This cerulean blue I have seen only once
Clear Hawaiian sky reflected in a pool
But that a trick of the painted azure/aqua walls beneath the water
Your eyes, then, some new miracle of genetics
Your older brother's eyes, the exact hazel of his mother
Followed my every move; copied my every action
Holding me daily as the revered icon I might never live up to
But yours never met my gaze
Always askance; always beyond my shoulder;
The ceiling; the floor;
The toy plate you learned to spin on the coffee table
Endlessly drawn into some deeper truth
In its oscillating, ever-quickening perigee of plastic on wood
Your brother relished every minute of human contact,
Never happy to be released from our embrace
Until sleep finally arrested him
You preferred to simply be placed in the crib
Our hugs and kisses a barely tolerable annoyance in your routine
Of constant smiles at a world seen through corners of the eye
She knew before I did, these signs glaring
But words failed her and she waited for doctors to announce
This unwanted paradigm, some new mystery of genetics
A day later, diagnosis in hand, tears wiped away
Your smile never abated and you were, after all, our little bear
Autism is just a word; its logotype a dark cerulean puzzle piece
James is a universe,
A blur of elan, frolic, giggles
Intervention; acceptance; therapy; love
Each day another lesson for you to engage
Another lesson for us to beckon but never pull
Each day another miracle of fulfillment
Now those eyes find mine and I melt like a spent candle
Burned in cerulean flame
Now those hugs come and I finally understand why you always smiled
Your love unhindered by any genetic definition
Friday, October 21, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Frost in autumn
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And doubting I could not travel both,
I did
Keeping one foot on each for twenty-six years...
By this point, most of you know that Sharp Circle Band is hanging it up as of November 4th. That was precipitated at least in part by my decision to take some time off from the crazy world of gigging. I've gotten too old to take myself seriously as the 44-year-old funk/rock guitarist in a band of 30-year-olds playing mostly in bars that cater to 21-year-olds, and frankly people... I'm tired. With three amazing but busy sons, seven, five and three years old, and a full-time legal career, my recovery from a weekend of gigging has begun stretching past Sundays into Mondays and even Tuesdays. Not good.
Moreover, while just a year ago I was writing entries for this blog about relishing every wedding we played, the simple fact is that brides and grooms most often continue to be in their early 20s and we keep on aging (damn it all) and keep on playing music from the 70s and 80s. The gulf of being in touch with our patrons and clients is growing wider and wider.
Just this past summer, another band I gig with--an 80s cover band--was paid a lot of money to play three hours of music but was stopped after less than 45 minutes because the young attendees only wanted to hear Gaga, Ke$ha and Usher from an iPod. Part of that was certainly the fault of the bride and groom for hiring an 80s cover band and then not telling any of their friends and family they did so, but I can tell you I can't think of a more miserable experience involving playing music than I had that day.
I think the highlight of my career was getting to open for Smokey Robinson this past July 4th, and even then a combination of Smokey's control issues and a fatuous, self-important emcee cut our performance from 90 minutes to just over 30. Nonetheless it was a musical high I won't forget, if unfortunately overshadowing every gig that followed.
As I write these words, I have four shows left on the books. Quite frankly I'd rather have metal skewers driven into my skull than to play this coming Friday at the Northwest side's beach-volleyball asylum of suck, but after that we have a fun private party in Cleveland, a sure-to-amuse Halloween weekend gig, and our final going-away performance at Park Street Tavern on November 4th, for which our original bassist is flying back from California to help us us bring the Sharp Circle slam one final time. That will be a wonderful if emotional night, because frankly I'm not sure when I'll pick up a guitar in public again.
It's been a great ride. I've been honored and blessed to be able to play with bands like Soul Kitch'n, UberGroove, JusTus, Chess King, 456, Paradise Island, New Basics Brass Band and of course the phenomenally talented members of Sharp Circle. I've been able to release three albums of my own songs over the years, jam with other musicians around the globe, and do tons of studio dates with amazing songwriters and players.
But at the risk of destroying all of my accumulated prosaic credibility by quoting Little River Band, it's time for a cool change. I can't promise you I'm going to deal particularly well with it at first, but I'm curious as hell to see what comes next. One way or another I'm pretty sure it will involve writing. Just your luck; that'll probably mean more blogging.
Yeah, Frost, I hear you laughing.
And doubting I could not travel both,
I did
Keeping one foot on each for twenty-six years...
By this point, most of you know that Sharp Circle Band is hanging it up as of November 4th. That was precipitated at least in part by my decision to take some time off from the crazy world of gigging. I've gotten too old to take myself seriously as the 44-year-old funk/rock guitarist in a band of 30-year-olds playing mostly in bars that cater to 21-year-olds, and frankly people... I'm tired. With three amazing but busy sons, seven, five and three years old, and a full-time legal career, my recovery from a weekend of gigging has begun stretching past Sundays into Mondays and even Tuesdays. Not good.
Moreover, while just a year ago I was writing entries for this blog about relishing every wedding we played, the simple fact is that brides and grooms most often continue to be in their early 20s and we keep on aging (damn it all) and keep on playing music from the 70s and 80s. The gulf of being in touch with our patrons and clients is growing wider and wider.
Just this past summer, another band I gig with--an 80s cover band--was paid a lot of money to play three hours of music but was stopped after less than 45 minutes because the young attendees only wanted to hear Gaga, Ke$ha and Usher from an iPod. Part of that was certainly the fault of the bride and groom for hiring an 80s cover band and then not telling any of their friends and family they did so, but I can tell you I can't think of a more miserable experience involving playing music than I had that day.
I think the highlight of my career was getting to open for Smokey Robinson this past July 4th, and even then a combination of Smokey's control issues and a fatuous, self-important emcee cut our performance from 90 minutes to just over 30. Nonetheless it was a musical high I won't forget, if unfortunately overshadowing every gig that followed.
As I write these words, I have four shows left on the books. Quite frankly I'd rather have metal skewers driven into my skull than to play this coming Friday at the Northwest side's beach-volleyball asylum of suck, but after that we have a fun private party in Cleveland, a sure-to-amuse Halloween weekend gig, and our final going-away performance at Park Street Tavern on November 4th, for which our original bassist is flying back from California to help us us bring the Sharp Circle slam one final time. That will be a wonderful if emotional night, because frankly I'm not sure when I'll pick up a guitar in public again.
It's been a great ride. I've been honored and blessed to be able to play with bands like Soul Kitch'n, UberGroove, JusTus, Chess King, 456, Paradise Island, New Basics Brass Band and of course the phenomenally talented members of Sharp Circle. I've been able to release three albums of my own songs over the years, jam with other musicians around the globe, and do tons of studio dates with amazing songwriters and players.
But at the risk of destroying all of my accumulated prosaic credibility by quoting Little River Band, it's time for a cool change. I can't promise you I'm going to deal particularly well with it at first, but I'm curious as hell to see what comes next. One way or another I'm pretty sure it will involve writing. Just your luck; that'll probably mean more blogging.
Yeah, Frost, I hear you laughing.
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