Davis encompasses all of my stereotypes of a blues player. He was a bit chubby, with big, black-tinted sunglasses. He wore an immense gold ring on his hand, a little hat topped askew on his head, a bright, Bahama button-down shirt, and a mammoth smile over his entire face. No one has ever sung, let alone, written a song just for me, and feelings of bliss and uniqueness raced throughout me for the duration of the day. Frank Scott, a sweet older man with an equally sugary smile, is the owner, builder, and preserver of the bandstand where Davis and other blues players do their thing.
Many people stop and listen, and bob their head to the beat when passing by the bandstand.
Others get down and dance their little hearts out like local Lewis Tucker, who danced a dance just for me. The happening hot spot in the area is Original Jim's Hotdog Stand, famous for its pork-chop sandwiches and Polish sausages. Being a vegetarian, I did not want to try any of the items sold, but the crowds in front of the stand said it all. We've only closed down twice. Once for my dad's funeral, and once for my sister's funeral.