Um, would that be like . . . "adult" book store?
No, remember? I told you we took the train to San Diego and . . .
And you were going to "adult" jazz camp?
Yes, but that's not . . . apparently, the concept is difficult for some people. It was . . .
Okay, I see it now. A bunch of senior citizens, camping out in little cabins around a lodge. They all have camp tee shirts. Blue, I think, and the men -- those who still have hair -- have it pulled back in gray pony tails and
Oh, stop. You're not funny.
Yes I am. And there are campfires at night, and it's on the beach so everyone is sitting on logs, but they have stadium cushions, and little sweaters against the chill?
Okay, you're right. It was exactly like that. We played Kingston Trio, and
Kumbaya. I knew it.
What adult jazz camp was, was awesome. They take 10 people for each instrument of a trad jazz band, so there were 70 of us campers. By the way, "trad" jazz means "traditional" and refers to New Orleans-style jazz. Think Louis Armstrong, Kid Orey, "Fats" Waller. Dixieland. Got it?
The 7 instruments in a trad band are piano, bass or tuba, drums, banjo, and the front line, trumpet, clarinet, and trombone. And that's all I knew when I arrived at "camp." Which was held in the historic Lafayette Hotel, in the North Park neighborhood of San Diego.
Larry and I got there a day early, checked in, and were a little surprised to find that our room on the 4th floor was so historic that there was no closet, no dresser in the room, or any way of accommodating our clothes if we wanted to take them out of the suitcases. And where would we put the suitcases, by the way? In the middle of the floor, apparently. Apparently people in the old days didn't change their clothes when they attended adult jazz camp. But we did have a great view of the parking lot. No beach in sight.
Larry went to see if, having arrived early, we might be granted better digs, and came back with keys to one of the cabana rooms out by the pool. Much better, especially as the elevator was out of service here in the main, older section of the hotel.
We moved into a nice room with a balcony, and set off for downtown to see the city, have lunch, walk along the water. The next day, camp began, and it was intense! Three hours of instruction in the morning, and then in the afternoon, we were divided, randomly, into little transitory bands which lasted for an hour. During that time, the newly organized musicians played music we'd been given in advance, were critiqued by one of the pros, tried to work together, and then split apart to go join another 6 strangers in another room. This went on from noon to 9:30 in the evening, with a break for meals, of course, and then into the night with jamming. Whew!
Our room overlooked the pool all right, and that meant we overlooked a group of young men, who were staying at the hotel for reasons never clear to us. Because, all right, many--most of the campers were, in fact, um, a bit older. These poolside boys were there to get tan, it seemed, to drink beer, and do whatever else they had in mind after dark fell. Who knows, but they weren't there for the music.
What did Larry do while I was off improving my ensemble skills? Guess you'd have to ask him, but he had his guitar, so I know he practiced. Worked on his computer. Sat on the balcony and read. Had a beer or two. We did make the acquaintance of a camper there from Minnesota, so Larry had the opportunity to speak with someone in his native language. This man was also a Golden Gopher!
Yes! ! Had he also been left-handed, the reunion would have been complete. ( My husband is a saint!)
And on the subject of food, right across the street was a rib joint owned by the darling (my word, not Larry's) Brandon Jesse, the son of Ron Jesse who played for the Rams, had a super-bowl ring, and lots of game balls on display. I had never heard of Ron Jesse, but the ribs were glorious, and Larry even got a tour of Brandon's rig out back where he cooked the meat over a real wood coals. Diners, Drive-ins and Dives! in the flesh.
I loved camp! I did learn why some people find the banjo an annoying instrument . . . but the whole experience was so great that I'm already signed up for next year. Remember, they only take 10 banjo players. I'm there!
