Webmistress' Son

February 24, 2013

Long ago and far away Sally Potts, you may or may not know came to stay with Peter and me at the Rag House. She can fill you in better than myself on this ~ but it had to do with getting high school credits for working in the field of choice, and hers was somehow connected with me. The deciding factor was the letter she wrote explaining her project. We resonated immediately ~ Sally joined and would have stayed with the flying Schekeryk’s circus had it not been for real life ~ Sally went on to become the first woman to graduate the music engineering program at the University of Miami, sound engineer at A&R Recording Studios in New York City and on and on. 

Sally Dorgan became Sally Potts ( I think I might have told her, “You can’t marry someone with the last name Potts!?”) She didn’t listen, became Sally Potts, had two children, boy Brian and girl Kellsey, I didn’t mean to tell you the story of her life but you need to have a fill in ~ we really hardly if ever communicated in the human sense, but with some a constant dialogue is not part and parcel of friendship ~ when Peter left his body Sally drove from Texas to my house in Nashville to just BE THERE.

She arrived to find only Dorothy the nanny (who never left the circus) as we were on the road, and stayed there when it happened. Until now I don’t know how she found out but she’s put herself to a degree into this mystifying little complexity of my life ~ I don’t know how I deserve such a person as Sally Potts as friend, webmistress, and mother of Brian Potts, the most excellent percussionist (no he doesn’t want to join the circus, he teaches in the real world and is perfect poised happy and ‘no thank you’) but maybe as a project having to do with getting a degree in such and such ~ and or experiencing some more of what he is sending some of his students out there to become, learning more firsthand about the pitfalls ~we‘re a great group to observe when studying pitfalls. He’ll come for a summer that would lead into autumn, winter and spring, as his mom did all those years ago in the Rag House, unbeknownst to its inhabitants, the greatest School of ‘ Don’t do this’.


By the way, my dear ones, Sally Potts has in my mind taken on the characteristics of a being in a fairy tale.