Serendipity?
I was rumaging around on the NPR attic of old programs, seeking the name of a singer they had profiled, an inteview that had only semi-permeated my consciousness. When they played "Oyaya" by Angelique Kidjo, I realized she is someone we had been listening to in New York for several years, but I couldn't remember her name. So I was looking and found her, and also the name Josh White popped up, as a profile of another singer on the program four years ago.
Josh White was a black blues singer I heard as a third former at Kent. He was provocative, a black man singing about sex to white women, irreverant at a highly Episcopalian boarding school. So much so that the Headmaster stalked out of the performance in a fit of pique. Josh White perched himself on a stool at center stage with an acoustic guitar. All that I remember is the chorus to only one song, "Goddam his eyes." So I was interested to learn about how important he was as a musician, having sung for Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt at The White House, even.
While listening, I thought about who else I know who might appreciate that evening with Josh White, and I sent my friend Stuart in Philadelphia the internet link. He has a very good memory of those days, and remembered that evening clearly. As I listened to the interview, I suddenly realized that I was hearing a familiar voice. Indeed, it was Patrick Hickox, another third form classmate. He was asking about that song and it turned out that White said that he only sang it when he did not like the audience. I guess, then, that he did not have much admiraton for a boarding school audience filled with rich white kids in their school uniforms. While I was listening to Patrick, Stu emailed me back to say that another couple, related to him by marriage were also taped speaking in the interview. He said it was eerie to hear their voices, long since dead and gone.
And so I am left wondering about intelligent design and serendipity. Why was I listening to that old interview, and how did I happen to catch something in the caller-in's voice that I knew was Patrick? How odd it was that I had ever even heard Josh White at all. And all so wonderful.
Josh White was a black blues singer I heard as a third former at Kent. He was provocative, a black man singing about sex to white women, irreverant at a highly Episcopalian boarding school. So much so that the Headmaster stalked out of the performance in a fit of pique. Josh White perched himself on a stool at center stage with an acoustic guitar. All that I remember is the chorus to only one song, "Goddam his eyes." So I was interested to learn about how important he was as a musician, having sung for Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt at The White House, even.
While listening, I thought about who else I know who might appreciate that evening with Josh White, and I sent my friend Stuart in Philadelphia the internet link. He has a very good memory of those days, and remembered that evening clearly. As I listened to the interview, I suddenly realized that I was hearing a familiar voice. Indeed, it was Patrick Hickox, another third form classmate. He was asking about that song and it turned out that White said that he only sang it when he did not like the audience. I guess, then, that he did not have much admiraton for a boarding school audience filled with rich white kids in their school uniforms. While I was listening to Patrick, Stu emailed me back to say that another couple, related to him by marriage were also taped speaking in the interview. He said it was eerie to hear their voices, long since dead and gone.
And so I am left wondering about intelligent design and serendipity. Why was I listening to that old interview, and how did I happen to catch something in the caller-in's voice that I knew was Patrick? How odd it was that I had ever even heard Josh White at all. And all so wonderful.
posted by Stonechuck at 10:32 AM
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