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Saturday, August 13, 2011

"Down in front"--a poem and ode to my good friend and bud, Steve-O Crabtree, investment guy and Yale Di-vin'-i-tee grad

Every Thursday from 6 to 10 p.m. the Canoe Club at Harbor Park in Middletown, right on the bend of the Connecticut River, hosts free jazz on the outdoor veranda and bar area.  Just this week, a very soulful, very lovely jazz singer named Theresa Wright performed with her band.  Here's a link to Theresa' listing on CD Baby, where you can buy her new album and listen to some song clips.  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/wrighttheresa 

Anyway, at about 9 p.m. I'd had enough talkin' and chattin' and all that talk-talk-talk, yap-yap-yap, stuff so I got up and started dancin' with the band, right up there 'bout a few feet from where Theresa was singin' with her angelic Goddess of Jazz voice.  And one of my friends, a man who shall remain anonymous, but whom I love dearly, got upset that I left his table and danced up near, and close to, and even with, it seemed, Theresa as she sang her last few songs with the band.

So my friend and I worked our trash talk 'bout the evening, and my leavin' the table, and in the view of some, showin' off my newly liberated, virtually totally liberated, nature, by dancin', free-as-a-bird-like, with the band, and the singer Goddess.  And now all's good 'tween my buddy and me.

Anyway, another good buddy o' mine, and me of him, Steve Crabtree, who in an earlier instatiation was a Congregational minister, and a dynamic one at that, and now is an investment advisor at Bank of America/Merrill Lynch, in Middletown, CT, in the Midfield Office Tower, and a very competent one at that, was sittin' at the same table as my buddy who got upset I left the same table (I slipped when I first typed "I left the sane table...."; the Freudian slip was probably the more correct spelling, and connotation!).  When I was dancin' right up close to and in front of Theresa, the Jazz Singer Goddess, Steve-o yelled out, in jest, "Down in front," to me, and I looked over at him, smiled, and laughed.

After reading the trash-talkin' e-mails between my other friend and me about a variety of complaints about my recent behavior, Steve Crabtree, who's on the same e-mail list as my once-upset friend,  wrote me the following e-mail, in support of our friendship, and even my dancin' like a crazy old bird-Grandude.  And I wrote back to Steve with the following poem, thanking him for his vote in favor of Crazy Bob's New Life Choices and Actions, including dancin' in public when nobody else feels uninhibited enough to join in the fun.

Here's the e-mail from Steve, followed by my "Ode to Steve-O":

From: steve crabtree
To: a12250@hotmail.com
Date: Sat, 13 Aug 2011 00:55:28 -0400
Subject: RE: For what it's worth--it's probably worth what we pay each other for it

Dear Bob,

I am glad to be your friend.  No offense when I yelled "down in front."  You can do whatever the hell you want, especially! if it is dancing.

Steve

Connected by DROID on Verizon Wireless

 And the "Ode to Steve-O":

Ode to Steve-O


dear-

   'rest, 

steve!

yo'-

da'-

  man-

from- 

ten 

   uh, 

      see.?

yo'

dude, 

so 

like

ya' 

know, 

dude-

man,

like

eye 

luv'd 

it,

when

you,

yelled-- 

"down in front!!!"--

eye 

thought

at that

moe-ment,

god-dam,

eye

love,

dat

dude,

dat

man,

dat

1,

from, 

ten, 

   uh 

     see.--

             --?

wit' 

fren',

like

dat',

who

need,

no

moe?--

         --!

ah'll

love 

yo' 

dude,

       4

         ev',

             ah-h-h..................................................................................................................

'nuff said?                                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                           .......OHM-m-m-m-m...................................................................................................................

Gran' dood





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