Haven’t seen Ruben and Bianca for 17 years before tonight, and, to coin a cliché, it was just like old times. Especially with me reminding Ruben about my 31st birthday party when Kelly (Juilliard-trained) got ahold of a mangy old trombone and played the Ride of the Valkyries for us. And all the other patrons in the 4 floors of the restaurant. Who sent compliments.
How can a trombone be “mangy?” Well, you kind of had to have been there.
And about the summer I sent him to England on a job, and he met Bishop Tutu, and got a good close-up view of Princess Diana. And lots of other things, people, places.
Time passes, and it doesn’t. Surprise, surprise. Like nobody’s noticed that before. But then you, if you’re lucky, get to see the truth behind the cliché.
So they’re back to Montreal in the morning, while we have more time here in NYC. Many promises to come to visit Montreal, and I hope I can manage to do so, during the 10 minutes or so each year when the snow has melted there. I hope.
white pebble 