Justin was the 12th most common name for boys in the United States in 1980s, a fact I didn’t really need to look up after last weekend. In Chicago for a quick respite, I watched Justin Townes Earle perform at an open air festival in Oak Park – a spirited, rollicking performance with his buddy Cory. They hammed up their country boy roots for the yuppie crowd, even more so than the concert I saw in Rock Island earlier this summer. Honestly, though, those boys need to EAT! Justin’s so skinny I got a paper cut shaking his hand. The next time they come to St. Louis, I’m gonna bring them some fried chicken and biscuits.
Finished with the concert, my friends and I retreated to a bar for a snack and drinks. The bar had a DJ, or more precisely a VJ, where we were subjected to a music video by Justin Timberlake. Frankly, I didn’t hate the song, but I won’t be buying it anytime soon, either. Saturday, I went to Evanston for a friend’s wedding – he was also named Justin, although his bride wasn’t. Back in St. Louis Sunday night, we ate dinner at Mangia Italiano where we bumped into a friend whose significant other is named – wait for it – Justin. If you’re keeping score at home, that’s four Justins in two days or one every 12 hours.
Here’s a bonus thought: Sunday I rode Amtrak’s Texas Eagle from Chicago to St. Louis. The Texas Eagle ends its journey in Los Angeles, with a stop in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma is also the name of an EP and single recorded by Justin Townes Earle. Life is a circle or, in my case, a road with a series of sharp curves.
© Dean Klinkenberg, 2008
