Link to Original Slideshow by Astairical
POST-IT NOTES: I found this rhapsodic (in blue) tribute a few years ago, God knows where, and took a liking to it immediately. I had been trying to chop my way through a 900-page tome on Gershwin's life (90% of it was a minute and detailed dissection of the show tunes he wrote before he became really famous; only one chapter 50 pages long was devoted to "Gershwin the Man".) When I found this, I thought - hey, why not? This fan tribute really gives us the essence of who and what Gershwin was. It's also plain this girl was CRAZY ABOUT THE MAN - mad about the boy - and expressed it in contemporary language that I actually find quite charming. I blew it up here to make the text more readable. I don't know what happened to Astairical after this - haven't been able to find anything on her (at least I THINK it's a her), but this stands as one of the most unusual Gershwin tributes - hell, one of the best tributes ANYWHERE about ANYONE or ANYTHING, period!
As with Dylan, I'm drawn back to Gershwin cyclically, pulled back into his orbit again and again. There were similarities: Gershwin broke all the rules, all the while beguiling his public with a magnetism that is hard to describe. But unlike Dylan, who is still doing amazingly well at age 80, he died horribly of an undiagnosed and agonizing brain tumor at only 38. Because his death on the operating table was so shocking and unexpected, it's possible he did not know he was dead, which can cause a great deal of spiritual disorientation. It's said that his ghost roams freely, and even his brother Ira, who did NOT believe in such things, saw him waving at him from his study shortly after he passed. Ira did not tell anyone about this until he was on his deathbed, afraid people would think he was crazy. But others saw him too: sitting mischievously at a player piano in a town square, hurrying along the street with his head down, his face just visible in a crowd - no, wait a minute, it COULDN'T be.
I myself felt a visitation. I can't prove or disprove this, but it was a gift, so I don't throw it away. Paul Biscop, a former friend and spiritualist medium, had a way of disparaging MY experiences (though his were always bona fide - he had two Masters degrees and a PhD, so anything he said about spiritualism automatically trumped mine, and he often wrote off the experiences I shared with him as "fantasies").
I won't write a lot about how he died, but I had my mojo working on him not long before that: I made a formal request, or spell, or whatever you want to call it, not that he'd die or anything, or even suffer, but that he'd SEE, for once and for all, just how destructive his dismissive behaviour could be, how hurtful to others his pose as a "nice" person who had a very dark heart. I will admit this involved beads, candles, incense, chanting, and even a little Haitian voodoo. Some of it I had learned in a course I took from Paul called The Anthropology of Religion.
Paul had dissed my Gershwin connection, the powerful sense I'd somehow - I can't explain it - "felt" him steal into the room, wordlessly, longing to connect with someone who would believe in him and deeply listen. I wrote about this in a blog post I've re-posted several times called Gershwin's Ghost.
So what's the message here? Nothing, except that dear George still inspires strong feelings, and he DOES hang around because of the unfairness and confusion of his early death, his head cracked open by ignorant surgeons only to find a grapefruit-sized tumor that had been there for years, causing him agonizing pain and ruining his co-ordination so he couldn't even play the piano any more. Right up until his death, his deterioration had been considered a manifestation of "neurosis". He deserved so much more than that. Incredibly, he wrote the exquisite song But Not for Me very shortly before he died - kind of ironic, considering the circumstances:
"They're writing songs of love, but not for me
A lucky star's above, but not for me
With love to lead the way, I've found more clouds of grey
Than any Russian play could guarantee. . ."