Tonight while watching the Netflix Original documentary, Quincy, I found out something interesting I never knew about Chet. While living with Grandpa Charlie in Skyway, Seattle, he met and formed a friendship with Quincy Jones’ mother Sarah Wells Jones.
During an intermission of the Bill Gothard Christian Conference called “Insitute in Basic Life Principles” in 1988 at the Seattle Center, most likely at the Key Arena, while reading his Bible outside on a bench a thin lady sat down next to him and soon a conversation began, mostly about the Bible and God, creating an instant bond between the two. Soon after, Chet began visiting her small apartment downtown where she watched a small boy and girl most days. He remembers the good humor they shared while spending time together despite the age difference and the odd homeless look she seemed to have about her. He also noticed that something was a little off with her at times.
In their conversations, the name of Quincy Jones and his brother Lloyd came up and that’s when Chet realized the connection and wondered why would the mother of Quincy Jones live in such a small run-down apartment, knowing absolutely nothing of the personal history between the two. Sarah Jones seemed to be more proud of Lloyd and his important job at the Komo TV station, mentioning him often in the conversation, while hardly mentioning Quincy.
The relationship lasted about six months while Chet moved on to other things in his life and even though their friendship was short-lived, throughout the years he still thinks about her fondly.
Well, I learn surprising new things every day:)
I hate Mercy Me’s song “I can only imagine”, oh my gosh I can’t stand that song!!!! I may be stepping on some toes here but I’m sure that every single one of you has at least one song which you hate passionately, even if that song is from a Christian genre. Mine is “I can only imagine”, it scrapes my brains with static noise and makes me want to scream in pain.
Christian genre has a tendency to put a sad twist to most songs (even if they have an encouraging message) unless you’re Toby Mac or Mandisa;) Which begs the questions: Are all the Christians in this world miserable? Christians don’t love to dance and have a good time celebrating life? I know that’s not true, but if you were to judge the christian faith by the songs alone you would think that God is the saddest aspect of life, void of fun, a sense of humor and good taste.
There is a time to grieve, a time to encourage, a time to be a shoulder for someone to cry on and there’s a time to simply celebrate!!!!!! To jump up and dance because life is good, not perfect and definitely not void of challenges, but good none-the-less. So here’s a song I can finally get up and dance and thank God for my life, despite the fact that I have an infection that’s scrambling my brain in a galactic amount of pain. However when I listen to these types of songs I smile, I laugh and I keep on telling myself: It’s just pain, Carmen, not the end of the world, just pain.
Hope you enjoy this particular song as much as I am and have a great time dancing through or despite the challenges in your life because life is good:)
Not sure who needs to read these words, but here I go.
For the one that’s hurting, with tears of sorrow and discouragement running down your face and heart, from yet another blow life just hit you with:
Picture the outcome you want and in due time it will come to pass. The road will not be void of pain, struggles, and failures, but it will not be void of success, victory, and hope either. You must fight for the outcome you’re picturing and never doubt you’re not strong enough:)
First picture- article in Hunedoara newspaper done on Alin:)
Second picture; Alin and his twin nieces, Oana’s girls:)
Alin around seven years old:)
Alin in one of his stage costume:)
Every year around this time I began to mourn for Fanu, my little ten year old brother who died a while back. His B-day is in December, but fall brings a whiff of Fanu’s memory with it and my heart cries from such precious loss. To divert my sorrows, I think of my other siblings.
I’ll start with Alin:)
ALIN-the Opera Singer
Second in command, he’s a boss in his own way:) A self made man and a brilliant engineer, his work in Germany is appreciated by many. But its his stage performances that define him for who he is. His love for music was know since early ages of his life. He performs on stage all over the world:) Beethoven is his favorite composer. Alin is a ball of mysteries and he loves it that way:) A natural born intellectual it’s a pleasure having a conversation with him on many subjects, but its his direct and honest opinions that puts a smile on my face every time we talk. He has a diplomatic way of telling you the truth about yourself, without the presents of butt kissing, living you hardly confused of his opinion. He’s a sensitive soul and the loss of Fanu (Alin and Fanu had a special connection the rest of us knew about), his heart fractured quite deeply. One day all will be healed.
