“What is a friend? More than a father, more than a brother, a traveling companion; with him, you can achieve what seemed impossible, even if you must lose it later. Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession; friendship is never anything but sharing.” -Elie Wiesel, Nobel Peace Prize winner, from The Gates of the Forest
I keep coming here to type, and then I feel too overwhelmed. I think the things I’m going through right now are not best suited to a public blog: I find myself censoring all the hard, ugly, sad stuff and trying to put a positive spin on it.
Then, there’s the task of trying to do Joe justice by giving him a tribute here on my blog that is worthy of the man that he was. I fall short. I cry when I type. I’ve reflected, counted, and measured the weight of his life, our friendship, his impact, I am astounded at it’s value. Going to Illinois was good for that: being submersed in memories. Very few people in my life have been so consistent, so true, so wonderfully funny and affectionate, so profound in their living, so joyful and inclusive, and I’m toppled by how much I took his always being there for granted.
He would call when he was in town. I’d drop everything and we’d have so much fun together, sharing old memories, delving into philosophical matters, cooking, exploring Seattle, adventuring, teasing each other, telling jokes and stories. Back when we were both single and he was out here all the time for his Alaskan fishing ship trips we spent a great deal of time together. We kept up with each others’ world travels via email and dreamed of going to Brazil together.
As we got older he stopped the fishing and we each got into other relationships. Our times together were less frequent. Yet, whenever we did see each other, we found ourselves overflowing with laughter, happiness, and able to appreciate the beauty of our lives and our friendship even more.
This last summer he made a brief and intense trip out here to Washington and I was thrilled to hear his voice on my answering machine: “Graaaaaace! I’m coming into town and I have to see you!”
I was so surprised to realize that it’d been around 3 years since we’d seen each other. We had a barbeque, played bocce ball, sat around the campfire and shared stories and songs. He got to meet my children for the first time. I got to meet his wonderful fiance.
The last time we spoke was a few nights later. They had a bit of spare time and there was so much more catching up we still had left to do. But, Pat was at work, I was home alone with the boys and without a babysitter, so I told him we’d just have to wait till the next time he was in town. And said good bye.
And, in Illinois, I said good bye to him again. Only, this time, it was to a mannequin in a coffin.
Joe, I finally came out to Chicago like you always wanted. I saw the city, I cried with your family, I met some of your friends. I stood on the beach of Lake Michigan and stared out at that tiny ocean. I found myself looking for you in unfamiliar faces. Hearing you in the laughs of your brothers. I stared at that vast, silent, Illinois sky: alone. You were always out there, somewhere. My life is better for having had you in it, and I thank you for that. Your brother Jason says that every day we are going to cry a little bit less, laugh a little bit more. I hope so. I’ll miss you, Joe Kudabeck, and I love you. Thank you for being such a true friend.
Filed under: Life
I’m back. I’ve never cried so much in my life as I have this year.
I am blessed, tired, overwhelmed, and in the arms of the one I love.
I’ll be back soon with a real post about my incredible trip to Joe’s funeral in Illinois. Here we are together for one of the last great times we had.
Filed under: Life
Well, friends, it looks like I’m off to Illinois for Joe’s funeral, assuming I can straighten out my airline miles and buy my ticket before I need to leave for the airport in 20 minutes!
This is going to be my first time flying solo since my pre-Pat days of Eastern European travel. Crazy, seems like yesterday. This will also be my longest stretch away from Theo.
Wish me well and give an extra big hug to the people in your life that you love.
This is hard.
I found out today that one of my very, very favorite people is gone. It’s unfathomable how sudden, how fast, how young. A long time friend, fellow adventurer, crocheter, joyful soul. Joe, you are missed. So much history, so very many inside jokes, so much laughter. You made everything seem possible.
“Grace… Graaaace… GRAAAAACE!”
“I could never work in a meat shop. They’d say ‘Joe, where’s that 50 pounds of meat’ and I’d say ‘Oh… I gotta poop…’”
Good bye, Joseph Kudabeck, you were loved.
Filed under: Music
So, there’s this place in Sumner called Beyond the Bridge Cafe. I’ve never been there. I hear great things about it though. Like how it’s sort of a community hub for art, friendship, and music. This Friday we are playing a show there with some other local bands.
