It's easy to miss him, or not...what with all the gushing quilters clamboring all around him.
Please meet my interviewee, Mr. Ricky Tims; though I realize his charm and talents are well likely to precede his name in blogville just as they did this morning. After an early morning flight, I arrived in Birmingham amid chatter in the hotel lobby, chatter on the shuttle and more chatter in the entrance line about this musician, this quilter, this storyteller. I knew the instant I began eavesdropping, who they were talking of at this colorful Festival of Quilts.
An hour later I found myself straddling the throng of babbling quilters working hard to position themselves into a conversation with The Man himself. Showing uptmost interest and sincerety, he greeted each quilter with all of his attention. I quickly felt sinister for pressing forward knowing my motives were less humbling than that of each mesmerized lady who stood before him. I had nothing to offer but a pitiful apology for missing his show the night before.
His glorious quilts hung all around me. His queue of visitors had allowed me the time to browse and admire each one. Wow. He was pure artist in every sense of the word. And yet, they hung there now, mocking me. I missed his show; something told me the quilts were just the tip of the iceberg. How dare I crowd in with my business agenda?
And yet, he is kind. One look in his eyes and you know he is kind. True to this word, he graciously invited me tomorrow morning for a one-to-one chat. Privately. Before any of his fans arrive at the festival.
But not this one. I should be so lucky.