1:45 pm: In my car with Quiet Riot's "Cum On Feel the Noyz" on the radio. Girls rock your boyz. Gimme a break. And people wonder why I hated the 80's.

So I met up with my high school physics teacher, Mark, at his gig last night. His band is called "Altered Echoes" and they're a bit of a folk-rock outfit. Mark played mandolin and guitar and sang on his few songs. There was another guitarist/vocalist who was the main songwriter and mostly wrote in a new-age-y folk vein that occasionally grated. Mark's material was a lot better in my opinion, upbeat and rocking and fun. They were backed by bass, drums, and a female keyboardist/backing vocals.

I hadn't seen Mark in 17 years. He looked pretty much the same, and as we stood there looking at each other, I thought, "holy cow, after 17 years we can't have any idea who it is standing before each other". I mentioned this and he said, "But we know the core of each other from back then". He always countered my cynicism with optimism. In truth, I probably knew more about him since he was an adult already 17 years ago, whereas I was just a troubled teen. Many sedimentary layers have buried that core that he knew, but there wasn't much different about him, just added experience, including getting his doctorate, having two kids, and going through a divorce. Changes life experience brings, not core changes.

So the gig was great and I felt lucky to catch him playing since I had forgotten how much in awe I held his musicianship, very fluid, very natural and organic. After the gig, he handed me his trusty old Martin and told me to play it, and I was hesitant, but I did want to put my hands on it, and it was like magic. I fiddled with it for less than 30 seconds and took it off embarassed, but said, "This guitar just wants to be played". That's what it felt like, I put my fingers on the neck and they just wanted to do things that they don't on my own guitars. It was like the guitar was saying "feed me, Seymour", and helping me along.

He invited me to stay over at his place, but I declined, and walking back to the motel I wondered why after 17 years, I brought myself to look him up, having the opportunity. With the vast majority of people in my past, I wouldn't bother. I would look them up, as I did with Mark, I'd weigh the decision to call, which I did with Mark, seriously consider how easy it would be to just not call, which I did with Mark, and then I wouldn't call, which I didn't do with Mark. He hasn't been a prominent force in my memories over the years, but he was a saving grace in high school, being a mentor of sorts during my junior year. And I do remember him hinting to me how Shiho Nakai felt about me. If I could do things differently . . . but Shiho was a different person in high school than she was ten years later when I did fall for her big time.

He invited me over to his house for breakfast this morning and I got more of a reminder of what he was to me. I met his cat, Laptop, and he was burning me a CD of his featuring his kalimba (African thumb "piano") playing. The mandolin and kalimba are two instruments that he had taken up since I saw him last, and it was like he just transfered what he did on guitar to those instruments. It wasn't about the instruments, learning a new instrument wasn't an impediment. It was the music inside him, and no matter what instrument he picked up, he would find a way for it to speak what was inside him.

He has also taken up building marimbas! The idea being to someday sell them perhaps to schools, which in the Tucson area are having ailing music programs. For him it's a vehicle to get kids into music. The marimbas he's made so far, very good quality mind you, were all in C. He laid two of them out, handed me mallets and told me to play something. I was like, "no way", but he kinda gave me a gimme a break "just play" and he started playing. So what could I do, I joined in and we just jammed for a while on marimbas. Granted, nothing is gonna be completely wrong when you have two instruments tuned to the same key, his mission, after all, is meant for kids, but it still felt magical, and it reminded me of jamming with him on guitar when I was in high school.

Jamming was fun in high school because he is so good, and he listened and fed off anything I did, even if I mistakenly changed keys. I remember I had a black Guild 12-string and he with his Martin. But the reason why anything we did sounded good was because of him.

He's leaving this afternoon for Chile. He's a radio astronomer and they're building a millimeter array in Chile, and I guess he's part of the advisory team to set it up. Ironically, this is the same array that he was working on for Japan in 1992 when I almost met up with him there with Shiho, but that ended up in a debacle and we never met.

He was a de facto mentor. If I had been less of a spoiled upper middle class white surburbia kid, I could have accepted him more as a mentor. If we had been closer in age, we could have been friends, but I had a problem with anyone in a position of "authority", he broke that barrier as much as any adult could. But something still slipped in through all my defenses I suppose, and that's why I ultimately called him. I was blessed having met him 17 years ago. It doesn't change a thing in the here and now, but everyone should have someone like him in their lives.