Digression - What week is this?

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago when I was in a bit of a funk.  As Buddy always said, "I'm feeling much better now."  ...but thought I'd share it anyway.  

A little thing on my mind.

The easy way out for me would be to go back home.  Back home to familiar faces, friends and family.  Back to easy gigs that I know I could do in my sleep.  Back to my home, a regular bed, back to jazz, funk and ska.  That'd be the easy way.

It is tempting.

It is lonely here sometimes.  And it's hard.  It's hard to speak Welsh, and it's really hard to learn all these new tunes and it's hard to practice the harp so intensely.  There's people back home that I really miss...

But, I'm not about to give up the ghost.

I remember my trombone teacher Bob Stroup.  Bob was an incredible musician.  He worked so hard.  Everyday, he practiced and practiced and he gigged constantly.  But most importantly, when he knew he was dying, he didn't quit.  He played music right to the end.  That's how I want to go out.

I remember Danny Michael.  Young Danny was a troubled soul but one of the bravest musicians.  I have lots of funny stories about Danny, which I hope I have time to someday tell.  His big dream had always been to travel to Japan and create music with Japanese poets.  And that's just what he did.  He died while over there.  Fulfilling his dream...

Who would choose otherwise?


Life is short and hard.  So why not follow your hopes?  There are, after all, no rules.

So, here's to the hard way.  For as long as I can take it...


I keep thinking of this book "My Name is Asher Lev" by Chaim Potok.  He perfectly describes the very feelings I have while creating art and the very feelings the consequence of that creation bring.

My name is Asher Lev.

Hwyl.