She actually glows when she talks about Wonderlove, as she does when she talks about a man she s seeing who, shockingly, is neither a musician nor from Texas. But the rest of us will no longer have the dirty, vile roadhouse in which to run into our friends and see the latest bitchen San Francisco punk band or a sweaty set by some Austin roots rockers. The rockabilly kids no longer have a place to go, dressed to kill, every Thursday night to see Big Sandy or Russell Scott when no other venues would bother with greaser music. There will be no place to go after the Hootenanny, when people like John Doe and the Reverend Horton Heat would come and make music and drink beer after the sun went down. Things change and scenes die.
New ones come along.
Entropy and rebirth. And now, someone else will look at the sea of kids with nowhere to go and decide there s a need to be met. And maybe they ll even do so with Linda s hallmarks of kindness and respect. Say goodnight, Gracie. E-mail this story to a friend.