The Long Lost Little Black Book Love Song: A Tribute

“So, your ‘Tribute Song’ started it all. Do you have any other ‘greatest’ songs in the world that you can’t remember?”

“I’m so glad you asked, Seth.” Jack winked at the audience as he leaned across the couch towards his accommodating host. The comedian/musician was making the rounds of all of the late night talk shows; and this pre-arranged conversation starter and the ensuing banter had been going viral on social media and was proving to be a ratings hit.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Jack began wistfully. “We were just starting out, so this was back in oh, October 1994. We had just wrapped up a set in Chicago and hit a local cantina for some tex-mex and tequilas. I’m sitting in the corner thinking to myself, ‘Man, we really need more than one song;’ and then the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen shyly approaches me. She’s wearing a sombrero, and has a shot of tequila in one hand and a little black book in the other."

“She’s wearing a...sombrero?” the host asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I think they made you wear a sombrero if you did a shot of tequila. It was HOT, Seth, HOT! Anyway, she says something to me, but I pretend I can’t hear her over the loud music just so she has to get closer to me. Smooth, huh? She blushes, and whispers in my ear that she is getting married in a couple of weeks and for her bachelorette party her bridesmaids have given her this little black book that she needs to get filled with names just in case things don’t work out, and would I please, please write something in it?”

The audience laughed. “Are you serious?” asked the host. “That is great!”

“Yeah, great.” Jack deflated. “In one moment my hopes were lifted and destroyed. I poured all of my conflicting feelings of love, hope, heartache into my entry into her little black book and joined Kyle at the bar to drown my sorrows.”

Jack bowed in response to the audience’s collective groan.

“So wait,” the host looked from the audience to Jack, “so you’re saying the lyrics to the ‘greatest love song in the world’ are written in some little black book that’s been lost since 1994?”

“Yep,” sighed Jack. “What I would give to get that back. I can’t remember what I wrote, and I haven’t been able to recreate such a raw and pure love song. That’s why we’re offering a $20,000 reward to whoever can ‘Find the Little Black Book Love Song.’”

# # #

“Hey, Hon. Didn’t your sister make you do something like this at your bachelorette party?” Nolan asked his wife as she joined him in the living room in front of the TV.

“What’s this?” Jenna watched for a bit and laughed. “Oh, that was so embarrassing! Asking total strangers to sign that damn book...I could’ve killed her!””

“They wrote some pretty funny stuff if I remember correctly.” Nolan chuckled and sipped his beer. “Hang on. October 1994. Some cantina in Chicago. You don’t think…”

Jenna gaped at the TV. “I doubt it. I mean, my party was at El Jardin…”

“And there are photos of you wearing a sombrero...” Nolan chimed in.

“Nah.” Jenna shook her head. “Nobody wrote any songs in the book.”

“Are you sure?” Nolan looked excited. “Do you still have the book?”

Jenna shrugged. “It’s probably stashed with all of our wedding stuff downstairs.”

Nolan jumped up laughing and headed to the stairs. “Oh good. I’m glad you don’t keep it somewhere handy.”

Jenna punched him on the arm. “I might just start…”

A few minutes later Nolan came upstairs with the wedding crate. Their three high school aged children had pulled their eyes away from their devices and were filled in on the quest. They enjoyed looking at old photos, cards, and items; remarking on how much hair their dad and uncles used to have. All three were horrified by the idea of removing the garter at a wedding, and found the entire idea of a little black book incredibly amusing.

Conor, the youngest and most avid sports fan of the family, uncovered the black book and started going through it. “Whoa! Hey, Mom! I think you got an autograph from a basketball player! Yeah! Check it out: Tom Kleinschmidt! He used to play for DePaul!”

“What?” His older brother, Dylan, snatched the book out of his hands. “Huh. Too bad he didn’t go pro - this could’ve been worth money.”

They looked through each of the pages and got a good laugh, but nothing stood out as a love song; although there was one very ribald "roses are red" poem. Jillian, the oldest, squealed, “Eww gross, Mom! Listen to this one:

Jenna, you vixen! You didn’t tell me you were a contortionist! I’m going to be sore for weeks. Call me anytime. -J.B.”

Nolan busted up laughing, “Oh my! I think we found it! Jills, what’s that contact email?”