Sonny Rollins doesn’t play anymore because he can’t.
But there was a time when he stepped out of the jazz spotlight voluntarily, because he felt he wasn’t living up to his own musical expectations.
Rollins spent the next two years playing to the sky from the Williamsburg Bridge, spanning the East River in New York City. And 60 years ago this month, he returned to the studio for a session that led to his comeback album, “The Bridge.”
“What made me withdraw and go to the bridge was how I felt about my own playing,” says Rollins, now 91. “I knew I was dissatisfied.”
Waiting on the “provider” at urgent care. Is it just me, or does “The Provider” sound like some sort of third-tier Marvel superhero?
One of the sad things about modern medicine is the questions you get asked.
It used to be, “Where does it hurt?” Or, “What brings you to see us today?”
Now it’s “Do you feel safe in your home?”
As long as I can see the wife in my peripheral vision, and both of her hands are empty, sure.
Or, “Are you depressed?”
Not until you asked me that question.
Another popular one seems to be, “Have you had any other falls recently?”
I didn’t fall this time. I broke my ankle running and then hopped around on the good leg, screaming all of George Carlin’s “Seven Words” in no particular order. Then I limped home, got in the car, and drove a few blocks to visit some people who seem to enjoy probing strangers for weakness and financial information.
While we’re discussing modern medicine, here’s another observation about crutches. Not only do they still not come equipped with cup holders, shocks, or hydraulic disc brakes as standard equipment, but no matter where or how you park them, like Doc Sarvis’s bicycle, they still slide immediately to the floor.
And finally, if like me you suddenly seem to have some time on your hands that desperately needs filling, scope out this fine interview with Sonny Rollins. He’s had to give up the sax due to illness, but he hasn’t given up, y’feel me?
The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
—— Henry Van Dyke, "Fisherman's Luck"
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