Some pictures need no explanation. But in case you're wondering, here's how it all went down.
I met Mike May and his seeing eye dog, Miguel, at The Bluebird a while back. He liked my music, and I gave him a recent compilation of demos. I might have even sold it to him...I don’t remember. I do remember that I patted his dog Miguel on the top of his soft yellow head without asking, a move I’ve since learned is definitely a breach of etiquette! (Seeing eye dogs in harness are working! More about that later...) A week or two later, Mike emailed me with an unusual request. A book had been written about him, he said, and the movie rights to the book had already been sold. He said he really liked my music, and he wondered if I’d have any interest in reading the book and trying to write something for the project. I did a little research, enough to find out that Mike was a pretty extraordinary man, his blindness only adding to the strength of his accomplishments. A record holding downhill skier, a member of the four-man team that developed the laser turntable in the mid-eighties, the first blind CIA agent...the list went on and on. And to add to that, Mike had undergone groundbreaking surgery that had the potential to restore his vision after 43 years of blindness, making him a unique case study of interest to researchers and lay people alike. I was intrigued. I told him I’d love to try to write something for the project. Over the next three or four months, Mike and I got to know each other---I read the book, entitled Crashing Through by best-selling author Robert Kurson, and Mike listened to my music. I sent him new stuff when I had it, and along the way I wrote a song called “Crashing Through.” I struggled to capture the essence of Mike’s attitude: the perseverance and fearlessness that had propelled his crazy life and the emotional strength of his mother, who sought the best environment for her son to learn and never let him believe in failure. Their story was so incredible! I wanted to get it right. After I sent the tune to Mike via email, I anxiously awaited his response. When he did respond, it was to say that “Crashing Through” had made him cry. I breathed a sigh of relief. Fast forward a bit. Mike and I kept in touch through his book tour and the subsequent passing of his mother, OJ. OJ had relocated the family (all five kids!) to California after the accident that left three-year-old Mike blind, and there he had attended a camp for visually impaired kids in the beautiful Napa valley. It was a special place for Mike growing up, and later OJ became the camp director for a period of ten years. It was there, at The Enchanted Hills Camp, that OJ’s courageous spirit touched countless kids and counselors. And it was there that Mike and his siblings decided to hold her memorial service. They invited past campers and counselors, as well as family and friends, to attend, and Mike asked me to come out and sing at the service. I was honored. My husband, Park, was able to come with me, and I was particularly excited for the two of us to meet the cast of characters in Crashing Through: his siblings, wife and sons, and his close friends. I was also looking forward to spending some time with Mike, whom I had only met in person once. Mike had also mentioned the possibility that his friend, Mr. Steveland Morris---also known as THE Stevie Wonder---might attend the memorial as well. We arrived at Oakland International Airport with the number in hand of an old camp friend of Mike’s, Rick Fox. Rick and his seeing eye dog, Inca, were hitching a ride with us to the camp. When I spoke with Rick, he laughing told us we couldn’t miss him---he’d be the one with the big black dog. As we walked to meet Rick, I confessed to Park that I was worried about saying or doing the wrong thing with Rick or even Mike. What if I tried to help to much or even not enough? Clearly, these guys are more capable than most under any circumstances. I needn’t have worried, though. Rick put me at ease right away; he invited me to pet Inca, and he explained to me that Inca would follow us if given the command. It was amazing to watch Inca and Miguel, Mike’s dog, work all weekend. They go into work mode when their harness is on, and as the proud owner of three house mutts, I can safely say I have never seen such well-mannered canines in my life! But as soon as Rick let Inca out of his “all-business” harness, he turned into a big old sweet dog and wanted to fetch. It was very cool. We made the two hour trip out to the camp, and along the way Rick demonstrated the products of Mike’s most recent business venture, a GPS system for the blind. The software, made by Mike’s startup, Sendero, is compatible with a Braille note, which is either a full computer or a PDA of sorts, as far as I can tell. It has a line of braille that rises into each new line of text as needed, if that makes sense. I know Mike told me the name for that, but I forgot. So the GPS system