(Prefer to hear me tell this story? Simply tap the play button above)
I just got off the phone with one of my dearest girlfriends, Kate.
She and I met inside a personal development container a few years back, and since that time, we’ve had a monthly, 60-minute call where we catch up on the good, and not-so-good pieces of our lives.
Today Kate shared that she’s recently began taking piano lessons alongside Norah, one of her two young daughters.
And as she mentioned, it’s not because she trying to become some “world-class pianist…” but instead, because learning to play the piano had been a dream of hers since she was the same age as her daughter, Norah.
And now, life’s finally slowed down just enough to allow her to make that happen.
Kate laughed through clenched teeth while explaining how unfair it felt watching her mini-me pick up things so quickly, while she struggles to keep up.
That said, underneath the frustration, I could also hear just how proud she is of her baby girl’s impressively growing ability.
“Dude, it’s not like I’m trying to get good enough to perform in front of anyone,” she said in her thicker-than-mud Midwestern accent.
“I just wanna be able to sit down once in my life and perfectly play ‘Hey Jude,’ ya know what I mean?!”
The moment those words left her lips and entered my earbuds, hair-raising chills ran down my spine.
“Actually, I know exactly what you mean,” I thought to myself.
Immediately, I was back in The Windy City.
Back to a chapter of my life where I’d followed a Polish girl to Chicago.
We’d moved there from London so that she could be close to her parents who’d immigrated to the States a few years before.
For those of you who might not know, the only city in the world that has more Polish people in it than Chicago is the capital of Poland itself, Warsaw. That’s how many Polish people live in Chicago.
Consequently, my girlfriend at the time was able to find a job that paid “under the table” quite easily. So we decided to temporarily work and save enough money from there to start traveling again.
Long story short, at one of the places I worked, one of my coworkers there — Jeremy — ended up becoming one of my closest friends ever.
Jeremy was a musician — and an insanely talented one at that.
One day, on one of our mutual off-days, he asked if I wanted to come hang out with him at a recording studio he’d rented for the afternoon.
I vividly remember feeling all giddy inside because, for as much as I love music, I’d never before been inside a real music studio.
As we walked in, the guy running the place shook both our hands, flipped the lights on the smaller end of the studio, then disappeared and left us on our own.
It was every musician’s dream in there.
The entire room was all black and covered in electric & acoustic guitars, drums, amps, headphones, microphones, and massive speakers towering from its corners.
It felt like we’d just stepped inside a whole new world.
“Give me a second to warm up,” Jeremy then says to me all casually.
“Sure, man. I’ll just be over here taking it all in,” I replied.
Jeremy walked over to the massive grand piano sat in the corner, while humming out loud:
“La la la la la la, laaaaa… La la la la la laaaaa.”
Again and again.
He then takes the final swig of his coffee and, in one fell swoop, yanks the silky maroon drape off the piano.
“The piano? This dude can play the fuckin’ piano?” I thought to myself.
Though I have zero musical talent myself, I’d thrown one of the acoustic guitars over my chest and sat on a stool facing Jeremy.
You could’ve heard a pin drop in that place.
He cleared his throat one last time.
Seconds later, his voice and the piano hit simultaneously:
“Heeeey, Jude…. don’t make it bad.”
Boy oh boy, the same as I did while sat watching him… I have chills just writing that.
’Til the day I die, I’ll never forget the sound of his voice and that grand piano echoing throughout the studio.
After he finished, I just looked at him, “Dude… why have you never told me you could play the piano?”
In true Jeremy fashion, he simply replied, “Well… I guess you never asked.”
He laughed and went on to explain that he was actually self-taught — the piano, guitar, bass, and harmonica.
He could play them all.
I remember sitting there feeling pleasantly shocked, stunned, and proud of my friend.
Sadly, a few years ago, Jeremy lost his long battle with addiction — breaking the hearts of all who loved him.
I’m the godfather to his son Jack who lives back in Chicago — and one day, when he’s old enough, I have a treasure chest of memories and music I look forward to sharing with him.
And today, all these years later, one happenstance sentence from Kate had transported me right back in the room with my favorite piano man.
As I was reliving the story with Kate, she suddenly interrupted me and apologized.
Throughout this particular call, Kate had been out walking around the park.
As I was finishing telling her the story about Jeremy, she’d been approached by one of her neighbors carrying a brand new puppy.
“Awww, look at him!” I could hear Kate melting… then quickly asking the owner what kind of dog it was.
“He’s a Beagle-mix,” she said.
Only I thought what I heard was, “Beatle-mix.”
Which both confused me and made me laugh, as we’d literally just been talking about The Beatles.
Then Kate asked what the puppy’s name was.
“We haven’t decided yet,” I heard the woman declare.
“Kate.. Kate!” I raised my voice trying to butt in.
“Tell her Jude! Tell her she should name the puppy Jude!”
“Wait, wait. My friend in Texas is yelling at me on the phone, he says you guys should name him Jude. We were just having this really beautiful conversation about The Beatles’ song, Jude.”
Without hesitation, I could hear the woman’s overly excited response:
“Oh my God… Jude. I actually love that!”
She then told Kate she’d have to take the name home and run it by the family first.
A few minutes later, after we’d wrapped up our call, I just sat here in my apartment, smiling with nostalgia.
Thinking about Kate and Norah.
Thinking about Jeremy and Jack.
And thinking about a Beagle named Jude… and how he might now be running amok around Madison, Wisconsin.
It’s a strange and beautiful thing sometimes — just how interconnected this world, and this life can be.
With Gusto,
Adrian
A rare and special request: In a time with so much negative noise in the world, I’m doing my damndest to tell stories that highlight and remind us of our shared humanity.
If something in this one moved you, a like, share, or comment goes a long way for me.
It not only let’s the algorithm know that what I’m doing is valued… it let’s me know that what I’m doing matters.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here and supporting these stories!
And for anyone who might need a little hit of The Beatles… recording live, one of the world’s most famous songs — click HERE.
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