My B.B.King story: When we were teenagers, circa 1975, my friend Laura and I were gaga for a cover band we met in Miami Beach. My indulgent parents took us all over the country to see them perform, including Las Vegas, where they were opening for B.B. King at the Hilton. After watching the show a few nights in a row, the two of us talked our way backstage one night. (Not uncommon Lucy and Ethel behavior for us.) When passing King's dressing room, which was filled with people and music, we struck up conversation with some young folks spilling into the hallway. Then King called out, waving us in. Turns out it was his birthday party, and we were invited to stay. King was enthralling the well wishers with stories, his guitar Lucille on his knee, a huge spread of food on offer. Braver than I, Laura asked to touch Lucille, which he allowed. Then we watched as a bodyguard (guitarguard?) took Lucille and placed her under lock and key. King was so gracious to two silly teenagers, and I remember his wonderful laugh. At one point, the members of the cover band walked by the open door, looking rather gobsmacked to see us in there. King told us, "invite your friends in," so we did. Great memory of a legendary musician. RIP.