Capt. Beefheart's 10 Commandments for Guitarists
1. LISTEN TO THE BIRDS
That’s where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast, but a lot of times they aren’t going anywhere.
2. YOUR GUITAR IS NOT REALLY A GUITAR
Your guitar is a divining rod. Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you’re good, you’ll land a big one.
3. PRACTICE IN FRONT OF A BUSH
Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush doesn’t shake, eat another piece of bread.
4. WALK WITH THE DEVIL
Old delta blues players referred to amplifiers as the “devil box.” And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you’re bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts demons and devils. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.
5. IF YOU’RE GUILTY OF THINKING, YOU’RE OUT
If your brain is part of the process, you’re missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing.
6. NEVER POINT YOUR GUITAR AT ANYONE
Your instrument has more power than lightning. Just hit a big chord, then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field.
7. ALWAYS CARRY YOUR CHURCH KEY
You must carry your key and use it when called upon. That’s your part of the bargain. Like One String Sam. He was a Detroit street musician in the fifties who played a homemade instrument. His song “I Need A Hundred Dollars” is warm pie. Another church key holder is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin’ Wolf’s guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty making you want to look up her dress to see how he’s doing it.
8. DON’T WIPE THE SWEAT OFF YOUR INSTRUMENT
You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.
9. KEEP YOUR GUITAR IN A DARK PLACE
When you’re not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don’t play your guitar for more than a day, be sure to put a saucer of water in with it.
10. YOU GOTTA HAVE A HOOD FOR YOUR ENGINE
Wear a hat when you play and keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house the hot air can’t escape. Even a lima bean has to have a wet paper towel around it to make it grow.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Good Health News
I saw the Doctor yesterday. Not only is the red cell count up, but the WHITE CELL count is up for the first time!!! He's taking me off the steroids (slowly) and keeping me on the same chemo drug. I'm up to 158 lbs. I'd had one shot to boost the red cell count about a month ago (they were going to be weekly), but I haven't needed anymore and no more shots are scheduled. I don't have another appointment to see the Doctor until November so things are going right.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Music, Sweet Music, There'll Be Music Everywhere...
One thing good about being on steroids, is that my energy level is back up. I can actually lift the P-Bass, something I couldn't do a few months ago. For the last few months, I've kept a guitar in the living room next to the couch so I could pick it up and play it whenever I could. Slowly it's coming back. I bought a couple of instruction videos for playing Chicago style blues guitar and I'm working with them.
The other night I went to Tuatha practice. We have some gigs coming up, but the substitute bass player will be taking care of the low notes. We played the songs that I don't play bass on and then got out my slide and kind of noodled in the background. It was fun! Maybe I can do that at some of the upcoming shows.
For the last couple of Mondays Paul, Tom & the Green Band have gotten together. The band consists of Tom Surace on fretless bass, Deb Braynt on drums and myself playing acoustic guitar. Everyone sings. It's a groovy little combo playing a lot of "Reefer Music" from the '20's to the present as well as some country-blues, folk-rock and original material. Think early Hot Tuna as a rough analog.
We thought of adding a fourth member, but it sounds good as is. We're going to carry on as a trio until the right person comes along. Ideally that would be someone who sings and plays a solid rhythm acoustic guitar but also plays fiddle, accordion, Dobro or ???
I think we'll be gigging soon. A My Space and/or Facebook page will be forthcoming.
It feels good to be making music again.
The other night I went to Tuatha practice. We have some gigs coming up, but the substitute bass player will be taking care of the low notes. We played the songs that I don't play bass on and then got out my slide and kind of noodled in the background. It was fun! Maybe I can do that at some of the upcoming shows.
For the last couple of Mondays Paul, Tom & the Green Band have gotten together. The band consists of Tom Surace on fretless bass, Deb Braynt on drums and myself playing acoustic guitar. Everyone sings. It's a groovy little combo playing a lot of "Reefer Music" from the '20's to the present as well as some country-blues, folk-rock and original material. Think early Hot Tuna as a rough analog.
We thought of adding a fourth member, but it sounds good as is. We're going to carry on as a trio until the right person comes along. Ideally that would be someone who sings and plays a solid rhythm acoustic guitar but also plays fiddle, accordion, Dobro or ???
I think we'll be gigging soon. A My Space and/or Facebook page will be forthcoming.
