Since this blog already exists, I am repurposing it as a kind of journal.
So many emotions and so many changes, which I'm sure I'll forget if I don't write them down.
It's so touching, yet so sad, to see the recognition Geoffrey is getting when it's all "too late." The Strad article was such a surprise, so soon after his death. I have no idea who could have notified them, as only close personal friends even knew at that point. It wasn't even on the funeral home website, since they were having technical difficulties.
I also have no idea who updated his Wikipedia page. That too, was practically immediate. Are there bots that can do that?
Giora Schmidt's tribute on the Slipped Disc website was amazing. And sad, because Geoffrey thought Giora had left him behind and didn't appreciate him.
The Inquirer obituary was remarkable in so many ways. I simply sent links to the Strad and Slipped Disc announcements, and Inquirer obituary writer Gary Miles ran with it, with a true journalist's commitment and thoroughness. He asked me for an interview, but it proved almost superfluous. By the time he called me, he already knew things about Geoffrey that I didn't know/had forgotten. He had really done his research, in both contemporary online sources and journalism archives. Then he put that all together with my remarks and the materials I sent him: emailed testimonials and the eulogies given by Phil and Annika.
The best thing that obituary is that it gave me a new perspective on Geoffrey's life. Living the story, I saw it as a tragedy. A blazing talent who never found room at the top. A brilliant artist who didn't know how to "people" and "was his own worse enemy" (per his sister Janet, Tricia Walmsley, and others). But the story in the obituary isn't a tragedy. It's a celebration of all the beauty and musical insight he brought to the world.
