I like to sing but I'm not a musician. Yes, I picked up the ukulele a few years ago and I'm really enjoying it but there's nothing natural that's happening on that instrument. My goal, from the start, was to accompany myself in my little den here at The Red House. I missed singing so the uke has helped me fill that void.
This time of year has me really reflecting. Many experiences and people have been running through my mind like crazy little rabbits lately.
One category that's at the head of the memory train is: Musician friends that are no longer here. I had the pleasure of standing on the same stage as the men I'm going to mention.
Fred Gibson: I first met Fred when he was in elementary school and hung out at the playground I was working at for my summer job. I pumped him daily for info on his older brother. I had a big crush going on back then and needed some insight.
After that summer I didn't see much of Fred until my Cabaret days. He was like magic on the stage. He tore it up. He owned it. There were times I considered trying to talk him into running away with me.
His life ended abruptly and way too soon. He left a big hole in everyone's heart.
Bobby VanStee: I met Bobby (a lot of people called him Gus) many years ago through a mutual friend. That friend (Mary Spreitzer) and I were rehearsing a song (Desperado) at her house. She sang it and I interpreted it in American Sign Language.
There sat Bobby on Mary's couch with his dog, Emmy Lou, with tears running down his face.
Bobby didn't read music. He sat down at his keyboard and stuff just happened. His ear was finely tuned.
I was lucky enough to have some meaningful phone (Facetime) chats with Bobby toward the end of his life. His death still caught me off guard. I sure miss that big man.
Mitch Wooster: "Rooster," the one-man band. I remember going into Mitch's record store in downtown Allegan looking for, what I thought, was an obscure musician's Blues music: Delbert McClinton. Mitch knew exactly who I was talking about and ordered some tapes for me right away.
I saw/heard Mitch play many, many times but I didn't appreciate what an outstanding musician he really was until years later. It was like I was seeing him for the first time and he blew me away.
He helped me out on some recording problems I was having and we also had several private Facebook chats about politics and life. We shared "the same page."
Last time we talked in person was a quick chat at the Eagles. If I'd known he was going to leave this life soon after that day, I would have stayed longer.
Noah Smith: Noah was a force to be reckoned with. He paid me the highest compliment when I sang my first solo ("Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," the Big Maybelle version) at Cabaret many years ago. "Who were you channeling for that?"
Noah's body took a real blow by some weirdo disease and movement was limited. The last time I saw him perform he couldn't lift a glass but he could still sing. The man was determined.
When I started playing the ukulele, Noah gave me some great advice during one of our phone calls. Some chords were difficult for my old fingers and he said "oh, hell, you don't have to play all the chords. Just skip the one that's hard and pick up on the other side."
Thanks, buddy.
These men all left wonderful memories behind. Great stories that will hopefully be shared for years to come.
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