The Good Stuff

The last post, while cathartic, is not the way I want to leave the year. There was plenty of good stuff in 2018 to go along with the bad. Plenty of fun to be had, picking among the cow pies thrown my way. In particular, I got to see at least three excellent live music performances and to travel. It wasn't a great year for concerts in Raleigh, so I wound up going elsewhere.

First up was some sophisticated jazz in the form of the Maria Schneider Orchestra over at Baldwin Auditorium on Duke's East Campus. I didn't know who she was, but any time I see big band jazz playing, more and more uncommon nowadays, count me in. It was a fantastic night with a really great group of musicians. Maria had a way of orchestrating in the most unusual ways. For instance, there was an absolutely fabulous accordion player rocking out in ways that I didn't know an accordion could. And the last piece, with the bass saxophone doing a long bird call solo, was magnificent. If she comes around again, I will definitely be there.

It was a magical night, buying tickets strictly on instinct. Then it snowed, not much, but in North Carolina it doesn't take much for full scale panic. Being in early April, you knew it wasn't going to hang around long. Despite the weather, it was a sell out crowd and a great night of sophisticated jazz.

There were two weeks in Antigua, one each in a different resort. Friends Roger and Carey were there both weeks, great company, and it was great despite the increasing sargassum hitting the shores. The first week was at Pineapple Resort, a beach we had visited many time but a new place to stay. It is the favorite of the locals, and on Sunday there were hundreds enjoying the water.

Roger and Carey were wonderful to hang out with, and Pineapple was more of a party. Located on the northeast corner of the island on Long Beach, it is great for snorkeling and swimming. We did our share, as well as hanging out at the new pool with the giant fan hanging over it. The video for 'Adrift' was all shot at that resort.

The next week we moved to our time share location, the St. James Club on the southeast corner of Antigua. It is rough, windy and remote there, but with over a hundred acres, you have plenty of room to do your own thing. Eric Clapton lives just over the hill, and Timothy Dalton owns the very end and can occasionally be seen kayaking in the bay. It's a great resort and we've been there enough times not to feel like a tourist anymore, having many friends among the other guests and staff.

My brother did meet us there, although I wasn't sure if he ever managed to get his passport or get on the plane. To me delight he arrived, although he had no clothes. I took him to the little store in the resort and outfitted him in the only things big enough to fit him. He seemed content to watch Chinese television all day. Being a true Irish red head, he was afraid of frying like a piece of bacon.

Since I wanted to show my brother the entire island, particularly the Caribbean side, which is totally different, I rented a car. It was a bit challenging to drive on the wrong side of the road, my wife in the back seat telling me everything that I was doing wrong, but after fifteen minutes it really didn't matter. We love Jolly Harbor and Jolly Beach and spent a day walking the huge expanse of sand.

The next day just my brother and I went wandering around the island, avoiding donkeys and goats on the roads. We ended up in Falmouth Harbor at Skullduggery Rum Distillery. After seeing the sign below, we had to try the punch. After about five each, we crawled back to the resort. They were cheap, tasty, and lethal.

Roger and Carey were there with their daughter and her family, making the second week much more of a family affair. We managed a great boat trip to a ecological resort on Green Island full of wind surfers flying through the sky. There was also a big party on the beach and other festivities. We ended our vacation with a nice dinner in a swanky restaurant.

Once back home, I started tearing through the upstairs, emptying each room before I painted. A lot of stuff wound up being donated to charity, if it wasn't simply tossed in the trash. I actually like to paint, but there was a lot of general cleaning as well, not as much fun. Then it was time to put things back, often in a re-organized manner, like in my home studio.

There were a couple of great concerts over the summer, even if we had to do an overnight to Charlotte to see the acts. First up was Jeff Beck and Paul Rogers. We'd had the privilege to see Jeff before in Cary around a dozen or so years before, opening for B.B King. No offence, but, doing an entire instrumental set with just a keyboard player and drummer, he blew the blues master off the stage. In my honest opinion, he is the greatest guitar player on the planet, with a technique that is all touch, absolutely fabulous.

This time he had a singer with him and was dong more of a retrospective of his entire career. It wasn't as revelatory as the last time, but he was having to complete for an audience with Paul Rogers. He still plays amazingly well, tender and brutal in equal measures, able to turn on a dime. I can only hold him in the highest regard as a musician.

Paul Rogers was the revelation this time. The consummate front man, he wasn't doing an entire set of Free material as he had in England, probably because American audiences were more familiar with Bad Company. He did mix it up from both eras, and he had the audience in the palm of his hand from the first note to the last. You could understand why they hired him to replace Freddie Mercury in Queen; he might be only one of a handful of people on the planet who could fill those shoes.

My wife got a huge advancement at work, big enough to push back retirement a year. She still loves her job, so there was no reason to sneak out the back door like I did. She is a valuable asset, and when she leaves, they will have big shoes to fill. Unfortunately, the new hob prevented her from going to the second concert we has lined up.

Deep Purple is a group that I saw under the worse circumstances possible, making it through one song before a friend became violently sick from drinking a couple of fifths. It was 1974, Ian Gillan wasn't in the band, so no great loss. When we heard they were coming to town, we got tickets. Susan unable to attend, my friend Jay stepped in.

My brother had just died, so there was some howling at the moon that needed to be done. We had a great time, even enjoying Judas Priest, the opening act, even though I'm really not a metal head, more of a hard rock purist. When Purple came out, without the costume changes or flaming videos in the background, clad in street clothes, just out playing every other band on the planet while having a great time, it was heaven.

These guys have a swing that makes them totally different from either Black Sabbath or even Led Zeppelin, even though the three are always grouped together. Furthermore, Steve Morse is a better guitarist than Ritchie Blackmore, actually having fun on stage, flamers be damned. The real revelation was Don Airey, who has come on strong in recent years, even outplaying the mighty and sorely missed Jon Lord.

Even my bother's funeral, sad and emotional as it was, had its up side. My daughter came home and chipped in, since we had the reception afterwards at our house. My brother's wife family came in large numbers and we made some new connections. It was important to do things our way, to have just a little control over the situation.

Best was catching up with some old friends. My brother had largely isolated himself in the last few years. Meeting Tim and Darlene after twenty years was great, just like we had never been apart. I do think that in another life Tim and I could have been a comedy team. We had the place in stitches, just like an Irish wake should be.

After that, it was Venice. I've already raved about the place, but it cannot be under-emphasized how much that city impressed me. Best, we had enough time to get to know it a little. That's important, because Venice is the easiest location to get lost in that I've ever been to, all alleys and dead ends.

I went there for the art and culture, and I left with an overdose. We went with a group called Road Scholars, and I cannot recommend them enough if you wanting to really get to know a place. I knew a little about the art, but I came away knowing a hell of a lot more about the history and culture. We can't wait to get a chance to return.

Thanksgiving was another chance to see our daughter. Lisa is incredibly successful, living in Oakland and working in San Francisco. She was always fearless as a child, and it's only gotten worse with age. She even has a couple of icons made of her face, talking so often at cyber currency conferences.

We invited my brother's kids over and hosted a low key affair. It was perhaps more important to give thanks in difficult times than in happy ones. The world was spinning down, the days getting shorter and darker. We made it festive, remembering the ones we lost.

All too soon it was Christmas. The year, difficult as it was, ended in the best of all possible ways. No matter what is happening in the outside world, we love each other and take care of each other. Only the dog seemed unhappy.

In the end, I am always reminded of my Mother's advice about life in general. I swear that this is exactly what she said, and it is how I plan of living going into the next phase of my life. 'Living well is the best revenge, and fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." Happy New Year!