Even though your farm was about 90 minutes from the town of which the rock festival was named, it created an event that is still revered and cherished almost 52 years later.
I’m writing this post from my brother’s house in Woodstock, where my niece Claire graciously let me have her room as my guest room for the past two nights. In some ways, this feels very “full circle”, as I remember thinking about many memories of hanging out in Woodstock the same way I did as a teenager 35 years ago.
Because of a couple of floating holidays I needed to use at work, I decided to drive up to Woodstock on Thursday. As I had not been here since 2018, I knew I’d get the chance to catch up with my family and a lot of great friends, but I knew I’d get to do something very near and dear to me….I got to hang out on the Woodstock Village Green, and listen to Todd Rundgren’s “Something/Anything?” album….this was a ritual I started back in 1991, after I’d graduated and moved back home from Ithaca, but was struggling to find a job (thank you, recession) and face the world as an adult. I could come here, put on my Walkman, and enjoy a few moments of inner peace. And when I was going through my separation and divorce 11 years ago, this was somewhere I felt I could come to put on my headphones and gather my thoughts.
Yesterday was a perfect afternoon to sit there and enjoy the sunshine (in the afternoon) and feel very thankful for the love I felt these last two days. I’ve spent quality time with my brother Lee, my sister-in-law Margaret and my nieces Rose and Claire, and I got to see very close friends like Sean Tarleton, Paul Rakov, Bobby Weiss and Maureen Swingle. I’ve reconnected with former work colleagues, and I even did my part to support the local clothing stores, trust me!
The original Woodstock was about love, peace and music. After the incredible turbulence of the year 2020, it’s nice to not only see these three things starting to reappear in our society, but I got to come up here to see and feel them in the place where I grew up. Listening to Todd Rundgren’s “Hello, It’s Me”, my favorite lyric in the song is “It’s important to me that you know you are free. ‘Cause I never want to make you change for me.” I’ve spent many years meditating on those words, and yesterday this brought me a tremendous feeling of peace, as I know have have the love of my family and friends.
This is what I call “The Woodstock Effect.” And it’s pretty groovy, man. ☮️💟🎶
There’s a big difference between the person on the left and the person on the right in the picture above….and it’s not just the hair.
The picture on the left is me in 1986. Insecure, unhappy, not knowing I was suffering from depression, and suppressing a traumatic experience that I didn’t realize was already consuming me. Behind a layer of arrogance and anger was a person who felt he was not good enough at anything – music, school or friendships.
I was living in other people’s shadows, both dead and alive….my father, my brother and Allen Roosa, a music student in my high school who died tragically in 1979 during his senior year. He then was considered the “gold standard” of all music students in our school district going forward, as a music award was created in his honor.
There are days when I can’t believe I didn’t truly try to take my own life during these years. I remember the night of my graduation in 1987 as the time I came closest to doing it. As I spent my last year of high school at a junior college, I had no desire to go to my high school graduation to feel judged one more time. As my peer received the Roosa award along with a slew of other awards I was given the equivalent of a “seventh place trophy” award that night, I would rather have not gotten any fucking awards that night, and that was a moment that pushed me over the edge, as my dad made me go to graduation because of how it would make him look if I didn’t. I heard one classmate crack a joke at my expense as awards were being presented. I felt no self-worth, and felt beyond numb. I just wanted to walk out, get in my car, drive to the Rhinecliff Bridge and just be DONE.
Instead, I just went to the movies by myself, where I felt I could just “vanish”. After years of being picked on and being looked at as not good enough, self-value was not part of my vocabulary. I now post this senior picture for fun – part of that was to create a new narrative for that picture compared to the negative one that had been in my head for years.
I’m thankful for my years of therapy, and I’m not the least bit ashamed or embarrassed to say that I suffer from depression, that I’m on medication for it, and that some days there are triggers that still can bring me down. After years of making mistakes and finally facing my demons, I’ve learned (I’m still learning) the importance of self-worth. Although I appreciate compliments about my musical ability, I still hear the voices of my critics (my dad, my high school chorus teacher) who loved to bring up my “deficiencies”. I don’t play piano – I’ve always felt like I’m not a good musician because of this, as this has been thrown in my face more times than I care to remember. (It’s also the reason why I now have no desire to learn).
