Embodying Joy at 95 Every Damn Saturday Night
Bob Lombardi
His standing bass is scratched and used, resembling my own leather couch that’s been done in by dog claws more than an instrument that creates music that can jazz your heart rate up, make you fall in love, or soothe the soul.
His laugh is quick and joyous in between sets as he meanders toward the bar and his friends who sit there, musicians who come visit week after week.
This Saturday, he plays a lot of songs from movie. He knows all the lore, all the details and summaries of the romances and plots. And as he and Daniel Nicholson play up against the wall at one of our town’s fancier restaurants, it isn’t hard not to believe that you aren’t living in a movie set, falling in love, having a drink, ready to dance in the rain, wax poetic about Georgia or spin around in a moon glow.
I’m writing a story about this man, Bob Lombardi the spinner of music, thrumming of stings on the bass and in hearts, but I haven’t officially interviewed him yet.
I don’t have to interview him to know what this 95-year-old musician is about. He’s about joy. And stories. He’s about connections and music.
He reminds me of one of my grandfathers. He was a drummer who also toured with big bands and played until diabetes took his foot away. He died pretty soon after. He knew about joy, too, and music, and that way of being able to work yourself into a crowd and be present there.
And it’s beautiful.
That joy? That beauty? It doesn’t come out of perfect unscratched instruments or voices even. It whispers in the aperture. It sings in the vibrato of a slow moving smile.
That joy? That beauty? It comes out over and over again in Bob’s music. Bob has been playing at Havana since it opened, which was back in the late 1990s.
A couple came in to sit at one of the high tops near the bar and the woman said, “I saw him earlier and he wasn’t even playing yet and I just knew I had to come back.”
There’s a certain magic there that happens when you live your life by music and by story. That magic is something that draws people to you.
Bob’s joy charms you, invites you in. He plucks his way into your heart with his fast moving intellect the same way he plucks out melodies with his smooth voice and his mastery of the bass. He’s a jem.
What is joy?
In an interview for Psychology Today with Jamie D. Aten Ph.D., Dr. Pamela King describes joy this way.
“It’s a core part of being human. We have all experienced joy—both the overwhelming and animating experiences of joy that may surprise and overtake us and the calm, and the enduring joy, which sustains us. Generally, we want more of it. We’ve all yelped, shouted, or smiled in delight upon hearing good news about our health or the health of a loved one, finding a lost, precious object, or accomplishing something meaningful. These experiences bring life meaning and continue to motivate and direct us. That said, there have been no real clear theories or research that explain what prompts this kind of deep joy, nor have we had a framework for distinguishing joy from delight, fun, happiness, or thrill. Most people associate joy with goodness—good experiences, relationships, or objects. But what qualifies as the kind of “good” that produces life-altering, enduring joy?”
She found that there are three areas that influence joy.
“They are (1) growing in authenticity and living more into one’s strengths, (2) growing in depth of relationships and contributing to others, and (3) living more aligned with one’s ethical and spiritual ideals.”
They are Bob Lombardi.
You can follow Dr. Pam King on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, or ResearchGate.
Havana is here.
My story on Bob will eventually be here, on my hyper-local news site. By eventually I mean some day this week. Photos up there are by me.