The Name of Each Song Twice

Grading takes forever.  There are a lot of ways to cut corners and I won’t do it.  And doing it right takes lots and lots of time.  It’s a different time then banging out a proposal or responding to an email or getting ready for some client meetings.  Different muscles are required.  Different pacing, a different embrace of time that is sharply at odds with the quicker-than-thou world of business.

I’ve been at it all week.  At seven in the evening tonight, after pausing for one call and then another I’ve got all posted and completed.  Dexter Gordon has joined me for the final sprint.  I found myself listening and watching the gentle giant a lot these last few days.  There are numerous, rather intimate clips of him playing in Denmark and Belgium in the mid to late sixties available on Youtube.  At six foot five it is perhaps not surprising that he has a deep voice to go with his deep tenor sax tone.  He has a way of repeating the name of each song twice as he announces each and every song: “Society Red.  Society . . . Red”

The kids all have plans.  My wife and I are alone. The shape of things to come.  We are soon over at Galati, the only descent restaurant around here sipping on something from the Piedmont, considering how it is he makes this lasagna.  Up on the walls, I consider the cathedral façade of Duomo Di Milano and the Bridge of Sighs as one does when one is in an Italian restaurant anywhere in the world.

Back home I try to hop on some more work.  But it won’t be long now before I begin to nod.  Nothing much happens at this hour.  I’m caught off guard by a vocal.  Dexter introduces things: “Big Fat Butterfly.  Big . . . Fat . . . Butterfly.”  And now he’s signing.  What a beautiful convincing, if somewhat obviously rather high-as-a-kite, voice he had.  Why didn’t he sing more often?

Friday, 4/26/19