Service can come in all shapes and sizes.

This story is very touching because it's based on something real: a 73 year romance. But it's also the story of a songwriter who performed an act of love. An act of service to another.

After viewing this video, it occurred to me that I have at least a few songs on Tales from the Bonus Round that were written in just this manner, including the true story of the mother of a soldier she's just driven to the airport, and has come home to find all the games and toys he bought during the break scattered all over the floor.

Writing with, and for, other people is something I love doing. Back in L.A., at Kulak's Woodshed, Marc Platt and I ran a "drop-in" songwriter class. We'd get some young people, but the most interesting, to me, were the women, all over 40, who'd been singing or working around the periphery of the songwriting world, and hadn't really tried writing.

I wrote on the WDS board that this act of service to this man, donating their time and talent, is now creating a community of people who are deeply touched. And the community is now propelling this man on a great adventure of being able to share his love for this woman. And she is gorgeous in those old pics.

But let's also be fair to the musicians, Jacob Colgan and "Green Shoe Studios," we wouldn't have sat there listening to the old man's version of this song. It would not exist without them.

And I'm glad they had the smarts to make a good video about it. 

Random Thoughts and Jim Home.

It's always fun when Jim gets home from a long trip. We're so excited to see each other, we're like chattering monkeys. We'll put on a TV show and realize, halfway through, we haven't been listening to the show. We've been too busy talking to each other.

He really missed being home. But he does love the people in Florida, especially the musicians playing his show. He said they became a very tight combo together, singing and playing the songs from "Character Man," which has evolved now into a full 90-min. musical, albeit a personal one.

"Hi, there! Got my own personal musical here in this bag!"

I recently got a note from a most beloved young man I met on the long bonus round road. He was just a little kid when we met, but he had already developed a theatrical flair, introducing one of my concerts imitating the Mike Myers character from Saturday Night Live, Linda Richmond.

I mentioned before, it's one of the miracles of getting older. Suddenly, the children you used to know are young adults, filled with ambition, dreams, talent and energy. I have this same naive belief in myself, even at age 59, that I'm soon to conquer the world. And why not? What else should one do on a Tuesday?

Anyway, he asked me, now that he's moved to the City, what he should do. And I gave him the same answer I give every young person trying to get into show business. First, surround yourself with a community of people who are different from you, more talented than you, better looking than you, more driven than you, and make yourself useful to them even if it's just contributing your talent to the pool.

For instance, I've spoken a lot about contributing my voice as tenor to the small (but mighty) choir at Christ Church in Brooklyn that needs as many trained (or trainable) voices as they can get. In return, I'm getting a university level education in composition and performance, not to mention the fact that this is where Jim and I met Carl Conway Maguire who is responsible for us getting parts in the "Old Timers" movie.

It always seems to come back to adventure, service and community. Though, as I wrote recently elsewhere, start with the service, if you don't have a community in mind. Service leads to community, which then results in adventure. It has worked for me my entire life.

And what this has to do with Jim, I don't know.

But it's so nice to have him home.

AIDS In New York: The First Five Years.

New York's first candlelight march.

The stunning New-York Historical Society Museum's AIDS new exhibit opening today called "AIDS In New York: The First Five Years" caught me completely off guard. I wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions that poured into me as I visited a history I both am, and am not, a part of. During those years, I didn't live in New York. In fact, I was mostly in a car, a van or on a plane playing backwater clubs in a cover/show band, renting studio time here and there for midnight recording session, learning my chops as a musician and getting laid and partying, as musicians do.

This world was mostly a straight world, so I get the news of AIDS second hand. A rumor of a "gay cancer." A rumor that it might be a virus. A rumor that no one knew how it was transmitted. A rumor that it was a punishment purposefully sent by God. 

I have this memory of actually being in New York for a few days during that time, and picking up some paper suggesting that this new disease was nothing more than a plot by Heterosexual America to exterminate us, either through disease or fear. Or just a plot to keep us from getting laid!

