Angel Hours

And just as I typed that last post, I look at my phone and it's 4:44 - the repeating of numbers that signifies one's guardian angel. You really do always find me, don't you, my little sweetheart?

As I Dream of You, We Dream Together

Little sweetheart, even before the album took its name, I called this photo of us "Dream Together". It's      been another emotional difficult year, as I write these words on its last day. But my love for and faith in you remains steadfast. Even this very blog has been difficult this year, with technical issues and the resources to maintain. But even if posting here was light, my thoughts fly to you. You're in my work, you're in my heart, you keep me going. You always liked to say, rather than we "met", that you "found" me. Please keep finding me, little sweetheart. With love - your Michael

Also at Christmastime

Here's the video of the Christmas song I wrote for you many years ago - "It's Christmas, Sweetheart". With love & faith... your Michael 

December 24th

Little sweetheart, it's Christmas Eve. I'm so glad I got to spend Christmas with you! I keep many of the customs you taught me and your very first Christmas letter to me - that came with the beautiful blue and grey scarf you made and gave me that year - hangs in a frame here over my desk. This picture was taken of you on our roof on a snowy day just before Christmas that year. Thinking of you tonight and always. Happy Christmas, little sweetheart!

 

First Snow of the Year

Little sweetheart, we took this picture together on the roof just a little bit before Christmas in 2008. You'd just closed the Boston run of Rock n Roll and came here for a week before flying to California to spend the holidays with your folks. A black and white version of this photo was our Christmas card for many years and I still think of it every season. We were sitting here together in the front room on the old plaid couch and noticed that it was snowing, so we bundled up and went to the roof. Merry Christmas, little sweetheart. 

More for You (always)

Little sweetheart, I try not to post too much about our ongoing project, Bipolar Explorer. Although it very much remains ours - you are, after all, its co-founder and all subsequent releases are of, for and about you - I try to focus solely on you. 

That said, we do have an new album out today, our 12th, another double-album - Memories of the Sky. You are featured as always and also very much the inspiration for it. It's been very warmly received. 

For you, always... 

 

November 13th (2024)

Happy Birthday, my little sweetheart. Love you forever.

 

 

The Last Day of October

Little sweetheart, surely Christmas was your favorite holiday - you always spent it with your wonderful family and included me once we'd met and it was always glorious and fun. But I think a close second for you as a favorite was Halloween. 

For different reasons, of course, since they are vastly different occasions - just for a start Christmas spreading out over days if not a week and Halloween coning down to single night in October (just two weeks away from your birthday). 

What I think you liked most about Halloween was its theatricality. You weren't much of a horror film buff or anything but you loved the idea of costumes and fancy dress. And candy! Ha! You loved candy! There was something so very childlike - in the most charming way - about your continued love of the holiday. 

I'd kind of lost sight of it until we met. I wasn't much of one for parties or the parade (quite a famous and altogether fabulous one here in New York, downtown in The Village). But in 2008 I happened to be in LA. Old DC friends - they'd actually gone to ACT - had a theatre company there called The Road and they were doing two of my plays - Real Real Gone and Seven Pages Unsigned - in a twin bill. You would've been there too except that you were doing Rock n Roll at ACT and about to transfer the production to Boston's Huntington Theatre (where I would join you just before your birthday). 

You were packing up and flying to Boston just before I was finishing up in LA. My friends lived in Van Nuys so the airport in Burbank was closer and easier to travel to than LAX so that's where I departed from. It was October 31 - Halloween. When I arrived just before my fight, all the attendants were in costume and passing out candy - the atmosphere giddy and light. I couldn't wait to tell you about it and it was then that I truly wondered when on earth did I go off of Halloween? It was delightful! 

I needed you to show me. I needed you for so many things, little sweetheart. You brought such light and joy into my life. It's hard sometimes now to find it but if I think of you as you were and don't fall into despair over your absence, I do. I do find the joy that you shared with me. 

Happy Halloween, little sweetheart!

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 8

Little sweetheart, on our last day in Ireland, after we said goodbye to our friends in Kilcrohane - already making plans to return for Johnny's birthday the following spring - we stopped by the heritage site (sort of like a national park) down the coast at Gougane Barra. There's a beautiful forest there and a lovely tiny church, where we stepped inside and I took this picture of you. We hadn't made plans to stop for more than an hour or so but you were so taken by the place, little sweetheart, we went into the little hotel nearby and got more info. You very much wanted to come back and spend the night, so we could walk the trails and get to know this lovely spot better. It became another of our plans. We had so many, didn't we, my little sweetheart? 

