personal – Page 20 – Lorin Duckman Today

Keb’ Mo’ in Burlington

Returning from a five-mile walk, I saw Keb’ Mo’ exiting the Mariott Couryard, next door to my home at Westlake. Told him I was a fan: own a Cd, listen on Pandora, saw him in Montreal with Bonny Raitt (cost a fortune and we sat in the upper stratosphere) and then again in Burlington (Row M, orchestra). He played the Flynn on Sunday to a packed house. Listening to him sing about life, love and individuality, made everyone happy.

I asked if he loved his wife as much as he said during riffs between songs. “She’s my whole life. Couldn’t live without her. Only married for seven years, but feel it has been much longer.” He’s as gloriously handsome in person as he is on the stage. Being away from her must be tough.

He rejected my offer to go upstairs to my studio for a portrait. Wondering if he rejected me, because I only had a point and shoot, I told him I was a photographer, after having been a lawyer for over thirty-years. He shared a story about a person he had me who had recently be granted tenure at some institution of learning: “… the guy will spend his whole life in a box and never get out to feel the world.” His comment was just like the themes of his songs, words with a steady blues beat that make you want to do more with who your are and what you have.

But, being me, as we parted, I had to offer constructive criticism. I suggested to him that bass player was great, but the drummer could have done more than just play rhythm.” “That’s the way we do it,” he said. “I like the blues, dude, but I am a jazz guy,”I said. “Drummers can do melody too.”

Kim Mason, Dead

Kim Mason died of an overdose of anti-depressants. She danced with death many times trying to rid her body of evil spirits. Always loving and kind. People couldn’t help her enough, though Howard and others tried. The demons were just too scary. In and out of places. Always adjusting her meds. They needed an exorcism.

I knew her. Met her in Rutland, years ago, or maybe it was Bennington. Don’t remember. But we were friends for ten years or more. She’d hug and kiss me when she saw me on the street. Sometimes when I’d ask how she was doing, she’d put her head on my shoulder and cry, leaving her makeup and her tears all over my face.

A long time ago, I introduced Sharon to her. Kim would ask how Sharon was doing, even if I hadn’t seen her for a long time. She and Mark were together for 35 years. How does he go on? How do any of us?

Sharon and Lorin Duckman

So, I develope a photograpy business and live an evolving marriage. People still want to define us, err me and her. Just today. And you don’t get to know what we talked about or what we belive in.

Marc Madarazzo – Former IBM Employee

So, my friend Marc Madarazzo lost his job at IBM. He has “rocket scientist” smarts, an MIT degree and and ability to see the future. No jobs here for him, yet. How much talent sits on the sidelines?

Larkin Forney Lived a Life

Ten years ago I worked as a Public Defender in Middlebury. People in custody were kept in a basement holding area that allowed for safe transfers from cars to the jail, but unhealthy and borderline unconstitutionally improper cells. There was plenty of room for counsel visits, with no privacy, no windows and claustrophobic pens. When a prisoner arrived financially unable to afford counsel, a lawyer would be assigned to the case. Almost no one, except for the DUI, out-of-towners, had retained lawyers, most of whom could plead out a drunk but not try a case. The Deputy Sheriff would find the on-duty PD or call out the name of the defendant. One day, I heard, “whose got Larkin Forney?” Frankly, I thought it was a sandwich or a condition. I said, “what’s a Larkin Forney?” “You’re client, you idiot. He’s downstairs, with a pile of papers and he wants to talk with you.”

Larkin had papers, all right. He had motions he had written which he wanted to file and he had a full statement of facts, his version, and he had pages of a book he was writing. And he was pissed that I hadn’t familiarized myself with all the nuances of the case before we met. I had to excuse his vituperativeness, given the fact I would leave the cell and he would stay. He may not have known I only just got the papers and barely had looked at them as I walked down the stairs. And, poor communication between offices of the Public Defender and the general malaise of some of the attorneys prevented me from knowing he had fired his previous PD after writing a complaint to the disciplinary committee accusing the lawyer who is now a judge or magistrate or something or all sorts of unethical conduct, asserting that the representation was less than adequate and unconstitutionally defective.

[MORE To Come]

Landino Fights Cancer For All of Us

“But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But… aw, hell. I’ve done introduced him enough.” Stole this line from Lebowski, but John deserves it.

So, he’s putting together a group to do art during his healing. He has esophageal cancer and needs to start treatment. He’s looking upwards, to the sky, for support. I’ll send him some landscapes and sky shots. I don’t do sunrises or sunsets. Too beginning and ending for me. The colors shine too brightly. Life’s a slog; mostly gray, not always black and white.

John finds music in everything. He sees art in everything. Melodies, not really recognizable ones, roll around in his head and then out his mouth. He’s more Beat, than neat. Not a hippie or hip, just different. I relate to different. Not many do. Now he has to turn his body over to the men with the white coats. Seems like he used to work with the guys in the white coats, only they treated heads not bodies. All those skills will be needed.

We will all root for him, those who know him and those whose lives would benefit if they did. We know he will go through the process with the same degree of joy that he used in life. He’ll be a good patient and we will be good friends.

Sy Rettinger, lives at 77

So, my friend, Sy visited yesterday from California. He stopped in VT after a pre-Rosh Hashanah cemetery visit. Charlotte died seven months ago. Palpable grief exudes, for how long who knows. 46 years of devoted marriage can do that to a man who lived with a witty, artistic and smart woman.

Sy practiced dentistry, left handed until a muscle injury forced his retirement. You can see the eyes that patients in the chair found reassuring as he improved their dental health.

He’s socializing while here with friends and family. Has kids and grandkids in the Western part of the country. Finding a creative self in stained glass. Carries a big and heavy heart. Helping to contribute to a new understanding of aging and living life to it’s fullest.

Lorin Duckman at 66

Every new year has to be a better year or else why live them. Someone asked how I was doing this moring at Shul: “Healthy, happy and I have a wonderful wife. What could be bad?”

Burlington Rains Again

Out early. Not much movement. The sun didn’t appear. No peek through for the breakwater. Overrun with water, the birds barely have a place to sit, at least from where I stand. Too humid for comfort, air also has some sediment from a fire which burns in my eyes. Cannot drink my coffee. Out of here.

Kids at Camp Gan cannot figure out what to do. Supposed to go on a boat ride. No way to challenge the lightning or rain. What to do?

Kelly sits on Cherry St, moved from Main. People complain she has a place to live and doesn’t need to beg. Its her job. But she sits in the sun, dressed well, courteous to a fault. Not many who don’t know her or can pass her by. Misses Paul.

Richard stays sober until he doesn’t. Hasn’t had to go back to treatment. Hangs out near Lowe’s and Hannafords. Ramp out of order for him. Ruggededly handsome. Lives nearby in the woods, somewhere.

Don’t have his name. He has mine. Struggling. Living in the woods. Hasn’t smoked in a while. Sweet and kind. Has friends.

A musician. Used to play a horn. Lost his teeth. Never saw him before. James Harvey, he calls himself. Been around here longer than I have. Has a brown dog. Looking to pick himself up and play again in the fall.

Ed Larrabee. Met him at the beach. He ventured to North Beach to escape the craziness on Church Street. Has a heritage he can be proud of. No place to live but he knew where he was going to crash tonight. Has a book about the Middle East which he wants to read, but he fears he doesn’t know enough to make it worthwhile. Understands people, but not injustice. Exudes self-confidence and personal strength.

Don’t ask me how any of them arrived in a place where I can picture them. And, they don’t ask me why I am in their midst.