plebo.org

The story of how I was rescued from Hurricane Katrina is an amazing one and will, hopefully, one day end a book I plan to write of my life and times in the legendary City that Care Forgot.

But my poor wife has had enough.  Her life has been a mess since she was 15 and as her husband I want it all to stop.  I guess this is a plea to the man above - a kind of open dialogue.  I am totally ready for your answer but, dude, it’s getting old. 

Give her a break.  Please ease up on the constant pain she has found herself in.  It is heartbreaking to hear those moans 80% of the night.  I hate having to sleep separately after 8 years of not spending more than two nights apart.  She doesn’t need to bleed from everywhere you shouldn’t bleed from.  She doesn’t deserver to have to ask for help to put a shirt on.

It’s hard on people like us.  Most jazz musicians do not have health insurance.  I am blessed with a great friend and boss in Carl who has helped up deal with Kristen’s medical bills. 

Tomorrow Ann Foley gets married. Ann is like a sister to me.  We met at O’Doodle’s in our positions as Fran O’Donnell’s right and left hand go-to people.  We became fast friends and her Jeff is a great guy.  Kristen fell for Ann too and we both feel so much for her.  Kristen has been looking forward to Ann’s wedding for a year now and she can’t go.  I will have to go in her place and, quite honestly, it will feel weird. 

I miss my wife and I miss my best friend.  Please give her a break.  She has been in pain far too long and we are all more than willing to do anything to help her.

The past few weeks/months/years have brought such unrest and unease.  Let’s face it: we lost all we knew.  I lost a career that was actually something. She lost posesstions relating to her father, who passed away a decade ago.  We all lost a home.

Relocating to Chestnut Hill was hard.  It was hard having to regress back to working a 9-5pm job.  There is an episode of The Office when Michael Scott has to take a second job as a telemarketer.  He is trying to explain to a telemarketing co-worker that he is the boss the rest of the time.  The co-worker, obviously had moved to the USA from India, pointed out that back home he was a neuro-surgeon.  Michael Scott then concludes that “back home” he would have been the boss of the hospital or something of the like. 

Today brought something different.  Something that lights that small fire within your heart.  The kind of thing that make’s Groucho raise his eyebrows. 

I was at Drake’s.  Carl and I were closing together.  I was emailing a catering client and got side-tracked by a customer.  Carl was finishing the e-mail I had started as I, metaphorically, fed the till.  A gentleman came into the shop.  He was wearing a beaten up (not “tattered” but definately “worn”) baseball cap that said “GOOFY” across the front and “Walt Disney” across the back.  He asked a few questions, I thought nothing of him, as he puttered around.  He inquired about the salmon that was uncooked in the kitchen.  After, incorrectly, saying it was “Pineapple Teriyaki” he rejoiced after my correction that it would eventually be “Maple Pecan” salmon.  He would be back in the half hour it would take for the salmon to be ready.

Upon returning our friend put together a few meals.  One for him and his son, one for his wife and mother-in-law.  Complete gourmet dinners from Drake’s Gourmet Foods: entrees, veggies, starch and a dessert (have you tried the Lemon Bars????). 

I went to ring him up.   He pulls out a credit card (thank God he pulls a credit card… otherwise this story would not exist).

I notice the A Broadbent on the credit card receipt.  The name jingled bells.  My brain pulled up the Bill Evans bio “How My Heart Sings” ( a great book).  I also thought of liner notes of a million albums I love..   Dianne Shuur, Charlie Haden et al…. 

“Excuse me, are you related to the pianist Alan Broadbent?”

“I am the jazz pianist Alan Broadbent.”

“NO WAY!” I exclaim.

After working a few things out I discover that Mr. Broadbent is in town for his mother-in-law and a concert.  Meeting him today has relit a light inside of me.  It can be related to my pre-teen discovery of Elton John and my late-teen discovery of Keith Jarrett.  All three events have reinvigorated my desire to play. 

Alan Broadbent is one of the most easily approachable humans I have ever met.  He is humble while still comanding his own genious.  I gave him one of my cards and maybe he will decide to email me. 

Wow.

The evening unfolded with Kristen and I discussing money issues.  We were going to try and go out and meet up with my boss, and friend, Carl and his wife after they went out to dinner.  After we realized we were broke it was decided that going out was not in the near future.  Then Pres. Bush came on every channel we have (we are on one of those fancy antennas) to discuss the economic crisis.  (This post is not anti-Bush or anything political so let’s not make it that.)  After the speech sends us on a deep depression Kristen takes the ball and decides it’s time to leave. 

A block from our apartment we see Carl on the street, waiting for Claire to join him outside.  We move on to the Tavern on the Hill for a cocktail.  Once there we are greeted with a half-full bar, most people we know.  The patrons trickle out over the next half hour and we are left, almost alone, with a strange man.  Kristen went outside and came back disturbed that this strange man came up to her and rubbed her shoulder and arm in a way that is somewhat inappropriate.  Ten minutes later, while Carl is outside on the phone, Claire scoots a stool closer to me (taking Carl’s seat) pretending to read a sign and whispers that the strange man came up and rubbed her back in a way that wasn’t kosher.

I speak to the owner who informs me that this character (lets refer to him as A-hole from now on) has been in there all evening buying drinks for females that don’t know him.  The group makes the decision that A-hole is ruining the evening and it’s time to move on.  We pay our tab, at which point I notice that A-hole is getting his tab as well.

Half a block away from the bar it is realized that Carl and Claire’s car should be moved.  Claire volenteers to do it alone.  She crosses the street and I see A-hole exit the bar.  Carl, Kristen and myself stop walking to watch and A-hole looks at us and looks at Claire (across the street from him at this point) and he goes to follow her.  We promptly cross the street where we are to keep an eye.   Kristen then runs towards Claire (now a block away) and yells for that she wants to ride with her.  She meets up with Claire and they go down the alley of closed stores toward the parking lot.  Once they get out of our sight A-hole breaks into running and chases after them. 

Without missing a beat both Carl and I kick it up and run after him, Carl yelling a prominent, “HEY!”.  At this point (and afterwards Carl thought the same thing) I realize that I will keep running towards this guy but have no clue what I will do when I get there.  I then turn to my right and realize that Carl still has a lit cigarette.  That’s all we need to get some answers.  I am still on the sidewalk and Carl has made a shortcut through Border’s parking lot.  I then witness the man leap (in full original Super Mario Bros.-style pose) over the four foot wall at the edge of the lot. 

Turning the corner we are greeted with the pleasent image of Claire and Kristen already in Claire’s car backing out of a space.  When Carl and I reach the parking lot A-hole is off to the side in the shadows, realizing that the “boys” had chased after the “girls”.  He stood in the shadows and didn’t even have the decency to pretend he was urinating.

Good news is that the douchebag paid with a credit card and we have his name.  We went down to Campbell’s and Roger hooked us up.  All in all the evening was cool for all the wrong reasons.  On a side note, while driving away A-hole came out of the shadows on a sidestreet and Kristen gave him the finger and he returned the gesture.