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mr. guaraldi lived next door to dave pava, around the corner and up the hill, the hill that still reigns in my dreams, in that post-war subdivision i posted about recently and we used to hear him practice, mr. guaraldi, and then the beatles came out and even mr. guaraldi had a pop radio fling, and then in a minute we were big brother, of course, but it all built on a solid foundation, see, and this was it: san francisco, 50s jazz, festivals at sigmund stern with woody allen on the clarinet but we didn’t know he was woody allen yet, and big al collins on the radio, and us kids running all over the grove, and then hanging out at the music store that sold guitars after school, hungry i, when just a year before i’d trudged there weekly to my after elementary school piano lessons, and this was the soundtrack, and then hearing on the radio while washing the dinner dishes one night that there would be a dance at longshoreman’s hall that turned out to spawn the avalon and filmore and winterland too, and even then, for my 16th birthday just before we left what i asked was to see bola sete at a nightclub in tiburon, still that longshoreman’s hall dance was the first one, and i asked my daddy if we could go then, too, and he said yes, but i don’t remember who was there; it’s all of a piece, and ksfo became kmpx turned into ksan, but this was it, this was the culture, mr. guaraldi was the real deal and he must have been quite young at the time, too, actually, since when he dropped dead on the peninsula still in his 40s i was already out of college.
TAGS: jazz ksfo
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