Tranquility in the Airport Lounge

 Amex Lounge, Minneapolis Airport. 

Tranquility to me is simply being in a place that you don't want to leave. An airport lounge is usually not such a place. But on this day I am sitting alone, writing, drinking coffee, watching the day unfold undisturbed. I am on a trip to  Charlotte to wrap up a family business matter. It is without controversy or messiness. It is unfolding just as it was supposed to. Nearby are people to assist me with my travels but they keep their distance and are silent. If you were sitting across from me I would speak this now: "I could stay here all day". 

So as I write I am draw to other times and places when I had this same sort of sense, that temporary well-beingness. I know this will pass but it was worth the wait. This overwhelming desire that the day last very very long. 

Other times...

Once when sitting in the parking lot of a Best Western in Oregon. Cigar and crossword puzzle in hand. Why this always comes to mind is lost to me. 

An evening with good friends at Cajun's Wharf restaurant in Arkansas. 1980's. 

Fishing with my oldest daughter in the dawn of her adulthood. 

On the couch with my wife, watching the snow fall. Any winter. 

Listening to Jack Buck call a Cardinals game. Cigar. Back deck of my brother Kevin's house. Early 2010s. 

Driving across the Flint Hills region of Kansas with my youngest daughter. 

Throwing a baseball with my son, mid 90s, our back yard, 8pm. 

Roan Mountain State Park, When I am the only one there. 

Jackson Square, New Orleans. Cafe DuMonde. Early Morning. Katrina aftermath. 

The man who made me love jazz

Dave Brubeck died today. One thousand years from now, when the last memory of 21st century silliness, like global warming, lady gaga, the tea party, and monster beverages has faded from human consciousness, there will still be a place for "Take Five". Perhaps it will be the tune of the national anthem of whatever country Minnesota is then part of.

How many times have I fallen to sleep listening to it? Dozens I'm sure. Mebbe a hundred.

I came late to jazz, real late, in my forties. In my youth I associated jazz with Dixieland, Louis Armstrong, Al Hirt. Sweaty fat people with trumpets blaring on Bourbon Street. Funny music, party music, not serious, not thoughtful, not warm. It didn't take.

Dave did not turn me on to jazz. Jane Monheit was the one who first piqued my interest about ten years ago, at a club in Minneapolis. But Brubeck put it inside me. That cool soft sound that seem so natural, like something we were all born to love.

There was a movie once, or a TV show, that played Take Five in the opening scene. The tune was soon all in my head and had to go to a store and thumb through all the CDs until I could see a copy of The Essential Dave Brubeck in my hands.

I don't write about jazz, don't know how, and never felt the need. Today I do. Thank you Dave.

Tranquility Base

I just returned from two days in New Orleans. While I ate at several nice restaurants, the best meal was enjoyed while sitting on a park bench overlooking the Mississippi with beignets and coffee from Cafe Du Monde. If the weather is right it is simply one of the most peaceful places I have ever been. The smell of the river and all that it brings, the statue of Andrew Jackson, flowers blooming, the sound of fortune tellers selling lies, and the occasional smell of something cajun cooking somewhere close by, all gather to make this a special place that I have to visit every time I'm near the French Quarter.  

This got me thinking about other places, where I feel like this. Relaxed, reflective, and most detached from day to day cares. Here are a few places in the US that make my list. Some I've been to many times, others just once or twice

1) At my mothers home, when only the two of us are there.
2) At my home, when the Christmas tree is up, the snow is falling, the fireplace is roaring
3)  Miller's Homestead, Roan Mountain State Park, in Tennessee
4) Sedona, Arizona
5) St. Andrews State Park, Florida
6) The White River, Arkansas, near Cotter
7) Dunnegan Park, Bolivar Missouri
8) Pinnacle Mountain, in Arkansas
9) Driving Silver Bay to Grand Portage, Minnesota's North Shore
10) Lake Placid, NY
11) The Lawn on the campus of the University of Virginia
12) The financial district of San Francisco, 6am on any morning
13) The grounds of the St. Louis Arch
14) St. Patrick's Cathedral - NY
15) Alfred B. Maclay State Gardens, Tallahassee

There are days that start out perfectly

New Orleans Louisiana, 19 February 2009, 730 am, walking down Royal Street toward Cafe DuMonde. "Bad Moon Rising" is blaring from the stereo of one of countless bars. So weird to hear that song at breakfast time it has to make one smile. In a couple of hours i'll be a money manager discussing strategy with a client in a boardroom across town. For now i'm just another guy in jeans looking for a good cup of coffee in the french quarter.

It's a bit chilly at the cafe and the only tables are inside. I've had coffee here a half dozen times but always outside, never inside. A painting on the wall has the caption ..." It seemed like an ordinary day until I had coffee with Jesus at Cafe Du Monde.

Orleans

I visited New Orleans this week, as I do a couple of times each year. Had some free times one evening, which I spent in Jackson Square. It was hot and muggy but with a breeze, which made the out of doors immensely bearable. Spent a nice long hour smoking a cigar and sipping a cup of cafe au lait from Cafe DuMonde. It was so nice I walked back to my hotel, got another cigar and went back for another cup and another hour of sipping coffee and strolling the french quarter. Stray cats gather in the square at sundown, as do the stray souls.

I walked by, but did not dine, at one of my favorite restaurants, Muriels. I'm not one to dine alone and as this was a solo trip I chose to make my dinner from a Lucky Dog and a diet Pepsi. Walked along the wicked end of Bourbon Street.

The rolling of the Mississippi. I have raised my children under the influence of this grand old dragon that slices America in two. I am not sure that I like the Mississippi, not in the way that I like the White River in North Arkansas or the Doe River in Tennessee. Big rivers are killers. The Kenai River is a killer. The Missouri River is a killer. Given the chance the Mississippi would swallow me, while the Doe River would gently push me to her banks.