Right up there with Perle

(I wrote this January 18, 2016, on Amtrak train 194, heading north to New Haven).

I just ate a fantastic lunch; more on that in a minute.

Yesterday was Don’s memorial service/celebration of life. I became incredibly nervous as we drove to the hall, but once there and chatting with folks -- some old friends, some new friends -- I relaxed. I was one of perhaps 8-9 people to speak and I managed to get through my remarks without losing it. There were perhaps a hundred people there and it was clear that Don was much loved and that he had touched -- no, influenced – many of our lives. He will be terribly missed.

Perle Mesta, the "hostess with the mostest" on a 1949 Time magazine cover

My brother and I traveled together and stayed at Mike and Becky Dale’s house -- Don’s nephew and niece. It could not have been a more pleasant stay. Becky made lasagna Saturday night, with salad and, more importantly, her legendary yeast rolls. Don had talked about them many times and I had flat-out asked her to make them. (Just ask Ted Cruz how pushy we New Yorkers can be). They did NOT disappoint; I think I ate four.

Sunday morning we had a wonderful breakfast spread with granola, fresh fruit, bacon and eggs and all the trimmings and then just a few hours later Becky put out lunch for twelve: homemade Brunswick Stew with country ham on either biscuits or more yeast rolls. It was wonderful.

This morning there was another breakfast spread and then here on the train I opened the bag Becky had given me to find more ham biscuits, fresh fruit, dried fruit and nuts and her marvelous molasses cookies. From a couple hundred miles away she was still taking care of us.

I said in my remarks at the service that in the last years of his life, family had become the most important thing to Don. Having just visited the best hostess I’ve ever met, I certainly understand that. Thank you Becky and Mike for making a very hard trip very enjoyable as well.

Another shock to the system

It was on the train home from Don's memorial service that I got the news: Glenn Frey had died. My puny voice can add nothing original to the tributes from his millions of fans around the world. We are today sad, we are today playing our beloved Eagles nonstop, we are today facing the awful truth of life: it is far too short for far too many of us.

RIP, Glenn, and thank you for the greatest line in all of rock and roll:

Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona,
Such a fine sight to see.
It's a girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford,
Slowing down to take a look at me.

eagles.com

Music heals

Ever since I can remember I have used music to further the healing process. Sometimes I would play up-tempo, happy music to distance myself from the pain; more often I would play stuff that I knew would make me cry – purgatory relief you might say.

This last week or so I’ve done both.

If there’s one song that “says” Don Dale, it’s Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Mel Carter. (Click on the title to give it a listen). It was a favorite of his since its release in 1965. If memory serves it was “our song” for him and Lee, a girl he dated back then. Another Don song was Nobody Knows What’s Going On In My Mind But Me – a mouthful of a title for an earful of wonderfully produced pop – turn it up loud for the instrumental break with its pounding drums and cascading harp.

On Wednesday music of two entirely different natures soothed me. I spent the afternoon at the dress rehearsal for Le Train Bleu, Ransom’s ensemble, which gave a concert at National Sawdust in Brooklyn. It was a revelation.

On the program were John Luther Adams’ The Light Within; Huang Ruo’s Confluence (featuring Rebecca Allan, who painted a watercolor in real time, projected above the musicians); Reena Esmail’s Perhaps, accompanied by the world premiere of a new film by Heather McCalden; and Jacob TV’s (Jacob ter Veldhuis) Grab It!, for electric guitar and soundtrack, and Jesus is Coming, for saxophone quartet and soundtrack.

The New York Times reviewed the concert; click here. What an intense musical experience -- NOT your grandmother’s classical music!

For THAT I went to Lincoln Center at 8pm to hear the Cincinnati Symphony perform the Tchaikovsky war horse, the Piano Concerto #1 as well as his huge fifth symphony. It was a brilliant concert conducted by their Music Director Louis Langrée (also MD for the Mostly Mozart Festival). They even played Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker to put a fitting end to the Christmas season – it was Three Kings’ Day after all (January 6).

On the train home I listened to several recorded interviews I have of Don. I miss my friend still, but music doth, in fact, soothe. Thank you Ransom and Mr. Langrée for taking me out of myself.

(And I would be remiss if I did not mention that between the rehearsal and the concert I had dinner with my dear friends Ann and Jon -- friendship also dispels pain; thank you both).

Learning to live my life without you, old friend

Don and I in Vienna, 2002

I’ve had almost a week now to get used to the passing of my friend Don. In fact, I’m at peace with the idea that he has died. I’ve not at all accepted the fact that I will never again email him or read a new blog post of his or talk to him on the phone or see him. Communicating with Don was an integral – and almost daily – part of my life. It was so much at the core of our friendship that on the rare occasion that we went two days without conversing one of us would invariably write a message with the subject “You ok?”

I’ve therefore spent hours of every day since he died in his company, sort of. I’ve read 299 of his posts on Cogito, his blog. Still to go: 77 more.

I’ve of course read them all before and many of them bear witness to that with a comment from me. But at my age I forget things easily, so it’s been great fun to read them all again. Don spent most of his life making a living with words, so, even if you didn’t know him, a walk through his blog is a rewarding ramble. You can find him at http://nodelad.blogspot.com/

Don and I took a Rhine River cruise in 1995. The highlight of the trip was an overnight stop in Köln (Cologne). The cathedral is spectacular and the first glimpse of it, from the riverboat, made my heart race. Later that evening we toured the outside (the cathedral was closed for the night) as a misty rain fell, sprinkling the fog with slivers of light. In a blog post from August of 2010, Don had this to say about walking through Köln that evening:

I was thinking about our planned visit to the cathedral the next day, and then we looked up and saw it: the magnificent Cathedral of Saint Peter and the Blessed Virgin disappearing into the fog above, a timeless apparition that transported us -- just for a moment -- back to the Middle Ages. We were stopped in our tracks, stunned by what we beheld. Speechless. Awestruck. Never before nor since have I seen something both so moving and so beautiful.

I echo that sentiment and reading his words made that memory as fresh as it could possibly be. I will be always grateful for his words and know I will revisit them often.

As I sit in my home office and look at the almost 70 year-old light-up Santa face that I inherited from my parents, I think that I can hardly remember a time when this holiday gem, and Don Dale, were not part of my life. Don dispersed forever any guilt I have about displaying this tacky piece of plastic in a blog post from 2011:

Christmas is a time for memories, for recalling the past and for making new memories for the children in our families. Tacky is trumped by nostalgia.

I decided long ago that this is a good thing.

Tradition is to be accorded great respect.

Thanks, Don. As always.