I believe time is something we don't really know while we're mortal. And that when I pass, I'll find you, of course, and find that we can be in any place, any moment we loved, together and for as long as we like. Is it something like that, little sweetheart? Will you tell me eveything I need to know about The Forever when I get there and run to you? 

With faith and love... your Michael

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 7

Little sweetheart, at the end of this day and another epic hike, you paused to sit on picnic table at the beginning of the trail, where we had returned. This is another photo I have a huge framed print of. It hangs in the red table room, here, with many of your things. Love you forever.

 

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 6

Little sweetheart, one night we drove to Bantry - the closest thing to a city that is out on the scenic remove that is the Sheep's Head Peninsula. In the high tourist season of July and August, it's actually rather bustling but on our visit this October night it was very quiet indeed. Our favorite place to eat in Bantry was a lovely little pub/restaurant called The Snug. Kris and I were surprised when the three of us arrived there. It was always so popular that we'd never actually ever gotten to sit at a table. We always sat at the bar. But tonight we basically had the entire place to ourselves. You loved the it! Perhaps indicative of this photo licking your fingers between bites! And you're wearing the double silver rings I bought for you soon after we first met and fell in love. I had a matching pair. Joy had made them. So, I ordered these for you and gave them to you on our very first time together in London. It made me so proud that you wore them always. This night in Bantry still seems so special and blessed. I remember that when we walked back outside and into the night, the bay was full of swans. We stood on the little footbridge and gazed at them for a long while. With love, your Michael. 

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 5

Little sweetheart, this is one of my favorite pictures of you, not only from our trip, but maybe ever. When we got all the way out to the lighthouse, there was a guardrail and a sign saying "Do Not Cross". True to form, you disregarded it and settled yourself onto these little steps to get a better view of the sweeping vista of the rocky coast and wide expanse of the Atlantic stretching into the horizon. You turned back, beckoning me to join you and I did, right after snapping this shot. I think you know why this image remains so powerful to me, little sweetheart. Even as I write this, a large, poster size print of this photo hangs framed above me here at my desk. Thank you for calling to me, my angel. I know we'll be together again, and forever, soon.

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 4

Little sweetheart, the most epic of our hikes was taking the trail out at the end of the peninsula toward the lighthouse. It was beautiful and a fine day for a walk. It certainly provided scenery for some wonderful photographs of you. Here is the two of us quite far along. Indeed, you can see the water, the Atlantic Ocean in the background!

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 3

Little sweetheart, on one of our walks near the bay, we found this little stone staircase leading down to the water. Perhaps a place to dock a small dinghy or maybe spot a little red-haired mermaid!

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 2

Little sweetheart, one of good friends in the village was a man named Johnny. We dropped by his house to see him on the second day of our visit - you, me, Kris & Joy - and then the five of us walked down to Eileen's pub in the town square for drink. That's Kris on the left, Johnny & Joy on the right, and you, of course, beaming and gorgeous, in the foreground. Me? Taking the picture! Ha!

14 Years Ago in Ireland, pt 1

Little sweetheart, 14 years ago was our lovely trip together to Ireland. From when I very first met you and told you of my visits there, you had asked me to take you and in October of 2010, we finally had a chance to go. We traveled with our London friends, Kris and Joy, flying to Cork City and then driving a rental car up the coast to the little village of Kilcrohane, where I'd often stayed before. We rented a cottage for the week and went off on adventures together. I'll share a few pictures as I like to do here each year, of our time. This first one was taken down near Doneen Pier after one of our epic walk. Love you forever.

The Inner Sunset

Little sweetheart, most of the time when we were in your apartment in San Francisco were either alighting in your kitchen at the little breakfast nook or in your room with its crimson curtains and duvet cover. There was an entire living room, of course, but those two were our preferred spots to linger. Sometimes, though the light pouring through the windows in that room drew us to sofa - or like this - to the dining table, where you'd crawl into my lap and take me in your arms. I can still remember exactly how that felt. Thank you for finding me, my love.

But For You...

It's been a sad life, little sweetheart, but your presence and our tragically brief years together still burn like the sun.

You saved me in life and you guide me through the rest. I know that I will find you again - tears streaming down my face when I get to the Other Side, run to you and collect you in my arms. It was all a mistake - except for you. You are the why.

Let me do my best work until that day. I know it's want you want because you literally send it to me in dreams! I'm sure the other angels must get a little jealous, having transcended this dumbass planet.

Angel 435: "Hey! You can't do that".

