Since losing Timothy on the autumnal equinox of 2018, my seasonal calendar has hinged on two events loosely fixed to his passing. In November, I go to White Eagle Natural Burial Ground for its All Souls Day honoring of time’s passage. On that day, we who have our dear ones resting in the peaceful earth at Ekone gather around ceremonial fires. We share bread and soup, memories and poems, and help “put the cemetery to bed” for the winter.
In spring, I go for their regular mid-April work party. We root out the evil bitterbrush, then drag winter-dead brush to bonfires with a certain jubilation missing from November’s fires. We pause to admire the tiny leaves and flowers just beginning to populate the still-scruffy woods and meadows.
I was looking forward to my second April at White Eagle. I may rue the reason I’m there, but being with the after-life community is as nourishing as a spring rain. When I heard the April work party — and likely May’s and June’s — was being cancelled, my heart sank. We might be working in the open air, but the risk from spreading coronavirus when we gather at lunch or in the lodge was too great. Besides that, Governor Inslee has closed down the inessential aspects of any and all businesses in Washington. Even a funeral such as we gave Timothy would be prohibited in these pandemic days.
I thought of Tim’s funeral pretty much all day today. I learned this morning that our global jazz family has lost two of its best-loved and most respected treasures. Their families (and we, the extended family of fans) will struggle to grieve together as Timothy’s family of friends could that day.
Guitarist Bucky Pizzarelli was one of Tim’s personal heroes. Tim studied his form and technique diligently — sometimes up close — back when he haunted some of the same musicianly circles in Newark. Indeed, music books by one of Bucky’s own inspirations — George van Eps — turned up in Timothy’s music library. (Another proof of Tim’s diligence in tracing the inspirational roots of those who inspired him.) This video is low quality, but In a Mellow Tone was one of Tim’s favorites to play, and Tim would likely have seen Pizzarelli in New York one year before it was recorded.
As for pianist Ellis Marsalis, Tim and I had a long-standing admiration for the man and his art. It began when Tim played the New Orleans jazz ‘season’ for several years. (What a coincidence that the season spanned Hallowe’en and the April Jazz Heritage Festival — another juxtaposition of dark to light.) Scanning the club listings — or just walking through the Quarter — you were likely to trip over Ellis or another of the Marsalis clan playing a club or big-venue gig. (Just about as easy: tripping over a Neville sibling in full voice.) This tribute from Jazz at Lincoln Center sums up Ellis’s star quality, and wide-ranging influence.
Timothy marveled at the threads interconnecting so many superlative talents through his two cities, Newark and New Orleans. Somewhere in jazz heaven, I guess he is marveling still…