Roger Zee Memoirs
2017 Fame 03 02/13/21
The "Winds of Fame" purr gentle and sweet. In an instant, Kaboom! An unstoppable tornado of torment and destruction. Requires quite the skill set to handle. One I definitely lack, LOL! On Sunday 03/12/17, the Westchester Journal News drops the article on my "Five Day Heart Attack" and my life yet again turns on a dime! One minute, I'm "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," the next, people fall at my feet praising the "Every Man" who stiff arms the Grim Reaper's "Hand of Fate." Welcome to another excerpt from my memoirs, "Life and Times of a Pandemic Musician." B-|
First things first. I need to get comfortable with people stopping me everywhere -- congratulating, hugging, and pawing me all over. Doesn't bother me in the beginning. But I soon catch colds from all the physical contact. The doctors warn me about coughing and sneezing as that will stretch or tear out my stitches. Not so gentle hugs can really hurt! After catching my second cold, I institute a policy of fist bumping instead of hand shakes. I also start taking the side streets in my neighborhood to duck out of the spotlight ;-)
On the positive tip, attendance at the Thursday Victor's Jam I run with Rudy Feinauer in Hawthorne, NY shoots through the roof. Especially after various radio stations including 107.1 The Peak | WXPK-FM begin broadcasting my White Plains Hospital (WPH) commercial. How surreal to get stuck in traffic while listening to the radio continuously extoll my virtues. And what did I really do? Just simply refused to roll over and die! =^_^=
Once again, I struggle to find meaning in my life. An ancient Chinese phrase, "Death by a thousand small cuts," constantly pops into my head. Almost everything I love lies stripped away. Ignoring diabetes leads to heart failure. No more red meat, pizza, barbecue, potatoes, bread except for whole wheat or rye. No more white rice, just brown. Only whole wheat pasta. No more cookies or ice cream. And no more fruit or sweet juice. To quote Jim Morrison, "I eat more chicken any man ever seen!" Must exercise prodigiously, religiously, or just die. Lastly, no intimate female contact until full recovery. What's a guy to do! ;-]
A few years back, I retired from my computer programming career. Now I find myself with lots of time on my hands to ponder the cosmos and my purpose in it, LOL! So I fill my days practicing bass, writing music reviews and interviews, hosting live music on my White Plains Cable/Internet show "The Working Musician", and going to music jams and clubs. As my want, I focus on meeting ladies. But due to my fragile health, immediately fall into the effing "Friend Zone." Even after I heal, guess no woman wants to risk me dropping dead on top or beneath her! Gee, and I thought chicks dig scars... >:\
To top it off, anger and greed overtake me. Start obsessing how everyone but me's making money on the WPH promotion -- doctors, ad agencies, photographers, videographers, etc. Finally I call up Ms. Lopez, head of the WPH publicity department, and ask why can't I get paid. She answers that if people found out they reimbursed me, no one would believe the ads. What can I say? She makes a good point... :-(
But what do I really think? The shock and awe of the whole heart attack/celebrity thing starts to wear thin. The initial euphoria eventually follows a natural emotional progression into sadness, then anger. I do my best to fight it off, but often it overwhelms me and I simply withdraw. D:<
The next Fall/Winter, WPH decides to re-run the same promotion on the radio and magazine because they performed so well! Don't think they ever actually take down the huge digital display of Rudy Feinauer and myself hanging from the ceiling of The Westchester Mall in downtown White Plains (see top photo.) I begin to perk up, meet a woman, and we start spending serious time together. Life's good! I'm on a roll. And then I go for my annual physical and they find a major prostate issue! 8-O
Today's the day the U.S. Senate renders the verdict on Donald Trump's second impeachment trial. Despite to me the overwhelming evidence, no one expects a conviction. Frankly, I'm just glad to leave this all behind. Let's get vaccinated and move forward so I can finally bust out of my year-long, self-imposed apartment lockdown! Yet again, I reach for my trusty, Lake Placid Blue Mexican Fender Jazz bass. But this time, I imagine Norah Jones cooing and licking my ear, "Come Away with Me," while I lovingly caress my instrument's lovely neck and learn the bass parts to the album of the same name. One <3
YouTube - Come Away with Me - Norah Jones
©2021 Roger Zee