enables the user to receive real time audio instructions on turns, both on roads and on foot. It’s pretty amazing. My map quest directions became instantly obsolete. Rick was able to tell us where and when to turn with precise directions like “exit on left in 2.2 miles...” Rick himself had written portions of Sendero’s manual, so he knew what he was doing. Inca lay calmly on the back seat, relaxed but alert. Interestingly, Rick told us that one thing that will disqualify a prospective seeing-eye dog is carsickness. As we approached the camp, Rick began to respond to the change in the smell of the air. He hadn’t been to Enchanted Hills in 20 years, but he recognized something in the air as we got closer. It made me wonder if I catalogue other sensory images that way. Would I recognize my favorite places if I couldn’t see them? When we arrived, a few of Mike’s cousins were sitting outside dining area, taking in the cool air and setting sun. Everyone was warm and welcoming. It was obvious that OJ had made everyone around her feel like family. Mike arrived with Miguel and showed us to a lovely cabin across from the dining hall. That night, we met a number of people over an excellent dinner of veggie lasagna and made plans to play some music at the campfire after dark. Mike had grown up playing guitar and singing songs, so I was really looking forward to swapping tunes....Rick is a musician as well, although pianos are harder to tote to campfires, so we made do, making our way through versions of folk tunes like “This Land is Your Land” and “The Water is Wide.” Inca and Miguel laid quietly by the fire. (Inca may have snuck a slurp or two from Park’s wine at one point, but I wouldn’t swear to it since he was on the job...) Park and I played through a number of tunes so that Mike could decide on the few that he wanted for the service. He chose three of my tunes, one of which was “Crashing Through,” and a beautiful Gillian Welch song called “By the Mark” that Park and I used to play in college. We slept soundly, snug in a twin bed with the windows open to the cool air. Breakfast was at eight on Saturday morning, and Mike and his siblings were busy with final arrangements. The day looked clear, so the ceremony would be held outdoors. Mike’s old friend Rob from the laser turntable days had come through with a last minute PA, so he was loading equipment down the long hill from the parking lot. One of OJ’s oldest friends, her roommate from University of Texas, had brought a photo/memory book that she had created of a friendship that spanned 60 years. She and Diane, Mike’s sister, set up a memory table with Katie’s memoir, as well as other family photos. Meanwhile, Mike had two friends who would be playing with Park and me, and as soon as they got to camp, we set about going over the tunes. Felix, a past camper, played bass. Mark, a hardcore jazzer-turned-bluegrasser, played acoustic guitar on my tunes and taught us a very cool bluegrass instrumental on which we were able to back him up. Rick Fox would be playing piano and singing a few tunes after the service. It was a lively bunch, and as soon as we had run the tunes, it was almost time for the 11 am service to begin. Park and I rushed to our cabin to get changed. People had been steadily arriving, and by the time we started plugging in and line-checking our guitars and mics, there were about 50 people there. I think the final number was around 100. The guest sat in chairs facing a small lake cradled by tall redwoods. Park, Mark, Felix, and I faced the audience. Mike’s colleague, Sheila, had a hand held mic to pass around to allow guests to speak and be heard. The air had been cool since we had arrived, but as we stood there, waiting for the cue to begin the first song, the sun was hot on our backs. Mike hadn’t mentioned Stevie that morning, and I assumed something had come up to prevent him from coming, but as I tuned my guitar for the eleventh time, I felt the audience’s gaze shift to my left, up the hill, where Stevie Wonder himself was walking, a bodyguard at his elbow. I don’t know what everyone else was thinking. Most of them may not have known about Stevie and Mike’s friendship. For me, seeing him walk down the hill and sit down in a front row chair about 5 feet from me induced a sort of stomach scream of excitement. I felt calm, but it was blowing my mind that I was about to play and sing for Stevie Wonder. I had a moment of wondering if he had super pitch detection since he didn’t have the distraction of watching someone tap their purple booted toe or something. Would he fixate on my sharp B-string? I began to wonder if, in fact, I was capable of singing in tune after all. I looked at Park, took a few deep breaths, and tuned my guitar for the twelfth time. The panic lasted only a second, though, because truthfully, I love to sing. It was cool, in retrospect, that my brain moved so quickly through that intimidation to the sheer joy that I felt at having