The day after my 16th birthday, I told three big lies that changed the course of my life.
It was 1992, and I worked at this giant musical instrument store just outside Chicago owned by two brothers and their father. I mostly carried boxes, tuned guitars and set up drums, and tried to act cool when girls or rockstars came in the store.
Girls and rockstars came in frequently. I succeeded in looking cool far less often.
I did what every kid with a cool mom in my neighborhood did the day after their 16th birthday: I walked into work brandishing my new driver's license as proof that I was now an adult, and emboldened with my newfound sense of independence, I quickly told three lies to my music-store bosses:
I lied and said:
“Of course I have car insurance.”
And: “I totally know my way around downtown.”
And: “I can absolutely drive a delivery truck.”
An hour later I was pulling up to the doors of 1010 W. Chicago Avenue — a massive old building that they told me was a weird “arts high school”.
My job was to deliver and haul up the stairs a truckload of equipment that Oprah Winfrey had just donated.
Walking in, I couldn’t believe that this was a high school. My school was surrounded by police cars and barbed wire (and it was never entirely clear if both were there to keep people out, or in.)
At this bizarre place, though, there was this amazing artwork everywhere. There was a jazz jam session happening right there in the lobby. Some kids were rehearsing Shakespeare in the stairwell. Every railing had a ballerina draped over it; every floor was a stage; Every wall seemed to be part of a gallery. They had even turned a hallway into a theatre.
The weirdest thing, though, was that everyone looked so… alive. It was already 4:00 in the afternoon, long past when my school got out, but these kids looked like they were just getting started. They greeted me — a total stranger — with this odd enthusiasm, as if they enjoyed being at school, and didn’t mind at all if a weirdo like me was hanging out.
I never left.
I immediately started leaving my own school early (or not going at all) and driving to this place instead. It never occurred to me to apply to officially attend. My dad worked at the stockyards, and I didn’t know anyone who went to a private school. I’m not entirely sure I even really knew what one was.
The woman who seemed to be in charge, Pamela Jordan, pretended to see something in me, and decided to put me to work as something of an intern, a “job” that lasted for the next several years.
I set up the sound system, made copies, and crawled around the attic, laying cable for the theatre’s new lighting system. I played in a bunch of shows, too: drums, mostly, for musicals that my own school would never do.
Sometimes, Pam had me sit in with the jazz band, and later I got to help set up a little recording studio and assist students with their projects. One day, when I was 19, she even let me sub for a class and I taught a mini lesson in the history of rock music.
Soon after, Pam sat me down and said, “what are you doing with your life?”
That was easy: I was going to be a rock star.
Pam had other ideas. “You’re a teacher,” she said. I felt movement in my soul. “You’re going to college, and you’re going to get your degree. And when you’re done, you’re going to come back here and teach in our school.”
That’s exactly what happened. I graduated from college on Friday, the 14th of August, 1998. Three days later I was in front of a classroom filled with that same gear I had delivered to that massive old building a few years prior.
At The Chicago Academy for the Arts, I’ve been an intern, a classroom teacher, a department head, the Assistant Head, and for the last decade or so, the Head of School. It’s the only place I’ve ever worked since I lied to my bosses at that music store 31 years ago yesterday. During that time, Pam has been my mentor, my coach, my confidante, my teacher, my family, and my friend. And when I got married a few months ago, Pam officiated.
I think of Pam every single day, because if I didn’t, I would never let someone who reminded me of me in our school. But those kids, they’re the ones who need me and my teachers the most.
I know that I can never pay Pam back for what she did for me, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life paying it forward.
It seems to me that you were pretty much telling the truth because you believed in yourself enough that you actually could do those things or at least very much wanted to! And you did! What an amazing story ❤️
It‘s midnight and i am laying here, trying to sleep. This story made me emotional. Thank you for sharing. I will tell your story to my nieces and nephews here in germany. Maybe it inspires them also.
What a wonderful story. A book I’d read, a movie, I’d watch! Just one thing I still wonder: what darn cool music you would have created as a Rock Star ;)
My gpa. Hero in WWI, survivor in WW II. Escaped the nazis, saved my mom. Came to the states and painted like a friggin madman. Gave me a painting every birthday until he died.
Nina Simone. She had more talent than anyone and she believed in herself when almost no one else did. She channeled her anger into beauty. She was funny and raw and gentle.
Dr. Jordan Peterson, for his candour, courage, and dedication to the truth. His greatest gift is helping us understand complexities all the while encouraging us to take part in restoring civilization / culture / political balance. "We all have a civic responsibility," he maintains. "If we ignore that, the tyrants have it."
I'd have to say Mike Rowe. He's probably the single most important champion of ground truth and the necessity for practitioners that we've ever seen. He's like the Norman Rockwell of work. He's the tonic to the Cold War mentality that Americans have to be geniuses, mad scientists, rock stars and superheroes. He's the guy who would tell you that you could grow up in a town like Hawthorne CA and never miss Beverly Hills and make a significant impact. He should be the Czar of community colleges.
Nick Cave. Nick Cave is a highly regarded singer and songwriter, and I admire his artistic output. But the reason he inspires me is the profound work that he has done on grief since the death of his son Arthur in 2015. My son Leo died by suicide in September 2022, and Nick Cave's work has helped me re-engage with the world following this most excruciating of losses. Following the death of his son, Cave began writing a weekly column called "The Red Hand Files." Here is the link to it: https://www.theredhandfiles.com/about/ People send their questions to Cave, and he responds in the most profound way about a variety of topics, including grief, art, purpose, death, faith, relationships, free speech, and all sorts of other contemporary issues. In addition, Cave published a book called "Faith, Hope, and Carnage" (2022)--a book of interviews between the journalist O'Hagan and Cave about a wide range of topics, including death and loss, music, Christianity, and Cave's history of addiction. Cave has offered a thoughtful perspective on the most important human issues in an honest and authentic way that inspires me.
So very sorry to hear of your pain and losing your son Leo. You're probably aware Nick Cave has lost 2 sons. The Red Hand Files is a testament to his bravery and humanness in the face of such tragedy. I'm sure the same applies to you. All the best to you, Jim
Pope John Paul II. He started an underground theater company in communist-occupied Poland, and wrote more on the beauty and responsibility of marital love than anyone else in the 20th Century.
Yo Yo Ma inspires me. In my former roll in the orchestra world, I got to meet Yo Yo several times. He always remembered my name and the name of my children Michael and Sarah. They met him a couple times. He would get down at their level (just like Mr. Rogers) and talk to them with such interest and caring. I have many first hand experiences of his behind the scenes kindest and how he loves up on his fellow musicians and the many fans. Here's one quick one:
After 9/11 occurred, his Silk Road Project had to return to the U.S and they were looking for a venue to perform. Thanks to a major foundation, he was able to come to Dallas. After the concert, he greeted people for over 2 hours. One was my daughter’s piano teacher from Azerbaijan. Yo Yo’s ensemble performed a piece from her homeland and when she thanked him backstage she started to weep with joy and the compassion exuding from Yo Yo. He held her as she cried in his arms. He loved her like they were dear friends.
I’ve seen many other instances of the depth of Yo Yo’s kindness. He’s real, he cares about people and he always inspires me.
Here's a video called: Nature at Play: J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 1. It features Yo Yo Ma in nature performing. If you don't trust the link, search for title on Youtube. Perfect for this morning and the chaos occurring. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx_IibJH4rA
Yo-Yo Ma will donate his earnings from this video to EarthPercent, a charity that helps artists and the music industry support the most impactful organizations currently addressing the global climate emergency.
Without hesitation, my dear mother. She directed the children’s choir in our Lutheran church, taught me how to play piano, was a Cub Scout Den mother, taught all five of us to sing together on Sunday afternoons, loved my father and the five of us with all of her heart…
Right now, it’s John Prine. I’ve been writing music my whole life. Melody and harmony is my game but I recently found myself having to write lyrics for the first time. The problem is, up til now, I never bothered listening to lyrics..
