And then my father...

And then my father…

Carla, Mac and I went to see the other show our excellent stage manager Joe Witt was directing, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, at the Roxy on Sunday before last. More on that and all the whacky LA shiznit at a later date. Suffice to say a lot of tremendous stuff is happening for Carla around her show, and we are very glad for that…

Pema Chodron, the incredibly wise Buddhist monk, observes that it is never the thing you anticipate that floors you, and inevitably something you don’t anticipate will floor you – the only permanent thing in life is impermanence.

When we got home from the very loud show at the Roxy, ears ringing, Carla was exhausted and went to sleep. I decided to check my email at midnight and got this email from my sister telling me my father was in the hospital, suffering from delirium and couldn’t walk. She had emailed me because she couldn’t find my cell #. The situation sounded very dire. My father is already suffering from Parkinson’s and other ailments, so this looked pretty grim. I involuntarily exclaimed “oh no, oh shit” and Mac came running in. I told him what had happened, and we hugged and eventually wept. In the midst of my anguish over my father’s condition I was so moved by something my son said to me. “If you love your Dad as much as I love you I am so sad for you, and I can’t even imagine how bad you must feel.” To know that a macho 14 year old could express this to his father was so powerful for me that I had to cry some more, and I am not remotely a big one for crying. As a matter of fact, I believe very strongly that most men, including yours truly, express their pain through anger, humor or sarcasm, something I am working on. At its worst it manifests itself in the horrors we are currently seeing in the MidEast and elsewhere. Fear of vulnerability, of the “female” side, causes us to lash out in verbal and physical rage. So to see my son be able to share like that was something to be very proud of as a parent. I think other parents I know will understand what I am saying.

So much rushes through one’s mind in these situations. Of course, when I was growing up I had 3 heroes, John Lennon, Bobby Kennedy and my father. He seemed a man of unstinting integrity, incredible wisdom and brilliance and almost intimidating moral clarity. As I have grown into adulthood, and especially looked more closely at how I grew up and what demons I have, I now no longer deify him (or Kennedy or Lennon for that matter). Still, what I can say is that he did the absolute best job he was capable of and gave me many great gifts. I left home when I was 18 to pursue my art and craft as a jazz player, moving 3000 miles away, and have never returned to Vancouver since, except to visit. I think that is one thing that makes what is happening now so painful, knowing that that fine, incisive and revelatory mind could be stilled for all intents and purposes, and as I got the daily reports I was torn and anguished about whether to go up.

Carla was extremely supportive, even though she is in the middle of a show that is a huge career move for her, and told me I should go, and that she and Mac would go too if it would help. From the other end, my sister and mother told me to stay, since he was getting excellent care in the facility, was not in any immediate danger of dying, and would not necessarily recognize me if I did come. He would want me to stay through the run of Carla's show, someone he loved like his own daughter. Still, I knew the situation could change at any moment, so I canceled my trip up to the Bay Area to teach at the Jazzschool camp this week, since it would be too tricky travel-wise if I did need to suddenly head up to Canada.

It’s an odd feeling to go through this. When I have encountered potential or actual death before, it has seemed very right to tell the person I was close to how sorry I was for their loss, even at times where I felt great loss, because it was always the case that their loss was greater than mine, even in the case of my grandparents. Now, I guess I am starting to look at a point where I will be a primary griever. When I have felt moments of utter despair around this, it has been an experience like someone physically ripping a part of your soul or essence out of your body. It is such a universal experience, I know, but, like falling in love or becoming a parent, it is an experience that one cannot possibly empathize with until it happens to you.

My father is still here and I am hopeful that perhaps he will recover, although even if he does there is no doubt he will be diminished, probably having to give up his beloved tennis forever, and he and my mother will probably have to move to a floor through and get some help for him. The show ends on August 6, and barring some dramatic change, I am planning to go up there after that to see him. I hope he knows who I am, because I want him to know all the beautiful things I think he is.

