Get On With It

Had some female blues on yesterday morning.  Ida Cox came on, singing a riff my generagion associated with Jack Bruce and Cream:  “If you loose your money, great God, don’t loose your mind.”  Some Bessie Tucker came on and I just stopped and shook my head as I chopped up carrots for my smoothie.  She is so slow and chilling with her diction.  When she talks about the “pen-ah-ten-chray” it strikes one that she had some familiarity with the Texas facilities.  Ma Rainey came on and it took me a minute to place the voice.  I went over and peeked.  I was right.  Then Bessie started in.  She always wins. 

I suppose we could play John Philips Souza in the morning.  I could play bop, or psychadelia, Korean Pop, or nothing at all.  But some old twenties blues, slow and strong, seems to anchor things.  Whatever it is your fretting about can’t be all that bad.  Let’s go.  Get on with it. 

I figured I’d write this on the cab ride into the city.  I didn’t.  I spent the whole time on a phone.  No great loss.  How many “I’m stuck in traffic” postings does one really need?   I’d lined up three meetings in a row, to be followed by a phone call.  Twenty minutes late for the first one, a flurry of excuses and shuffling ensued with every subsequent start date.   The penultimate meeting began around the time that the ultimate meeting was scheduled for and I explained to a colleague that perhaps he might just take it on my behalf. 

An impromptu visit to a friend’s home on the way back home.  No one lives very near to anyone else in this town, so visits happens rarely.  A son I knew when he was ten, and when he played war games with his little brother, is man now, at twenty-two.  He considering twenty-two year old challenges; what to do and where to do it.  An apartment full of memories.  A spouse I haven’t seen for years.  I really ought to head home though.  “Thank you for everything.”  Tomorrow I must travel and I want to see my kids, before they head to bed.