Kaddish For Uncle Bob Poem by one who waits

I was 2

and Uncle Bob came to visit California.
His fuzzy beard & crazy hair is what I remember.
A faded photograph, younger days.
We went to the beach and park.
He smiled a lot.

I was 3
and I wanted to listen to *Uncle Bob’s Tape*
I still have that tape.
It’s now on my iPod...

Bob's Blues Motel

I was 15 in the summer of '86.
Charles Lloyd was rolling heavy
Roland Kirk was blowing wild
Zulu had a picture of Rahsaan on the wall
Was that REALLY 3 axes?
Serenade for a couple of Cuckoos
He turned me on to early Jethro Tull
And Pink Floyd
And Trane
And Miles
And Bird
And Cannonball
After all, my son’s name is Julian

The Blues Mobile

I was 18 in the last fast summer of the 80’s
We got blessed again in the river where Granny was baptized
We ate at Gene & Darlene’s
And Fred & Red’s
We drank bad whiskey from the trunk of Pat Randall’s Cadillac
We fished and swam in Shoal Creek
And tripped the river walk
We drove the old highway
Past gravestones centuries old
Farms and trees and cliffs and streams
Blur the glass as laughter and music
Among other things
Waft from windows rolled down

Through it all
It was the Music
Above all
It was the Music
The Muse
The communication
The groove
Music is good for the soul
Bob knew it and passed it along to everyone he met
He spoke with music
He lived by music
And died with music in his heart
Music is the path that leads us onward
Music is Magic
Music is Light
Music is Life

Keep on Rockin’ Uncle Bob

I bid you Peace

Uncle Bob
8.5.1945 - 7.16.2008