While I was at  mother's 29th Street House in Portsmouth, my old friend Steve Buckner stopped by to see me. We walked to the bedroom, and after we had talked a while, I suddenly realized that Steve was an artist, and that he should be playing the guitar. That was his role in life, but he had abandoned it. Steve said he had been thinking about it and had reached the same conclusion. I said, "Buckner, you can't think about it. You can't talk about it. You just got to go out and do it."

Apparently, Steve had invited a couple pretty girls along with him. As we talked, the girls climbed into the room through the window, and then climbed back out. When I asked Steve about the girls, he told me he had arranged for us to go out with the girls that night. I was uncertain I wanted to go out with them, but I figured I probably did.

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