Hi Everybody!
I think he is a mystic. My friend. And mentor. Bill. He lives this life in a different way, as if his eyes can peer through the light dust that covers everything and see right into the heart, the truth of whatever it is. In his younger days Bill loved to hike in the rugged San Gabriel Mountains that loom large, just east of Los Angeles, and one morning he brought me along. There he is, scrambling to the top of a ridge, opening his arms wide, as if he is making the universal gesture for THANK YOU and bellows the words “Wonka Tonka. Big medicine.”
During that hike, I clearly remember him bending over and pointing to a tiny white flower hugging the ground, the one my big foot almost squashed to goo. Such an ordinary bloom. Who would notice? But Bill is exuberant and implores me to stoop down and look at it. REALLY LOOK AT IT. This is an “ah-ha” moment for me. I never looked at things that way. Or people. He came into my world when I was ready to see.
I’ve known Bill over half my life. My singing teacher introduced us and the guitar lessons commenced. Bill is one of those salty guys whose talent is just about genius but is content to stay under the popularity radar. And go to the racetrack instead. This is a man who plays music for the joy of playing music. I guess applause are okay, but not the point. He brushes aside compliments. Bill’s reward is “doing it.” He plays jazz and chord-melodies pour out of him. He learned on the job, doing thousands of gigs with small combos. Then he decided to teach. He tells me THAT is when he really learned the guitar. Why? Because he had to explain what he was doing and why. He had to connect the dots for his students. And himself.
Years ago, Bill and Pat, his sweetheart and wife, moved to Carson City, Nevada. I haven’t seen them for a long time but The Reno Ukulele Festival is just thirty miles up the road from their house. So after the festival, my husband Craig and I drive to Carson City and spend the day with them.
Bill turns 90 this year. He still plays guitar everyday and climbs up and down the stairs everyday and walks the dog everyday but the hiking days are over. He blows up party balloons to help his breathing and there are more trips to the emergency room. But here he is, sitting in his big chair, marveling with startling curiosity, at the aging process. “You have to wonder what will happen next,” he says without any trace of morbidity or regret. I take pictures and Craig videotapes our spontaneous jam as we play “On Green Dolphin Street” in the living room, starring their dog, Vali, Bill and me. I have posted the video on YouTube, including the outtake that comes at the end. Click this link to check it out.
Our friends, our teachers, the people we love. They are the treasures in our life. My arms are open wide…
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