


I am scheduled to meet Ray Barbee for an interview at 1:00 p.m., July 21, 2004. It is now 12:57 p.m. Will he be nice, mean, cool or cold? I wonder. I knew him as little more than a photo in a skate mag, and a Fender postcard where he is smiling, sitting on his amp, pretending to play guitar. I was in a room with him once for a private screening of The Passion of the Christ. He got away before I could shake his hand.