|Photo Credit: Flickr|
First, unless you have been living under a rock, I assume you have at least heard the name Bob Marley. Just in case you are not familiar with him, Bob Marley is a reggae legend. Basically, he is the individual responsible for getting reggae music out of Jamaica and spreading it to a worldwide audience. He was by no means the “first” reggae artist to find popularity outside of Jamaica. However, his music was heavily influenced by the political and social issues facing Jamaica and the lyrics he used in his music seemed to resonate with a wide variety of people from around the globe.
Ok – there is your six line intro to Bob. Back to how he knocked me up.
As you are all aware from my blog name (Hybrid RASTA Mama), I love, LOVE, LOOOOOVE reggae music. Don’t get me wrong, Bob Marley is great and all (and I would enjoy his music even if he was not my baby’s daddy) but there is so much more to reggae than Bob. So. Much. More.
In February 2002, I was fortunate enough to travel to San Diego with the company I worked for (we had won a profitability contest) at the exact same time that there was a HUGE Bob Marley Day music festival. Now, I had been to my fair share of reggae concerts and festivals but I had never gone alone. There was no way that I was missing this since the travel and lodging we already covered as part of this work trip. So, I bought the concert ticket and stayed an extra day to attend the festivities.
Long story short, before the first performer took the stage I was wandering around checking out all of the vendors. I struck a conversation with a handsome young man who I thought was Jamaican. (Turns out he was not). But no matter, he was a really nice guy and eventually asked me where I lived. I was a little bummed telling him that I was from Sacramento, a ten hour drive or 2 hour plane ride away. He chuckled and said that he was also from “Sac” and had flown down to San Diego to help his mom with the show. I got goosebumps. I mean, how cool is that? So we exchanged phone numbers under the auspices of me helping him find some temporary work (I worked for an employment agency) while the company he was with was slow.
We met for lunch the week after the concert (which was AWESOME by the way. The concert, not lunch). Lunch was great and all and this hot young guy was pretty cool but I never heard from him again. Oh well. No biggie.
Fast forward to February 2003. It was literally the day before the Bob Marley Festival in San Diego. I was at a new company and we had that day off because it was a holiday. On a whim (and not at all thinking of that hot guy) I bought a concert ticket, bought a plane ticket, rented a car, and headed down south. I have no idea what possessed me to do this other than my great love of reggae. There was a Bob Marley Day festival closer to home the following weekend but something told me to go to San Diego. So I did.
There were all kinds of technical issues at the venue and they had us all waiting outside for hours. The doors to the venue opened and the first performer was already on stage. (Never mind the delays…these guys were sticking to a schedule!) I had to pee soooooo bad but wanted to get down to the stage area so I literally ran into the main lobby area, turned to find the closet latrine and literally ran smack into that hot guy I had met last year. He was so happy to see me. I said a quick hello, told him I was find him later and off I went.
After the 8 hour show was over, I headed to the vendor area and found that hot guy helping his mom pack up. We chatted for a bit and then since I had 6 hours to kill before my 6am flight, I helped pack up too. Turns out that this dude lost my number after our lunch date. Yeah, whatever. Likely story. I gave him my number again but didn’t get my hopes up. He gave me his number too but promised to call.
|Photo Credit: Flickr|
A week passed and I had not heard a word from this guy. Something was nagging at me though so I decided that I was going to call him the next day. I was heading to a reggae show in town that night and figured I would call and rub it in the next day. I never got that chance.
Hot guy had yet again lost my number but somehow remembered me saying that I was going to a reggae show in Sacramento that weekend. I never told him what show or where it was but he found me. (Side note – the show I was at was four of Bob Marley’s sons. Wicked cool I tell you). Anyhoo, I felt a tap on my shoulder in the middle of the concert and hot guy was standing there smiling at me. I was floored. He looked sooooooooooooooo good. Oh. My. Gawd. Seriously. He looked HOT. And he went through a lot of trouble to track me down. He even said he “lost me once and was not about to let that happen again.”
Fast forward to 2006 and hot guy and I were married in an intimate ceremony in Jamaica. Oddly enough, I walked down the aisle to a Bob Marley song. (Not planned. Rasta Daddy found this random reggae band walking down the beach an hour before our wedding and hired them. They choose to play some Bob.)
Fast forward to June 2009 and Bob Marley got me pregnant. You see, if Bob Marley had not brought worldwide attention to reggae music, I may very well have never been blessed with discovering all that it had to offer. If I did not become a die hard fan, I would never have attended the Bob Marley Day festival in San Diego. I would not have met and then “re-met” Rasta Daddy. We would not have gotten married. And Tiny would not be here.
See… I TOLD you that Bob Marley got me pregnant. And you didn’t believe me. Shame on you!
Yours in sweet reggae music,