In the pre-Internet/cell phone days, one lived alone with one's thoughts. I'm not saying it was better or worse than what we have today, but the point is that I was sheltered off from most of the news as we drove from town to town. (I wrote before how I was in the airport Sheraton in Columbus, Ohio -- when John Lennon was murdered). 

So, this past week, as I found myself unexpectedly at the center of a lot of attention because of that amazing front page (Metro section) New York Times story, as well as the BBC story, one of the persons I came in contact with was Timothy Wroten, the Associate Manager, Communications for a place I'd never heard of: The New-York Historical Society.

The first thing I noticed was, of course, the "dash" between "New" and "York" in the title. New-York?

Either this was the most pretentious "society" trying to look "olde," or it was an institution that had been around for a very long time. How happy I was to find out that the latter is the case. 

When did we lose the dash? I guess I'll have to go back to find out. 

Anna Bressanin and Matthew Danizigo, the producers of the BBC segment from their "Altered States" series tied together my story with this exhibit, which I didn't know what happening, the purpose of which is to recall the "dark ages" of AIDS, back before anyone even knew if it was virus.

And in tying us together, focused on how fear and ignorance lead to death. 

Founded in 1804. We were barely a country back then.

Out front, giving Abe a bit of advice.

My L.A. friend, AIDS educator Michael Sugar, was in town.

Lately, I've been reading a lot of history about New York City, including the superb "Island at the Center of the World," which traces a lot of forgotten or unknown history pre-British. It was the Dutch that set the tone for New York (or New-York) to be the multi-cultural "center of the world" that it is.

Beautiful entrance-way.

The lobby area is both expansive and informative with early pictures of New York personalities and art
plus touch screens that describe each object found on the wall. It's really cool to play with.

Then, we went upstairs. The first thing we came to was this.

Claire Yaffa's iconic photographs take your breath away. The black room where these are set, with the photos all around reminded me a bit of the Holocaust Museum in DC where you enter a black room and the walls and ceiling are covered with every snapshots of all the people who lived in that town. But here, the collection is set off one jolting photo at a time.

This one killed me. This room alone with worth the effort.
Yes, your heart will break. But this time cannot be forgotten. 

 Then, we come to the main exhibit.

A perfect touch: vintage televisions with news casts from that time.

The first time it got described.
I had Pneumocystis carinii pneumonica. It almost killed me.
It formed the basis of the Last Session song, "Save Me A Seat."

Timothy Wroten takes us into the darkest days of AIDS.

On the ropes, with seemingly no one caring remotely about gay people -- the subject was never mentioned except in the most extreme "fags go to hell" language -- or other people with AIDS ("they did it to themselves"), the public's perception needed to be changed, the medical industry needed to be pushed, the politics needed to be changed. Funny thing happens when you're fighting for your life: Everything non-essential fades away.

But at the center of it all, as David France demonstrates in his extraordinary documentary "How To Survive A Plague," is education. The people met to get information. Where did it come from? Why is it attacking us? How is it transmitted? What does it do to you once you get it?

With few people looking, and a president looking the other way, you have to do it yourself.

Finally, funding began.

That vaccine does not exist yet.

I relate to this picture today, all the way down to the Metamucil.
The difference was that his meds didn't work.

But it was still a "somebody we don't know" disease until...

Rock Hudson died.
That's, really, when I was aware of Hollywood kicking in their support for us.

If you don't live in New-York, I hope these photos will give you a hint. I am hearing from young people today in 2013 that they aren't quite sure how you get infected, and even if you do, that's it's no big deal.

The unspoken subtext to all this is that health educators and activists are telling me that the big gay national organizations have abandoned us. When asked what their budget is for AIDS education, the answer is somewhat close to ZERO because -- and I quote, "It's not a gay issue."

Their focus on gay marriage, while tremendously successful and worthy of respect, will end in disaster if, in turning away from HIV, they lose another generation.

The tragedy of the AIDS holocaust is can happen again. All it takes is for the virus to mutate (something it does very well) a wee bit more that way rather than this way, and it can all start over again.

You can't get married if you're dead.

The New-York Historical Society's AIDS in NY: The First Five Years runs beginning today through September 15, 2013. And don't miss Larry Kramer on Wednesday, June 26 at 6:30pm discussing his play The Normal Heart, which documents this early history in blistering detail.

