Playing At Carnegie Hall

This Saturday morning, while prepping a potato salad for a friend’s birthday picnic, halfway through dicing a green pepper I realized that (in a manner that’s doubtless common for many of us) I’d not taken the time to fully process the major event that had happened the night before.

Thanks to the invitation of the ridiculously gifted & kind Mike McGinnis, I got to be in the orchestra that played the music of Alice Coltrane at Carnegie Hall: a wonderful assemblage of musicians in service of honoring her legacy. It was a joy to experience their artistry as well as that of the incredible Ravi Coltrane, Jeff ‘Tain’ Watts, Robert Hurst, Brandee Younger and Brandon Waddles. The memories of music and camaraderie will linger for a long time.

Someday though, should Isla ask what this experience was like, aside from the music I shall say the following:

Unlike other work spaces where your Daddy was often singled out to present ID, all he had to do to walk through the artist entrance of Carnegie Hall was say his name.

Unlike those times your Daddy was patted down in front of you in North Carolina and Boston (and yes, even Flatbush), his instrument cases searched and upon noticing he was the only one this was being done to with wide, uncharacteristically perturbed eyes you asked ‘why’, unlike those times, no one did that to your Daddy at Carnegie.

Your head on your mother's lap, you fell asleep to the sounds of Flying Lotus ,awoke presumably during a David Virelles solo among an audience where there were so many people who looked like you as well as so many people who looked different but were no less beautiful.

At 5 years old, you made a tie dye dress of your own to go see your Daddy at work and one day, in the will of God, Daddy will put on the $21 Kangol hat he bought 9 months before you were born to come witness the wonderful work you will do: whether that be at Carnegie Hall or in whichever neighborhood that is blessed to be your home.