All the Things You Are

I had a long, but great, weekend. Besides my kids’ usual activities (football, birthday parties for friends), I officiated the wedding of Steve’s cousin AND I got to bring my friend Diana home from the hospital after a lengthy stay. There was a lot of joy associated with both things.

So last night, kind of exhausted and with aching knees (I wore very high heels to the wedding – my 90 year old knees are protesting), I decided to relax and read. If you know me well, you know that I read everything. The subject matter doesn’t really matter – I’ve learned some very interesting things by persisting in reading something that didn’t seem interesting at first. I was listening to Charlie Parker’s song, “All The Things You Are”, but I didn’t really know anything much about his life, so I decided to google him while I got lost in his sounds. What a treat.

I think I’ve written before about the joy of learning someone’s story, but with artists that is often an understatement. To try and understand the path to creative genius is often fascinating and confusing. Artists are often tormented, but their work is so beautiful. It is a puzzle – sort of.

Charlie Parker, or Bird as everyone called him, was one of the most influential jazz musicians ever. The New York nightclub, Birdland, is named after him. He was born in Kansas City, the only child of a frequently absent alcoholic father and a mother who worked nights at Western Union. Charlie did not pick up a saxophone until he was 11 years old, and the high school band director thought Charlie was so terrible, he was kicked out of the band! Briefly, Charlie considered giving up.

Besides growing to be an astonishing musician, Charlie battled an addiction to heroin. He was known to steal and beg in order to get a fix. He was once quoted as saying, “Any musician who says he is playing better either on tea, the needle, or when he is juiced, is a plain straight liar . . . You can miss the most important years of your life, the years of possible creation.” And yet, some of the music he created during his addiction is said to be the most passionate, yet imperfect, jazz ever played. Bird was incredibly intelligent, and his songs reflected his propensity for deep thinking.

Bird died at 34. Since it was 1955, it is not surprising that the circumstances of his death were considered scandalous - a black man found dead in a Park Avenue suite with a white European baroness. When the coroner examined his body, he mistook Charlie for a 60 year old man because of the damage the drugs had done to his system.

Charlie’s life begs me to ask so many questions. Why does great pain lead to great art? Why is it, when people’s inhibitions are numbed away, they are able to access a place of creativity that is otherwise hidden? How does God feel about all the things we are? How can Charlie’s torment offer me so much relaxation?

God obviously made Charlie Parker to be something special, even if Charlie lost his way sometimes. Here is audio of, "All The Things You Are." Enjoy what God made: