faded.