Rose Ellen Wright-Alexander
7/08/60
- 10/07/05
The story of Rose and the
Octaman
and one very special guitar
I knew of Rose from having rented movies from her at Tower video. She was always decked out in rocker clothes with pins and things from bands who were outside the mainstream. She could have been the hippest person on earth, in a very sub-culture way. She always wore black with eye liner to match. You might have thought she stepped off a punk rock stage to moonlight as the lady who rented videos to clueless adolescents like me.
What struck me more shockingly than her appearance was her friendliness, and her unabashed willingness to joke with you, and only in a way that would make you feel good about yourself - in a way that made you feel warm, as though she was able to instantly take stock of who you were as a person and to turn all of her lightning fast observations into one sentence that would endear you, not just to her, but to yourself. She had the ability to look into the eyes of the most frightened and reclusive person and in a few words make them feel like they were not just okay, but that they were part of her very cool community. Her amazing talent cannot be described, it had to be experienced. This is how she ended up with such a tremendous number of friends who all felt the same way about her - that she was possibly the only person in the world who truly understood them. (pause for tears.)
I'm realizing there's no way to summarize this woman. I don't want to sound cheesy or gushing, I just want to tell the truth. If you never knew her, you missed out, especially if you didn't want to know her because of her style of dress. She was a joy to talk to. She could listen like no one else. And Rose was an even greater joy to listen to as she recounted stories from her life.
As a former professional stand-up comic myself, I know a thing or two about comedy. I've studied all the greats. Rose was the funniest person I ever knew. It's not an exaggeration to say that Rose was funnier than Lily Tomlin and Lucille Ball combined. If she had ever done a stand-up act she would have been sensational. She asked me more than once to teach her how. I wasn't sure I could teach anyone what I knew, and she was already so funny I couldn't help her there. Crafting an act isn't necessarily going to be easy for someone who is naturally funny off the stage. Both of us hesitated but shouldn't have. It will be an abiding regret that we didn't do it.
I officially met Rose on my first day of work at Tower Records on November 6, 1987 - my 22nd birthday. I had just completed a stint with one of the top bands in the Pacific Northwest, and that was on the heels of a very successful venture into stand up comedy, yet I was still very shy and unsure of myself. I was there hoping that Tower would serve as my own study library, as I set my goal on making original music.
The back room at Tower was sort of a half refuge from work, and the other half all business, as cashiers would cash out in the "count out room", the artist was busy creating wall exhibits, while others were having lunch or chatting on break just outside the bosses office so it was none too relaxed. That's where I stood at the end of my first day when Rose handed me a birthday card, signed by everybody at Tower. I didn't ever tell anyone it was my birthday, but that's Rose. She spied the date on my application and then cared about my feelings. It made all the difference under that initial pressure of being new on the job and shy. From that moment we were friends for life.
Eight months later it was Rose's turn for a birthday. I had met a photographer who knew Rose and her husband Ray, and one day I happened to be visiting his apartment on business when I ended up playing his acoustic guitar. He told me how it had once belonged to Rose and Ray, but they had sold it to him in order to pay their rent. I asked him how much he wanted for it. $250 was probably more than it was worth, but I handed him the cash, and then on Rose's birthday in the back room of Tower I was playing her guitar when she and Ray walked in after going to lunch. Being very shy still, I couldn't think how to present it, and I didn't say much. Ray stepped up first...
"That
looks a lot like your guitar, Rose. Oh my God, it is!"
"It's the same one." I said.
"Oh great! He's lending it out now?!" Ray exclaimed angrily. "Look, it's got dents in it right here..." Ray was disgusted!
"Well...not...not exactly." I said sheepishly. "Happy birthday, Rose, it's for you."
"What do you mean?" They asked incredulously. "You're giving it to her?"
"Yes, really" I assured them. It was no joke, no scam. Take it.
I can't exactly recall Rose's reaction, except that she was holding it close to her like a child, and was quietly rocking it back and forth and hugging it and staring at it a lot. (She couldn't actually play.)
"Oh great!" said Ray. "Now what the hell am I supposed to do to compete with that!?"
I hadn't considered the aspect of how it might make Ray feel!
And she cried, which I hadn't exactly anticipated either.
