Dear Carter
The regret archives begin their insidious, subconscious torture. But this is not about me. This is about a kind and good man who loved me and my work. He championed my writing, my process, my career. He taught me so much of what I know in this business. Carter was my manager for nearly nine years. I met him when I moved to San Francisco in my early twenties, a prolific songwriter and barista at a local cafe, The Tassajara Bakery. I was a neophyte to the business and to Carter’s particular brand of sarcasm. He saw my soul immediately. We had a connection and were off. He bought me my first gig outfit - a vintage three piece man’s suit from a second hand shop. (You must understand I was living within the poverty level, had three roommates and dedicated any spare hour to music.) He helped me compile my first demo tape, rounded up a photo shoot, shopped me to some of his label friends and -viola!- we found ourselves a deal with a boutique label who fiercely believed in letting me be me; Imago. Imago was a left-of-center, artistic label led by Terry Ellis (formerly the head of Chrysalis, nurturer of Blondie, Pat Benatar). Their roster included Aimee Mann, Basehead, Henry Rollins. This was the early nineties, Nirvana was exploding with “Nevermind”, Jeff Buckley was playing the same beloved waterhole as me, Cafe Sine; the music scene was transcendental, passionate.
Carter flew with me on my first business-class flight on TWA at Imago’s bequest to NYC. I found my destiny there - my future home in the city I love, my career’s zenith. Carter continued the dialogue with me, through the labels, through the ever-constant process of songwriting, the daily dramas, the sarcasm, the disappointments; the amazing ride. He was an English major, a poet, a champion of the Paula who I constantly doubted. He couldn’t wait for my next song. There will never be another man who gets tears in his eyes and knows my hits first thing off the press. He informed the world of me and paved my path. I am eternally grateful for the lessons and the friendship. The fatherliness, too. (He was the only one courageous enough to tell me I was going after the wrong man. I then left Carter.)
Carter, I miss you. Much more than I could ever have expected. I am left with longings and questions. I wanted to continue the dialogue. We weren’t done. I am standing here with a huge hole in my heart. Wherever you are, I am still loving you, apologetic for my temper in my 20’s, my losing of the plot. I am missing you on my path that still stretches before me. You were my partner on that path, Mr. Proper Nouns and Don’t-Bore-Us, Get-to-the-Chorus. You were a gentleman. I couldn’t see just how important you were and are to me and now it’s too late. Wherever you are, my dear, I am here loving you still. Always.
