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Loving life is grand, but when your
love is shared with music, then life is something more then
ordinary living; life then, suddenly becomes more of your own
innovative creations. I can't sing, carry a tune or play
music. I'm just a spectator. Truthfully, I'm quite deaf,
but my music can be felt. Once in my lifetime, I steered
my flopping, supine body right smack in the middle of the
1980's Kansas City Jazz
Scene. Little did I know how deeply involved in the
individuals hearts, who played the music I adored, I
would become. Many of them touched my soul with their talents
or sat with me during a jam session, sometimes lasting into
the wee hours of the morning. Their notes always allowed
me enough endurance to fly home to bed.
My
journeys with the musicians, like most encounters in my
life, were brief. They began on a steamy summer night in a
small outdoor café on the Plaza. The music of the Gary
Schroeder Trio interrupted my walk with one of my former
nurses. We were out for a stroll, by a nearby fountain when
suddenly the sound of xylophones magically drew me to the
café. Three young musicians, Gary, on vibes, Mike Magi on
drums, Greg Eicher on bass violin. They smiled, as I entered
on my back, looking smitten in my mini, complete with bright
red tennis pants. My smiles were returned as I motored
past them, floating slightly to their sounds. Gary's music
resembled that of Gary Burton, some refer to it as elevator
jazz, but Gary had his own unique style of Jazz Contemporary.
Given their talented, starving artist; youthful, yet
intellectual appearance, they simply sent chills down my
spine. This was a hypnotic affect which could not be
interrupted until their break. The three came to introduce
themselves to me and without hesitation or concern for my
health situation, I offered to become their new
manager; without charge, of course, I just wanted the
experience.
For the next year or two, I
wrote articles, arranged gigs, designed
promotional posters, wrote ads for work, mostly from my
bed or between my own therapy sessions. My physical pain was
great, but the music became my greatest healer, my own
personal hope. When the Trio broke up I had fulfilled a dream,
helped promote local Jazz in
Kansas City for the yearly festivals, written lyrics to my
own song and "danced" my nights and a few afternoons away with
over 25 local musician of Jazz and Blues. Their music plays on
now, here, there, everywhere, bigger and better then ever, I'm
sure. They play my sounds of love and joy, they never really
say good bye. Their still playing with my spirit, my love for
the beat is with them always. Those were my fondest hours,
they are my best memories today.
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