Free Mind the Gap (In Too Deep) by Casey McMillin Page B

Rand in the audience at the Olympics.
    ****
    The next night I had a gig at a local bar called Digg's. Even though I had a band behind me now, we made pretty mellow music. Our sound worked perfectly in Digg's, because it was a laid-back place famous for a huge selection of beer from obscure microbreweries.
    The three guys backing me up were really good musicians who helped me improve each time we got together to rehearse. That was something we did a lot because we were gaining fans at a faster rate than we were ready for. We called ourselves Brit and the Bellyflops, and to our own shock, we'd packed the bar even though it was only our second time to play there as the headliners.
    So, Digg's was packed, and the sight of that huge crowd made me feel nervous. Just before the show, my band and I (plus the sound guy) stepped outside for a little attitude adjustment. We were in the middle of adjusting said attitude when a huge Chevy pulled up in the parking lot. I knew before anyone got out that it was one of my parents. The huge black Chevy was easy enough to recognize, but I'd never seen anyone else with a bumper sticker that said, "If you're against logging, try using plastic to wipe your ass." My family lived in Oregon, and yes, my dad was a logger. I had one little brother, who indeed wanted to carry on the family tradition of clearing the earth of its forests. I suddenly felt extremely paranoid. I ducked into my car and began searching for some gum or some smelly lotion or ideally both.
    I had about twenty seconds to compose myself and shake the paranoia before I had to say something to Mom and Dad. I probably could have hidden and let them walk into the bar without saying anything, but I was too curious about why they were here. In spite of my parents being a little close-minded, we had a good relationship and I wasn't sad they were here, I was just curious as to why.
    "Mom?" I said, coming from behind them as they started to circle the building to get to the front door.
    My mom turned with a start, but relaxed as soon as my voice registered. "Hey baby, I never dreamed we'd see you out here." Her assessing gaze swept over me (and my delinquent band mates who were in the distance). She didn't miss a beat, thank you, Jesus. "Dad and I were just gonna go on inside and surprise you in the audience," she continued. Then she looked at her watch. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, concerned. "I thought you had a show at—"
    "No, it's fine, we're good on time. The owner knows we're out here. We were just having a little band meeting before we go on stage." My mom just squinted into the shadows at the guys she'd just learned were my band mates. "Thanks for coming guys," I said, hoping to distract them. "Where's Paul?" My little brother was nineteen, but still lived at home.
    "He stayed at home," my dad said. "Your mom and I wanted a date." He smiled at her and offered his arm, and she accepted. They headed for the front door of the venue wishing me luck from over their shoulders.
    All of a sudden, I was more nervous than I'd ever been in my whole life. Performing in front of strangers is much easier than performing for family because when you perform in front of family, you worry about their total experience—not only just what they think about your performance, but also things you can't control. I was worried that someone in the audience would say something rude about me or the music and my mom would overhear. I knew that was crazy, so I took a few deep breaths and decided to have fun. If I couldn't have fun, then what was I doing there, right? "Let's do it boys," I said as I made my way to the back door.
    I spotted my mom and dad right when we came up on the stage. They were settled at one of the high tables built for two that were scattered along the outside edges of the bar. My mom and dad had both heard me sing, obviously. I'd been doing it all my life. They hadn't until now, however, heard me play guitar, much less with