My dad died in 2003 of a rare form of lung cancer, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him. He wasn’t just my dad, he was my best friend. We hung out, played music together, played hooky from work to go see movies, all kindsa great things.
I’ll never forget calling him while I was between classes at Southern Miss to check in about work (he’d pay me part-time to do courier work for his business), and he said, “Edwin McCain. House of Blues. New Orleans. We can be there in an hour.” He zipped by campus, I jumped in the car, and we rocked out to Sting’s “Mercury Falling” album all the way down to NOLA, skipping out on class and clients. Great show, great food, great times. Miss ya, Dougie.