Music & Family

Let me introduce my Auntie Jeanne. She opened up our FaceTime call with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young playing on her Alexa in the background. "I'm sure you know that, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young?" she says. David Crosby died on January 18th. "81 years old, he lived a good life. He partied hard. But, it's sad. That's who I grew up with, you know?" She dives into questions about my college life, and I tell her I'm going to the winter formal tonight and her first question is about the music. "I wanna see pictures later! And I'm sure there's music. Do you all play?" I tell her no, they hired a band, and that I think the live music is better than a DJ, and she responds, "You don't have to tell me that, I know."

Auntie Jeanne is my Sittoo's (a Lebanese word for "grandma") sister. Suffice to say, Lebanese households are musical. "Look at Middle Eastern music, too, I mean, come on," she responds. "Nobody has a beat like we do."

In Fall River, Massachusetts, Jeanne had a restaurant and club for over 20 years. She's working on selling the building in the coming weeks, but can't let it go without a final goodbye. "We planned a big party, a musical reunion...you know, bands that played there all the time, that were a part of Water Street...these people were my musical life for 20-plus years." She tells me about how music brought people together at Water Street. She saw couples meet and fall in love there, all because the music brought them to the same place. They had bands all weekend, and eventually, Jeanne and my uncle Jim decided to host the Sunday Jams themselves. "It was my release. Like, I used to live for Sunday, because that was when I would heal my soul."

She continues to tell me about the Sunday Jams. She talks about how she felt standing between all the musicians, how she's regretful she didn't pick up an instrument, how it's the best feeling to be on stage. "Standing in between the music...the drums behind me, and the bass beside me, and the guitar, and the saxophones, I mean, that's, like, the best feeling in the world...it brings out every emotion. It defines us and it unites us. It's everything."

Jeanne stresses the idea of playing music for music's sake. "With Water Street, the room is about music. It's not a bar, that has music, it's music, and we have a bar." With the musical reunion, she tells me about how it to work with other musicians again. "I'm not starting a band at this juncture," she says. "Maybe someday, once we hit the islands...I've said this for years. Put me on an island, put me in a moo moo, give me a joint, play the music, I'm happy...just sing and have music in my life everyday. Not that I need the joint..."

I ask about the music in her home growing up. "Well you know Giddoo, his voice, of an angel, I mean, I know I sing because of my father. I have his soul. I feel him when I sing." She is talking about my great grandfather, Giddoo (a Lebanese word for "grandpa") Joe. "He loved Ella Fitzgerald. He loved jazz...I remember him playing this music alongside the Lebanese music. Our house was always popping." Being the youngest, Jeanne learned the 60s pop music her older sisters loved. "All of those oldies before rock and roll really took over, I loved all that, too."

"Joni." The answer to my question about the most important music in her life. "Joni. She's my go to...'Case Of You.' I'll be cleaning and cooking...'god, what do I wanna listen to, oh, Alexa, play Joni Mitchell!'"

One of my burning questions is about the concerts she went to. "I mean, so many. When we were kids, we went to concerts 3, 4, 5 times a month because they were so cheap!...Memorable? Greg Allman. Laid Back. You know the song 'These Days?' Listen to it." She tells me to listen to the album. "Sly and the Family Stone, Earth, Wind & Fire...Pink Floyd, Arizona - I love you, I'm not gonna give you all the details, but it was amazing." She actually met Pink Floyd at a truck stop the day after. If you hadn't noticed, my Auntie Jeanne is pretty damn cool.

Auntie Jeanne ends our discussion by asking me to send her videos when I write music. Her spirituality surrounding music inspires me. "You are music," she tells me. "I don't know what I would do without music." I wholeheartedly agree.