Mom’s Mood

Music, Mother’s, and Thelonius Monk. Wow. This is a great read filled with introspection, longing, and wonderings. On a personal note, I don’t possess much Jeopardy-type knowledge about the composer, Erik Satie, but I do know that I love his Gymnopédie No.1 ever since the first time I heard it spilling from my oldest brother’s room when I was 16. Great post, Tony!


Me and Mom at Leake & Watts Children’s Home, Circa 1965

In 1972, after scouring our dresser drawers, plumbing the

spaces between the seat cushions of our family car, and
running our fingers through the living room carpet, my sister and I pooled our loose change and bought our parents Christmas presents.
Pop got an electric razor, and we got my mom an
album by Chicago. This was pretty good for an 11-year-old with a bunch of pennies. But I could have done better. Not for my pop – he still needs to shave – but for my mom, who would’ve liked a recording by Thelonious Monk.
Me and my mom weren’t real close. It wasn’t a matter of not loving her, just that being a “boy” – at least according to the pathologically old-school mentality that ruled in my house meant living in a world where the line…

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