Since attempting to write them myself, a whole new area of musical appreciation has opened up to me. I feel like a teenager again experiencing music for the first time. I began with a fertile Randy Newman phase that birthed me 6 or 7 songs. There was something about the way he could be so poignant without being in any way pretentious through clever use of self-deprecation and humour.
Now I find myself obsessed with John Prine. This is the man that claims he uses a capo to hide the fact that all his songs are made up of the same three chords! I would have probably scoffed at his songs only a few years ago.
Having said that, just read the lyrics to ‘Hello in There’ or ‘Sam Stone’. You don’t even need the music to understand his genius. But that’s only one foot in the door. Discovering John Prine is the rabbit hole of all rabbit holes. You start with a handful of songs that blow you away. But the deeper you dig, the more gold you find.
Then you read about his backstory. How he wrote his now most legendary material in his head while doing his rounds as a mailman, racing home at the end of the day to jot down his ideas on whatever he could find first. In one instance it was the packaging for his wife’s pantyliner!
Then you hear about his entry into the music biz. How he stumbled across an open mic with one too many beers on him and let it be known that the contributors were.. let’s say sub-bar. “Well you get up then John!” By the end of the night he was offered a residency in the place!
The first time he met Bob Dylan was at a muso party in New York. A guitar was being handed around which found its way to John’s lap. As he started to sing he snuck a peak at Dylan only to find him mouthing the words to his song… His first album hadn’t even come out yet!
I haven’t even touched on his kind, gentle, carefree nature or his deep empathy that truly made him the unicorn of a man he was. I have so much more to say but so much more to do..
Today, and for many more to come, John Prine is and will continue to be my hero!
Definitely, our oldest son! He went from an overweight, narcissistic, punk kid to a special forces Marine who is highly regarded by his peers and command. During his transformation between 9th and 10th grade, he introduced us to a plethora of writers and thinkers (many of whom I had heard of before but never cared to study). He encouraged us to evaluate some unhelpful dogmas we clung to. I've read more books since 2020 than I've ever read in my 50+ years of life. His siblings have experienced an immense growth in their physical and mental fortitude. I have personally released 40lbs and have this new way of processing information that has been so liberating. There were many times his dad and I wanted to hang him for being disrespectful, self-centered, and all-around jerk. But those traits have matured. He has been a blessing to many.
I respect his efforts, but also your and your husband's support for his transformation, and your willingness to learn in return. What was he reading that made the difference?
He started with Peterson's "Twelve Rules for Life." From there it went to Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky, Frankl, Solzhenitsyn, Taleb, and on and on. While he was getting his degree in Arabic, he greatly expanded his literature base. He's probably the most well-read 22 year old on the planet at this point. ;) Probably not, but even so, he has inspired all of us to stop wasting time and read for the knowledge and the fun of it.
Frankl is astonishing. I read him 15 years ago, recovering from acute depression and a struggle from 20 years in war zones. I recently reordered a hardback copy - to keep to the end. I'd recommend Primo Levi, as a man who survived (though his death was tragic when it came) and I recently read The Hunters by James Salter, which is about being a man, not just about war. Tim O'Brien has a lot to say of relevance to anyone in USMC. And I have a lot of respect for JP's strict honesty. I wish you and your husband, and of course your boy, all the very best.
I feel awkward at making recommendations, but I also know a bit about being 22 and drawn to military matters; and anyway, there must be a balance between decent modesty and an urge to help. So I will risk it, and would also suggest this book, which is about war, but much else besides: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_I_Die_in_a_Combat_Zone,_Box_Me_Up_and_Ship_Me_Home
What a beautiful story Stacy. One of my first joys was sharing our 2 daughters growth and exposure through college and friends to a whole world of literature and thought that their mother and I thankfully allowed them to guide and lead us through. A real joy of fatherhood for me
His stint in "Hello, Dolly"on Broadway made me realize how underrated he'd always been. Shouldn't he have been as big a Broadway star as Alfred Drake or Richard Kiley? He had the leading-man looks, too.
I got to see Mr. Calloway in Washington DC, when he did some shows in the 80s. I'd always loved him, played his records on my radio show. He was absolutely fabulous, everything anyone might have hoped for and more, making a tiny stage feel limitless.
