I went to La Zona Rosa here in Austin last night to see the Old 97's, the "alt-country" band fronted by my nephew, Rhett Miller. It's become tradition that the 97's play in Austin between Christmas and New Years every year and it always turns into a mini family reunion with Rhett's various siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends and his 69 year old grandmother in attendance (his oldest Austin groupie). The guest list has to be a chore for Rhett and rather amusing for the attendant at the ticket window - "Now which Miller are you?".
Watching Rhett on stage last night I was lost in thought as I was flooded with memories about him over the years. I recall Rhett (and brother Ross and sister Christi) as sweet, funny, inquisitive kids in Highland Park; the shy, soft spoken teen with doe-like eyes; reports of a burgeoning teen folkie star in Dallas; numerous Austin Old 97's shows; my ill-fated trip to Manahattan to see the show (and the ensuing hospital stay); the horror we all felt when we were told that Rhett and wife Erica had barely escaped Ground Zero on 9/11; the joy of their son Max's arrival in the world and of the news that another child is on the way. Rhett's been a forgiving soul where I've been concerned over the years and has always been compassionate and kind.
An Old 97's show never dissapoints. Even if I weren't a proud family member, I'd enjoy the show. The 97's are tight, high energy and have their act long since down. But seeing family there and, even more importantly, seeing my 69 year old mother at the show bopping to the music along with all the twenty somethings makes it all that much more enjoyable.
Rock on Rhett.
PS: I was informed by my mom that she is 68 not 69. I am SOOOO in the doghouse.
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