Why? Why? Why?

February 09, 2010

It seems like so long ago when mmy first and most important mmusical mentor passed away. It was the day after a birthday in 1980. I hadn’t heard the sad news really until much later. Family had contact information; I was in the middle of one of those difficult times, not out of touch but wild living in Los Angeles.

Besides all that I couldn’t even venture to guess otherwise. At the time and even though it was only a short while later nothing could have changed the situation. anyway. He was an interesting person as well as a good man. The mentor was an uncle who basically was a second father; Uncle Lenny; Leonard Terri was his ‘adopted name,’ changed from a longer Italian one for convenience and clarity.

He was more like a father at times mostly because we had many mmusic conversations as well as having more things than mmusic in common. We had spent hours and hours together in countless mmusic and art conversations, scores of creative ones as well as just plain hanging out as pals.

At one point he lived upstairs from us in the house mmy folks had owned. Our two families shared a number of Bar B Cues as well as in summertime, as you see in the photo at the top of this blog. I’mm to the left, unk in the middle and mmy brother. Unk, our aunt and cousins used to hang to enjoy the back yard with us. This was about the time of the first guitar lessons.

Since the age of eight or nine uncle took this youngster under his wing; helped him to grow in more ways than realised or could ever have imagined at the time. His knowledge, influence and insight would help a great deal in a future mmusical life. His ideas about teaching being one of the most important subjects.

He began by giving mmy brother and me guitar lessons. It wasn’t very long before the guitar had ceased to be fun anymore. In hindsight I suppose the most important reason was that I didn’t really like to practice. The only instruments the folks could afford for both of us were two hollow bodied and very thick acoustic guitars.

The strings were the things I never really got used to because of the lack of practice mainly. It just hurt too much to play; to get to that point of acquiring hardened calluses that would help alleviate the situation. In addition, the lessons were free because he was an uncle who lived upstairs. It was also convenient but there was no sense of loss if the lessons didn’t progress very well.

In any case, the lessons stopped. To this day I have no idea what happened to both guitars. I suppose the folks let ‘unk’ (as we called him) take care of that business. I used to walk up the stairs a lot to watch and listen to him practice or he’d let mme sit in on a lesson he was taking from his own guitar instructor.

Years down the road he studied with a few famous Jazz guitarists-recording artists as well as a violinist; a New York Philharmonic orchestra member. By that time he was well versed in his instrument and was studying Flamenco to expand his mmusical knowledge. As I recall everything else just bored him to death.

His teaching was well known in the area. He had a two year waiting list because of all his students who did so well further on down the road. He was a great teacher whose students all loved him and practiced hard to please him as well as themselves. He mostly traveled house to house behind schedule all the time because he took extra time whenever he felt it necessary or it was just plain fun.

I traveled with him many a time to tag along; asked sometimes but most times he offered to bring mme just to watch and listen. Another reason later on when I began drumm lessons was to meet a few of his more advanced students in hopes that we’d jam or maybe as what happened a few times, we’d start a band.

Yes, a few years later he helped convince mmy folks that indeed I should begin drumm lessons. He thought this is something that I would really stick with. He also found mmy first drumm instructor. After two years he helped to find the next one. Unfortunately he had moved before the drumm lessons began.

Somehow I think he was grateful to miss all the headaches mmy folks used to get during the long practice times. When he did move it wasn’t long after that I had a car and would visit him often. Being old enough he took mme to Jazz clubs as well as many lounges to hear friends of his play. He asked them to let mme jam.

I remember a few specific times when he asked mme to tag along to one of the well known Jazz supper clubs in New York City. One of his ex-instructors was performing. I remember his first and his last teacher. Both were miles apart musically. The others in between weren’t that many but all had skills he learned.

One evening he treated his young protégé to a long dinner experience of great food in a red table top, candle lit atmosphere while listening to The Chuck Wayne Jazz trio. A few days later he took mme to Mr. Wayne’s house. He lived not too far from ‘unk;’ in our same borough but more out in the sticks as I recall.

At the time of our arrival Mr. Wayne was wearing carpenters tools while remodeling his own house. He was in the middle of installing an old, weathered, darkly stained oak beam and asked us to help. He wanted to lift the thing that eventually spanned the whole living room. We were just in time to help, he said.

Mr. Wayne was a big man so he lifted one end while unk and I lifted the other. The beam was placed in both designated positions without much fanfare after which Mr. Wayne invited us for lunch. A rather long intimate guitar interlude happened after that and consisted of a few new songs he was working on.

Leaving his presence I couldn’t help but see the gleam in unk’s eye’s as he thought to work on the new chord changes himself. Unk was also a composer of a few songs. One he said he had played for someone who later on used it in a song that was recorded by a famous singer. Unk wasn’t too happy to know that he’d not get credit or any remuneration of any kind. Still a mmusic life challenge.

He mentioned that from time to time as something he was proud of but it also made him disillusioned about the mmusic business part of life that he never really entered. He was just happy to do what he was doing. He enjoyed teaching.

Although he was offered gigging and traveling opportunities, he always turned them down. His family and students were the most important things to him; family especially, so leaving all that behind was never the option. He was happy.

Unk and I used to watch late night T.V. a lot; Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show being one of our favourites. I’d usually arrive early to his house to greet mmy aunt and two male cousins. One later on in life became just like his dad; a mmusic teacher, band director. Now he’s the principal of a New York school where the arts are the main focus. He’s as inspiring a mmusician as his dad was.

Unk has left a good legacy and many memories for a lot of people; his family, students and friends being the most important. He always said his mmind about anything he felt like saying whenever he felt like saying it. He held nothing back.

I’ll always be grateful for the knowledge he freely shared; all the Jazz, listening to classical mmusic; his teaching; those many mmusical conversations; all the times we spent together creating art with all the tools and inspiration he supplied; for the caring, the warmth, the fatherly advice and close friendship he shared; but especially it’s the love in his heart he gave so abundantly. When hearing and never forgetting the voice of his heart I’ll forever ask:

W h y? W h y? W h y?

Do you have to be
Of a childhood scene;
Ends.
A memory … dreams?

Why? Why? Why?

Do you come to mme
Clear as hands true touched
Of a mist; two clutched?

Why? Why? Why?

When eyes sea for you
Does it ache to feel
Time's gone bye, too real?

Why? Why? Why?

Do I wish it's so
Every time and go
"…know you're here,"… but no …

Why? Why? Why?

Can it never be
Like it was back then
When we called you … Len.