Well, there were a million Wednesday evenings late-ish after yoga when I would come home with Renee to your cheery self and the smell of pesto and salad or some exotic experiment you were doing out of Crank’s Fast Food timed to be done just after we arrived. But not before getting to play with cavorting cats and one time one untempered young Turk hurling himself through the air to land with a pincer grip on your back. Oh, and bread and infused oil and just the right amount of wine in hand-blown glasses and usually divvied portions of chocolate so we all tasted everything. So scrumptious, so civilized, so European, so much better than the pot of rice I probably would have made for myself at home. It was almost as good as the spirited conversations we embarked on over the food – which I consider instances of your signature energy and enthusiasms. So worth the heavy price of having to do dishes after 9:00pm!

Way back when, you had a long beard. I remember watching you in a concert and wondering how that worked with an accordion.  And you said it did get caught and it hurt!

You know I have nudie pictures of you and Renee skinny-dipping!!

Chairs, chairs, chairs and more chairs, 44 or so! Schlepping up and down and my worry wart, fuss-budget tendencies getting the upper hand – was the food right, was there enough wine, was so and so going to show? And then finally when you guys took the stage and you could joke and everything was right and all that disappeared and there was only the moment to moment infinite transcendence of your music. Coco Eyes, Coach, Norwegian Slip….the interlacing lines with Ima’s violin, Adam, Andy. Those arresting moments when time stops and that’s all there is. OK, earlier with Claudio, at your neighbors around the corner, at Johnnie D’s, in JP, lying on massive piles of rugs in Newton Lower Falls!, in the South End with Fernando, more recently at Ryles with that hot guitar player.