TOM PETTY R.I.P.

First time I heard Tom Petty, I dismissed him as just a Dylan imitator. Then, on a visit to my friend Karen Allen's apartment in Manhattan, she insisted I listen to his newest album, DAMN THE TORPEDOES, and when I heard "Refugee" it spoke so clearly to where I was at then emotionally and mentally, it became my anthem from that moment on for the next few years. "You don't have to live like a refugee," I'd remind myself often. Thanks Tom for that and so much more in other songs and albums.

The only time I encountered Petty in person was during the time of his being a part of The Traveling Wilburys, when for one magical moment at a party at Carrie Fisher's, a friend from Jersey and I ended up in a room where Petty, Dylan, and George Harrison were passing a guitar around and singing songs, or riffing on the songs of others, with lots of messing with each other...just them in three easy chairs with a few young, beautiful women—unfortunately like the most obvious cliche—"sitting at their feet."

Still, a sweet memory musically.