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Yo Yo Ma is No Yo Mama Joke

Last evening I watched the Kennedy Center Honors as I do every year. They usually honor a couple of people I really admire and one (or two) that I know of and learn much more about. Yo Yo Ma fell into that latter category last night.

As I watched the great tribute being bestowed upon him I couldn't help but think of my very own Yo Yo Ma story. And I'll confess about a dozen Yo Mama jokes flooded my head too. But Yo Yo Ma is no Yo Mama joke - he's the world's greatest cellist. And I don't think that's even open for debate.

About a million years ago I worked in the major donor fundraising department of a local (and very popular) public radio station. My boss and I were given a tight corner in what the station fashioned a bustling news room. In this room I experienced all sorts of history: the OJ Simpson, Timothy McVeigh and President Clinton trials; the Bush V Gore election frenzy; the Y2K build-up and... well, you get the idea.

The radio station also boasted 4-5 live performances a week in the 11AM hour. From the unknown to the very famous played in our studios: James Taylor, Willie Nelson, Moby, k.d. lang, Pink Martini, Rickie Lee Jones, Beck, Tom Waits - just to name a few.

One morning there was a major buzz in the station because Yo Yo Ma was coming to do a set. At 10AM the general manager, who was a Los Angeles icon for her distinctive Brooklyn-accented pledge drive voice, burst into the room and announced rather dramatically, "YOU GUYS, STOP EVERYTHING, I HAVE NEWS."

The cabin pressure in the room changed as we braced ourselves to hear what terrible event has happened in the world as she continued as if in a dream-state, "The cello has arrived."

***

(Yo Yo followed the cello by about an hour.)

 

"That was my husband."

Yea, so this happened last week...

I was at a local dog park and this bulldog's owner kept throwing the ball for him to fetch and as he retrieved it he would come to me and lay the ball at my feet. Every time I would begin to bend down to pick it up the owner would make a rude 'no no' clicking sound with his tongue which told me not to touch it at which point he'd grab it and throw it again.

The dog just kept bringing it back to me. But I wasn't allowed to play. I think this annoyed the dog more than it actually annoyed me. Soon they were gone and I was left to ponder about how it really bothered me that I let this guy bully(dog) me.

The very next day I went back to the dog park and the same bulldog was playing fetch - only this time with a female. And again, the dog kept laying the ball at my feet. This time I was allowed to actually pick up the ball and play.

The woman said, "My dog seems to really like you."

I replied, "Yea, he really liked me yesterday too."

A puzzled look made a mess of her pretty face, "Yesterday?"

I said matter-of-factly, "He was with a male yesterday."

She tensed-up even more, "That was my husband."

I thought about telling her about his shenanigans but opted not to as she continued, "He told me he was at work all day yesterday."

I took a step backward as she thought out loud with a bite in her voice, "I wonder what else he's lying to me about..."

I jerked a corner of my mouth downwards and managed an awkward, "Whoops."

Clearly agitated she promptly leashed her dog and departed with a heavy foot. I felt bad for a couple of minutes but if I'm telling the truth - it actually felt good that I unwittingly exacted revenge on that big meanie.

Merry Christmas!!!

The Last Christmas Tree

Right around Thanksgiving 2003 my little sister Nancy became bed-ridden. Not by choice mind you - just one day she never got out of bed again. She had the will but her poor little body hadn't the strength anymore.

The weekend before Christmas '03 was my turn to go to Phoenix to keep her company. When I walked into her house I found it strange that it was completely devoid of anything Christmas-y. Nancy ran a successful daycare center out of her home and every year she turned her place into an awesome winter wonderland.

I asked, "How come you don't have your decorations up?"

Nancy replied, "He doesn't want to hassle with it."

He meaning her husband. They were in divorce discussions when she was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. Nancy was given 6 months to live but managed to fight for an extra 4 years. He was miserable and ready to move on with his life. And he could sense the finish line. But this isn't about him...

I am not much for Christmas but I took one look at her face and could see that she needed that tree set up so I said, "Fuck that. I'm getting that tree and its going right there." I pointed to the corner of her room so that she could enjoy it all day long.

I had no idea the undertaking I had assigned myself. You see, she didn't have uniform decorations for the tree. Every ornament was different and purchased with intent. And each had a story, "We got that one when we went to..." Or, "Grandma got Alec that one when he was born." And so on.

Alec is her son and he and I spent the rest of the day setting up that tree. Proudly. And with flair. Nancy was so happy as memories flowed from her like a fountain of precious liquid gold.

At one point Nancy said, "Don't worry about the angel for the top of the tree - it's too high. I don't want you to fall."

She had high ceilings and the tree was enormous but I was determined to get that angel atop that tree. After all, this was to be the last Christmas tree she would ever see. Yea, I almost broke my neck a few times but eventually I was successful.

She slept for a couple hours. When Nancy awoke she looked at the tree and with a shimmer in her eye she said softly, "Ah, my angel."

