Oh, how time has changed. Has it really been two months since I wrote you? And what do I have to show for it, other than a couple more pounds? Not much…some more culling of useless house filler, thousands of e-mails written, hundreds of walks taken and zoom gatherings, and the lofty achievement of getting 7-8 hours of sleep rather than my 50 year pattern of 5-6 hours. Are you impressed? Where’s the new album you ask? The auto-biography? Frankly, sorry to say, I figure I still have time.

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I am so easy - utterly and cheaply charmed by twinkly lights. So though the beginning of December predictably marks the start of my whiney attempts to weasel out of having a tree, and testing my daughter to see if she’s ready for me to forego the ritual …. Alas, she is not, and I surrender.

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My father was a Lt. Col. in the US Army Air Corp in WWII. According to my sister, who recently discovered the photo above, he was made an officer upon enlisting because of his high IQ. (Trust me - it skipped a generation!). He was stationed in India & China, planning strategy behind the front lines. He’s the one everyone is listening to in the photo. My mother always said “he was a great communicator”.

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All my solo shows since March have been from my basement studio sitting at my grandfather’s Steinway so it will be very fun to have a little more elbow room and have live smiling humans in front of me. And actual applause! The truth is, it’s not about needing the sound of applause, its the completion of the circle that I miss.

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In our new world, I will confess I rather miss the early days in March and April when everything stopped. I’ve heard others say the same. There was a sweetness and choiceless-ness about it that has since worn off as we hover in limbo.

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It seems our main sport these days is to continually discuss, read about, and endlessly analyze what’s going on in our Crazy Town world. My inclination is always to bring it down to the most basic level of human nature.

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