It was a long time ago, around 1972 or so. I was a student at Rutgers-Livingston, an employee, member of the Student Center Board alumn, so had access to a lot of concerts. There was no MTV so we never knew what people looked like 'til we saw them. On a particular night, there was to be a concert in Records Hall, not the Gym as was usual. But my at the time boyfriend and I decided to go.
As we drove to destination, we came upon a stuck car, with a big man in some distress because he had to be at his job, was concerned Campus Patrol would tow the car, and a bit lost and distressed. My boyfriend and I helped him get his car to the side, and phoned campus patrol. It came out that the "big man" was to be at Records Hall for the concert. Campus Patrol said not to worry about the car; how could they get in to see the concert? So info was exchanged, and the big man went in one door, we went in the front.
I remember signing in, and saying, "I've been really curious to see Clarence C. Lemons. I like Jack Lemon a lot." It drew some giggles, oh, well, that's o.k.
My boyfriend had removed the seats from our VW because it was floor seating; soon the concert commenced. And there was "The Big Man". playing the saxophone! Wow. He could have had much more ego about him at meeting, as some persons would have had. But he didn't. That was what was so great about him. Getting to his job was important, who he was in his job never emerged til they began to play.
Intermission, a brief conversation with the Bandmaster took place, about what we thought and the overall sound. I told him the horns drowned everything out, all except the big man on the sax, who seemed to know just how to weave his sound in and around the music. Mr. S's response was surprise, as usually all he ever heard was "Yeah, man, This is great and that's great and the trumpets really make the band." Being aI singer most of my life, I don't like the vocals or other parts of the music being drowned out. And that's what was happening. They weren't "making" the band, they were "overriding" it. It was then that I found out I did a thing I've often done with persons of some note: The "Big Man' on the sax was Clarence Clemons. Another chuckle when I repeated that I had thought his name was Clarence C. Lemons.
Even funnier when the Big man was told that. His response? Yup. "Clarence see lemons when he see blondes. Every time I look in the audience, Clarence see lemons when he see blondes." Nobody could have given a more amusing "You airhead!" response. Isn't that right, Bring Sprucesteen? And I still do like the fruity Jetty Beads.
People cannot be replaced. His way may be imitated, but you've got to feel it. I don't think anyone can even be compared to Clarence Clemons. They'd have to be him, for real.
Sympathies to all to whom his passing was on a personal level. There is not much I can say to take the pain of your loss away. These things are things we never really "get over", we just learn to live with the empty space that is left. In time, hopefully, things will enter your lives and fill to some extent, his absence. There is always a part of us that goes with when we lose someone from our lives, a piece of us that never comes back. Yes, it seems, we a little part of ourselves dies too. The best we can do is remember that the depth of our grief is beyond equal to the depth of our love. But it was a life well lived and well received, and now he is beyond all pain. Our pain will in time diminish, and we too will pass one day beyond the pain this world inflicts. Be at peace, and grateful that you had this man for the time which he was granted to be.
With warmest remebrance,
Prinzessin "Pegi" Hohenzoller
As we drove to destination, we came upon a stuck car, with a big man in some distress because he had to be at his job, was concerned Campus Patrol would tow the car, and a bit lost and distressed. My boyfriend and I helped him get his car to the side, and phoned campus patrol. It came out that the "big man" was to be at Records Hall for the concert. Campus Patrol said not to worry about the car; how could they get in to see the concert? So info was exchanged, and the big man went in one door, we went in the front.
I remember signing in, and saying, "I've been really curious to see Clarence C. Lemons. I like Jack Lemon a lot." It drew some giggles, oh, well, that's o.k.
My boyfriend had removed the seats from our VW because it was floor seating; soon the concert commenced. And there was "The Big Man". playing the saxophone! Wow. He could have had much more ego about him at meeting, as some persons would have had. But he didn't. That was what was so great about him. Getting to his job was important, who he was in his job never emerged til they began to play.
Intermission, a brief conversation with the Bandmaster took place, about what we thought and the overall sound. I told him the horns drowned everything out, all except the big man on the sax, who seemed to know just how to weave his sound in and around the music. Mr. S's response was surprise, as usually all he ever heard was "Yeah, man, This is great and that's great and the trumpets really make the band." Being aI singer most of my life, I don't like the vocals or other parts of the music being drowned out. And that's what was happening. They weren't "making" the band, they were "overriding" it. It was then that I found out I did a thing I've often done with persons of some note: The "Big Man' on the sax was Clarence Clemons. Another chuckle when I repeated that I had thought his name was Clarence C. Lemons.
Even funnier when the Big man was told that. His response? Yup. "Clarence see lemons when he see blondes. Every time I look in the audience, Clarence see lemons when he see blondes." Nobody could have given a more amusing "You airhead!" response. Isn't that right, Bring Sprucesteen? And I still do like the fruity Jetty Beads.
People cannot be replaced. His way may be imitated, but you've got to feel it. I don't think anyone can even be compared to Clarence Clemons. They'd have to be him, for real.
Sympathies to all to whom his passing was on a personal level. There is not much I can say to take the pain of your loss away. These things are things we never really "get over", we just learn to live with the empty space that is left. In time, hopefully, things will enter your lives and fill to some extent, his absence. There is always a part of us that goes with when we lose someone from our lives, a piece of us that never comes back. Yes, it seems, we a little part of ourselves dies too. The best we can do is remember that the depth of our grief is beyond equal to the depth of our love. But it was a life well lived and well received, and now he is beyond all pain. Our pain will in time diminish, and we too will pass one day beyond the pain this world inflicts. Be at peace, and grateful that you had this man for the time which he was granted to be.
With warmest remebrance,
Prinzessin "Pegi" Hohenzoller