I looked at the tree and smiled broadly then she continued with a tear in her voice, "I was talking about you."

Santa Community

I live at the end of the 105 Metro line. Lately I've been riding.

A couple of weeks ago I boarded and encountered a white bearded driver.

I thought to myself: I wonder if he realizes he's driving a bus & not a sleigh?

I sure do enjoy my simple amusements.

The next day I rode with him again - this time a rider exited saying,

"See you tomorrow, Santa."

Huh? People actually call this guy Santa?

Maybe even more troubling was the jolly in his response, "Until then."

I found myself on his bus again a few days later and heard the following:

Rider: Hey, Santa. Are you working much this season?

Driver: Oh yes. This is my busy time of year.

Rider: Do you make a lot of money being Santa?

Driver: Yes. I can make about a third of my Metro salary in December alone.

Rider: Are you kidding me?

Driver: The pinnacle of the Santa career is the Macy's Parade, of course.

Rider: Really?

Driver: Yea, the Macy's Santa makes bank.

Rider: I had no idea.

Driver: Everybody in the Santa community dreams of getting that call!

Rider: Do you know this years Macy's Santa?

Driver: Nah, I'm pretty sure he's an east coast Santa.

It's at this point that I reached my destination.

***

A few nights later I ran into my tranny friend Ricky dressed as Santa.

Or rather, undressed as Santa.

And I wondered if Santa Ricky would be accepted in the Santa community.

You decide.

You can get a full-on view but I'm warning you - it's not for the faint hearted:

 

Coke Bottle Glasses, Part 11

Cosmic Hug or, Karmic Sentence

Last night I gazed upon the star-pocked sky in the hopes that he was too.

I asked the moon to deliver him some sort of cosmic hug.

Recently he and I shared a untimely moment of intimacy.

For most it might have been a life-altering and joyous occasion.

Not so for Chuck. Just another in a long line of evasive affairs.

What is this karmic sentence I serve? And must it really be for life?

Surely I can have it reduced owing for good behaviour?

Tonight I shall gaze upon the moon again and ask it to deliver this message:

"I want my treasured friend back. I miss you.

I did not ask for nor do I want this fuedless estrangement."

I realize I will place a lot of pressure upon the moon. But she is generous.

And I believe she is on my side. This time.

Hopefully.

Heart/Strings

I took this a few months ago at a park in Beverly Hills.

I finally got around to doing something with it.

It was part of a young girl's art project. I found it quite touching.

***

"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."

- Anne Frank

***

"When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain."

- Mark Twain

***

"Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know."

- William Shakespeare

***

"So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart,

I shall say that life is good."

- Helen Keller

***

"There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart."

- Jane Austen

***

"A loving heart is the truest wisdom."

- Charles Dickens

***

"The heart has no sharp edges so as to not sever its fragile strings."

- Chuck Keenum

James Garner: Dead or Alive?

At happy hour Scott and I made a bet as to whether James Garner was alive.

Neither of us was actually sure but I insisted he had died about a year ago.

Scott, being much closer to Garner's age, took the opposing position.

Scott gazed upward and tapped his chin a couple of times as he pondered,

"Mmm, what do I want to bet you that I don't care about?"

He reached over and patted our pal Roger on the back, "How about Roger!"

Thinking that I'd surely win the bet I bellowed, "I don't want him either!"

Roger threw his hands up - no, only one hand...

The other wasn't lettin' go of that drank - he cried out, "Hey, hey, hey."

Channeling my inner black chick I joked, "Don't neither one of us want you."

Roger lifted his Jack & Coke and shrugged, "I'll always have Mr. Daniels."

Just one of the enjoyable early evening laughs shared among good friends.

I lost. James Garner is alive. But he's really old. I'd win that bet in 2012.

I Met Jesus Yesterday

This guy's been wandering about West Hollywood as Jesus for some 5 years.

He primarily sticks to Sunset Blvd and the tour buses love him.

He will often strike a Jesus-y pose while the tourists snap pics in a frenzy.

You can literally hear them collectively think: Only in LA.

Well, yesterday as I was walking along Sunset I saw him approach.

He has perfected the Jesus glide - he actually looks like he's walking on water.

Anyway, without hesitation I asked, "Mind if I get a picture with you?"

I was only thinking of the cause it might stir when I posted it on Facebook.

He replied in a low saintly monotone, "Not at all, my child."

After the quick pic I realized that his birthday was 12 days away and said,

"Hey, let's not forget that 'Jesus is the reason for the season'."

Oh dear, I've taken to quoting Jesus bumperstickers to, well - Jesus.

He reached out his hand as if to bless me and said, "That's right, my child."

He then took a generous swig from his giant-sized Starbucks coffee...

Clearly satisfied he dropped the Jesus schtick as he cooed,

"Actually, this pumpkin spice latte is the 'reason for the season'."

***

Get it? Cuz the pumpkin spice latte is seasonal.

And Christmasly delicious.