In one of those rare, out-of-context moments that could only take place in New York City, I met Walter Becker last year as I was struggling to get past the death of my beloved Mother. You've all had those out-of-context moments, where you meet someone and they look familiar, but you just can't quite place them...
Those of you writing on this forum write about Walter Becker the famous musician. Forgive me, but I just want to write a few words in tribute to the OTHER Walter, the smart and funny gentleman who helped me many times, even though we were total strangers. It's a side his fans probably never saw. I still miss him.
I visited the Hawaiian Lantern Floating Ceremony website recently, and submitted my Mother's name for a lantern to be floated this Memorial Day in Honolulu. On a whim, I submitted Walter's name also. The ceremony will be broadcast live at: lanternfloatinghawaii.com. Have a look. Perhaps you will see Walter's name float past. Even if you don't, please remember him kindly.
To view a very touching 5 minute video from the 2016 ceremony, see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tfLL16XrLc.
Extending Sincere Sympathies to WB family and friends.
Story number two, the longest of the stories:
One time Walter asked me if I played music. Sheepishly, I said no and told him I spent 14 years taking piano lessons and never made it out of the second book. I played guitar for 3 years, and can’t play either of the two guitars I own. Castanets? Own them, can’t play them. Tambourine? Own it, can’t play it. No rhythm. Sang in college chorus four years. I was so off key the professor allowed me to stay because he needed to fill up the stage with bodies, but he asked me to “please sing very softly.” Like Salieri, I ached to play music, but musical talent was not given to me by God.
Truthfully, I told Walter that I have numerical dyslexia, but not alphabetical dyslexia. There is some recent evidence that people who have numerical dyslexia can never learn music of any kind. Walter looked at me with great skepticism. I told him numerical dyslexia even has a name. It’s called dyscalculia. It was obviously a new word for him. He muttered it over and over, perhaps 20 times or more. You could almost see his brain chewing on every syllable while he mumbled, “Dyscalculia. Dys-cal-cu-lia. DYS cal cu LIA.” He began pacing back and forth as he muttered, staring down at his shoes. Suddenly he spun around to me and said, “Sounds like a venereal disease!”
Walter. One of a kind.