A rare nighttime edition of Wise Madness. This is tough as I’m listening to Tracy Grammer and Jim Henry do a Dave Carter tribute. If you want to call Dave the greatest songwriter of his generation I’ll agree. If you want to call him the greatest song writer ever I won’t argue. Everyone thinks of the words, but Dave’s melodies bring you into contact with the worlds beyond the world. I always loved Dave then he died 18 years ago tomorrow, on my birthday, a week before Falcon Ridge. That sealed my bond with him. I know that’s nonsense. Dave was a mystic, I’m not. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a kindred spirit. He’s in my karass. That’s not just a way of telling you tomorrow is my birthday. I always think of Dave on my birthday and so does Tracy. She doesn’t think of it as my birthday. My mother died on Carey’s birthday, so I’ll always think of her then. I spent the birthday that Dave died with Carey. Everything comes together. This connects life, death, music, and friendship. I’m not a mystic so that’s my way of saying it leads my mind to connect these things.
Today was pre-birthday indulgence day. I got phone calls from Ellen and Katrina. I went shopping and got a few special treats; shaved beef even though it wasn’t on sale, and chocolate Moose Tracks ice cream. I got the store brand because the only ice cream on sale was vanilla. I indulge, but frugally. I got the shaved beef so I could make Philly cheesesteak for the first time in ages. The supermarket rarely carries it. I made it for dinner using my special bonus ingredient, diced garlic which I sauté with the steak. There are very few things that aren’t better with garlic. I didn’t have any Cheez-Whiz in the house, so I made it with shredded Mexican cheese. It worked. Add a little A1 sauce and you have an amazing dish. Guess what I’m making for my birthday. Come on guess. That’s right, poutine. Maybe I’ll make pancakes for breakfast. We’ll see how tomorrow morning goes.
Tonight, I watched David’s (not Carter) improv class do a show on Zoom; that was fun. David had the best bit of the night. The teacher asked for a word to start off the first improv. Two people said the same word, “dinosaur.” I was the second one. Clearly that’s the best thing to improv about. Dinosaurs are like garlic; they make everything better. One player was a bone specialist, another played a teeth specialist, which avoided fighting over the dinosaur. Then David comes in as another bone expert, but not just any expert, Lassie, the dog. He said that Lassie was his last name, that’s why a boy dog is called that. As a dog he presented himself as an expert on bones. I was laughing out loud. Unfortunately, the audience had their camera’s off so I couldn’t see Carolann or Katherine who were also watching. Have I mentioned that I love my friends?
I’m celebrating my birthday by having a Zoom party. I’ll get to see the faces of many of my friends from around the world. It won’t just be my usual local group. Perhaps a 63-year-old shouldn’t make a big deal of his birthday, but I do. It’s how my mind works. I like having days set aside to think of things. Every year on July 4th, I read the Declaration of Independence. On Martin Luther King Day I read and watch something by him. On Pesach I go to my Seder. On Thanksgiving I visit Emily and her family. While the fact that the sun is in the same position in the sky as it was when an event happened has no inherent special significance; that doesn’t stop us from giving it significance. It keeps the memories from decaying. I care about your birthday too.
Next time I write I’ll be 63. That has no significance, even to me. I have to figure out how old I am from the year I was born. That never changes. Is there anything special about 63 as a number? Not particularly. Next year’s a good one. I’ll be 26, 40 in hexadecimal. Life begins at 4016.
Wise Madness 