In early November, 2010, my second wife, the love of my life for 20 years, asked me for a divorce. I was blown away. I thought things were going well, considering the circumstances.--- I had retired, but my fused spine was building up scar tissue, crowding out nerves and causing unbearable pain, from my lower back to the tip of my toes. And then I developed grand mal seizures, narcolepsy, and all kinds of fun. I just thought I was having a bad run, but on further reflection I discovered I was a drunken putz, and that wonderful woman could divorce me all she wants. She’d earned it.

We had some grand times, too. During our affair years, we’d meet at a church on Virginia Street we dubbed The Virginia Bed & Breakfast. We had a 10-day house-boat trip on Lake Powell Reservoir, we got married in the Bahamas and visited Hawaii and Cancun.

Oddly, one of our most fun one-day outings was a George Thorogood show at Red Butte Garden. George was in fine form: The music was loud, simple, and direct. And George left a quart of blood on the stage.

One thing I find amusing is George has as many "Greatest Hits" and "Live" albums as he has studio releases. He rode that pony right into the ground, don’t you think?

Anyway, one summer night seven or so years ago, Thorogood was just what the doctor ordered. Everything came together perfectly, and I mean everything.