We watched the videotape of the performance again and again, and around five in the morning I drove the band back up to the Paramount and dropped them off. I still have that same tape I made of the Conan show that night, and whenever I need a lift, into the VCR it goes. I can still pick out some of the voices of my New York friends screaming and yelling on it, and I can still vividly remember what it felt like to share one of Ronnie's greatest moments with him so closely.

Which just makes it that much harder to write this. In November of 2001, Ronnie was found to have cancer on his right tonsil. He underwent radiation therapy and chemo, and as of June 13th of last year had been told everything was just fine. He had pretty much stopped touring, but still played some of the bigger RAB festivals in the States and Europe. Despite the picture here, Ronnie wasn't much of a smoker. He'd light a butt or pipe up very occasionally, when the mood struck him, but the truth is Ronnie is a health nut. He stil runs ten miles a day, and while on the road he carried a juicer with him and fairly lived on a concoction of carrot, spinach, and apple juice (nastiest-looking stuff you ever saw, trust me - looks like something you'd see in the south end of a north-bound dirty diaper).

But this past weekend I got one of the most depressing e-mails I have ever in my life received. The cancer is back; it has invaded his tongue and lungs, and is essentially incurable. The only possible treatment is removal of his tongue and jaw, along with part of his lung, which would leave him unable to speak, sing, or even eat, and would only give him another year or so at best anyway. He has declined to put himself and his family through this and decided to live out his time in as enjoyable a way as possible. He's doing a show February 26th: the Rockabilly Rave in the UK, which will quite likely be his last show ever. I urge any of you over there who ever cared even the smallest bit about rock and roll to be there, and to give the Blonde Bomber a rebel yell for me.

And I really don't have much else to say here, except this: Ronnie, I love you. I wish there was something I could do to change all this. Thank you for the good times, and the wonderful music. And as long as I draw breath myself, I swear you won't be forgotten, my friend. Enjoy your time with us, no matter how short it may turn out to be. Another thirty years wouldn't be enough anyway, for some of us. And take comfort in the joy you brought to so many over the years, if you can, for it's a gift that so few of us ever receive, and so few nowadays even seem to appreciate when they have it.