Fireworks! ...and now I have Kenny Rogers' cell phone number

Tonight the family went out to see Fourth of July fireworks at the local park. Last year we were on Hilton Head Island when we saw the fireworks. We watched them from one of the plantations, right on the water. It was a great setting and Big Sis really enjoyed her first fireworks display.
This year the park we were at was pretty small, and we could see the mortars setup at the other end of the park. I set out blankets earlier in the evening to reserve us some prime picnic and viewing space, and it made all the difference: we were very close to our car, to the consessions, to the play ground, to the band. It also meant that we were very close to the fireworks.
We had been talking up the fireworks display to the kids for a few days now. Big Sis was excited about them. I don't know if she remembered last year's event, but she was looking forward to seeing fireworks tonight.
Dusk settled in and we picked up our picnic area so that we didn't have to when it got dark. As the band was winding down, we strapped Big Sis and her friend, James, into our double-wide stroller. I can call it a double-wide stroller. I live in the Deep South. James is about the same age as Big Sis, give-or-take a few months, and is a regular, rough-and-tumble boy. It seemed like a good place to put them, in case they fell asleep, they would already be ready for the walk to the cars.
The moment the first explosion roared very close overhead, the two kids freaked out. Screaming for mommies and squirming to be released from their bindings, they flailed wide-eyed as bomb after bomb burst into bright lights in the sky. Once in her mother's arms, Big Sis stared blankly at the ground, occasionally wincing at the noise above. James jogged in place, crying, as he was put into pajamas by his mother. He held his hands over his eyes and cowered later in his father's lap. It wasn't long before Big Sis passed out from fear and exhaustion. She slept through the rest of the show.
Which brings me to the point of writing this whole story...
As we were packing up after the show, Big Sis's Grandpa picked up a cell phone off the ground. Obviously lost, I took it from him to deal with the responsibility of finding its owner. I figured that they would eventually call their own cell phone to try to figure out where it was. I'd do the same if it were me who had lost a cell phone.
On our ride home, my Wonderful Wife suggested I browse though the phone list in case there is a listing for "Home". Sure enough, there was a listing for "Home" and I decided to call that number in the morning.
Natural curiousity encouraged me to continue scrolling through the list of names. My curiosity paid off when I came across the name "Kenny Rogers". Holy Smokes! Could it be? Could it be true?? Do I now have access to The Gambler's cell phone? What luck!
Natural curiousity encouraged me to dial the number.
No answer.
I will try it again until I get in touch with him. What would I say? "Love your Chicken, Kenster." Maybe he is free for our New Year's Eve party and would like to make an appearance! What do you think I should say to Kenny Rogers when I call him?