A Holiday Invitation, Please Pass it On

December 21st, 2020 by David Weiss

Don’t we all want to make a difference?

No matter what role we’ve sought out for ourselves in music—artist, engineer, producer, a hybrid combo, maybe an audio journalist like me—that’s the dream above all else. If we strike the right chord, maybe we can change another person’s life a little. Or a lot.

I have a longtime friend named Grant Dermody, an inimitable harmonica player from Seattle with a knack for making a difference. Grant is an unassuming force in American roots music, a master of his instrument who can make his harp rumble like a freight train, sidle up like a soul singer, purr like a cat, and ring out in a rhythmic dance.

Harmonica artist Grant Dermody

I love the way Grant sings too, with his honest vocal approach that resonates in the direct center of your chest. Some of my favorite Americana albums are his solo works, like 2015’s Sun Might Shine On Me, 2010’s Lay Down My Burden, and this year’s Chicago blues-rich new collection, My Dony.

I got a holiday email from Grant the other day, a note that he sent to me along with other friends on his list, and it reminded me of the many ways we all can make a difference.

Turns out, we can do it with more than music. And if we do it Grant’s way, we can make a direct connection as we go, something that’s even more rewarding in this holiday season of Zoom gatherings.

I’m publishing Grant’s email here with his permission. If it gives you a similarly kind idea that you can put in motion, to touch someone’s life in a new way this holiday season or in the New Year, all the better. I hope his message inspires you the way it inspired me.

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My favorite part of Christmas, for years, was singing carols at my dear friend Marilyn’s house the Sunday before Christmas. We’d sing around her neighborhood, and come back to the condo she shared with her husband Michael. We’d have sandwiches and tea, or something stronger to drink, sit in a huge circle, and sing carols for each other. We kept going until everyone’s favorite carol was sung. Michael’s favorite was “Wind Through the Olive Trees.” He always cried as we were singing for him. It was always a warm, loving, beautiful evening.

Often, we would sing with Marilyn on Christmas Day at Harborview hospital as well. There were always four of us: Marilyn, Rich, our long-time soul-friend and amazing singer, my wife Eileen and me. Sometimes additional singers would show up, more often it was just us. We’d sing for the patients in the Burn Ward, ICU, pediatrics, and anywhere else they wanted us. We’d also sing for the nurses, doctors, technicians and all other hospital workers. Again, we’d sing everyone’s favorite carols and spread the joy of music as best we could.

The joy of the season and the rituals honed over those many years, centered with, and revolved around Marilyn and her enormous capacity for love, joy and giving. We all played our parts, and brought our own magical energy to the moments. But Marilyn was the catalyst and the traditions had much to do with her.

Only Rich and I are left from the Harborview Four. Eileen passed 11 years ago this month. Marilyn passed a year ago last July. Rich and I are determined to keep the singing going. This year, of course, we won’t be singing at Harborview, or in anyone’s home, for obvious reasons.

Last Christmas, the first without Marilyn, I felt a deep need to establish a new Christmas tradition. Music is always a part of the holidays, and I am determined to find ways and places to spread the joy of music during the holidays, but I needed to do some deeper giving. I wanted to honor Marilyn, and her generous loving spirit in some way with my new tradition. I also wanted to honor Eileen and her incredible capacity for deep wisdom and compassion. After some thought and meditation, I went into a clothing store on University Way in Seattle, on Christmas Eve, and bought $200 worth of warm ski caps. Eileen and I loved skiing together.

I walked up and down the Ave looking for people who looked cold and looked like they’d be sleeping outside. I asked them if they’d like a warm hat. Almost everyone said yes. I then headed up and down Broadway, again passing out hats to any and all takers. $200 buys a lot of hats, as it turns out. In Seattle, in late December, it’s in the 30’s at night and is steadily wet and damp, and the cold goes right through you. Hopefully, a few people had warmer nights that Christmas Eve.

This year, I’m in Louisiana, I can’t travel to Seattle due to Covid, and I’m going to continue this new giving tradition. I’m going to buy some warm hats, and this year I’m adding wool socks and scarves and gloves to the giving. I’m asking some of the outdoor and recreation stores in town if they’ll donate some warm clothing. I’m going to pass out clothing in Lafayette, and I’m planning to get to New Orleans as well.

I’m inviting you to join me if it resonates and feels right to you. Maybe you’d like to pass out warm clothing, or whatever else you choose, in your own town or city. Or maybe you already have your own tradition of giving. If you’d like to help me, you are welcome to send me warm clothing to pass along. Packages will reach me at PO Box 3285 Lafayette LA 70502. Monetary donations can be made by checks sent to the same address, or via Paypal using this email address (gdermody@yahoo.com) for the payee.

All the very best, and many blessings to each and all of you. May you and all those you love be safe and warm.

Grant

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