Doing the photo shoots with Uptown Vocal Jazz Quartet was a lot of fun….I look at the picture on the right very differently than the one on the left, because the picture on the right represents a lot of hard work. That smile comes after a lot of years of darkness. At 51, I finally feel the confidence that I wish I had when I was younger. I’ve still had people try to knock me down – from my ex-wife to Miss Vitriolic 2019, who took every possible shot that she could – where I would have felt like a failure about what was said, I know know I can consider the source with those types of comments…and besides, why give that much power to a self-righteous douchebag, or an incredibly racist asshole? (Or a “Karen”, as the kids say these days.)
These pictures represent two very different people, even though they are one in the same. I’m glad I’m still here for the journey, and I can look back at my life with a lot less shame and guilt. Although there are still days where the struggle is real, I just try to be as positive as I can be each and every day.
One of the hardest doses of reality is when your childhood heroes are not who you always thought they’d be. After O.J. Simpson, I never thought I’d have such another major disappointment. This week felt like an all-time low, based on a “legal technicality.”
Like millions of Americans, I used to hold Bill Cosby in the highest regard. From watching him on The Electric Company as a small child, to growing up watching Fat Albert, to seeing every episode of The Cosby Show. He truly showed us he reality of an upper-class African-American family with the Huxtables, and you could not have found a better pitchman for advertising your product.
As shocked and appalled as I was when he was found guilty of rape, I found myself very angry not just at the court’s decision to overturn his conviction, but also outraged at his arrogance about being released from prison. They did not find another person who was truly responsible for these crimes….this was overturned because of a technicality.
The fact that he’s saying he’s innocent and wanting to tour again repulses me. Why would anyone give him another dime? And his spokesperson Andrew Wyatt? This guy takes being an asshole to a whole new level…saying that the overturned conviction is “a great day for women everywhere?” How dare he use this as an opportunity to do nothing but take a cheap shot at the accusers? I’m also very disappointed in Phylicia Rashad’s comment that “a wrong has been righted.” I get her loyalty from their years of working together, but this was not an overturned traffic ticket. These comments are beyond insensitive.
As much as I’m angered by all of this, I still feel heartbroken when reconciling the Bill Cosby of my childhood compared to the Bill Cosby of this week. I don’t watch The Cosby Show the way I used to, as I doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
It truly hurts to see a childhood idol become something far beyond what I ever thought they could become. As much as Bill Cosby has fallen from his status as “America’s Dad”, I wish he would just fade into oblivion, and not try to get back up.
I found out that one of my best friends from high school passed away this week. He wasn’t just a best friend – he was also the person with whom I played my very first “professional” gig 36 years ago.
Stacey Waterous and I became friends when we were in high school jazz band together. He played lead tenor sax and I played lead trombone. Although I was the epitome of a “band geek”, I started to hang out with Stacey, who brought me into the fold with some of the “cooler” musicians who had their own bands, like Jonathan Sanborn. This was the beginning of when I started to consider the idea of becoming a professional musician, and my friendship with Stacey helped to lay that foundation.
The following year, Stacey and I formed a band with our friends Sean Tarleton (our bassist, who was in our high school for his senior year), Ray Kim (keyboards), George Matthews (drums) and Eric Kirk (percussion). Our big event was the high school talent show in February 1985. We knew the other bands would be playing rock and heavy metal, but we were playing jazz fusion (Spyro Gyra and Weather Report). I had turned Stacey on to the music of Stanley Turrentine, and “Blue Hour” was one of his classic albums. We made our name “Black Hour” (a name my dad hated because of the racial implications), as we thought it sounded “goth” enough that we’d surprise the audience with incredibly different music…..and it worked. With Jonathan Sanborn sitting in on percussion, we played Spyro Gyra’s “Carnaval” and Weather Report’s classic tune “Birdland”. Stacey and I played lead instruments, and we nailed our solos. I still remember every moment of that performance, as it was the first time I played in a band in front of my peers.
