I Was Never There

 

Deer aren’t nocturnal.  I believe that to be true.  I presume they just lay down out there, somewhere in the woods, on the snowy ground if they must, huddled together if they’re smart, staying as close as they can.  But deer also experience hunger, and there ain’t much to eat out there.  I came out to this room around 1:00AM to do a call I noticed that there was a single, deer down there, raiding the fridge, as it were.  He didn’t notice the light, but as soon as I moved he must have caught the shadow and darted off. The snow around the yard is generally pristine just now, but down below my window where the seed is thrown, all has been trampled, and all is deer tracks. 

My dad and I spoke yesterday.  He wasn’t inclined to meet for a walk today as we usually do.  I didn’t really have any good ideas other than walking around clumsily in the snow behind my house.  But then he suggested we meet on the other rail trail they have, the Empire Trail that extends from New Paltz over to the Mid-Hudson Bridge.  “It’s completely plowed”, he mentioned. Fine with me.  We’ll meet there in about four hours. 

My call with Sydney and Perth, and KL and Beijing, and Seoul, it went fine.  I like all of the people on that bridge and we’ve done this for a while now.  When it was over, I was up.  Tired but up.  I sat and meditated for thirty minutes and tellingly I did not fall asleep.  I could hear my wife wind up her late night movie viewing and I assumed she’d pop in here, even though it was dark.  She went instead back to our room and began talking to what she presumed to be me.  Then she walked out again.  Returned.  And then this time came out in a huff.  “Why did you leave the bedroom?”  “I was never there.  I’ve been here the whole time.”  This took a moment for her to process.  “I thought you were in the bed.”  “Yes.  I know.  I could hear you in the distance.”  “Come to bed.”  She demanded. But I told her I wanted to finish this meditation. 

 

I’ve a collection of Sonny Rollins on which are many things I’ve known through the years.  It’s the second time I’ve queued it up in the last twenty-four hours, as there are still many things I don’t immediately recognize.  “Swingin’ for Busmsy” from the 1956 album “Moving Out” has Sonny joined by Kenny Dorham on trumpet, Elmo Hope on keys, Percy Heath on bass and the inimitable Art Blakey on drums, who creates these remarkable pauses at the end of one solo, that leads to a crash, as the next one begins.  Blakey’s Jazz Messengers was formed the previous year, but this is all credited as a Sonny Rollins date.  Ahh, I’m glad the weekend is here again.  Yes indeed. 

 

 

 

Friday, 02/05/21