It feels good to be making music again.
Back to the Blog
Finally I figured out how to get back in here to post on the blog. Yee Haw!
So, here's the latest update.
In March, after being sick in February, I found out that I had Large Granular Lympocyte Leukemia. What that means is that my white cells are not dying off, they aren't fighting off infections and they aren't letting young healthy white cells get in and do the job. I started a pill form of chemotheropy and went through a lot of different stages of illness. I had fevers, fatigue and slept a lot.
In late April I went to Jackson Hole and ended up in the hospital with secondary infections. They filled with antibiotics and kept me in ICU. I transfered to Poudre Valley Hospital here in Fort Collins and stayed a few more days before going home. The following ten days I had home care and recieved IV antibiotics twice a day. That's when my stomach freaked out. I couldn't eat much of anything without feeling like a war was going on in my belly. I could eat rice, and a few other things. That was mid May. Slowly over the months I figured out ways to eat more and settle my stomach (ginger ale, MMJ, Noosa Yogurt, Kay Williams' chicken soup...), but in the meantime I lost weight and was at one point down to 134 lbs. I also went through a period of severe dehydration around the fourth of July and was going in for IV's. I looked like a survivor of a POW camp.
At the beginning of September, they put me on a daily steriod. Something clicked. My stomach got better, I can eat about anything now, my weight is up to over 150 lbs and I have energy again. I hope it lasts when they take me off of them.
I'm still doing chemo, but while my red cell counts are up, the white cells are the same. It looks like they're going to change my chemo drug. We'll see what happens next!
So, here's the latest update.
In March, after being sick in February, I found out that I had Large Granular Lympocyte Leukemia. What that means is that my white cells are not dying off, they aren't fighting off infections and they aren't letting young healthy white cells get in and do the job. I started a pill form of chemotheropy and went through a lot of different stages of illness. I had fevers, fatigue and slept a lot.
In late April I went to Jackson Hole and ended up in the hospital with secondary infections. They filled with antibiotics and kept me in ICU. I transfered to Poudre Valley Hospital here in Fort Collins and stayed a few more days before going home. The following ten days I had home care and recieved IV antibiotics twice a day. That's when my stomach freaked out. I couldn't eat much of anything without feeling like a war was going on in my belly. I could eat rice, and a few other things. That was mid May. Slowly over the months I figured out ways to eat more and settle my stomach (ginger ale, MMJ, Noosa Yogurt, Kay Williams' chicken soup...), but in the meantime I lost weight and was at one point down to 134 lbs. I also went through a period of severe dehydration around the fourth of July and was going in for IV's. I looked like a survivor of a POW camp.
At the beginning of September, they put me on a daily steriod. Something clicked. My stomach got better, I can eat about anything now, my weight is up to over 150 lbs and I have energy again. I hope it lasts when they take me off of them.
I'm still doing chemo, but while my red cell counts are up, the white cells are the same. It looks like they're going to change my chemo drug. We'll see what happens next!
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas
Holiday greetings, one and all!!!
Not much to say right now. Due to colds, we had to cancel our vist to the relatives. Instead we slept or watched strange Holiday TV specials. Had soup for dinner and went to bed early. I don't think it cleared 20 degrees and the wind was howling. The half block walk to feed the neighbor's cats was a struggle. They seemed happy to be fed and petted.
Still the spirit of the season shines. Hope it touches you.
Keep the Sol in Solstice!
Not much to say right now. Due to colds, we had to cancel our vist to the relatives. Instead we slept or watched strange Holiday TV specials. Had soup for dinner and went to bed early. I don't think it cleared 20 degrees and the wind was howling. The half block walk to feed the neighbor's cats was a struggle. They seemed happy to be fed and petted.
Still the spirit of the season shines. Hope it touches you.
Keep the Sol in Solstice!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Remembering Zechariah
Last Wednesday I got a message that one of my oldest and closest friends had died complications from Hepatitis C. It’s been a year for losses. Les Paul, an old school pal, Eddie Johnson, my sister-in-law, Kathy… It seems like every time I fire up the computer someone I know just died. Zech’s death hit me the hardest, though.