The next month, we played our first professional “paid gig” (chicken wings and soda!) at Levon Helm’s restaurant in Saugerties, right outside of Woodstock. My mom drove me to the gig, and I remember how cool it felt to be on the stage for the very first time, playing to a very receptive and supportive audience. Here we were, these teenage kids playing music, not knowing that we’d be doing this for years to come.
Stacey had a shitty 1975(?) Dodge Duster….shitty is too kind a word for this car – it was baby blue, seriously rusted, and none of the dashboard lights worked. I’ll be damned if we didn’t love riding around in that car. We nicknamed it “The Loadster”, because we used to load our gear into the trunk, and also because that car was truly a load of crap! I have a lot of fond memories of listening to a lot of great music while riding around in that car!
The following year, both Stacey and I started playing electric bass, and we formed a new band called Palladium. We again played the high school talent show with a different lineup of musicians: Jeremy Baum (keyboards – he’s a brilliant jazz organist up in New York), Eric Kelsey (guitar), Eric Kirk on drums, and Stacey and I switched off on playing bass and lead horns. We opened with David Sanborn’s tune “Butterfat”….I remember being so excited/nervous before the curtain opened that both my hands were shaking while holding my bass. Stacey came out and once he played the intro, we were locked in. I switched to lead horn on the next tune, and we closed with a Jimmy Smith tune with Stacey playing tenor sax. I vividly remember Eric Kelsey’s rhythm guitar playing, as it was incredibly smooth…a month later, we performed at the Woodstock Homemade Jam concert (my brother Lee filled in for Jeremy that day), and we played right before legendary jazz drummer Jack DeJohnette and his group. I remember looking off to the side of the stage and seeing Jack bobbing his head along as we were playing Butterfat….that was AWESOME!
I didn’t see Stacey much after high school…I bumped into him a few times with Jonathan in NYC, and a time or two when I was back in Woodstock. The last time I saw him was right before Christmas a few years ago. I knew he was still playing sax, and all was well. I reconnected with him on social media, and was delighted to hear that he and Sean had played some gigs together.
I found out about his passing yesterday afternoon, and it stopped me in my tracks. I was on my way to meet someone about some upcoming musical opportunities, and I asked if we could reschedule. I started thinking about how much it would have meant to me to see him again…..he had a laugh like no other. There was always talk of us all getting back together to play some of our old tunes, and now that won’t come to fruition. I drove back home last night while listening to Butterfat over and over.
Rest In Peace, Stacey William Waterous….you’re already so incredibly missed, and for you, the band will play on.
This is a post that has been in my head for a few weeks. It’s in honor of my friend Debra Kepner, who passed away before the end of 2020. Her memorial service took place a couple of weeks ago, and although I was not able to attend, I wanted to write a tribute to her, as she was truly one of the most inspirational and spiritual friends that I’ve ever had.
I met Deb in 2001 when we worked together at The Vanguard Group. We were cube mates working together in Recordkeeping Services. From the first time I met her, I knew right away that we would be good friends, as our first conversation was about music and football. Things only got better from there.
Deb was a fun and energetic person, and definitely made work a fun place to be. She was my backup for my clients, and I was her client backup as well. I remember coming back from vacations, and my clients being so thankful to have both of us as their contacts. Deb never missed attending a Vanguard Band/Choir concert, and she was INCREDIBLY supportive of my music career. I remember that she used to tease me and say “I can hear your musical spirit dying here at Vanguard!” as a way of keeping me focused on my true passion for playing and singing music.
If it’s possible, Deb loved her Philadelphia Eagles almost as much as I love my New York Giants (who she lovingly called “The Midgets”)….she pulled a good prank on me which I’ll always remember. I had a Giants mini-helmet on my desk, and one day it ended up missing. I went home from work that night a little peeved (ok, a LOT peeved) that someone would take my helmet. The next morning I came to work and there was a ransom note saying “Either you sing ‘Fly, Eagles Fly, or the helmet gets it!” written in Deb’s handwriting. I wrote “I’ll just buy another helmet instead of singing such a horrible song!” with a smiley face on the back of her note, and put it back on her desk. Needless to say, we both had a really good laugh about that!
