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As I write this, I am amazed that this is the first time I've ever posted in an R.E.M. fan forum. I became a diehard fan in 1984, when I came home from seventh grade one afternoon, turned on Chicago's local music-video show, and saw the video for "So. Central Rain." I was instantly hooked, and immersed myself in all things R.E.M. through my high school years and beyond. I've devoured copious amounts of great music across genres since then, but I'll always hold this band closest to my heart.
In the mid-2000's, my attention to the band waned as I was busy working, marrying, having kids. But when Live at the Olympia was released, it kicked my fandom back into high gear, where it's been ever since. On the day the band announced their parting of ways, my bewildered daughter watched me cry, and I could only hope that she, too, will someday love a band or artist this much. The fact that the announcement came on the heels of my 40th birthday heightened the melancholy, the reflection on how time passes and everything changes.
Rather than stay melancholy, I decided to accept and celebrate the fact that we all move on. So I bought a ticket to the John Wesley Harding/Minus 5 show at the Bell House last Saturday and called on my friends in Brooklyn for a place to stay. I was so excited about the show; aside from the requisite crush on Michael Stipe's hair in the mid-80's, my love of the band has always been Peter-centric.
The week of my trip, I started thinking that, given the opportunity, I should give Peter something as a way to say "thanks for decades of music and integrity". When I want to express admiration or appreciation for someone and don't know what else to do, I knit. So, I made a scarf and wrote a note, wondering if I’d have any chance to give my gift. My life is busy, so the scarf was actually finished in the eleventh hour; if anyone saw a woman speed-knitting in the hallway during Robyn Hitchcock's set, that was me!
At the end of the (really great) show, I seized my moment of opportunity, and as Peter put down his guitar, I sheepishly called to him and handed him the bag. He looked genuinely surprised and was very appreciative; he thanked me, we shook hands and smiled, and I was happy I accomplished my mission. Moments later, the backstage door opened, and much to my amazement, out came Peter, wearing the scarf and looking for me. He came out just to thank me again. I was floored--and at a rare loss for words!
I managed to ask if he had a second for a picture, and he summoned a man from the crowd to help out. Unfortunately, my “antiquated” iPhone doesn’t have a flash, and our photographer clearly hadn’t a clue about how to use the camera. (For instance, he held the iPhone with its screen facing Peter and me.) In retrospect, it’s pretty funny, but at that moment, I didn’t want to ask for too much of Peter's time or patience. I could see other groups of fans starting to circle around us, and figured he wouldn’t want to spend too much time in the crowd.
As he kindly posed for pictures and chatted with other fans, I checked my phone and saw that the attempted pictures hadn’t worked because the room was so dark. I mentioned this as he was on his way backstage, and for a moment, there I stood with Peter Buck, trying to problem-solve. It was a bit surreal! He asked if I had a flash; I said I didn’t. We paused. He said, “I really would like you to get a picture, but I just don’t know what to do.” I was simultaneously touched (but not surprised) by his kindness and disappointed that I was going to miss the opportunity to capture the moment. But I respect his time and boundaries, so I thanked him for the effort and left feeling a little awkward.
Maybe ten minutes later, I was waiting for my ride near the Bell House’s exit door when I heard someone say, “Oh, there’s the woman who made me the scarf!” I looked up, and sure enough, there was Peter, asking me if I wanted to try to take another picture, since there was good lighting in the hallway. (I consented, obviously! And I was tickled that he was still wearing the scarf as he was leaving.) He recruited the woman he was with—presumably his girlfriend, since she told me she’d be wearing the scarf, too--to take our picture. She happily obliged, and took a fantastic photo in one try. And I, of course, spent the cab ride home texting five friends simultaneously while trying to tell my amused driver what had just happened.
And there you have it, my very own awesome Peter Buck story. If I’d had another moment, I would have passed along a “hello” on behalf of my 5.5-year-old son, who, during our playtimes, regularly insists that our family pretend to be R.E.M., and he always insists on being Peter. (This is such a frequent occurrence that we’ve named it “calling Peter”, like calling shotgun
So thanks, Peter Buck, from two generations of fans. Your kindness will be the subject of a story we will relish telling again and again.--Tracy Loland
