They Can't Take That Away From You

There's something about being in an empty house with no stuff. You've sold stuff. The other stuff is in boxes in a van parked at some truck stop. And there it is in stark reality: it's just stuff. And then there's the first doorbell ring, and the first flower delivery man delivers the first living plant. And there it sits in the middle of the empty living room (lower left in the picture - click to enlarge).

And then it hits you when you look at the tag and see who it's from. Right there in front of you, you see what's really important. The thing that's still there even when all the stuff is gone. Friendship. It was from a very fine trumpet player. A man that helped me grow as a drummer. We combined our gifts and love of jazz to bring joy to others, raise money for charity, and have a hell of a lot of fun in the process. A person who was there for me with kind words when my father died. One who encouraged and checked on me during my sabatical. A relationship formed by a decade of making music together. The stuff? It can be boxed and taken away. A relationship? They can't take that away from you. Moving reminds me of that. Thank you, Jerry!