In the past few years his health had been in decline. He was living with his elderly parents in Las Vegas, an atmosphere that was anything but supportive. He’d trashed his body doing physical labor as a cement mason and his immune system was weakened by a bout with cancer in the late ‘70’s that he beat, but he thought that it was during his time in the hospital that he contracted the hepatitis. And he was anything but a candidate for a transplant.
In the last few years it seemed like he was a test subject for what ever drugs his doctors wanted to experiment with. He went through quite a few doctors and I think it took a while for him to get a proper diagnosis. And the drugs affected him in different ways. Zech would call me, usually on Sunday afternoons when his cell phone rates were cheapest and I’d listen to his latest adventures. You were never quite sure what you were going to get. Some conversations would be more coherent then others. And they left me in various states from sadness to hopefulness. He had a fighting spirit and was making plans for the future up until the end.
Another aspect of Zech’s personality was that he was always encouraging and positive, especially encouraging me with my music. He was always glad to hear when I was out playing and told me it was what I should be doing. The other side of that was that he could come down hard on himself. He could be your biggest cheerleader and his own worst critic. The last time we spoke was about two weeks ago. As we finished up the conversation he said something about his doctors giving him another five years to live. The thought that jumped in to my mind was that he wouldn’t be around anywhere near that long. But I had no idea it would be a matter of weeks.
I first met Zech on a trip to Tucson. One summer two friends, Dave and Frank, borrowed another friend’s ’59 Chevy Panel Truck and we went on the road driving from the bay area, to LA, Tucson, The Grand Canyon, Provo, Utah, Yellowstone, Seattle and back down the coast. Zech was the roommate of friends we had in Tucson. A bond was made and we kept in touch. A few years later we re-connected at a wedding and a few years after that, Dave brought him up to Eureka where I was living and we got a house together. That first night we got out the guitars and jammed.
Before long, we heard that we could sing for our supper at a place in Arcata called the International Peasant. Then we found out that not only could we get fed, but we could also get paid at Tomaso’s Tomato Pies in Eureka. That soon became our home base. As the King Salmon Nuke Spooks (believe it or not, at that time, no one could spell “nuke.” It was almost always misspelled “nook”), we became one of three or four ensembles who rotated on Friday and Saturday nights. We added Dan Berkowitz on bass and had occasional guests from other bands. The band name came from the fact that we lived in the village of King Salmon, right next to the Humboldt Bay Nuclear Power Plant. And when he’d been in the army, Dave worked on the electronics of the nuclear arsenal in Germany.
In Eureka, I was a sometime student and janitor, Dave was a fulltime student on the G.I. Bill and Zak had a number of jobs including Special Ed teacher and logger. One of Zech’s nicknames was “Skinner.” He was a skinny guy, anything but the typical lumberjack. He didn’t last long, but he gave his best.
It was a wonderful time to be young. There were many beautiful girls in our lives. Zech attracted many. He was a little pock marked but good looking and charming as could be. And when he sang that voice would just melt their hearts. There were a few he loved and lost that he could have probably settled down with. But that was never to be.
The music carried us. We could be cranky, depressed, over thinking a situation and we’d get together and sing and all of the BS would be gone. We weren’t the greatest band there ever was, but we made magic together. There were times we’d be playing and Zech would throw in a harmony that would make give you goose flesh. There was a spot in the set where he’d play two chords on the guitar back and forth, usually Am7 to Gm7 and he’d improvise lyrics while Dave, Dan and I backed him up throwing in lead licks or vocal fills. That was often the highlight of our show.
The Nuke Spooks were from the CSN school of music, acoustic guitars and harmony singing. Only we rarely worked out our vocal parts. And besides the sensitive singer-songwriter stuff, we played some songs that the Fugs might have found appealing. But it made people laugh and sing along. We never took it that seriously.
The show was arranged where we’d play a dinner set of softer songs, then at 10:00 PM, we’d take all the tables out and stack ‘em outside by the front of the door and play rowdy dance music. Our bass player, Dan also played Sousaphone for the HSU marching band. To begin the dance set we’d go out the side door of the restaurant and walk down the alley playing “When the Saints Go Marching In” entering through the front door and up on the little platform that was our stage.
Another part of our show was the Hoky Poky where we’d sing, “You put your crotch in, you put your crotch out, you put your crotch in and you shake it all about…” And we also played musical chairs where the winner got a pitcher of beer. After a little while we realized that we could rig the results. We tried to be fair, but there were those nights when you thought to yourself, “which one of those girls would I like to see drunk?” and we’d stop the music appropriately.
