remembering Mike

When I was 18 I met Mike Johnson at a bar in Edmonton. He was working the door for the band. He was sick with a cold. He was wearing a green and yellow plaid shirt. It was the second time I’d seen that particular band since I’d moved to town. The first time was at Blues on Whyte, and he’d been doing sound for them. This time around Mike made a point of going out of his way to talk to me.

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