This morning, I started wondering whatever happened to someone I knew from college. Pat was in my philosophy class and was an avid music listener. He'd recommended the ominous Michael Hedges guitar piece, "Because It's There," to me, which is still a favorite and, in my opinion, would make great theme music for a drama about paranormal activity. He was also the first person I knew who appreciated the vocals and dazzling guitar pyrotechnics of Eric Johnson. As bassists--I played the acoustic bass, and he played electric bass--we both appreciated Stanley Clarke's "School Days" and "Journey To Love" albums. During my first two years of college, we talked frequently about our favorite music. He'd also been on the air at KCOU a year before I was and gave me a rough idea of what to expect before I worked there. He left college after two years, so we didn't talk often after that.
I wondered if he was playing in a band, as he'd done in high school, or was employed elsewhere in the music world. I don't know if that was the case, however, because what I found online was his obituary. To my dismay, he'd passed away in 2016. To make matters worse, he'd left a fiancee behind when he died. Here's hoping in the next life that his wife-to-be and he have the reunion--and union--they were meant to have. I also hope that he's enjoying all the music he wants to hear--and saying, "Ooh...Ooh...Yeah," separately--or together, if he wants.
As if our current pandemic hadn't driven this home already, we don't always have as much time to connect and reunite with people as we think we have.
