Monday, October 06, 2008

Mr. Jazz

Tonight’s entry title is from “Jelly’s Last Jam”.

Nothing clears my head like a walk. I put my shoes on, slip into my coat, look down at my feet and ponder life’s mysteries as I choose a random path. Most often I end up walking on Main Street, where the present goings-on overlap with my memories of yesteryears. As I walk past the First United Methodist Church, I am thirteen, helping the youth pastor sweep out a bat infestation. As I walk past the hair salon that used to be a music store, I am seventeen and old Nicky, who owned the place, is selling me Sondheim CDs for cheap. And as I walk past the empty storefront that was the Sego Café, I can still hear the energetic blasts of a saxophone.

Thanks, Al.

Al Gallodoro was one of the select few people that set Oneonta apart from any other small town in the United States. After a long, long career playing more instruments than most folks could, Al settled down in Oneonta, where he continued to give live performances; he claimed that he’d play until he died, and that remark wasn’t far off: he last played in late September.  Some of us were lucky enough to see Al perform at then-President Miller’s retirement party.
Hartwick recognized his excellence in music with a honorary degree.

I invite you all to walk past the old Sego. If you’re lucky, you might still hear some notes.

Later days,
Nico