The list is long. But here are a few contenders: Neurologist Oliver Sacks - for his profound empathy, meticulous attention to detail, and curiosity about everything from the periodic table to Wagner to ferns. Ursula Le Guin - for dragon wisdom. Carnatic vocalist MS Subbulakshmi - for her extraordinary voice and incandescent being. Jacob Collier - for sharing his genius so unstintingly with audiences worldwide. My brother, for writing novels that he self-publishes in addition to being a full-time finance journalist. Young environmentalist Yuvan Aves - for his haunting book Intertidal: A Coast and Marsh Diary that makes me see my city (Chennai, India) with new eyes. Tori Amos - for singing and writing all these years. bell hooks - for teaching us to transgress and writing about love.
My grandfather. He was many things to many people: a father, a son, a brother, a grandfather, a veteran, an attorney, a mentor, a confidant, a parishioner, a gentleman, a scholar, a joker, a student, a Catholic, and more.
To me, he was—and is—the man I hope to one day become.
The day after my 16th birthday, I told three big lies that changed the course of my life.
It was 1992, and I worked at this giant musical instrument store just outside Chicago owned by two brothers and their father. I mostly carried boxes, tuned guitars and set up drums, and tried to act cool when girls or rockstars came in the store.
Girls and rockstars came in frequently. I succeeded in looking cool far less often.
I did what every kid with a cool mom in my neighborhood did the day after their 16th birthday: I walked into work brandishing my new driver's license as proof that I was now an adult, and emboldened with my newfound sense of independence, I quickly told three lies to my music-store bosses:
I lied and said:
“Of course I have car insurance.”
And: “I totally know my way around downtown.”
And: “I can absolutely drive a delivery truck.”
An hour later I was pulling up to the doors of 1010 W. Chicago Avenue — a massive old building that they told me was a weird “arts high school”.
My job was to deliver and haul up the stairs a truckload of equipment that Oprah Winfrey had just donated.
Walking in, I couldn’t believe that this was a high school. My school was surrounded by police cars and barbed wire (and it was never entirely clear if both were there to keep people out, or in.)
At this bizarre place, though, there was this amazing artwork everywhere. There was a jazz jam session happening right there in the lobby. Some kids were rehearsing Shakespeare in the stairwell. Every railing had a ballerina draped over it; every floor was a stage; Every wall seemed to be part of a gallery. They had even turned a hallway into a theatre.
The weirdest thing, though, was that everyone looked so… alive. It was already 4:00 in the afternoon, long past when my school got out, but these kids looked like they were just getting started. They greeted me — a total stranger — with this odd enthusiasm, as if they enjoyed being at school, and didn’t mind at all if a weirdo like me was hanging out.
I never left.
I immediately started leaving my own school early (or not going at all) and driving to this place instead. It never occurred to me to apply to officially attend. My dad worked at the stockyards, and I didn’t know anyone who went to a private school. I’m not entirely sure I even really knew what one was.
The woman who seemed to be in charge, Pamela Jordan, pretended to see something in me, and decided to put me to work as something of an intern, a “job” that lasted for the next several years.
I set up the sound system, made copies, and crawled around the attic, laying cable for the theatre’s new lighting system. I played in a bunch of shows, too: drums, mostly, for musicals that my own school would never do.
Sometimes, Pam had me sit in with the jazz band, and later I got to help set up a little recording studio and assist students with their projects. One day, when I was 19, she even let me sub for a class and I taught a mini lesson in the history of rock music.
Soon after, Pam sat me down and said, “what are you doing with your life?”
That was easy: I was going to be a rock star.
Pam had other ideas. “You’re a teacher,” she said. I felt movement in my soul. “You’re going to college, and you’re going to get your degree. And when you’re done, you’re going to come back here and teach in our school.”
That’s exactly what happened. I graduated from college on Friday, the 14th of August, 1998. Three days later I was in front of a classroom filled with that same gear I had delivered to that massive old building a few years prior.
