1916

As I drove south on Crooks road, I did something that I always do as I pass Walnut street. I looked east toward Marywood street. 1916 Marywood. That is where my Grandma and Grandpa Taylor lived. The small house that was theirs was torn down for a small mansion to be built in its place. The garage had received the same treatment. At a glance, I saw the garage door was open. It looked like the old days to me and it really brought back some fond memories. Maybe my Grandpa had just arrived home from his job selling cars at Stark-Hickey Ford.

I wanted to go back and drive by but I knew the feeling would be gone as I looked at the lifeless mansion. So I held onto my glance and thought about J D and Leona Taylor. These were my Mom's parents. We used to all get together on Saturday and Sunday nights to watch Hee-Haw and Lawrence Welk. I guess my sister and I were mostly bored while we were there. I remember when I could hear the "we're getting ready to leave" tone in my parents' voice. I was always very ready to leave. Then, they would start talking about a new subject and the tone would go away for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, we would leave and the mile drive home would feel like it took about an hour. I would have given just about anything to stop by today and watch television with them again. Grandma Taylor until the day she died, loved Wheel Of Fortune. I would gladly turn back the hands of time for one of those nights as well.



I turned east onto 12 mile road. Tomorrow is garbage day and as I drove along, I saw an old card table leaning against a tiny tree. It's once white covering now very dirty and gray was torn in a few places and flapping in the gentle breeze. I wondered what kind of action it had seen. Endless games of Scrabble, Yahtzee, Old Maid and Monoploy. It could have been the kids table at countless Thanksgivings. A garage sale or two and maybe even some real poker games with guys in dress slacks and "shirt sleeves" smoking cigars and drinking Stroh's beer. Then, maybe a decade or two leaning quietly next to a furnace. Finally off to its final resting place. So long, dirty gray card table. You have had a long and useful life.



I then turned south onto Alexander street. The street I grew up on. I pulled into the driveway.
As I walked to the back door, this mild but crisp mid November night reminded me of the nights when I was maybe ten. You could smell the leaves that people were burning. I missed that smell.

New Phone

In the early 90's, I was doing laundry on Lincoln Avenue just north of Wrightwood. It is now an insurance agency.

An elderly man came in and looked around as if to say, "can someone help me?"

I approached him and asked him what he needed. He handed me a business card with a phone number written on the back. He needed to call the phone company and talk to someone about getting service.

The front of the business card was of particular interest to me because it said:

Sigmund Godla

Musician

It featured a drawing of him playing a violin. We talked a little about music, but he really wanted to make that phone call and he wanted me to dial the pay phone that was around the corner at the laundromat and talk to the phone company for him. So, I set him up. I told the lady at the phone company of his wishes, handed the phone over to him and went back to my laundry.

About a minute later, I heard him yelling. "Ahh!, WHAT?, Oh!, SHIT, WHAT?!, OH? It ended with the sound of the phone being slammed down.

I went over to see what had just happened.

Sigmund, being about 80 figured that he would talk to the people at the phone company and schedule an appointment for them to come install a phone and service in his apartment. Times had changed indeed.

I explained to him that the phone company no longer came out to install phones. I asked him if he knew if there was a phone jack in his room. He didn't know. We walked over to the building where he lived on Sheffield Avenue.

His place was small. A one bedroom apartment. But it must have had 6 phone jacks! Everything would be just fine.

Sigmund then showed me a three page list of tunes he liked to play. Tangerine, St. Louis Blues, There'll Never Be Another You, Summertime, On The Street Where You Live and many others. He went to the kitchen, opened the cupboard, reached over cans of chicken noodle soup, green beans and cream style corn to retrieve his violin, which was inside of an old "Be nice to me, I gave blood today" t- shirt. He explained that he kept it hid behind the canned goods to throw off potential burglars.

He then began playing Tangerine. He sang along as he played. Then, onto Flamingo. He was really good and loved to play.

We walked back to the laundromat and I called the phone company to set up his service. It would be active in a few days. I explained to Sigmund that I would come back in two days and we would go to Radio Shack and get him a phone.

We picked out an inexpensive but sufficient phone and went to his room. After everything was set up and the phone was working, it was time for more music.

St. Louis Blues, Skylark and Meet Me Tonight In Dreamland. He was very passionate and happy when he played. I had brought my camera and had him sit on the far left side of his sheet covered couch. He got a little anxious because I shot so much. I explained that I wanted the perfect shot.

I gave him back his song list which I had borrowed to make copies of, he put his violin back into its hiding place and we said goodbye.

I wonder about Sigmund when I am in that neighborhood and will always love Tangerine because of him.

Practicing

For v.

Bugs Bunny once said, "this calls for stragety." Here's mine for November 4th, 2010. Jeff Beck night at Zachary's For Cocktails. I have been listening to and stealing from Jeff Beck since I was 12 or 13. I feel like I have probably heard every note he has ever recorded (and then some). I have brushed up on the 11 songs we are doing.

The last time I practiced the exact thing I was going to play for hours on end, it was a disaster. So, what am I doing 24 hours before the gig? Playing Cindy Lauper, Billy Joel and Marcos Valle tunes. A musician I admire once told his bassist, "enough practicing!" Motown bass legend, James Jamerson's response to a producer's request to play a tune for the umpteenth time was, "rigor mortis is settin' in!" I feel like if I'm warmed up and ready, the guitar will almost play itself. I'm hoping.