December 10, 2020

JOURNAL 201210 – There is no getting back to normal. At a certain point, you just have to carry on in “new normal” mode. This has been a devastating two years, and particularly a very difficult two months. And to think, it all started with a massive stroke.

Yes, I thought that the stroke was going to be THE devastating detour on the road to hell. I fought hard to get back to normal. I recovered fully from the stroke and returned to life as I knew it. All of that happened during the summer of 2018.

And then we lost Doug. Nothing would ever be the same again. I still miss his daily phone calls. I miss the camaraderie. I miss our band. Without him, we realized that we could never get back what we had. There is no normal for me without my band. Without Doug.

In this new normal mode, I lumbered on alone. To be honest, I never felt alone. The guys were still there. Our friendships, our family was still there. My beautiful wife and all of our kids and grandkids fill me with joy. And our friends and fans could not have been more supportive. All of my musical pals surrounded me with love and support. And I kept performing and recording... until COVID.

Are you kidding me? A freaking pandemic, the likes of which the world hasn’t seen in over a hundred years.

I haven’t performed live in almost a year. And it’s going to be longer. Sheesh.

Oh, and then I smashed my finger.

I plan on playing again. I’ll get my chops back. But, the grief and sadness continue to pour in on me and my family. In the last month, we lost our dear friend Dr. Steve Zdep. Followed by my colleague and friend Dr. Jerry Exline. Jerry and I were recording an album together. When I get my finger back, I promise to complete that record.

Joan Masucci was unique. A woman who was more best friend than a mere mother-in-law. We had laughs. Lots of them. She was the matriarch who enjoyed the role but could easily be self-deprecating. Losing her, suddenly right before Thanksgiving, rocked our little clan. She deserved a giant celebration of life. Thanks to COVID, it was a small, family-only service at the funeral home. We must have a party in her honor when we get back to the new normal.

Mark Gibson, my friend, my fellow musician, my daughter-in-law’s father. This one is going to hurt for a long time. His legacy as a bluesman is assured. Sadly, many will footnote his passing with an admonition. His passion to play was real. So much so, that he ignored the warnings and played that “last gig” in a tiny bar with his buddies. Guys my age. All of whom caught the virus. Mark died from COVID pneumonia.

Stay safe, my dear friends.