I've found the most fond memories in life have been the small ones that should have faded from my mind as quickly as they were made. Some of those surround three brothers, Butch, Mike, and Leo Syrylo and the polka band that never quite got off the ground, even when a somewhat accomplished trumpet player, me, entered the mix.
I had never heard a real polka in my life, but that changed quickly. The brothers were Polish Proud, and Mike would listen to the Polka show on the local radio station where I eventually got my start. I even filled in once but that story later.
Every few weeks the brothers would set up in the garage and start playing Polkas. I believe Mike was on the Accordion, Butch on clarinet, and Leo on drums. The personnel may be incorrect but the fact remains, that's where I heard my first Polka. And it broke every rule of music I had ever learned. Then as the warm sun took it's toll, and a few beers flowed, the music got worse. But it was a happy sound and the guy's were really into it and that's what music is supposed to be..Fun. I didn't like classical music because it wasn't fun. So the guys would play on into the evening and luckily, being in a rural area, there wasn't anybody nearby to annoy.
Mike asked me if I wanted to join in, and wanting to impress the man I'd hoped would be my father-in-law one day, I said I'd be honored and he gave me a pile of sheet music and my face went white. I had never seen anything like it before. I was good with jazz, could play classical if forced, I was great with ballads, but this...stuff...was nothing but runs of 16th and 32nd notes that ran up and down like the Rockies. I would have to hear how it was supposed to sound before I could play it so I said I'd take it to my music teacher and have him help me out. I took the sheet music in to school Monday and asked him to play it on the piano and he looked at the music and said he'd get back to me on that. Then he lost it. And I had to tell Mike that it was gone. I know he was hurt and disappointed, probably not as much as I because I really wanted to join in. It's funny how a mistake so simple and innocent bothers me still, 43 years later.
I was still able to listen. If the "band" wasn't playing, Mike would always have the radio playing Sunday afternoons and the Polka show had a large following. I got roped into doing the show one Sunday when it's host had another engagement and it was something I would never admit to on my resume'. I took Mike's daughter, Patty, to the studio to at least help me pull the music. She was smart pulling songs that had English titles, but it was the worst show in any format I ever did. It was bad. But Mike said it was pretty good. I was never asked to do the Polka show again.
Butch, Mike, and Leo were close and it was the first time I had seen a functional family. Mine was always feuding about something, usually petty. Usually about company business. But these 3 brothers seemed to never have an argument or even a cross word.
I didn't know Leo that well. I had been at his house and I remember a close family but that's about it. But Butch I really liked. I'm not sure if he was the youngest but he was at Mike's house most often and I remember a young toddler crawling across the floor, dressed in something frilly and pink, just learning how to walk and talk. She was the cutest thing ever. As with many relationships, Patty and I had talked about the never to be future and how, among other things, how we wanted our first child to be like her.
But time turned some pages and I left to wander the world but returned 12 years later to settle down. I had lived in The Far East, Germany and Italy and then came back to...Northeast Pennsylvania. And nothing changed. Mike was still gracious and outgoing and I visited him from time to time. Maybe I was looking through rose colored glasses, but to me, Mike didn't age.
I was reading the Scranton Times at work one day and saw an article about Butch and some serious health issues he was having, I forget what they were. I saw him one last time when I was visiting Mike. I was leaving as he was arriving. I didn't recognize him and I doubt he recognized me, or, for that matter, remembered. As I said, time had turned some pages.
Somehow I became the radio king of church bazaars. I did remote broadcasts from every Catholic Church in the Scranton/Wilkes Barre corridor and the entertainment was always one of the Polka bands. I worked with Stanky, Jolly Joe, the Kryger Brothers, and a host of others. They actually worked more than some of the better known rock and country bands in the area. But it always came back to memories of three brothers, slightly tipsy, making music for fun. And that's what was really important. Making music for fun.
I will always remember the three brothers, especially Mike who has been gone for a longer time than I care to remember.. The timeline gets blurred as you get older. I remember him every day. Somehow, for some reason unknown, he was my inspiration for going outside myself and becoming better than I ever thought I could be. I remember many times when I was having an "off" day on the air and I would get back on track by thinking Mike might be listening. I highly doubt he was..I don't think he was into Elton John or Billy Joel, but maybe, by accident, he'd hit the button for WARM instead of the Polkas.
I'm quickly coming to the end of the line in this life and getting ready to transition to the next. I believe Heaven is what we have here in this life, except in perfection. That means I might be greeted by a no longer bad Polka band, now playing to the angels, and a perfectly chilled bottle of beer. Sounds good to me.
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