Friday, May 18, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Bruce's Father's 90th Birthday Party
Some photos from Lester Engelhardt's 90th Birthday Party in Laguna Hills, CA, including Bruce, Bette, Terry, Herb, and other family and friends (thanks to Herb for photos)
Friday, May 11, 2012
Some Short Early Poems by Bruce
a man who knows
around the railed wood glass box
he walks
and stops
at the window
to be framed.
we meet
we meet
not where we are
but in the distortion of light bent
by old glass
stars
stars are only holes in the sky
where earth rubbed heaven raw
eyes
when I close my eyes
I like to think
my face is safe
what does it mean
what does it mean
when you walk
from the window
to an all-walled room
look at the clock
to tell you
when
the sun sets?
19
19 nails in holes of sun
pin it to the panoramic backdrop
every year I pound
another hole to hold it there
it fills
with holes
the nails
are lost
in space.
sky and sea
sky is vermilion
spotted with patchwork watermelons
cracking like clouds
spilling crystal seeds
to feed earth.
sea is yellow
and sings like bees
in honey tones.
you
you have the lust for beauty
that steals flowers
from graves
you can take back
your second-hand time
but I'll rob the hour
you held my hand.
orange
on a sunny day
peel it
watch its pores pop
and spray fragrantly
separate section by section
peel again
the thinner skin
see how complete
each piece is
and the pieces in the piece
are shiny and full
its blood breaks
five thousand times
on your tongue
taste
the orange
Monday, May 7, 2012
A Poem for Bruce
> From: wave@cruzio.com
>
> RIP Bruce: Our hearts and tears are with you.....
>
>
> the blues
>
> much of what is said here
> must be said twice,
> a reminder that no one
> takes an immediate interest in the pain of others.
>
> nobody will listen, it would seem,
> if you simply admit
> your baby left you early this morning
> she didn't even stop to say good-bye.
>
> But if you sing it again
> with the help of the band
> which will now lift you to a higher,
> more ardent and beseeching key,
>
> people will not only listen;
> they will shift to the sympathetic
> edges of their chairs,
> moved to such acute anticipation
>
> by that chord and the delay that follows,
> they will not be able to sleep
> unless you release with one finger
> a scream from the throat of your guitar
>
> and turn your head back to the microphone
> to let them know
> you' re a hard-hearted man
> but that woman's sure going to make you cry.
>
>
> Billy Collins
>
>
> RIP Bruce: Our hearts and tears are with you.....
>
>
> the blues
>
> much of what is said here
> must be said twice,
> a reminder that no one
> takes an immediate interest in the pain of others.
>
> nobody will listen, it would seem,
> if you simply admit
> your baby left you early this morning
> she didn't even stop to say good-bye.
>
> But if you sing it again
> with the help of the band
> which will now lift you to a higher,
> more ardent and beseeching key,
>
> people will not only listen;
> they will shift to the sympathetic
> edges of their chairs,
> moved to such acute anticipation
>
> by that chord and the delay that follows,
> they will not be able to sleep
> unless you release with one finger
> a scream from the throat of your guitar
>
> and turn your head back to the microphone
> to let them know
> you' re a hard-hearted man
> but that woman's sure going to make you cry.
>
>
> Billy Collins
>
Bruce's Obituary
Bruce Engelhardt
Resident of Santa Cruz
Santa Cruz lost one of its mainstay musicians and activists
with the passing on May 2, 2012, of Bruce Michael
Engelhardt, soon after being diagnosed with lung cancer.
“Boogie” Bruce was born on November 20, 1944, to
Frances and Lester Engelhardt in Hollywood California. He
grew up in Sherman Oaks in the San Fernando Valley, Los
Angeles County. He graduated from Ulysses S. Grant High
School in Van Nuys and attended Valley Community College.
At San Francisco State College and Long Beach State College
(now Cal State University at Long Beach), Bruce received a
liberal arts education, graduating with a B. A. in English and
Journalism. During this time he developed strong interests in
calligraphy, drawing, and writing and entered into friend-
ships he kept throughout his life. Soon after, he moved to
the Santa Cruz, CA area and lived in Brookdale and in town
for almost 40 years.
