Hi and cheers,

I was missing my friend George today who died this year.  He was 67 or 68, had a lot of health problems. We were good friends for 30 years. He was a great local jazz musician, astrologer, book and people lover.  He was always up for going to lunch, movies or musical gigs. He would send me the funniest cards, letters and emails I ever got.  He put me on one of his live albums just because the mike picked up my voice between tunes.  He was always encouraging me to get out there and self market my talents, like publishing or singing old songs in a nightclub routine like a sortof "Marlena Deitrick" thing. We were there for eachother when our mothers passed, and all kinds of other fiascos as well. George was really good at being in the here and now and doing his own thing.  Right up to his last day he was writing his music in his studio.  If I could call him right now he'd prolly say why don't I go over to the club and see old friends?   

It really pi**es me off to lose him.  I wrote this poem about him in Nov. 2003.

JAZZY GEORGE BAR

George is a jazzy guy

who sometimes flies off

as if his thoughts can't help

but go on a riff

of improvisational notes.

This makes for great music

and interesting lunch conversation--

though lunch is sometimes hard

to follow.

And if the tune

is mad or sad

or paranoid--

well, that makes for noteworthy

music too--

and strange and mysterious lyrics.

Don't let any of this fool you.

Beneath the crusty layer

of worldly wounds

there's a golden nugget center--

for which a candy bar

should be named--

a "Jazzy George Bar"

my old friend.                                              (aka TA)