such an opportunity....to be able to contribute in a meaningful way to Mike’s family’s memorial, and to get to play my songs for a captive audience that included one of my heroes? Awesome. So we played. And I think we did all right. The day was perfect, and Felix and Mark were lovely, and in between songs, guests introduced themselves and read email tributes to OJ from folks who couldn’t make the service. It was so obvious that colliding with OJ’s unstoppable spirit had been a turning point in so many of their lives. She inspired people. It was awesome to be a part of such a celebration. Before I played “Crashing Through,” Mike told the story of how we met and came to get to know one another. He said that the words to the song meant something different to him after his mother died. I sang, “Baby, where’d you get those crying eyes” in the opening line of the song, and he heard the voice of his mom. I can easily say that being able to connect with Mike and his family through the writing of this song feels like the most meaningful musical contribution I’ve made to this crazy world so far. And just when it couldn’t get any better, Stevie Wonder’s keyboard was set up, and he was behind it, and Mike was whispering to me, “Stevie wants you to sing Amazing Grace with him in C.” There was some mic confusion, and Stevie came up to my mic with his harmonica. He spoke first. He spoke about losing his mother, Lula Mae, about a year ago. He said he hadn’t been able to find a light in the dark, but that now he felt like the good that had come out of her death was his ability to help Mike through his grief. He talked about his mom’s combination of protectiveness and insistence that he be independent. Mike’s mom, Ori Jean, was just like that. He spoke of his faith that both OJ and Lula Mae were with us that day in our celebration. Whatever your faith, he said, we all feel the presence of a greater good, and we are brothers and sisters in that greater good. And then he turned to me and said something like maybe Sara will join me in singing Amazing Grace. He began on the harmonica. Park and Felix and Mark fell in on guitar and bass. Stevie played two of the most soulful verses I’ve ever heard on any instrument, and then I took two verses, and then we did one together. I tried to be in the moment. I tried to feel the moment. It was a blast. Then Stevie played and sang “Falling in Love with Jesus” on keys, complete with shout outs to Lula Mae and Ori Jean. Park and I laid our guitars in the grass and leaned back on our elbows, feeling the sun, listening to Stevie Wonder. Afterwards, there was lunch. There were countless kind and interesting people who had traveled near and far to remember OJ. Mike, Stevie, and Frances, Stevie’s bodyguard, sat at a table with Mike’s wife, Jennifer, and other close family. The youngest children flocked to Stevie, finding spots close to him, touching his arms. He was so gracious. I wonder if children are often drawn to him. Mike seemed to have the same sway, even with his own kids. Park made the comment that you know you’re doing something right as a parent if your teenage kids want to hang out with you. Post-lunch, there was a brief slideshow of OJ’s life. Afterwards, I took my opportunity to say hello to Stevie. We had a hilarious conversation where I confessed I had filmed him on the sly a couple years ago when I had the chance to be backstage at one of his shows. He laughed. He asked me my sign. I asked him his. I got confused and thought Park had the same sign, which he does not, all of which led Stevie to believe he and my husband had the same birthday. Oops....maybe I was overly excited. Turns out he’s May 13th, and Park is April 13th. He asked me if I wrote the songs I had played. He said they were good songs. He told me I sing like I mean it. I almost cried. We had another campfire that night after most of the guests had gone. We played songs we didn’t know, and Mike’s twin 11-year old nieces did cheers and songs they learned at drama camp. Lanie and Claire told me later they were thinking of starting an all-girl band. Lanie was picking up the electric bass, but they were stumped on guitar players. One friend had tried and decided it was too hard. Still, they were tossing around band names, and the current frontrunner was “The Hulk.” Awesome. We felt like part of the family. The next morning, everyone geared up to go, and I felt like I had spent a month with them instead of two days. Rick and Mike (and Inca) rode with us back into San Francisco, where we were spending the night and Mike was catching a flight out to Australia (which is why Miguel stayed at home). After barely getting Rick to the airport on time, Mike and Park and I rode the cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. We walked and talked, stopping only for huge ears of roasted corn that we sprinkled with lemon pepper and ate by the water. It was a good weekend. www.crashingthrough.com |
    |
    |
|
|
