Monday, January 21, 2013

Chapter 31 - The Homecoming



 

IT WAS THE year of our bicentennial in America. The top movie of the year was Taxi-Driver and the number one song on Billboard's top 100 was Silly Love Songs by the yet to be knighted Sir James Paul McCartney, the one Beatle I never got to meet. Maybe someday? Back then meeting one's idols meant a lot more to me than it does now. I've never met Dylan and I am a bit hesitant about it knowing full well he could never live up to my expectations; it might be a letdown. Nevertheless, back then I felt like a descendant, even though a very distant one, from the long and winding tribe of the Grand Beatlessence. When I think about the interconnectedness of all things in the universe, I still do.

Now our direct link to that connection, the behemoth man-child, Mal, was gone. I would go over to Blair’s new apartment on Crescent Heights and Fountain to get away from the going's on at Oakhurst. It was a typical Blair place, with modern but simple decor furnished by the apartment complex company. It felt normal again to be jamming with him on clavinette, the one left over from the Bruce Golden years. Bruce was continuing to finance the band I assumed, but I decided after leaving the Courtney Manor apartments and the departure of Michael Kennedy, I was not taking another penny - so I never mentioned him, especially to Stephen. I felt like enough was enough and the band was generally defunct, although I knew Stephen would always keep a candle burning in the window of hope. Blair was beginning to realize it was time to move on as well, or maybe it was our time to continue the band without Stephen. Now I can see that things were just happening so quickly all the time; you just went with it. You may end up in some strange studio in the middle of the night when the red button is pressed. There was no time to stop the machine we were all caught up in. I felt like I needed a break from that machine after staying for two or three weeks on Blair’s couch in West Hollywood. It was time to go back to the sanctuary.

Not only had my father been diagnosed with breast cancer and had the tumor removed two years earlier, but now my mom had been diagnosed with the terrible disease too. I was fortunate to be back home and have the chance to be there for her - for them. I sat up at night in my old room and wondered. I worried about my mom. I wondered what was going to happen when Helter Skelter was released in April. I wondered what my old friend and band-mate Chas was up to in Europe, but mostly I wondered about my mom.


2 comments:

  1. My old girlfriend met Dylan in Vermont at Putney School in the late 70's. Dylan was her idol. His daughter went to Putney School there. My girlfriend was walking on a path there one day on her way to catch a ride and saw him and stared at him and tears streamed down her face and he paused and told her, "I know how you feel". I know what you mean about idols not living up to what you think they are in your mind. When I was in my teens I met my idol also in Vermont also, Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane. She was, however, what I thought she would be in my mind at that time. She was very beautiful but surprisingly very short which I thought to be odd as I had imagined her being quite tall. Some college kids that used to live with us in Vermont when I was a kid got to go to Woodstock and they got to see her sing there. I thought they were the luckiest people on earth. My parents didn't go but that must have been quite a concert. I remember them coming back and talking about it. They were all on acid and reaked of patouli oil. My mom told me they were on acid, how funny.

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  2. Thanks for your comment Scott. Yes, it is true about our heroes, they should remain that by keeping them on the pedestal where they belong.

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