Zech was the first to leave Humboldt County. I don’t remember the circumstance, but I think he got his heart broke and shipping out was his way of dealing with things. Dave and Dan and I played a few gigs afterwards, but it wasn’t The Nuke Spooks anymore. Dave bought a mandolin and moved to Arizona where he started playing old time string band music, which led him to Celtic music. He’s since become one of the best Celtic Mandolin players on the planet.
Since then our paths crossed. I ended up in Tucson on and off and Zech was living there some of that time. After living in Minneapolis, Dave relocated there too bringing his soon to be bride, Jean, with him. Though we played together from time to time, we never had a band again. Zech had little self-confidence in his abilities as a musician, I wanted to play rock ‘n’ roll and Dave was playing the contra dances.
After a difficult break up, it was my turn to runaway and join the circus. I hooked up with the Elkins, WV band “Trapezoid” and worked for a couple of years as their touring sound-dude, merch peddler and assistant office manager. One tour brought us to Arizona. We were playing up in Tempe and I made sure that Dave and Zech were on the guest list. Only it was real hard to get Zech to go out. So Dave called him up and said, “Let’s go out for a burger.” That was something Zech could relate to. So Dave picked him up and they got to talking and driving and around Casa Grande, Zech turned to Dave and said, “Just where is this burger place were going to?”
It’s interesting to note that Dave used this same ploy to get Zech out of the house (and town) at least two other times!
Zech was Polish. He made Dave and I honorary Polish Brothers. He was proud of that part of his family heritage, even though he rejected a lot of other aspects of it. His parents had a strong influence on him, not always positive. I don’t know the details so I’ll refrain from saying more. One story I do know was that Zech was pressured to play golf as a teenager. By all accounts, he was great at it. Only he hated golf. So he never developed his talent.
One game he was good at and liked was billiards. Besides a little herb dealing he made his way through the University of Arizona as a pool hustler. During our time in Eureka, Zech entered a pool contest in Arcata. We used to have the chart of the matches and the outcomes on our wall. Starting at the bottom of the list he ended up winning it all. During his last match, he cleared the table. His opponent left the bar whining, “He didn’t even give me a chance to shoot.”
Zech was a compassionate soul. He’d help you in any way he could. But if you crossed him, or he felt you burned him, then you no longer existed. He was also psychic. His abilities got strongest right before he started taking medication for his illness while living in Las Vegas. In one instance, he gave a women he knew the numbers that won her a substantial amount of money at a casino. The next time he was in that casino for the buffet, two burley guys escorted him out and told him in no uncertain terms that he was unwelcome there, or any other casino in Vegas. Yes, it was related to the woman’s winnings. How they found out, I never knew.
He was good at predicting things. He predicted things about my partner Laura’s brother’s life that were dead on. He told Laura some thing’s as well that were scary accurate. I’m not sure how to came to be but his doctors diagnosed him with psychosis and the drugs they gave him diminished his gift and he gave up his powers. He wasn’t psychotic, he was psychic. And “Medical Science” doesn’t yet recognize the difference. Yes, they still burn witches in the 21st Century. Only they burn them from the inside out with anti-depressants and mood-altering chemicals. Living in Las Vegas he didn’t have a support network he could trust to practice his gift openly. And he suffered for it.
He could be one of the funniest people, too. There were things he said that I’ll never forget. Little one liners, comments, descriptions. Some I could write, others I shouldn’t use in polite company. I could go on with Zech stories. But I’ll save them for another time. I regret that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I couldn’t get to Las Vegas in time for the services and the last time I talked to him, I thought there’d be another chance.
I’ll miss those weird Sunday phone calls, his laugh, but most of all his voice soaring along with mine. One night Zech and I sang with Belle Weil, a dear friend and one of Zech’s loves at a little restaurant/bar in Arcata. I played guitar and there was an amazing bassist and drummer backing us up. We played “Wooden Ships.” We sang that song like a prayer, like our lives depended on it. CSN or Jefferson Airplane couldn’t hold a candle to us that night. Those are the moments I’ll forever keep in my heart when I think of Zech.
I’ll miss you, my Polish Brother. God Speed.
