Hello, good morning, and welcome to the
Saturday Morning News Post!
Sorry this post is a bit late, I flew from Montreal to Vancouver a few days ago and not just in the nick of time. The day I left, Montreal had its first snow storm of the season, and to my friends who live in Montreal and said it was a “little snow storm,” I said “You’re out of your goddamn minds!” A snow storm is a snow storm, when you get over a half foot of snow in a few hours and it’s blowing up, down, and sideways at the same time, well, that’s mother nature trying to tell you something,… Get out! Pack your shit and take your delicate sensibilities elsewhere!
And so I listened, but as usual, a certain contemporary Canadian jazz clarinetist left his packing to the last minute (fyi: last minute packing often leads to packing 2/3 of your closet and 1/3 of what you actually need). Only this time I also left apartment cleaning to the last minute and my piece de resistance, as I was about to leave the apartment for the airport, I remembered I had numerous CDs and large books to return to the school library.
Now let me explain, the first snowfall of Winter is a special, almost magical moment for Quebecers. You’ll see children playing merrily in the snow and folks sweeping off their front steps with content, saying Bonjour! to passers by. They know Winter, they know how to deal with it, but more than that, they know how to embrace it, nay, even enjoy it.
And then there’s me…
Bundled up with numerous layers including a wool cardigan and a down ski jacket, frantically running 12 blocks through a snow storm to the subway station, cradling a clarinet case under one arm, carrying the weight of 2 heavy suitcases (Oh, those little wheels? They don’t work so well in the snow.) and the possibly heavier weight of personal regret due to my own idiocy for leaving all travel preparations to the last minute,… again.
Of course the fun part, once at the station, heart near ready to explode, is taking the escalator down into the ridiculously over-heated Montreal subway. It feels like something out of Indiana Jones And The Temple of Doom, slowly descending into a fiery hell, heart pounding (admittedly, in my own body), sweating profusely through winter layers which, greatly appreciated only a minute earlier, now feel like they’ve turned against you.
In the end, the library materials were returned, I had to spend an extra $30 to take a taxi instead of the bus to the airport and here I am on the West Coast. Lesson learned?… probably not.
Since getting back into town I’ve had a couple of little gigs, one included pulling the tenor sax out of the closet to record some Christmas tune backing tracks for a vocalist in town. (Ah saxophone, just like riding a bike,… so forgiving.) Besides that, I’ve also been visited by a couple of friends who were insistent on giving my liver what for, and have been working away on a Christmas related list of chores for the Danderfer household. ‘Tis the season to be
folly, tired, merry!
And now, I’ve still got lots of work to do on the CBC commission for the Jelly Roll Morton tribute show/recording, a paper to write for Jazz Pedagogy class, more work to do on the electroacoustic project, AND a comprehensive 2-year financial plan, which I will tell you all about next Saturday. I know, I’m excited too!
Until then, have a great week and enjoy the winter weather!