It gave me pause for a second or two, and I made a very definite mental note, even though it wasn’t really painful. As it’s always a popular nightclub I was hurrying to get a decent seat, which meant jogging or at least walking extremely fast for about four blocks in wintry weather.īy the time I got to the front door of the Pfister Hotel, which Blu tops off on its 23 rd floor, I suddenly felt a tightness in my chest that I had never really experienced before. I was on my way to the nightclub Blu in downtown Milwaukee to see trumpeter Jamie Breiwick’s Monk repertory band Dreamland, which had proved expert at the material. Though Kris is a very rational scientist-type, she conceded such impish “ghost” behavior was the sort of thing Kathy, a parlor piano player herself, would do.īut I digress. I had also been in touch with her only sister at the time. I wondered if my impish late first wife Kathy Naab, who had died at age 47, was doing some metaphysical messing with me. The music box started up inexplicably a couple of times and I was a bit spooked. The music box formerly belonged to my deceased mother (who happens to be pictured beside the piano with my late father). Here’s the photo and caption I write when I first reported on my mysterious little music box: I took this photograph shortly after the small tin piano-shaped music box on top of the buffet shelf began playing its song, after several years of sitting silently. Now that I think of it, the only times I’ve wondered about ghosts enough to write about them was when a piano music box that I’d hadn’t played more than once, started playing on my dining room and looming right over the piano was Monk, in the visage of his unforgettable cover portrait on TIME magazine. So, I’ll give Mister Ra (or, as he aptly called himself, “Mystery”) a nod too for my survival, as well. But, to reference another classic jazz title, this was “Fate in a Pleasant Mood,” by Sun Ra. And it was Friday the 13 th! Last Friday the 13 th of January.įate was nipping at my nose mischievously, and knocking on the door of my chest, ominously.
Think of Monk’s “Friday the 13th” being a recorded loop in my costume. And if I were young enough, a Monk ghost costume for Halloween would be grand and get plenty of sweet loot from boomer door greeters at least. Well, yes, that’s a trick, since he died in 1982 and I’ll not overplay the Monk ghost hand, though it’s inevitable figuratively, in my case. The music of Thelonious Monk by the Isaiah Kitts Quintet.
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