I love just letting my day dictate itself.
Yesterday I set out to do nothing in particular and ended up having a most perfect day.
First up a Pumpkin Spice latte served to me by an Oscar (barista spray painted gold), followed by a trip to the Brickworks for freshly made Jamie Kennedy French fries dipped in a cilantro lime chili aioli, enjoyed to the sounds of Latin music in the cool fall air as the
market celebrated Dia De Los Muertos. This was followed by some picture taking at the distillary district and a spontaneous afternoon concert seranaded by my dear friend Denzal Sinclaire. (ok the concert wasn’t spontaneous, but my attendance was)
Denzal and I did a show together way back when. 15 yrs ago to be
exact. “Unforgettable: The Nat King Cole story”
He was Nat King Cole. I was the white girl.
(inside joke explanation: the entire cast consisted of him, and four supporting singers, 2 black, 2 white, who played all of the various people he came in contact with throughout his life)
anyway… He was spectacular. And he stole my heart both personally and professionally.
We laughed a lot. We took our first helicopter ride together, we discovered sushi together, and just before Thanksgiving I wrote him a love poem (turns out he was gay… of course… Story of my broken gaydar life) (thankfully he was also flattered and our friendship remained intact)
But he will always hold a special place in my heart for another reason.
I was in Vancouver doing that show on the night my father died.
Actually we were long done the show and had partied quite a bit that night as the next day was our dark day.
When the front desk patched through the call from Ontario it was the middle of the night. I, being groggy & slightly tipsy, hung up on the phone caller… 3 times, hurling several obscenities at what I thought was a cruel prankster.
Then came the knock at the door.
Nothing sobers you up faster than reality knocking on your door…
On the other side of the door stood Denzal. Tall and strong and brave with the unenviable task of telling his friend on the other side of the door that she was suddenly, unexpectedly, an orphan.
He said just three words “I’m so sorry” then took me in his arms and held on tight while I wailed and thrashed and made noises I had never heard come out of my body. (I used to think those kinds of reactions were a thing of movie scripts, but they are not. They are visceral and animalistic, and completely out of your control)
I have always felt so bad that he has to share that memory with me,
and yet I am so grateful that it was him on the other side if that door.
He was as genuinely happy to see me yesterday as I was to see him.
He sounded amazing of course and I was pleased to learn he is back in the hood for a while! (yay, more opportunities to see and hear him!) and he is working on a new album.
anyway, if you are so inclined, check out my charming friend http://denzalsinclaire.com/