At The Chicago Academy for the Arts, I’ve been an intern, a classroom teacher, a department head, the Assistant Head, and for the last decade or so, the Head of School. It’s the only place I’ve ever worked since I lied to my bosses at that music store 31 years ago yesterday. During that time, Pam has been my mentor, my coach, my confidante, my teacher, my family, and my friend. And when I got married a few months ago, Pam officiated.
I think of Pam every single day, because if I didn’t, I would never let someone who reminded me of me in our school. But those kids, they’re the ones who need me and my teachers the most.
I know that I can never pay Pam back for what she did for me, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life paying it forward.
Can I have your permission to share this story more widely? I found it very inspiring.
Thank you for your compliment! It would mean a lot to me if you did share it. May a make a small tweak before you do?
Email me the finished version (tedgioia@hotmail.com).
Jason, you win the Internet today. Excellent life experience and great story. Thank you.
What a fantastic story Jason, now that’s a TV show I could watch! Bravo!
Well written!
That's so fabulous,a lovely and TRUE story. Proves what I was told,the big secret,you don't need to ask permission. What a happy story is yours.
What a beautiful, easy, clever, and palatable air your writing here encompasses.
This is such a wonderful story, Jason.
It seems to me that you were pretty much telling the truth because you believed in yourself enough that you actually could do those things or at least very much wanted to! And you did! What an amazing story ❤️
Was that music store Flynn Guitars?
It‘s midnight and i am laying here, trying to sleep. This story made me emotional. Thank you for sharing. I will tell your story to my nieces and nephews here in germany. Maybe it inspires them also.
🎸How delightful 🎸
What a wonderful story. A book I’d read, a movie, I’d watch! Just one thing I still wonder: what darn cool music you would have created as a Rock Star ;)
The story made me cry… happy tears. And if you think of it, what is a brilliant teacher? He or she is nothing less but a rock star!
A very inspirational story.
What a wonderful story, thank you for sharing!
My gpa. Hero in WWI, survivor in WW II. Escaped the nazis, saved my mom. Came to the states and painted like a friggin madman. Gave me a painting every birthday until he died.
Nina Simone. She had more talent than anyone and she believed in herself when almost no one else did. She channeled her anger into beauty. She was funny and raw and gentle.
Saw her perform 4 times. Amazing.
Jealous!
great call!
Dr. Jordan Peterson, for his candour, courage, and dedication to the truth. His greatest gift is helping us understand complexities all the while encouraging us to take part in restoring civilization / culture / political balance. "We all have a civic responsibility," he maintains. "If we ignore that, the tyrants have it."
Yet truth, understanding, balance and common sense has many detractors… sad
It IS sad
I'd have to say Mike Rowe. He's probably the single most important champion of ground truth and the necessity for practitioners that we've ever seen. He's like the Norman Rockwell of work. He's the tonic to the Cold War mentality that Americans have to be geniuses, mad scientists, rock stars and superheroes. He's the guy who would tell you that you could grow up in a town like Hawthorne CA and never miss Beverly Hills and make a significant impact. He should be the Czar of community colleges.
Let's hear it for the skilled trades!
Nick Cave. Nick Cave is a highly regarded singer and songwriter, and I admire his artistic output. But the reason he inspires me is the profound work that he has done on grief since the death of his son Arthur in 2015. My son Leo died by suicide in September 2022, and Nick Cave's work has helped me re-engage with the world following this most excruciating of losses. Following the death of his son, Cave began writing a weekly column called "The Red Hand Files." Here is the link to it: https://www.theredhandfiles.com/about/ People send their questions to Cave, and he responds in the most profound way about a variety of topics, including grief, art, purpose, death, faith, relationships, free speech, and all sorts of other contemporary issues. In addition, Cave published a book called "Faith, Hope, and Carnage" (2022)--a book of interviews between the journalist O'Hagan and Cave about a wide range of topics, including death and loss, music, Christianity, and Cave's history of addiction. Cave has offered a thoughtful perspective on the most important human issues in an honest and authentic way that inspires me.