Bruce came from a musical family. His Uncle Paul
Engelhardt was a trumpet player and violinist with the Big
Bands of the 30's and 40's. Bruce's first music lessons were
on the drums. He taught himself the piano and guitar in high
school. By college he was singing and playing professionally
in blues bands, becoming a master of barrelhouse piano and
the bottleneck slide guitar. Over the years, he performed
blues, zydeco, and old-timey “hokum” and other historic
American styles on piano, guitar, bass, and percussion, ac-
companying Albert Collins, Clifton Chenier, Elvin Bishop, Jill
Crosten, “Little” Joe Blue, Queen Ida, Steve Mann, and local
favorite bluesman Robert Lowery. “Boog” performed in ev-
ery imaginable venue big and small, from the New Orleans
Jazz and Heritage festival, the Ozark Mountain Folk Festival,
the Redwood Mountain Faire and the Santa Cruz Country
Fair to Club Zayante, Don Quixote's and Lulu's. The many
local bands Bruce performed in include the Yazoo Blues Re-
view, the Club Zayante Jug Stompers, the Dirty Butter Band,
The Tarantulas Jug Band and his regular Tuesday night
group, “DNR”. Due to his decades of dedication and his pas-
sion for the music, he played with an authenticity that few
could match.
Besides performing, Bruce had a vast knowledge of many
kinds of music, including gospel, cajun, and world music. He
knew hundreds of songs and had an amazing memory for
recordings and music history. He had many other interests
and joys: his recipe for Santa Cruz Jambolaya was published
in a cookbook; he loved to hike with his friend Harry Evans
at Pogonip, Gray Whale Ranch and Henry Cowell State Park,
and camp with his friends David and Leslie Howell; he was
a community activist, advocating for his neighborhood asso-
ciation, for street musicians, and many other progressive
causes; and he was a long-time NAACP and ACLU member.
Bruce continued to write and make his calligraphy through-
out his life. He had a special soft spot for New Orleans, his
musical and culinary heaven on earth.
His gold was his large circle of friends, which he called his
extended family.
He leaves a grieving family, his sister and brother-in-law,
Bette and Terry Ogier-Smith of Santa Cruz; his first cousins,
Herb Engelhardt and Mitchell Kahn of Los Angeles County;
cousin Carole Katsouleas of Santa Barbara County; and his
god-daughter, Tracy Evans of Santa Cruz County.
Grateful thanks are extended to Dominican Hospital, Drift-
wood Health Care Center, and the Hospice of Santa Cruz for
their excellent care of Bruce during his illness.
Bruce's friends have put up a blog for condolences, com-
ments, and reminisces at http://bruceengelhardt@blogspot
.com. Burial will be private.
Bruce was a tall, elegant, thoughtful and sociable man who
was unfailingly kind and supportive. He has crossed over,
but he'll live on wherever music is rockin' the house.
'
'
'
Resident of Santa Cruz
Santa Cruz lost one of its mainstay musicians and activists
with the passing on May 2, 2012, of Bruce Michael
Engelhardt, soon after being diagnosed with lung cancer.
“Boogie” Bruce was born on November 20, 1944, to
Frances and Lester Engelhardt in Hollywood California. He
grew up in Sherman Oaks in the San Fernando Valley, Los
Angeles County. He graduated from Ulysses S. Grant High
School in Van Nuys and attended Valley Community College.
At San Francisco State College and Long Beach State College
(now Cal State University at Long Beach), Bruce received a
liberal arts education, graduating with a B. A. in English and
Journalism. During this time he developed strong interests in
calligraphy, drawing, and writing and entered into friend-
ships he kept throughout his life. Soon after, he moved to
the Santa Cruz, CA area and lived in Brookdale and in town
for almost 40 years.