"Rescue" Live at Kulak's Woodshed

This is the new song I've been telling you about. It's called, for now, "Rescue."

(NEW: Download the sheet music!)

It's dedicated to The Pepper Foundation, which is run by my friend and fellow songwriter, Julie Chadwick. What I like about this song, apart from the song itself, I mean, is that it was a group project. Val, Avril, Bo and I were given a room and a piano.

Remembering that Animal Night at Kulak's was three days away, we decided to write a song to be played that night. Since The Pepper Foundation is a rescue group, we decided on the theme of "rescue." I think what we ended up with is very tender and real.

This performance below is actually my third time to sing it for an audience. It was my first time to sing it by heart -- and my first time to play it without any mistakes on the piano.

And here's to doggies everywhere.

What Colin Powell Said About Muslim Americans.

General Colin Powell this morning endorsed Barack Obama, but that's not what got to me when I heard him. I confess that I watched with tears streaming down my face when he said this:

I'm also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say. And it is permitted to be said such things as, "Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim."

Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he's a Christian. He's always been a Christian.

But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer's no, that's not America. Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be president?

Yet, I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, "He's a Muslim and he might be associated terrorists." This is not the way we should be doing it in America.

I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo essay about troops who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery, and she had her head on the headstone of her son's grave.

And as the picture focused in, you could see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards--Purple Heart, Bronze Star--showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old.

And then, at the very top of the headstone, it didn't have a Christian cross, it didn't have the Star of David, it had crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, and he was an American. He was born in New Jersey. He was 14 years old at the time of 9/11, and he waited until he can go serve his country, and he gave his life.

Now, we have got to stop polarizing ourself in this way. And John McCain is as nondiscriminatory as anyone I know. But I'm troubled about the fact that, within the party, we have these kinds of expressions.

Amen and amen again.

Creating Community, a musical tribute to Kulak's Woodshed

I've written a lot about Kulak's Woodshed, which is here in my neighborhood of Valley Village (North Hollywood), California. It's a place that has no cover charge, and it has featured, and still continues to feature some of the most amazing talent in the world, all of which is broadcast live over the Net.

That it exists at all is a miracle of will performed by Paul Kulak, who says he got his inspiration from, believe it or not, my own work at National Academy of Songwriters many years ago, where I, along with Blythe Newlon Brown, Paul Zollo and Dan Kirkpatrick, produced a songwriter showcase at the legendary Troubadour in West Hollywood.

Paul has filled this little music space with video cameras and he mans a group of volunteers who run the cameras and sound equipment. It's truly a community effort that wouldn't exist if people didn't give their time and talent and money to make it happen because, aside from the overhead costs, there are business people in the neighborhood who are trying to get it shut down even though, at night, there is nothing else open on either side or near the place.

I just don't get some people. This is one of those rare instances where an otherwise dark cityscape is given life and light and music. And if we're heading into darker days with the economy, it's even more important that neighborhood hang-outs like this exist, where the many retired folks and families and their pets, and even a street person or two, from the neighboring areas can come in from the cold and be entertained without the invasion of drugs, gangs, carousing or danger.

Paul Kulak has spent, literally, tens of thousands of dollars, having to defend the Woodshed before the city council, zoning commissions, etc. because no one can believe that someone would just put something up out of the sheer love of doing it. The legal roadblocks are staggering. But Paul is a stubborn guy who refuses to let anyone destroy this dream.

There's one guy in particular who is determined to shut us down because he has an office he uses at night next to the Woodshed, even though sound testing as shown that our little acoustic space generates less noise than the trucks and motorcycles barreling down Laurel Canyon Blvd. It's become a battle of wills, with lots of angry, dishonest and spiteful things being hurled in our direction -- and I say "we" because I've become a volunteer on the cameras and the Monday Night Open Mic has become, echoed in the words of Dave Morrison, also a singer/songwriter, "church" for me.

At the top of this entry is a musical tribute that I finished up this past week. I hope you enjoy it. It's called "Creating Community," and it's my newest song.