I Met a Rock Star

Lucky me! I met a rock star this week. No. Not Taylor Swift. Not Ringo Starr. Not anyone you’d know by name. You won’t recognize her face. She doesn’t even sing or play with a band. But still, unquestionably, the woman is a rock star.

I met her at dinner at one of Reno, Nevada’s “famed” all-you-can-eat sushi restaurants. The rock star in question, for privacy’s sake, we’ll call her Linda, although that’s not her real name, is the wife of a work colleague of mine. I haven’t seen him in years, and I had never met Linda. The couple now lives abroad but is back in the States temporarily because Linda has cancer. It’s her second bout, and she’s getting treatment in California.

On a break between chemo sessions, the couple was spending a few days in the Lake Tahoe area. They came down to Reno for the day, and my friend called to schedule a catch-up dinner.

Rock Star Food Cravings

Now, I’m no sushi lover. In fact, the mention of raw fish gives me the shivers, but who am I to deny a woman undergoing chemo her moments of non-nausea food cravings?

So, we met at the restaurant of her choice. HH spotted the couple first. The wife was the only woman wearing a hat — a wild faux fur number — in the decidedly seedy downtown restaurant aptly named Tha Joint!

Before we were formally introduced, Linda hurriedly said, “I have hair. Lots of hair, but it’s a mess. I just got a massage!”

And even before we exchanged pleasantries, the woman got down to the business at hand. Whipping through the menu, she penciled in more sushi picks than you can imagine. She practically wore the pencil to a nub! Practically tore a hole in the ordering form!

The waiter looked slightly bewildered. “Are more people joining you? Do I need to switch you all to a bigger table?”

“Nope,” smiled the sushi-loving lady. “Just us four.”

“Actually, three,” I said, embarrassed to be a sushi denier. “I’ll have the chicken teriyaki, please.”

Rockin’ with the Rock Star

Food order placed, the conversation commenced. It was delightful and non-stop. We discussed our friends’ lives, which are nomadic. Formerly San Francisco Bay residents, they’ve shed most of their possessions and rent homes/apartments in locations worldwide. They’ve lived and traveled in places far flung, wherever the mood took them — Mexico, Vietnam, Japan, Denver (!) … The list is long.

Linda never talked about her health. Never complained. Never expressed a worry. She was animated, curious, and lovely.

And man, oh, man, did she eat! I don’t think I ever saw a person pack away as much food as that slender woman did! It was awe-inspiring! She could have been a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers.

Once the sushi was consumed (plus three different types of mochi), Linda stood up, “I hate to rush off, but I need to get home.”

Rocking Out

Was she suddenly feeling ill? I worried.

Nope.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just I’m so excited. I just got a notice that Amazon delivered my craft kit!”

She explained that she had never been able to sew, knit, or needlepoint, but had always longed to be a crafty kind of person. Just that week, she had learned about a simple sewing technique called punch sewing and thought she’d give it a try.

I asked my nomadic friend what she was going to make since she clearly wasn’t a keeper of rugs, coasters, and whatnots.

“Oh, coasters, as a matter of fact. I’ll either give them a gift or throw them away. I’ll see,” and with that, she gave me a fist bump and jumped into their rental car.

Off into the night sped my old friend and his wife.

Rock On, Lovely Lady. Rock On

I just stood there in the parking lot, dazzled by that utterly awesome woman, unbowed in the face of a life-threatening illness, grabbing enjoyment in food, massages, funny faux hats, and new skills.

Definitely a rock star. An inspiration.

🍣 🐟 🍣🐟 🍣

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