I’d driven about 1,000 miles over the past five days, and finally came to rest back home in frigid-gettin’-more-frigid Columbia. Left Mom in Monett with some ideas I hoped might help, and maybe they did: after eight months–that was a smart delay–she boxed up my dad’s clothes (with the help of Phyllis and Mike Garrett) and took them to Crosslines. Few things are harder to do after the death of a loved one, but few things are (at least eventually) more necessary. I am very proud of her! And grateful: I’m perpetually underdressed for cold snaps and she sent me with one of Dad’s big coats. The roads were fine, but freezing drizzle had been forecast, and she didn’t want to see me trudging up a shoulder of I-44 in worn ol’ hoodie.

Nicole was at work when I arrived, but homemade peanut butter, chocolate chip, and oatmeal cherry cookies were waiting for me, as well as some of her famous sweet-potato-enriched enchiladas. I got caught up on my reading, filled out some endless paperwork for my upcoming pulmonary appointment (I tell ya, it never ends!), and had an enjoyable FB Messenger convo with the mentally energetic Adam Sperber regarding The Five Royales, Tony Williams, Sonny Sharrock and other geniuses.

When Nicole got home, we cooked a pizza and some spinach, got under the covers, lounged, read, transformed into cat furniture, and hit the sack early (well, the time was normal for one who awakens when we do). There’s no place like home, especially right now.

Streaming for Strivers:

Speaking of Black musical history titans who left us too soon and are too little known to the general public, the inventor of chainsaw jazz!