DETROIT, MI —Good morning. Several years ago, I was driving to work at the cafeteria workers’ union. On the radio, I heard music that was so beautiful I had to pull over. When the song ended, there was an interview with the musician, Charles Lloyd. He told the story of how he was touring in Ireland and was invited by local fans to listen to musicians playing Irish music in a small town by the sea. He could not describe the instrument that sounded like a human voice. He urged the musicos to share it with him, but they were very protective of their traditional musical instruments. In the morning, he found the instrument outside his door of the place he was staying.
At lunchtime that day, I went to the music store in Southfield. I think it was Street Corner? Something like that. I asked about it and they immediately provided the new CD by Charles Lloyd.
Today, sorting out Jesse’s CDs, I came across this same CD. He had burned it from an original. I am learning that music heals in ways I had not paid attention to in before times. Listening to the pauses, the spontaneous sounds of instruments joining in so perfectly—the harmony of each contribution—searching out liner notes to see who that was and where it was recorded, what label, all of it, a world unto itself, free of petty conflicts—just music. And I am grateful.
