Porter Rockwell

And his name...
was Porter Rockwell.
That was a song I remember from the '80s. I heard for the first time when I was a teenager visiting Utah for Especially For Youth and today was the first time I was reminded of it in over 20 years (yikes shouldn't admit that!)
The reminder came in the form of me making my husband drive me(so I wouldn't chicken out) down to the Primedia building to dropoff my Hall of Fame entry. Well Porter was there to greet me and of course I saw the name, the statue and the words to the chorus just slipped right out after all that time.
With a huge rock in my stomach I walked across the parking lot staring at my feet and wondering why I was torturing myself like this. I mean really who does this kind of thing to themselves on purpose?
I handed my exceptionally composed clear plastic bag to the darling receptionist and blurted out "please take this before I throw up" and she sweetly obliged and then set it on the desk next to her. She looked a little concerned, could I really have been that green? I said "are you prepared for the hundreds more that are on their way?" and she said "yes" and then continued with "I hope we get lots more, its is better that way".
Well this made me feel a little ickier, of course it is for them, I can't disagree with that. But for me, I don't think so! I wanted to disagree outloud, but my filters kicked in thank goodness, (that doesn't happen often enough, LOL!). I managed to thank her and wish her a good day and then left. Walking and staring across the parking lot, what had I just done?
I left a huge piece of my heart and soul with them, and I just have to forget that it is done or I will go crazy with anxiety.
And to just add a little hilarity to my drama, I can't get the tune of the Porter Rockwell chorus out of my head.
B-