Hi Rebecca,
So very sorry to hear of your pain and losing your son Leo. You're probably aware Nick Cave has lost 2 sons. The Red Hand Files is a testament to his bravery and humanness in the face of such tragedy. I'm sure the same applies to you. All the best to you, Jim
Thank you for that link!!’n
Pope John Paul II. He started an underground theater company in communist-occupied Poland, and wrote more on the beauty and responsibility of marital love than anyone else in the 20th Century.
Novak Djokovic. The greatest of all time, on and off the court. Indomitable spirit.
Yo Yo Ma inspires me. In my former roll in the orchestra world, I got to meet Yo Yo several times. He always remembered my name and the name of my children Michael and Sarah. They met him a couple times. He would get down at their level (just like Mr. Rogers) and talk to them with such interest and caring. I have many first hand experiences of his behind the scenes kindest and how he loves up on his fellow musicians and the many fans. Here's one quick one:
After 9/11 occurred, his Silk Road Project had to return to the U.S and they were looking for a venue to perform. Thanks to a major foundation, he was able to come to Dallas. After the concert, he greeted people for over 2 hours. One was my daughter’s piano teacher from Azerbaijan. Yo Yo’s ensemble performed a piece from her homeland and when she thanked him backstage she started to weep with joy and the compassion exuding from Yo Yo. He held her as she cried in his arms. He loved her like they were dear friends.
I’ve seen many other instances of the depth of Yo Yo’s kindness. He’s real, he cares about people and he always inspires me.
Thanks David, great story
Here's a video called: Nature at Play: J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 1. It features Yo Yo Ma in nature performing. If you don't trust the link, search for title on Youtube. Perfect for this morning and the chaos occurring. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx_IibJH4rA
Yo-Yo Ma will donate his earnings from this video to EarthPercent, a charity that helps artists and the music industry support the most impactful organizations currently addressing the global climate emergency.
Without hesitation, my dear mother. She directed the children’s choir in our Lutheran church, taught me how to play piano, was a Cub Scout Den mother, taught all five of us to sing together on Sunday afternoons, loved my father and the five of us with all of her heart…
Right now, it’s John Prine. I’ve been writing music my whole life. Melody and harmony is my game but I recently found myself having to write lyrics for the first time. The problem is, up til now, I never bothered listening to lyrics..
Since attempting to write them myself, a whole new area of musical appreciation has opened up to me. I feel like a teenager again experiencing music for the first time. I began with a fertile Randy Newman phase that birthed me 6 or 7 songs. There was something about the way he could be so poignant without being in any way pretentious through clever use of self-deprecation and humour.
Now I find myself obsessed with John Prine. This is the man that claims he uses a capo to hide the fact that all his songs are made up of the same three chords! I would have probably scoffed at his songs only a few years ago.
Having said that, just read the lyrics to ‘Hello in There’ or ‘Sam Stone’. You don’t even need the music to understand his genius. But that’s only one foot in the door. Discovering John Prine is the rabbit hole of all rabbit holes. You start with a handful of songs that blow you away. But the deeper you dig, the more gold you find.
Then you read about his backstory. How he wrote his now most legendary material in his head while doing his rounds as a mailman, racing home at the end of the day to jot down his ideas on whatever he could find first. In one instance it was the packaging for his wife’s pantyliner!
Then you hear about his entry into the music biz. How he stumbled across an open mic with one too many beers on him and let it be known that the contributors were.. let’s say sub-bar. “Well you get up then John!” By the end of the night he was offered a residency in the place!
The first time he met Bob Dylan was at a muso party in New York. A guitar was being handed around which found its way to John’s lap. As he started to sing he snuck a peak at Dylan only to find him mouthing the words to his song… His first album hadn’t even come out yet!
I haven’t even touched on his kind, gentle, carefree nature or his deep empathy that truly made him the unicorn of a man he was. I have so much more to say but so much more to do..
Today, and for many more to come, John Prine is and will continue to be my hero!
I got to see him come up on stage with Steve Goodman (the guy I cited), and they did a medley of Hank Williams songs.
A great, great man.
Wow, what an experience that must have been. Sadly I only discovered him after his death.