Summer: "No, it's alright - I cleared it with St Peter. And Michael will be here soon, anyway. We have a show next week (heaven hours are unknowable, might be in 20 years)! Ask St Christopher!"

Love you forever.

 

Maybe a surprise...

Little sweetheart, this may come as a bit of a surprise (or maybe not) but I got ordained today! It was actually Sylvia who suggested it. She'd read about a non-denominational diocese called The Universal Life Church that has a very simple procedure and is often used by lay people so they can become officiants for things like weddings. When I thought about it, I realized that a couple of people we know from theatre - your friend Coy and a director friend of mine, Bob Moss - had done it themselves. I think my friend Caroline Swift (also from the theatre) had done so too. Anyway, yeah... yiu can call me Father Michael, if you're so inclined, little sweetheart!

Edna Passes

Little sweetheart, I'm sure you already know because you probably just spotted her in the cafeteria and dropped your tray but Edna O'Brien passed away today. 

It was her adaptation of her own first novel, "The Country Girls " into the play Tir na nOg - a difficult work, written more like a screenplay but directed faithfully and brilliantly by our friend, Artistic Director, Chris Smith - at San Francisco's Magic Theatre that was how we met, little sweetheart. 

The unpredictable event that brought you and I together and twinned our souls. 

I know you will be the kindest person she meets in Heaven. We are our souls. And yours is the purest among them. I know you'll greet her warmly. Thinking of you...

Also from the 4th...

Little sweetheart, also from the Oregon trip - we went on a long river cruise. It was July but breezy on the river and you are all bundled up in your hoodie, just your gorgeous face peeking out under enormous sunglasses.

In Oregon on the 4th...

Little sweetheart, I remembering today our trip to the Oregon coast with your family and what great fun we had. It was just less than six weeks since my mom had unexpectedly passed and your folks were so incredibly kind to me (as always). I can't imagine having gone through it without you by my side. You kept me aloft with your love (as always).

 

 

Throw Back Black n White

A favorite newly found picture of you here, little sweetheart, taken with one of those disposable black & white cameras I used to keep handy in the pre-iPhone days. You're in your PJs sitting at my desk. Love you forever.

Flag Day 2024

Little sweetheart, today is a funny little holiday called Flag Day. I always used to see it on the calendar and joke about it but it's kind of neat in its timing - almost the midpoint of the year. I guess the Summer Solstice is more like it but it's halfway through the sixth month. 

Anyway, I wrote a song called "Flag Day", as you'll remember, that year I was out in the Bay Area. You immediately came up with the backing vocals and later that year we recorded it for what was meant to be our first EP but wound up becoming Of Love and Loss. A few years later, re-imagining the songs from that album and including new spoken word narrative and underscoring, we released Sometimes in Dreams. This is that album's version - the Summer Dream version and below is the video for it. 

Thinking of you on this day and everyday. With all my love forever...

About May 23

Little sweetheart, my mom died on this day 14 years ago. I've been thinking about it, of course - how you helped me and how cruel it was to lose you, too, just 10 months later. 

My little sweetheart, I don't post here enough - I'm working on our book and our music, but I'm tortured by the idea that I have not kept up this blog, too. I resolve to do better. In all things. 

Below are my notes about my mom. Love you forever. 

MAY 23rd, 2010:
14 years ago I was in London when I got the news, by email in the middle of the night, that my Mom had died.

I'd been up late, excited about starting rehearsals in the morning at The Finborough Theatre. Wilson Milam was directing my play "Seven Pages Unsigned" to help kickoff the theatre's 30th anniversary series - The Vibrant Festival. I'd only just arrived in London the day before. We - Wilson, I and the play - were featured in TimeOut and I sent the link to my mom. It was one of the last emails I ever sent to her.

I was still sending rewrites to Wilson and the actors that night because that was very much Wilson & me, changes right up to curtain - I had his new notes and had been writing all day. Summer was marked for the play, too - she'd read in Seattle and NYC, where we hoped to stage productions but she couldn't make this trip. It was still her part, wherever it finally went up and she knew that. No full production was going up without her - bottom line, understood. But this was a great development opportunity for Wilson and I to work on the play. And all three of us loved The Finbourough. Summer was keen to hear how it all went. And we had plans in NYC as soon as I got back in June - recording sessions for the new BPX record in Brooklyn.
 

Wilson and I cast a mostly RADA-centric cast, several of whom had been in my play DC at RADA two seasons before.

