Dear Dad,
I'm sitting in LaGuardia waiting for Amy and the sweet boys. I can only imagine how excited you are to see Jake at 6 and Ben, who turns 3 tomorrow! You always were the first to call in the morning to wish Happy Birthday.
I just wrapped up two amazing weeks with Mom at her new place. While it was sad not to stay at the house that we called home for about 30 years, it was absolutely the right move at the right time for Mom to downsize. Last Friday night after Shabbat dinner, I paid a visit to the old house. I pictured you bringing Amy and me into our new home as toddlers. I smiled and pictured you walking our sweet dog Snoopy up and down the street. I saw my home runs raining down on the next-door neighbors' yard (thanks for throwing your pitches right down the middle of the strike zone!). I saw massive trees, which shower the yard and house with shade. We planted tiny trees (one merely became second base for my home run trots, only occasionally tall enough to swat down my long-balls), and they sprouted majestically in a wonderful setting for growth. Just like the home you and Mom made in which Amy and I could develop and grow into who we are today.
Our friends the Browns are Mom's new neighbors. Elinore commented on Amy's and my eulogies that they confirmed your obsession with us. I was pondering during this visit...how many fathers merit to be in attendance to see their son play Carnegie Hall (with the J.J. Pearce High School Symphonic Band) and their daughter as a contestant on the Wheel of Fortune; to attend Amy's graduation from Indiana and mine from Michigan; to cross the world to visit us, seeing Amy at home in France on her semester abroad and allowing me to play Israel tour guide when I was on OTZMA. Not bad!
Tuesday Mom and I took a ton of your music and music educational materials to your alma mater, the University of North Texas. You'll be pleased that those tools will be there for countless UNT students to come; they landed in the great hands of a group of true music aficionados in the library.
Then Wednesday we visited your grave. I hadn't been since the headstone Mom, Amy and I decided upon was put in place. In fact, when I last visited you in May 2011, the grass hadn't even come in yet. There's a young tree nearby that will also take shape and provide shade for your visitors from the Texas sun. You hear a constant hum of cars driving by on the Near North Dallas streets and the adjacent Central Expressway. It's surprisingly peaceful, a bit like the waves of the sea. I bet you enjoy the silence at night. I'd visit you then, but (thankfully), they lock the cemetery up at night.
About 40 years ago you and Mom left the friendly confines of Cincinnati and set up roots in the great Lone Star State, where you will rest eternally.
It's funny that you were the only thing that drew us downtown during my visit! Everything else was out west--my alma mater Michigan laid an egg against an unbelievable Alabama team. How they assembled that much talent in one state is pretty remarkable...I'm actually talking about the endless stream of Bama women that got on the massive jumbotron at Cowboys Stadium. It was good to catch up with some Wolverine friends nonetheless.
We saw Buddy Guy at the Bedford Blues Fest three years ago; this year I saw another favorite, Keb' Mo'. Then I enjoyed the most Texan of places--Fort Worth's Billy Bob's Texas, the world's largest honky tonk. The amazing Texas country singer-songwriter Robert Earl Keen officially wrapped up my summer of infinite concerts.
Then Mom and I brought home two winners as the Rangers nearly swept Cleveland (including middle infielder prodigy Jurickson Profar's first action at home in Texas), but old friend Andrew and I watched Joe Nathan's 31-save streak come to an end on a beautifully cool evening. The silver lining was being part of the crowd that pushed attendance at Rangers Ballpark over 3 million (!) for the first time. I don't think I'd been to three games in a row since our early-90's road trips to Houston to see your Cincinnati Reds in Texas. Your fatherly dedication was most conspicuous when you camped out overnight (!) to get us Rangers playoff tickets, but I'm blown away now to think how many hours you invested to take me early to so many games to watch batting practice and collect autographs.
Amy's about to get here. I miss you so much Dad, but I'll always remember all the concerts and games we attended, I'll remember your smile when a Dallas team won or at a family celebration, and of course I'll keep listening to your album the Sounds of Samuels and recall how you were on top of the world during that creative process. The picture at top, taken between sessions, is my new favorite. I love you so much and will keep doing my best to keep your positive spirit alive...
--
Wisdom gleaned among the piles of stuff I recycled at Mom's new place:
"I made stupid mistakes. I'm not ashamed of them. I made them and I admit that. To me, if you admit your mistakes, you don't have a problem dealing with yourself."
-Sparky Anderson, re. managing decisions in the 1972 and 1975 World Series.
About Marian McPartland, from a 1997 JazzTimes when she was 77:
"She'd call me up and say, 'Billy, have you heard so and so, and so and so..." Just kind of pointing the finger at someone else whose talent she admired."
-Billy Taylor
(sounds like you, Dad!)
"Marian is really quite a young lady; her chronological age has nothing to do with her curiosity and her sense for taking chances... She'll hear something and ask, 'What's that?' She's not afraid to ask questions, and the questions she asks are good ones... And that's how she keeps growing."
-Jack DeJohnette
(also sounds exactly like you!)
--
Neil Armstrong has also joined you upstairs. I smile thinking of you bouncing around together up on the Moon. You're surely also grinning from ear to ear.
As I mentioned in my previous post, the world lost an amazing jazz saxophonist and an unbelievably unique human being in Von Freeman a couple weeks back. His memorial was last month in Chicago--what I would have done to be able to be in Beer Sheva and Chicago at once...
As that couldn't be done, I'll reflect here about my experience with "Vonski."
After Vonski called you onto the stage with his quartet, giving you your nickname "Pops," very late into that Tuesday night, Vonski implored me to "cherish your Daddy." That was one of my proudest moments to be your son, watching you trade eights with a legend and my all-time favorite saxophonist!
Unlike so many who don't have the chance to express their feelings until it's too late, I am fully confident that I cherished you completely, and it was 100% reciprocated! What a gift.
My efforts to proselytize and bring everyone I knew in Chicago to see Vonski's priceless concerts were the closest I came to sharing your passion for spreading the music of Clare Fischer, Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Erroll Garner, Red Garland, Duke Ellington, Cannonball Adderley among so many others to so many students, friends and family, and fans from California to Japan who bought your CDs.
Vonski also shared your jazz spirit in embracing diversity--his crowds were the most remarkable mix of local South Siders, University of Chicago students, and students from colleges across Chicagoland who came and stayed late for the late-night jam session. And like you, he was so generous in opening the Tuesday gig to everyone who wanted to check it out by not charging cover.
This Chicago Tribune piece is so rich, with some priceless, hilarious tidbits on Von (and the saddening knowledge that such a generous man really struggled financially). Here's one of my old favorite TV shows, Chicago Tonight, featuring Von. Here's a nice reflection from the producer of one of Von's albums, featuring audio of a spectacular solo performance. This post gives a wonderful picture of the Tuesday night experience at the New Apartment Lounge.
Gotta run, my nephews are waiting for me!
Peace, love, and a wonderful new year to all.
Shabbat Shalom/שבת שלום
אריק/Eric