In the past few years his health had been in decline. He was living with his elderly parents in Las Vegas, an atmosphere that was anything but supportive. He’d trashed his body doing physical labor as a cement mason and his immune system was weakened by a bout with cancer in the late ‘70’s that he beat, but he thought that it was during his time in the hospital that he contracted the hepatitis. And he was anything but a candidate for a transplant.
In the last few years it seemed like he was a test subject for what ever drugs his doctors wanted to experiment with. He went through quite a few doctors and I think it took a while for him to get a proper diagnosis. And the drugs affected him in different ways. Zech would call me, usually on Sunday afternoons when his cell phone rates were cheapest and I’d listen to his latest adventures. You were never quite sure what you were going to get. Some conversations would be more coherent then others. And they left me in various states from sadness to hopefulness. He had a fighting spirit and was making plans for the future up until the end.
Another aspect of Zech’s personality was that he was always encouraging and positive, especially encouraging me with my music. He was always glad to hear when I was out playing and told me it was what I should be doing. The other side of that was that he could come down hard on himself. He could be your biggest cheerleader and his own worst critic. The last time we spoke was about two weeks ago. As we finished up the conversation he said something about his doctors giving him another five years to live. The thought that jumped in to my mind was that he wouldn’t be around anywhere near that long. But I had no idea it would be a matter of weeks.
I first met Zech on a trip to Tucson. One summer two friends, Dave and Frank, borrowed another friend’s ’59 Chevy Panel Truck and we went on the road driving from the bay area, to LA, Tucson, The Grand Canyon, Provo, Utah, Yellowstone, Seattle and back down the coast. Zech was the roommate of friends we had in Tucson. A bond was made and we kept in touch. A few years later we re-connected at a wedding and a few years after that, Dave brought him up to Eureka where I was living and we got a house together. That first night we got out the guitars and jammed.
Before long, we heard that we could sing for our supper at a place in Arcata called the International Peasant. Then we found out that not only could we get fed, but we could also get paid at Tomaso’s Tomato Pies in Eureka. That soon became our home base. As the King Salmon Nuke Spooks (believe it or not, at that time, no one could spell “nuke.” It was almost always misspelled “nook”), we became one of three or four ensembles who rotated on Friday and Saturday nights. We added Dan Berkowitz on bass and had occasional guests from other bands. The band name came from the fact that we lived in the village of King Salmon, right next to the Humboldt Bay Nuclear Power Plant. And when he’d been in the army, Dave worked on the electronics of the nuclear arsenal in Germany.
In Eureka, I was a sometime student and janitor, Dave was a fulltime student on the G.I. Bill and Zak had a number of jobs including Special Ed teacher and logger. One of Zech’s nicknames was “Skinner.” He was a skinny guy, anything but the typical lumberjack. He didn’t last long, but he gave his best.
It was a wonderful time to be young. There were many beautiful girls in our lives. Zech attracted many. He was a little pock marked but good looking and charming as could be. And when he sang that voice would just melt their hearts. There were a few he loved and lost that he could have probably settled down with. But that was never to be.
The music carried us. We could be cranky, depressed, over thinking a situation and we’d get together and sing and all of the BS would be gone. We weren’t the greatest band there ever was, but we made magic together. There were times we’d be playing and Zech would throw in a harmony that would make give you goose flesh. There was a spot in the set where he’d play two chords on the guitar back and forth, usually Am7 to Gm7 and he’d improvise lyrics while Dave, Dan and I backed him up throwing in lead licks or vocal fills. That was often the highlight of our show.
The Nuke Spooks were from the CSN school of music, acoustic guitars and harmony singing. Only we rarely worked out our vocal parts. And besides the sensitive singer-songwriter stuff, we played some songs that the Fugs might have found appealing. But it made people laugh and sing along. We never took it that seriously.
The show was arranged where we’d play a dinner set of softer songs, then at 10:00 PM, we’d take all the tables out and stack ‘em outside by the front of the door and play rowdy dance music. Our bass player, Dan also played Sousaphone for the HSU marching band. To begin the dance set we’d go out the side door of the restaurant and walk down the alley playing “When the Saints Go Marching In” entering through the front door and up on the little platform that was our stage.
Another part of our show was the Hoky Poky where we’d sing, “You put your crotch in, you put your crotch out, you put your crotch in and you shake it all about…” And we also played musical chairs where the winner got a pitcher of beer. After a little while we realized that we could rig the results. We tried to be fair, but there were those nights when you thought to yourself, “which one of those girls would I like to see drunk?” and we’d stop the music appropriately.
