CO-OP PRESS

Featuring the music of Sy Brandon

Songs of Youth (2000) (Baritone and Piano) - “Songs of Youth” reflects experiences of Dr. Bob Feinberg, who after several years as a professional trumpet player, has devoted his life to healing arts as owner of the Feinberg Chiropractic Clinic in Columbus, Georgia. Dr. Feinberg has been writing poetry for several years, much of it reflecting his youthful idealism and struggles. Feinberg and Brandon have been friends for over 45 years. These songs may be performed individually or as a set. Duration 10:00 Grade 4 $15.00

Loneliness

No one prepared me for the loneliness

Of going away at seventeen.

It was like diving into a pool forgetting to test the water

Talk to me about suprises

Leaving the safety of my home

with everything in its familiar place

for the mysterious unpredictable future

For a moment I thought it was an April fools joke someone was playing,

and then I remembered it was September,

the day after my sister's wedding festivities which went on forever,

until everyone went back to their routine lives,

Except me.

Not a soul asked what I was feeling

Everyone caught up in their own net of fear

too busy to recognize the pain of a liittle boy frozen in a teenage body,

hoping that someone would save from the mad idea of leaving security for an education

Persistent thoughts of getting sick were overwhelming,

springing from the dread of facing another day of being alone.

Making friends at school? Not much chance.

So many self-centered aspiring artists,

too busy indulging themselves in the visualization of their future stardom.

My roomate next door protecting himself like a mother lion her cubs

and I

Assuming a trance-like state by my window wishing a post-hypnotic suggestion would send me back home.

Days seemed to go on forever.

My mind fooling me into believing I was a prisoner serving a sentence for asking for money needed for survival.

Not a soul asked what I was feeling, or heard my pain.

Trips home on weekends were sweet,

filled with the smell of Mom's roast chicken practically reaching every two floor home on State Street

Sleeping in the comfort and safety of my own room and the delicious feeling of hearing the calm breathing of my little brother.

Then there was Sunday

probably better to call it a day of mourning.

Starting to think of the drive to the railroad and saying goodbye, the eerie feeling of resuming my constant state of unhappiness

Always lonqing for a girl to share my feelings with and thinking one would soon enter my life.

So much for positive thinking

Weeks and weeks of visits home and trips of grief back. Until a miracle happened. June came.

It was not a dream,

I was ecstatic, finally imagining happiness coming back into my life.

Leaving all those lonely feelings behind was like waking up to the sounds of waves gently stroking the giant rocks on the edge of a quiet beach.

Life,went on after that year and the valuable lesson of being able to endure

Copright 1997 by Bob Feinberg

Jazz Heaven

While guys were getting wasted

and drag racing their chevys

Our Friday nights were filled with the sounds of 33 1/3 's

spinning round and around

with Ella,Dizzy,Coltrane,and Brownie making sweet music

From one note to the next

one phrase to another

Piano, bass, drums keeping a flawless circular rhythm we wished would never end

and then one of the horn players would play a line that could drive you out of your seat

thinking Life is so beautiful

And when the last chord was played

you knew that what you had heard

was a gift from Jazz Heaven.

Copyright 1997 by Bob Feinberg

CARMINE

He sat in an old chair in a funky room on the sixth floor of a Manhattan building in a t-shirt and slacks

Just being who he was with no strings attached.

The room had stacks of manuscript paper that had yellowed from age

I wasn't sure what to expect on our first meeting

I hoped the room was no indication of his ability to teach me

He carefully watched me take my horn out of its case

A sign to him of how confident a player I was

He gave me the first exercise to play

G chromatically up to C

While tapping my foot to keep time,

I played the most powerful six notes of my life

and patiently he said, keep the air moving, keep the air moving

Somehow I began to feel a confidence in my playing never before felt

You see Carmine had an innate sense of giving people what they needed.

His attention, His ability to stay in the present moment

I knew he was giving me more than notes to play

He gave all of himself.

His intent was to love

That is why he was great

Only praise came from dear Carmine's lips

I don't think he knew how to criticize.

His attitude about mistakes I made?

simple he'd say,

Why do they put erasers on pencils?

I get it, no big deal

That's right, keep the air moving, keep the air moving

I went home after my first meeting with Carmine and played notes higher than I thought possible.

I practiced with enthusiasm, always hearing Carmine's encouraging voice inside my head.

It would be no exaggeration to say that he was the greatest loving influence on my life.

He passed a few years ago and the world lost a man whose mission was to teach through love.

Copyright 1997 by Bob Feinberg