This quote is a snippet from Paul Tillotson’s saying, “Surround yourself with people you love and have fun, the rest is gravy.”

Paul lived life at a very high pace as a pianist and musician. From my perspective, he created and collaborated in a way that I can only dream of. When he was playing the piano, he wore an all-knowing smile and could conduct the band with a wink or a nod. In an instant, he had the audience transfixed and part of the gig. During a period of remission from his illness, he introduced me to the World Day of Gratitude. Sitting on a bench with him outside at his home in Sun Valley, late on a chilly fall evening, watching the sunset on a hillside as deer were feeding, we hugged. In that moment, I learned the meaning of his words. The meat and potatoes of life are essential (being with people you love and having fun). The rest is the gravy, a metaphor for the extra things in life that bring joy.

These things are my gravy

• A sunset, or sunrise, (even better!)
• The moon and stars.
• Having people who believe in me, close or far.
• The feeling I get when I am in love.
• Nonverbal communication with a partner in the heat of battle.
• A great song, at a concert or not.
• Driving in my sports car or on a motorcycle.
  

  Paulie

• Performing a kindness from your heart.
• A vacation.
• A great meal.
• Getting recognition for a good job.
• Seeing my kids succeed. 
• Solving a problem. through collaborating with others.
• The company of strangers and making new friends.
• Teaching someone who wants to learn.
• Being on a river or sailing trip.
• Accomplishment and recognition.
• Being a leader.
• Creativity in so many forms.
• Working with your hands, getting lost in your work.
• Learning a new skill.
• Human touch, a kiss.
• Good health.
• The feeling after doing physical labor.

I was able to honor Paul’s legacy with a picture in the Sapphire Room at the Riverside hotel with our friend Gene Harris next to him. They say that as you age, you become more forgetful and constantly look back to remember the good times, and spend less time looking forward to what the future will bring. At 67, I suppose I could get stuck in that trap, but I resist. Ah, the good old days, I can almost hear those two playing together at the Idenha Hotel. As I count my blessings, I include you, my readers, in the gravy of my life.