![]() ![]() Any season, particularly fall and winter, could use the rouge of peach. Peach is a warm color a happy color a soft color. I was tempted to ask her, like on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, “Final answer?” The pronouncement, without doubt, came from a rather frumpy, round-faced saleswoman behind a cluttered counter. If you ever have a chance, go see and hear them! ‘Cause, I said to myself, if I love something, how can I fear it?Ī special shout out to the spectacular group Mina for being my sign. That evening, I sat at the computer and fired off an ad for a musician-collaborator. On the way home, I thought about the past winter’s commute, my miserable manager, and-oh yeah-can’t forget the dog shit.Īnd, because I am the kind of person who has a neurotic need to look for meaning in everything, I took “Singing Takes Away the Blues” as a sign. The question, however, was: how much risk (yeah, yeah… in this economy) at my age (sigh) was I willing to take? Then, as if on mental cue, the group began an original tune “Singing Takes Away the Blues.” My feet tapped the ground, but my heart settled in my throat and tears filled my eyes. So danco samba, So danco samba, vai, vai, vai, vai, vai… I was sitting in a park listening to a Brazilian band, and I had been singing along. I recalled this conversation as I rinsed my muddy, shit-streaked boots in the bath tub.įast forward to the summer after my fall. He stared compassionately at me for a moment, wished me luck and turned away. ![]() “If you love something,” he asked softly, “how can you fear it?” With the word fear, the jazz master’s eyes glazed over, and he didn’t miss a beat (no pun intended). I paused, shuffled my feet, and coyly said something about working to clear up debts right now, and fluffed it up with some stuff about overcoming fear of pursuing my dream. She’s a singer.” My heart beat like Ellington’s band playing “Take the A-Train.” ![]() I told him I sang jazz and his eyes lit up. There I was, face to face with the jazz master himself. Many years ago, I had a chance to meet one of my heroes, the late, great jazz saxophonist Illinois Jacquet. Look at the economy.” Ouch.įrom cradle to paycheck, I’ve adapted to other people’s times, places, and priorities. I had taken a “safe” job that in the end was devastatingly toxic. Later that evening, over my own glass of wine, I asked myself how I had become so risk-averse when it came to following my dreams. She derived her own happiness from-and I quote-“…dashing people’s dreams.” But she’s not the story here. I was suffering a dogged commute into the City of Brotherly Love and working for a rigid, mean-spirited manager who could suck the joy juice out of a dinosaur. But, for me, having been blessed with a neurotic need to find meaning in every little thing, I looked for mystery an answer from the universe. Now, for most people, a fall would just be a fall. Pulling my hand out of the dog shit and wiping it on my coat, I cursed the jackass who didn’t scoop. So, I lay there for a moment allowing the freezing rain to pelt my face as I took long, deep breaths and began to cry. I had fallen in winter before slipped on ice and broken my ankle. I had braced myself with my right hand, only to feel my wrist sink-deep into- unbelievable-a pile of wet, slimy, dog shit. My left leg splayed to the left my right leg to the right. I had stepped off the commuter train a few minutes before and was taking a shortcut through the parking lot when I stepped onto a grassy strip and fell. Should we call the police? She’s all covered in mud.” She: (peering over her glass of Pinot Grigio). I was covered from head to toe in dirt and everything about me-coat, hat, bags-was askew. I could just imagine the conversation of any one of the young couples inside the upscale suburban restaurant as I slogged by the windows. ![]()
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