Bruce came from a musical family. His Uncle Paul
Engelhardt was a trumpet player and violinist with the Big
Bands of the 30's and 40's. Bruce's first music lessons were
on the drums. He taught himself the piano and guitar in high
school. By college he was singing and playing professionally
in blues bands, becoming a master of barrelhouse piano and
the bottleneck slide guitar. Over the years, he performed
blues, zydeco, and old-timey “hokum” and other historic
American styles on piano, guitar, bass, and percussion, ac-
companying Albert Collins, Clifton Chenier, Elvin Bishop, Jill
Crosten, “Little” Joe Blue, Queen Ida, Steve Mann, and local
favorite bluesman Robert Lowery. “Boog” performed in ev-
ery imaginable venue big and small, from the New Orleans
Jazz and Heritage festival, the Ozark Mountain Folk Festival,
the Redwood Mountain Faire and the Santa Cruz Country
Fair to Club Zayante, Don Quixote's and Lulu's. The many
local bands Bruce performed in include the Yazoo Blues Re-
view, the Club Zayante Jug Stompers, the Dirty Butter Band,
The Tarantulas Jug Band and his regular Tuesday night
group, “DNR”. Due to his decades of dedication and his pas-
sion for the music, he played with an authenticity that few
could match.
Besides performing, Bruce had a vast knowledge of many
kinds of music, including gospel, cajun, and world music. He
knew hundreds of songs and had an amazing memory for
recordings and music history. He had many other interests
and joys: his recipe for Santa Cruz Jambolaya was published
in a cookbook; he loved to hike with his friend Harry Evans
at Pogonip, Gray Whale Ranch and Henry Cowell State Park,
and camp with his friends David and Leslie Howell; he was
a community activist, advocating for his neighborhood asso-
ciation, for street musicians, and many other progressive
causes; and he was a long-time NAACP and ACLU member.
Bruce continued to write and make his calligraphy through-
out his life. He had a special soft spot for New Orleans, his
musical and culinary heaven on earth.
His gold was his large circle of friends, which he called his
extended family.
He leaves a grieving family, his sister and brother-in-law,
Bette and Terry Ogier-Smith of Santa Cruz; his first cousins,
Herb Engelhardt and Mitchell Kahn of Los Angeles County;
cousin Carole Katsouleas of Santa Barbara County; and his
god-daughter, Tracy Evans of Santa Cruz County.
Grateful thanks are extended to Dominican Hospital, Drift-
wood Health Care Center, and the Hospice of Santa Cruz for
their excellent care of Bruce during his illness.
Bruce's friends have put up a blog for condolences, com-
ments, and reminisces at http://bruceengelhardt@blogspot
.com. Burial will be private.
Bruce was a tall, elegant, thoughtful and sociable man who
was unfailingly kind and supportive. He has crossed over,
but he'll live on wherever music is rockin' the house.
'
'
'
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Poem for Bruce from late April
CONDOR
In my genetic line, we are
stricken like bells
or an unseen sword comes to top our branches
the feeling is of conflagration; the hot heart
stops still in horror; in vain, firemen scale the walls
but your family dies cold, from a squeeze-vine
a congealing, a clotting and withholding, a coagulation
like spring mud turned hard under horse's hooves
and I suppose there are families that die like air
much more is known of the deaths by water.
Going through the process with you,
like your tray-table, a fixture at your side,
I'm only watching the sun come out
after last night's thunder
drying your mud into dusty trails
where big birds bask.
You look out, tan and dusty
where earth meets sky
as each operation brings desiccating dawns
and I am yours
your solidity
for your ever
for each day's flight
among the red rocks, the arroyos
of condor-country. what a wing-spread
you display, as you unfurl
for takeoff from the cliff-edge
across the radiant canyon.
'
'
'
stricken like bells
or an unseen sword comes to top our branches
the feeling is of conflagration; the hot heart
stops still in horror; in vain, firemen scale the walls
but your family dies cold, from a squeeze-vine
a congealing, a clotting and withholding, a coagulation
like spring mud turned hard under horse's hooves
and I suppose there are families that die like air
much more is known of the deaths by water.
Going through the process with you,
like your tray-table, a fixture at your side,
I'm only watching the sun come out
after last night's thunder
drying your mud into dusty trails
where big birds bask.
You look out, tan and dusty
where earth meets sky
as each operation brings desiccating dawns
and I am yours
your solidity
for your ever
for each day's flight
among the red rocks, the arroyos
of condor-country. what a wing-spread
you display, as you unfurl
for takeoff from the cliff-edge
across the radiant canyon.
'
'
'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)