When you live as long as I have, which is now over 71 years, you sometimes come to a point that causes you to assess who you are, where you have come from, and what you have done with your life. I have travelled a lot, lived in 7 different states, had a lot of different jobs, and met a large number of people along my peripatetic path. As a songwriter and author, I tend to see things in terms of metaphors, and an assessment of my life is no exception. I often think of my life as a painting that began as a pencil sketch with little color or detail. But every place I went, and every person I met, added something to my painting. A scene here, a little color there, some shading or texture over there. All of the people who have passed through my life have contributed to the portrait that seems to be just now taking full shape.
This past weekend, I had the good fortune to experience an extraordinary afternoon. Ostensibly, the occasion was my book launch party in Chicago, but it wound up being much more than that. By the late stages of life, most people have developed various groups of friends and acquaintances as they meandered through life. You probably don’t see most of those people on a regular basis—especially if you have moved away from your childhood home. You might run into some of those people at class reunions, weddings, and, increasingly, funerals or memorials, but not often.
What happened last Saturday for me was that I had the unique opportunity to see a wide variety of friends I had met in sub-groups through the years and most of whom I have not seen in 4 or 5 decades. In the days since this event, I have been running through the flashbacks of that remarkable day, replaying conversations, and smiling at the memories. It was like seeing slices of my life unfold before my eyes.
My brother Dan and his wife Esther generously hosted the event in a bar just outside Chicago. Fittingly, for this group, it was held in the “Saloon Room” of the Bourbon Street Bar—a room dominated by a long bar of polished oak and gleaming brass fixtures. Not everyone in the area was able to make it due to health issues or previous commitments, and many sent their wishes for a successful day. I sang a couple of songs—one old and one brand new—and talked a bit, but what I’ll remember most is the conversations I had with people. I won’t try to give the names of those people for fear I’ll forget someone or leave a name out.
I spent my first 14 years or so living in the southwest corner of Chicago, a neighborhood called Mt. Greenwood. Those years were well represented by my aunt, uncle, and most of my brothers. Those people knew me from the beginning, from the days when I was a sports-crazed little kid. That immediate family grew into a large extended family over the years, and many cousins, nieces, nephews, and spouses were also there on Saturday. Moreover, a childhood friend of my departed sister was there with her husband.
After 8th grade, we moved to the nearby suburb of Burbank (South Stickney at the time). I was astonished to see people from those years at the book launch. Friends from my graduation class who knew me when I was voted “Most Reserved” by my senior class of over 600 kids; others who were teammates and fellow runners; some people who attended Reavis long after me but wanted to read a book set in their hometown and high school. My aunt even brought a friend who happened to have started teaching at Reavis when I was a sophomore. These were all people I have not seen in at least 53 years, so I was especially surprised to see them and enjoyed hearing stories about how I was perceived back then. (“Quiet, nice, and funny” seemed to be the consensus). I even relayed some juicy gossip about one of my former coaches who died in prison out West while serving time for rape.
After high school, I attended college and broadened my social circle to include friends of my brother. There were several people at the event from those years. One couple reminded me that I had performed a couple of songs at their wedding in the late ‘70s. Another couple from Western Illinois University days included an old friend who was a rival from track and cross country during high school, but who became a friend and teammate in college.
After college, I lived a year in Texas, another in Colorado before drifting back to Chicago. There I worked in a factory and made the first tentative steps toward a career in folk music. Friends from Sciaky Brothers Manufacturing often overlapped with those who came to see me when I played in Chicago-area clubs. The guys from the factory, including Dan, had great stories about the shenanigans we would get into while working with the skeleton crew of the night-shift. Often, we would complete our work in an hour or two, then look for ways to entertain ourselves for the rest of the night. We apparently had vivid imaginations and creative ideas in those days.
From that same time period, there was a sizable group who had been regular audience members when I performed onstage. Some of them also hung out when I was tending bar at a club called Someplace Else in Park Forest. One guy reminded me of the time we attended a “Chicago Doubleheader,” going to the Cubs game in the afternoon and taking the El to the White Sox game in the evening. Another couple talked about a “Bad Movie Night” I hosted in my house near the club. Still another had a picture of the cover of the live record album we recorded in 1984. The names of everyone who was in the audience during the three nights we recorded the album were listed on the cover, and many of the people there Saturday were in that list.
When I retired from music in 1986, I started grad school and then my teaching career that lasted until 2019. I was startled to see two of my former students show up, one of whom drove two hours from Champaign, Illinois to be there. I’m pretty certain they were exposed to stories about me that they never imagined while sitting in my classroom years ago. They definitely heard songs that I could never have played at sedate Harpeth Hall. Still, they seemed unscarred by the experience and had a great time.
Others in attendance included friends and neighbors of my brother, a couple of former girlfriends, and a few people who probably wandered in by mistake. Another highlight of the weekend included a breakfast stop by Kathleen and me at Les Brothers Restaurant on the fringes of Burbank. For those familiar with my music, that was the place immortalized as the scene of the crime in my song “Dine and Dash.”
In short, it was an interesting day, and I had great fun reconnecting with so many people from the various phases of my life. Thanks so much to everyone who was there. It was exciting for me to see so many of the people who contributed to my “painting” over the years and made me who I am.
Next up:
Saturday, September 27, Local Author Fair, Ellsworth, Wisconsin, 12:00 to 3:00.
Thursday, October 23, Nashville, Tennessee, Richards Room at Harpeth Hall School, 3801 Hobbs Road, from 5:30 to 7:00. If you plan on attending the Nashville event, please wait until that evening to buy your book. They are a little cheaper in person, and I can sell my supply of the books I had to purchase in advance.
For those who cannot make those events, the book (The Forest Primeval, by Jack Henderson) is now available in both paperback and hard-cover on Amazon and the Written Dreams website.
