My Dad, Frank Supak, died nine years ago today. I'll be listening to Miles, Kinda Blue, here in a little while, while I drink a beer. I'm just sorry I can only afford the cheap regional lager, and not an Anchor Steam. And I prefer Bushmills to single malt Scotch. But I'll be listening to his Miles CD, on his speakers, at his volume (not too loud). Maybe I'll listen to Holtz, The Planets. Maybe some Brubeck, live at Oberlin (a CD the significance of which he couldn't stress enough). I know I'll listen to Art Pepper, because I listen to him a lot.
But I don't think of Dad that often anymore. He was the contradiction: a Republican union member (IATSE), so, by dying 9 years ago, he saved us both a lot of grief. He had a very good life, if too short (he was 62). He was the sound man at the Hollywood Bowl for 20 years, and he enjoyed every second of performance pay.
But any time I feel sad, I remember that he liked to say that things only seemed one in a million because we don't live a billion years.
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