Jeff Beck & “The Grease”

 

It’s Monday, May 18th, Denise "The Grease" and I are sitting in the Nom Wah Tea Parlor on Doyers Street in Chinatown having lunch eating various dim sum dishes, and drinking Anxi Tie Guanyin tea.  We’re making plans for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend.  My daughters are flying out from Cali, and we're having an extended girls weekend at the beach house a.k.a "The Sandbox" out in Southampton, Long Island.   My daughters have called "The Grease", "Aunt Denise", since they were children.

After lunch, we’re walking down Canal Street headed to The Button Factory.  Along the way I buy some fruit, and we check to see what the street vendors have today, but it’s just the usual assortment of counterfeit Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, and Rolex. 



"The Grease" complains of a headache she woke up with, which we dismiss as being a result of the heatwave New York is currently in the middle of (it’s 1 PM, and my phone reads 92°F: 33°C).  She stops at a street vendor who's selling BIC lighters, buys a 3pack, reaches in to her shoulder bag, pulls out a joint and say's "This should take care of the headache!" and laughs. 

As we're walking, I take a hit and hear, "Babs I got something you're gonna love 'ova hea'!"  It's Barney, a street vendor who sometimes has interesting vinyl and CDs.  He hands me a CD and says, "It's a 'collectas' item, right?"  The CD is a sealed Hybrid SACD, of Jeff Beck's 'Truth', a reissue from 2017 on the Audio Fidelity label, which is quite the find.  I put on my not impressed face, and ask Barney, "How much?", "Twenty" replies Barney (this means he wants $15).  We do "the dance" $10—$18—$12—$15—Sold!  
Barney is such a character, straight out of a Damon Runyon story.

"The Grease" says "I can't believe how hot and thirsty I am."  Thinking we're probably both slightly dehydrated, I suggest we go into a store for some Gatorade (a sport's drink with electrolytes), which we both chug down.  When we get to my street in Tribeca, "The Grease" takes a bad step on the curb — something is not right with her.

Once back at The Button Factory, the central air conditioning is a welcome relief, we drink some water.  "The Grease" slurs a few words and laughs, but she smiles with only half her face.  I think to myself, "She's having a freaking stroke!", and I tell her "I'm calling 911". She looks a little confused and nods her head.

The ambulance arrives and a few minutes later we're at New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan Hospital.  They ask me if I am a family member, and I lie telling them "I'm her sister".  After three hours in the waiting room, I'm stressed beyond belief, a doctor comes in and tells me, "Your sister Denise had a Transient Ischemic Attack, which is basically a mini stroke.  I preformed a carotid artery angioplasty and stenting on her, and we're keeping her overnight.  She will be just fine".  A few minutes later a nurse takes me to see "The Grease".  When I see her she says, "Hi Sis!".  We laugh, and I tell her that she should stay at The Button Factory for a few days, and I'll go to her place and grab some clothes, and be back tomorrow.

When I get home I call my eldest daughter, who's an OB/GYN in Los Altos, California.  She rattles of a list of "dos and don'ts" for "The Grease" like an amphetamine fueled auctioneer.  Then we make plans for Wednesday when she and her sister arrive in New York.  Then I call "The Grease's" brother Vinny "The One", and inform him of the day's events.

The next day, I get "The Grease" back to The Button Factory, and all things considered she's in good spirits.  Early afternoon, Vinny "The One" arrives and stays a few hours, we have some laughs reminiscing about the old days in Brooklyn Heights.  After he leaves, I go into the bathroom, and leaning against the mirror is an envelope, the handwriting on it reads, "For insidental (sic) expenses, thanks Babs", the envelope contains twenty-five hundred dollars in small bills — a classic Vinny "The One" move.  Later, mutual friends stop by, and I make a Mediterranean vegetarian style dinner. 

Wednesday morning I can see a big improvement in "The Grease".  When my daughters arrive, my eldest is all business.  In her carry on bag is a stethoscope and portable blood pressure monitor, and she goes about the business of examining "The Grease", checking her meds etc. and then they play "twenty questions".  One of the questions my daughter asked was, "Do you know who the President is?" to which The Grease answered "Yes", I looked at my youngest, and we both started quietly laughing (my youngest and I are "trouble").  My youngest quips, "What round is it?", "Not funny" snapped my eldest.  I suggest we cancel going to the beach house, and my daughter says, "I'm more than happy with her condition, and she's perfectly fine to travel".  She smiles and says "We just won't take her dancing".  "Oh! A wise guy, eh?" said "The Grease" in her best Curly Howard voice—that was when I knew she was OK.  The four of us started in with "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!"," I'm tryin' to think, but nothin' happens!", "I'm a victim of soicumstance!" and "Soitenly!".  When the girls were little they used to watch The Three Stooges with "The Grease".

So here we are, it's Sunday we're in Southampton, and having a wonderful time, and "The Grease" is back to herself.  We're staying for a few more days.

It's been one hell of a week, and I'd like to thank one and all for all your well-wishes.

Here's a link to a 24bit/88.2kHz SACD rip of Jeff Beck's 'Truth'

https://workupload.com/file/hWNa4PFuZ97