I guess it’s time to share my John Prine story - my “encounter with greatness.” Stop me if I’m repeating myself. It was 1971, my freshman year at the University of Iowa, in Iowa City, Iowa. A group of us heard that John Prine was going to be playing at Grinnell - a smaller, hipper school, and we decided to make the trek, and sleep over in our sleeping bags. 

John was appearing - for free - in the cozy common area. He was sitting on an ottoman, crouched low - and we sat around him on the floor, acolytes to the Buddha. It was very intimate, very informal. His first album had recently been released, and I was already in awe of the master. 

After the set, he excused himself and retreated to the restroom, where he was followed and cornered by a couple of my buddies. They told him that their friend wrote songs, and he needed to hear them. He emerged from the toilet, made a beeline for me, and asked me to play a few for him. I so wish they had been worthy of such an honor, but they were childish. True to his character, though, he was nothing but kind and gracious; his advice was to go to Chicago to try my luck as he had done. “However, as you can see, ” he quipped, “I’m playing for free, myself.”  One of my fondest memories.

Here is John’s song about a vastly different encounter, which changes the course of the protagonist’s life. Enjoy!