Self Portrait XVI

Here is yours, truly, in 1983 at Dave's house after a Saturday over-night (I am pretty sure). Dave's English mum Judith (from Hamstead Garden Suburbs or "the posh" part of town) sends me this photo last month. How our past never escapes us. Back then, Dave and I the same stature -- 98 pound weaklings -- while an ongoing joke (to this day I emphasize) our height: he nips me with an afro but otherwise I top him. We both hid behind our yufful obsessions: swimming and saxophone, which enabled us to dexterously side-step those awkward teens. Chicken shits were we, but one adapts as one can [I own a strange memory of biking past the Ellis house every morning, 5:45AM, on my way to swimming practice at King Jr High pool - dark, cold, often raining and two hours and five miles of swimming ahead.] Today, Dave a buffed black dude with shaved head and somewhat menacing goatee. A bad ass. And serious, too - he continues to perform and enjoyed the #1 jazz album in the country in '06 with "State Of Mind." I still swim a few laps myself but not so much.