"It's the same one." I said.
"Oh great! He's lending it out now?!" Ray exclaimed angrily. "Look, it's got dents in it right here..." Ray was disgusted!
"Well...not...not exactly." I said sheepishly. "Happy birthday, Rose, it's for you."
"What do you mean?" They asked incredulously. "You're giving it to her?"
"Yes, really" I assured them. It was no joke, no scam. Take it.
I can't exactly recall Rose's reaction, except that she was holding it close to her like a child, and was quietly rocking it back and forth and hugging it and staring at it a lot. (She couldn't actually play.)
"Oh great!" said Ray. "Now what the hell am I supposed to do to compete with that!?"
I hadn't considered the aspect of how it might make Ray feel!
And she cried, which I hadn't exactly anticipated either.
The story of Rose and the Octaman and one special guitar...
To
me this was a perfectly natural expression of affection.
I'd give some people the world if I could, when they seem so
deserving. Rosie was a wonderfully kind person, but life hadn't
been
so kind to her. She suffered a lot of hard knocks. She was
often ill treated by others over her appearance, and
she was also quite ill with diabetes, requiring daily injections.
It seemed
so unfair. I wasn't trying to be
overly generous or to make a romantic gesture of any sort. I just wanted to do
something as nice for Rose as she
had done for me, and I had the money and the opportunity.
It turns out that this guitar was the first thing Rose had ever bought with her own money. She got it from Ted Brown music when she was just 12. She still had the "David Cassidy strap" that came with it. Selling it had been very disappointing for her. After that she bragged about me a lot, with the guitar on display her living room. I guess I was a little proud of the story at the time. Until one day...
...It was several years later. I had been over to see Rose one day. After our visit I got in my vehicle and didn't see my own acoustic guitar where it should have been. I panicked. After a frantic search I went back and told her that I think someone stole it while I was parked there on the street. I know there is a lot of crime in the area because my former wife and I spent two years living in the apartment directly below Rose and Ray. I went home distraught, as was she.
It was only a couple days later when I received a letter from Rose which is now one of my most valued possessions. In the letter she told me that she wanted me to have her guitar...
It turns out that this guitar was the first thing Rose had ever bought with her own money. She got it from Ted Brown music when she was just 12. She still had the "David Cassidy strap" that came with it. Selling it had been very disappointing for her. After that she bragged about me a lot, with the guitar on display her living room. I guess I was a little proud of the story at the time. Until one day...
...It was several years later. I had been over to see Rose one day. After our visit I got in my vehicle and didn't see my own acoustic guitar where it should have been. I panicked. After a frantic search I went back and told her that I think someone stole it while I was parked there on the street. I know there is a lot of crime in the area because my former wife and I spent two years living in the apartment directly below Rose and Ray. I went home distraught, as was she.
It was only a couple days later when I received a letter from Rose which is now one of my most valued possessions. In the letter she told me that she wanted me to have her guitar...
Letter from Rose
Tuesday,
August 24th 1999
Tuesday,
August 24th 1999
Dear Regan -
Happy
Birthday!
O
k so its
not your birthday for 74
days- but I didn't want to wait to give you your birthday gift.
This November 6th will mark 12 years since I met you. I remember
you standing in the count out room at Tower looking as though you
wanted to die. (As most of us look on our first day at
Tower) You were so sweet. I've loved you since that first
day. I hoped that that Farside birthday card we all signed helped
you get through that day.
I feel fortunate that we are still friends after all this time. You are one of the kindest, funniest people I know. When you returned my guitar to me on my birthday 11 years ago it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, and given Ray's reaction it's not such a stretch to believe that he had something to do with what happened to yours. I think his motives wouldn't have been mean so much as they were his way of bringing us closer. Because - I'm giving my guitar to you now. I know that you will love and care for it the way it deserves to be, and perhaps this is his way of insuring that you never forget either of us.
k so its
not your birthday for 74
days- but I didn't want to wait to give you your birthday gift.
