In Memoriam Page Wilson: Oh, Didn't He Ramble - Sat, 03/19/2011

I would so love to hear this. Is it possible to get a recording? or to just hear it once? I am not done missing my old friend, and could use the company. Am a long way from Virginia right now.

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Thanks, Steve, for today's memorial--I really needed that, and I think a lot of other listeners did, too. We really are a kind of family, and I didn't realize quite how much until the loss of Page from its midst. We have all been grieving his loss, too. When I heard his song play just before the 4 p.m. news, my heart made me stop in that way it does once it realizes something has gone very, very wrong. I called the station, and heard the real news, news that mattered personally--he was gone. As instructed, I went to the paper's website, and saw it in print. Someone from the ballet phoned. We both were shocked. She listened whenever she wasn't performing. My daughter was stunned, as well. It was the only news that mattered because it hit home. Where the heart is.

I have this station on 24/7, quite literally, and I often have it on loud, to hear it while I'm gardening. People walk by and say, "Your house is talking!" Yep. And it speaks in many voices, too. My favorite show started with yours, Greta's, and most recently, Ian Stewart's. If I was at home on Saturday evenings, of course, Page's show was always there with me, too, surprising me and making me feel that all was right with the world.

I wondered what had happened when I didn't hear Page this Saturday. Something had gone wrong. The world order had changed and, to be honest, my first thought was that maybe those jerks in Congress had already started pulling out some plugs--you just never know what to expect from lunatics, so it was entirely possible. But then I thought, nah, it wouldn't happen that way. It's something else.

But, of course, this was never the "something else" that ever crossed my mind. Never. He was always so full of compassion, so witty, so full of life--it never entered my mind.

My neighbor, Sam, is a chef here in town. He learned his art and craft from his daddy, who was a chef well before he became a glimmer in his daddy's eye. A tiny little guy, Sam's dad was wise about a great deal in life. Whenever he came to visit his son, he'd sit there in the garden while I was weeding, and we'd talk gardens. We'd talk kids (he'd had over a dozen of 'em, I think). We'd talk whatever was growing--lettuce, purple beans that turn green when theyr'e cooked, leeks, eggplants and--tomatoes. You don't talk gardens without talking food. And you don't do either without knowing the sources of life: creativity. Creative sorts such as cooks often know a lot about life, I think, because they're responsible for keeping it going. Cooks know that without the body, the spirit's going to go elsewhere. He'd been ill for awhile, and so he'd just visit with his son and grandkids there, and visit my garden, then Sam would drive his daddy back home. Now he's really back Home, all the way back to wherever that source may be. He was a good man.

After he died, Page did a concert in honor of him because, well, Chef Graham used to feed all the hungry musicians who'd play that venue. He'd never said a word about having done that. He'd always just spoke of what he knew, which he knew with authority, yet with a humility, both of which allowed him to hold his head up with a perfect kind of balance, even as his body was failing. I was so touched to know Page would do this, sooo touched--because I'd known how special a guy he'd been to me; turns out, he'd been that way with a whole lot of folks. And so did Page know how special he was. Page was one who clearly never forgot a favor in his life, and who just as clearly gave out quite a few on his own part, as well.

Musicians are among those creative sorts who know a lot about life, too. Our artists are responsible for fueling the spirit. Because as important as the body might be, without the spirit, the body's going nowhere fast.

You guys give fuel to our spirits--whether you play music, or play the music that others play. No one did that with quite the style that Page had, and I truly believe he was among the best DJs the nation has ever had. He had a way with words and images that was unique--an artist through and through. He did it well because he knew his purpose: to keep it going. To keep us going.

Even though he came across with great professionalism, still, you knew the show and its purpose was a personal thing with him. I loved the way he'd say goodnight to his little girl during the show. He didn't just bring us into his "home at the Chickahominy Swamp," describing its views and sounds as its nature ushered in the new phases of the seasons. He brought us into his heart, and we knew that.

In fact, I always felt his song should be the state song, and I need to know why that never happened, and why that appalling tune can't be properly replaced. In fact, I'd like us to mount a campaign with the General Assembly and the governor to get his song to its rightful place as the Commonwealth's official song. Gauging from the comments at the newspaper article's website, many others feel the same.

If ever a good person existed, anyone knew without a doubt that Page Wilson was exactly that. You just knew that he was could not be fabricated nor faked--you knew he was real. I'm sad not just because we've lost that golden voice, with those honeyed turns of phrase he had a way of so smoothly letting roll from his mouth. I'm sad that we didn't have whatever he'd needed to keep HIM going.

So, that was a great memorial tribute you offered up for him today, Steve. It meant a lot to me--and as well, I know, to the whole "family." Thanks for giving us what we needed.

Marilyn

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