Looking at Trees

Ever since my Dad died in ’07 I’ve had a completely different outlook on life. It comes when I glance up at the trees in my backyard, which has always been fairly often, but feels different now.

I just had the 50-year physical checkup done, and most but not all results are in. It’s feeling good so far, but one never looks a healthy horse straight in the mouth, because one never knows. My Colonoscopist takes pride that he finds at least one polyp in 42% of his patients, and last week he was able to add me to his “find” list. There was a single one, (that’s the point of checking, right?), and we will see what the results show before the final Harvest Ale is opened in celebration. (BTW, this year’s Sierra Nevada batch is as good as ever, I’ve already cracked one following my Glaucoma check, which was “negative”. Another reason to be thankful).

So what happens if that little polyp is the evil gremlin, destined to give me grief in the form of active cancer, and forcing me to fight an open battle for my privilege to live this complete lifetime? My childhood friend Scott discovered he had melanoma when he was 36 years old, and lived 10 more years, an amazing record given his prognosis. He had just had his 2nd baby boy when he first learned of his illness, and this son was able to know his Dad until he was 10, giving him the gift of memories he will have and keep for his own lifetime.

Scott fought like hell, putting up with all sorts of humiliations to prolong his life. Painful biopsies and surgeries, scheduled flu-like symptoms at a time of career changes, pre-existing condition denials from his new employer’s HMO, bankruptcy, the whole list. He kicked ass to keep it together, weathering every knock that was required to keep his family moving in a healthy direction together.

Despite the universal fears of dying, on some level I already feel resigned to leave this life at a time that feels right. Emphasis on “feels right”. I know the perception of unfinished business would be a real issue, as I expect it would be for most people. If you have kids and they are not grown, for example, there will always be a feeling of loss if you anticipate being separated prematurely. It’s biological.

I made this excellent corned beef dinner a few weeks ago, and from the first bite it was a great tasting piece of meat. I saw that there were many fatty parts, so I gave my wife and daughters the best pieces and settled for the chewy ones. At other meals I might have split it up equally, but this time it felt right in a way that I think a parent understands. If a mother or father was cold themselves and their kid needed a jacket, they would take it off and give it to their kid, it’s just built-in. You might have some bickering about bringing your jacket next time, but in the moment you would do what was necessary.

So I see what Scott did as coming from a very deep place.

In addition to these universal motivations, I have an agenda of leaving some music behind, something listenable more than once. That’s my minimum standard: you’ve heard it once and wouldn’t mind hearing it a second time. In a world of nearly infinite access to the greatest music of the world, it’s asking a lot.

I don’t know Steve Earle’s music that well, but I heard him say after he finished his first album, “I can die now”. I know just what he means. My first album isn’t done, so I don’t feel ready to die yet, but speaking of that if you would like to hear the first song, click on:

http://www.imeem.com/people/tfx-Ytc/music/-wmar6LN/ed-ford-summerfield-the-bhonging-angel-final-mix-8/

That’s me playing my best on all instruments as well as I can (save for the drums, which were very nicely played by John Hall). It was fun to practice that hard, I went further into myself than I have in the past.

There’s a funny story about the bass player for Fleetwood Mac, John McVie working on his bass part for a song on the first attempt of the Rumors album (they did it twice). After months of work the band knew it was time to call it a day when they found John in the studio staring at an East Indian deity’s picture while he played his bass line over and over, trying to nail his part. For John it didn’t work, but if that gets you the musical take you want I'm with you all the way.

Lately I’ve been singing and practicing myself into a near-rapturous state every night, almost exalted. Other musicians are born with most of their talent from the start. I was not short-changed with my basic gifts, but I now find it necessary and feel quite willing to fight for every note to get even a little better. Fight as hard as Scott did.

So after the kids are grown and some music has been expressed I think I will look up at the trees and feel differently than I do now. I’m not there yet, but my eye is on the ball every day.

And meanwhile, thank you for today.