Zech was the first to leave Humboldt County. I don’t remember the circumstance, but I think he got his heart broke and shipping out was his way of dealing with things. Dave and Dan and I played a few gigs afterwards, but it wasn’t The Nuke Spooks anymore. Dave bought a mandolin and moved to Arizona where he started playing old time string band music, which led him to Celtic music. He’s since become one of the best Celtic Mandolin players on the planet.
Since then our paths crossed. I ended up in Tucson on and off and Zech was living there some of that time. After living in Minneapolis, Dave relocated there too bringing his soon to be bride, Jean, with him. Though we played together from time to time, we never had a band again. Zech had little self-confidence in his abilities as a musician, I wanted to play rock ‘n’ roll and Dave was playing the contra dances.
After a difficult break up, it was my turn to runaway and join the circus. I hooked up with the Elkins, WV band “Trapezoid” and worked for a couple of years as their touring sound-dude, merch peddler and assistant office manager. One tour brought us to Arizona. We were playing up in Tempe and I made sure that Dave and Zech were on the guest list. Only it was real hard to get Zech to go out. So Dave called him up and said, “Let’s go out for a burger.” That was something Zech could relate to. So Dave picked him up and they got to talking and driving and around Casa Grande, Zech turned to Dave and said, “Just where is this burger place were going to?”
It’s interesting to note that Dave used this same ploy to get Zech out of the house (and town) at least two other times!
Zech was Polish. He made Dave and I honorary Polish Brothers. He was proud of that part of his family heritage, even though he rejected a lot of other aspects of it. His parents had a strong influence on him, not always positive. I don’t know the details so I’ll refrain from saying more. One story I do know was that Zech was pressured to play golf as a teenager. By all accounts, he was great at it. Only he hated golf. So he never developed his talent.
One game he was good at and liked was billiards. Besides a little herb dealing he made his way through the University of Arizona as a pool hustler. During our time in Eureka, Zech entered a pool contest in Arcata. We used to have the chart of the matches and the outcomes on our wall. Starting at the bottom of the list he ended up winning it all. During his last match, he cleared the table. His opponent left the bar whining, “He didn’t even give me a chance to shoot.”
Zech was a compassionate soul. He’d help you in any way he could. But if you crossed him, or he felt you burned him, then you no longer existed. He was also psychic. His abilities got strongest right before he started taking medication for his illness while living in Las Vegas. In one instance, he gave a women he knew the numbers that won her a substantial amount of money at a casino. The next time he was in that casino for the buffet, two burley guys escorted him out and told him in no uncertain terms that he was unwelcome there, or any other casino in Vegas. Yes, it was related to the woman’s winnings. How they found out, I never knew.
He was good at predicting things. He predicted things about my partner Laura’s brother’s life that were dead on. He told Laura some thing’s as well that were scary accurate. I’m not sure how to came to be but his doctors diagnosed him with psychosis and the drugs they gave him diminished his gift and he gave up his powers. He wasn’t psychotic, he was psychic. And “Medical Science” doesn’t yet recognize the difference. Yes, they still burn witches in the 21st Century. Only they burn them from the inside out with anti-depressants and mood-altering chemicals. Living in Las Vegas he didn’t have a support network he could trust to practice his gift openly. And he suffered for it.
He could be one of the funniest people, too. There were things he said that I’ll never forget. Little one liners, comments, descriptions. Some I could write, others I shouldn’t use in polite company. I could go on with Zech stories. But I’ll save them for another time. I regret that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I couldn’t get to Las Vegas in time for the services and the last time I talked to him, I thought there’d be another chance.
I’ll miss those weird Sunday phone calls, his laugh, but most of all his voice soaring along with mine. One night Zech and I sang with Belle Weil, a dear friend and one of Zech’s loves at a little restaurant/bar in Arcata. I played guitar and there was an amazing bassist and drummer backing us up. We played “Wooden Ships.” We sang that song like a prayer, like our lives depended on it. CSN or Jefferson Airplane couldn’t hold a candle to us that night. Those are the moments I’ll forever keep in my heart when I think of Zech.
I’ll miss you, my Polish Brother. God Speed.
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