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an older frank sinatra sang lyrics from “the way you look tonight”/and they used it for a commercial/with stills of frank singing and smiling/and who knows what the commercial was advertising/but i trust it showed to frank/that he still had it/and was valued

a really old tony bennett/brought tears to lady gaga’s eyes/simply by recognizing her when she came out to sing with him/and they sang timelessly together/though tony was addled with dementia

glen campbell and alice cooper were golfing together/and glen told alice a joke early in the round/and then told him the same joke later in the round/and yet again before the round was over/but glen kept on performing on stage/and bathing in the applause/and he was still really good/and muscle memory kept his guitar playing astonishing

and i identify with and cheer for those old guys/and learn from them/that spending the last of your life making music/even when much of you is gone/is a glorious testament to “the show must go on”

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i was an art major in college/and jokingly told my friends and family/that i was getting an early jump on my retirement

turns out not to be a joke

i will be seventy-one before the end of august

and i blissfully spend hours and hours making things on the potter’s wheel

i turn lumps into cylinders and cylinders into chess pieces and goblets and vases and birds

and I watch with increasing detachment as another part of my mind slowly erodes

for instance I did a search on “glenn campbell”/because i’d forgotten that “glen” has only one n in it

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but back to “the way you look tonight”

it is a distant echo of the lines “And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes” from “She Walks in Beauty” by george gordon, lord byron

“aspect” loosely translating as “the way she looks”

fun fact: “specchio” is old italian for “looking-glass”

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i don’t give a care about leaving a good-looking corpse

but i care fervidly about leaving some good-looking and well-made clay art

so I raise the “power turquoise” cup i made, and i raise it to you, whoever and wherever you are,

and say, though i cannot see you,

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

The gentleman of color was playing his guitar outside the Walgreen’s. Instead of a guitar case to put contributions to his busking, he had a gourd-shaped woven basket. He also had a sign affirming his service as a member of the U. S. Marine Corps, adding “Semper Fi” and “God Bless.”

I went into the Walgreen’s and got some cash at the Chase ATM, bought a Diet Pepsi, and went back outside. The guitarist was wrapping up Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” with a good melody line and easy-listening riffs. I put a dollar of my change in his basket and when he was done with “Piano Man” I asked him if he took requests.

“Whatcha got?”

“How about ‘Just My Imagination’?”

Pause. “How’s it go?”

[rusty a capella] “I WAIT at my WINDow I WATCH her as she passes by . . .” At the very end of my sorry recital he got a gleam of recognition. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that one. Tell you what–you sing and I’ll play.”

Well, I walked into that one, all right. “All right.”

It might help to know that I don’t list Singing amongst my talents. I can sing only under ideal conditions, which include being surrounded by a shower stall, no one else listening, and only using the best of at least six takes. But he asked for it.

People entering the store seemed to be hurrying to get inside. People leaving the store seemed to be hurrying away. But it might have been “Just My Imagination.” But it felt good. But if it had been camcorded, I think there were ten seconds or so where we both sounded really good. And at the end I felt like a million bucks.

I shook his hand and said I hoped to see him again. With a slight smile he said, “Oh yeah, you will.”

*****

I thought of doing an artist’s conception of that performance. But after I took pencil, stump and eraser to paper, I had a Better Not moment, and this ended up on paper instead:

nvd 021515