This November 6th will mark 12 years since I met you. I remember
you standing in the count out room at Tower looking as though you
wanted to die. (As most of us look on our first day at
Tower) You were so sweet. I've loved you since that first
day. I hoped that that Farside birthday card we all signed helped
you get through that day.I feel fortunate that we are still friends after all this time. You are one of the kindest, funniest people I know. When you returned my guitar to me on my birthday 11 years ago it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, and given Ray's reaction it's not such a stretch to believe that he had something to do with what happened to yours. I think his motives wouldn't have been mean so much as they were his way of bringing us closer. Because - I'm giving my guitar to you now. I know that you will love and care for it the way it deserves to be, and perhaps this is his way of insuring that you never forget either of us.
I love you -
Rose
...Of course I told her
no, I
couldn't accept it. It
was her special guitar, and it certainly wasn't
her fault that my guitar was gone. She wouldn't hear of it, and talked
me into accepting it, along with a hug. She said she would
want me to have it
even if I hadn't lost my own guitar. I was as deeply moved as she
may have been when she first got it back on her birthday.
Later that week I walked into the home of one of my guitar students where I made weekly house calls at the time - and there I saw my own acoustic guitar sitting in the room right where I had left it. I was stunned. It hadn't been stolen after all. I never imagined I could have left it at someone's house. And now Rose had given me her own guitar to make up for a loss that never occurred? I berated myself. I felt so foolish. What an idiot!
I told Rosie the good news right away on the phone. I found my guitar, and she could have her own guitar back. However she would not accept it. She told me again how special she thought I was, and that she would want me to have her guitar even though mine was never really lost. She said she was sure that the music I would make with it would be more wonderful than anything she would ever do with it.
I'm sure she brought me to tears this time. I don't think anyone can possibly out give Rose Alexander. Any love you give to her comes back to you in larger and higher waves.
Later that week I walked into the home of one of my guitar students where I made weekly house calls at the time - and there I saw my own acoustic guitar sitting in the room right where I had left it. I was stunned. It hadn't been stolen after all. I never imagined I could have left it at someone's house. And now Rose had given me her own guitar to make up for a loss that never occurred? I berated myself. I felt so foolish. What an idiot!
I told Rosie the good news right away on the phone. I found my guitar, and she could have her own guitar back. However she would not accept it. She told me again how special she thought I was, and that she would want me to have her guitar even though mine was never really lost. She said she was sure that the music I would make with it would be more wonderful than anything she would ever do with it.
I'm sure she brought me to tears this time. I don't think anyone can possibly out give Rose Alexander. Any love you give to her comes back to you in larger and higher waves.
The "Rose" guitar
The story of Rose and the Octaman and one special guitar...
I
recorded "Without
the Sun"
with that guitar. I wrote it in the dark when the lines came to
me in the middle of a troubled night's sleep when I was overdrawn at
the bank. I'd scribble one line in the
dark, and then put the pad down and try to sleep, then another line
would come. So I'd scribble another line in the pitch blackness
somewhere lower on the page so
as not to overlap. By the time the first verse was finished I
realized that the title of the song was "Without the Sun" - so I made
sure as I continued to write the rest of it that I never
turned on the lights, just to give it the added meaning.
"I
haven't got two measly bucks, I'm broke...Life sucks, 'cause I
choke...There aren't two birds of a feather in my flock...I'm not a
geek, I'm not a jock..." I think she would have related to
some of the song. Although we were opposites in many ways, me
wearing bright colors, into the Bible and
and reggae music, while she wore black,
loved Halloween and
dark music, yet we were kindred spirits
in other ways, in our
humor and in our brokenness, even before both of our spouses deserted
us. I recorded the song in one
take, on one track, with virtually no overdubs. I'm sorry she
never got to hear it.
Another song on the album that I relate even more to my memory of Rose
is called "The
Dead Know Not Anything"
where I explain what I've learned from the Bible - that contrary
to popular
beliefs, the dead are really unconscious and don't know anything at
all. Rosie would often talk about
her friend Michael who had died as though he were able to come and
visit and see
what she was doing. I would often sit
down with her and explain that there will be a resurrection from death
for all mankind, but that until then they were all asleep in the
ground.
She
was very polite and listened, but it seemed not to register with
her. She went right on with her beliefs, which you can see from
the letter
she wrote to me where she indicts her ex-husband
for whatever mischief happened
with my presumed stolen guitar. The thing is, Ray had passed away
months before the letter even was written.
a happy couple - of clowns!
