Be The Rain [on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you want to see me cry, play Lowen and Navarro’s song, If I Was The Rain. There are two versions that kill me. The version released on their album, All The Time In The World. And, the Youtube of Eric Lowen’s last concert. In the hard grip of ALS, he spoke the words of the song from his wheelchair. It is, without a doubt, a triumph of the human spirit. I blubber every time I watch it.

“If I was the rain/ I’d polish every outbound train/ I’d wash the teardrops from your eyes/ so you could kiss the blues good-bye.”

We simply could not believe it. Standing in the sunroom we watched a torrent of water stream down the windows. The gutters were overwhelmed. Sheets of water enveloped the house. It was as if we were standing behind a raging waterfall. It was, at the same time, glorious and terrifying. Beautiful and petrifying.

“If I was the rain/ I’d answer all the farmer’s prayers/ till green was growing everywhere/ If I was the rain.”

We’d just emerged from the basement. Trying to channel the incoming water to the floor drains, we laid towels, we positioned fans. We quickly moved boxes and bags, anything in the water’s path. We laughed and looked at each other wide-eyed. What else could we do?

“If I was the rain/ I’d choose forever to remain/ I’d add a sparkle to the night/ and marvel at the morning bright.

It’s a new day. The rain has finally stopped. The sun is attempting to break through the clouds. The basement is dry at last. Our towel-river-bank is in the washer, getting cleaned and ready for the next emergency. We looked at photos on the web of the local flooding. We shook at heads at the volume of water that fell. It came so fast.

If I was the rain/ I’d bless each blossom to unfold/ and I’d turn each one of them into gold/ if I was the rain…

The world as seen through a waterfall. Roaring off our roof, cascading down the walls and windows, distorting the reality as we know it. Altering the arc of the day. Neighbors texting neighbors, “Are you okay?” People, knee-deep in water, helping other people because they need it. The best of humanity showing its face, even for a brief moment.

“If I was the rain…”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RAIN

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Love What You Do

a detail from my painting, May You Be

a detail from my painting, May You Be

It is cold and the lake is very still. It’s one of the things I love about living next to the lake: one day it is glassy stillness, the next it is an angry torrent. It is alive and has many, many faces.

Quinn used to say, “There are 5 billion people on this planet and you’re the only one who gives a damn about what you are doing or how you are doing it.” That was some time ago. There are now 7 billion people on the planet but I’m certain the equation remains the same. If you stop your forward motion because of what others might think, you are indulging in a delusion. The other 7 billion people are primarily concerned with themselves, not you. The deep water lesson: do what you love because you love to do it. There aren’t nearly as many limits as you pretend.

I thought of Quinn the other night because I have a new hero. His name is Dan Navarro. He’s a troubadour, a singer songwriter, and was performing at Cafe Carpe in Fort Atkinson, about an hour and a half drive from home. Kerri has long been a fan and introduced me to the music of Lowen & Navarro. For many decades, Dan Navarro wrote and performed with his friend and creative partner, Eric Lowen. They were brilliant together. A rare fit, a true creative team, Eric Lowen died of ALS in 2012. He and Dan wrote and performed as long as humanly possible after Eric’s diagnosis. They loved to write. They loved to perform.

A few months ago Kerri and I were listening to a Lowen & Navarro album and wondered what had become of Dan Navarro so we googled him. To our great surprise we discovered the impending Fort Atkinson stop on his latest mini tour.

Cafe Carpe is a smallish place and Dan Navarro is an accessible guy so I wasn’t surprised when, before the concert, he came over for a chat. He and Kerri talked about the pain of disappearing royalties and the radical changes technology has brought to music making and music selling. I wondered how many times he’s been asked about the loss of Eric and how it must be the white elephant in every performance as well as every conversation; the people coming to see Dan Navarro are fans of Lowen & Navarro. When it came up in our conversation he was gracious and spoke openly of missing his friend everyday.

He is putting the final touches on a solo album due out in March. “Who knows how it will be received.” he said. “And who cares. You do what you love to do and put it out into the world. That’s the best you can do.”

He took the stage, a troubadour in his power and his prime with the ease that can only come from doing with his life what he was meant to do. “People ask me about retiring…,” he spoke into the mic, “…and I will never retire. I don’t know what that means. I love what I do and will always do it.” he said, sliding into a song that left us no alternative but to follow.