John Harrelson's Blues

There are some things I know and understand inherently, as in, genetically or at the very least, prenatal components of my being. Two subjects (and more if you consider the connecting spider webs) I am unable to evade in any thought process; engineering and music.

Now, I am not a musician. There are physical talents, like perfect (or any) pitch and normal size fingers, I simply did not inherit. My mother, and grandfather, grandmother, and all my great-uncles (OK, not Luigi), were outstanding, actually recognized, world class musicians. The sound of perfectly played violins, cellos, violas, organs and pianos surrounded me in the womb and in my formative years. The perfection was a deterrent to me and I gave up my little fiddle by the age of six, after only four years of training. This was also when I stopped attending Mass everyday with my mother who played the organ each morning. The two occurrences probably are related.

But I understand and know music, all music, the primitive drums of the Inupiat and the philharmonic orchestra as well.

Another thing I know about is regularly being apprised of and dealing with my own mortality. Curiously, even though everybody dies, this knowledge is not inherent. It has been gained by experience: a little out of body here, a little white light there.

This brings me to my topic: John Harrelson.

I enjoyed my post-pubescence in Claremont, California. It was noted in those days for its rest homes, banks, colleges, artesian wells and citrus groves. It was also a navel of the music world, some resident like lint, some just passing through. One of those folks is John Harrelson, a great performer and a knowledgeable musician.

I don't know John well, our circles of folks, like set theory class, didn't have a lot of commonality. Though our lives have shared the same time and I woulda gone after Cindy when I was in high school 'cept I thought she was so far above me. But our love of music, especially, The Blues, the real Blues is certainly in harmony and has been most of my life. I've sought out John when ever I have been in his neck of the woods.

I've been reading John's blog. He seems kinda despondent. Apparently his doctors don't give him too long to live. That's a subject I know all about too. 'Course our attitudes are a bit different, I said "so what?", he says "fuck, fuck, fuck".

Here's what I think. I heard he is playing this Saturday at The Press in Claremont (curiously the building is part of my youth story too). I think anybody who wants to hear some great music aught to go on down, and while they're there toast him and celebrate his life, before he dies. Yep, this is a great opportunity, how often can ya tell I dead man you love him before he travels on. I can't make this one…but if there is another show…I'm gonna brave the long flight and see him one mo' time…if I live that long.