Rock’s Blues/Food
I’ve tried to be a business man on occasion. The idea of working for myself has always sounded good to me. Why wouldn’t it? I’m easy to get along with. I’m prone to drop everything and go fishing without a moments notice. I don’t get excited if I’m late or if I leave early. I pat myself on the back if I get a lot done or if I get very little to nothing done. When I work for myself breaks come early and often and can turn into short fishing trips on occasion. Sleeping on the job isn’t frowned upon. In fact I find that a power nap can be very conducive to fits of productivity as long as the power nap doesn’t turn into a slobber-Fest of erotic/aquatic bikini fishing super hero fantasy. I have saved many a bikini clad beauties from crazed villains with my 6′ 6″ medium heavy action BPS qualifier fishing rod. They are always so very grateful. I have a great catch phrase in these dreams, “baby, you’re a keeper.” I’m the perfect boss when I work for myself. It’s hard to believe I’m not filthy rich. All of my famous businesses never made it. One of them was called Rock’s Blues/Food. It should have made me rich.
Rock’s Blues/Food was an idea of mine born out of my experiences from living in this rural setting most of my life. Country folks, especially before satellite TV and the internet, made their own entertainment. We would gather up at some ones house and play music and cook. Just about everyone I knew could play something. People would show up with guitars, banjos, mandolins, fiddles, harmonicas, drums. We made music and ate homemade ice cream and all was well with the world. There is something about being together and singing and playing that satisfies a basic human need. Most all the people who came to these things did not drink alcohol, at least at these events, so there were no hassles ever. No one had to come around the next morning and apologize to anyone. I loved these get togethers. I still do. It was from this experience that I formed the idea behind my blues club/restaurant. I thought I would have a place that served food that I really like. That would be a venue for me and my band to play the music that I liked as well as let anyone play the music that they liked. We served philly cheese steaks, cheeseburgers, and gyros. I didn’t serve any alcohol so all was welcome. As a matter of fact, my harmonica players seven year old daughter Madison was our defacto waitress. Madison would take your order by drawing a picture of what you wanted. Whoever was cooking, it might be me or my Dad or any number of people including the person who ordered the food, would take the order from Madison and get the details by yelling back to the customer asking what all they wanted on it. It worked like a charm and made everyone happy to see Madison with a big smile on her face calming drawing pictures of your order.
I never had a lot of business. Part of the reason might have been the location. I’m not griping at all about the location. Some friends of mine basically let me use their old gas station rent free. They’re good people and I’m forever in their debt for being so kind to me. The old building was actually a great old building. It was plenty big and once cleaned up and minor repairs done it had a certain charm. It was just a little out of the way. It was a little to far outside of town on a forgotten highway and looked a little like a road house for hard core drinkers and criminals. We had a good time though. For a couple of years we opened the doors every Saturday Night and played our music and cooked our food. We did it some nights for as few a three people and some nights for thirty. The few people that did come were pretty regular so we knew people would be there every time. It was fun just not profitable. I wish I could have kept it open forever. It was great hanging out with friends. We laughed and played and hated to leave. I still think it was a good idea even though I never made a thin dime. We still talk about it however. People remember coming in there and having to cook their own food because I was busy and my Dad was up on stage playing and singing some country music. You probably shouldn’t require your customers to cook their own food. They never seemed to mind much. They also remember Madison’s little smiling face drawing their orders. I was lying before. I’m a horrible business man. You have to admit though, Rock’s Blues/Food was a fun place to be.
Rock’s Blues/Food was an idea of mine born out of my experiences from living in this rural setting most of my life. Country folks, especially before satellite TV and the internet, made their own entertainment. We would gather up at some ones house and play music and cook. Just about everyone I knew could play something. People would show up with guitars, banjos, mandolins, fiddles, harmonicas, drums. We made music and ate homemade ice cream and all was well with the world. There is something about being together and singing and playing that satisfies a basic human need. Most all the people who came to these things did not drink alcohol, at least at these events, so there were no hassles ever. No one had to come around the next morning and apologize to anyone. I loved these get togethers. I still do. It was from this experience that I formed the idea behind my blues club/restaurant. I thought I would have a place that served food that I really like. That would be a venue for me and my band to play the music that I liked as well as let anyone play the music that they liked. We served philly cheese steaks, cheeseburgers, and gyros. I didn’t serve any alcohol so all was welcome. As a matter of fact, my harmonica players seven year old daughter Madison was our defacto waitress. Madison would take your order by drawing a picture of what you wanted. Whoever was cooking, it might be me or my Dad or any number of people including the person who ordered the food, would take the order from Madison and get the details by yelling back to the customer asking what all they wanted on it. It worked like a charm and made everyone happy to see Madison with a big smile on her face calming drawing pictures of your order.
I never had a lot of business. Part of the reason might have been the location. I’m not griping at all about the location. Some friends of mine basically let me use their old gas station rent free. They’re good people and I’m forever in their debt for being so kind to me. The old building was actually a great old building. It was plenty big and once cleaned up and minor repairs done it had a certain charm. It was just a little out of the way. It was a little to far outside of town on a forgotten highway and looked a little like a road house for hard core drinkers and criminals. We had a good time though. For a couple of years we opened the doors every Saturday Night and played our music and cooked our food. We did it some nights for as few a three people and some nights for thirty. The few people that did come were pretty regular so we knew people would be there every time. It was fun just not profitable. I wish I could have kept it open forever. It was great hanging out with friends. We laughed and played and hated to leave. I still think it was a good idea even though I never made a thin dime. We still talk about it however. People remember coming in there and having to cook their own food because I was busy and my Dad was up on stage playing and singing some country music. You probably shouldn’t require your customers to cook their own food. They never seemed to mind much. They also remember Madison’s little smiling face drawing their orders. I was lying before. I’m a horrible business man. You have to admit though, Rock’s Blues/Food was a fun place to be.
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