Saturday, March 12, 2011.
Touched, And Touching.
Spent the morning writing two kinds of e-mail messages. First were thank-you notes to dozens of people who heard about my broken foot and communicated sympathy. The Windsor Court, for example, sent a lovely bouquet, which the Marys promptly removed to their own quarters. (I'm not big on flowers, anyway.) I already wrote to the general manager of the hotel thanking him for his staff's quick action after I collapsed in his elevator. I want to make certain that he doesn't worry for a second that they might be liable for anything.
The other kind of e-mail cancelled the six or seven appearances I promised to various organizations. One of these was really tough to write. This guy tried to get me to speak to his group for four or five years, but we could never seem to find a good date for both of us. Then we finally did: for next week. But that's out.
A huge disappointment for me was canceling my appearance in two weeks at a grand Korean dinner. The famed Myung Lee will be in town for a big dinner at the home of jazz clarinetist Tim Laughlin, with John Besh and his like as guests. I was going to broadcast the preparations for the dinner from the kitchen. But the apartment is upstairs! I can barely get up the five steps from the ground to my first-floor, and then only on my butt.
My little sister Lynn wrote to tell me that Rick Barton, the provost of UNO and movie critic, had an ankle issue as bad as mine recently. Rick and I were colleagues on Peggy Scott Laborde's "Steppin' Out" television show in its early years. Rick strongly urged me to get a "knee walker." It's a four-wheeled device in which the gimp puts the knee of the leg with the injury on a padded seat, and puts his other foot on the floor. This way the weight is evenly divided on both legs, allowing the good leg to take more or less normal steps instead of hopping.
I came to that idea myself on a limited scale, using the desk chair I'm scooting around in to support the knee. It seemed unstable, though, so I limited this to the bathroom, where it really came in handy. Rick, who is back on two feet, says he will lend me his knee walker. Mary Ann is hesitant about that idea. I think she suspects Rick of being a liberal.
I had an hour and a half show to put on WWL. Cripples are good on radio. Nobody knows. I worked with a few severely handicapped radio people, and usually was very surprised when I met them for the first time. Some such guys were on television. Game show host Bill Cullen could not walk. I watched him for years and didn't know that.
The Marys were out while I did the show, having yet another meal at VooDoo BBQ. How could they not tire of such a limited menu? They came home with a roast beef poor boy for me from Bear's in Mandeville. Good stuff, but I was a little hesitant about eating it. My good foot is showing initial signs of the gout. I sure hope that doesn't get rolling.
Pops--the biography of Louis Armstrong--continues to be a great read. Enough that, after reading it for an hour this evening, I put it aside and pulled up all the videos I could find of Satchmo in performance. I found about a half-dozen, exactly the songs you'd expect: Sleepy Time Down South, The Saints, Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen, and (of course) Hello Dolly. What I now know about Armstrong brought a new appreciation of just how fine a performer he was. Not just his horn playing and his singing, but the way he related to his audience. It was pure, genuine involvement, matched by few others. He was made to be filmed, his expressive face a director's dream. You can't resist his gravity. Watching him sing and blow literally brought me to tears--not once, but a few times. I know I'm emotionally fragile right now, but this was beyond that. No wonder so many people loved him.
