Patrick and Dave

No Haiku, just a memory of two men who died recently.

Dave Brubeck.  I saw him a few years ago in concert, some silly ass afterwards, an autograph hunter, precluded more than a word, and I have blurry picture to remember the event by, better than nothing at all.  he played a new piece at the concert, Um, I think it was called London Calling.

Brubeck started my deep love of Jazz.  I’d always liked it, but Brubeck fired something in me that I had not known was there.  I know so much more about Jazz now, and still I know hardly anything at all, because really, there is so much to know.  I’d heard the pieces of his music, Unsquare Dance, Take Five, Kathy’s Waltz from that seminal album, and I never grow tired of listening to it, got to know the music of other members of the quartet, particularly Paul Desmond (d.1977), and as I penetrated the Jazz world I realised, a few years ago, that most of my musical heroes, unlike Brubeck and Desmond, are black.  I had never known, because I had not seen pictures.  Miles Davis, Charles Mingus and so many others, they define for me what is cool, that laid back music and beat of what came to be the “Birth of Cool”, (and you should look at say, this, if you want to see what I mean).

In the end though, for me, I keep coming back to Brubeck, the Goddess know I love trad jazz and jazz funk, but Brubeck and Desmond took my already deliberate, purposeful listening to music and moved to to a higher level.  Brubeck got in my soul, and he’s never leaving.

He’s going to have to make room though…

I never met Patrick Moore, apparently I used to do a rather good impersonation of him when I was drunk, alas, that situation no longer obtains, I’m too cheap a date, and my impersonating days are long past.

I read early, very early, (um, get over this), and so by the age of I don’t know, four, I was reading his books, his fiction, his commentary about the stars.  He was a prolific writer.

I am also half way through his self written biography in which which he settled something it had never occurred to me was an issue.  He never married because his sweetheart was killed in the War, THE War, the second big one.  He was so forthright about it, and so simply stated that there was never anyone else for him, that I was instantly struck by the profound love he must have had for his girl, and I cried for days for this loss, and as I write this, I am tearing up even now.

Patrick Moore was in my life, as in the lives of so many others, as someone who could explain and fascinate, who could make the complex simple, and the very complex comprehensible by mere mortals.  He started, for me a lifelong fascination with science and space.  He lived a good long life, and was a funny and intelligent man.  I don’t have the words to properly articulate all the feelings I have about his passing, but I would have the world know this; I have been the greater for his existence, and all unknowing he has contributed so much to my life, and I will miss him for the rest of my days.

 

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