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I N - T H I S - I S S U E :
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Theme For Donald Walden
And now, one month later, his family and friends gathered to remember him, to pay respects to that spirit, to laugh, to share stories. The room at Haley Funeral Home was packed, alternately hushed and boisterous as stories were told, remembrances were offered, and musicians filled the space with melodies. Melba Boyd's touching thoughts and beautiful poem summed up our thoughts. Robert McCarther's heartfelt singing of "A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square." a Walden favorite, with Robert's added lyric, summed up our feelings. The Free Radical Sextet and numerous musical friends expressed our love for Donald Walden. That Walden celebrated Mingus and Monk is no surprise — like them, he was demanding, passionate, honest, and unique. He had a built-in "bullshit detector" which never failed. He was strong and confident, sure and certain, an African American man who carried himself with dignity and respect, a Griot who spoke to us of life and love through his music and his words. Donald was interested in creativity in any field, and he was a cultural warrior, ably championing jazz in performance and conversation. He was a humane and spiritual person who eschewed religious trappings. And he had soul, plenty plenty soul, and a keen sense of history. He knew that jazz is a flowering of African American culture, but Donald also knew that the creator is colorblind, and acted accordingly. Donald's homegoing continued at Bert's Marketplace, where his friends hugged and laughed and played music and consoled ourselves with the knowledge that his spirit, like the music of Monk and Mingus, will always be among us, an example of human expression at its finest. I N - T H I S - I S S U E : |
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onald Walden's death on April 6 sent shock waves through our community. He was two years into his battle against cancer, and after hearing him play so wonderfully at the SOCC's tribute last month, we hoped that he might have gotten the upper hand. Leading his Free Radicals (a term Walden discovered while researching cancer therapies) through a short set of originals, Donald sounded like a million bucks, doubtless responding to the love he felt and which surrounded him. His spirit, if not his body, had triumphed.