During a class discussion she was facilitating, one of my classmates asked, when do you improvise Bob? I didn’t know how to answer, because when aren’t you improvising? You don’t know what’s going to happen next, just because you made plans doesn’t mean life cares to adhere to it, we’re born into an improvisation and die that way. I thought of asking her have you ever had food poisoning? Did you plan it? Did you ever have to fart and it was inconvenient? The idea that you control anything is untrue, like what isn’t an improvisation? The yoga teacher says follow your breath, but you don’t control the breathing, at best you only notice it. That’s the ticket, to notice what’s going on vs. believing you ever control it. Long ago when regularly playing with John Oswald, it was like we were another creature wailing away on a piano and a saxophone surprising each other, blending gently or screaming urgently like lovers enjoying the language of yells & whispers, both clear the conversation wasn’t about control but the ability to enjoy birthing it and noticing it being as it is. On my way to his first invitation to play those Saturday afternoon free improv jam sessions at the Cameron House he hosted in the 80s, I was expected to show him up. Brenda moved into the house I was renting on Major and John was her friend. They were ten years older than me and she pointed out we were both improvisers. He didn’t smile much and something about that and his skinny ponytail made me think I would show him how to play, never realizing until the first blast he played, this would be the other way around. Understanding improvisation is understanding that you aren’t driving the car though it is moving and your hands seem yo be on the steering column. It feels like my interpretation of the world offends my classmates, not because of any hostility but what they agree upon with no tacit agreement from me and this builds tension. Last year they wanted to fire a professor after three classes, because of what he looked like or so it seemed from my square in the Zoom. They seemed perplexed I was a hold out from signing their letter addressed to the big cheeses. Unlikely I can convince them that we don’t drive the car.