Holiday Surprise

The Weekly Journal



You'll have to take my word that this is Brent and I at the first Cherry Hill East Folk Festival back in 1976. I also produced the show. It became an annual tradition for over a decade.


December 11, 2006

It's the season to be jolly, to reach out to loved ones as well as to those who might not be so beloved. We shouldn’t need a reason to let those we care about know how much we appreciate them, but we do. Maybe Christmas isn't such a bad thing, even if the jingle of the holidays is more about the sound of cash registers than sleigh bells.

I'm a better giver than receiver. But here comes another holiday season with me still struggling to make ends meet. I hope that my actions throughout the year will make up for not buying many presents. It feels cheesy to even say that, but that's the way it is.

My situation is by choice, not necessity, and those that know me well, understand that. They respect what I'm doing and why. And that means more than any gifts I might get.

Having said that, I was the recipient of an amazing act of generosity this week. One of my oldest and dearest high school friends -- Brent Marshall Hess, sent me a beautiful electric guitar. It was surprising and quite touching. All too often gifts are given out of obligation or with anticipation of something in return -- this was a selfless act from the heart.

Back in the day, a crowd used to hang out after school at his house. His folks were divorced. Mom worked and didn't get home until six. It was party central. I spent many a hazy afternoon playing guitar, listening to music, smoking pot and kissing girls at his place.

A few weeks ago I wrote about camping out for a '75 Who show. Brent and I spent a night on the steps of the Spectrum for the 2nd Who show, based on what we discovered the next day, was an unfound rumor.

After high school Brent moved to Michigan for college. I attended Syracuse. I made my way through Canada for a spring break visit. We caught an amazing Johnny Winter/Muddy Waters concert. One day we were stuck somewhere, hitchhiking. It was freezing with two-feet of snow on the ground. The sky was heavy and gray. The winds kicked up. I said something snotty. He said something back. It could have been the other way around, but either way, it didn't take long for the two of us to start slugging it out. Later that night, when we got back to his dorm, we smoked a joint, drank a few beers, and strummed guitar.

We both dropped out of college. I ended up in California. He returned home to New Jersey. Then we lost contact.

Six years later I was in San Francisco on a job interview. I was late and lost and in a panic. I walked into a building for directions. I entered an office on the first floor and asked the receptionist for help. Brent was behind the desk, doing some carpentry work. When he heard my voice, he stood. Instant recognition. We couldn't believe it. What were the odds?

Brent was a good carpenter, but he wanted more out of life. In his mid-thirties, he decided to go back to school to become a veterinarian. It was a gutsy move. I was impressed that he was willing to suck it up to make such a major life change.

I was at his wedding four years ago. I got to see his Mom and his sister. I hadn't seen them in over twenty years.

Brent's now a partner in a practice in Long Beach. He's married with two kids. He still finds a little time to strum guitar. Last May he came to see me read at Orange Coast College. And this weekend he sent me the guitar. I think this is his way of supporting me, giving me the encouragement to keep going. I do feel a bit awkward accepting such a gift, given how many in the world are in much greater need. But it was a wonderful, kind and loving gesture, just the sort of thing I needed to pick me up this holiday season. I really appreciated it.

I hope everyone reading this is as lucky as I am to have such a good friend. Thanks Brent. I love you.

Happy Holidays everyone.





Here's the guitar that arrived over the weekend -- she's a beauty and sounds great.