Perhaps this all seems a little too confessional for a blog entry, but hey, it is life, and I am confident that at least some of you reading this have gone through it. I have been deeply moved by the support I have received from friends and family around this, but in the end, we walk through this alone, every one of us. I will simply leave you with this: Jacob Zilber has shaped my life in ways simple and profound, I love him beyond expression and I am powerfully grateful to have had him as my father. As for you, faithful readers? It never hurts to let the ones you love know that, so get off the screen, and go kiss your wife or kids or dog or whomever.

LA letter, part 2

So it is about 9:50 am and believe it or not, it is early in our LA household. I am the first one up, as we caught Eddie Izzard with the groundlings at the coronet after our show last night. The performance was fun. Izzard is not nearly the improviser that the 3 groundling men were, so I enjoyed it best when they were on. Also, disconcerting to see a few starfuckers, one in particular, howl with laughter at every utterance of Izzard’s. Seemed very insincere, but also emblematic of a large # of fairly faux people in the LA entertainment industry. I told Mac you could throw a brick into the line waiting to get in to see Izzard and probably 1/2 the people hit would be shopping themselves as actors, writers, directors, etc…just like if you did that in North Berkeley 1/2 of them would be on their way to a yoga class.

It is an interesting phenomenon, this LA schedule, since back in Albany, usually everyone else is asleep by 11, so whether or not I have a gig, I am up by myself late. Now, I am in the unusual position of being up earlier, a very uncharacteristic place for me to be in.

Nothing too earth-shattering to report. I have continued to go out and listen to music and sat in with a group of LA fusion stars the other night at Lavelee’s, one of the 3 big fusion hangs in the area. This night it was Scott Kinsey, Scott Henderson, Gary Novak and Dave Carpenter. I had played with Carpenter on a gig with Steve Smith back in Seattle a few years back and we had hooked up well musically. He is a nice cat and great player so it was definitely fun to jump into the fusion storm. I am also planning a couple of hits with Michael Barsimanto before the end of July. He plays in a cool, loose and modern style. Not at all surprising since Lieb recommended him. One thing that is clear is that I thrive musically when I play with world-class players, and that is sporadic for me back in the Bay, so I need to continue branching out and making contacts all over.

The show continues to go well – the audiences are uniformly positive about Carla’s show, so now it is a waiting game to see if it makes sense for her to continue. There is a ratio of paid full-price to comps we have to reach, in order for it to be feasible. I think overall it is a fantastic experience for her to be pushing herself and pursuing her dream and it is absolutely allowing me to think about what my dream is, and am I living it. If not how do I make that happen?

Mac seems to be thriving here for the most part. He is improving his basketball game, getting in terrific condition and being a very cool and cooperative young man. I think it is a little hard on him that the only interaction he is having with kids his own age is on the basketball court, but it is also excellent that he is being stretched out of his comfort zone and adapting well. He is getting much more relaxed and outgoing with adults and is charming and witty for the most part. I asked him if he wanted to come back up to the Bay area with me when I do my week at the Jazzschool, and his immediate response was, no, that’s kind of like quitting the mile 1/2 way through. I think he enjoys a lot of what we do here, and finds the city and schedule conducive.

It is hard to believe that a year ago at this time, I was traversing the streets of Paris, a journey of introspection and discovery. I still have a small blue stone brought back from Rue Rambuteau as a keepsake of that lovely visit, and I did not imagine back then in Paris that I would be in Los Angeles today. So prognostications of the future are pretty much futile, I think. I won’t even venture a guess as to where I’ll be a year from now – hopefully touring Europe with my own group. The true Buddhists are folks I admire immensely, since they are able to be in the moment without any expectations of the future. Kind of like zen stock brokers – past performance is no guarantee of future results. As I watch my father slip, see my son blossom, it is odd to dig back through my vague memories. Pictures help, and videos help more, but when I look at them, they are stirrings and tuggings, and also different people. The young, long-haired slim man swinging the arms of his delighted and beaming 2 year old is not me and it is not Mac. We are only now and I am doing my best to embrace the moment and gather enough knowledge to have some sense of what I should do next. All I do know is that I have this show to the end of the month, and we will see what life brings after that. More will be revealed as the saying goes…