I was staying at my lifelong friends Binky St Joy and Kris's flat in Kentish Town. They were up in Wales for a few days but coming back for Vibrant. I'd see them in a day or two. I was alone in the flat and remember emailing and I think even texting Wilson (on my bottom-of-the-line free with a cell-plan VodaFone- Summer got one, too, from Orange, when we were last in London together, a few months before -we had to remember to pack and charge them the moment we got to England!) as we chatted about the play before I finally went to bed. There was a documentary about "Exile on Main Street" on Channel 4 and he was watching it, too, a huge Stones fan.
I finally went to bed and tried to sleep for a few hours, over-excited about the first day of rehearsal in the morning. I put Radio 4 on my MacBook and tried to get some rest. I slept fitfully, waking at some point and decided to check email.

My brother had written me in all caps: EMERGENCY! YOU MUST COME HOME NOW! Puzzled, I wrote back that it was after 2am, I was in London and what was up? Was Mom okay? "NO! COME HOME!" was the answer.

I couldn't call out on the landline because I didn't know how, so I woke Joy and Kris in Wales, dialing out on my UK cell to ask, saying I thought my mom was in hospital or perhaps, unthinkably, dead. I guess Joy told me how to dial out to the US. I don't remember but she must have. I don't remember talking to my brother but I must have. I do remember calling Summer and getting her voicemail. It was still early evening in SF and I didn't hear back for half an hour - she'd been at the theatre.

I think I've said the rest before - I told her the news and she immediately burst into tears and then told me to get on Skype. I did and there was my little sweetheart, the love of my life - thank god she and Mom got to know one another! "I want to see you drink an entire glass of water", she said, eventually. "And try to sleep. My mom is here with me and we will get you on a flight home. Sleep and I will watch you, I will watch you while you sleep", she said, my laptop remaining open.

Summer and Linda got me a flight and even booked a car to take me to Heathrow in the morning, a few hours away. At the airport, I texted Wilson - they'd stage the play without me - and wrote my mom's eulogy. Summer flew herself to Detroit. She and Linda had got me to JFK and I'd fly again the next morning- Summer wrote me, while I was in flight - to Detroit Metro to meet her.
She had brought my suit, hanging in her closet in SF. She slept that night in the airport, making friends with everyone working the overnight shift. When I saw her, I ran to her. I always did but this time remains especially burned into memory. I saw her before she saw me. I gathered her in my arms.

She'd brought a purple dress and my suit and we took them to the only drying cleaning place in town for a press. Later that day after my brother arrived and we talked, it was clear that he had no idea what to do. Summer was on it. My mom had a cottage on Lake Leeanne. She had hoped I would bring Summer out to see it and we thought that we would but, we ran out of time. I drove her out to see it. Summer loved the cottage. I imagined how much my Mom would've loved to see her there and pictured her any minute coming out of the house with a tray - "how about some root beer floats?" When we drove back, I saw an ice cream stand and took Summer for that very thing. That was the first day.

Summer was with me for the entire week as we planned my mom's funeral. I could not have done a thing without her. Her love was/is like the fucking sun. She saved me. My mom, more than anyone saw and knew that.

10 months later, Summer herself unbelievably, tragically passed.

I wasn't over my mom's death, honestly, when the second tragedy wiped out everything.
I once nearly drowned in the Atlantic. The first wave knocked me down but subsequent ones hit me with more force, making it impossible to see the surface and drawing me out to sea, toward my death. When I emerged, no one on the shore noticed, as if it hadn't happened.
I dunno. I guess your parents are meant to proceed you in death.

I don't think I was quite done mourning - I'm sorry, Mom - but losing Summer... what can I say? It was, it is, too much.

I miss my mom. I miss my little sweetheart. Love you both forever. Grief is the price we pay for love, yes?

Thank god for you both. And I know I will see you again - Faith! - soon and forever.

With love & faith....

Saved, healed, changed

Little sweetheart, this was taken right after the DCfC show you took me to in Sacramento on my birthday weekend. We'd just arrived back home to Davis and you took this picture of us in the kitchen. This photo is another of my favorites of us because I can not only see but actually feel how happy I am. How happy you made me. Our friend Neal told me that after I met you I had changed so much that even my face looked different. That's how much you saved and healed me. Love you forever.

On This Day

Little sweetheart, today is my birthday. My favorite birthday ever was spent with you, of course. We had a few days away from everyone and everything and retreated to the beautiful house in Davis to spend it together. You had tickets for us to see DCfC in Sacramento and on the day itself you made some ridiculously complicated and absolutely delicious chocolate cupcakes for us. Here you are providing the final touch, drizzling white chocolate sauce over each of them - and they're all HUGE, like each cakes in their own right! I think about how happy I was that day, that weekend, those years, and my heart surges with love. 

