Blues, Gospel and All That Jazz

This weekend, February 7^th the Akron Symphony and a chorus of more than 200 gifted amateurs will fill the rafters at EJ Thomas with beautiful music. The rafters and beyond; the very heavens will open up to listen. It's the 16^th annual Gospel Meets Symphony, or GMS as the patrons, mothers and fathers of the event call it. Let's be plain, a lot of this is about being the sons and daughters, however many generations removed, of slaves. Not just being black, or African American if you prefer, but of being the survivors of a bitter tradition where song and style were critical for making it through the night.

This week I was reminded in clear tones and soaring spirits that this music means something. Two funerals of a grandfather and a great grandmother celebrated in small, neighborhood churches reminded me of the pitted and dangerous road held together by this music. The first funeral was a simple affair attended by close family. The old lady's man was in his 90's and had suffered from Alzheimer's disease for a number of years. But the family he left behind was filled with young people who grew up in the shadow of his pain. The music came not only in the song of a powerful soloist, but in the building cadence of the preacher: preacher, preach on!

That was Saturday. Thursday was a different story. Mother Wells was a quiet woman who attracted people like a magnet. She died young, too. And when her time came her church – her three churches – rose up in song. Three pastors and a deacon set the stage for the main event: Mother Wells' pastor and spiritual guide waited patiently through the tributes and songs, the prayer and the other small, but no less moving sermons. He waited as the others scaled back their song, just a little. But the call and response, the unity through the spirit and century's old foundation help firm, even as the old church shook. My friend Art was seated next to me. He had not really been to a Baptist Service like this one. And when the pastor ramped up, there was gospel in every soul, every breath and every Amen – "can I get a witness up in here?"

Many of us take this flight every week, sometimes twice and three times. But you can get the same elation, the same sense of history, faith and rigid determination that led our American family from second-class citizens to the very seat of power. This Saturday the journey becomes clearer, and available to all. I hope you can spend a few hours Saturday night to visit America. It's so much nicer without having to say goodbye.

Everything I know I learned in The Godfather III

For some reason I was looking for mission statements for 2009. It's not a bad practice, although a little late. Mission statements can be almost anything. My friend Sue and I were remembering some of the Radio geniuses that sat us all down in conference rooms in hotels and made us capsulize our lives in seven words or fewer. It was meant to focus our efforts and energy; being single-minded is good, sometimes.

Personal missions are a little different. Today those same consultants, life coaches and motivational speakers would talk about Me.com, the brand that happens when you get up in the morning and keeps on ticking until you close your eyes at night. In some respects the personal statement has gone from a blog to a twitter, seven words to one, never mind the vowels.

Still, the pointed prose of literature and rock songs seems to guide me more than the tweet de jour. I do enjoy the precious words of wisdom coming over my iPhone from my active Facebook and Twitter friends. But the real life lessons aren't truly tested until Al Pacino, Roy Scheider, Jagger, Jim Morrison or The Beatles have placed them in proper context.

One of the early ones that might be responsible for saving my life is the poignant line from Honky-Tonk Women: "Just can't seem to drink her off my mind." I actually said that to Monika very early in our relationship. It was very true, too. She made that kind of impression. Eventually I gave up and we got married almost 31 years ago. And being more than 23 years away from my last drink seems to render that motto moot. Later Roy Scheider made the brilliant observation in Jaws II: "I know what a shark looks like. I've seen one up close and I'm not going through that hell again!" This one is especially useful. How many of us have walked right into the same traps over and over again, even though we should have learned long ago what a shark looks like up close.

The Godfather III was one of those movies that made a far better book, even with the predicate of arguably the two best movies ever made. In it were great lines that somehow got lost in, well, in something. We all know the memorable: "Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in!" But another lesser known utterance really makes me think: "Power wears out those who don't have it." Wow, and it wasn't even Michael Corleone who said it. What Michael did say that keeps me going is: "Never hate your enemies, it affects your judgment." And, "When I'm dead I'm gonna be really smart." I just wish I had read the book before seeing the movie.

As far as that mission statement goes, I never really found one except for this: always reaching beyond my grasp. It's not original, but works for me.