R.I.P. Gerry Glombecki

Back in 1966 when I was attending college in the small Missouri town of Canton on the banks of the Mississippi River there was a 19 year old blond kid from Chicago, Gerry Glombecki, who lived in my dorm and had what was probably the first skateboard the town had ever seen.

Gerry was a carefree sort who always sported a great smile. I knew him for a year before I left Canton and, of course lost contact with him. Withing the last year, through Facebook, we reestablished contact of sorts. Gerry had gone on from that small river town to become an accomplished musician and a fixture in the Tuscon, Arizona, music community. He was inducted into the Arizona Blues Hall of Fame and was a founder of the Tucson Folk Festival.

This video shows Gerry playing slide guitar, and one of his sidelines was the making and distribution of authentic guitar slides: http://gerryglombecki.com/Sliders.html

Advertisements

3 Comments

Filed under Music

3 responses to “R.I.P. Gerry Glombecki

  1. It’s always such a shame to see someone gone so young. The music you linked to is great.

    I saw on the slide page that Leo Kottke used his slides. You can’t do better than that – at least in my opinion.

    What does it say about us, Linda, when we mourn a 63 year old as “someone gone so young?”

    • Grinning, here. I thought about that. 🙂

      BTW…that music clip IS Gerry, but I have no idea when it was done. Quite some time ago I suspect.

  2. Lee Melchior

    Goodbye Ger

    I didn’t know the musician,
    I knew the boy.
    Smooth skin, face hair could wait
    Blond-headed tall thing
    Jumping ahead.

    He surfed the lake and took us by surprise with his words
    Because after all he was a pole vaulter, not a poet.

    I told him not to ride his bike on the highway with no socks in the winter
    But, he did it anyway
    To get to new poems by James Dickey.

    Then, there was the air guitar
    Head back, hair rolling
    He said, The Who were, “Tits”
    Then, we laughed – nobody would get that,
    But that never mattered.

    And, when you looked him straight in the eye
    You could see the light.

    Amen, Lee.