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Dave Layton I first noticed Mick's glow as soon as I said, “How ya doin.” “Oh Bingo, this is incredible, just incredible,” he replied. Later he said, “I can't believe all these people are doing this.” The glow pulsed. It drifted serene when he played mandolin with others. It became a beacon when he and Dean performed. I'd never heard his singing so powerful or playing so inspired. When we all stood up thundering our applause, he was framed by the Northern Lights.
Bill Mort and I had the honor of taking Mick home. In the car, he still glowed with energy absorbed from all the great performers and friends who'd been there for him. I asked. him, “You've gigged with all those players haven't you?” “Yep -- well a few I played on the same bill with, and have always admired. Like distant cousins in a GREAT BIG Family..” he beamed. He began to elaborate, but great jazz on the radio caught his attention and our conversation shifted. So we cruised the streets of Chicago's North side enjoying good jazz and good company. Mick became our tour-guide. When we passed a beautiful sprawling cathedral he said, “That’s the church where I was christened.” As we passed streets with clean solid old row houses that were little changed in 60 years, he said, “This is where I grew up. I did all my terrorizing here.” I imagined him as the local Dennis-the-Menace. After we dropped off Greg, a Chicago friend, who we gave a ride home,. Mick said, “I got to get home and shoot up [insulin].” The glow briefly flickered In true “Last One of the Night People” fashion, Mick had us stop up to play a few more tunes before the night could end. So we went into his hotel, a building out of film noir, right down to the decades of cigarette smoke embedded in the hallways. When he played his guitar, his tight little room with its shared bathroom, tiny sink, new portable fridge and microwave was the best place a person could want to be. When we prepared to leave, he said, “I could die right now and I'd die happy.” “Ya well that's not going to happen. There're too many people who want you around,” Bill replied. “That's for sure,” Mick grinned. The glow remained even as his physical energy faded for the night. The glow was actually a reflection of the energy Mick had gained from the day’s events. That energy will become the strength and inspiration he will need to endure the ordeals ahead. The benefit produced a good chunk of change, but it is only a fraction of the value of the power he gained from the music and friendships. Still, that energy will wane. The unending ordeals of insulin shots and dialysis will take a toll. The good news is that whenever we get together with Mick he gets a recharge. I saw that last summer at Willow. Whenever a player joins him for a set or a jam, whenever a friend calls, visits or emails, whenever we come into his life or invite him into ours, his energy banks charge up a little more, and so do ours.. We have the power to keep Mick charged. And, if we do, we can get a charge from his glowing music for years to come. |