On my birthday I always also remember now the words I wrote and said for you on that day three years later. A recording of it is here. 

Thank you, my angel. Love you forever.

March 30 - The Great Vigil

Saturday night of Holy Week concludes with another service I never knew of until a little over a decade ago, little sweetheart, called The Great Vigil.

After Tenebrae and Good Friday, the sanctuary of the church is left in darkness. On Holy Saturday, sometime between dusk that night and dawn on Easter Sunday, the tradition was to light a bonfire, an Easter Fire, outside the church, from which a single candle, the Pashcal Candle is lit and then brought into the sanctuary to light the rest of the candles in the church.  

It’s observed a bit differently from church to church but both the one I first saw at St Thomas and the subsequent ones at Trinity have been in two parts - starting very solemn still in semi-darkness for the first hour around 11pm and then literally brightening as the Paschal candle is brought in, the lights returned - and at Trinity - everyone ringing bells. It signifies Resurrection and the arrival of Easter (when before sunrise) sometime just after midnight.

Somehow, little sweetheart, going through the darkest parts of Holy Week seem to be the most resonant to me. I think it may be a place for my grief to be grounded, a quietness found and a resolve to keep the faith that you are forever and we will be together again, that you will, as always, find me.

With all my love, your Michael.

Holy Week - Good Friday

Little sweetheart, today is another of the days of Holy week that I always observe - Good Friday - and when I was active in that lovely church I told you about, West Side Collegiate, I was invited three years in a row to prepare remarks, reflections for the Good Friday service. The last year I participated, the service was recorded and later uploaded to YouTube. 

My faith is very grounded in the love we shared and my belief that I will be with you again, soon and forever. So, naturally, I speak of you in this address. I'm posting here below. 

Love you forever.

March 28 - Tenebrae

Another one of the Holy Week services that I find really resonant, little sweetheart, is something called Tenebrae. I’d never attended one or even knew about it until the first one I went to at St. Thomas, in 2012, I think. It’s usually held on either Holy Wednesday or Holy Thursday and is a service of readings and choral pieces.

Not unlike Taize, it’s a candlelight service and as it goes on, one of the candles in the candle stand on the altar is extinguished at the conclusion of each reading until the last, when the church is left in darkness and a very theatrical moment occurs, The Strepitus - which is Latin for “great noise”. The choir bang their hymnals on the railings, the organ plays loud and discordantly, all in a kind of protest at the darkening of the light. Then, one of the ministers or priests comes forward with one last candle, still burning, that had been hidden. And all depart in silence.

West End observed Tenebrae and I went each year. Since the pandemic, like with most of these services now, little sweetheart, I watch the one from Trinity online, as I did tonight. Thinking of you, as always, and saying our prayer.
 

For You, Little Sweetheart, Forever

Words for, of and about you, my little sweetheart. Forever. Love you forever. 

The Choral Text Passage

To The Other Half of The Sky

 

Thirteen

Thirteen years, my little sweetheart. Thinking of you - the other half of my soul - on this day and every day. And knowing in my heart that we will be together again and forever in the blink of an eye. With all my love forever.

 

February 14 - Ash Wednesday

Little sweetheart, even before your tragic passing, I could come to think more deeply about faith. I’m sure I’ve told how moved I was going to the sort of High Episcopal services, especially Evensong, at St Paul’s in London and later at St Thomas here in New York. 

I really began to embrace them ever more in the months and years after. I think it was just what I needed but even so, no one ever approached me there and I felt I was more of a solemn, mournful observer than a participant. 

Eventually I discovered a lovely little church - one of the oldest in the city - about 30 blocks north of here: West End Collegiate. I first began attending their Wednesday night Taize service - an hour-long program of prayer and meditation and almost chant-like hymns held in their sanctuary, lit almost entirely be candlelight. Later, I began to go to some of the other services as well. I found it a good way to quiet my mind and to also to think of and speak quietly to you. 

The pandemic sort of ended the tenure of the clergy and parishioners I had gotten to know in the four or five years I attended West End but it instilled in me some practices and observations that I continue to embrace. Holy Week is one of them. And the period leading up to it - Lent - begins today with Ash Wednesday. 

My thoughts, as ever, of you and my heart longs for you. Any occasion, honestly, little sweetheart, that brings me closer to you and undistracted by the mundane struggles of life is a blessing. I hope to keep near you in these weeks ahead and will write more of them. 

With all my love forever… your Michael