DEATH COMES to OUR HOUSE

Producer Bill thinks that I lost my sense of humor. I sent him the current crop of eleven songs that I've been out doing for the past year or so. I was afraid that some of the songs might have been too lightweight. There was a time when in the relistening and reworking of "Tossin' It Away'" (my pervious album) I thought that it was too depressing.

Bill says that there is more to life than depression. He cited a bit of fist shaking in "Solidarity" and " I Ain't Goin' Away". He says that he is worried about me. I have to confess that I didn't see this coming. Maybe he is right.

I've been approaching life as if it were the first half of the "Deerhunter" , innocence on the precipice, like Bill Cosby used to say about Las Vegas: when you think that things can't get any worse, here comes worse around the corner. Eight years of the "W" funk. Thousands dead in an unnecessary war. I just heard an old gang-banger complain about the senseless violence in Mumbai. Friends have been foreclosed upon and repossessed and living on the streets. Just about an hour ago I passed my homeless friends who camp out under the I 90-94 viaduct and a city crew was rousting them out. Amazing that a cash strapped city can find the funds to roust some guy sleeping on a piece of cardboard under an expressway in 16 degree temperatures. You really see the need for them to raise our downtown parking meters to $6 an hour.

Of course, I can just let my eyes glaze over and get caught up in Obamarama. I sure hope that all these dreams come true, but I've been around the block before. I'll believe change when I see it. I do love the glimmer of hope, but folks can't eat this hope yet and I don't see it putting a roof over some folks heads. Tomorrow is always a wonderful place, but it just cushions what is happening now.

So maybe, I have lost my sense of humor, but I haven't lost my belief that you and I together can make it through.

Our mom passed away on 11/20. She died at home. Had a shot of Bailey's the night before and went to sleep. A beautiful way to pass from this earth.

To our surprise, she had cashed in every insurance policy. We knew that she had run through her retirement annuity. She had paid for the opening of my dad's grave and the internment of her ashes. She paid about $600 for this, if she hadn't it would've cost us double. Naively, I thought that the funeral home would have some sort of payment arrangement, but we were informed that they were a business and it was strictly cash only. We could sign over an insurance policy, but that was the extent of that. We had to sit down with my two sons and figure out how to get mom taken care of properly.

It cost us $250 for the funeral home to pick up and store the body. We had to shop for a cheap cremation. She didn't want to be embalmed. She didn't want a visitation/showing. She wasn't on public aid. She paid her rent with her social security. We bought her food and took care of whatever else she needed, so we received no assistance. One guy offered to cremate her for $500 if we allowed her body to be used for medical training for a month. Finally found a guy that would do it for $800. We sat around counting our pennies and trying to come up with it.

My wife's brother bailed us out with $2000. We all sat around feeling like total losers. My wife is beholden to student loans that didn't yield the increase in income she had hoped for. Son #1 is going through a contentious divorce. Son #2 just got back to work after a hiatus. And of course, I'm a broke down folk singer without a sense of humor that still finds rewards in playing two hours for the proceeds of a passed hat. Who says that I don't have that hope? We paid for the transportation and the cremation. There was another $400 for a burial urn.

And then there was mom's final wish. The funeral home offered us a memorial service for $1700. We could sit and look at an empty rented urn for four hours. There was a need to celebrate the life and provide a place for old friends to gather, remember and say good-bye. Mom wanted a party. A somber funeral home didn't suit her. I never felt good about being in one and there were better things to do with $1700.

I know that some wished that it would have been more staid and respectful, but then maybe they didn't know mom all that well. I could just hear her saying "screw these guys and their $1700". So we talked to our friends, the Lawless family at the Irish Oak, opened the bar and played her favorite "Celebration" on the boom box. The Sweet Adelines (her barbershop group) sang, Rev. Hamilton said a few words and I let mom sing to us through a tape that she left us. We put a bottle on the bar and encouraged everyone to have a drink with Dolores. It was the greatest funeral that I've ever been to. I do imagine that somewhere, someone is criticizing us, but I know mom would've been happy and that is all that counts.

So the life is getting back to normal, albeit with a hole in it. I haven't had much time for my own grief. It was everybody else's tears that I tried to dry and everyone else to console. I am a little numb from it all. Sleeping all night without having to get up and lead mom to the bathroom or turn her. Maybe the sense of humor will come back in time.

I've been doodling around some songs like "Bill Says I Don't Have A Sense of Humor". Thinking about the hospice nurse telling me about terminal patients disengaging from life and looking at old pictures of my parents. The corner where they lived is supporting the third structure that I remember in my lifetime. Maybe sometimes life disengages from you as well. People living there now will remember the luxury condo while I remember Sonny with his clubfoot fixing tires at the old Standard Oil station with two pumps and the lighted crowns on top of them.

Life goes on. Apologize if I depress you, didn't mean for that to happen. God's stars are still shining tonight. That's a constant - so far.