I must thank Chipper for bearing me these sad tidings.
Two mornings after Keith was born, Willie P phoned me and asked if he could come see the child, having received word from Paul that his firstborn had arrived.
He showed up reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. My mother, radiating primate female on guard, watched him closely. But it was merely a man lying on our bed and absorbing the experience of being with a tiny newborn child, which he did for the best part of an hour.
I had another anecdote, but I’ll leave it for the memorial service.
One time, Willie P told us a story about how he got an allergic reaction so badly – while on tour – that the hives started going down his throat. With great difficulty he got himself to a hospital in either Edmonton or Calgary and as he sat in the exam room waiting for a doctor, the curtain kept getting pulled back and there’d be another med student standing there goggle-eyed. He or she would say, “They’re RIGHT, you ARE the worst case of hives they’ve ever seen!” and then the curtain would close again.
He wrote a lot – a LOT – of songs, good ones. “Willie’s Diamond Joe” is one of my favourite tunes, and “Why’d I Go Zydeco” is on my playlist. He wrote “Music in your eyes” for a member of Paul’s family. He used to show up at dinner time at Paul’s mum’s place all the time.
In later years he played mandolin. Everything is connected. Rest in peace, Willie the P.
