Many of you already know the story of how Dan and I met, but to honor this day, if you will indulge me,
I would like to tell you about our first date, in Santa Fe on All Soul's night, November 2nd, 1996.
This is an excerpt from a book I'm working on called,"All The Time In The World".
~ Jean Fogelberg
Dan was the consumate story teller.
His stories were usually about his own life; some he put to music, and some he regaled friends with at his dinner table as they enjoyed an amazing meal he'd cooked himself. We loved telling the story of how we met, each of us jumping in to fill in a detail or add some back story.
In his last years, realizing that he would most likely not survive the advanced cancer in his body, Dan thought about what stories he had yet to tell. He recorded his last album, "Love In Time", a compilation of old songs, new songs, and two songs by other artists. When the tape was in the can and safely put away, Dan turned his attention to telling his life story.
After dinner, he'd light a fire in his study fireplace and pour two glasses of wine. Then we'd sit together on his leather couch and I'd turn on the small MiniDisc tape recorder and Dan would reminisce. Now and then I'd say, "Remember that story you told me about....", and he'd laugh, take a sip, and off he'd go.
Eventually I will find the right person to take Dan’s story from tape to paper; he was a big fan of biographies so I know whose writing he admired. Until then, the Tribute and Carnegie Hall CDs are recorded, I (we) just have to be patient while the music business wheels turn. The guitar tabs and piano/vocals sheet music for The First Christmas Morning will be ready very soon. Once these projects are finished I can start on the book of Dan’s art and photography, and a good friend of Dan’s is talking documentary.
I’m not good at waiting. When I have a plan, I want to run with it. These years of waiting for the Tribute CD to be done have been agony for me, and I know you’ve felt it too. Dan was very good at waiting and letting things run their course. Sometimes he’d put his hand on my arm and say,