Alin, makes me laugh in a way no other human being on this entire planet can do and I know Meleah has a special compartment in her heart reserved for uncle Alin. It is a common feeling many share about him.
His love of travel is well know as he often takes advantage of a nice vacation to go visit a new place on this beautiful planet.
Alin and I spent a summer in the hills of Moldova, at our great grandma, where out of boredom we got often in trouble. Come to think of it, it was my sense of adventure that got us in trouble often followed by his threats. One day, we forgot to close the gate and all great grandma’s chickens ran into the corn field. Panicked, we recruited the help of her neighbor and the town’s well known drunk, but we couldn’t afford to be picky. The poor man, did a fantastic job mumbling instructions to us and after a highly stressful hour or so, we managed to bring back all the chickens. After words, as great grandma came back from the forest carrying a bundle of wood sticks for the evening dinner along side an apron full of freshly picked mushrooms (not my favorite) we acted as everything was well with the world. I’m not sure if the neighbor ever ratted us out, but I’ve never heard a reprimand from my grandma.
Yes, we were quite the pair and Sergiu joined our gang soon after.
Back home I was the cook and Alin was the baker. Boy was he a great baker. He could whip a chec (like a sweet loaf of bread) in no time, but “ciocolata de casa” (homemade chocolate), was and still is his favorite desert. He also loved a piece of bread with tons of butter, and when I say tons I mean tons, and honey. He pretty much lived on that.
I miss Alin every day, but I’m really glad he’s doing so well and one day I’ll get to see him again:)
P.S Alin speaks Romanian, English and German, he also speaks Alin language:)
Next is Sergiu:)
Yesterday, Michael would’ve turned 59 years old.
I remember listening to Michael’s songs from a few neighbor’s boom box speakers, usually blasting loudly from a window ledge while the boom box rolled a cassette tape slowly in one mesmerizing circle letting out beautiful sounds. But for a girl like me, it was the safest way of listening to secular music-called the devil’s music by my father- without getting in trouble. To me, that devil’s music had a happy beat and made your body want to celebrate all day long- a stark comparison to the sad, serious and at times dreary music I heard in church. Being a teenager made Michael’s music that much more desirable. Not speaking English I really botched up the words, only to realize that mistake once my English improved greatly, here in America.
To me, Michael’s music will always remain on the “Top artists” category in my heart, with songs like: Billie Jean, Beat It, Bad, Man in the Mirror, Heal the World, Earth Song, They Don’t Really Care About Us and my favorite Black or White.
What a world we live in today. What a world I lived in yesterday. Why not heal the world? Why not heal the planet? Why bother with the color of our skin while completely ignoring the color of our hearts? I’ve seen pain. I’ve lived pain. I’ve went to the groceries with pain. I’ve joked with pain. I’ve eaten pain. I’ve looked in its eyes and it looked back at me. I saw it’s questions. I saw its despair. I saw its innocent victims. Nothing like the stupid causes I see today screamed out of overly spoiled and bored minds with too many privileges in their laps, causes linked dangerously close to Marxism and Communism, both systems from which tables I actually ate, a poor meal of poisoned foods well frosted with cruelty while void of human value.
Michael’s music videos speak a massage far stronger than most protests done on our streets. His style is uniquely genius. When I watch the “Black or White” music video I smile. There is a beauty- unless blind to it- in our differences. But hateful people choose to see potential dangers in this differences- most of the time dangers real only in one’s hateful and fearful mind- and act in the most cruel of way against its own kind.
Instead screaming your rights -and some are just down right ridiculous and silly issues- why not look around and see who’s in pain and do something! The world is tired of our opinions while starving for our mercy manifested in the action of love. Start with the Man in the Mirror and change will inevitably come. And stop giving power to hateful people with dark and empty souls.
Let’s start helping the ones in pain and we’ll start healing ourselves that way.