The deal is, they sort of close down and throw these “private” music events, (complete with a wider beverage selection than their normal business hours allow), and, from what I hear, they are wonderful.
In order for this to work, anyone wishing to attend these private parties needs to get their name down on the guest list. This is a little problematic for people who are anything like me, never knowing for sure what a day is going to look like until it turns out and having a hard time committing to things that are whole entire days away.
The way I look at it, though, if you think there’s a chance you just might want to saunter on over to cute little Sumner this Friday and hang out with real, live, music making human beings instead of watching catch-up episodes of Heroes on your laptop, you may as well get your name on that list. Just in case.
And, I’d love to see you there.
So, to summarize:
- email me
- or email the BBC cafe
- pick out a flattering outfit
- begin drinking coffee around 5pm on Friday so you’re wide awake and ready to go out
- find five dollars in your budget
- come see us play
- feel like you’re part of a cool, private, party
On a final note, to the woman who drove up from Dupont to see our last show after randomly finding me through a series of internet links, you are adventurous, I’m glad you had fun, and you’ll be glad to know that there is finally a song up on our myspace page.
Thanks guys.
Filed under: Art, Music, Tacoma | Tags: Barton Carroll, Motopony, Music, SoTA, Star Anna, Tacoma, The Round
Yes, I’m really excited about this. The Round is a local, unusual, well orchestrated, intimate art experience. There are musicians, live painters, poets, and sometimes a surprise or two. Everyone’s sort of out of their normal performance element, and yet sharing together from one stage, taking turns listening to each other and even contributing on the art of other’s if the inspiration strikes.
I’m sure some of you faithful readers remember me talking about the Round before. I’ve been to all of the Tacoma editions and, just last week, had the pleasure of attending my first Seattle Round. David Bazan (of Pedro the Lion way back in the day) was sort of the headliner and he was deeply, completely, great.
Pretty much, the Round doesn’t disappoint. This edition’s line-up is no exception: Barton Carroll, Star Anna, Motopony, along with several student painters from the School of The Arts (SoTA) and live poetry by Luke Smiraldo and Rajnii Eddins.
So, I don’t know who all out there reads my blog, I know that there are a lot of you. (echo, echo, who are some of you people, anyway?) If art is your thing, if you love music, and if being absorbed in something unique and wonderful here in Tacoma sounds like exactly what you need on these dark and rainy days, come to the next Round on November 1st at 8pm.
I’ll leave you with some photos of past Rounds.
Filed under: Family
I took this photo last week while we stood at the light rail station, mid-way through one of our low key rambles through downtown. Riding the “train” is enough of a thrill for the boys in itself that, often, we build whatever other things we do in an afternoon around it’s route.
Plus, it’s free.
Lots of our days are filled with errands, with music practice, with social commitments or work. Being able to simply plan to be downtown, and experience whatever it brings us, has fast become one of our favorite ways to spend our days of down time. One day, when my hands aren’t quite so full, I’ll try and take more pictures of our adventures.
I’ve started trying to work on my pictures in iphoto a bit before I upload them, enhancing, cropping, adding some effects. The challenge is to make them better without letting them get too fake looking. I like how this one turned out.
Filed under: Family
Yes, Theo took his first steps a week or two ago. And hasn’t done it much since. But he can.
Bindle is a song of loss, of anger, of weakness, of peace. Of what happens in the first blind moments of grief. In a year that has been so wearying, how fitting that this should be the first real recording to come out of our band, Goldfinch.
All summer we’ve spent treading water, trying to finish this thing up and move on to the next song, but have found our days totally derailed by events in life. Yet, each time I’ve come back to edit it I’ve been struck by the nearness of my own voice, saying the very things that my heart is crying.
And that’s why, I think, it’s been okay that it’s taken these past few months to process through the recording. Because the grief of losing my Dad will take a long, long time, too. And there’s grace on us when we need room to weep, to work through the anger, to feel everything we need to feel.
Bindle is our small bundle of worldly possessions, a hobo’s belongings, everything we hold dear and can carry with us. And sometimes, God asks to have it, too.
So, I’m ready to share this with all of you and I’m so happy to have had the chance to work on it. It’s been something that’s helped me a great deal. Come, listen, absorb, and enjoy.
…photo from this really cool collection of train art on flickr…
