Josh White Jr was a friend of mine. I don't share that to say I'm special. But three days into this new year and I'm still thinking of him cuz he didn't make it over into 2025. But along with several other friends who have recently passed over, I miss him. Josh or as many of his closer connections knew him, Donnie, had a lot of friends. Millions of them. He had friends all over the whole damn world. Probably had some in space too. He had friends because he was a friend. From his family, to close acquaintances, travelling buddies, fellow performers, concert sponsors, hospitality providers, fans, strangers, kids of all ages, people rich and poor... Josh touched hearts. Mention his name and you get a beautiful remembrance of some special day, night, city or an event where his talent, personality or an act of kindness lit up some life or room or helped some cause to rise in awareness. He was about life... about music... about lifting people up. Josh was about civil rights and fairness. He was about setting the tone and working for justice for all. He was about hitting the mark and leaving an impact. Josh was a star. For over 80 freaking years. Who among us can say THAT? But being famous didn't make him inaccessible or full of ego-driven pride. Neither did having a wildly iconic dad (with whom he performed for 17 years) or performing on TV, in film or on Broadway with his fellow famous contemporaries. And for Heaven’s sake, Eleanor Roosevelt was his freakin' Godmother! I'm thinking that probably helped him to remember that, like her, his prime mission in life was making the world more just. He did that through music, story and by being a light in a hundred different ways. I'm not saying he didn't have his moments. He WAS human. Donnie had his struggles. But, DAMN, you've read the bio. Can you imagine carting that weight of expectation around for 80 plus? And still having to deal with life's personal explosions? Though I wasn't aware of his early fame, I heard about him enough for it to influence my life and my growing career. I first saw him up close at a Sonny Ochs concert in my hometown of Middleburgh, NY. It was there that I found out it WASN'T true that he purposely "nicked" a string before shows to provide a chance to demonstrate his string changing, storytelling skills as the stories said. But that concert showed that he was the real deal. Here was a Black man showing the way to understanding through music and story. Black men in folk music! Yeah, there's a club. It's not an easy membership, but it definitely has its benefits and its challenges. Matt and Marshall Jones, Hollis Watkins Muhammed, Chuck Neblett, Cordell Reagon, Richie Havens, Guy Davis, Josh and Rev. Robert Jones (and some amazing Black Sisters too) all initiated me, over a span of time, through a process that we can call "walkin the walk!" There's no exact moment of entry or ritual. But you know when it happens. One day, more than 20 years ago, my phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello?" (this was back in the day when you had to PICK IT UP!!). The voice on the other end said, sharply, "Colored Man!" Knowing it was Josh, I was startled, cuz he'd never addressed me that way before. I paused, then, in a second, my reply choice was clear. I laughed and said, "Black Man!" He laughed and said, "What's shakin'?" We never found the need to discuss what that greeting meant. But it's how every conversation or physical reunion between us began, from that day until last Saturday when I called him to say, "I'm back in town. Let's get together." Over the last few years, it's been my joy to meet for breakfast at a little place in the Detroit area about once a month with Josh, Matt Watroba and Robert Jones. Four friends; musicians and soldiers in the civil rights/ heart-healing army, coming together off the road and off the record. We get a table off to the side of the main room, so our raucous laughter and spirited 3-hour conversation/ political/ spiritual "restore the soul sessions" are not completely disruptive to the bizness and conversations of the locals and the wait-staff. We share, we listen and we commiserate with delight. We are brothers. We are friends. We tip well. There will be no breakfast date with Josh this week, but the breakfast gang will meet. And we will remember and mourn and laugh. Josh White Jr. left the world better than he found it. And considering the temp of the times, that's saying something. Bless you, Josh. You sang it well.