I was also very honored to do a very special favor for Deb, as it was for something very serious. When her husband Bill passed away in 2007, she asked me to sing at his memorial service. Although I had never been a huge fan of the original version of “Free Bird”, I had recently watched the movie Duets, where Arnold McCuller is the dubbed voice for Andre Braugher’s character doing a beautiful a capella version of the song. This was how I performed the song that day, and Deb told me that to her, it was the most beautiful my voice had ever sounded. It’s during moments like this when you truly realize the genuine friendships you have in your life, and I was so glad to bring some joy to a day of such sorrow.
There are so many wonderful times I spent with Deb – when Michal and I were splitting up, Deb let me stay in her guest room a few nights when I needed some space, and she was a tremendous listener as I told her what was on my mind during that whole ordeal. Deb introduced me to the band Vuja De, with whom I had the chance to play some gigs in PA. Deb was very spiritual, and always found the beauty in things that we sometimes take for granted. I don’t doubt for one second that her spirit is still here…I think about Deb when I listen to music (especially Entrain and Rusted Root), as our tastes in music were similar. I can still hear her laugh and see that smile. Debra – THANK YOU for being such a wonderful human being, and for having such an incredible impact on all of our lives.
Saturday cannot get here soon enough….it’s not because I’m having a bad week – for the first time since September of 2019, I’m doing a gig with the Cruise Control Band up in Hershey PA.
This is truly one of my favorite bands with whom I perform. Top-notch musicians, and great friends. It’s been really tough not seeing everyone in the band because of the pandemic, and as excited as I am to play music with everyone, I’m even more excited to just see them, and have a fun evening (and maybe even have a good bandwich!)…
I’ve been playing music professionally for 34 years….between the All-Night Band and the Cruise Control Band, I’ve been very blessed. There’s a natural rapport and chemistry that takes place when you work with the right people – it’s even stronger when you’re focused on playing music and finding that perfect sound and blend. I have missed this tremendously over the past 21 months, and I can hardly wait to do that again on Saturday night.
Only a few more days until Cruise Control will be smooth sailing again.
“Meaningful moments Are far and few between You gotta seize the meaning (If you see what I mean) Say what?” – Take 6
It’s been a couple of weeks since the last blog post….it’s not like life has not been busy – I just spent the last two weekends at Cypress Cove and Avalon – I’ve just been doing a lot of listening. Whether it’s music, conversation, or just interesting shows on television, I’ve enjoyed embracing my “inner introvert.”
I’ve seen tremendous acts of kindness and compassion from my friends, and I’ve also seen people be the lowest of the low. By listening and observing, it’s been a very enlightening period of silence.
Mister Rogers said it best – sometimes the most important part of the page is the space between the paragraphs, as it allows you to pause and reflect. That’s what this unplanned hiatus from blogging has done. The silence has given me a different perspective. And as I’m enjoying my time with family and friends, I look forward to blogging about fun and happy/silly events, while still having an attitude of gratitude.
For those in Northeast Pennsylvania, this post is not about the restaurant with the fabulous pizza and great chicken salad sandwiches. This post is about something very personal from my past, and it was triggered by an event from this morning.
I found out that a former colleague of mine passed away this week. To preface the story, this was someone I worked with nearly 30 years ago, and at the time, I was a young and immature young man who made a LOT of mistakes (honestly, I was a cocky, arrogant pain in the ass.). Even though this colleague still supported me even though they probably wanted to slap me silly, they saw the good in me, and in my abilities. Years later after I’d moved away (and got my incredibly huge dose of reality), I had the chance to reconnect with this colleague, and they were incredibly kind to both me and to Jenn when we’d see them while visiting Upstate New York. This leads me to Dino and Francesca.
Dino and I never clicked….we worked together, and we actually got to a point where we almost came to fisticuffs in the parking lot after work. We were both very customer focus driven, competitive, and then I became the guy who ended up dating his ex. (This was in no way handled like Clapton and George Harrison over Patti Boyd.) In hindsight, I see how I ruffled his feathers, and the feathers of the people we worked with, and although it’s a regret that I’ve had for many years, I learned to forgive myself and move forward.
