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Slivers from my lifeline...

2007-09-24

Good morning Boys and Girls.

Over the weekend, amid some wonderful hours of sparkling conversation, I was reminded of a couple of events from my youth.

Two of the memories that somehow jumped out of my head to be offered as lame responses, or unwitting attempts to "one-up" - something I'd never do intentionally, but worry I may do without meaning to from time to time - involve seeing Victor Borge, the funny Danish pianist and comedian at the old Orchestra Hall in Detroit when I was in Junior High, and the time, a few years later, when I was acting as the pianist/organist for a dying Church in Highland Park Michigan, that Duke Ellington and his Orchestra came to play a benefit Concert to help prop up the church.

Both performances were impeccable and made lasting impressions on me, though being peripherally involved in helping with the Duke Ellington performance - one of his last actually (I arranged for the rental of a bunch of folding chairs and the risers on which the orchestra sat) made that particular event truly special.

The concert raised quite a lot of money and was a rousing success, but alas, the church still folded a couple of months later and I lost the only job I've ever had in a church. I remember playing Elton John's ever-so-secular "Funeral for a Friend" as the recessional for the final service.

Hey, I was a kid.

Last night upon returning home, I saw that Marcel Marceau had died. I, like everyone else I know, hate mimes as a matter of principle - especially marginally talented street mimes who trap you when you're walking toward your hotel in Manhattan and force you to watch part of their routine and drop a buck or two into whatever glass box they've created before allowing you to pass - but I saw Marcel Marceau at some point on that same Orchestra Hall stage, and I was mesmerized.

After the performance, as we audience members walked out of the theater, I remember someone ahead of me commenting that Marceau had been "past his prime," that he'd "lost some of his luster," and I remember wondering how he could have ever been more amazing than he'd been that night... On the other hand, I'd never seen him perform as a younger man.

Sometimes I wish I'd seen more of the performers who entertained the people of my parents era and brought smiles to those of "the greatest generation." I know those three, whom I saw only when they were all long past sixty, still affected me in a very positive manner, and made my life richer, something for which I'm extremely thankful.

I find I'm humming "Take the A Train" in my head, though silently - out of respect for Mr. Marceau. In fact, in another part of my brain, I'm pretending I'm throwing a flower on his grave, blowing him a kiss goodbye, then frowning a little and tilting my head to the side.

Be good to everyone.

Here's a few fun Youtube links:

youtube.com/watch?v=BcV19rylSZc

youtube.com/watch?v=AOHqWk_wLNM

youtube.com/watch?v=HNqDdsgit0E

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