M I S T E R Carson

I've got a friend whom I still keep in touch with from before I started kindergarten. Michael was a rather rambunctious kid, of which I knew even back in 5th grade. He was the one that taught me a slew of curse words. We parted ways during our high school years, but managed to keep in touch. Michael was also the one to introduce me to jazz, specifically the name John Coltrane.

I knew that Mike's father had an ardently mamouth collection of LP's, mostly jazz. He always told me that if I name any "real" jazz artist, he could play a song from his collection. Along with a wall full of books, there were the records. I didn't have an appreciation for them until I "grew up". Mike's father's challenge changed over the years from me naming someone that he would play, to him playing a song and me having to guess at the artist. When I was wrong, his resounding voice thundered, "TED TED TED... come on, you should know this!"

I also remember a time when I was over there place with the family and the new daughter in law mentioned that she really liked Kenny G. Everyone in the room got quiet. Mrs. Carson said that that name should never be uttered in the house, ever. I couldn't help but laugh, but I was the only one. There after, Mike's dad put on a record by John Coltrane. He said, now just listen...

One of my proudest moments came when my 6 year old daughter and I were in the car listening to the radio. She was in the back drawing as we drove... The familiar rhythm and succinct sounding sax came alive and my daughter without looking up said, "Hey, A Love Supreme..." A tear came to my eye.

Anyway, I present, M I S T E R Carson...