My history with Francesca is well documented. It’s been in previous blog posts, and to go through all of it again is something I choose not to do anymore. I can’t change it, and I know I’m not the person that she remembers. After going through a horrible divorce, dealing with PTSD, coming very close to a suicide attempt, and being disconnected from my teenage daughter by a vindictive ex-wife, I’ve had a shitload of things happen that far outweigh anything between me and Francesca. Through years of therapy and the support of a loving wife, good friends, and a 120-pound Floofinator who loves me unconditionally, I’ve learned to value who I am, and not base my opinion of myself on my past mistakes or the opinions of others who don’t forgive.
There was a group communication this morning about a memorial for our colleague, and when I joined, you can guess who the first two people I saw were….Dino and Francesca. I said some kind words about our friend who had passed, and then I realized that I don’t need to put myself back into that situation, and I removed myself from the group. If they choose to see me the same way they saw me 30 years ago, and they choose never to forgive, that’s their fucking problem, not mine.
Onward and upward….and now all I can think about is chicken salad.
Every spring, I try to pick a musical artist to be my Summer favorite…..usually it’s someone that’d I’d recently seen in concert, or someone recommended to me by a musician friend. With the restrictions of COVID for the past year, I haven’t been to any concerts, and really have been limited in interaction with a lot of musicians.
As I was flipping through my streaming services the other day, I stumbled upon a documentary on Amazon Prime that I knew was released a few years back, but was impossible for me to find. It’s the documentary “Horn From the Heart – The Paul Butterfield Story.”
Paul Butterfield was a legendary blues musician, and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band was at one point a dominant force in both blues and rock music, as they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2015. Butterfield’s impact both musically and socially in blues music will never be replicated. Growing up in the Hyde Park section of Chicago, he was blessed with the opportunity to not only learn the blues from legends like Little Walter, Muddy Waters and Albert King, he was encouraged to sit in with these guys as his way to becoming an amazing blues musician. His harmonica playing was always top-notch, and as he became known around the Windy City, he was an integral part of introducing the blues to White audiences.
This lead to the formation of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, made up of both Black and White musicians. The band’s biggest years were from 1965 – 1971, and they took blues, rock and a little bit of psychedelia in a direction never taken before. Their albums East-West, The Resurrection of Pigboy Crabshaw, In My Own Dream, and Sometimes I Just Feel Like Smilin’ bring many different styles and tonality to both blues and rock music, and their performance at Woodstock was downright phenomenal, as they had a horn section (featuring a young David Sanborn) that was comparable to the other horn bands like Blood, Sweat & Tears and Chicago.
Although I’ve owned a few of these albums before watching the documentary, I found a renewed passion for them over the past few days. As Butterfield lived in Woodstock from the late 60’s to the early 80’s, this music also makes me think about growing up there, and how much I look forward to going back after being restricted by COVID.
I really look forward to rediscovering these albums all over again this summer….even though it’s the blues, it’s a sound and style that is truly energizing, and when I listen, “sometimes I just feel like smilin!”
Rest In Peace, Paul Butterfield. Thank you for leaving us with your incredible musical legacy.
I’m enjoying a fun Sunday afternoon with Otto, and we’re on his turf….at the dog park.
A year ago, I would’ve laughed if someone told me I’d be enjoying my time at a dog park with a 120-pound Great Pyrenees. Now, I wouldn’t miss the opportunity.
I’ve gotten to know quite of few of the dogs (and their humans) in the community, and there’s definitely a sense of camaraderie between the humans as well as the dogs. We all keep an eye on our dogs the same way we would with our kids, and I’ve learned a lot about other breeds of dogs and their characteristics.
The thing I find most enjoyable is how the dogs all get to know each other without any hesitation….within seconds, the traditional dog greeting (butt sniffing) starts, and then they’re off to the races…butt sniffing aside, I wish we could be as welcoming and non-judgmental in society as the pups are!
I love to see Otto having fun, whether it’s him standing on the fire pit in the backyard, riding in the car, taking our walks together, or hangin’ with his peeps here at the dog park. Every dog should have his day, and I’m glad that Otto has his seven days a week.