December, 31st, 2010.
Good question today, this comes from Luna from Lima, Peru.
About three years ago I was walking down Addison St. in Berkeley on a cold fall night, alone. I was pretty blue. Mairrage ended, kids traumatized by this fissure in their lives. Frankly, I was just frickin’ lonely as hell. I had my hands deep inside my jacket pockets, an old bomber jacket I lucked into at a thrift. Real patina from age, worn- in shearling lining. I started thinking of who might have worn this coat, a pilot, a sailor who travelled the world as a Merchant Marine? I started to travel a bit in my mind when a voice drifted into my head out of nowhere, “My name is the Baron Phillipe de Mouton Cadet Rothschild and I crashed my plane into the Baltic sea in 1925, was saved by making a deal with the Devil, and this is how my story begins.”
Now, I’m no Joan of Arc. When I “heard” this voice, I think it was a mix of what I needed to hear, my imagination, and the spirits and Muses in the ether. I needed guidance and wisdom, more than could be found in a book of philosophy. Maybe I just needed a friend.
This Baron with the long name morphed into The Great Zamboni, who has morphed into Zambones, or as he likes to be called now, simply the Zambonesman. (“‘Great‘ sounds rather silly” he explained yesterday to me “like I am going to pull rabbit from hat.”) Gradually it started to become less about my own problems. I started to perform this Zambones in front of others, and I found he made people laugh, and sometimes seemed to enlighten them a little, or at least lighten them up a bit.
So here I am, three years later and the Zambonesmen continues to be one way I navigate through this world.
As the year ends, I want to thank you for visiting this virtual place, and I hope that it gives you some very non-virtual guidance, laughter, or something.
I wish you much joy this year, Zambonesman has flown private jet back to Estonia to be with special friend for the night at Estonian Hilton. They have New Years package with champagne and buffet breakfast, only 24 Estonian Kroons.
Today I turn forty-three, may the fates choose to keep me going, and you, a long time in health.
2 thoughts on “Jordan is asked “Where did Zamboni come from and is it you?””
Happy Birthday Jordan (& maestro Z).
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Such beautiful words, and because they are beautiful, so true. I am graced by this comment from you….