Yoko's Japanese Restaurant
is several blocks from my house in Southeast Portland. It's a gem of a neighborhood spot for dinner, and it has become somewhat of a destination for fanciers of fresh, high quality sushi. My friend, Chuck Rainey was staying with me for a few days while we were recording locally, and on several occasions we enjoyed walking down the hill to eat there. We had just concluded our meal. I was putting on my jacket, and Chuck had gone to the rest room. A woman who'd been seated at a nearby table with a gentleman got up and approached me. "Pardon me," she said, "but is the man who was sitting with you a musician?" "He is," I replied, wondering where this might be going. "Is he Chuck Rainey; the bass player?" "Yes, he is," I told her. " My God, you have no idea what this means to my husband," and turning to the table where he was seated, she said "You're right, it's him." "We're just now returning from my husband's father's funeral in Oregon City. Tom is a bass player, and Chuck is his idol! He has followed his career closely and you have no idea what it would mean to him to be able to say hello." I asked her name and when Chuck returned, I introduced them. By this time her husband had joined us. I suggested we go outside, and after settling their check, we left as a group.
Every time I get to this part of the story I begin to tear-up, and it becomes difficult, for a moment at least, to continue. I stepped away from where they were standing on the sidewalk. The convergence of these events; her story about the funeral, the dinner, and the remarkable chance meeting that I was observing was a very emotional experience. Certainly, the conversation was about their shared instrument, but more than that, I saw this fellow go from profound sadness to a moment of pure elation.When they parted, Chuck and I walked back up the hill. Undoubtedly affected by the experience, I chose not to inquire what they talked about. We were both silent, reflecting on what had just happened at this unexpected place and moment. It remains a vivid memory for me
