small modern living blog - august clouds

I veered the corner just outside the entrance and scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. A good-humored bouncer scanned my ID and pursed his lips, deciding if he should let me in. Thankfully he ushered me through the door, protected by a dim yellow awning. I let out a sigh of relief. Flyers showcasing Eau Claire’s past musical performances were proudly displayed on the wall. Chipping paint was cleverly hidden with every adorned piece of paper. I carefully reached in my purse, a thrift store find which smelled of tobacco and rose perfume. My disposable camera was ready to capture the moment, but I hesitated for some unknown reason. Handshakes quickly turned into hugs as glasses clanked in the distance. I stood in the corner, awaiting any sort of recognition.

I was 19 years old, discovering myself and place in the world. I moved to Eau Claire for college and was longing for more connections. My roommate took me to an Irie Sol show a few months prior and I was eager to see another, even if that meant sneaking into a bar by myself. I was not a courageous being by nature, but something told me to take a risk that night. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest, but I made it, disposable camera and all.

Band members were patiently getting their equipment ready, continuously greeted by admiring fans. Streaks of bright colors illuminated the stage as the show began. I saw him in the front on the right side, hair neatly pulled back, a wide smile across his face. When I saw him, I couldn’t help but smile. My tension lessened as I tapped my fingers on the bar stool. His joy was infectious. I remember meeting him briefly at the last show, but would he remember me? Should I say hi? I felt like no one.  He felt like the personification of joy. The trumpets and electric guitars seemed to dance in unison. The professor of the crew danced with rhythm and tempered speed, encouraged by his bandmates. I hung around until bar close, mustering up the courage to say hello to the band.  Junior approached and warmly greeted the couple to my left. It was apparent that he knew many people and people certainly knew him. I was thinking of what to say when he turned his head to me and smiled, as if to say hello. He hugged his friends goodbye and approached asking, “Do I know you from somewhere?” We talked until the lights were at full blast and he told me I seemed like a “cool girl” and to come back and see another show. No one had ever said that to me. I was beaming with pride as I walked home on Barstow Street.

That was 20 years ago. I presumably have been to hundreds of Irie Sol shows across Minnesota and Wisconsin. Junior became my beloved friend. 15 years ago at 7th Steet Entry, Joel and Junior gave me a record, signed with beautiful messages for my birthday. It was especially meaningful as it was a difficult time in my life. My mother had cancer for several years and I spent the majority of my 20’s living at home and caring for her. Junior was a gift to me during this time, always bringing me joy and filling my heart with hope. In the words of Junior’s inspiration, Bob Marley, “True friends are like stars; you can only recognize them when it’s dark around you.” It was around this time, Junior would pull me aside when he didn’t like the way others were talking to me. He told me to have confidence in myself. When I didn’t believe in myself, I had Junior there to be my guide. Junior was always kind to people I would bring to shows, but when he first met my husband Dan, I remember him telling me immediately how much he liked him. Perhaps it was a shared love of design that solidified their bond (my husband is an architect). He credits my husband’s kind demeanor and the fact that he’s a “really interesting guy.” During one of our Carifest outings, we scouted the entire bank of the Mississippi looking for him. We finally found Junior enjoying some Caribbean cuisine and eventually coaxing me to drink out of a coconut. He had made many new friends that day but assured us, “I always have time to talk to you.”

One of my favorite photos of Junior was taken at our wedding by our friend, Lisa. She caught him in a sheer moment of joy, Lake Superior blue in the background. I have a photo of my Slovak nephew, Alex, being held lovingly by Junior, hands held tightly together. My dad spent time with him the night before our wedding at The Creamery, a popular bar in Bayfield, Wisconsin and considers it one of the highlights of the weekend. Being with our friends, family, and Irie Sol was the best possible way to celebrate our wedding. The day after, we met at Morty’s Pub making plans for what seemed like the beginning of a rainy day. Gloom didn’t phase Junior as he reminded me “It’s good luck! Especially on your wedding weekend.” At one point we saw Junior on a boat headed to Madeline Island as we boarded the ferry, laughing freely in the sun. This is how I will always remember him.

The last several years, my family Christmas cards have been displayed on Junior’s fridge. He happily texts me every week before Christmas with a photo and caption, “I just added another one!” (There are usually several emoji’s that follow). We have talked on the phone while I take my kids to the train museum, my son yelling in the background, “Uncle Chris you should see this train!” My nephew came for a visit from Florida and Junior took him to a coffee shop to spend time with him and answer his questions about Rastafari. The last few years I have been laser-focused on my son who has chronic health issues. Junior provided a loving, non-judgmental, and affirming attitude as I processed his health journey. This last year, Junior used every moment to praise the medical staff taking care of him. He spoke of faith, his beliefs in the world around him, how content he was with the love of his friends and family. His last voice message to me began, “My darling Jess.” His words are a testament to his character, his ability to make others around him feel valued, loved, “even cool” in pivotal life moments.

Last August my son began counting clouds in the hot summer sun, in between bites of pepperoni pizza. Glasses clanked together as I veered the corner and spotted my college roommate, Melissa, (who first introduced me to the band). We were all here together, one last time, at Melissa’s brewery. Irie Sol took to the stage and performed an incredible show. My daughter, Luiza, laughed joyously and begged to be held while dancing so she could partake in the magic at dusk. Junior picked her up gingerly and she did not protest, looking at him with a child’s awe. After the show, my son Asher took several slow-motion videos exploring the stationary cars on the property. Junior took the time to engage him and follow his lead, praising him at every turn. I remember him telling my son “how cool” he was, and I couldn’t help but feel like a 19 year old girl, seeking belonging and finding it in Eau Claire on Barstow Street. The sun gleamed across Junior’s face as we parted – My son shouted “I love you Uncle Chris!” He looked back as if to say “I know.”

This August, I lay in my backyard wetland grass, counting August clouds as they pass. My son asks me if Uncle Chris is in heaven now and what he is doing up there, pointing at the clouds. Tears stream down my face as I assure him that Uncle Chris is happy and probably singing and dancing, writing music, and trying to make someone else feel happy. My mind drifts to Junior as a young teenager in Jamaica, waiting patiently for the public viewing of Bob Marley, one of his earliest idols. A life inspired by using music to connect spirits, places, and lives. As the summer clouds pass today in Providence, I am reminded of the hope and promise of each new day. I slowly wait for the season to change. Autumn leaves to remind us that change is constant, but love is forever. I live in the thoughts of a friend who profoundly impacted my life. I live in gratitude and love, as he did. His memory is my treasure, tucked away in the folds of my heart. I will always count August clouds as they pass. I will always remember him, Lake Superior blue in the background beneath the shining sun.

photo credit: Lisa Venticinque