One Sunday, I had a significant experience. For no reason that I can think of, a song I hadn’t heard or thought about since I was ten years old came into my stream of consciousness that made a profound impression on me:
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night
Alive as you and me
Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead”
“I never died” says he
“I never died” says he
“In Salt Lake City, Joe,” says I, in standing by my bed
“They framed you on a murder charge”
Says Joe “But I ain’t dead”
Says Joe “But I ain’t dead”
“The Copper Bosses killed you Joe;
They shot you Joe” says I
“Takes more than guns to kill a man”
Says Joe “I didn’t die”
Says Joe “I didn’t die”
And standing there as big as life
And smiling with his eyes
Says Joe “What they could never kill
Went on to organize
Went on to organize”
From San Diego up to Maine
In every mine and mill
Where workers defend their rights
It’s there you find Joe Hill
It’s there you find Joe Hill!
Personally, I had been dealing with the death of my wife, June, for almost a year, and with this song, I realized that as long as I’m alive June will never be dead. So much of the time, when I think about June, she’s everywhere, like in all the interior decorations she put into our apartment; I remember tracking down light sconces for the living room and the incredible work she put in with the designer to make a Louis XIV style mantel for our living room. I always remember her face of anticipation waiting for the next House Beautiful to arrive.
I would like to share three particularly significant items that remind me of June and our sixty-year marriage: In December of 1961, I was in an automobile accident on my way to a concert which never got played. June and I had met only six months earlier, but she knew that I liked chess and was interested in it, so she came to the hospital with a beautiful chess set, which I still have and love. It wasn’t only that she came with a chess set, which would have been thoughtful enough, but that the one that she brought was truly beautiful, ornate, and very expensive. She must have put her monthly budget aside to buy it for me.
Like every other Jewish boy, I received a beautiful gold watch with a leather strap for my Bar Mitzvah. I can’t express in words how much I loved that beautiful gold Longine watch. At one point, I leant it to my mother, and, at some point, it disappeared. The loss of that watch, while not dominating my consciousness, left a hole in me that was never going to be filled. Obviously, over many years, I hardly thought about it, until my 39th birthday, when June presented me with an identical and equally expensive Longine Five-Star Admiral with a lovely leather strap. It made me feel like my life was finally complete.
At one point early in my career, I was having serious difficulties involving numbness in my right and left arms. I consulted with a Dr. Simione who told me that I couldn’t sit at the edge of my chair without having these complications going down my arms. When I explained to him that I couldn’t play the cello any other way sitting as I did, he explained to me that if I didn’t change, I wouldn’t be able to play the cello at all, in a relatively short time. June solved the problem for me by going to an upholstery store and getting five cushions made with hard foam and nice colors, which I used until the very end of my career.
Every time I look at any of these things, she’s there.
Most of all, I can’t listen to or watch any of our videos or recordings without feeling that we were not just playing together, but speaking to each other through the music: