Autumnal equinox
Eternal paradox
Poised between light and dark.
Time to harvest the fruits
Of this year's labors
Into the root cellar of the soul
Storing experience against the unexpected.
The joys sustain us
Seeds of new ventures
Hidden in their juicy flesh.
The sorrows enlighten us
Exposing our frail humanity
To the grace of time's inexorable flow.
Shifting with the seasons
We all unbidden
Dance the circle
Of extremes
Seeking that one
Rare moment
Of equilibrium.

What Really Matters

I lost a friend and bandmate last Tuesday when Terry Peterson, the lead singer for The BluesBusters, passed away unexpectedly. At first, it was hard to believe it was true. Terry had a mischievous sense of humor. Surely this had to be another prank. I kept expecting him to turn up somewhere, saying aw guys, I was only kidding.

But bit by bit reality seeped in and I began to come to terms with the fact that we'll never play another gig together. I'll never get to hear that laugh or see those python boots scoot across the stage again. I'll never get to tease him about not carrying his own tambourine or forgetting the words to a song when an attractive girl in a skimpy outfit feels moved to dance in front of the band.

It's funny the things you remember about people. It's not the things society would consider important. It's little stuff. Human stuff. Like his total delight in pulling off a surprise birthday party for his sweetheart. His joy at the thought of a new grandchild. His volunteering to be "jailed" so he could raise money so sick kids could go to camp. His struggles with congas and cowbells. His ongoing debate about whether or not to grow a beard. His way of ending an outrageous story with "now that's funny, I don't care who you are." How he would break into a totally incongruous version of "What a Wonderful World" during a rehearsal and insist that we could work it into the setlist.

Sad as I feel at his loss, I have to smile, because whenever I picture Terry in my mind, he's smiling. He's smiling, and laughing, and engaging people with a compliment or a hug or some generous gesture, making them feel important and included. Because Terry's greatest gift wasn't singing or writing lyrics or telling jokes, it was caring about other people. And that's the quality we will all miss the most.