Definitely, our oldest son! He went from an overweight, narcissistic, punk kid to a special forces Marine who is highly regarded by his peers and command. During his transformation between 9th and 10th grade, he introduced us to a plethora of writers and thinkers (many of whom I had heard of before but never cared to study). He encouraged us to evaluate some unhelpful dogmas we clung to. I've read more books since 2020 than I've ever read in my 50+ years of life. His siblings have experienced an immense growth in their physical and mental fortitude. I have personally released 40lbs and have this new way of processing information that has been so liberating. There were many times his dad and I wanted to hang him for being disrespectful, self-centered, and all-around jerk. But those traits have matured. He has been a blessing to many.
I respect his efforts, but also your and your husband's support for his transformation, and your willingness to learn in return. What was he reading that made the difference?
He started with Peterson's "Twelve Rules for Life." From there it went to Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky, Frankl, Solzhenitsyn, Taleb, and on and on. While he was getting his degree in Arabic, he greatly expanded his literature base. He's probably the most well-read 22 year old on the planet at this point. ;) Probably not, but even so, he has inspired all of us to stop wasting time and read for the knowledge and the fun of it.
Frankl is astonishing. I read him 15 years ago, recovering from acute depression and a struggle from 20 years in war zones. I recently reordered a hardback copy - to keep to the end. I'd recommend Primo Levi, as a man who survived (though his death was tragic when it came) and I recently read The Hunters by James Salter, which is about being a man, not just about war. Tim O'Brien has a lot to say of relevance to anyone in USMC. And I have a lot of respect for JP's strict honesty. I wish you and your husband, and of course your boy, all the very best.
Thank you, and thank you for the suggestions. We love adding new material to read and discuss.
I feel awkward at making recommendations, but I also know a bit about being 22 and drawn to military matters; and anyway, there must be a balance between decent modesty and an urge to help. So I will risk it, and would also suggest this book, which is about war, but much else besides: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_I_Die_in_a_Combat_Zone,_Box_Me_Up_and_Ship_Me_Home
What a beautiful story Stacy. One of my first joys was sharing our 2 daughters growth and exposure through college and friends to a whole world of literature and thought that their mother and I thankfully allowed them to guide and lead us through. A real joy of fatherhood for me
Cab Calloway. Great music, great entertainer, totally original. Right around the year 1930, he could do no wrong; everything he did was superlative.
His stint in "Hello, Dolly"on Broadway made me realize how underrated he'd always been. Shouldn't he have been as big a Broadway star as Alfred Drake or Richard Kiley? He had the leading-man looks, too.
I got to see Mr. Calloway in Washington DC, when he did some shows in the 80s. I'd always loved him, played his records on my radio show. He was absolutely fabulous, everything anyone might have hoped for and more, making a tiny stage feel limitless.
John Coltrane
I've always liked Coltrane, but as I am learning to play the saxophone it is only now that I'm beginning to appreciate his genius.
The list is long. But here are a few contenders: Neurologist Oliver Sacks - for his profound empathy, meticulous attention to detail, and curiosity about everything from the periodic table to Wagner to ferns. Ursula Le Guin - for dragon wisdom. Carnatic vocalist MS Subbulakshmi - for her extraordinary voice and incandescent being. Jacob Collier - for sharing his genius so unstintingly with audiences worldwide. My brother, for writing novels that he self-publishes in addition to being a full-time finance journalist. Young environmentalist Yuvan Aves - for his haunting book Intertidal: A Coast and Marsh Diary that makes me see my city (Chennai, India) with new eyes. Tori Amos - for singing and writing all these years. bell hooks - for teaching us to transgress and writing about love.
My grandfather. He was many things to many people: a father, a son, a brother, a grandfather, a veteran, an attorney, a mentor, a confidant, a parishioner, a gentleman, a scholar, a joker, a student, a Catholic, and more.
To me, he was—and is—the man I hope to one day become.
The eulogy I wrote and delivered for him at his funeral: https://www.whitenoise.email/p/pop-eulogy
Beautiful, thank you for sharing
Thank you so much!