Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Celebrating 60 and Jeff VK

  SATURDAY WAS ONE of the best days of my life. And one of the longest.

I turned 60. My sister Charys was here from Colorado and my cousin Roland and wife Amy drove down from Michigan. We had a glorious jam session in my garage Saturday night with great musician friends and about 30 people. It reminded me of the fun Saturdays before Thanksgiving at Second String Music, when we'd have a party and toast our friend Pat Cornwell.

Early Saturday morning, former Cheeseburger bass player Jeff Vankanegan passed away. We jammed with Jeff in July for a one-off gig, and he was mentally still sharp and could still play. But physically he was struggling with a rare neurological disorder, and he ended up not playing the show. 

He went fast after that. 

Jeff at Cheeseburger show last year.
Kirk Gribbler and I went to see him in Good Samaritan Home a week ago Sunday. We played a few songs for him and Mary in his small room. Jeff was confined to a wheelchair and couldn't express his thoughts, but he clearly knew where he was and what we were doing. Mary grabbed his hand and "danced" with Jeff. He gave us big "WOO HOOS" after every song. As we left, he tried to tell us something, and I think it was to come back and do it again.

But he turned two days later. By Wednesday he was at Blessing Hospital. I saw him Friday morning, and he was resting peacefully, Mary holding his hand while sleeping in a chair next to the bed. 

At 4:20 a.m. Saturday, Jeff left us.

Saturday night in the Calftown garage, we toasted Pat Cornwell, Frank Haxel and Steve Pezzella. Then Kirk and I talked for a minute about Jeff. There were tears and laughter and even the people who didn't know Jeff were moved. Kirk had a framed photo of Jeff playing his bass at a show and proudly showed it to everybody.

Then we started playing and it was ... magic. I'm not mentioning names of everybody who participated because I'll forget somebody, but man did it cook. And I will say having Allison Hutson, Monica Scholz and Alicia McCarl all singing like the beautiful songbirds they are was ... special.

Kirk invited Jeff's son, Mike, to hang out with us. Mike didn't know a soul in the room. It didn't matter. We stopped the jam and had another toast to Jeff. "I can feel the love for my dad," Mike said.

Sunday, I took my sister Charys to Bingo at Quincy Brewing Company. We had the best time, and did absolutely nothing the rest of the day. 

At work yesterday, people asked me how it went. "Talk to me Wednesday. Maybe I'll be recovered by then," I said.

I've been talking about future plans, maybe moving back to Michigan in a few years to be closer to the big hole in the ground full of water. 

But after Charys, Roland and Amy experienced the jam session and saw all those people and felt all that love, they had a different opinion.

"You aren't leaving Quincy," they said. 

They might be right.



Friday, November 15, 2024

The day always breaks, sleep or no sleep

 


FOUR YEARS AGO I got Covid for the first time. It was awful. I have blocked most of it out.

The other day I saw a Facebook memory of the sun rising in Quincy. It was taken four years ago, the day after I got Covid, from the roof of our Second String Music building at Fifth and Maine. I must have climbed the stairs and found solace in the sunrise - I wasn't sleeping and I was ticked off in general about Covid and the world.

Sleeping well has always been an issue. Not falling asleep, but staying asleep. So I get it as much as I can when I can.

Three examples about going to sleep come to mind. A few weeks ago, the World Series was on. It was the fifth game. The Dodgers were about to win. It was about the eighth inning. But I was ready for bed. And I couldn't have cared less. In younger years I would have stayed up just to see what happened. Not this time.

ZZZZZZZZ.

Then it was election night. I attempted to stomach TV coverage but gave up after 10 minutes. The results wouldn't change if I stayed up or went to bed - and going to bed was way more important. It's going to be a long four years, but you know what? I'll still go to bed and try to get sleep. We'll get through it, one way or the other.

Then, finally, the most crushing and crucial sleep story - last Sunday night, the Detroit Lions played the Houston, whatevers. Oilers? Texans? I watched the first half at a friend's house and it didn't look good for the Lions. So I went home, watched the third quarter .... and fell asleep on the couch.

When I woke up the game was over. I was exhausted from a rock and roll weekend, so I simply got up, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

The next morning, I couldn't believe it. These are not the same old Lions. They kicked two long field goals in the last five minutes and won. 

Coco, my cat, is a huge Lions fan. In fact, Coco thinks she's a Lion. She wasn't happy I fell asleep and missed the end of the game. "You call yourself a Lions fan?" she said, giving me an angry glare.

I asked her why she didn't wake me up. "Because I was sleeping," she said. "But that's what cats do. You have NO excuse."

True. But I refuse to feel guilty about it. 

Next week, I turn 60. This is scaring the living crap out of me. What? SIXTY? And the thing is ... I'm wondering how I'm going to stay awake for the festivities, whatever they end up being.

Actually, I'm going to make an effort to say up that night. And maybe the night before. But definitely not the night after.

I'll still be 60 the next day, sleep or no sleep.