Not A Hugger

10/12/14

I'm walking around New Orleans with my friend Virginia. It's Columbus day, and we're there to shoot a car commercial. We follow a dark colored sedan on foot for several blocks until we come upon the crew. Governor Bobby Jindal is there and I think to myself, "doesn't he have something more important to do?"

Virginia and I walk a few more blocks to a park where Nina Simone is giving a concert in a light rain. We find seats near the front right next to Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary.

Nina launches into her famous protest song, Mississippi Goddam. The message is deadly serious, but the melody is so infectious that I can't help but to sing a long. Loudly.

No one else is singing and I fear I'm about to be on the receiving end of one of Nina's legendary tantrums. But to my great relief Nina looks up, smiles and nods her head in approval. The crowd starts to sing along.

The rain is coming down heavier now and the concert comes to an abrupt conclusion. I follow Nina down a tree lined street to a small brick building where her dressing room is located. But I'm not stalking her; it turns out MY dressing room is in the same building, in the basement, right next to Nina's.

I watch her gather up her bags and get ready to go. We have a brief conversation where I tell her how much I enjoyed the concert. Just before she walks out I give her a hug. Her body immediately tenses up, as if she'd never been touched before and has no idea how to respond. Wordlessly and with no sign of emotion, she walks down the hallway and disappears up the stairs.

I think to myself, "well, clearly she's not a hugger."