Last week I had a party for a few clients and friends ( See Party Pics).  I made gumbo for several days.

Maybe as much as a couple of gallons. In my desire to be a gracious host, I also ordered another 3/4 gallon from Marcela’s in Pioneer Square.  The top chef and co-owner is Anthony a true New Orleans son who migrated here after the distructive storms of earlier in this decade. As traditional and reminiscent of New Orleans fare as I’ve tasted in Seattle. Check it out!

In the end, I had three gumbo offerings: sausage and chicken (from Marcela’s); andouille sausage, shrimp, chicken; and, turkey sausage, chicken, shrimp and okra. Sorry no vegetarian gumbo…

My event was a big success and I was pleased with the turn out and food.  Although copious amounts of gumbo were consumed, I ended up with about one gallon that I continue to enjoy.

At the same time as my friends and I were celebrating life, a long time business chum passed away. It’s always hard to talk about death, but in David Azose’s death I discovered an abundance of life and tradition. I attended his funeral. I was unaware but David was a Jewish and the funeral seemed to be very traditional, possibly Reform Jewish.

I arrived minutes before the ceremony and was greeted to my delight by a full auditorium. First, I sat next to a woman who discreetly informed me the men sat on the right.  I turned to see most of them wore yamakas.  The rabbi spoke eloquently in Hebrew and English. After a few minutes, a simple pine or wooden casket was wheeled by me to the front. I  have been to less than a dozen funerals in my life and I was a bit surprised and discomforted by the casket being wheeled down the aisle.  Reflecting on this mild discomfort, I also reveled in the tradition and reverence extended. There were many stirring reflections on David’s life. It was clear of the countless ways in which David touched so very many people.  In less than an hour the service was over.

Afterward, I  drove to the corner, parked for a moment, cried, took in the experience and began to move through my day. As the day continued to unfold, I reflected on that hour of love, mourning, grief and the appreciation of being allowed a moment with death, remembrance and ultimately underscoring how thankful I am for having this time. Although these are tough times, as a middle class American and artist, I am thankful I can provide a needed service mostly on my own terms and live in a remarkable city…